Carrying a piece was as inevitable to him now as was his thirst for revenge, not just for his father but for his mother as well. For the struggle her life had been to feed and clothe them and bring them up, especially after Brewster had moved in on them and then dumped them. His mother, who should have been left comfortable, who should have been taken care of with his father's graft, had been reduced to selling herself to make ends meet. The drink had become her daily sustenance and had even made Annie bearable. His mother had been hardened over the years but he was determined to make her life as easy as it would have been had his father lived to see them all grow.
Like Spider said, his father had been murdered by the Williams brothers all right but all his graft was gone, his kids had been robbed of what should have been theirs by rights and Brewster was finally being seen for the two-faced, no-neck bastard he really was. He would pay for his fucking treachery and, by making him pay, young Patrick Brodie knew that he might finally get some kind of peace.
He had had a long time to think, learn and plan. That was the only good thing about stir; it gave you plenty of free time to decide how best to go about your daily business once you were on the out.
As they all got ready for the off, he glanced at a photo of his father and felt the sting of tears; he had worshipped him and he had seen him brutally killed. But his legacy would always carry on, he would see to that himself.
'Colleen Brewster, you bloody liar!'
Colleen was laughing her head off and it was such a deep and hearty laugh that it infected all the girls around her. She was a card was Colleen and now her big brother was out of poke she was intelligent enough to feel the difference in the way they were treated by everyone around them. The local shopkeeper had given her sweets as gifts; refusing her money as if she had never been asked to pay for anything before. The first time it had happened she had thought it was a wind-up, then the man had smiled craftily and said, 'Give your brother me regards, won't you?'
It was then that she and Christy had understood the esteem her brother was held in. Her father was a Face, she knew, but no one tried to get round them for his benefit because everyone knew he didn't give a toss about them. All her friends at school were aware of their parents' gossip and knew that her brother was home. Lance had a reputation as a nutter and Pat was a nut as well. When Lance went, it was so over the top he scared anyone around him. But her big brother Pat was the one people seemed to be more chary of; seemed to find the more sinister of the two. Colleen knew though that Lance, who was good to her, was the madder; she had seen him flip and she never wanted to see it happen again. She had been literally terrified and she had caused it; she had made him lose his temper like that. He had dragged the man out of his house and beaten him in the street until he was unconscious. She had been playing knock-down ginger and the man had told them off. She had cried and then told Lance, who just lost his mind. Colleen had learned a big lesson that day. At seven years old she had understood the strength of her brother's anger and the trouble that an unwise word could cause.
As chatty as she was and as much as she loved to laugh, she was wary of what she said now. At nearly nine, she was already a diplomat.
As she walked home from school with her friends they crossed over the road and, walking together, they passed the bookies in the high street. Her father, Lenny Brewster, was standing outside with a young girl. Colleen looked at him as she always did when she came across him. He looked through her, as he always did when he came across her. It bothered her that he was her old man and he had no interest in her but as she looked at him she was also glad; he had a screwed-up, angry face. His teeth were overly big for his mouth; she knew she had his mouth but she also knew that on her it looked different. The thick lips and slightly over-big teeth gave her a pout that would one day be her best feature. Colleen had been told she had a lovely smile ever since she could remember and she believed it, because she knew her laugh made others laugh along with her.
She was bold enough to make eye contact with her father and she knew he was as aware of her as she was of him. She was glad that her Patrick was home and that everyone was happy because of that and she was beginning to understand that now her father would have to answer to their Pat and she wondered what the upshot would eventually be.
She heard her older sisters calling out behind her and she turned to see them walking towards her with their long blond hair and their navy school uniforms. She waved at them happily. She loved the twins, they were like extra mothers to her and Christy. She hugged her sisters as always and then waved her friends goodbye at the bottom of her street. She was holding Kathy's hand as she always did, though she often felt as if she was looking after Kathy and not the other way round. Even as young as she was, she knew that Kathy was in need of looking after. So Colleen looked up at her older sister and smiled sweetly at her. Kathy smiled back and squeezed her hand gently but the sadness in her eyes made Colleen feel like crying.
Kathleen stopped and bent over, holding her belly. 'You all right, mate?' Eileen's voice was concerned.
Kathleen nodded and smiled grimly. 'I've got the shits again.'
'Charming! You've had that all week. See the quack or the school nurse.'
'I will, I'll go tomorrow.'
Kathy looked down at her little sister and saw her watching her dad and his latest amour and, squeezing her hand gently, she said, 'Ignore him, darling.'
Colleen smiled up at her with her bright little smile and said gaily, 'Sod him, I don't care about him.'
But she did sometimes.
Little Johnny and the Brodie boys stood outside the post office for a few seconds as they pulled on their balaclavas. It was just getting dark and the rain that had been threatening was already coming down. They walked inside casually and gently shut the door behind them. Then, pulling the shotguns out from under their coats, they started the blag. Little Johnny jumped on the counter and slipped easily over the glass partition known in the trade as the bandit screen. His small stature was ideal for that job and he got offered a lot of work because of it. He was small and wiry and he had slipped over more bandit screens than he cared to remember; earning a good wedge into the bargain.
There was no one in the post office, which was a result, as the last thing they needed was a have-a-go hero. Lance was still watching the door in case someone did decide to come in and buy a stamp. If anyone did come in, they would then be firmly walked away from the window and told in no uncertain terms to lie on the floor and shut the fuck up.
The two women who ran the place had been taking advantage of the quiet spell and were having a quiet cup of tea. The sight of the men and the guns they were brandishing terrified them and both were rooted to the spot for a few seconds.
Smiling through his balaclava, Patrick said, 'Come on, girls; sit yourselves down. We only want the money, nothing else; you can keep your virginity.'
The two women rushed through to the back of the shop and watched in shock and fascination as Johnny leapt over the counter.
'Go and fucking sit down. You move and I'll blow your fucking heads off.'
Little Johnny's voice was loud and frightening. It was all an act, he had no intention of shooting anyone but it was a requisite action; it stopped people from doing something stupid. He threw the bundles of money over the bandit screen and they were placed into a large leather shopping bag. The money was sealed tightly into neat packages and had the address of the firm it was to be used by printed on it or the bank it had come from. As they were neatly packaged, that made the job so much easier. Robberies like this were often committed for what was called running money. For the boys it was a little bit of bunce, some start-up money to make sure that they could buy up a few more debts and make a few more deals. A few months down the line and they might be tempted to blag the place again. People always thought lightning didn't strike in the same place twice but it did.