'Fucking Los Angeles, I still can't believe it! I bet that was your idea?'
Finoula nodded and laughed. 'Your mum asked me where we would really like to go, and I said I wanted to shop on Rodeo Drive, eat at The Grove, and see the Hollywood sign. Plus, I thought you might like a few days in Vegas!'
He popped the champagne with a flourish. 'I'd go to a caravan in fucking Norfolk if you were there in the nude! But I can cope with LA and Vegas. At least there will be a bit of currant bun anyway.'
She took the champagne flute and said dreamily, 'What a day, Philly! It was so wonderful, I've never been so happy.'
He could hear the tears in her voice, and he felt a rush of pure love wash over him. 'Come on, Finny, don't start crying now. I want me leg over!'
She couldn't help laughing at him, and his choice of words; he was funny was her Philly. She knew how lucky she was. 'There'll be none of that, mate, not now I'm a respectable married woman!'
It was an old East End joke; both had heard it a hundred times before but they still laughed together.
'What about the farmhouse and all! My dad did us proud today. He thinks the world of you, Finny. I think your dad's a bit of a hero to him, you know. They get on so well, don't they?'
She nodded. Her father had been taken aback by the scale of the day's activities, but he was pleased for her, she knew that. Jack had known he couldn't compete with Phillip Murphy, and he had stepped back and let the man have his way, well, let Finoula have her way really. Her and Christine's. Christine had such exquisite taste – you only had to look at her own home to see that, and between them they had arranged everything exactly how they wanted it. The only blight on the day was remembering what Christine had warned her about. She shivered, as if a goose had walked over her grave as the old dears would have described it.
Philly noticed and said in a concerned voice, 'You all right, Finny? You better not be coming down with anything.'
She smiled, but the ghost of fear was still on her shoulder. 'I'm fine, Philly, just tired out with the excitement of the day.'
But a cloud had passed over her happiness, and she felt an inexplicable urge to pick up the suitcases and run away, away from everything, not just for a few weeks, but for ever. It wasn't an option though, and she consoled herself with the fact they had so much to look forward to – a new home, a new life, and a baby at some point in the future.
Philly grabbed her none too gently, and pulled her into his arms on the king-size bed, spilling the champagne everywhere.
'Come here, you silly mare! Let's consummate this marriage, it's all I've been thinking about all day. I hope now it's legal it will still be full of the usual excitements!'
As she lay with him, she forced the worries from her mind, telling herself it was just wedding-night nerves. After all, it was a big step they had taken, and in a Catholic church as well. This was for life, and that was a very big commitment. For both of them.
Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Six
Christine waited until her husband was asleep, then slipped from the bed and crept down to the kitchen. She was worried, really worried, and her first thought was to get herself a drink. So she opened a bottle of vodka and, sitting at the kitchen table, poured herself a large glass, added a couple of ice cubes, and tossed it back in two gulps. Then she poured another immediately, waiting for the trembling to stop. Lighting a cigarette, she pulled on it deeply, blowing the smoke out noisily. Then getting up she raced through to the downstairs bathroom. Standing on the toilet seat, she placed her hand behind the cistern and, frowning, she realised there was no little plastic pack of pills hidden there. Phillip had probably had the place swept by the drugs squad.
Back in the kitchen, she took another deep draught of the vodka. But it was no good, she still felt unable to think about the problem in hand. It was all too outrageous, but she knew in her heart it was the truth.
Timmy, her younger son, and the person Philly had chosen as his best man, was behind his shooting. He had wanted his brother dead, of that she was sure.
She felt the sickness assail her once more. What the fuck had she bred? Was it Phillip's fucked-up DNA, or was it because she had been drunk most of their lives and they had been left to drag themselves up? Was it because Timmy felt, as the younger son, he wasn't getting what he felt he was entitled to? Or was it because, and this was her real belief, he really was his father's son? Like Phillip, he removed any obstacle that might be in his way. Looking back he had been that way as a kid, but she hadn't realised it till now. Quiet little Timmy, who you overlooked because, unlike Philly, he didn't demand, or shout about his feelings. He just waited, and waited, and then took what he wanted at the appropriate time. He was the good boy, the good son. Philly had been seen as the little bastard, but he'd just been like other boys his age. Foolish, selfish, but not really bad. Jesus Christ, how had her life come to this? She felt the useless tears of futility and anger, and wondered what she was to do with this knowledge now she had it. She thought of Philly, on his honeymoon and unaware that the person he thought was his best friend, as well as his brother, was behind his attempted murder.
Who could she tell? That was the thing. Phillip was questionable, she knew that. He would probably just weigh up the pros and cons and decide which boy he was going to keep! Declan? He might be worth approaching. Once it would have been Breda, but she would not tell her any of this. Something had happened between her and Phillip, and he treated her like some kind of Mafia don these days. Asking for her opinion on everything, and giving her the most lucrative Legends to run for him. She was overseeing the boys and they answered directly to her. So Breda wouldn't want to rock any boats – even her Porrick was now on the proper payroll, running a new business Breda had set up putting fruit machines in pubs and cafes. No, Breda was too close to Phillip at the moment, it would have to be Declan. But she knew Declan wouldn't be able to keep something like this to himself. He would see it as something Phillip needed to know.
She felt a wave of nausea once again, the worry inside her gnawing at her, making her feel like she had years ago when her nerves had started. It was the same hollowness in her stomach, the terror of each day and what it might bring down on them all. But even that was nothing compared to this latest trouble. Her own son, her baby, wanted to take out his own brother. She was too frightened to ever say any of this out loud.
Suppose she was wrong? Suppose she had got the wrong end of the stick? Maybe it was like what Phillip said when he ranted about the judicial system, he was always going on about circumstantial evidence. How people might look guilty, but that didn't mean they were. He could go on for hours about the subject, and frequently did. She was pretty sure that wasn't the case here, but she still grabbed on to the thought. So, with Declan and Breda out of the running there was no one else she could trust enough to tell. Even her Philly would think she was just off her chump again – she knew how crazy it would sound.
It was weird, her intuition was eating her up. Phillip mentioning Planter's name was fate, and she believed in all that – she believed things were meant to happen. Like Philly surviving the gunshot wound – he had survived because he had just stepped forward to kiss Finoula, and that had stopped the blast from hitting its mark. It had to be a death sentence Timmy ordered for Philly – there was no reason whatsoever for him to just get his brother shot, that had no value to him or anyone else. She had not been married to Phillip Murphy all this time without picking up some bloody tips on how their world worked.
Philly was away for ten days, but he had to be back to sort out the clubs for the spring openings. Phillip always had them professionally cleaned and any necessary repairs made; it was important that the places looked new and smart, as befitted the clientele. Philly and Timmy would be working flat out on that, as well as everything else that made up their job descriptions. So she had ten days to talk to Timmy, and carefully gather as much information as she could. She only hoped she had the guts to go through with her plan. When Timmy discovered she had sussed him out would she be next on his list? There was so much to think about, and so much to worry about, not least the fact that her child was capable of killing his brother. A brother who was just starting out on his married life, and who had no idea what had really happened to him. The worst thing was, she knew that if Timmy had tried to kill her husband, his father, she wouldn't have lifted a finger to stop him. But then, she assumed Phillip would be next on Timmy's list.