Martina Cole: Close

'Eileen was on the phone earlier. I couldn't make head nor tail out of what she was saying. But she was crying.'

Lil shrugged, the trademark shrug that had seen her through all the trials and tribulations of her life, and said sadly, 'It's the anniversary soon, Colleen, and then we've got poor Pat's birthday…'

Ivana nodded. 'I know.'

Ivana was still beautiful and looked much younger than she actually was. Her extreme thinness had turned to a pleasant plumpness after the baby had been born and she was still tiny, but not so gaunt looking. Pat was still with her and he was still out and about when the fancy took him. Lil was sorry about that but she kept out of it. Ivana seemed able to cope with it, so who was she to butt her nose in where it wasn't wanted? It grieved her though. She could see the sadness behind Ivana's eyes at times, and she wished she could do something to alleviate it.

'Forty, eh? How does it feel to have a forty-year-old son?'

Lil grinned then, her face screwed up in mock horror.

'Well, I've had fucking better days!'

Ivana was laughing with her when Pat walked into the office with Lance. The atmosphere was automatically charged, it was always the same when Lance was there. He seemed to bring upset with him wherever he went.

The air in the room was almost electric and Lil and Pat looked at each other warily as Ivana made herself scarce. Lance had never once spoken to her directly and even though he had not said one word to her, she was more than aware of his opinion of her.

Paulie Brick walked into the house and looked around him warily. Eileen was capable of launching herself at him from a hiding place. She was a handful when she was drunk and, unfortunately, that was most of the time.

He regretted shouting at her earlier but she made him so angry at times that he could often strangle her without a second's thought. He walked through to the state-of-the-art kitchen and saw the glass everywhere. And on the granite work surface he noticed the remains of her cocaine and the screw top from the whisky bottle.

He sighed. He had noticed the car was gone but guessed she was in the house somewhere; she never seemed to stay out for any length of time. She preferred to stay home and get wasted. He wondered if the car was still in one piece and hoped that if she had crashed it, she wasn't hurt again. Last time she had been so out of it she had not even noticed a broken wrist.

He heard the faint sound of music and rushed upstairs to the master bedroom. She was lying on the bed. It had been left unmade for days and she was listening to Dionne Warwick; that meant she was even more depressed than usual.

As she sang 'walk on by' to herself, she noticed her husband was in the room with her.

'Hello, darling, come and lay with me.'

She was a good drunk now and he smiled at her tenderly. He loved her like no other and each day, as she attempted to destroy herself a little bit more, his heart broke.

He lay down beside her. Her hair needed a good wash, her clothes were crumpled, and her breath was atrocious. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw the guilt and the bewilderment that had attracted him in the first place. He had believed all those years ago that he could make her better. But he couldn't, no one could.

'Don't leave me, darling. Please don't ever leave me, will you? I'd die, see. I would, I'd just die without you…' She was slurring her words and he knew she would have no recollection of anything by the morning, but he held her tight and reassured her of his love and devotion.

'Don't you go and walk on by. I'd kill meself, I would. Do you think Colleen was walking somewhere, eh? Walking by someone…'

She was rambling now. He knew all the stages of her drunkenness; the next step was when she fell asleep, unconscious would be a more apt expression, and then he would lie there and watch her, wondering when this would all fucking end. He was tired of it, so bloody tired.

'I ain't got to answer to you or her for that matter.'

'No one said you did, Lance. You want to walk away from this firm, then you go. No one's going to stop you and her, as you referred to our mother, has as much right to question you as I do.'

Lance looked at his older brother with his usual disdain.

'I can work where I like and with whom I like.'

Pat walked towards him then and, looking him in the eye, he said loudly, 'But that's just it, Lance, you can't. You can't fucking go round with your mate Barker threatening people we are in partnership with. What kind of fucking stupidness is that? If they owe money to Barker then let him go and pull it in; you ain't got no fucking allegiance to that cunt. No one has; he's a standing joke, a by-word for liars and thieves. He's one leg up from a fucking gas-meter bandit and it's a wonder he ain't out there kiting, he is such a fucking twonk!'

Lance ran his hands through his hair and laughed nastily. 'He could fucking buy and sell you, mate.'

Lil had heard enough and, getting up from her chair, she pushed Pat out of the way and bellowed, 'How dare you! You're nothing but a fucking leech. If you think that by going around with that ponce and threatening people in their own homes with their kids there, that we will walk you out of that one, you can think again, boy. We've put the word out and if anyone wants to come back at you, they can. And you tell Donny from me, that if I ever see him again, I'll fucking dismantle him meself. And you know me, Lance. I am more than capable of doing that, if the fancy takes me.'

'Oh, here we go, you telling me what to do as usual. You don't mind me breaking heads when it suits you two, do you?'

Lil started laughing then. Really laughing. A sad, almost heartbroken laugh that was as insulting to him as it was making the guilt inside him unbearable.

'Of course we don't mind you doing that, it's what we pay you for, it's what you do in this family. Let's face it, you don't do fuck all else.'

Pat pulled her away and walked her back to her seat.

'Mum! Sit down and let's sort this out, shall we?'

Lil was not in the mood. Lance's complete disinterest in what they were trying to say to him had finished her. She wanted him out now and she was not bothered who got hurt by it, least of all Lance.

'Fuck him, Pat; if he thinks that he can do that without any kind of comeback, then let him go. Let him go and work with Donny Barker. Only he would be silly enough to fucking contemplate that. Everyone else gives him a wide berth but then most people do the same thing with him, don't they, Lance?'

Pat was annoyed now. His mother was making matters worse.

'Mum. Just shut up a minute, will you?'

She lit a cigarette, one of the few she smoked these days, and it was a sure sign of her agitation.

'No, I fucking won't shut up. I have wanted to say this for a long time. He mugs us all off and we let him. When I heard you had threatened the Chapmans in their own home for a few fucking grand, money that Donny had creamed off their boy, I was so ashamed and so fucking embarrassed that I nearly died. They didn't owe him a bean, their boy did and he owed a few hundred, that was all. Donny makes up half his debts and you, like the fucking div you are, go in there with him and do his dirty work. Half the debts he buys are not even valid. He fucking snows you and then he takes the piss out of you. Ask around. He thinks he is a big man because he has a fucking Brodie as a pet. Well, Lance, you've been warned before and you ain't took a blind bit of notice. This time it's for real, this time I am going to sort you out once and for all. It's over.'

Lance had never heard her like this before; she never spoke to him unless she had to. He had always used that against her, knowing that her guilt over him and the way she treated him had kept him in good stead all his life.