Christine didn't answer her, instead she sipped at her coffee and chain-smoked Marlboro Lights.
Veronica went about the business of the house, and wondered if Phillip realised that his own wife thought he had murdered Ricky Thomas. She could see it in her eyes, could see it in her demeanour. Had almost heard the accusation from her lips. The trouble was, she thought exactly the same thing but, unlike this girl here, she knew better than to dwell on it all. She had learned very early on that knowledge wasn't power – that was a crock of shit. Knowledge was actually added aggravation, and there were some things you were better off never knowing the truth about, for sure.
She was aware that her Phillip wasn't an angel, but she also knew he wasn't wired like other people and, because of that, she overlooked a lot where he was concerned. Blood was thicker than water, and family was all that really mattered in the end. She didn't ask questions, because she didn't want to know the answers, and if this poor young woman could only learn to live by that credo she would be a much happier person. Veronica would lie for her kids until the day she died, and she would do it happily. That was what mothers were for.
Christine would find that out for herself one day, because those two lads she had produced were their father's sons all right. They would be a big part of this family in years to come. Maybe then this silly girl would open her eyes and see the world as it really was, count her blessings, and thank God her sons were safe inside a family that loved them, and would protect them no matter what.
Chapter Seventy-Five
'Everyone knows it was Phillip, but no one is going to accuse him, are they?' Ted Booth was worried to death about his daughter and cursed the day she had captured the interest of Phillip Murphy. 'Doesn't it bother you that our daughter is tied to a murderer? Her nerves are shot, and she is like a fucking wraith, she can't weigh more than a few stone, and you don't seem bothered about it at all.'
Eileen sighed heavily, sometimes this man was like a broken record. 'All right then, I dare you, I dare you, to go round Phillip Murphy's house and bring her home. Go on! If you're that worried about her, go and get her. Go and save her from her husband.' She laughed then, a nasty vindictive laugh. 'Didn't think so. Now, this is the last time I am going to discuss this, Ted, and I mean it. She made her bed years ago when she fought us to marry him. Now she is stuck there and, like you, I hate seeing what it's doing to her, but what the fuck can we do about it? Phillip ain't the type of person you could discuss it with, is he? He won't allow us to take her away from him, he actually loves her in his own way. That's half the fucking trouble, if he would dump her she'd be halfway home. But the worse she gets, the more he seems determined to keep her beside him. Until he outs her, there is nothing we can do without bringing his wrath down on our own heads, and none of us want that, do we? Well, do we?!' She was screaming the last words now, her anger and frustration overwhelming her. 'He gives us a good living, and he gives her a good life. Until he allows her to leave him, there is nothing anyone can do. So either grow a spine and go and get her, or shut up about it.'
Ted Booth knew she spoke the truth, and that hurt him more than anything. Because he knew he would never have the guts to go and front up Phillip Murphy – the man terrified him. As he would any normal person. But Ted was scared for his daughter; he could see her drowning in her own mind and it was killing him.
Eileen felt a moment's sympathy for her husband; she understood exactly how he felt, but she also knew it was useless trying to do anything about it. She took what they were given, and she was grateful for it, and she made sure Phillip Murphy knew that.
'Look, Ted, I feel the same as you but, in reality, what can we do? He ain't a person you can cross. This latest should remind you of exactly what we are dealing with here. So just let it go, eh?'
He nodded sadly.
'Like my old mum always said, Ted, be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it. We fought Christine every step of the way with him, and she married him regardless. Now there's no more we can do for her. I wish it was different, but it ain't. He loves the bones of that girl, and she's got his kids, and she's got his name. What we want doesn't matter any more. She's tied to him until one of them dies, because he won't ever let her go without a fight.'
Teddy knew the truth of his wife's words, and hoped God might be good to them and see that maniac Murphy murdered sooner rather than later. It was his constant prayer, and he begged that it would be answered one day.
Chapter Seventy-Six
'Are you sure you can do this, Chris?'
Christine nodded silently, aware that they were all amazed to see her up and dressed, ready for the funeral. Breda went to her sister-in-law and put her arm around her shoulder. 'You look lovely, Christine. Deandra will appreciate you paying your respects.'
Phillip and Declan exchanged glances, and Breda nodded her head almost imperceptibly to let them know she would babysit her sister-in-law.
When the boys walked into the kitchen sad-faced and dressed in their black suits Christine felt her eyes fill with tears. 'Are you sure they should go today, Phil?'
Phillip nodded and said firmly, 'Ricky was a part of their lives, and now they are growing up they need to learn to respect people who have passed away. He thought the world of our lads, and it's fitting they should be there to see him sent on his last journey.'
He sounded so reasonable, so normal. Christine couldn't find an argument against it.
'You all right, Mum?'
This from Timmy, he was the most kind-hearted of her boys. Philly she knew resented her because she wasn't what he termed 'normal', like his friends' mothers. She had heard him telling Timmy he was ashamed of her, and that people at school said mental illness ran in families. His words had cut her to the quick, but she didn't let on she knew what he thought about her. She hoped that one day her sons would understand why she acted as she did.
Timmy came over and gave her a little hug, which touched her. Phillip had to force his elder son to do the same, and that hurt her more than he would ever know. Every day Philly was growing closer to his father, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Both the boys adored him, and with her being like she was, she knew they both depended on him far too much. It was a vicious circle, and she couldn't tell where it started, let alone where it would all finish.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Deandra was in bits. The funeral had been huge, with people coming from all over the country and even Europe to pay their respects. The funeral car had driven slowly along the seafront at Southend, and the traders had lined the streets, hats in their hands, suited and booted, as they saw off one of their own. It had been very emotional and fitting. Every Face imaginable had turned up for Ricky; the newspapers were loving it, as were the film crews. It was a big event, and even the Mayor had turned out in full regalia to say goodbye to a man who had been well liked, and whose bloody murder had sent shock waves through the tightknit community.
Christine watched as Phillip was feted by everyone. Even Bantry waited in line like a schoolboy to see the man he had given his first job. He had shaken his hand and told him all he wanted to hear, because that was the only way to show the proper respect Phillip Murphy demanded. She watched Breda too as she stood beside her brothers, and accepted all the handshakes as her right.
The funeral proved to Christine just how far her husband had come. He had escorted Deandra into the church and passed her over to Ricky's older daughters, all nice-looking girls, all feeling the loss of their father acutely. They knew that the man who had killed their father was talking to them and condoling them, and they were unable to do anything about it. She watched her two sons being chaffed by all; they were enjoying themselves even though they were at a funeral. Christine knew then that she had lost them, and she wondered at how much pain a person could take before they just lay down and died from it. She saw her mother and father, standing with Veronica and Phillip Senior. She knew her mother was probably loving every minute of it, and that her father was only there for appearances' sake. Phillip would want him there, would want them to look united as a family. She saw all the people who worked for the Murphys, all in black looking suitably sad. She knew that her husband employed literally hundreds of people now, and that they depended on him for their mortgages, their car payments, the bread they ate, and the lives they lived. He was bigger than he had ever dreamed, and he was more or less untouchable now. She saw it all, and she accepted it all. Phillip had won, as she had always known he would, and there was nothing she could do about it.