The Family (22 page)

Chapter Sixty-Seven

    Christine was stoned out of her head after drinking three glasses of Chardonnay and taking two more of her pills. As Phillip walked back into the house, she was waiting expectantly in the hallway for him, her hand to her throat in a gesture of naked fear. Philly was hanging back behind her.

    Phillip smiled at her widely. 'Sorted.' He pushed his son towards the stairs. 'You get yourself up there and I'll deal with you in a minute.'

    Christine saw the boy run up the stairs as if he had the hounds of hell on his heels.

    'He's back to school tomorrow, Chris. I gave the priest a few home truths, and we came to an understanding of sorts.'

    Christine followed him into the kitchen, her face registering her shock at his words. 'What kind of home truths? You didn't threaten the priest, Phil!'

    Phillip laughed at her incredulity. 'I simply pointed out the downside of all this becoming public knowledge. Do you know what, Christine? All the money we've weighed out to that old cunt, and he looks down at us like we crawled from under a stone. Well, he had a fucking shock today. Philly's back at school tomorrow, and Halpern's boy's out and, incidentally, I have good reason to evict the slippery fucker from the Hall now. Turns out it was his boy doing the dealing - our little fella just got caught up in the crossfire. So, all in all, it was quite a productive day. Oh, there's one last thing. I'm going to be cancelling the direct debit for the school fees, because they are both going there for nix from now on.'

    Christine couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had really thought her son would be expelled and ostracised; that Phil had sorted it like this made her want to kiss him. He had saved her boy from having to change schools, make new friends, and she was so grateful to her husband at this moment, she almost loved him again.

    'Oh, Phillip, I was so worried, something like this follows a kid all their lives!'

    He grinned at her and held out his arms, and she ran into them happily, without the usual hesitation, and he kissed the top of her head. 'I said I'd sort it, Chris, and I have. Now get your glad rags on. I still have to talk to that little fucker, and remind him of the error of his ways before we go out.'

    'We'll celebrate, eh?'

    He nodded, smiling, and went upstairs to talk to his son.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

    Philly couldn't believe his luck; he had got a complete swerve and all because he had given his father enough ammunition to keep old man Halpern in his pocket for the rest of his days.

    As his father came into his bedroom they smiled at each other in complete accord and, winking, Phillip said quietly, 'Your mum thinks you're grounded, and we have to play along with that, OK? But now we've got a few minutes I want you to tell me how much you were shifting, and how much you were making a month.'

    Philly took a deep breath before saying carefully, 'Well, it depended really, Dad. You see, we mostly sold five-pound bags and, as it was home grown, it was bright green and plentiful. Laughing gear, the boys called it. Anyway, I averaged about sixty bags a month, and I was getting it for two quid a pop. The Es were a different matter, they varied on price by how good they were. But I suppose on a good month I could rake in about four hundred quid.'

    'What did you do with the money you collected?'

    Philly bit on his lip before replying truthfully, 'You're standing on it. That floorboard's loose, it's underneath the floor.'

    Phillip watched as his son knelt down and lifted the floorboard up. The whole space underneath was packed out with money.

    'How much is down there?'

    'Six grand.'

    Phillip could hear the pride in his son's voice and, pulling him into a gentle headlock, he held him tightly as he said laughingly, 'You are a chip off the old block, no doubt about it. But remember what I told you in the car - you could have got us all hammered for this. You never shit on your own doorstep. But this wisdom will come in time. Until then, keep your head down, your nose clean, and apply yourself to your schoolwork. OK?'

    Philly nodded happily 'What about the money?'

    Phillip shrugged. 'What about it? You earned it, it's yours. You wanted a trail bike, now you can get one.'

    'Really? Can I really?'

    'Give it a few months. You'll have to act all contrite for a while and then, when I deem it's the right time, I'll talk your mother round for you, OK? But I want
good
grades, and
good
reports, or the deal's off.'

    Philly shrugged, the living image of his father, as he said cheerfully, 'Fair enough.'

    Phillip left him a little while later, proud of his son's obvious business acumen, and thrilled that he had such a son to teach and develop in the years to come.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

    'Christine looks amazing, really great, Phil.'

    Breda was genuinely happy that her sister-in-law was enjoying herself so much out on the town tonight. She worried about her at times - when she looked so down and depressed it was tragic to see her. But tonight she looked like the girl she had been years ago, before Jamsie and all that trouble.

    Phillip gave her a small breakdown of the day's events, and he grinned in delight at how obviously impressed she was with Philly's little enterprise.

    'The little fucker! Six grand! He's a chip off the old block, all right. I take it Christine thinks he's been punished big time?'

    Phillip tapped his nose sagely. 'Well, you know my Chris, the less she knows about the real world the better.'

    'Does Declan know?'

    He nodded happily 'He thinks we should bring Philly into the firm when he's a bit older. I tell you, when you find out the whole story you'll fucking freak, girl.'

    Breda was loving this Phillip, this was the Phillip everyone responded to. He was upbeat, charming, and she chose that moment to give him more good news. 'I got both the arcades for under four hundred grand, Phil, we signed this afternoon.'

    Phillip looked at her with undisguised glee. 'Oh, Breda, you have made a happy man even happier.'

    She preened at the praise, this was what she lived for. Phillip's opinion of her was more important than anything.

    'I'll tell you something else, girl, you're looking good and all - almost as good as my Christine!'

    Breda laughed. 'She is a looker, Phil, there's no doubt about that, mate.'

    Phillip was pleased that Breda wasn't jealous of Christine's obvious charms. He watched his wife as she chatted to Declan, and saw the looks she got from the men around her. She had class did his Christine, real class. In her diamonds and expensive black dress, she looked like she'd stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. She dressed like a real lady, her high-heeled Jimmy Choos made her long legs look shapelier. He had never wanted her more than at this moment.

    'We've done well, us lot, and we're just starting out really. Once I've finished we'll have the whole south coast. No one saw the potential here like I did. Look at this place, Breda, it's fucking buzzing.'

    The pride in his voice was evident, and she understood how important achieving was to him. Unlike the others, she felt the same in many respects. She craved the respect money and position could guarantee. It was like Phillip said, a lot of the old-money people were wasters, they never understood the economics of how you made your fortune, all they understood was how to spend it. Like Breda, Phillip wanted his kids to understand the actual earn, so they would appreciate how hard money was to come by in the first place. It was about making your mark, your own personal mark on the world, and that was something Declan, Breda and Phillip were determined to do. Jamsie was like their father, he would take whatever fell into his lap - he had no ambition, therefore he was worthless to them all in more ways than one.

    'It's a triumph, Phil. This place was dying on its feet until you took it over, and now it's
the
place to be seen. It's been heaving like this every night.'

    Phillip nodded, he was more than happy with his new investment. Kissing his sister's cheek, he pushed through the crowded bar to his wife's side and then, taking her arm gently, he led her through to the VIP bar, stopping to say hello here and there to friends and acquaintances. All were hailing him like the new king of the turf, and that is exactly how he saw himself. This was his manor now, he owned it, and if he didn't own it, he had a stake in it.

    Christine was having a great time, and that pleased him no end; seeing her happy made it all worthwhile. When she sparkled like this there was no one in the world like her. No one could touch her. This was the girl who had ensnared him all those years ago. This was his Christine at her finest.

    In the relative quietness of the VIP bar, he kissed her on the lips. 'So what do you think, Chris? Like it?'

    He looked around him, at the newly refurbished club, and she smiled genuinely. 'It's beautiful, Phil, really fantastic. Well done.'

    She meant every word she said. For the first time in years she was seeing things from Phillip's perspective, seeing his world as it related to him. The new pills were making her old fears seem groundless somehow, and her life suddenly looked much better than she had believed it to be. Tonight she felt strong enough to venture out of her protective shell. 'Let's have a toast shall we, Phillip? To us, and a new start.'

    He went behind the bar, and opened a bottle of Cristal champagne and, pouring two glasses, he handed one to her saying, 'I only keep this in for the footballers, fucking wasters the lot of them. But they give the place a certain cachet, so I can swallow them when I have to. Now, for that toast. To us, and to our boys, our sons, both of them blinding kids with great futures ahead of them, just like their parents.'

    Christine looked into her husband's deep blue eyes and said sincerely, 'I'll drink to that.'

    She was happier than she had been in years; she knew it was a combination of the drink, the meds, and the relief at her boy being saved from expulsion. But just for a few hours she wanted her Phillip again, to feel the love of him, and remember why she had fallen for him all those years ago. If it made him happy to see her so happy, then all the better. At the end of the day she realised that whatever he was, he put them all first. When the boys had needed him he had come through for them, and that proved to her that whatever he might be, he loved them in his own way. She had been drowning in her fear of him for so many years that she hadn't seen what was staring her in the face - the fact that he would do anything for his family. She was stuck with him no matter what, so why not make the best of it? Why not do what countless other women had done for generations - see his good points, play up his kindnesses. Appreciate what she
did
have; a lovely home, two fantastic sons, and a man who loved her to death. All of that had to count for something? Surely?

    Tonight she felt a desperate need to be happy, just happy for a little while. And she felt there was a chance that she might finally achieve just that. God Himself knew she had prayed for this for years, it was about time He remembered she existed.

    'I love you, Phil.'

    Phillip felt like all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once and, kissing her deeply on the lips, he said huskily, 'You don't know just how much those words mean to me, Chris.'

    But she did, she knew exactly how much they meant to him.

    They were interrupted by the bar staff coming through to open up and, entwined in each other's arms, they greeted the guests who were lucky enough to get into the VIP bar and, therefore, an audience with Phillip Murphy. This was his seafront now, and everyone knew it. Christine stood beside him and accepted the praise and the respect he had worked so hard for and which, for him, was the icing on the cake. He was happier than he had ever been and, for once, it showed.

Chapter Seventy

    'Are you all right, Christine?'

    Christine laughed, a loud, brash laugh. 'Bloody hell, Mum, what is it with you? I'm either too depressed or too happy. Can't you just enjoy being here with us and stop questioning me?'

    Eileen was concerned, her daughter was not right. She hadn't been right for years, of course, but she was almost manic today, like a film on fast-forward.

    Christine continued, 'I've got these new meds, and they make me feel a bit odd, but they are helping me, Mum, really helping me. So don't spoil it all by having a big court case about it in me own kitchen.'

    She was talking in riddles, but Eileen thought it better not to mention that. 'All right, keep your hair on. I just worry about you, darling, you are me daughter, after all.',

    Eileen was grieved as usual, it was always about
her
, she was a two-faced, vindictive old bag. Christine felt the urge to smack her mother right in the face. But she resisted, she knew it would cause too much trouble. It was easier to listen to her, and wait patiently until she had talked herself out and then, finally, went home. Christine resented the way Eileen always came into her house and, without saying a word, made her feel inadequate, made her feel as if she was failing everyone because she didn't have the same strength her mother had to face everyday life. She knew Eileen looked down on her, looked down on her lifestyle, even though Phillip had made sure that her parents were doing really well. They were coining it in with the four shops, as her mother remarked to anyone within earshot. Yet she knew that this woman, who professed to love her, also saw her as a failure of sorts. She felt her disapproval like a physical blow and yet as Phillip added to the house and the land, she saw the naked envy on her mother's face that her daughter had gained so much from her liaison with Phillip Murphy. She was convinced her mother had prayed for them to crash and burn.

    'Do you want a glass of wine, Mum?'

    'Bit early, even for you, Christine.'

    'Well, as Phil always says, if I want it, I should have it. Unlike you, Mother, Phil knows how to enjoy his wife
and
his life.' She was laughing, she felt that she was being clever, witty even.

    Eileen wondered how long before this child of hers cracked up; she was like a fart in a colander, flitting here there and everywhere and going absolutely nowhere. You could almost feel the charge coming off of her. All her movements were jerky, off-kilter, and her eyes were too bright, burning in her face like hot coals. It wasn't natural and it was frightening to see her like this.

    'Should you drink on those meds, Chris?'

    Christine rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. 'Will you fucking give it a rest, Mother! I like a few drinks sometimes, there's no law against it, is there? Fuck knows I'm entitled to a bit of relaxation, surely…'

    Eileen swallowed down her usual waspish retort and said instead, as pleasantly as possible, 'Go on then. Just a small one, mind, I'm driving.'

    She knew it wasn't worth saying any more, and she could see she was distressing the girl, so she changed the subject. 'The new club's been in all the papers, I bet Phillip is well made-up.'

    Christine smiled happily. 'Oh, Mum, it's really fantastic, really upmarket. We were there the other evening. Honestly, it was the best night I've had out in years.'

    Eileen could hear the pleasure in her daughter's voice, and was torn between sorrow and relief, because it was a long time since she had seen her daughter so animated. Even if she was manic, at least it was better than when she was desperately sad and almost monosyllabic. Sometimes the girl looked so sad it would break your heart and, as much as her daughter could irritate her, she was still her daughter and, in her own way, she loved her.

    'I'm glad you're going out again. You're a lovely-looking girl, and you have a great lifestyle, it'll do you the world of good to get out there and have a bit of a boogie!'

    Christine grinned then. 'No one says "boogie" any more, Mum!'

    'I do!'

    Eileen took the glass of wine and sipped it cheerfully; maybe she was worrying too much, at least the girl was chatting, trying to be a part of life. Surely that was a step in the right direction? She knew she got on her daughter's nerves; Christine always seemed to think she was criticising her and, at times, she knew she was doing just that. But she genuinely wanted to help her - it was hard seeing your child drowning in her own sorrow and not being able to do anything about it. Not know how to make them better. Sometimes Christine frightened her, especially when the depression was dragging her down, and she didn't get dressed for days on end, or just sat staring at the walls. She hoped these new tablets did the trick; Christine was too young and too beautiful to be plagued like she was.

    As Christine downed her wine in record time and poured herself another large glass, Eileen made a conscious effort to bite her tongue. Everyone seemed to drink wine like water these days - half the soap operas on TV had piss-heads who practically lived in the pub, and every drama you watched had people drinking like it was going out of fashion, so maybe she worried about it too much. But, mixed with the pills the doctor prescribed, she was concerned that Christine might be doing herself or her body untold damage.

    Sighing gently, she sipped at her drink and listened to her daughter as she talked excitedly about anything and everything that popped into her head, barely pausing for the frequent gulps of wine and completely unaware of how odd her behaviour seemed to those around her. Even the boys couldn't wait to leave her presence, and that alone spoke volumes. Christine was like an accident waiting to happen, and it was just a case of
when
it would happen, because Eileen knew her daughter couldn't carry on like this for much longer.