Chapter Ninety-Four
Jonnie Piper was a small man, but he was still not someone you would look at and dismiss. He had an air about him that said he could be a bit of a menace if crossed and, from what Phillip had heard, it was a reputation he had earned fair and square.
Phillip was surprised to find that he genuinely liked Jonnie. He had a good sense of humour and a catalogue of stories that were as funny as they were interesting. So he was well pleased with this initial meeting. Especially as Jonnie had come down to see
him
, and not vice versa. It was the little things that pleased Phillip Murphy, and the fact this man had travelled down to see him without question went a long way. If the meeting was on his turf, then he had the natural advantage. Piper also seemed impressed with the farm, and that told Phillip that he was a man of a discerning nature. He had treated Old Sammy with respect too, and listened to what he had had to say, suggesting that he was a gentleman. Scally or not, Phillip was pleased to be dealing with someone of such calibre. He saw no reason why they couldn't all earn together and enjoy the partnership, for the time being at least. So, all in all, Phillip was a very happy man.
Piper's wife had been his companion for over twenty-five years, and over the course of this first meeting she and Christine were already like bosom pals; both were first wives, and each still adored by their partners. In fact, the similarity between the two men in some respects was uncanny. They were like two peas in a pod in every way except looks. They had a natural affinity that seemed to give them a really solid understanding of each other. Both had fought to get where they were, and both had set ideas about how they conducted their private lives. Like Phillip Murphy, there was no scandal to be heard about Jonnie Piper. No little birds in the offing, or errant kids on the local housing estates. Phillip saw that kind of behaviour as disgusting; disrespecting your wife and kids was something he found anathema. Chasing skirt when you should be chasing the dollar was a mug's game and left you open to all sorts of situations decent men avoided like the fucking plague. To Phillip, it showed a weakness of character and inherent untrustworthiness: if you could swindle your own close family, then you were capable of anything.
Jonnie had his wife Mary and family and that was enough. Like Phillip, he was a good Irish Catholic boy, and he knew the importance of family. But, unlike Phillip, he didn't enjoy the violence, or feel the need to pretend every second of every day. In reality, he was the person Phillip wanted to be.
Phillip was fascinated by this man; he was observing him at close quarters, and he liked what he saw. He knew that he had the same effect on people as Jonnie and that pleased him. That Phillip also knew he could buy and sell Jonnie was even more satisfying, because he knew that he had the edge. He had seen the man's utter respect for the way they lived, he had felt his admiration. This was going to be a really good call.
Phillip was also pleased with Jamsie - he had researched the ins and outs of the cat's arse where this con was concerned and, if Phillip was honest with himself, he was pleasantly surprised. It seemed Jamsie had a natural flair for the job that was as surprising as it was welcome. He still hated him with a passion, but he could put up with him while he was bringing in such a good earn. It wasn't hard pretending; after all, he was the master at it. The thought brought a smile to his face and Jonnie, seeing it and mistaking it for bonhomie, smiled in return. Pouring them all large malt whiskies, Phillip said jovially, 'A toast, mate, to a good business partnership.'
Jonnie and the women raised their glasses, and Jonnie answered genially, 'Now you're onboard we can really make this fly. I can see that you and your brothers have put a lot of thought into this, and it can become much bigger. But what I wanted to ask you about as well is if you are interested in the money laundering? I've had a touch recently with the euro, and I'm looking for an investor.'
Phillip had heard wind of this euro scam, and he was intrigued. If Piper already wanted to talk other business, then the car fronts were basically sewn up. He had laundered money many times - it was how most people cleaned their wages. But this was seen as a necessity rather than a business deal. The tax were shit-hot on it these days and that, as always, just made the average bloke more determined to keep as much of his dosh as possible. It was a disgrace what Labour had done to the working man, more interested in the lazy cunts. Let's face it, no one who wanted a quality of life was going to vote for them. Phillip was disgusted with the country. As far as he was concerned, any man, especially someone like Tony Blair, who couldn't even admit to being a closet Catholic, who wouldn't admit to something so personal and important as his religion, wasn't worth the proverbial wank. If you couldn't stand up for your beliefs you were scum in Phillip's book. Religion taught you a way of living. It taught you that there was something
bigger
than you, something out there that knew the real you. It gave you a set of guidelines and, if you lived by them, you lived well. People without a good grounding didn't make the most of their lives. That was what he thought, and as much as he hated the priests at his sons' school, they had given the boys a good grounding and that was the most important thing.
'I would love to discuss the laundering further with you,
Jonnie Boy, but I think the ladies have had enough business tonight, don't you?'
Jonnie laughed in agreement, but knew he had piqued Phillip's interest. He couldn't believe his luck really; this bloke was pure class, and he knew that any association with him could only better himself. He needed someone on the ground this end, and he knew he couldn't refuse this man what he asked without a war, so he was willing to compromise. That he had every intention of leaving him out of the main earn though he wasn't about to admit.
Jonnie, as much as he liked Phillip Murphy, knew in his heart of hearts that the next step Phillip would make could only be towards taking complete control. But he kept his own counsel; after all, as the Bible said, sufficient to the time thereof, and when it happened - and it
would
happen - he would have all his soldiers in a row and ready to go. Jonnie Piper was a lot of things, but a fool wasn't one of them.
As they chatted about nothing, Christine watched her husband surreptitiously. She saw he was playing the big 'I am', and she knew that Jonnie and Mary were mugs if they thought this was the way they would always be treated from now on. Once Phillip had his in, he would go for the jugular, and she wondered what they would say if she let that little gem out of the bag. But she wouldn't - she was too tired, and too shrewd these days. Plus, she liked her way of life, and she knew that she had already pushed this man as far as he was willing to go. She had to watch her behaviour for a while, and enjoy the fruits of his labour. After all, what else was there for her? Her sons were off her hands, and her husband would once more be fully occupied all day and all night. He always was when he was setting up a new business, so she was going to lie back and enjoy the peace and quiet. They were all still chatting and laughing when she saw the car lights coming down the drive. She glanced at the clock, it was twenty past twelve.
'Who's that at this time of night?' Christine sounded worried and, getting up, she heard her husband laughing. 'What's going on, Phil?'
He grinned at her. 'It's your new car, darling, straight off the Ml. I ordered it from a geezer I know in Manchester.'
She heard the intake of breath from Mary, and they all got up and made their way out to the drive. It was lit up like Battersea Power Station, and the Bentley convertible was gleaming in the halogen lights.
'Oh, Phillip, it's lovely.' Even though she knew it had been delivered at this particular moment for no other reason than to impress Jonnie and his wife, she was still thrilled with it. Because she had mentioned it she had got it; these days that was all she had going for her, so she would use it to her heart's delight.
Declan was out of the car and handing her the keys.
'I wondered where you'd got to tonight!'
'Enjoy, Chris, it's a fuck of a motor.'
'Thanks, Phillip. I love it.'
'Your wish is my desire, babe.' He smiled amiably at her and walked into the house with the two men.
She knew she and Jonnie's wife were to ooh and ahh over the car while the three men talked the serious business of the night. It was strange though, now she had the car, she wasn't even that bothered about it any more. But the boys would love it, and that was something to look forward to; she saw so little of them these days. Her life was even emptier than before, and she knew that wasn't going to change. The boys had grown up and grown away, and she didn't know how to bring them back to her.
'Are you all right, love?'
Christine smiled at her new friend - she had few people she could call that these days - and said sadly, 'I'm feeling a bit emotional, I think.'
Mary put a friendly arm around her waist and said seriously, 'I'm not surprised, love, you don't get much change out of a hundred and twenty grand for one of them. You are a very lucky girl.'
Christine smiled, but she didn't answer her - she didn't know what to say. It always came down to the financial rewards, that was the trouble. But her life had cost her something far more precious - she had compromised her sanity. She was trapped, and she accepted that, because she could never leave her husband and, if she did, she would have nowhere to go. Phillip owned her, like he did this car, and everything around her.
Chapter Ninety-Five
Christine had taken the new Bentley for a spin, and ended up at her mother-in-law's. She often went round there when she was at a loose end; Veronica understood her better than most people. As much as she resented her mother-in-law at times, Christine knew that the woman would always fight for her in any way she could. In her marriage that was important, because Phillip listened to his mother, and that was only because she
was
his mother. Like most men, he had a romanticised image of her and she also knew that, in Phillip's mind, the woman lucky enough to give birth to him
bad
to be fucking special.
'Hello, love, you look well. I heard about the car, it's lovely.'
Veronica had never driven in her life, and had literally no interest in cars of any kind. But she knew this was a seriously expensive motor, and she also knew the neighbours would see it; that was her way of enjoying her daughter-in-law's good fortune.
'I love it. How're the arrangements going for the wedding?'
'Good, she's a very nice girl that Linda, and those children are really great kids.'
'I liked her. She gets on well with Breda and all. Even Phillip likes her!'
Veronica laughed with her then. 'I know, and he can be so fucking funny about people and their lifestyles, if you know what I mean.' It was the nearest she would ever get to criticising him, and they both knew it. But Veronica was amazed at her son's acceptance of a girl with four kids by two different men, and never a wedding ring on her finger.
'Jamsie's happy, that's what really matters. At the end of the day it's fuck-all to do with Phillip, isn't it?'
Veronica didn't answer the girl, she wasn't comfortable with this kind of talk about her son. 'Can I get you a cup of tea?'
Christine grinned. 'I'd rather have a drink, to be honest, but it's a bit early even for me! Tea will be fine.'
Veronica bit her lip, but she smiled anyway. 'Don't drink and drive, you know how I worry about you, child.'
Christine hugged the woman with genuine affection, she knew she really did care about her. Now her loving husband, on the other hand… It had occurred to her that the way he let her drink, he must harbour a hope she would wrap the car around a convenient lamp post. Yet she knew in her heart that wasn't true. In his own way he still needed her, whatever it was she had, whatever had attracted him to her in the first place, still kept him by her side. Because if any man had reason to walk out, he did. She knew if she had pushed a normal man like she had pushed him, they would have left long ago. But then he wasn't normal, was he?
She pushed the thoughts from her mind again, she had to stop dwelling on everything. The doctor said she had too much time to think, too much time on her hands. You had to laugh at men, it was all cut and dried for them. They knew nothing.
Veronica placed the teapot on the table and Christine got up and opened the biscuit tin. She ate a couple of digestives noisily - if you ate in this house you were all right. If not, you got a lecture about healthy eating and she wasn't in the mood. Plus, it pleased Veronica to see her eat, not that she ate very much these days. She still cooked, but she never had an appetite for what she produced. She enjoyed seeing the boys eat her food though, it was all they let her do these days, that and their washing and ironing, and the way things were going they wouldn't even need that soon.
'Are you all right, Chris? You were miles away again.'
Christine brought herself back to the present with difficulty; she was losing a lot of time lately, she would sit down and the next thing she knew hours had passed. It was the pills, she blamed everything on the pills. 'I'm fine, just a bit tired. I don't sleep that well, as you know.'
'You've seemed better in yourself lately, love, more lively, like.'
'Feel sick a lot of the time, to be honest. Tired out, and sick.'
Veronica grinned and said mischievously, 'Not pregnant, girl, are you? It's often the late ones that cause the trouble.' Veronica laughed in delight at the idea. She would be thrilled to have a new baby to fuss over.
But a cold hand of fear clutched at Christine's heart. Because she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that Veronica had identified
exactly
what was wrong with her. And that couldn't happen, she couldn't have another child. Not by
him.
Veronica watched the blood drain from her daughter-in-law's face, and she was saddened that what her generation would have classed as good news was seen as something to fear by this new generation. This girl had money and time, the two things a child needed in life to thrive, yet the prospect of a new life filled this girl with horror. What else had she to do with herself? She had a life that was crying out for some kind of meaning, she did nothing of value from one end of the week to the other, except drink, take her meds and shop. If she didn't have her urge to clean, she would be pissed all day long. For the first time Veronica felt a twinge of resentment for this girl who she knew was not right, not right at all.
'Don't bloody wish that one on me, for Christ's sake!' Christine was trying to make a joke now, but her mind was whirling. If she was pregnant, then no one must ever know about it. Especially not this woman, she would see it as a gift from God. Not what it really was - a punishment from Him. Because there would be no getting rid of it, not in this family anyway. All of them breaking their necks to get to Mass every Sunday, telling themselves it cancelled out their actions in real life. She was suddenly sweating, because she knew as sure as she knew her own name that she was pregnant. She felt too old to be pregnant. By a man she knew would see it as a wonderful event, as something to celebrate, to enjoy. Who would make her stop drinking, make her stop the pills, a man who would see that his child had the best start in life, and whose child would be tainted because it bore his name and his DNA.
Christine left Veronica's as soon as she could and drove for two hours to a chemist where no one knew her, where she bought three pregnancy tests. Starting up the car, her brand- new, lovely car, she contemplated her situation. She was still crying when she got home, but the house was empty and the kitchen was warm. She opened a bottle of Barolo and drank herself into a stupor. She would do the test first thing the next morning.
She was asleep at the kitchen table when Philly came home to change his clothes. He walked by her, his nose turned up in disgust. She was nothing but a drunk, and how his father put up with her he didn't know. He left her there, knowing that Timmy would put her to bed. Personally, he thought she was a disgrace. After changing his clothes he left the house quietly; he was on a promise again, and he couldn't believe his luck. Tiffany White had thighs like a pair of nutcrackers, tits you could lose your whole face in, and she was up for anything, anything at all. She was filthy, and he was loving every second of it.