Veronica laughed mirthlessly. 'I wouldn't be too sure about that, Breda. I think that man just pulled up outside.'
Chapter Thirty-Three
Phillip stood outside his mother's house for a few moments to gather himself together. He knew that he was still angry enough to let his sister have it. He could really hurt her badly if he wasn't careful.
This was the first public problem he'd had to face where the family was concerned. And it didn't come more fucking public than this. All his hard work keeping them on a low profile, making them part of the inner fabric of their world quietly and unobtrusively, was gone now. Thanks to Breda they were like the local fucking bully boys. He could hear his heartbeat crashing in his chest, even though outwardly he looked perfectly calm. The evening air was welcome, he gulped it into his lungs, enjoying the darkness and the solitude for another few moments before all hell was let loose.
The worst thing was that this confrontation with his sister had been on the cards for a long while – he just hadn't thought it would be over something this serious, over something so personal. He was frustrated that he hadn't seen something like this coming; it was, in reality, typical Breda, sticking her nose in regardless of the consequences. He knew she was stupid enough to think that people knowing what she had done to her own brother, and why, could only be good for the family. That's how fucking far from reality she actually was. Breda thought they should live like some kind of gangster film; she walked the walk, talked the talk, and looked a complete prat because of it. The reason he was so successful was because he didn't feel the need to become a parody of himself He had his businesses and they were legitimate – any moody enterprises were well hidden from the public face of the family. It didn't suit him to have Jamsie and Breda tearing around like the Krays on amphetamines, it drew unwanted attention to him. It was the old guilt by association – the fact the whole neighbourhood knew didn't augur well for the future. It was simple logistics. He had sussed all that out at an early age having worked for people with a measure of decorum and sense. He had learned and learned well, that people only knew what you told them – ergo, keep your trap shut and you'll be safe.
Now he had Declan to protect, and as for Jamsie – well, he knew exactly what was going to happen there. Thanks to Breda it had all come on top a bit too soon. Breda had gone too far – how dare she take this on herself. How dare she think she could get away with this as if it was nothing! As if he would not have anything to say about her actions. Who the fuck did she think she was?
There was a large part of him that believed she needed a serious fright, to understand, finally and irrevocably, that her behaviour was totally unacceptable. She needed a kicking, a real fucking hiding to show her just how serious he was. He automatically smoothed his hair, wiped his hand over his face, and straightened his clothes. He liked to be in control but, more to the point, he liked to look it.
As he made his way into the family home he felt the atmosphere and he was glad of it. He walked into the kitchen quietly, the reassuring smells of his childhood reminding him that this was his family and, no matter how great his ire, he had to keep this as low-key as possible. The raw terror on Breda's face told him that his sister finally understood the enormity of what she had done. It was a shame the silly bitch hadn't worked all this out earlier – none of this would have been necessary. But that was by the by now, he had to sort this and then get to the hospital, try and smooth over the cracks as per usual.
His instinct was to take Breda by the scruff of her neck and throttle her. But, of course, that wasn't an option. Not at this particular moment anyway. He could feel her eyes on him, feel the arrogance mingled with fear, as she stared at him.
Veronica ran into her son's path, her arms held out as if to stop him in his tracks. 'Now come on, son, calm down, she realises she's been a fool…'
He knew that his mother was terrified for her daughter; the fact she wasn't at the hospital with her son who was lying in a coma spoke volumes. Like any mother, she was trying to protect her young no matter what they might have done. He frowned at her then and, moving her gently from his path, he addressed his father. 'Get her down the hospital, to Jamsie. He needs his mummy at a time like this. Also, it will be damage limitation when the Filth start sniffing round.' He looked at his mother and, smiling gently, he said seriously, 'And they will start sniffing, Mum, so we have to box clever, eh?'
He was stroking her down, they all knew it. His father was already out of the chair and putting his jacket on.
'Listen to me, Phil,' Veronica tried one last time. 'I've lost Declan, and Jamsie never means the half of it, you know what he's like… He's a coward. And as for her…' She flicked her head towards her daughter. 'She's sorry. She knows she did wrong.'
'Come on, Mum, get yourself off, I need to talk to Breda alone.'
'You won't… Promise me, Phil…'
He could hear the tears in his mother's voice and was shocked to realise that she actually thought he was capable of killing his sister; seemed his mother knew him better than he thought. That was certainly something he needed to think about at some point. The main thing now though was to get his mother and father out of the house, and off to the hospital as quickly as possible. Only then could he talk to his sister without hindrance, and he used the expression 'talk' very loosely.
Chapter Thirty-Four
'Mum, will you just watch the boys for me? I promise I won't be more than an hour or so.'
Eileen Booth was astounded; for her daughter to turn up out of the blue with her sons bundled up in blankets, white-faced and obviously agitated, was a first by anyone's standards.
'What's happened, Chris?' Eileen's voice was all interest now, and thick with feigned caring and worry. 'You can tell me, darling.'
Christine sighed heavily. 'Look, Mum, I don't ask you for much, do I? Now will you just take the boys for me? I don't need a fucking government White Paper on it – a simple yes or no will suffice.'
If Eileen needed any more proof this was serious then her daughter swearing provided it. 'Is this about Breda and Jamsie? Everyone's talking about it…'
Ted Booth took his daughter's arm and, walking her to the front door, he said quietly, 'Do you want me to drive you, love?'
Christine nodded gratefully and they left the house then and there, much to the chagrin of Eileen who was hoping for some first-hand gossip on what was, after all, going to be a nine-day wonder.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Breda had always understood that Phillip was dangerous, only a fool could have failed to see that over the years. What she had not seen, however, was that he was as dangerous to people inside his family as he was to those outside it. As she looked into his handsome face now she saw, not for the first time, that he had dead eyes. He looked at you, he spoke to you, he interacted with you, but it was all calculated, an act.
Phillip had never done anything he didn't want to, not even as a kid. His mum used to laugh at how stubborn he was. They had all laughed. It occurred to Breda now that it wasn't funny really. He wasn't stubborn at all. He was single-minded, selfish, and without empathy; he had no real care for other people's feelings.
'Well then, Breda, looks like it's just the two of us, eh?' He sounded calm, almost relaxed. He took a step towards her and she instinctively stepped back. Phillip grinned, and lit himself a cigarette. 'Oh, what's the matter, Breda? You tired after your energetic endeavours? By the way, Jamsie's in a coma – not that you'd notice, considering he's hardly fucking Einstein, is he? But, by all accounts, you nearly killed him, so you must be really fucking proud of yourself about that. Breda Murphy, the Ma Baker of London.'