Chapter Fifty-Eight
'Calm down, Phil, getting aggravated ain't going to help us out now, is it?'
'All I've done for that ponce, and he shames me in me own house.'
'Well, I think that tomorrow in the cold light of day he will be on the blower, all contrite. We'll get the arcades, and at a song. I mean, let's face it, Phil, he's going to have to really fucking grovel after tonight's little fiasco.'
The thought cheered Phillip, and he finally broke into a smile. 'Yeah, you're right. He'll be at panic stations now, won't he, wondering how best to talk himself out of the trouble. I really thought he was going to go for it, though. And what was all that about other people thinking I had too much? I want to know exactly who
they
are.'
Declan had wondered how long it would be before the real nub of his brother's ire came out. Ever since that idiot Ricky had said those words he had known that Phillip would not let it lie until he had all the names, addresses and phone numbers of the people he would now see as his mortal enemies. He would then feel honour bound to let them know what he thought about them, and that could never be good for business. Declan knew that it was normal to be cunted when you were in the position they were, it was a natural reaction on the part of the people they were pushing aside. It always caused a bit of jealousy and resentment, it was better people let off steam with words than actions. After all, as their old mum had always said, sticks and stones.
Phillip, however, took what people said about him a bit too seriously, his whole life was about how he was perceived, about what people thought of him, and what he had achieved. Success meant a lot to Phillip, not just the money side of it, but also the lifestyle that came with it. He had always cared far too much about other people's opinions. Even poor Christine had become a casualty of Phillip's striving for perfection; no one could live up to his expectations, least of all a girl who was terrified of her husband, and had to pop pills just to get out of bed in the morning.
As much as Declan loved his brother, and he
did
love him, it was this part of his make-up that Declan always felt made him weak. A lesser man wouldn't care what people said about them, it would be enough to know they were feared
and
revered. Not Phillip though, he had to be feared, respected, and
liked
, and with the best will in the world Phillip was a lot of things, but likeable wasn't one of them.
Breda came in and broke the tension. She was red-faced from the biting wind, but Declan was pleased to see she looked up for anything, even at this late hour. He wondered which little Rasta's sex life had been interrupted by his summons.
Phillip nodded at her, and she sat down at the table quickly.
'Tomorrow, Breda, I want you to start asking around the front about people's opinion of us, especially me. It's come to my attention that we're being cunted up hill and down dale. I want to know who the culprits are, and then I want them dealt with. If we start letting people get away with insubordination we lay ourselves wide open to being mugged off. I want this nipped in the bud.'
Breda nodded sagely, wondering what the fuck Phillip was on about. She wasn't going to ask him though - Declan would fill her in on the score at a more appropriate time. She could see
Phillip was on one, and she knew the best thing to do was keep quiet, keep her head down, and agree with whatever he said to her.
Declan passed her a cup of coffee and she sipped the hot liquid gratefully. 'I'll get on it first thing, and see what I can find out.'
Phillip went on, 'Yeah, it pays to keep people on their toes. By the way, we're taking everything Ricky's got, and we're taking it for a third of its value. You need to find out exactly what that is. He'll accept, don't worry about that. But I want you to deal with him, OK?'
She nodded once more. Seems the big party night all ended in tears. Still, she would find out everything soon enough. 'I have the figures on me desk, I'll let you know first thing.'
'You're a good girl, Breda. How's that treacherous bastard Jamsie doing?'
She smiled sadly. 'All right. Mum's thrilled anyway. But, in fairness, Phil, he don't even drink a shandy these days, let alone snort anything. I think he's a changed man.'
'He would fucking need to be, wouldn't he?'
She didn't answer him, she knew he was looking for a reason to take his ire out on someone and Jamsie was not going to be his whipping boy tonight. Not if she could help it anyway. 'By the way, I got the firearms, they get delivered next Thursday. I've taken the liberty of renting some garages in Chigwell. They are down a little lane, and it's not somewhere the Old Bill frequent. They're owned by a retired colonel who's fallen on hard times. Basically he owes Benny the Bookie, who owes me a favour. I'm getting them all delivered there, OK?'
Phillip and Declan laughed together at her front.
'Fuck me, Bred, comes to something when even the Colonel Blimps have to resort to a bit of honest skulduggery to make ends meet.'
'I thought you'd appreciate the irony, especially as his daughter is married to the Chief Super's son.'
They were all really laughing now, and Declan could have kissed Breda - she knew just how to work Phillip, and bring him round to a better frame of mind. Even if they got a capture, the fact it was so close to the Filth would work in their favour. She was a shrewdie was Breda and she could find out anything about anyone, which she frequently did. Then she worked out how best the information could work in their favour. Declan knew he would have to put the hard word on her about not letting Phillip know too much about what was said about him. But he'd sort that as and when he had to.
'Suppose I'd better go up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire.'
As they all got ready to say goodbye, Phillip said thoughtfully, 'Shame really, ain't it?'
Declan slipped his overcoat on and said calmly, 'What is, Phil, what's a shame?'
'Ricky killing himself. That'll cause a ripple through the manor.'
Breda and Declan didn't say anything, both were digesting what he had said.
'Being so well liked, especially by all his
mates
, it'll come as a big shock to the local community, I can tell you that.' Turning to leave the room Phillip said over his shoulder, 'Lock up on your way out, Declan.'
Breda shook her head sadly, and Declan shrugged in frustration. They both knew poor Ricky was living on borrowed time.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Phillip looked good, as if he had slept the sleep of the just and the righteous, which of course, in his mind, was exactly what he had done.
As Christine placed a large Aga-cooked breakfast before him, he was all smiles and camaraderie. The boys were being dropped off at school by Jamsie, which had pleased his mother no end as she saw him becoming what she insisted on calling indispensable, and Declan was on his way over to sort out the day's business. Christine had slept well too, at least as well as you could sleep on three Valium and nine glasses of alcohol. Not even groggy, she had slipped out of bed, showered and dressed by six thirty. Phillip had a habit of wanting early morning sex which she didn't share so she was up and about as soon as, making him his breakfast, and preparing to give the already-spotless house yet another good cleaning. She made it seem important, and she knew Phillip was proud of her cleanliness, and overlooked her reluctance to lie in bed with him. She had told him the doctor had said her lack of libido was due to the meds, just as she blamed everything on the meds. Deep down Phillip had to know the truth but he wouldn't challenge her, because he wouldn't want to admit it. He knew what was really wrong with her, and he knew
she
knew. It was like the old song.
She laughed gently to herself, and noticed Phillip watching her intently. She was flying higher than a Boeing 747 and she liked it: she felt carefree, loose and almost happy this morning and, after last night's fiasco, that could only be a good thing. She would have to double up on the pills more often if they made her this energetic and happy. And later, she would have a nice cold glass of vin; whoever had invented wine was a fucking god, and that would set her up for the evening.
'You all right, Phil? You're staring at me.'
'I was just thinking how beautiful you are when you're happy - not that you ain't beautiful when you're sad, but when you smile, Chris, it really lights you up inside.'
She shrugged. 'The new pills are working, I think, they make me feel happier than I have in a long time.'
He nodded. 'I can see that. Shall we go out tonight? Have a meal, a few drinks and a laugh?'
She nodded. She knew it would please him, and she would be glad to get out of the house for a few hours. 'That sounds lovely. Get all dressed up, and paint the town red.' She could see how happy she had made him, and for a split second she felt guilty because it took so little to please him.
'I'll show you the new club later on. You will love it - it's really upmarket and the decor is superb, like something out of a fashion magazine. Really tasteful.'
He loved showing her how well he had done, it was important to him that she understood how hard he worked for them all. She knew that what he really wanted was her approval, and that it would make her life much easier if she just gave it to him. But it was hard at times, playing a part, pretending every minute of every day, it got her down. She felt the depression looming again, like a dead weight, and forced herself to stop thinking too much about her life.
'I'll look forward to it, Phil.'
She would dress up for him and wear her best jewellery; it made him proud when people admired her. He loved to see people gasp at their obvious wealth. She decided she would raid the safe and really go to town. Even get her hair and nails done.
She was surprised to find she was actually looking forward to it, and she saw that as a step in the right direction.
She heard someone pressing the electric gates, and automatically opened them, assuming it was the postman, so she was surprised to see Ricky pulling up in his top-of-the-range Mercedes. She saw him get out with a huge bunch of flowers, and a very contrite expression on his face; she had to admire his guts, if not his common sense.
'It's Ricky, Phil.'
Phillip shrugged and carried on eating his breakfast.
Ricky came through the back door all false smiles and obvious embarrassment. Christine went to greet him and, giving her the flowers, he said loudly, 'For you, Christine, an apology for my boorish and drunken behaviour last night. I have been getting serious earache off Deandra over my actions and I can only blame the surfeit of wine and brandy. Can you ever forgive me?'
Before she could answer Phillip said loudly, 'She might, but I fucking won't.'
He was wiping his mouth with his napkin, and sitting there, in his tracksuit bottoms, bare chested and needing a shave, it struck Christine just how very good-looking he actually was. His deep blue eyes were focused on Ricky, and she could feel the power of his gaze herself like a physical thing. It was accusatory, showing how upset he was at what had happened last night, and it was also devoid of any sympathy or pity for Ricky's obvious discomfort. Taking the huge bunch of flowers she left the kitchen, and made her way through to the utility rooms, shutting the heavy baize door behind her. She didn't want to hear any of this conversation, not today. She couldn't cope with any of it.
Ricky was on his own.
Chapter Sixty
'Look, Phillip, I can't fucking apologise enough, mate…'
Phillip was leaning back in his Carver chair, relaxed, with an interested look on his face. He was secretly pleased that Ricky had been so worried he had come round his drum first thing; it appealed to his sense of honour and respect. It showed just how worried the man had been. That appeased him in small measure. He appreciated it when people put their hand up - as far as he was concerned, it showed true strength of character. To be able to admit your mistakes was something all the powerful generals had been willing to do throughout history. It was a sign of good leadership, it was also a sign of shrewdness, because anyone with half a brain knew Phillip wasn't the type to swallow last night's events without some kind of retaliation.
'I bet you can't. But the thing is, Ricky, you not only mugged me off, you mugged me off in my own home in front of my wife. Now everyone knows how I feel about my wife - she is a very fragile girl, what with her delicate constitution, and last night's outrageous behaviour on your part upset her deeply, as it did me.'
He still hadn't offered the man a seat and, as he resumed his breakfast, Ricky felt like an errant schoolboy in front of the headmaster.
'I realise that, Phil, that's why I'm here first thing. I don't know what came over me. I feel like a right cunt and, on my life, Phil, I'd do anything to put it right. Get it all sorted. Of course
I'll sell the arcades to you, we had a good deal there, and I know that better than anyone. So can we put this behind us?'
Phillip was mopping up the last of his egg yolk with a slice of home-made bread and, popping the food into his mouth, he chewed on it thoughtfully before washing it down with the last of his tea. Then, standing up, he sniffed loudly and looked Ricky over as if deciding what to do about him. Finally he said, 'Talk to Breda, she'll know what to do.' Turning casually he left the kitchen, and let the door shut behind him loudly, leaving Ricky standing there like a fool.
Ricky felt somehow that he had got off quite lightly. He had expected a real hammering this morning, and he was pleased he was still in one piece - at least he could go home now and put poor Deandra's mind at rest. She was like a cat on a bonfire, so this should calm her down some.