Out of the corner of his eye he could see Paul watching him warily, knew he had his hand on the shotgun under the counter and also knew that he would shoot him without a second's thought before he would shoot Freddie Jackson.
Freddie was flavour of the month with everyone lately, even Siddy's own family. He had taken over so much it was only now, with the situation in hand, that he finally understood he had been played like a fighting fish and Freddie Jackson had reeled him in.
He picked up a pint pot by the handle and gathering all his strength he attempted to smash it into Freddie's face. Pint pots could do serious damage, they were heavy glass and they were a good weapon.
'You fat cunt.'
Freddie sounded as if he was waiting for it, which Siddy conceded he most probably was. Siddy knew when he was beaten.
Freddie had stepped back and grabbed his wrist, which held the pint pot, then, smashing Siddy's arm down on the bar, he waited until he had dropped the pot before he began systematically beating him with closed fists, and eventually finishing the beating with his feet. The pint pot was smashed over Siddy's head for good measure.
As Siddy lay on the dirty carpet he could smell beer, sick and his own blood. He should have gone home, but it was too late now. He knew he had walked into this fight without any kind of redress. Freddie had repeatedly asked him to leave and in the cold light of pain he knew he was finished.
Freddie, for his part, was euphoric. He had done what he had set out to do, he had witnesses to Siddy's utter disregard for Ozzy and his predicament, and he had the goodwill of all Ozzy's workforce, many of whom were sick and tired of Siddy and his crew.
Freddie was out of breath now he had finished his business with Siddy, and he looked at Paul and Liselle in mock distress as he was handed a double brandy. Knocking it back in one gulp, he was surprised that he suddenly felt as sober as a judge. Extreme violence could do that to you, he had found out over the years. It was as if the adrenaline cancelled out the alcohol somehow and left you feeling more alive and alert than you had ever felt before.
He kicked Siddy in the head a few more times, holding on to the bar so he could use all his considerable strength for the attack.
Siddy was groaning, and throwing up beer and vodka all over himself and the floor.
'Throw that cunt out, will ya? Fucking wanker, he is.' This from a small man in the corner who was playing cards with his brother-in-law. It was a measure of Freddie's newfound credibility that the man felt confident enough to call a Clancy a cunt in public, though they had all said that and worse in private over the years.
Paul looked into Freddie's eyes and grinned, and his grin told Freddie he had just found himself a friend for life.
Now all he had to do was find a few more, and he would be home and dry.
Jackie was frightened. Her secret was out and her father had been more than vocal about what he thought of her and her antics, as he kept referring to her drug taking. Her mother, for once, had not attempted to keep the peace and Maggie walking out had not helped the situation. That her Maggie had walked away from her had hurt. No matter what she did, Maggie had always stood beside her. Maggie idolised her and she needed that adulation, everyone else mugged her off over the way Freddie treated her, if not to her face then behind her back. Maggie was the only one who really cared about her whatever.
She loved Maggie, really loved her, but sometimes her feelings veered towards hatred as she saw her little sister enjoying her life so much. Maggie really didn't know just how lucky she was. Jimmy thought the sun shone out of her, everyone adored her. She had no idea what life was really like.
Not like Jackie did.
Her own life was so difficult that she had trouble getting out of bed some days. Everything had been on hold for so long, and she had put so much store on her husband finally coming home, that she had forgotten that the reality of Freddie was so much different to her dreams.
In her dreams he was perfect. She had seen him coming back home, grateful to her for waiting so long. She had seen him loving her like never before, seen his grateful look as he saw his children all clean and cared for, saw him telling her he loved her more than anyone else in the world. This fantasy had kept her going for all those long and lonely years. When she was rock bottom, struggling to make ends meet, or lying alone in her bed going mad for the touch of a man, that fantasy had been what had kept her alive.
But instead, he had walked back into her life a day late and then he had managed to destroy her all over again. And the worst of it was, she knew she had let him.
Would always let him.
That hurt more than anything: the knowledge that he knew he could do what he wanted and she would let him.
If she had so much as looked at another man he would have taken care of it from inside the prison, he would have seen her maimed, in pain and even seen his children motherless if it meant he kept his reputation in hand. There was no way he would have stood for the humiliation of his wife going on the trot with another man, even if he had got a twenty. She would have had to wait for him. Freddie was lucky because unlike a lot of the wives it had been what she had wanted to do.
In some ways she wished he was banged up again. When he had been away from her and away from everyone around him, it had been the only time she had felt he was wholly hers.
He had loved her with letters and visits, though even then he had still had his birds visiting him as well. As the years had gone on, she had been his only constant and that had made her happy for a while.
She had seen them off, all the girls who had loved bragging that their bloke was banged up, that he was a dangerous criminal, that he had a reputation. Of course, eventually nature will out and the girls had dropped away from him. Who could blame them? A banged-up bloke can't keep you interested without taking you out, giving you sex and buying you things, which was all his birds had wanted deep down. They had exchanged his letters for a real live man who they could actually have physical contact with. He had loved her then, because he knew she was the only female company he was going to get.
Then he had come home, and he had gone on his usual busman's holiday trumping anything with a pulse and a pair of tits. And she had swallowed it all, until now. Now she had the added humiliation of Bethany Hutchins. Bethany, who had tits like lumps of warm cement and a reputation that made her sex life a who's who of criminals from the local manor. Jackie closed her eyes tight in distress. She hated him when he did this to her, she knew he didn't care a toss about her feelings, or the fact she had to see these people on a daily basis. Up the shops, in the pub, at friends' flats and houses – this was a small community and he would fuck his way through it if she wasn't careful, like he had before he went away. Even her mates weren't off limits to him, as she had found out over the years.
Yet for all his faults, real and imagined, if he knew she was pregnant and dropping pills he would kill her. She had learned many years ago that the best form of defence with Freddie was attack. So she put her coat on and, leaving the girls alone in bed, she walked from her house.
Bethany Hutchins was about to get the shock of her little life.
Maggie was upset but she had finally accepted her boyfriend's haphazard loving. She knew he had a lot on his mind and she allowed for that. Jimmy would always love her for the way she understood his feelings without him having to explain himself over and over again.
Jimmy adored her. He needed her, but his work was taking his life over because Freddie was so unstable. Jimmy for his part had a feeling that Freddie was going to piss all over their fireworks if they weren't careful. He was off the rails, looking for fault with Clancy. In short he was after his pavement. He wanted all that Clancy had, and knowing his cousin like he did, he was going to get it whatever.