By the time Freddie had been on the out she had been consumed with the habit, and even his presence had not been enough to make her stop.
Now she looked into this grimy and scuffed mirror and she saw what Freddie saw. Terry Baker had proved to her the truth of her life, that she was a nothing, a no one and that she was only a joke to people.
He had destroyed her in front of nearly everyone she knew, and it didn't matter that Dicky boy had stepped in to defend her. The damage had already been done.
She cut another line quickly and neatly. She needed total oblivion tonight and she was determined to achieve it. If she was going to walk out there again and face everyone she needed all the Dutch courage she could get. She might be a piss head, she might be a prescription drug queen, but the great thing about it all was, with a few drinks inside her she could laugh about it, in a way she'd never manage if she was straight and sober.
Now that was a state of mind she hoped she never experienced again, because it was only the drink that kept her from jumping off the nearest bridge she could find. Drink problem, well fucking whoopee. For all their whispers, they were actually confusing her with someone who cared.
'Can we go home, Dad, please?'
Freddie shook his head. They were on the way to Paul and Liselle's. He had just received a call to say they were experiencing a soupçon of trouble from a local bully boy. His Roxanna had rung him, before it all got out of hand. She said that the usual faces were in there, but she felt he should come and have a look see. Freddie was annoyed now. Paul and Liselle were good people and he was not about to have them disturbed by what amounted to the equivalent of a fucking lager lout. A few of the local fucking ice creams had tried to get an in, and they had been sorely disappointed. So an event like this was not unheard of, though he would not normally deal with it personally. Any other time he would have made a call, he would have delegated the job out to a lesser person on the payroll.
He was good at that, delegating, but he had decided to sort this lot out for himself, to show willing, he supposed. The pub was Ozzy's and so he had to make sure the punters' nights were untouched by any kind of aggravation. They expected to drink in a trouble-free environment. He was also going there personally because he needed an excuse to delay his decision about his boy.
Without looking at his son, he said, 'I have to sort out a bit of business. Now just be quiet and let me concentrate on me driving, eh?'
Little Freddie was for the first time in his life unsure of what he was going to do. He had no remorse in him, he was incapable of it, but he was frightened of his father because this time he might actually put him away. The social worker had been harking on about it for ages, and he knew that one word from his dad and he was guaranteed a lock-up somewhere, without any chance of kiddie parole. It was his mother who was keeping the wolf from his door, and he made a point of keeping her sweet.
This man, though, his father, who walked in and out of his life at a whim, finally had him well and truly sussed out. For a moment there, Little Freddie had been convinced he was off to the land of the psychologists. Now, though, he had seen a little chink of light, and he was going to milk that for all it was worth.
He was learning the hard way that he had to keep on the right side of everyone, especially his father, and his days of saying and doing what he wanted were long gone. He had to keep a low profile, do what was expected and wait until he could safely and securely be himself to do what he wanted, when he wanted. And he was shrewd enough to know that even then he would need the protection of his family around him.
Since he could first understand his surroundings, he had known on some level that he was different. He had no real feelings for anything or anyone. He had thought his father was like him, but now he was not so sure.
Jimmy Junior had been a severe irritation for a long time, and he had been determined to rid himself of the boy's constant presence. He was disappointed in his father because he was only trying to emulate him. He had not wanted him to find out what he had done, but he had not expected his dad of all people to make such a song and dance about it.
Now it was all about damage limitation, as governments said when they fucked up big time. And he was more than aware that he had fucked up what had been a very relaxed and very protected lifestyle.
Damage limitation was definitely the order of the day.
Freddie walked into the bar and the first thing he saw was his girls surrounding their mother in a protective cocoon. After the revelation about his boy, he was pleased that they were such good girls, even poor old Kimberley was a diamond, problems or no problems. He saw how protective they were of Jackie and he was heartened to see it. She was going to need them in the future, he would lay his last pound on that.
As soon as he'd entered the pub he'd sensed that there was something drastically amiss, and he was right. Paul motioned with his head and he followed the direction of the man's eyes. What he saw put the seal on what had already been a strange few days.
Terry Baker, his one-time friend and the archenemy, was lying in a pool of blood by the back doors.
He had been dragged there by Paul and Dicky until such time as someone decided to take him to the hospital on their way home. Some of the regulars were debating on whether they should just dump him at the train station, always a good place to dump people, but seeing Freddie Jackson in the doorway they were saved from any more pointless conversation about it. He would sort it out, so they could get back to the serious business of the night, drinking and talking.
Mug bunnying was the order of the day, coke was dispensed liberally, and the tragedy that had befallen Jimmy was as good a topic of conversation as any.
Taking a drink from Liselle, Freddie walked over to his family and for the first time in years he was not scanning the room for strange. He noticed that his wife looked crestfallen and guessed that whatever had happened with Terry Baker had involved her in some way.
Looking at the girls he was reminded of how attractive they actually were. Even his Kimberley, who had been a big girl when she was young, now had a trim figure and a sweet, heart-shaped face like the other two.
He was told what had occurred quietly and succinctly, and he amazed everyone once more by shaking Dicky's hand, thanking him, and not bothering to go over and finish the job young Dicky had started. Pat had received nothing more than a curt nod and this everyone knew must have been annoying for her. Freddie didn't even look at her after that, he had other things on his mind-Terry was unconscious now, and that was how he would stay until he was delivered back into the outside world. 'What a ponce, eh? You all right, Jack, you OK?' Jackie looked at this husband of hers in speechless shock. He was genuinely concerned. Young Dicky was also amazed and he could see that Rox was thrilled by the reception he had received from her father.
Freddie had just finished his drink when young Freddie knocked on the doors to be admitted, and there was nothing his father could do to stop him. Jackie, full of her own self-pity and still smarting from the insults she had received, hugged her son to her tightly. For once in his life, he was quite happy to let her.