It was driller killer that kept him quiet at the moment, and the more violent the movie, the more he became engrossed. Jackie knew she should stop him from watching them, but it was the only time they got any peace. He loved the blood, and as Freddie and Jimmy were now the main people involved in video piracy, it was only natural that the boy should want the films that were so easy for them to locate.
Little Freddie thought it was funny when he watched the blood and gore, but it was as if he had no concept of pain because of them. If he had a hammer, he would hit you with it and laugh. She knew this because he had done it countless times. It was like living in a nightmare.
Pouring another glass of vodka, she sat down and wondered if Freddie was going to be back in time to go to Maggie's for their dinner. It was Easter Sunday and the whole family would be there. Maggie's was now the place where everyone got together on high days and holidays. Maggie with her dinner service and her tablecloths. Maggie the cook and the golden girl. With her top-of-the-range car and her fucking beauty salon. She really thought she was something special.
Jackie glanced at the clock and knew she would have to get going soon or she'd be late for dinner. One good thing with Maggie: at least there would be plenty of drink and grub at her house.
If Freddie didn't come quickly then she would go on her own, she was used to it these days. She had stopped expecting him, had learned to just wait and see when he arrived. It was easier for her in the long run because it meant she could have a drink in peace.
He acted as if she had some kind of problem - this from a man who was drunk and drugged every night of his life, and all day as well if he could get away with it. He had even hinted, in their more antagonistic rows, that it was her drinking that had caused their son problems. It couldn't be the fact that his father never came home and treated them all like dirt when he did, could it. He was blaming her for the way Little Freddie was, when he was a replica of himself, from the temper, to the single-mindedness and the complete and absolute disregard for his safety, or anyone else's for that matter.
To call her a drunk was one thing, but after the first visit from social services, he'd asked if she thought maybe Little Freddie had foetal alcohol syndrome? Where would he get a term like that from? It was something she had never heard about, had never even known existed. That jibe had hurt her because, deep inside, she had a terrible feeling there just might be a grain of truth in it.
She gulped at the drink. It was her anaesthetic against the world, against her family who pitied her on the one hand, and who blamed her for her problems on the other.
Little Freddie, as he was known, even though at seven he was already wearing the clothes of a ten year old, stood up and walked to his mother. 'Are we going?'
He was getting irritated. He hated being alone with her. He liked it when he was surrounded by people, when he was the centre of the universe. But even his doting sisters were getting fed up with him and his attitude, and he was finally learning to act lovable now and again to keep them interested.
He kicked his mother on her shin, and she leaped forward and slapped him hard across the side of his head. She caught his ear with her ring and he screamed loudly, 'You fucking bitch, you fucking whore.'
He started grabbing at her then, trying to pull her hair and punch her face. She put her glass down quickly and, smacking him once more across the head, she threw him away from her. 'Fuck off, you mad bastard, before I fucking knock you out.'
He lay on the floor then, screaming and swearing at her. She picked her drink up again and took a deep swallow. The tirade would soon reach a crescendo, then he would just lie there and swear at her until she hit him again. Jackie sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. He was like an animal, and she knew it was her fault.
When he had first done it they had all laughed. He had been eighteen months old and he had attacked poor old Kimberley because she had told him off, and his language had been ripe. They had all sat stunned for a few minutes and then started rolling up. The words coming out of his mouth, and his dear little face while he said them, had been so outrageous they had roared. Then the girls had told him to repeat it, because it was so funny, and it had caused them all to crack up again. Little Freddie had soon sussed out that it was an attention-getting device and before they knew it his whole speech was peppered with effing and blinding.
It had set the tone for him and now at nearly eight it was his main vocabulary. He had been ejected from two playschools because of it. Now the school was refusing to take him back again, but that was also because he attacked anyone in his radius if they did not let him do exactly what he wanted.
It had brought the social workers into their life and she could knock him out because of that alone. If that Mrs Acton mentioned her drinking one more time she would scream. Fucking social workers, if she had that mad little cunt all day and night she would have a bastard drink herself! And Jackie had told her that in those very words, enjoying the woman's shock at her turn of phrase and feeling as if she had finally scored a point.
But he was out of control, there was no doubt about that, and as the only person he was even remotely civil to was his father, he would stay that way until Freddie came home regularly and took him in hand once and for all.
Fat chance of that ever happening.
Jackie sighed and then poured the dregs from the bottle of cheap vodka into the glass. He was still swearing and calling her names, but she ignored him as best she could, just saying, 'Get your coat on, and I'll call the cab.'
Maggie had been cooking all morning, and the smells coming from her kitchen were driving everyone mad. Lena and Joseph were already there, all spruced up and filled with pride at the lovely home their youngest daughter had created around her.
She and Jimmy had moved into this place a few months earlier. According to Lena, it was a brand-new, large, detached, four-bedroom mock-Tudor mansion, with a huge garden and en-suite bathrooms. Lena never stopped going on about it to anyone who would listen. Her pride in her daughter knew no bounds.
It was a nice place, but for Jimmy and Maggie it was just another stepping stone. Unlike Freddie, Jimmy had taken Ozzy's advice and he had invested in property. It was the best thing he had ever done in his life. He bought early, waited and then they moved on again, with their tidy little profit ploughed back into a new house that was always a bigger and better place for them to live.
This was their first brand-new home, though, and as much as they loved it, they missed the character of their last place. But they had bought that for a song. A builder friend had owed Jimmy a big favour and this was his way of paying him back. They'd done it up and then sold it because it was too good an opportunity to miss.
They would have the character house once again, only bigger and better next time. This place would do for another couple of years. It had a big garden which wasn't overlooked, and they had the kitchen and bathrooms of their dreams.
Maggie looked up at Jimmy as he walked into the large kitchen to refill his father-in-law's glass.
'All right, babe?' he said.
She nodded. ''Course I am. Are Paul and Liselle here yet? I heard a car pull up.'
Jimmy walked out into the big entrance hall. A few seconds later, he saw them coming through the front door, and waved them into the kitchen.
Liselle looked around in admiration. 'This place is lovely. I wish you well in it.'
Maggie kissed her on the cheek. 'Take your coat off, mate. We're lucky with the weather, anyway.'