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by Martina Cole

  ‘Not long till me party.’ Pat Junior’s voice was proud and filled with longing for the day to finally arrive.

  Billy Boot, Pat’s long-time friend and Lance’s arch-enemy, was almost as excited as he was at the thought of the party. This was the party to end all parties as far as he was concerned and he was thrilled that Pat was going to be the lucky recipient of such a wondrous event. Everyone within earshot was straining to hear the conversation and all those invited had been bragging about it for ages, with the girls discussing their outfits at every opportunity. Lance kicked a football that had rolled near him back to the boys who were playing with it. He was good at sports and he kicked it with all his considerable strength, knowing that it would slam into one of the younger kids who were waiting patiently for its return.

  He was spot on and the ball hit a seven-year-old lad on the side of his head. He was a hardy perennial though, who rubbed his ear furiously, forced away the tears that were filling his eyes and carried on with the game, even though his face was crumpling by the second with pain and cold.

  ‘I bet that hurt him.’ Lance was laughing at the boy’s predicament.

  ‘Course it hurt him. You meant it to. It’s freezing today so that must have really stung.’ Lance shrugged as if he had no idea what Billy was talking about before saying loudly, ‘You’re right, it is cold, ain’t it? Hope my old coat is warm enough for you, Bootsie.’

  The boys were in the school playground in their usual place by the school gates. The weather was icy cold, and their coats were buttoned up tightly against it. Patrick knew that they were better dressed than any of the others and he accepted that, appreciated it. He also understood why his mother passed their old clothes on to other kids in the school. It was her way of helping people out and it was accepted in their world.

  Unlike Lance, he had never felt the urge to point that fact out. Now he could feel the heat of Billy’s humiliation as if it was happening to himself.

  Lance was sneering at Billy, taunting him as he always did and Billy Boot was not going to put up with much more of it. Lance had never understood when enough was enough; he always had to push everything and everyone to the extreme. He spent his whole life causing upset and hurting people without a thought for their feelings or their circumstances. They had both been to Billy’s house and Pat knew that Lance had seen how hard up they were. Billy had six younger brothers and three older sisters and a father who was always in the pub. He battered Billy and his brothers regularly and, without a second’s thought, Billy’s sisters were also beaten, but generally only on a Friday or Saturday night when he came home from the pub looking for his wife. Even though he knew he wouldn’t find his wife, and knowing exactly what she was up to, he would smack his daughters around instead.

  Everyone knew, including her husband, that Billy’s mother moonlighted weekends around King’s Cross. She had to, someone had to pay the bills. Billy’s father would come home drunk, kick up a stink and then rob her of whatever money she had. She would put a few bob in her bag and when he had taken that she would have a bath and tell the girls that, as always, the bulk of her earnings were with Lil Diamond. Patrick had been married to Lil for about a year when he heard one of the neighbours, a hard old bird who had buried her husband and three of her children during the Blitz, telling one of her cronies, ‘You know who that is, don’t you? Lil Diamond’s husband.’ He had been amused by the fact that in the Irish community women were always known by their maiden names.

  It was Lil’s reputation as a Brodie wife and a respectable woman that kept Billy’s father from demanding all his wife’s money from her.

  Though Billy’s mother and her extracurricular activities were never talked about openly, everyone knew about them; the teachers, the police who came when she was being battered and even the little kids around and about. But because she was also a great friend of Pat’s and Lance’s mother, no one said a word about it to her face. It was a strange set up. You could whore in the streets in front of your home, as long as you were doing it for your kids and, even more importantly, your kids had to look as if you were flogging your arse for their benefit. If the kids were still running round with their arses hanging out of their trousers, and you were seen to be doing all right yourself, then, and only then, were you treated like an outcast. So, if you had half a brain you sorted the kids out. Feeding and clothing your children was paramount to these women; all they were and all they did was for their families. It was the most important thing you could ever do.

  Those who had a husband who provided were revered. If your old man had gone on the trot, or was a useless ponce, you did the best you could; robbed him while he slept off the drink on pay night or, like the abandoned women, you moonlighted. Some of the women who were alone for a while eventually acquired lodgers, and these lodgers were treated with respect and would act the part for years. It was all about how things looked to the neighbours, not about how they actually were.

  If your kids were taken away, you were finished. Go on the bash by all means; no one thought the worse of you for that. As no one signed on, the bash was considered almost respectable, whereas going on the Social was considered outrageous. Once you went to the Social Security you invited the government into your whole life.

  And if, God forbid, you let your kids go into care, which, since the sixties, had become everyone’s biggest fear, you were out. You were dragged out of your home by your hair, battered, spat on and left with no option but to do a runner. Now there was a new breed arriving in the flats and houses: young women with babies and no husband in the frame at all. Girls who lived off the Social and had no shame, like it was their right. The dole was supposed to be an interim measure till you got another job but now it seemed, with the seventies, it was a fucking lifestyle! It shocked and annoyed the women who had never claimed a bean even when they were on their uppers. Now, by all accounts, girls were getting pregnant just to procure for themselves council flats and a few quid off the State. These young hussies were shameless about it, and the older women were starting to be nervous because more than a few of these so-called unmarried mothers were daughters and nieces of people they knew.

  The sixties were over, the seventies were more than halfway through, and these women who were scandalised were only young, yet most looked older than their husbands. It was a new age for them and, as they ran one woman out, another one arrived with a child and no wedding ring. They saw these girls have a child without a thought for the fellow involved and, in their hearts, they admired them for their independence and their guts, even while they blasted them for living off the taxpayers’ money. Still, as long as they looked after their children, they were tolerated. If they didn’t, they were taken to task like any of the others.

  Billy and his siblings were more than aware of what their mother had to do when she went out of a weekend. Billy could not remember when or how he had found out about it, but he had seemed to know all his life. He hated his father and he loved his mother, although he loathed what she had to do to keep them clean, fed and with a roof over their heads.

  Billy knew that his mother was respected for the way she kept her family and that Lil was great mates with her. This was how Billy came by Lance’s old winter coat and other bits of his wardrobe.

  Billy was sick of having to wear other people’s clothes and sick of having to live with a drunken father and a whoring mother. One of his sisters was pregnant so she was going to be another one of those unmarried mothers, and he knew that once that was common knowledge, Lance would slaughter him for it.

  ‘You can stick the coat up your arse . . .’

  Billy’s voice was heavy with shame and embarrassment. He forced the words out between his teeth and he felt so fucking full of hatred for himself and the whole world that Lance could feel it coming off him in waves. He was frightened of Billy for the first time ever; he knew that he was capable of hurting him this time.

  Billy was clenching his fists ready to have a fight. He wante
d a fight, he wanted to crack Lance’s head open for every slight he had endured from him and for every fucking man his mum had serviced. He wanted to draw blood for every time his dad had beaten him or his brothers because he had pissed up all his money.

  ‘Come on then, Lance. Let’s have a straightener, shall we?’

  Billy could feel a great black hate that was finally bubbling up to the surface. He could kill a man now, let alone a boy.

  Pat Junior, as always, stepped in and tried to keep the peace.

  ‘Fuck off, Lance. That was out of order.’ He pushed his brother out of harm’s way.

  Lance grinned. ‘It was a joke, Pat, that’s all. And he is wearing me coat. So what. I don’t give a toss; he’s welcome to it.’

  Billy was still white-faced and stiff with anger. He knew that Lance had meant for his words to be heard by all the other kids standing nearby and he also knew that he had achieved his objective. They were being stared at by the majority of their classmates. Billy knew that most of them were in the same boat as him; money was tight in their households too, but it was the principle of it. He knew Lance had wanted to show him up and he had achieved that. Billy wanted to rip Lance apart and he knew he was more than capable of doing just that, but he didn’t want to fall out with Patrick because they were best mates. Lance, as usual, took advantage of that and now Billy was feeling the full force of Lance’s beaming smile and his convincing act of being contrite. The black hate was gone now.

  ‘You are going to have to develop a sense of humour at some point, Bill.’

  Lance was smiling again, that even-toothed, amiable smile that made him look like an innocent. Billy didn’t answer him or even acknowledge the smile. Instead, he turned his back on him and spoke to Pat, but the words were for Lance’s benefit and they all knew that.

  ‘Your party is going to be the biggest event of the year for us lot, everyone is talking about it and you deserve it. The whole fucking thing is amazing. Is it true you’ve got a proper disco?’

  He knew it was true. He knew more about the arrangements than Lance; Patrick Junior had discussed it with him at length. And Pat understood Billy’s desire to push Lance out of their little circle. He did it himself at times but it was hard because Lance, as much as he was a pain, was still his brother.

  Over the last few months, Patrick Junior had experienced a growth spurt and now he was taller and broader than his younger sibling. He knew that this annoyed Lance who had always used his size to his advantage at every opportunity. They were both big for their ages and Pat was growing at what his mother jokingly called an alarming rate. He was head and shoulders above his classmates and he was also finally towering over Lance. This had done wonders for his self-respect as he knew his father was proud of his increasing size. He had always been able to batter Lance when it came to a fight but there had recently been a real shifting of positions between them. Lance had always looked the stronger of the two but now that was not so evident. Their father had even pointed it out to them both. He had told Lance that he was big-boned like his paternal grandfather whereas his older brother had the same solid build as himself.

  Pat Junior was his father’s double all right; even he could see that. He was proud to be so like the man he loved and adored and he was determined to be just like him in every way possible when he grew up.

  ‘It’s a party, a kids’ party and you lot act like it’s some kind of fucking big event.’ Lance’s voice was hard and the jealousy he was feeling was threatening to erupt. Pat Junior knew that Lance was finding it difficult to accept the fact that he was having a big party for his tenth birthday. Lance had always been jealous by nature and Patrick, who was untroubled by envy or greed, was unsure how to react to it most of the time. He knew that Lance would be having his own party when his tenth birthday came around but, like everything else, Lance wanted his to be first. Lance only saw Pat’s party as something to top when his turn finally came. He was already planning his own party and thinking of ways to make sure it was ten times better than the party his brother was going to have.

  Lance didn’t understand that Pat’s party would be merrier because all the people going actually liked his brother.

  Lance didn’t make friends easily, and Patrick Junior always looked out for him although he knew that Lance resented that.

  Pat Junior understood how he felt to an extent; all his friends with younger brothers were in the same boat. Being the youngest was hard enough but Pat Junior knew that Lance was aware that his mother preferred him and that had to be hard to live with. Even he knew that his mum preferred him to Lance although she tried not to differentiate between them. But he also knew that Lance was the apple of Nanny Annie’s eye and that she loved him enough for everyone.

  But Lance was unhappy a lot of the time and Pat Junior was sorry about that. He wished he could make things better for him. Nanny Annie might be all over him like a rash but it was his mother poor Lance needed, and Pat Junior wished he could make that happen. His mum loved him, and he loved her, the twins were everyone’s babies, even Lance was mad about them. But his mum only pretended that she loved Lance and it was awful to watch because she was actually fooling no one. Least of all poor Lance, who knew that all the pretence was for his benefit.

  Billy was still waxing lyrical about the party when Father O’Donnell rang the bell that heralded the start of their school day.

  Pat Junior and Billy walked in together and Lance, as always, hung back as if walking in with them was like admitting a defeat of some kind.

  Mick Diamond was feeling rough. He was always telling people he had a cold coming on, but he didn’t. The reason he was red-nosed and feverish was because he drank too much. He looked around the flat that Annie now lived in, thanks to her daughter’s generosity, and wondered at the way life threw you a curve when you least expected it.

  That Lil could have ended up like she had still amazed him and he wished he had been a proper father to her when he had the chance. Now he was at Annie’s mercy and she still made him pay for every fucking slight or wound she felt he had inflicted on her during their marriage.

  She was still his wife though and she permitted him access to her house and her body when the fancy took her. It didn’t bother him; he could shag a fence with a few drinks inside his belly and, knowing him, he probably had at some point. He knew he had fucked some horrors in his time, drink did that to a man. Beer goggles they called it on the telly. He called them pub fucks but he never remembered until he was reminded of it by someone who had obviously not drunk as much as him. He took their word for it though, as he usually had a feeling that there might be a grain of truth somewhere. Some weren’t bad either, it was a shame that he was so drunk they never registered. He only went back to their places because they had more drink, no other reason. He would go home with Larry Grayson if he had a drink for him.

  The thought made him smile and Annie, as always, was quick to question him about it.

  ‘What you got to laugh about?’

  Mick smiled at her then.

  ‘I was just thinking about those kids, Annie. That Lance is a case, ain’t he?’ He knew how to push her buttons and he pressed them to his own advantage on a daily basis.

  ‘He is not happy about this party they are having for the boy. It’s ridiculous spending all that money on a child.’ Her voice was both disgusted and full of admiration at the same time.

  She loved telling her cronies about the arrangements, knowing that it was the talk of everyone around and about. But she was also genuinely shocked that so much money was being spent on a ten-year-old.

  Mick understood the reasoning, though he didn’t say that to Annie, of course. Lil had never had a real birthday in her life until she married Brodie. Not even a card or an acknowledgement most years. He didn’t blame himself for that; she was, after all, nothing to do with him. But now he wondered why Annie had not attempted to mark the day for her only child. He would not have allowed it if she had, but he was not
about to admit that to himself or anyone else.

  Now he guessed that Brodie, who had been dragged up himself, and Lil were making sure that their children had all the things that they hadn’t. Pat Junior’s tenth birthday was being treated like some kind of milestone in the boy’s life. Mick was going to the party though, he was determined on that. He still pretended to people that everything between him and the Brodies was hunky-dory and he knew he had to show his face there to keep up the illusion of family.

  Annie assured him that he was invited, along with her. She had cleared it with Lil by all accounts. He was interested to see what it would be like. The kids were nice enough, even he had to admit that. Especially those girls, the twins. They were as sweet as candy and, although he would never admit it, he loved the way they smiled at him on the rare occasions he saw them.

  Lil had done all right for herself, he had to give her credit where credit was due. He admired her for the way she had pulled herself up in the world and for the way she had tamed a wild man like Brodie. He remembered now that when she had started developing he had made a point of catching her in various states of undress and had felt her up a few times. Mick stopped his mind going any further, he was not going to go there today.