Martina Cole - Close

'Not here, mate, me nan…'

The boy looked like a child, his chubby face was open and he was more than aware of his fate.

Pat grinned and said jovially, 'What do you think we are, Lenny, fucking animals?'

'Fuck me, Lil, a pair of brahmas there, girl.' Her stepfather's voice dragged her from the sleep that complete exhaustion and two Mogadon from a worried nurse had finally given to her.

Lil looked at him with dark-rimmed, tired eyes and Mick knew that she wished him as far away as was physically possible. He felt the urge to smack her across her smug face, but he didn't, he was still playing the game. Still acting as if she was his daughter and he was a doting grandfather.

The twins though, they were beauties; even he was touched by their good looks and the perfect symmetry of their features. They were two peas in a pod all right, and he envied Brodie his family more at this moment than ever before.

The word had hit the street that Brodie had out-gunned the pretenders to his throne, hence this very public appearance at the hospital to welcome his new granddaughters. But as the man of the moment was nowhere to be seen, maybe the pavement talk was a bit premature.

'You need anything, love?'

She barely moved her head in denial and the disrespect was not lost on him and he grinned.

'I bet Pat is over the moon, eh, love?'

This was said with the confidence of someone who knew that her husband had not been anywhere near and Lil could feel the animosity coming off her stepfather in waves. There was an underlying sarcasm in his voice that told her he had heard something about her old man's whereabouts. He was aware of the Old Bill turning the house over; her mother would have seen to that, so she kept her expression blank, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had rattled her.

The silence between them was finally broken by Mick's harsh cough. He broke eye contact and dropped his head on to his chest in a shamefaced manner and Lil knew she had unnerved him; for all his hatred and his bravado he was a coward, and like all cowards, he was also treacherous. She knew he would sell every one of them down the river without a second's thought if it gained him anything.

'Fuck off and leave me be.' Her voice was deep from a lack of sleep and emotion, and she was pleased to note that he left without a word. She was shaking again. It was over forty-eight hours and she had still not heard from Pat. That in itself was not unusual, he often disappeared, but he had to have known that they had been turned over. That she had been left to sort it while her belly was nearly dragging on the floor. He had to have thought of her condition and his boys, surely? The fact he had not contacted her made her feel abandoned, frightened and lonely.

No one seemed to be answering their phones either, and that alone told her that something was wrong, very wrong. Even the club phones were off the hook, so she had nothing and no one to allay her fears. Once more she felt the enormous weight of her worries lying heavy on her shoulders as she wondered where the fuck her old man was and why he had not been in touch. The ache in her breasts was nothing to the tight band of tension that was slowly squeezing her head until she felt as if it was going to explode. In a strange way, she hoped he was banged up, because if he was still at large it meant that he had not been bothered about them all; that they had not even entered his head.

Dicky Williams was getting out of his car with his usual jaunty air when he was shot repeatedly in the head and body. Lenny was obviously not the culprit, and no one seemed any the wiser about who it might have been. It was a head-scratcher all right.

It was too late for his death, that was the sad part, because the whole debacle was over and poor Dicky had been taken out after everything had been sorted, but no one seemed to have any knowledge about it whatsoever.

It was a tragedy, more so because the other Williamses were not capable of keeping themselves together without his strength of character. It would soon become apparent that Dicky's death, not Terry's, would be the catalyst that would bring the whole lot of them down.

Kathleen and Eileen were toddling around the room and Pat was laughing at their antics. They were his heart and everyone, including the boys, accepted that fact. The girls, as they were always referred to, were gorgeous; blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauties who had never in their life been subject to anything except love and spoiling. At three, they were a mirror image of each other. They were also bright; early talkers, early walkers and they were already ruined by their parents and brothers.

Patrick watched his wife as she wiped noses, tidied up the house and cooked the dinner. Lil was a strong girl and she was still the only woman for him. As his daughters held out their arms to her and she reached down to hug them, he smiled at the picture they created and felt a lump in his throat.

She was a beautiful woman and four children had not diminished her allure in his eyes. If anything it had made her more attractive to him. But with the birth of the twins she had been forced to give up working with him, and even though she loved being a mother to them all, he knew she missed the excitement of being a part of his working life. She glanced at him and smiled sadly; she could see through him as if he was a pane of glass and they both knew it.

Guilt ate away at him. He had been on the missing list for two days when the girls were born, and the fact that his wife, his Lil, had not even mentioned it, spoke volumes. She had stopped asking him questions a long time ago, didn't want to know where he had been, she no longer cared. All she seemed interested in was money, she was obsessed with money. She demanded it as her right and how could he deny her? Four kids cost money, a lot of money, but sometimes he felt that was all he was to her, a meal ticket, a pay packet, even though he knew that was unfair.

He was turning into his father and he hated himself for that. But the clubs called to him, he got a few drinks inside him, started mug-bunnying and, before he knew it, the night was over and the morning was there. The girl he had spent the day and night with wasn't fit to clean Lil's shoes, yet he had not cared about that. She had been young, available and fresh-looking. She had also been as thick as shit and up for anything. He had fucked her rigid in the back of his car and he couldn't even remember her name. She had been in possession of a pair of firm tits and a nice smile and that had been criteria enough for what he had wanted at that particular moment in time. He had used her, as he always used the girls who hung around him, and who made him more grateful than ever that he had his Lil waiting for him at home. As soon as it was over and the drink wore off, he wanted shot of them and he was disgusted with himself, swearing it would be the last time.

However, it was becoming a frequent occurrence, even though it meant nothing. He stayed out even when there was no actual work involved, nothing to do, no reason not to go home to his family, and he felt a right ponce. He was taking the piss out of Lily and he knew it. More to the point, she knew it. If Lil had been out all night on the gatter he would have caused a fucking riot. If anyone even looked at her sideways, he felt a jealousy that was capable of causing him to murder. As she always pointed out, you judged people by your own standards. Because he was capable of taking a flier, he assumed she was, even though he knew she was better than that. The worst thing was that she had a natural, built-in shit-detector that told her when he was pulling a fast one.

Patrick was the king of the hill now, he had made himself a rep that was so solid, so concrete, that no one in their right mind would challenge him. In a strange way, this disappointed him. Patrick knew that to keep on top you had to put on a show of strength on a regular basis, not only to warn off any pretenders, but to keep your workforce in line. He had a lot of people working for him now, and a few of them were capable of being contenders if he was fool enough to give them too much leeway.