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 him, he thought he was marvellous still having a J. Arthur Rank at his age.
He sipped his Scotch and glanced around the kitchen; it looked beautiful, but it was missing Christine. The Aga was turned low, no one was using it for the moment.
He couldn't deny that she had disappointed him, deeply disappointed him. He worshipped her, he had always seen her as a bit of class; from the first time he had laid eyes on her he had felt the attraction between them, and so had she. When he was driving her pain in the arse of a mother mad at the thought of them together, she couldn't get enough of him, but he lost his temper once, and she acted like
he
was the one with a problem. He felt tears sting his eyes, and relished them. At times like this he was capable of really intense emotions. Christine was the only woman who could make him feel so sad, so unhappy. In his heart, he was still ashamed of Christine seeing him out of control all those years ago; she had never known or even suspected the real him before then. He had loved being the person she thought he was. It was the same with everyone in his life, he showed them all a different side of him. But he had liked the person
Christine made him be, he had tried to be a decent bloke, and it had bled into his other lives as well, because he had to take care that she never heard anything untoward about him. Now though, he was like a rudderless boat, drifting aimlessly towards God knows what.
He felt the tears once more. He knew that he would never let her go and, more to the point, so did she. But he still hated to see her so unhappy. When she was sorted, and they aimed her out of rehab, he was going to send her off to Spain for a few months - a bit of sun and a nice relax and she would be right as rain again. He would send her mother with her; Eileen would love it and she'd make sure her daughter stayed off the drink and drugs. It was funny really, Christine taking to the drink and the old Persian rugs when she was such a straight girl in many ways. But, as the doctor said, these days there were more people on prescription drugs than ever took cocaine or the like. It was the middle-class panacea, and she had taken to it like the proverbial duck to water. A small part of Phillip knew he should let her go, that away from him she would blossom, would find some level of peace in that chaotic brain of hers. But, unfortunately, that just wasn't an option; he had married her, and they would stay married until death did them part.
The thought made him smile, and he was still smiling when the boys came down from their bedrooms and said goodnight. He was pleased to see them, and he thought about the men they'd grown into. Philly needed careful handling, he was too much like him for his own good, and Timmy, well, he was still waters all right - who'd have thought he would have took on that scum White and won! He was a handful was that Joey White, and he had seven or eight years on Timmy. He suspected it was all that rugby playing - he was built like a brick shithouse.
'Come and have a drink with me, boys. Pour yourselves a Scotch.'
He pushed the bottle of Paddy towards them and, when he saw how thrilled they were by the offer, he was glad he had made it. When they were settled with a drink he said proudly, 'To my lads - I'm fucking chuffed with the pair of you.'
They were both so exhilarated by his praise, and so grateful for his time, he felt the urge to cry again. He had neglected them shamefully, not just them, but his wife as well, and he swore there and then that once he had sorted Piper, he would concentrate on the family proper. He would become the man Christine had loved again, and prove to her that he could be trusted. He would rein in his anger, and he would romance her back to how she used to be. It never occurred to him that his wife might not want anything from him except peace of mind. Now he had decided what he was going to do, it was like the gospel to him - written in stone - and there was nothing anyone could do about it. He also decided he would blood the boys early; they were ready for it, and the younger you got them, the easier it was. He would let them in on Piper, and they could be invested into the firm easily and with the minimum of fuss. Philly wouldn't be hard to train, he was a natural, and now that Timmy had a taste of the glamour, he would be wanting more. It was the way of the world. Their world anyway.
Phillip raised his glass. 'To your mother, may she be home soon.'
The boys toasted her, but their minds weren't on Christine. They were still basking in their father's attention and, like an animal who sensed weakness, Phillip Murphy played it for all it was worth.
Chapter One Hundred and Eleven
'What are you trying to say to me? How the fuck would I know where Billy Bantry is?' Phillip's voice was loud and incredulous.
Jonnie Piper was not a happy man. He knew, in fact,
everyone
knew, that Phillip had to have had something to do with Billy's disappearance, but as usual no one could prove anything. All the same, he had come down to the office at the arcade to find out.
Phillip's denials, however, were strident and convincing. 'You're out of fucking order, mate, coming in here accusing me of all sorts… Even the Filth need something called evidence, even if they have to fabricate it, they can't touch you without it.'
Declan watched in fascination as Phillip played the wronged party; he was good, he was very good. Declan himself almost believed him and he knew
exactly
what had happened to Billy Bantry; after all, he had helped dispose of the body.
Philly watched and learned, he knew better than to offer an opinion of any sort. He knew he had to be silent, but alert, that was what his father always said. He was loving it, being a part of something so dangerous. It suited his temperament perfectly. Timmy was naturally quiet, so he just listened anyway, but he was taking it in all the same. Absorbing it like a sponge, and the more he got involved the more he found he wanted to. But they were both impressed with their father's tremendous power. It was as if he was not human somehow - when he spoke people listened, and they didn't argue with him too much. Even this bloke Piper seemed to be backing off now that Phillip had finally snapped at him.
'I asked you a question, Jonnie. Are you accusing me of doing something to Billy Bantry, to my old mate, the man who gave me a chance in life? Because if you are…' Phillip trailed off, as if waiting for the man to answer him, then he took a step towards him, and said angrily, 'Don't go all shy on me now, Jonnie Boy. You had enough fucking bunny a few minutes ago.' He was roaring so loud that he could be heard above the noise of the fruit machines and the computer games outside the room.
Jonnie Piper had never experienced anything like it in his life, and the worst thing was, he knew he was out of order - he had no proof at all. He realised too that he should have kept his fucking opinion to himself; he forgot at times who he was dealing with. Now, he felt like a right snide, as if he was trying to cause aggro where there wasn't any. But Billy Bantry had literally dropped off the face of the earth. Surely that warranted a mention? But that's what Phillip Murphy was best at - making people completely disappear. He had heard more than one rumour that one of his most lucrative businesses was disposing of remains. Nothing would surprise Jonnie, even though he knew, in their line of work, stories got stretched in the telling.
Phillip continued, 'For all you fucking know he has gone on the trot with
our
money because, let's face it, that bastard seems to be capable of anything. Plus he whacks
us
out, he pays
us,
not vice versa. So how much was he actually pulling in? As you and him are so close, like, maybe you can clear up that little fucking mystery and all?'
That was bollocks, but Jonnie wasn't going to voice that to Phillip Murphy. Once Phillip said that to a few people it would become a truth. Oh, Piper knew how their world worked - he was basically fucked. Phillip would set rumours going everywhere, and that was the best way to stop people stating the obvious. Give them a better story, and people would grab at it like a two-bob tart on a charabanc outing.
Phillip was deeply offended now at the aspersions, and he was showing it. 'Oh, why the Helen Keller act all of a sudden, hmm? I mean, he talked to you more than me lately; after all, you and him were already partners when I came into the firm, weren't you?' It was an accusation and Piper knew it. Oh, Phillip was clever. 'Did you have a falling out with him? I mean, you ain't exactly a person to cross either, are you? Like me, you have a temper, and you have a job where, every now and then, you have to put people in their place. Seriously in their place, especially when they start making you look like a cunt, do you know what I mean?'
It was a clear threat. Phillip was showing his hand, and there was nothing Jonnie Piper could do to stop him. He had walked straight into this, and he could kick himself to death because of it.
'I'd hardly be looking for him now, would I, if I had anything to do with his demise?' Jonnie Piper couldn't believe he was now having to defend himself.
'But that's just it, Jonnie. I mean, think about it, you
would
be looking for him, to take the suspicion off, like. I just assumed he'd gone on holiday or something, it never occurred to me that some sort of skulduggery might be afoot.
You're
the one who brought all that to my door.'
Phillip turned to Declan and asked quietly, 'Did
you
see the said Bantry out in Marbella? In fact, did you see anyone even resembling him while you were there?'
Declan had to laugh. Phillip was acting like Miss Marple - raised eyebrows, pursed lips, the lot. He could really take the piss when it suited him, and he was taking the piss now, of that there was no doubt. Everyone in the room was embarrassed for Piper; even the boys were finding it hard not to smile, and they were only kids. This was a story that would be told, and told frequently by Phillip for laughs.
Declan played the game, as he knew was expected of him. 'Not hide nor hair, Phillip. But then his own wife ain't seen him, so he could be off with a bit of strange. Billy always liked the young ones.'
Jonnie Piper saw he was beaten. He'd just about had enough of this man. Admittedly he had been having him over with Bantry since the off, but it still rankled. And now there was the added worry of exactly how much Phillip knew about the situation. If he
had
outed Bantry, and of that there was no doubt in Jonnie's mind, he must know the real score. Declan out in Marbella could mean only one thing - the euro scam. Jonnie needed to regroup, rethink, and decide on his course of action. Which basically meant he had to kill Phillip Murphy before Murphy killed him.
So he changed tack and smiled widely. 'I expect you're right, Phillip. Billy's a fucker though, just going off like that.'
Phillip opened his arms wide, the big, benevolent friend now. 'He went off once for a wedding in Newcastle, and didn't come home for over three weeks. Turned out he had fucked off to Thailand with a local rugby team he'd met on the stag night. You'll get used to these strange southern ways, Jonnie,
I'll
make sure of that.'
Everyone laughed, but no one thought it was funny.