Chapter Twenty-Six
Eileen Booth sat at the table and watched her daughter warily. She knew that having slammed the phone down on her earlier in the day, Christine might well decide to continue the argument in front of her in-laws.
It was the first time Eileen Booth had ever felt nervous of her daughter, in fact she couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous about anything in her life before. She was determined to make her peace with Christine, she was not about to let anything ruin the life she had become so fond of.
Eileen felt almost ashamed at how grateful Veronica had been at her coming round. Veronica had been touched because she had truly believed Eileen was coming over to show her support at this awful time when, in reality, she had not even thought about how Declan's going away might affect anyone other than herself. She was only there because her daughter had finally had enough of her, and she was desperate to try and build some kind of bridge between them in case she and Ted were cut out entirely from the Murphys' orbit. Even Phillip seemed to think she was here to show her solidarity, and that told her that Christine had kept their argument to herself. She was unsure what she was supposed to say, but she was not going to leave until her daughter was once more back onside. Ted might not feel the need to be here, but she did; someone had to look out for their future earnings.
Other than James, who had wolfed down his dinner as usual, the food Veronica had prepared had pretty much gone uneaten. It sat on the plates, gradually drying out as they all discussed the day's events. Phillip was putting a good spin on it, and no one was brave or foolish enough to contradict him. Breda was keeping a low profile tonight, and Veronica Murphy was secretly glad about that much anyway. She wasn't sure she could have coped with any kind of conflict this night. And God Himself knew, her Breda wasn't exactly renowned for her tact. She was heart-sorry for Phillip, he was obviously as distraught as she was at the turn of events. Getting up, she went to the cupboard above the sink and she took out a bottle of Paddy. Opening it with a flourish, she said loudly, 'Get the glasses out. All this moping around isn't going to get our Declan home.'
Christine watched as her mother-in-law tried to make the evening almost bearable, and was impressed at how the woman suddenly lifted the atmosphere until it was almost jovial.
'Before we know it our Declan will be back amongst us, regaling us with stories about his exploits inside.'
It was as if Veronica had given them all permission to stop worrying. Christine knew that this was how things were dealt with in this family, you accepted the bad and you made a point of not letting it get the better of you.
Phillip Murphy Senior looked at his wife and smiled for the first time in days. 'Pour me a shot, love, it's not the end of the world. He's lucky he hasn't been captured before this. Fuck me, he's lucky it was only a seven! Three sawn-off shotguns and an assault rifle in his boot! They could've thrown away the fucking keys.'
Breda chipped in then with, 'Not to forget the conspiracy to murder charge that was miraculously dropped at the last minute. Fucking Filth couldn't pin the tail on a kiddie's donkey with a miner's lamp and a detailed map!'
Everyone was laughing now, joking about it, the whisky was flowing and the tales of Declan and his exploits over the years were coming thick and fast. The evening had taken on a party mood. Declan's brothers and sister were all pleased to celebrate him and their obvious love for him. They could pretend he was with them now, a part of them once more. Now that the shock of his sentence had worn off they were able to see that in actuality he had got off lightly. He would do his time, and be back among them soon enough.
Christine was pleased at the change in the atmosphere, and she felt herself relaxing; this was what had made her want to be a part of the Murphys, this love that they had for each other. This loyalty that they all had in abundance. The way they could be fighting one moment, and in the next lined up together against the outside world.
Eileen Booth was frankly bewildered. How could they laugh and joke about something so awful? How could they not see that they should be ashamed of their son's predicament? It was as if they thought what had happened was acceptable. Normal, even. But, then again, she supposed it was to people like them.
Philly ran through the kitchen then, pretending to shoot his little brother. He screamed out at the top of his voice, 'Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!'
Jamsie shouted out, 'He's a fucking Murphy all right!'
As Eileen watched her only daughter laugh along with them, she knew then that she had lost Christine to this family, and she would never get her back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Christine was aware that whatever her husband was up to was serious. He had closeted himself in the office block he had created for himself in what had originally been outhouses and stables, and now there were men she'd never seen before visiting him at regular intervals. Normally he had the same people come to the house, and even they didn't come often enough for her to really notice their presence. The last few days though, the drive was like a council car park, and men were coming and going at all hours of the day and night.
It made her feel nervous, but she knew this was all part of Phillip's world, and that she had to stop worrying about it. She felt it was her youth that let her down; she didn't understand the economics of her husband's lifestyle, and she was annoyed with herself for worrying about what he might be up to.
As she made a pot of coffee she heard the back door open and she smiled as her husband came into the warmth of the kitchen. The seriousness of his expression vanished as he saw her and she felt the pleasure his presence always brought her.
'They're going home, darling, you'll have peace and quiet in a minute.'
She smiled at his words. He knew she hated the constant noise of the cars on the gravel drive. It was loud, and it often woke the kids up as it could go on into the night.
'That grub smells handsome! You're really getting to be a good little cook – even me mother said that you're a natural and she don't like anyone else cooking for her lot.'
Christine almost beamed with pride at his words; if Veronica had actually said that, then it was high praise indeed. 'I try, but I've a long way to go yet!'
She knew she was doing well, she liked cooking these days, enjoyed the simplicity of it. The chopping, the peeling – she liked the combination of manual labour and the unknown. She was forever trying out her own recipes, new combinations of herbs and oils. As they had an orchard and plenty of land, she was learning about growing her own vegetables, and had even planted a small herb garden. The gardener Phillip had employed had been more than happy to explain the intricacies to her. She was surprised at how much she enjoyed it. And the boys just loved being out in the dirt trying to help her dig and sow.
Phillip laughed, then, looking into her eyes, he said seriously, 'I got rid of everyone for a reason, Chris. I've got a couple of blokes coming to the house – they're Old Bill, and I want to see them in the front room here, not in the offices. Is that OK with you?'
She smiled happily, deliberately overlooking the serious tone of his voice. "Course. You don't need to ask my permission.'
He always looked too big for the kitchen, too tall and too wide. Though it was a large room, it had a low ceiling, and that made him seem huge in the confined space. Today he looked almost sinister in the late afternoon twilight. She knew he was gently warning her about something, and that he expected her to understand and comply with whatever he wanted to do.
'They're here on the quiet, Chris, they are going to tell me who served up my Declan. You can't ever let on you saw them here, or spoke to them, to anyone. Do you understand that? Not even to your mum, or my mum, not to anyone. 'Specially not Breda.'