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The man's sarcasm was not lost on Lil, but she knew it was pointless arguing any longer. Shamus was out, simple as that. And this sanctimonious old bastard was getting on her nerves.

'Shamus was defending his brother too. They were taunting him about my Pat. He came home from nick this week, as you know, and they were teasing him over it. He just retaliated, that's all. The older boy should have known better than to try and interfere in his brother's dispute anyway. How the hell will that child ever learn right from wrong if his brother bails him out all the time? He needs to learn when to shut his trap and my Shamus did what any other boy would do in his shoes; he defended
his
family. But my family don't matter, do they? They don't count. Their father was murdered in front of them and no one allows for that, do they? Oh no, you only care that some shite has been bullied. Well the boy had better get used to it because his brother won't be there to protect him for ever.'

Mr Benton shook his head in utter disbelief at her words. He heard this kind of talk over and over again from parents who saw school as nothing more than a necessary evil, not a place of learning. Their idea of valuable information was not dates and facts, figures and problem-solving techniques; it was the law of the pavements. That this woman believed her son's tormentor deserved a serious beating was in itself more proof of the running battle he faced on a daily basis. Just trying to instil a modicum of decency in these children was impossible. Mr Benton sighed in annoyance. 'Well, it's all academic now, isn't it? I would appreciate it, Mrs Brodie, if you don't allow Shamus to hang around the school gates or wander into the playgrounds. He is no longer welcome here in any capacity whatsoever.'

Lil sat back in the chair and surveyed the little man opposite her, and he was little, in every way. From his puny body and his bony little hands, to his small-mindedness. He was the bane of people like her and he was too stupid to see that. He lived in a parallel universe, in a place where people talked nicely to one another and washed their cars every Saturday afternoon. A world where shirts were worn to work and carpets were vacuumed daily. A world where people like her and hers were seen as failures and beneath them; because they had to fight to exist on a daily basis and this man couldn't fight if his life depended on it. He wouldn't last five minutes on their estate and it was because of this mindset that he couldn't interest any of these children in what he had to offer them, in what he had to say.

Lil stood up then and, holding her back straight, she looked down at the man who had been the bane of her life for years.

'Mr Benton, my son will not trouble you again, you have my word on that. But let me just say this before I leave; if you had any kind of teaching ability you wouldn't be working in a shithole like this, and I ask you to think about that tonight when you are driving home to your family. Like the pupils in this school, the teachers here are on the bottom rung of their ladder as well. So remember that when you look down your nose at someone because, like I said, if you had anything going for you, this is the last place you'd want to be.'

As Lil walked from the office she felt the headache that had been troubling her all morning start to subside. Shamus was sitting on a scruffy old chair outside the headmaster's office and when he smiled at her with his usual crafty grin, she laughed weakly, 'Come on, mate, let's get you home.'

Shamus walked beside her; he was a good lad at heart and she knew that, but he was also a fighter and she knew that one day it would bring him real trouble.

'I am sorry, Mum.'

She knew he meant it, every word of it; he always did. Until the next time, of course.

Lil hoped the boys were home; she was worried about them and what they might be getting up to. Lance was bad enough but with Pat Junior now back on the streets and hungry to earn a few quid so he could give it to her with pride and feel he was taking care of his family once more, anything was possible.

She stopped at her local shop and got a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka on tick. She needed a rest from her kids but she knew she wouldn't be getting one.

'Can I have a fag, Mum?'

Lil smacked Shamus hard across his face and she knew she had hurt him by his pained expression.

'Don't push me today, boy, all right? I am on the cusp of a violent episode thanks to you and that fucking school. Why couldn't you just once, fucking once, walk away from trouble?'

She sighed in desperation. This boy would be the death of her. 'You ain't even worth arguing with, are you?'

Shamus shrugged then and she knew he was upset, but for once she didn't care.

All she wanted at this moment was a large drink and a few hours' kip, she was shattered.

Paulie Braden was pissed and, as always when he was pissed, he loved the world. Picking up his cigarettes he swept a low bow to his friends and, laughing loudly with them, he staggered out of the pub doorway. Taking a few deep breaths he pointed himself in the general direction of home and attempted the short long walk with all good intentions. As he strolled along the road he heard a car pull up beside him and, with his usual good-natured smile, he stopped and waited for the men to get out and threaten him. This was a weekly occurrence and he knew that it would be over quickly and he could get on his way. The money he owed was not that large an amount and once he got his wages he would pay a bit off the interest and keep this lot off his back for another few weeks.

But as Paulie looked at the young man who was coming towards him, he was nonplussed, this was not the usual bloke. This young fella had a cross face and a mean look in his eye.

The baseball bat hit Paulie with such force that he was knocked into the road and a car had to swerve to avoid him. The drink he had imbibed had made him unsteady on his feet and as he fell to the ground, the young man brought the bat down heavily on to his shoulders. The pain was excruciating and when the bat was brought down over and over again, he finally understood he had pushed his luck too far. When he was finally dragged to the kerb it was a few moments before he properly understood what was going to happen to him. Another young lad had now appeared and, grabbing his arm, he forced him to straighten it. Then he held it so Paulie's wrist was on the kerb and his shoulder on the Tarmac; it was when he realised what was going to happen that he finally tried to fight. The boy smiled, then rabbit-punched him quickly in the face, immediately mashing his nose, and straightened his arm out once more. The first young man brought his booted foot down on to it heavily, smashing the elbow completely. Paulie Braden was in such agony he was screaming like a trapped rat and people stood there watching the little tableau with resigned expressions on their faces. A police car cruised by, slowed down so the officers could have a decent gander and then speeded up and disappeared around the corner.

'Please, son, please. I can't take this… I ain't got the money, I swear…'

'You got the fucking money to get pissed though, ain't you, you old cunt. Well, I ain't a person who can be mugged off, see, I have what is known as a personality disorder. Straight up, it's a recognised illness. They explained that to me in clink after I bit a geezer's ear off because I thought he was taking the piss out of me. He had taken one of my bog rolls from my cell
without
my express permission so you can see my point of view, can't you? He was wiping his arse on what was essentially mine and what's mine is
mine, and I want it.'

The man stamped on Paulie's gut then; he was aware that this was well over the top considering what the man owed but he had to start off as he meant to go on. This would guarantee a lot of debts being paid in the next few days; the word would soon spread and anyone who owed Mills would be pawning their wives' wedding rings and selling their first-born sons, anything, to make sure that nothing like this happened to them.

Paulie vomited loudly, the bile and beer spraying out of his mouth then running into the gutter with his blood.

'You owed Jackie Mills two hundred quid. Well, I have bought the debt off him for a oner so you now owe me
three
hundred quid and I
want
it. Don't you dare fuck me about. If I don't get my poke I will come looking for you again and next time I will not be so reasonable…' The sentence was left unfinished, the threat had been taken on board.

He lit a cigarette slowly and, dropping the match on to the man's hair, he smiled. 'You've got three days.' Whistling happily, the young men got into the car and drove away.

Annie Diamond was washing her underwear in the sink when she heard her daughter arrive back from the school.

'How'd it go?'

Lil walked into the kitchen and sighed. 'How do you think? He's been outed, expelled.'

Annie shrugged, her thin arms were plunged into a bowl of soapy water and a cigarette was dangling from her lips. Lil took the cigarette from her mother's mouth and puffed on it deeply.

'Look on the bright side, Lil. He can get a little job, bring in a few bob.'

'I suppose so, but I wish life wasn't always so fucking hard.'

Annie didn't answer her. In the last few years they had all learnt about hardship. In fact she didn't know how Lil had coped with it all. Especially with the boys; they had changed overnight.

'Did Lenny send any money round?'

Annie nodded. 'It's on the mantle, only a oner though. He is as tight as a duck's crack, him. Even the Queen comes to the opening of his wallet.'

Lil laughed then, a laugh she didn't think she had in her. She poured herself a large vodka and she knew her mother was silently chastising her for it. But she didn't give a toss, Annie Diamond was the least of her worries at the moment. Shamus had disappeared as usual and she swore under her breath. He was a little fucker and she hoped Patrick Junior would have a word with him and sort him out, now that he was finally home. Lance just seemed to make Shamus worse, but then he was good with the girls. For all his fuckery, he was good to his sisters. Especially Kathleen. She pushed Kathy from her mind, she had enough on her plate without thinking about her and all.

'Where are the boys?'

Annie was rinsing her smalls now and her hands were numb, the water was so cold. She shrugged once more.

'They went out this morning just after you, and I ain't seen them since.'

Then she turned to her daughter and shouted at her, 'Put some orange juice with that, will you; at least pretend you ain't got a drink problem.'

Lil laughed once more.

'If this was the only problem I had, Mother, how fucking easy life would be.'

The years had not been kind to Lenny Brewster and he knew that. He looked like he felt; over the hill and short of breath. As he wheezed with laughter at his own joke, the young girl with him wished he would just crash and burn so she could go home and have a cuppa and a ham sandwich like normal people. Lenny wasn't going to let that happen though and she knew it. He wanted his money's worth and she was going to have to make sure he felt he had been more than amply compensated for his initial outlay. He was a fucking mean bastard, and not only with money, he was mean in every other way as well. He wouldn't give a bogie to a dying man, he'd sell it to him.

Still, she had managed to get a car out of him; lease-hire mind, so once he outed her it would have to go back, but it was a start anyway.

The men in the pub with him were all ready for the usual day's drinking. Lenny was a cunt but he was willing to bankroll his cronies and make a day of it.

'Jackie Mills was in earlier and he reckons he has sold all his debts on.'

Lenny opened his arms in a gesture of disinterest. 'So what. Jackie Mills couldn't fucking pull in a family allowance book without my help. It's about time he realised he wasn't up to the job any more.'

He motioned to the barman for more drinks. 'Who's he sold them to? Fucking Jimmy Brick?'

Lenny looked at his old mate, Trevor Highgate, and saw he was nervous about answering. That meant he had to deliver some bad news. It had to be bad news, otherwise they would all be putting in their ten-pence worth. Lenny stared around him at his little posse of mates and, burping loudly, he held a hand to his heavy stomach while exhaling noisily. 'My guts are fucking killing me.'

He took a few deep breaths then and, grimacing in pain, he snapped, 'Well, come on then. Spit it out for fuck sakes. Who's the lucky man who is going to be the hero of the hour collecting fucking pension books and giros?'

Lenny was annoyed. Like Jackie Mills and his fucking debts were of any interest to him.

'It seems young Pat Brodie and his brother, Lance, have bought him out, like. I expect they want to raise their game, eh?' Trevor relaxed then. He had delivered the news and Lenny had not lost that phenomenal temper of his.

'The Brodie boys? You mean he has sold out to a pair of fucking kids? Better keep an eye on your pocket money; next thing you know they'll be round your house half-inching your racing bikes.'

He was laughing then and that was all the more worrying because the men around him knew he was making a mistake if he thought the Brodie brothers were beneath his radar and of no consequence. They were big lads now and they were their father's sons.

And the fact Lenny had given their mother two more children to worry about should have told him they were not kids any more.

'Good fucking luck to them, they deserve a bit of good luck. Young Patrick is home from clink then, I take it?'

Everyone nodded, pleased he had taken the news so well. But they were all wondering why he didn't know the boy had been released. If anyone should have known, it was him, considering the circumstances.

'Bad business that. The boy was fucking well within his rights but you know what the courts are like…'

Lenny shrugged. 'I couldn't help him, he had already fucked up by hammering an Old Bill. Once that happens…'