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'I hear Patrick is buying debts?'

Lil nodded. 'Doing all right and all; he's desperate to earn, as you can imagine. He met a few blokes inside who took to him, you know. Billy Farmer, all that crowd, his father's old mates. They've all helped him get an in and get close to an earn. Spider and his lad are on the firm with him now and all.'

She was threatening him and he knew it. 'Oooh, giving up work soon, eh, Lil?' The sarcasm and barely controlled anger was once more to the fore.

'That is what he is aiming for, yeah. He is like his old man, my Pat, and he had his priorities right. Les Mulligan sent him over three grand this afternoon and gave him a few debts for nix so don't worry yourself, Lenny, we will survive.'

Lil was telling him her boy had back-up, that he was not a lad any more and that she knew what he was planning. He knew he had treated her badly but unfortunately he didn't care, he treated everyone badly in the end.

The smile he turned on Lil though was full-beam and, pouring them both a drink, he said in a friendly manner, 'Tell Pat I have a place for him if he wants it.'

Lil didn't answer him, she just wondered at a man who had so much front he was actually offering her son a job in what had once been his father's business; the man had no shame. But she knew her boy was not a fool and Lance was sensible enough to let Pat plan their next moves. Now she wanted her son, her Pat, to wipe this bastard off the pavement. He had tried to break her and he had nearly succeeded. But now she was well able for him, as were her boys. Lance included.

It was a man's world all right and she was sick of it.

Chapter Twenty-One

'Lance, will you relax for five minutes and talk to me.'

The two brothers were alone and it was only now that Patrick had noticed how little they had to say to one another. It wasn't for want of trying on his side but Lance was so close-mouthed that it was almost impossible to get anything out of him. He spent most of his free time with Kathleen in his room where they sat for ages talking. He was her rock, even more so than her twin. He was always watching her, even when they were eating or watching TV He looked out for her constantly.

Pat popped open the can of beer and took a noisy swig. As he settled back into the chair he smiled at his brother and Lance, for the first time since he had arrived home, smiled back. A real smile and Patrick was reminded of how he had been when they were kids.

Since their father had died, they had become very close, all of them had felt the need to be together, to look out for each other. He and Lance had taken the twins under their wings; Eileen had gravitated to him and Kathleen to Lance. They had watched out for them and made sure they were safe.

Since he had been away, Lance had been keeping everything on the go; at least that was what he had been told. It must have been hard, he knew.

'Will you fucking sit down? I've got little Johnny White coming round in a minute.'

Lance dropped on to the seat beside him. 'It's good to have you back, mate.'

'It's good to be back. Now, tell me, has Brewster been tucking the old woman up? Because this place is definitely fucking dilapidated. I hear he ain't done fuck all but Mother won't tell me nothing. So, come on, before Johnny arrives.'

Lance looked into the eyes so like his own and yawned. 'Look, you know what Lenny's like; I've been doing a bit of ducking and diving meself for him. I made sure we were all sorted. Now, what does Johnny want?'

Pat punched his brother in the arm. It was a sharp punch, a warning punch, and they both knew it. Patrick had always been the stronger of the two; Lance had been the one with the short temper, the bully. That had all changed though. After the murder, Lance had seemed to sink into himself. The bloodbath had made Pat stronger and poor Lance weaker. His bullying days were over and he concentrated his energy on Kathleen. Like him, she had become a different child overnight. She had become quiet, withdrawn and sickly; she had been like a little doll. All big eyes and fear.

'So, come on, bruv, what's little Johnny want?'

Pat grinned, the old grin; the conspirator was once more home. 'We are going on a robbery this afternoon and Johnny is going to be the counter man. We need serious poke and it's the quickest way to earn a few quid. The post office has money delivered there at four forty-five every Friday; ready for the wages to be paid out to the local firms. There's only about thirty grand there but it'll do us nicely split three ways. It'll help us get the business on the road, see, and we can use it to buy more debts.'

Lance shrugged but he was nervous inside. Unlike Patrick, he had a worry of getting his collar felt. Pat took everything in his stride but Lance wasn't like that. He couldn't stand to be put away, he knew it would send him off his head. He couldn't bear to leave his family, especially Kathleen; he would die inside, so strong were his feelings towards them all. Even visiting Pat had caused him to hyperventilate. He had never liked being confined but he had never let that secret out to anyone; not even to his brother. Pat would have slaughtered him if he knew something like that. Lance knew the robbery would be a laugh though; everything Pat did was a laugh, that was what he had missed so much while he had been away.

'What post office are we doing?'

'Barking High Street. It's the perfect place. The old dears leave the money on the floor; they don't safe it, because they know it will be picked up quickly. They have a cuppa and they don't even bother to put it out of sight. All we need do is let little Johnny do his party piece and we can be in and out in minutes.'

Lance laughed. 'How did you find out about that so quick?'

'Mrs Doyle worked there; her son was banged up with me. I popped round there to give her a drink and she filled me in on the basics. I owed her Kevin a favour and I said I'd weigh her out with a few quid. Fucking Brewster was supposed to see her all right and he didn't give the poor old bag a fucking groat! He's doing a nine for that ponce and I can tell you now, he is not a fucking happy bunny.'

Lance laughed at his brother's cheery voice even though he knew Pat was annoyed about the situation. 'The man's a cunt and a fucking vicious cunt at that.'

'Has he really blanked the old woman?'

Lance nodded then. He realised Pat knew the score without even asking him anything.

'I've been doing a bit for him, like I said. But you know what he's like, all over you one minute and can't remember your fucking name the next.'

Pat crushed his empty lager can and threw it expertly into the bin. 'Well, I am going to remind him about Colleen and Christy.'

Pat had an edge to him now and even though he was still young there was the hardness about him that only a segregation wing can hone. He had been put in solitary twice while away and, because of his fighting skills, he had been moved into the prison system earlier than he should have been. He was proud of that, Lance knew. Men who had been away a long time respected Patrick because he could not only have a serious row but he could also do his bird with the minimum of fuss. He also had his father's creds and had made a point of ferreting out anyone who knew a story about him.

Pat was a realist; he knew that he had to get his head around his sentence and sit it out because the one thing that was guaranteed in nick was that the time passed, eventually.

'We have to get this gaff sorted for Mother and the kids and make sure she ain't got to work any more. She has grafted enough over the years and we need to sort her out soon as, don't you think?'