No one acknowledged his existence any more. There were no friendly waves or the humorous shouting he had become used to. He saw people deliberately turning away from him, as if he was diseased, and in a way he was. He was now an outsider looking in and it felt worse than anything he had ever experienced before in his life.
As Dave walked into the warmth of the club, he was left with no illusions about his status in the community where he had once been a leading player.
The head girl, Lynda Marks, looked him up and down with obvious distaste before saying archly, 'I'll let him know you're here, shall I?'
Her whole demeanour told him just how far he had fallen and it was this more than anything that really hit him where it hurt.
If the hostesses felt they could talk down to you then you really were about as low as you could possibly get.
But he knew he had to take whatever was dealt him, because he had fucked up big time. It would be years before he was even accepted back into the lower echelons of the world he had come to see as his own; let alone be trusted. He had to make sure that Patrick Brodie understood that he was here today, cap in hand and with all the humility he could muster, in the hope that he could salvage at least something from this debacle. At least get a living for himself and his brothers. He needed to find out whether Dennis was alive or dead and if they at least had something left to bury or whether he had to tell his mother there were no remains to cry over, nothing tangible to grieve for. As he waited for his audience he was sweating with nerves and dry-mouthed with fear.
'Look at that pair of maggots!' Annie's voice was soft for once and, as was her wont these days, it was the sight of her twin granddaughters that was the cause of it.
'Lovely ain't they, Mum. I hope this one's a girl and all.'
Lil put her hands under her large lump and lifted it carefully; this was the biggest she had ever been before and everyone assumed she was either carrying a boy or failing that, another set of twins.
She wanted another girl though. She liked the girls and since Lance's birth, she was frightened of another son, of having another boy that she would not be able to love.
The twins were lying side by side once more and talking their own language. It was fascinating to watch them. They were like mirror images of one another and unless you knew them really well, it was difficult to tell them apart.
Her mother's obvious love for them had melted even her heart and their relationship had been easier because of that, easier than it had been for a long time. Annie was always trying to build bridges and helping her out and she appreciated that. As Lil looked around her cluttered front room, she felt the tiredness and the excitement of the new baby acutely.
She only hoped that Patrick would be around for the birth. He was always interested in how she was feeling; he thought he could suss out the sex of the child by asking her questions and feeling her belly. He was like most men when it came down to it, he had no idea what it was like to have your body taken over for nine months yet he was convinced he was an expert. She gave birth and he took the kudos. As her mother said, men were about as much use as a chocolate teapot around a pregnant woman and she had to agree that, for once, she was right.
Annie had been a godsend lately, what with the party and the twins and Patrick being on the missing list so much. Her body was rebelling against this child for some reason and she would be glad to get it out into the open and finally have a proper gander at it. Only a girl could be the cause of her uncomfortable nights, even more uncomfortable days, and the reason for her constant backache and penchant for tears. Never before had she felt so low, or so high, while carrying a child. This one, she was sure, would be special.
As Lance lifted Eileen up and carried her to bed, she smiled slightly; he was good with his sisters, especially Eileen. The weirdness she felt when she was around him had to be her fault, had to be coming from her. Lance tried his hardest to make her love him but she knew that no matter what she did to assure him that was the truth, he knew in his heart that she was pretending.
It was just on eight and the club was still almost empty except for a few of the City boys who liked a drink, a flash of stripper flesh and a quick feel before they lumbered home to their wives. When Dave was finally taken into Patrick's office he was on the verge of tears, such was his nervousness.
Patrick was sat at his desk drinking brandy: a good sign, and smoking one of his cigars: a very good sign. Patrick loved his Cuban smokes, everyone knew that, even though he only smoked them when he was in a club, never at home.
Dave smiled tremulously and saw the pity in Pat's eyes. He had fallen so far in the space of a few months and he felt it acutely, especially now that he had finally gained an appointment with the man who had not only taken out his brother, but had also been the cause of every good thing that had happened to them for many years.
Pat smiled at him sadly. 'Want a drink, Dave?'
He nodded his assent with far too much enthusiasm and with far too much relief. It was embarrassing to watch, and Dave knew it would make his humiliation even harder to bear. This was the shape of things to come and he knew he would not be able to bear it.
Patrick was heartsore at the predicament his friend had found himself in. He had always liked the kid; he didn't have half the brain or half the gumption of his older brother but he had possessed enough heat to make Pat feel he was worth giving a chance to out of respect for his dead brother, Dicky.
He had only given him an in because of his brother and he had made a bad judgement. Now he was paying for it; they were all paying for it.
As he handed the boy a drink, Jimmy Brick was ushered into the small office and young Dave went white at the sight of him. Even his lips had gone white, so shocked was he to see him.
This annoyed Patrick. Dave should have expected something like this; he was hardly going to leave the meet between these two for months or years was he? The fact that Dave had not expected it was another reason why he should have realised that the guy was a skank, a fucking waster. Dave should already have had his speech prepared and his sincere apology; should have understood the economics of their world. Instead, he was standing there like a fucking nonce.
Patrick looked at Dave and tried to convey this with a discreet shake of his head; praying that the boy finally took on board what was expected of him. He had to either fight like fuck and make a stand over his brother's death or swallow and forever be a gofer, a cunt.
Dave did nothing and Patrick was devastated, even though he had not expected anything different. The room was filled with tension and also disappointment and Jimmy's easy shrug called for the whole episode to be brought to an end.
Dave watched as Jimmy Brick was embraced by Brodie as if he was a long-lost brother. He knew then that he should have made the first move and embraced Jimmy Brick as if it was all just a silly mistake. He should have realised that Jimmy would now be the person who controlled what he earned and how much responsibility he would be allowed to take on in the future. He had fucked up once more and no one was sorrier than Patrick Brodie; he had tried to build a bridge between them but he had been too stupid to take that on board. Dave observed the solidarity these two men displayed so openly with a sad face and a slumped demeanour. He was already beaten and they didn't need to rub it in; that much was obvious to them all.
Jimmy's dead eyes were finally alive and Patrick realised that they were alive with malice. He was enjoying this little meeting and he understood that Dave was being taught a very valuable lesson and it was Jimmy's job to ram it home, hard and fast, so it would not easily be forgotten.