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'I don't wanna go, right?'

'Well you're going!'

Eileen stood up and grabbing the bedclothes she yanked them off her sister roughly. Kathleen sat up in the bed and attempted to pull the bedclothes back over her. She was almost having a tug of war with her sister and then Eileen noticed that Kathleen had seen herself in the dressing-table mirror. She dropped the bedding and stared at herself. Eileen watched her sister for a few seconds, wondering what she would do next. Her eyes were hooded and she peered at herself as if she had never seen herself before.

Then she leant forward and, dragging the covers back up, she turned on her side. With her back to her sister she pulled the covers over her shoulders again.

Took, Kath, there's something wrong with you and I don't know how to help you. I love you as my sister and I want to see you get back to normal…'

Kathleen didn't answer her. The quiet in the room was heavy with unanswered questions.

'Tell me what is wrong with you. I'm your sister and if you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?'

Eileen's voice was full of the desperation her sister's condition caused inside her. She was frightened that this depression that was now a part of Kathleen's life and the fear of going out in the daylight was going to happen to her. They were twins and she was terrified that she was going to turn into her sister. No one seemed to care and everyone pretended it wasn't as bad as it really was.

'Please, Kath, talk to me…'

Kathleen leapt up, grabbed her sister around the throat and screamed into her face. 'Will you fuck off? Just leave me alone and fuck off! On and on and on… It's like listening to a cracked record. We look alike and that's it, Eileen, we ain't got anything else in common. Now leave me alone before I fucking really hurt you…'

Kathleen pushed her sister away then and climbing back into the bed she pulled the covers over her once more and said quietly, 'Close the door behind you.'

Eileen walked from the room just as Lil was coming up the stairs.

'What's all the noise?'

Eileen burst into tears then. 'She went mad, Mum. What is wrong with her? I was just trying to help her, that's all…' Eileen pushed herself into her mother's bosom.

Lil hugged her tightly. Kissing her hair, she said sadly, 'She is a strange girl but I don't know what to do with her. The doctor came in the other week and he said it's depression, as you know. She takes the Valium and she sleeps. I don't know what else we can do for her.'

'She needs help, Mum, more than she is getting…'

The bedroom door opened then and Kathleen stood in front of them. Her nightdress was stained with tea and Ribena and her feet were filthy, her toenails rimmed with dirt.

'What, Eileen, you want them to put me in the nut house, is that it?'

'What are you on about; I never said…'

'I ain't going nowhere. You try and put me away anywhere and I'll kill meself. I swear to God, I'll kill meself.'

Lil went to her then and, shaking her head slowly, she said, 'What are you on about? No one has said anything about putting you anywhere. But you ain't right, Kath, and if you can't see that then maybe you do need to go away somewhere.'

Kathleen laughed at her words. 'You make me die, all of you! Murdering lunatics all over the house and 'I'm the one with a problem…'

Eileen looked at her sister and then she slowly walked down the stairs. 'Fuck her, Mum. Let her do what she wants.'

At the bottom, she said loudly, 'By the way, sis, if you ever get around to smelling yourself, you know there's a lock on the bathroom door, don't you?'

'She's got a point, Kathy, you look like a paraffin lamp.'

Lil's voice was jocular, she was trying to lighten the situation as best she could.

Kathleen slammed her bedroom door and Eileen slammed the living-room door and Lil stood on the landing wondering what daughter she should go to first.

Donny Barker was a man of few words. He was also a man who, if upset, was liable to open a skull, a cheek or, in extreme cases, a stomach.

He was a violent lunatic and he had a reputation for tucking people up. North London was a no-go area for anyone he had a grudge against. He liked football, fighting, curry and spending the day with his mum, in that order. He had no time for women and no time for men either. Donny was an anomaly to everyone around him; the only person he was even remotely nice to was his mum. She was a small, bird-like woman called Vera with a loud voice and a smoker's cough. Donny worshipped the ground she walked on and the feeling was mutual.

As he sat in his mum's terraced house, he looked at the photographs around him, at the doilies on the table and the crocheted chairbacks and sighed with contentment. Lance Brodie was a weirdo. He had heard that he was and, knowing the same thing was said about him behind his back, he decided he almost liked him. He had also liked his approach and he was impressed with his nervous demeanour. He could easily work with him; he was sure of that much. Unlike his workforce he didn't look at him as if he was odd. He had been thinking about Lance's proposition for a long time and he decided he had no choice but to go along with it all. For the time being at least.

'Who the hell is this?' Scanlon's voice was trembling with fear, as was his whole body.

It was surreal. The whole of the evening seemed so unreal, it was like a bad dream except that he knew he wasn't going to wake up at any time in the near future. In fact, he knew this was going to be a new life.

'What's with asking all these questions? Who are you, the police?'

Everyone laughed.

Scanlon felt his bowels loosening and he knew that the old saying was true, you could literally shit yourself.

'What do you want from me?'

Patrick sipped his brandy and waved the other men from the room. Then he motioned Scanlon over to the table he was sitting at and said coldly, 'Sit down and shut the fuck up. Just listen. You ain't paid to ask questions, you are paid to make sure I ain't asked any questions.'

Scanlon sat down with relief; he wasn't sure how long his legs would hold him up.

He was slumped in the chair and Patrick liked seeing this man brought low; he had heard a lot about him over the years. He was a bully who made a big song and dance about everything. He had been known to brag about his criminal connections. Well, after tonight he would have him in his back pocket for always.

Bent filth could get away with a lot. Like any system, the filth tended to look after their own. That stood to reason; Pat knew it wouldn't do the public much good if they knew the extent of the corruption around them. He also knew that disposing of a body was something even a bent law couldn't walk away from, hence the evening's entertainment.

'His name's Jasper and he was asking for what he got, that's all you need to know. A long time ago he tucked up someone very close to my father and because of that he met a very untimely end. That happens a lot to people who annoy me.'

Scanlon didn't answer him; he wasn't sure what to say.

'He has been tortured, stabbed and shot. The shooting was just for a laugh, nothing more. He was well dead by then but I like the American approach, overkill, they have the right idea.'

Scanlon was listening, but he was not taking in anything of relevance.

'I want you to take the body away with my blokes and I want you to dispose of it.'

Scanlon knew he was expected to answer and he didn't know how to. What could he say to such an outrageous suggestion?

'A jam sandwich can drive anywhere, right? So I want you to get one round the back of the club by midnight; I know you use them for your own benefit. They call them Scanlon's cab service, don't they? So I figured that you might call a cab and dispose of Jasper, the wandering Rastafarian, as he was known. Then, once you earn your crust, that is to get shot of him, me and you can feel we have a rapport of sorts.'