Lil shook her head sadly. 'It's not about that, and you know it. She isn't right. You and her should be out having a good time together and she seems to get quieter and quieter as each year passes. I just think she's wasting her life sitting in that bedroom on her own.'
'And that's what I am trying to say to you, Mum. That is her prerogative. Kathy's always been quiet and into herself. She ain't silly, Mum, she is just really shy, that's all.'
Lil looked at this gorgeous daughter of hers, with her thick hair and her carefully made-up face. It was like seeing herself at that age and she knew that she had not aged too badly, she still looked good. Though how that could be, considering the life she led, she didn't know. But she couldn't understand how Eileen couldn't see the emptiness in her sister's eyes, the nervousness that couldn't just be a by-product of seeing her father killed. Kathleen was fey, according to her mother. She was a fairy child and those words had comforted Lil once, when she had been little, but not any more.
'How was school anyway?'
Eileen screwed up her face in disgust. 'Leave it out, Mum, what kind of question is that?'
The front door banged open and her two youngest children burst into the hallway and as they rushed into the front room, Lil wondered at how different they were to the other four. Colleen had big brown eyes and thick, curly hair and was all long legs and missing teeth and her brother, Christopher, had dark blond hair and the same brown eyes as Colleen. But Christy, as he was called, at nine years old, was already big for his age. Like his brothers he was going to be strong and tall.
Colleen sat on her mother's lap and began to regale them all with her day's activities. She was a dear child who was always sunny-natured and always at odds with Christy, though they were as close as two people could be.
Lenny Brewster had given her these children, had wanted her to have these children for him and all to try to wipe Patrick Brodie from her mind. He had made her his and that had suited her at the time; with five kids and no real income, he had been a necessity. He had forced her to take him into her life. After Christy, he had more or less abandoned her; he had made his point and was ready to move on.
She had expected that but she had also expected him to take care of them, and he had not been as generous as he should have been towards her. But as much as she loathed him for his neglect and his indifference he had given her these two babies and, for that much alone, she would always be grateful.
Chapter Twenty
'All right, Lenny?'
Lance's voice was, as always, neutral. He was a strange lad and Lenny wondered about this lad's calm demeanour, as he had many times in the past. He didn't bother to turn around and face him even though that was an insult in their world. He was too busy counting up the boxes of wine he had acquired that morning from a young up-and-coming Face who, it seemed, had a natural talent for hijacking lorries. He also, it had turned out, had an aptitude far beyond his tender years for sniffing out quality gear to thieve. Definitely someone to keep an eye on for the future; if he didn't get a capture and a large lump within eighteen months, he would consider bringing him on to the firm full time. Until then, he would buy anything of value for a fraction of its true worth and keep the boy onside with his protection.
'All right, son. What brings you here?'
He was expecting an answer and when none came he turned around slowly, one eyebrow raised, and an inquisitive look on his face.
'What's the matter, Lance? You lost the power of speech?'
Not for the first time, he felt a prickle of fear. Lance was staring at him with those dead eyes and he knew that the boy was definitely a few ampoules short of an overdose.
'You owe my mother money, Lenny, and you know it. I am here to remind you that we ain't kids no more and you are taking the fucking piss.'
Lenny bit on his bottom lip; his fat face was red and bloated and he looked like he wasn't capable of anything that could be construed as even remotely out of order. Lance, like most people who got to know Lenny well, knew that was his strength. As the years had gone on though and no one had stepped in to challenge his authority, Lenny had stopped pretending he was a nice guy. In fact, he was making the mistake a lot of men made when they finally reached the top of their professions; he had stopped caring what people thought about him. He thought he was above everyone around him and that he could disregard the opinions and the goodwill of the people who actually made it possible for him to pursue his ideals. Or, in Lenny's case, earn his daily crust.
'You a hard man now, Lance?'
The words were said with such disdain that Lance felt them as if they were a physical slap.
'You don't fucking scare me, Lenny. I am more than capable of taking you out, mate. Unlike you, I don't rely on other people to do my dirty work. I'd do it meself and you know that. I've done enough of it for you over the last few months.'
Lenny knew the boy was flexing his muscles and he also knew it was because his older brother was home from clink with a decent rep and the hunger for money and recognition that could be the death knell of people like him if they weren't careful.
Once you got too settled, you made mistakes, and one of Lenny's biggest mistakes was underestimating the boy in front of him. Lance was a handful on his own but only if he thought he had someone bigger in his corner and, until Pat Junior's release, that person had been him. Now though, blood would out, as it always did in these cases. And Pat and Lance were close, closer than most brothers were; probably because of the circumstances surrounding their father's death. The trauma had affected all the kids in one way or another.
Lil's love for her firstborn had been the bane of Lenny's life with her; it wasn't just that she loved the boy, it was because he knew Pat Junior was his father all over again. As long as Pat was breathing she would never be without the man she had adored.
Two children later and he was still no closer to her than he had been in the beginning. She had used him as he had used her and he could even have accepted that if only she had not made him feel second-best.
Lenny had everything that Patrick Brodie had worked for, owned, except the one thing that really mattered. Lil Brodie had been the icing on the cake as far as he was concerned. Only, he had got her by default and he knew that and, eventually, she had known that. Once he had laid his mark on her he had not wanted Lil any more and had punished her with his complete indifference. He had used her as he used everyone, even though a part of him, a small part of him, knew that what he had done to her was wrong. That the people in his circle who he depended on had lost respect for him over his treatment of Patrick Brodie's widow.
Lil's boys had grown up and now they were a team and it was up to him how that problem would be dealt with in the future. As he looked at the boy in front of him he knew instinctively that every sneaky deal he had done and every lie he had ever told, especially those that had pertained to Brodie's death, were finally coming back to haunt him. He had let people think that he was the man who had taken it upon himself to avenge that terrible death, to see that justice had been done when in fact he had actually been instrumental in its execution. He had allowed it to happen so he could take what he saw as his by rights. The affair with Lil had been seen as her falling for him because he had been so good to her. Because she needed his protection. Not that his wife had seen it so romantically, of course. She now lived in Surrey with a banker called Wright who had a comb-over and enough money to assuage her feelings of inadequacy and provide her with everything she had ever wanted.