'Hey, Jimmy, I hear that Brewster was well fucking gutted when he was taken out. Is that true?'
Jimmy grinned. A few beers short of a witness statement, he knew that the circumstances were probably common knowledge by now. In a joking voice that was just loud enough to be heard by the people surrounding him and a few of the eavesdroppers standing nearby, he said, 'Well, when he realised that he was on the way out, he was completely crushed, I can tell you.' Jimmy nodded his head in derision and knew that he had made a statement that would be remembered and repeated for a long time to come.
Everyone laughed again and Jimmy was aware that Spider was smiling with the others but not, in any way, committing himself. But then, Spider never had overcooked the turkey; he was far too shrewd and still was, by the looks of it. Jimmy knew how fragile villains' friendships could be; unless you were born and bred with someone, how the fuck could you really trust them? Jimmy's instinct was telling him that he couldn't trust Spider as far as he could throw him.
He also understood that Lance had absented himself from the main event and that told him that he was also someone to watch closer than a filth with stolen goods.
He drank his drink and he watched the people around him; he knew how to play the game and it was why he was still on the dance floor all these years later. Young Patrick Brodie was going to be his golden goose; it was like having Pat back in the team. Like his father, he had the spark, that little bit of extra something that made people listen to him and respect him. And he also had the violent streak that was so attractive in men of their ilk.
Jambo Delaney was a good-looking man. He had broad shoulders, a strong jaw and he walked with a straight-backed strut that made him very attractive to the opposite sex. He had been given the nickname Jambo, Swahili for hello, as a young man. Everyone wanted to say hello to him; he had that kind of face, that kind of demeanour about him. No one could not like him, it was impossible not to like him. He had no bad points really. Not only was he great company, he also fitted in with any crowd. But he could, when required, have a row too. A real row, a row that stopped errant husbands from forcing their opinions on him or trying to get a reaction of any kind.
Left alone, he was good company and well worth an evening's drinking with, but upset, he was a different kettle of fish. Once first blood had been drawn he would defend himself with such vigour and strength that the assailant would always retreat in haste. He was a man who would let the first punch go for free; anything over and above that and he was entitled to defend himself and defend himself he would.
Jambo was a nice guy, if a little lazy, and a little forgetful. Sometimes he didn't know who the husbands were talking about; he'd forgotten the women involved, even though they rarely forgot him. As far as he was concerned, they were an interlude, a good time and, in some cases, a means to an end. But he never meant to hurt anyone, wife or husband; he never set out to cause any heartbreak.
Jambo earned a crust by minding, debt collecting or talking his way into company. He was a womaniser and, like all womanisers, he never understood why women took him so seriously. What made them think he was going to treat them any different to any other woman he had been with? Why did they always think they were the one who would change him, make him settle down and want to be with in the same place for the rest of his life? His famous last words were always the same thing. The four Fs: he fucked them, he fed them, he fought with them and he fucked off when they got on his nerves.
He was sitting opposite Lil Brodie, a handsome woman with a fine brood of children and a healthy sexual appetite. He liked and respected Lil, with whom he had often had a few drinks and a little bit of bump and grind, but today he noticed that she looked a bit worse for wear.
He knew her son was home from the poke and causing a bit of a stir on the streets and Jambo was suddenly feeling a little bit nervous. Errant husbands were one thing, sons, especially young Pat Brodie, were another thing entirely. Not that he wouldn't defend himself, but he liked the boy. He was a good kid and he had not had many breaks.
'Jambo, you're not going to like what I have to tell you, but I'm pregnant.'
Jambo nodded slightly. He knew it was pointless asking her if she was sure; this was Lil and she would be more than sure before she would even think about discussing it. He was also not going to ask if it was definitely his, he had more sense than that.
Lil watched his face and felt bad for him; he was a nice bloke and he didn't deserve this really. But she knew she had to tell him anyway.
'You want it?'
He wasn't asking her anything except what did she want, and she loved him for that alone. There were no recriminations, no stepping back as if he had never been near her in his life, no stroppiness and no body language that said, as soon as you look away, I will be out the door so fast you will wonder if you had shagged an Olympic athlete.
He was calm and interested in what she wanted to do about the situation. She was grateful for that much at least.
'I ain't got a lot of choice, mate, I'm Catholic. If it's there then what can I do?'
She shrugged then and he smiled at her. He liked Lil, he really liked her attitude to life and love. She was calm about it and she was not demanding anything from him.
'What do you want from me?'
It was a fair question, she thought. A nice question really. She knew Jambo was a man who cherished his single state and she understood why he felt that way. She was of a similar disposition herself these days. A baby was the last thing she wanted, or needed, but the child was created now and there was nothing to do except love it as best she could.
If she disposed of it, Lil knew she would never know another happy day. Not that there had been many of them over the last few years. But in Lil's mind, a child didn't ask to be born and she had no right to remove it from her body just because it wasn't convenient. For all her lifestyle, the Catholic part of her kicked in with her hormones.
'Can I be honest, Jambo?'
He nodded slowly, but he was wary enough, she sensed that much.
'I'm only telling you because I thought you had a right to know. I don't want anything from you, mate, not really. No undying love, no special treatment, no money even. I just want you to do me a favour, one thing, and that's all I will ask of you.'
'What's that then?'
Lil grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, and Jambo knew she was a woman on a mission and that if he had any sense, he would make sure she got what she was asking for.
'Just give the child the time of day, not every minute of your time, I know you can't do that. But just for once in my life, I want one of my kids to feel that someone other than their mother cares for them. That is all I want. No more than that, Jambo. Just a visit occasionally to let them see your face and know who you are.'
Jambo nodded and he felt so sad for her then. He knew how hard Lil's life had been, knew how much her family meant to her and had even guessed how much she resented them at times as well. That was real life, though most people wouldn't admit that. Women were so unlucky; they were left in charge of a human being, sometimes a crowd of human beings, and they had to be seen as doing the best they could. They had to make sure that all these people were taken care of in every way.
No one ever allowed for them to be tired out, to feel abandoned or just be plain pissed off with what had befallen them and just because they had allowed a man to get too close. Because they had just followed their natural inclinations and produced, as nature had intended them to. Then, they were left on their own, and the man leaving them was in the same condition he had arrived in, physically and mentally. The women they left behind though were now the grand owners of stretch marks and a screaming baby and their lives would never be the same again.