He would happily marry his Linda, and he would be proud to call her his wife. But he needed a better job and better prospects, because four kids didn't come cheap. So he was going to take the bull by the horns, and ask to speak with Phillip. His brother could only say no, and if you didn't ask then you didn't get.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Phillip was watching his family as they all sat around the table; there was no doubt about it, his mother understood the need for families to spend quality time together. Christine looked happier today than she had for ages, which was strange considering at home she was like a bear with a sore arse. But he found her spunkiness exciting. She was still a looker too, for all her boozing; her face was relatively unlined and she had a great figure. She was the only woman he had ever truly wanted, and that would never change. But now the boys were more or less grown up, she needed something to do, as did he. That was his next step, sorting out his wife, and his life.
He eyed his father, saw him leaning back in the chair, bored already by the conversation and the people around him. He was a useless ponce, but his mother wouldn't have a word said against him, and that was how it should be. He was her husband and she stood by him no matter what. It was the law of the pavement, and it worked in a funny way; it kept people together who actually had fuck-all in common. That was what marriage was all about – you kept at it, you didn't run away at the first sign of discord.
He could hear Philly talking about the people who came in the shop, and he was pleased to hear his disbelief at the abject poverty he saw around him. That would do him the world of good, seeing how the other half lived. He sat forward and looking at his son he said easily, 'That was us lot once.'
Philly looked at his father in consternation. 'What was?'
'The estate. This house is a part of all that. I couldn't get your grandmother to move away, she loves it here. But we didn't have a lot when we were small.' Phillip looked at his father then. 'No disrespect intended, Dad.'
'None taken, son. It was a different world then.'
Philly was still unsure; he couldn't imagine his father like the young blokes he saw every day with no schooling, no interest in anything. 'But you got away from it all, didn't you?' Philly thought he had said the right thing, and was shocked at his father's reply.
'Not really, it never leaves you, Philly. I had a fight every day of my life. I was already breaking bones for money at your age, and making me mark. You take a good long look around you, and you might realise just what a charmed life you really have.'
'Hear, hear.' It was Ted speaking and everyone stopped eating to look at him in amazement. He rarely said much at the dinner table. 'He's had it too easy, Phillip. You've done the right thing planting him in there, he will finally see how most people really live.'
Philly wished the old fucker would shut up but he was too shrewd to voice that opinion, of course.
'That was the idea of it, Ted. The thing is with those people, it's the old chicken and egg – what came first, poverty or debt?'
'Too right, my son.' This from Phillip Senior who loved reminiscing about the good old days and how hard they had it. He looked at his three grandsons and said loudly, 'You lot don't know you're fucking born.'
'Oh, get the violins out.' Everyone laughed at Breda's words, and it broke the tension that was falling over the table.
Changing the subject, Phillip asked, 'I think we need to start up a new enterprise, anyone got any ideas? I need a new project.'
Jamsie put his hand up like a schoolkid and, to the amazement of the whole family, Phillip looked at him and said gently, 'What, Jamsie?'
Jamsie smiled uneasily and said in a low, quivering voice, 'Car fronts, prestige cars.'
Phillip digested the words for a few moments before saying with interest, 'What, selling them, you mean?'
Jamsie nodded. 'I already buy the cars for us all, don't I? I know the people to deal with, where we can get the deals et cetera. But there is also a hidden market, especially on the seafront, and I don't mean ringing motors, that's for mugs. Terry Dedham is coining it in, he nicks cars to order for the Arab states. Rollers the fucking lot, and he ships them there himself.'
'How do you know all this, Jamsie?' Phillip was genuinely interested in what he was hearing.
'I went to school with him, didn't I? I saw a fuck-off Bentley in one of his workshops, and I asked him if he was taking on the higher-end cars, and he laughed and told me the score. I thought then it was a good scam, because everyone's a winner really. People actually approach him to nick the cars when they can't fund the finance any more. It's a good business, I've had a little investigate, like. I was going to run it by Breda. I could sort that with me eyes closed, you know me, Phil, there ain't a car been built that I can't get into within seconds. But the thing that interested me most was, there's more car fronts in Southend than anywhere else in the country. People come from all over the country to buy their motors from there, so it's a perfect front operation. You expect to see cars on a car front. If you do it properly, you can turn the cars around in less than twenty-four hours. Nicked, logged and in a container from Tilbury docks before the fucking insurance company has sent out the forms.'
No one had heard Jamsie say so much in one go in sixteen years, and the table was shrouded in a deadly hush for a few seconds after he had finished. He was so nervous he was breathing through his mouth.
Phillip digested his brother's words for a few moments, before he broke into a beatific grin, saying happily, 'What a fucking good scam, Jamsie my brother! You have just redeemed yourself in one fell swoop. What a blinding little business for us. And while I think about it, why ain't that cunt Dedham been giving me a touch? If it's on the front then it comes by me. So that will be your introduction to becoming his business partner, Jamsie.'
Declan wasn't as sure as Phillip that it would go so smoothly; he knew for a fact that Dedham dealt with a serious firm from Liverpool, and they might not be as amenable as Dedham to sharing their operation. But he wasn't going to piss on anyone's firework just yet. This was Jamsie's moment.
Phillip picked up his wine and, holding the glass up to his little brother, he said generously, 'To Jamsie. I knew there was a Murphy in there somewhere, just dying to get out.'
Jamsie was red-faced with happiness, even his ears were glowing. And Veronica was so choked at the turn of events she was nearly in tears. What she had prayed for all these years had finally come to pass. Her boys were together again at last, Jamsie was back in the family again. God love him, he had paid a heavy price. And now it was finally all over, and her family was united again.
Christine poured herself another glass of wine and, laughing, she said to Jamsie, 'Good on you, Jamsie. See if you can get me a nice little Bentley Sport, I've always fancied one of them.'
Ted Booth hated that his daughter seemed to be accepting their criminality without a thought. He knew too, as well as his Christine did, that now she had mentioned wanting the car, she would be given it by her husband. And considering the amount of alcohol she put away on a daily basis, a powerful car was not something she should be in charge of. All the same he kept his own counsel; after all, what say did he have over a husband and wife? Phillip would give her whatever she wanted just as he had always done.
Chapter Ninety
'What a turn up, eh? Jamsie having a bright idea is like MPs telling the truth – it's a great concept but you can't imagine it really happening.'