The Family

by Martina Cole

  * * *

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Ted was sad to admit that he had gone off his elder grandson, and the knowledge grieved him. The boy was a sullen, rude little oik, and that was being nice about him.

  As he watched the lad walking around the shop, he could almost feel the resentment coming off him at even having to be there. But this was one time when Ted Booth agreed with his son-in-law. Philly needed a lesson in respect and dealing with the people from this area should give him just that. These were plain-spoken people who said what they thought, and who often possessed a certain rough dignity, even though their surroundings weren't exactly conducive to the finer things in life. But they had something this boy desperately needed - the advantage of being streetwise, and that counted for a lot in this neighbourhood. Maybe seeing how other people had to live might make him appreciate just how lucky he actually was. Ted could only hope so anyway - from what he had heard the boy had been asking for this for a long time. People protected him because of Phillip's reputation, Christine especially. It seemed to him she couldn't see what the boys were really like; but then half the time she couldn't see what was in front of her face she was so out of it. No, this time he thought Phillip had done the right thing by his grandson, and he would help him sort the lad out with pleasure. Young Philly, for all his swaggering, posturing and bravado, wouldn't last ten minutes on this estate, and that was something he needed to learn, and learn fast. Philly had had it too easy, and it was making him weak and vulnerable. Phillip would not tolerate weakness of any kind in his family.

  Ted was pleased that Phillip had entrusted the boy to him; it told him that Phillip respected him in a way he had not realised before. And even though he would never like this son-in-law of his, he was willing to do the best he could for his grandson.

  'Come on, Philly, start filling those freezers. That stuff will be defrosted before you even open the bloody boxes!'

  Philly sighed heavily, but he started the job as requested. He knew his granddad had to give his father a rundown on his behaviour. It was laughable - he was nineteen and still being treated like a kid. But he also knew he had got off lightly in many respects. At least this got him away from the seafront for a while; he was still embarrassed to be seen there, and he would appreciate the chance for everything to calm down and be forgotten about before he showed his face again. He knew it was cowardly, but that was how he felt. But his granddad's-shops were the pits; all Happy Shopper teabags, old people and processed foods. The young blokes looked like armed robbers, and he was fascinated at how respectful they were to his grandfather. He wasn't a fool though, he knew it was because of his father - everyone he knew was scared of him, himself included. His dream was not to be like him, but stronger, better than him. Philly intended to show them all what he was made of, and then no one would ever be able to push him around again.

  He opened the box and started to unpack the cheap pizzas and frozen lasagnes. Growing up on a farm he had developed a healthy disgust for this kind of food, and he was glad he had not been brought up on it. Especially if the kids he saw every day were anything to go by - most were already overweight before they started school, and ate crisps and sweets as if they were staple foods instead of treats. It had certainly been an eye-opener all right.

  The door opened and Philly automatically looked over to see who it was. He was very pleasantly surprised to see a tall, slim blonde, with killer boots and a come-get-me smile swagger on to the premises.

  As she picked up a loaf of bread and a pint of milk, he rushed to the till, saying loudly, 'It's all right, Granddad, I'll see to this young lady.'

  Tiffany White looked at the young lad with the handsome face and expensive jeans and decided the day was not going to be a total wipeout after all. Smiling at one another, the two began the ritual mating dance of the young, and suddenly things were not looking so bleak for Philly Murphy. In fact, he was already looking forward to coming back to work in the morning.

  Ted Booth smiled in exasperation; he could see the attraction, but he had a feeling that this young hussy might turn out to be a bit too knowing for his grandson, not least because she was already the proud possessor of a nine-month-old daughter. But he knew it would be pointless trying to give the lad advice; after all, he'd only worked here a week and apparently he already knew everything. This was the kind of situation where only experience would be of any real use, and Ted Booth knew for a fact that Tiffany White had enough experience for the both of them; she had been at it since she was thirteen. Ted should know - he had chased her from the backyard of the shop enough times. He had a feeling this grandson of his was about to get his initiation into the real world, especially when he saw Tiffany writing her mobile number down on the back of his grandson's hand.

  He went through to the back of the shop, and allowed himself a little chuckle. She'd eat him for breakfast and spit out his balls, without even pausing for a breath. This was going to be fun to watch for a while, and he could do with a laugh.

  * * *

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  'Is everything OK, Phillip?'

  Declan had not seen Phillip like this in years, he seemed preoccupied and far too quiet for anyone's good. There was definitely something bothering him.

  Phillip shrugged, the shrug that he used when he couldn't be bothered to talk. He was chewing his thumbnail, a definite sign of aggravation.

  'Is it Christine?'

  Phillip nodded. 'She is really pulling my chain lately, and it can get a bit wearing, if you know what I mean. She's always ready to argue with me, and I don't want to fight with her. I just want her to be happy.'

  Declan could hear the exasperation his brother's voice. 'Well, look on the bright side, at least she ain't all quiet any more.'

  Phillip laughed then. 'Didn't know when I was fucking well off, did I? Do you know, I was about two inches from clumping her today, that should tell you how annoyed I was.'

  'Fucking hell, Phillip, that is serious, mate.'

  'Precisely. I think we're together too much and that is never good in any relationship that entails the opposite sex.'

  He lit a cigarette; he was smoking a lot lately and it wasn't like him. But his perfect life wasn't so perfect any more, and he was restless; he had everything he needed and yet he still didn't feel he had enough. He was unhappy in a way he had never been before, and he wondered if it was because he had gone as far as he ever could, and there was nothing left for him to achieve. It was a sobering thought. Even the other businesses, the guns and the betting were running so smoothly he barely thought about it all. Breda was good at what she did, exceptionally good in fact, and Declan took the main load off his shoulders here so really, other than the farm, he was without any real purpose. It occurred to him that he was bored. It was a concept he had never experienced before, and it intrigued him.

  'We need a new project, Declan.'

  Declan grinned. He had been expecting this for a while; he could sense that Phillip was getting restless, and he knew what that meant.

  'Such as?'

  'I don't know yet, but I'm sure I'll think of something.'

  * * *

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Sunday lunch at Veronica's was now a fortnightly event, and she loved it. As she spread out the pristine white tablecloth and polished the wine glasses, she marvelled at how far her family had come. Jamsie didn't have to jump up and leave the room any longer, though Phillip still didn't throw a word in his direction, but at least he was once more a part of the family, so that had to count for something. Even Eileen and Ted Booth seemed to enjoy themselves these days, and she knew Christine liked having her parents there, well, her father at least. She watched her husband as he half-heartedly read the News of the World. She knew he would rather be down the pub, but he couldn't go because Phillip would have something to say about that. Her Phillip knew the importance of family, and she was proud of him for that much as well as for everything else he had achieved.


  Sometimes she could cheerfully light a bonfire under that husband of hers; he was so lazy it was unbelievable. He would shite in the chair if they swapped it for a commode. Good job his kids hadn't inherited that from him, they had thankfully got all their energy from her. She was a 'doing' person, her husband on the other hand was a 'do I have to do it' type of person. Chalk and cheese, really.

  She was cooking a huge piece of pork - from her son's farm, as always - and she had to admit the smell was magnificent. Christine had planted her a few tubs of herbs years ago, and shown her how to look after them, so Veronica had them fresh all year round. It had completely revolutionised her cooking, and she enjoyed the little bit of effort needed to keep them healthy. It pleased her no end to see her herb garden flourishing.

  As she laid the table, she surveyed her kitchen and, satisfied that everything was going to plan, she poured herself out a nice cup of tea. They would be descending on her soon and she couldn't wait. She lived for the family all together, enjoying each other's company. She loved to see her kids around her table, chatting and laughing. It made it all worth it, the years of struggle to bring them up, the feeding them on fuck-all, and washing them in the same bath water. She missed those days sometimes, when her kids were small and she was their whole world. But they grew up, and they grew away, and you thanked God for the times they descended on you, and made you feel like you had done something with your life.

  Family was all you really had in the end.

  * * *

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Jamsie was happier than he had been for a long time; he had stopped feeling like his days were numbered, and started to enjoy his life a bit. He had met a girl called Linda Best, and he really liked her - the only bugbear was she had four kids, by two different fathers.

  His mother would not be too thrilled about that, but he knew that Breda liked her, or at least she said she did anyway. Breda was all right really - she had looked out for him, and he would always be grateful for that. He knew how much it took for her to defy Phillip and he also knew that she genuinely cared about him, and what happened to him. He still wondered at what had possessed him all those years ago, and he could only say it was the drugs. The drink was one thing, but the drugs were something else entirely. He knew how much Phillip hated them, and that was a point they now both agreed on anyway. His only real goal in life was for Phillip to forgive him; even though Jamsie hated his brother at times, he knew that if Phillip would only give him a chance he would more than prove himself.

  He sighed at the thought; all he had left was hope, and that saddened him. People were nice to him - he was a Murphy after all - but they didn't respect him the way they did the others. They took their lead from Phillip, as did everyone around his brother. But it would be nice to have something to look forward to in life. Breda paid him a good wedge to drive for her, but it wasn't a real earn, not a proper wage like the others got. Not enough to buy a decent house, though he did get the use of the car and, in fairness, that was a nice piece of machinery. But now he had Linda in his life, and her ready-made family, he had discovered that he wanted a bit more. Not too much, just enough to give her the things he felt she deserved. Linda got a bad press really, she was a victim of her own niceness. She believed every word said to her, and for the men she'd gone out with before him, that meant she had believed they would stand by her and take care of her. Of course, that had never happened. But he wanted to change that for her. She had given Jamsie something he had never thought he would get again, and that was pride in himself. She made him feel wanted, needed; she made him feel like a man. Not just sexually, but in all ways. She was a good mother too, her kids were nice, well spoken, polite and she made sure they ate well, were in bed at a reasonable time, and kept them spotlessly clean, as she did her little flat.

  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 t
hem 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.'