The Family

by Martina Cole

  It always seemed to coincide with Christine's going off her trolley, Declan had noticed. When she wasn't around, or playing up, as Phillip so nicely put it, it seemed to make him more paranoid, more determined to prove himself. When she was away it was as if he knew he had a free rein and acted accordingly - he wiped people out on a whim. Christine seemed to keep him on an even keel, if not inside the household, at least outside it. Christine's opinion of her husband was very important to him, more important than it should be really. That boat had sailed when he had shown her his true self. Because that was the start of all their problems, especially Christine's - she had never been the same since.

  Now it appeared that Phillip was determined to get the boys fully involved and, in some ways, that would be seen as natural to most people. But those boys hadn't been brought up on the estate like his generation of Murphys had. They didn't understand death, not really. The closest they had ever come to it was playing fucking Grand Theft Auto, and that wasn't the same thing at all - no matter what people thought. Killing people up close and personal took a lot of bottle, and Declan's big worry, if he was really honest, was that the boys would take to it, and that would be the finish of them.

  He lit a cigarette, and coughed harshly; he really should start on the cigars like Phillip, they were better for you.

  'Come on, Breda, let's go and get drunk.'

  She laughed as she said sarcastically, 'As Phillip always says, when in doubt, do a Christine!'

  It was the nearest they had ever got to running Phillip down, and it showed them both just how the times were changing.

  * * *

  Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

  Jonnie Piper was with two of his best men, Colin Banks and Jerome O'Grady. They had worked for him for years and, though not real players in his main games, they were both more than capable for what he needed from them this night. Plus they were dispensable - always a handy trait in this kind of scenario.

  'You've got to get to the farm and we'll walk the land, which Phillip will insist on because even he wouldn't kill me in his kitchen - no matter how much he pays Lily Law, no Filth will swallow a blatant piss-take like that. When we get to his barn, the big barn, I'll take him out, and then you take out his boys. We can leave them where they lie - let that old fucker who works for him discover them. I know Declan won't be there, he's meeting with Jimmy Mac at the arcades. Even Phillip wouldn't want his boys to be in on a kill, so he must want information from me about the euros. Either way, you make sure you're there for me, right? If there is a welcome committee, then we sort that as and when.'

  Both men nodded. They had already done their homework, and they knew exactly how they would enter the premises and leave it. It was all sorted, except for the actual kill, and that would take seconds. It was fifty large each, up front, and that was not a bad wage. Though both knew that considering it was Phillip Murphy it should be a lot higher, which was why they were secretly a bit miffed about it.

  'I want them shot in the head and then the face. This is a fucking warning now to every cunt who thinks they can fucking have me over.' This was personal, and Jonnie was angry. He laughed suddenly. 'I bet his old woman will be over the moon. According to my wife, all ain't as fucking rosy as he would have people believe.'

  Jerome O'Grady said seriously, 'I don't think she'll be too thrilled about her sons though, especially shot in the face.'

  Jonnie waved his hand at the man in a gesture of irritation, he was a fucking moron to state the obvious so he ignored him. 'Murphy needs removing, and so does his fucking progeny. Fuck them, fuck them to hell and back. But I will have the fucking last laugh.'

  'What about Declan and the sister? Won't they be looking for revenge?'

  Colin always thought things through and, nodding in his direction, Piper said nonchalantly, 'First, I have a feeling they might not be as fucking angry as they make out. Anyway, once Phillip's gone, so has their strength. Phillip is the one people respect, without him they are fuck-all.'

  'What about his mates, have you thought about them?'

  Colin was getting on his nerves now, and with thinly disguised annoyance Jonnie said quietly, 'People like Phillip Murphy don't have real mates. What is this, Colin, fucking twenty questions?'

  Colin wasn't fazed at the man's words. 'I like to get things straight in my mind, that's all. Look at every eventuality, that way you don't fuck up.'

  Jonnie calmed down at that; the man was only covering all the bases, which is exactly what he was paying him to do. 'Yeah, well there's that to it, I suppose, but I am going to enjoy telling people that I think Bantry took him out. See how Declan and that coon-shagging sister of his react to that little gem of information, shall we?'

  As Colin's mother was white and his father a Jamaican, he wasn't thrilled at Jonnie's offensive words, but he didn't say anything, not yet anyway. There was plenty of time to react when the dirty deed was over.

  O'Grady was watching the clock; they had a lot of preparation to do before the night's work, and he said as much. 'Look, Jonnie, we need to go and get ourselves in position, but don't worry, we've got your back, no matter who he might have with him, OK?'

  It was exactly what Jonnie needed to hear. He wanted all this over with so he could get back to Liverpool. Fucking southerners! All they had going for them was a milder climate - other than that the place was a shithole, full of blockheads and fucking thieves. But he felt better now it was all in place, he was even toying with just taking Murphy's knees out at first and letting him watch his boys die. Like Phillip, Jonnie Piper could be really nasty when the fancy took him, especially when he felt he was being had over. And as he was being had over, royally, it was going to stop tonight.

  * * *

  Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

  'Are you frightened, Philly?'

  Philly thought about what his brother had asked, before answering him truthfully and with passion. 'I'm shitting it. Aren't you?'

  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.

  'I want you and Declan at the farm by eleven tonight, OK?'

  He saw her eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he stopped himself from smiling at her obvious surprise.

  'Come on, Breda, you didn't think I'd leave you out of something this big, do you? This is a family celebration, darling.'

  As an afterthought he said grandly, 'Bring Jamsie and all. Fuck it - let's have a family party!'

  Breda was thrilled at the invitation and, going around the desk, she hugged him tightly. 'Thanks, Phillip.'

  He grinned happily. 'Why are you thanking me? We're family, Breda, we look out for each other, girl.'

  'Talking of family, Phillip, how's Christine?'

  He laughed then, and so did she when he said cheerfully, 'Mad as a box of frogs, but she's getting there, mate. It's the best I've seen her in years, to be honest.'

  'I'm glad, Phillip, I think the world of her, you know that.'

  He did know it; it was the truth, and truth meant a lot to him. It occurred to him that he could use Breda's relationship with Christine to help get his wife back on track. If Breda said that he had changed, mellowed, then Christine would believe her, especially if Breda actually believed it herself.

  He would play the long game; it wouldn't be the first time, and he was sure that it wouldn't be the last.

  * * *

  Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen

  Philly watched Jonnie Piper like a hawk - he was fascinated by him. That he wanted his father dead, and yet was strutting about their kitchen acting like everyone's best friend, was just outrageous.

  Philly knew he had to act like he didn't know what was going on, and he felt he was doing a pretty good job of it. Piper would be feeling secure in himself, because he'd assume that Phillip Murphy wouldn't want his sons involved in a murder. But, as his father had explained to them earlier in the evening, that was the genius of the whole plan. It didn't occur to Philly for a moment that no decent man would be dragging his boys into something so serious and so dangerous. Most hardened criminals wanted their kids to be anything but a villain. It was why you earned, to give your kids better opportunities than you had had. Any decent man who had sat in a prison cell for any length of time wouldn't want that for their kids. They would rather see them out and free, not banged up. That was the hardest thing for any parent. But Philly and Timmy took every word out of their father's mouth as gospel; they didn't yet understand that it was really only ever going to be
about him and what he wanted, never about anyone else. That was Phillip Murphy - it was how he was made.

  Philly felt he was on the cusp of greatness, and he was looking forward to the night's events. He was a bit frightened that he would let his father down in some way, but he was mostly excited about doing something so outrageous, and dangerous. He still couldn't believe his father trusted them both enough to be involved. If he needed any more proof in his father's belief in them, this was it.

  'Come on then, lads, who wants to walk the land with me?'

  It was just what Jonnie Piper had been waiting for and, picking up his large Scotch, he said jovially, 'Fuck me, Phillip, I thought you'd never ask.'

  They laughed as they walked out the back doors, and changed into Wellington boots. Phillip always kept spare sets for anyone who might be visiting, he knew better than anyone the damage dirt could do to a decent pair of shoes.

  As they began the quarter of a mile walk they were joking around, and Jonnie Piper was sorry about the boys, because they were nice lads. But needs must and all that - he couldn't leave them as witnesses and, once the dirty deed was done, he would put it out of his mind as always. This was kill or be killed, like war, and these lads were what would be known in wartime as collateral damage.