The Family

Phillip was standing over Billy now and, smiling chillingly, he said, 'I would never joke about something this serious.'

'But why, Phillip, why are you doing this?' It was a serious question, and Billy was genuinely interested in the answer.

'Because you and Piper took me for a cunt. But mainly, Billy, if I'm really honest about it, because I can.''

Chapter One Hundred and Eight

'Here he comes, the hero of the hour!'

Timmy walked into the nightclub with a sheepish grin on his face. He was aware that what had happened was the main topic of conversation for everyone around him.

'Come here, son! Is this a chip off the old block or what, eh?'

As Phillip put his huge arms around him, Timmy realised they were pretty much of a size now. Another year or two and he would probably outweigh his father. He saw his brother beaming at everyone; full of pride and pleasure at his little brother's actions. Though 'little brother' wasn't the case any more, he was at least two inches taller than Philly now, and he was much broader. Since the debacle in the shop Timmy had become aware of himself in a way he had never been before. He was what would be termed by the men in this club as a lump. A big, strong lad, he was being treated with respect now. Since taking out the Whites he was like a local hero. People came into his granddad's shop and almost bowed to him if he acknowledged their presence. It was all heady stuff and, he had to admit, he was relishing it. Even the Filth had not bothered – just asked him if he was all right, and put it down as an attempted robbery gone wrong.

His actions had actually surprised him. Seeing his granddad being threatened like that had flicked a switch in his head. His granddad was like his mum, he didn't really know how to cope in the world he had found himself in. Timmy understood that on a very basic level, because he had thought he was the same. But he wasn't, he was like his name, he was a Murphy through and through. Accepting it felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He knew who he was, and what he was now.

Phillip Murphy watched his two sons with pure pride and the conviction that he had done a marvellous job with them. Poor Christine might be away, but she was on the mend, and his boys were showing the world they were worthy successors to their father. He was so proud he could burst, and taking out that ponce Bantry was just the icing on the cake. Laughing and joking with everyone, he caught sight of Piper surreptitiously watching the door for his little mate Bantry to arrive. He was tempted to tell him that he wasn't coming, that he was burning away at this very moment, his ash soon to be spread on the fields as potash. But he didn't – there was plenty of time for chatting when the time was right. Let them start worrying and wondering, he wasn't going to tell anyone anything until he was good and ready.

Declan had arrived back from his break in Marbella earlier in the day; he was lightly tanned and impressed with what he had found out about the euro situation. A business that would now be wholly theirs, given the untimely demise of their business partners. All in all he was a happy man; once he had tied up a few loose ends, he would be back to his usual self.

Life was looking up, and he decided to make the most of it.

Chapter One Hundred and Nine

Breda was happy enough today and, as she sat in her mother's house drinking tea and eating a big slice of home-made cake, she broached the subject of Christine again.

'Do you think she's getting better really, Mum?'

Veronica was doing the washing-up with her back to her daughter. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she kept her voice calm as she said, 'I think so, yeah. Sure, she's drink and drug free for the first time in years, so she has to be getting better, child.'

Breda could hear the tinge of irritation in her mother's voice and knew she saw the question as some kind of criticism of Phillip. This was nothing new; Veronica always felt her daughter- in-law's failings were seen unfairly as her son's fault.

'I think she looks terrible.'

'Well, you're entitled to your opinion, Breda, as we all are.'

The sarcasm wasn't lost on her daughter and Breda snapped, 'Oh, come on, Mum! Even you can't deny the girl looks fucking awful. She's terrified, and we both know what of, don't we?'

Turning from the sink, Veronica faced her daughter; she had to stop herself from taking her hand back and boxing the bitch's ears like she had when she was a child.

'What are you trying to insinuate, Breda? Why don't we cut to the fecking chase, eh? Say what you've got to say and then get yourself home. But I warn you now, girl, you start a fight in this house tonight and I'll fecking mangle you where you sit.'

Breda wasn't surprised at her mother's reaction; it was always the same, the merest whisper of criticism directed towards Phillip was seen as a personal affront.

'Why do you bite like this, Mum? We're talking about Christine here, and I'm sorry, but a five-year-old child can see there's something bothering her…'

'Oh, Breda, piss off, would you? As I told Declan, she's just lost a child, it can affect a woman like that. I would have thought you, as a woman, would have understood! But then I should have known you wouldn't get it – you're more like a man these days with your suits and your fecking briefcase. Talking of men, haven't you got a young black man to service somewhere? Get you off my back for a few hours?'

Breda stood up and felt the urge to shake this woman until her teeth rattled. The realisation that Declan had obviously been there before her was a shock as well. But then, he had been present when it happened, so he probably had a tale to tell. This explained why he'd gone off to Marbella so quickly; he was distancing himself from his brother and from whatever had happened.

'Why do you always assume I am going to blame Phillip for his wife's nerves or whatever you call them these days? Why do you always snap the second she's mentioned?'

Veronica didn't bother to answer. She was not about to get into a discussion about her son, not with Declan and certainly not with this daughter of hers, whose own life wouldn't bear too much scrutiny. Instead she said angrily, 'Do you know what makes me laugh with you lot? Without Phillip you'd all be nothing, scratching a living as best you could. You're ungrateful and you're disloyal, and I won't have it. When you produced young Porrick years ago, and was whoring yourself from one end of this estate to the other, I wouldn't let anyone say a word against you, so you remember that next time you want to start this up again. I stood by you when you nearly killed my Jamsie. I've stood by you all, you stupid, stupid girl.'

Breda didn't reply. She felt the familiar guilt grip her like a vice – her mother was good at that, making you feel guilty and upset.

Flapping her hand at her daughter, Veronica said dismissively, 'Go, Breda, you've outstayed your welcome as usual. Just go home.'

Chapter One Hundred and Ten

Phillip sat in his house; the boys had just gone up, and he was happy, at least as happy as he could be anyway. Old Sammy was clearly still awake because the lights were on in his cottage and that made Phillip smile. The dirty old fucker watched the late- night porn channels – he should know, they billed him for it. Good luck to