Timmy nodded, but the truth was, he wasn't scared at all – he was excited, exhilarated even. But not in the least bit scared. He remembered as a kid he had dreamed of being like his father, of being without fear, and it had suddenly come to him that on the day he had taken out Joey White he had discovered his true self. He wasn't even twenty yet, and he was already on the cusp of serious crime, and serious crime meant serious respect. He felt like he was living in a Martin Scorsese film. It was every young boy's dream. He knew inside himself that he was born for this. Even more so than Philly. It was his destiny, and as cheesy as he knew that sounded, he honestly believed it. Timmy was champing at the bit to get this over with. He wanted to be blooded, he wanted to know what it was like to have the power of life and death. He wanted, if he was really honest, to be his father.
Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen
Phillip was visiting his wife and, as he looked at her strained face, he felt the usual rush of what he thought of as love.
There was, even now, something about Christine. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had wanted her, and he would never not want her. Of that much he was sure. He could cheerfully take her out at times, fucking strangle her, but he knew he wouldn't, because she represented everything he had ever cared about. Even like this, in rehab, her life in tatters around her, he still felt that pull. She was like something you know you can never have, but you long for it anyway. Even when he had got her, he had never really believed it. He could remember when she had felt the same, when she had run to him as soon as he walked through the door. When they had lain together after making love, and laughed and joked. He had felt like a real person then, the way he knew people were supposed to feel. Because until her, he had never really cared for another human being, not really. He had always seen the people around him as no more than acolytes, even his brothers and sister. They were safe only as long as they were useful to him.
He knew perfectly well he wasn't normal in some respects, but he used that as a strength – it was why he was so successful. Christine had, for a time, given him the belief that he could be like other men, feel as other people felt. Now, he was determined to make her see that he had changed, that he was the man she needed and wanted. He would make her believe it, he would get her back onside.
'Do you want another cup of tea, Christine?' His voice was gentle and full of care.
She shook her head, and tried to smile at him, she knew that pleased him. 'If I drink any more tea I'll wake up one morning and find I've turned into a teabag!'
He grinned, and she saw how good-looking he still was. 'Is it hard for you, babe, not drinking?'
It was the first time he had ever directly referred to why she was there, and it threw her for a few seconds. She wondered if he was setting her up, but looking into his eyes she felt instinctively he wasn't. She shrugged. 'Not any more, Phillip. It was at first.'
He nodded, and she saw the tears that were glistening in his eyes, and she felt almost sorry for him. 'I'm sorry for what I did to you, babe. I can't excuse it all, I was a bully, and I was a fucking fool. But you hurt me at times so badly, I had no choice but to lash out. I'm not making excuses, Christine, I just want you to know how I feel about you…'
She closed her eyes and swallowed audibly before saying quickly, 'I know, Phillip, I know how you feel about me. That's the one thing I am sure of, don't you worry.'
It was the nearest she would ever get to sarcasm and they both knew it. Phillip didn't react, he knew he had to keep his temper if he was going to salvage anything from their marriage. He smiled tenderly instead. 'Well, I can't help how I feel, babe. There will only ever be one woman for me, but I won't go on about it. Did I tell you the boys are cooking for me tonight at the house?'
She was amazed at his words, and he saw her face light up. 'You're joking?'
He grinned and, after stroking her face for a second, he sat back from her, as if giving her some space. 'Truth, as true as I'm sitting here. Cooking, your handsome sons.'
'What are they cooking for you?'
He laughed then, as if bewildered. 'Fuck knows, probably beans on toast!'
Christine had relaxed a bit, and her laugh in response was genuine. Phillip was lying through his teeth, of course, but she didn't know that. The charm offensive had begun, and he was going to make her love him again. He wanted it so badly, how could it not happen? She would be in here for ages, and that would give him the time he needed to bring her round to his way of thinking. With the help of the boys, he would get her back on track. He would once again be the man she loved and, this time, he would make sure he didn't fuck that up.
Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen
'All right, Breda? Where's Declan?'
She shrugged her answer. 'I dunno, mate. He should be round somewhere, might be in one of the clubs, he's sorting out the stock today.'
Phillip nodded. 'You're looking well, Breda. How's things here? How's the boys doing, that Timmy especially.'
She sat opposite him; when Phillip came in he always took her seat behind the desk. It wasn't that he was making a point or anything, it was just where he felt he should be sitting.
'Both are good kids, emphasis on the kids, of course. But no, Phillip, they are really intelligent boys. Bit young for all this really…'
Phillip stopped himself from biting; Breda kept hammering on about their ages, and yet she had been laid down more times than a fucking medieval tankard by the time she was fifteen. So the constant reference to their youth was getting wearing. But he decided to take it as her being a good aunt, rather than because she feared they would be getting her job though he suspected that was the real reason. He could write the fucking script for the lot of them, and it annoyed him that they all thought he couldn't suss them out. There was a reason why they worked for him, and not vice fucking versa.
But, in fairness, Breda was good at her job, and that counted for a lot with Phillip Murphy. She was family and, as such, she should understand that his sons were family as well. If they had been cranially challenged like poor Porrick they wouldn't get a chance at anything decent. Phillip wasn't a fucking fool. He wouldn't shoot himself in the foot because they were his kids. If they couldn't earn they would be out. But they had nous, he had to admit that. Now what they needed was experience, and he would provide them with that as well. It's what any father would do for their kids – see they knew how to get themselves an earn.
Breda understood that she had pushed it far enough, so she said, 'Timmy will surprise us, I think. He's deep, Phillip. Still waters and all that.'
He nodded in agreement, satisfied that she had spotted the same potential in his boy that he'd seen. Timmy was going to be the driving force there, he would lay money on it. He felt magnanimous suddenly. His sister was a fucking grafter, and she would kill for him, he knew that for a fact. Smiling, he said seriously, 'Don't worry, Breda, you will always be close to me in the businesses. I have a few things to sort out, as you know, and then I'll want you beside me, you and Declan, because we'll have a lot more work to do. My boys can cut their teeth on this lot, all right?'
Breda almost cried with relief, and he was glad he had put her mind at rest. He had been going to leave her here, but she was a good girl, and she was honest, and she was family. He knew he could trust her with his life. Plus the boys adored her, and they thought the world of Porrick. Personally he thought Porrick was a shitbag, and he would love to know who the culprit was who'd fathered him. But that was a mystery to be solved on another day.