Martina Cole - The Family

They laughed together companionably and, once more, Christine wished she had heard her sons talk about her years ago. If anything could have stopped her drinking and pill- popping, it would have been the words she had heard from her elder son the other night. Listening to her Philly telling this girl what he had really thought and how he had felt over the years had been the jolt she needed to finally clean up her act.

The real surprise had been how pleased she had felt to see

Phillip standing there. She had seen the sad look on his face, because he knew how much it would have hurt her; Timmy had obviously filled him in on the night's events. She was amazed at how eagerly she had run into his arms. He had seemed like her lifesaver at that moment, she had felt such relief at seeing him in the kitchen. She had to admit, no matter what had happened over the years between them, he would always be there for her, and she was aware that she had always relied on him for that. No matter how much she had hated him, she had still needed him.

Her life was set now and she would never get away – not unless one or the other of them died. But there was still hope for Finoula, and she wanted her to have her eyes wide open to the life she would be taking on when she married a Murphy The lying, the deceit, the knowledge that her husband could be taken from her at any time; either with a gun, as had been proved already, or by a court giving him twenty years. She wanted this girl to know that the security around her would be suffocating at times – armed men patrolling the grounds because of a deal that had upset someone enough to want them all dead. She would have to learn about keeping her thoughts private, because a careless word could bring terror to her doorstep. And stashing every receipt because you might have to prove purchase one day for the most mundane of things; the tax were shit-hot, and the one set of people you couldn't buy. There was still so much this girl had to learn. She might have the benefit of being Mad Jack's daughter but, in comparison to her family, Mad Jack was an amateur in the criminal stakes.

Finoula hugged the woman who would soon be her mother- in-law. She really liked her, and she sensed that she was very unhappy. 'I can't wait to start learning to cook properly. Philly always talks about what a good cook you are. Your food's legendary.'

She was being kind. Christine knew her son loved her food, but she had a feeling he would much rather she had served it to him sober.

'Even the doctor thinks he's putting on weight properly, and you cooking him such wholesome food has been a real help.'

She smiled, but she didn't answer the girl; instead she walked to the kitchen door and motioned for Finoula to follow her. As they walked up to the big barn, Christine observed the girl's pleasure in her surroundings.

'It's a huge place, isn't it?'

Finoula nodded.

'When we bought the house there were only a couple of acres, but we own everything now. Do you see that farmhouse over there in the distance?'

Finoula nodded; it was a nice property, really big and it had wonderful brick chimneys.

'Phillip's giving it to you and Philly as a wedding present.'

Finoula looked at Christine to see if she was joking with her; she clearly wasn't, because she looked very serious and contemplative.

'The people who owned that house had farmed there for over two hundred years. Phillip offered a fair price for it and they refused. Eventually, after their water supply had been poisoned, and their barn burnt to the ground, he got the place for a song. They live in the village now, their children spread all around the country. They were nice people, they even brought us over some lovely cuttings when we first moved in…'

Finoula was nonplussed. She didn't know what Christine wanted her to say, didn't know how she was supposed to react to these revelations.

'I don't want to hurt you, Finny, all I am trying to say is that things in this family aren't always like they seem. Not with Philly – he's a diamond – but we always get everything we want. Remember though, it's often at someone else's expense.'

Finoula nodded. She understood and she knew this woman was only trying to help her. Even though she had a strange way of showing it.

'Enjoy that house – it's crying out for a family – but never forget how you came to acquire it.' She waited for the girl to digest her words before she added, 'And see that building there, with the huge chimneys?'

Finoula nodded.

''Never go in there, and never ask about what happens there.'

'Why? What happens there that's so mysterious?'

Christine smiled, an enigmatic little smile. 'I don't know. What I do know is there's an unspoken rule in this family, and it's that the big barn is off-limits. You'd do well to remember that, Finoula, and never question anyone inside or outside the family about it.'

Finoula was uneasy now; there was more going on here than met the eye. But she consoled herself with the fact that this woman was off her tree most of the time, and this was probably one of those days. The pleasure she was getting from her surroundings was gone, however, and the huge open spaces were suddenly not beautiful and picturesque, but isolated and frightening.

'Come on, let's go back and make a pot of coffee, shall we?'

Finoula agreed in relief, but although they chatted about normal things for the rest of the day, Christine's words stayed with her.

'Well, the dirty deed has been done!'

Phillip, relaxing back into the living-room sofa, sounded happy. The wedding had been a success on every level. The bride had looked spectacular in a Vera Wang creation – whatever the fuck that was! – and the groom had looked suitably terrified and happy at the same time. The guest list had read like a who's who of the criminal underworld; everyone who was anyone had accepted their invitation, and Phillip had put on a show of spectacular proportions. People who had flown in from abroad were picked up in chauffeur-driven limos, and provided with top- class accommodation. It would be talked about for years, from the wedding itself to the spectacular entertainment provided.

Poor old Mad Jack! Phillip had seen the relief on his boat- race when he had found out that all he had to pay for was the booze – and that was a pretty penny. Even then, Phillip had slipped some stuff in himself on the quiet. The gift of the farmhouse had been very well received, although Finoula had looked a little frightened by it; he expected that was because she wasn't used to such largesse. Money, serious money, frightened people. Like those cunts who won the lottery and still went to work in shit jobs. He could understand the shock might make them nervous, but the whole idea of the lottery was to change your boring life. He shook his head at the stupidity of the average person – then they bemoaned the fact they lived like fucking serfs. It was the welfare state, that's what it was – made people frightened of success.

As he sipped on his brandy, and looked at his happy but tired- out wife and around his wonderful home, Phillip finally felt like he had made it. The day's events had set him back the national debt, but it had given him the opportunity to show the world just how fucking well he had done. He had seen the looks from the guests, seen the envy mixed with utter admiration for him, his family and his way of life.

Philly had been determined to marry from the farm and he wanted his reception there, whereas Phillip had wanted a top class hotel in the West End, somewhere discreet but classy. But now he was glad it had been on the farm. Because once the marquees had been erected, carpeted and hung with chandeliers, he had been able to indulge in a different kind of showing off. He had the best chefs, and they had cooked only what he grew, from the meat to the veg. That had really impressed so many people; they had thought he played at farming, he realised that now, they didn't see it for the lucrative business it actually was. No, that had been a coup really, people had not comprehended just how successful he was outside of Southend Seafront. He had shown the world that they had the one thing money could never buy: class.