An hour later, Spider was surprised to see the two men come into his drinking club and he knew then, that it was all over.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kathleen was in bed and no one could get her up. She couldn't seem to get herself together. Lance, as always, was spending as much time as he could with her. He talked to her for hours in his low voice, calming her down and making it easier for everyone else in the house. Lil couldn't keep her patience with her daughter; considering everything she had to contend with on a daily basis, a teenage drama queen was not something she had much sympathy for. The doctor said she was depressed, but how could a girl that age be depressed? And about what, for fuck's sake? The price of make-up, the new fashions; it was hard to understand. But Lil still felt guilt over Kathleen and her inability to make everything all right for her. The doctor had pilled her up and left them to it.
Now, she had all this shit to contend with and, Annie being Annie, was also in the frame. She was with the pair of them as often as they would allow her and, as good as Annie might be now, Lil still remembered how she had treated her all those years ago. She knew that her mother had caused a lot of the problems in her life. Probably in her kids' lives as well.
Lil was still getting over the night's events. Even though her heart was telling her it was wrong, she was relieved that Lenny Brewster was out of all their lives at last. He had been an enormous presence; even when he wasn't around, his personality and his hatefulness had hung over the house like a shroud. His absolute disregard for the children had hurt, not just her, but them too. Then, he would arrive out of the blue, and the anger in him would make everyone feel uneasy. Lenny had enjoyed the fear his presence created and she had hated herself for what she had put her family through. The kids had felt his indifference from an early age. Now they would not have to go through the trauma of knowing he was nearby and that his absence was a deliberate ploy to hurt them, even at their young age. Her Patrick, her boy, had saved them from him; he had done what should have been done many years before; he had wasted him. He had removed him from their lives like a cancer that had flourished, strangling the life out of everyone in its orbit.
Lil had been at her lowest ebb when Lenny had come to her and, although she had known he was not the best of men, she had believed he would at least care for them all. Taking on Brodie's family had made him look like he was a good man, a decent man. That he had seen them all right. But, like Patrick before him, he had seen himself all right without a thought for her or her kids. Even Patrick, the love of her life, had left her destitute. He could have made sure they were looked after, should have made sure they were looked after, and she had to admit to herself that he just had not bothered. She had not only lost her husband, the father of her children, she had also lost everything they had. She had ended up on the bash to make ends meet. They had five children, five, and he had not even had a will of any description. He had not allowed for his death, for his children's futures. It still rankled, still hurt her when she thought about it. She had loved him like she had loved no other. He had been her world and while he was there, he had looked after her, she didn't dispute that. But what had gradually occurred to her over the years was that he hadn't seen her as a soulmate, as an equal. He had seen her as his wife.
But now that Lenny had been disposed of, she felt as if she had been given another chance at life. She refused to mourn Patrick or the life she had once enjoyed any more. Her boy was home and he was taking over, like his father before him, and she hoped against hope that he wouldn't tuck her up as well.
Lil walked up the stairs and popped her head into Kathleen's room. She was lying there, her face turned to the wall and her shoulders hunched under the covers. It was a nice room, the girls had always kept their room nice. Lil looked around her then, as if seeing it for the first time. It was clean but it was in desperate need of redecoration. Patrick had weighed her out with enough money to get the place sorted and she was going to do just that. As she sat on her daughter's bed she felt her usual irritation at the girl's complete lack of anything even resembling a life. She hid it as best she could, for the most part, but seeing this beautiful girl with her whole life ahead of her just lying in bed for weeks on end made her so angry; she hated the waste of a life. Or of a youth that Kathleen was too young and stupid to realise would be over before she knew it.
As Kathleen opened her eyes and looked up at her mother, Lil saw the same loneliness there that she had seen in her own eyes all those years ago, and she couldn't understand it.
Kathleen had a whole network of people who cared for her, and yet she chose to waste her life away in a bedroom, and with a sadness that made her mother sick with guilt every day of her life.
Lily forced down the annoyance and said, with as much interest as she could muster, 'You feeling better, love?'
Kathleen nodded, slowly as always, as if the movement of her head was a really complicated manoeuvre and the question she had been asked was verging on life or death.
Lil had to clench her fists to stop herself from physically dragging this child of hers from the bed and slinging her out on to the street to force her to join in with real life; whether she wanted to or not.
Lil took deep breaths. She periodically felt like this about her daughter and, when she did lose it, she was always stopped by the others and made to feel so bad about what she had done. But Kathleen seemed to enjoy her depression too much for her liking.
'Have you eaten?'
'I can't, Mum, I feel so bad.' Her voice had a whine in it that once more spelled danger to Lil, and she nodded gently before turning to leave the room.
'Mum?' The voice was stronger now and Lil turned to face it.
'What, love?' She was trying her hardest to hide her irritation; her short temper was already on a low fuse.
Kathleen looked deep into her eyes and Lil saw the black circles and the grey skin that told her she really was unwell.
'I don't mean it, you know. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to be like this, so unhappy and so tired all the time. I can't help it, Mum, I just can't help it.'
Lil's anger dissolved then, and she felt the usual rush of guilt. She didn't know what to do for her baby girl who was hurting, and she didn't know what would make it better. She didn't know how to make the pain stop.
She sat on the bed and took Kathleen in her arms, feeling the softness of her as she hugged her tightly. 'I know you don't mean it, Kath, I just wish you wasn't feeling bad in the first place.'
As she tried to stroke her daughter and comfort her, Kathleen pulled away from her. 'Don't you ever hate life, Mum?'
Lil smiled then, a tiny, tired smile, and she answered her honestly, but with an edge of sarcasm to her voice: 'Every day of my life, darling, every day of my fucking life.'
Sergeant Smith was tall; tall and thin and he had a bad case of psoriasis. He spent the best part of his days scratching himself and, as he sat with Pat and Lance, they both watched him in morbid fascination. He was like a monkey in a zoo, except he had brown hair and watery grey eyes. Patrick knew he had been on the roll for a while; he was close with them all, at least he thought he was, and he was happy enough to change allegiance when he deemed it necessary. Like now, with Brewster's timely disappearance.