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  Well, perhaps she had asked for this, even she was aware of that much. She had pushed him too far, and that was not a mistake she was ever going to make again. If she survived this she would ensure she never again gave her brother reason to doubt her.

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jamsie awoke to see his brother looking down at him; the eyes were cold and the smirk was clearly evident. He was leaning over him in the bed and, to anyone outside their family, he looked genuinely concerned.

  'How are you feeling, bruv?'

  Jamsie's mouth was dry, and his heart was crashing in his ears, he was hoping he was imagining this. He looked around to see if Phillip had a knife or box cutter on him, something that could do the most damage in the quietest way. Phillip seemed to read his mind and he laughed softly. Pulling up a chair he sat down easily, his long legs crossed neatly and his arms lying carelessly along the sides of the upholstered chair. He looked for all the world like a man without a care. He grinned. 'She gave you a serious old battering, didn't she?'

  Jamsie watched his brother warily, he knew that anything could happen when Phillip was like this, and anything often did.

  'Cat got your tongue? Seems a pity considering you can't keep your fucking trap shut normally. A very chatty little fucker by all accounts, especially when it comes to family business or getting yourself out of schtook. All this over a few keys of coke. Amazed there was any left for the Filth to find - you tend to Hoover it up in vast amounts, don't you? Trouble is, bruv, if you'd come to me I could have sorted it, and it would have all gone away, but not you, Brain of fucking Britain. Now, thanks to you, and your grassing, we're all in a fucking muddle. Poor Declan, stuck in stir, as stoic as always, doing his time with the minimum of fuss - can't wait till he hears the latest, can you? His temper isn't as epic as mine, but he can come a pretty close second, don't you think? But I digress. I have sorted it for you and Breda, so all's not lost, as they say. Now what's left for me to do is to decide how best to pay you out, and I can assure you I will be thinking about it long and hard. You will have my undivided attention, not just for the piss-take with Declan, but because you made my wife see a side of me that I would rather she had never known about. You made me look a mug in front of her, and that is a cardinal sin where I am concerned. I deserve to be canonised for the saintly way I have treated that girl, and now, thanks to you, she's frightened of me. She's wondering what she's lumbered herself with. Bless her heart, she doesn't understand the world we inhabit, and I never wanted her to. So, as you can imagine, all that damage is going to deserve some serious retribution, and revenge is basically my middle name.'

  Phillip was talking rapidly, his tone friendly, but the manic look in his eyes was enough to tell Jamsie that he was in a very precarious position. Phillip was capable of taking him out now, in full view of everyone. Jamsie kept his mouth shut and waited fearfully for Phillip to make a move.

  Phillip was looking on at his little brother as if he was a fly struggling in the bottom of the toilet pan. He was enjoying Jamsie's discomfort immensely, but was sensible enough to know now that he mustn't give rein to his true feelings, not yet anyway. This ponce needed to stay around for a while, just for appearance's sake if nothing else. Plus, he would enjoy making him wait - it would add to the torment.

  'Don't worry, bruv, you're safe enough for the moment. I promised your mummy I wouldn't harm you. She's worried about you, see, but then she should be, shouldn't she?'

  Jamsie still didn't answer him, but he felt a small surge of relief at his brother's words. His mother would fight for him, he was sure of that, and Phillip would listen to her.

  'Oh, cheer up. You really do have a reprieve, bruv. The only proviso is that you never ever find yourself in the same room as me. As far as I am concerned, you're dead. If I go to Mum's - which I will, often - you make yourself fucking scarce. You keep as far away from me as is physically possible and that way me and you will be all right.'

  His mocking tone was all too evident to Jamsie and he knew he was getting off lightly. Phillip was warning him in more ways than one, was telling him he was finished with him completely, not just as a brother. He had no job and, without his brother's protection and goodwill, he had no chance of getting one either.

  'For all Breda's a cunt, she's a loyal cunt, and that counts for something at least. Overnight, you have helped to destroy not only your own family, but also everything I have worked for, and that is something I will never forgive, Jamsie. I'll get my own back one day, remember that. You are living on borrowed time, you treacherous cunt, and that time is running out every second of every day. But, mark my words, bruv, you're a walking dead man.'

  Standing up, Phillip winked at him jauntily and, turning, walked quickly away. Jamsie watched him as he left the ward, his clothes perfect as always, his demeanour friendly to everyone around him.

  Jamsie was aware that he really was living on borrowed time. Closing his eyes, he felt the weakness wash over him again, and was frightened that the tears in his eyes were about to spill over and shame him even more.

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Christine looked at her sons in their beds and felt the panic rising inside her once more. It seemed impossible that she was looking at such normality, when her life as she knew it had ceased to exist. Since the incident at Veronica's house she had been living on her nerves. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Phillip as he had been that night, but it wasn't the Phillip she had fallen in love with, it wasn't the man who had fathered her children; she saw a monster who had no control over himself whatsoever.

  Since that night she had felt that she was slowly sinking into the quicksand that her whole life had been built on. When his mother had rung her and begged her to get to the house, she wasn't sure what she had expected to find - a family argument obviously, but nothing like what she had been confronted with. She kept seeing Breda on the kitchen floor, battered and bruised and, more frightening than anything, allowing it to happen to her. Breda, who normally had a row like other people had a cup of tea, had been terrified and, worse than that, she was completely accepting of her brother's outrageous behaviour. Christine felt that her whole life was a lie; everything she had believed in, and her future, had disappeared overnight.

  She thought of the few times she had disagreed with Phil; he would smile at her somehow, nothing violent or intimidating, but something in his face had told her to back down, and she always had. She understood now that a small part of her must have already realised that to oppose Phil wasn't something anyone in his orbit did lightly. That even she was dependent on his good humour, his being happy.

  He had looked absolutely demonic, like something from a horror movie; the devil himself could not have been more frightening in the flesh. When she thought of him in church beside her, taking Communion, smiling at the people around him, proud of his family and his beliefs, it was like she was thinking about a completely different person, someone else entirely. She couldn't equate the loving husband and father with the bullying maniac she had seen with her own eyes.

  That Phillip Murphy was someone she had never really met, but she knew now that the manic-eyed, vicious man she had encountered was the real Phillip Murphy. He had hidden it well, she had to give him that, he had known how to suppress that part of his personality. But it still didn't change the fact that that was who he really was, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was stuck with this stranger for the rest of her days. And, more to the point, so were her sons. She had given her boys a father who was capable of literally anything and now she had seen him in his true light, fear was bearing down on her like a lead weight. A part of her hoped he had done something, had been arrested and locked up, and that was why he was missing now. She didn't want him back in her life or her sons' lives. She wanted nothing more to do with him.

  Christine Murphy wanted out of her marriage, out of this life, but she knew that would never be an option for her.
Phillip would make sure of it.

  'Come down and have a cup of tea, child.' Veronica's voice was quiet, and Christine automatically turned and followed her from the room. She had made her mother-in-law promise to stay with her until Phil came back, as she couldn't face dealing with him alone. Veronica had readily agreed, which told Christine just how much danger she and her boys were actually in.

  As she followed her mother-in-law down to the kitchen, her beautiful home didn't interest her any more. Now it felt like some kind of prison, somewhere she was being forced to reside, even though she hated it with a vengeance. She felt a wave of sickness wash over her, and knew that if something didn't happen soon she would snap. It was like waiting for a bomb to explode, only this bomb was flesh and blood, and he wasn't going to disappear after the explosion. The boys were laughing and playing, the radio was on in the background, and the smell of chicken casserole filled the house. All these things, such normal, everyday things, just made the days seem more and more surreal.

  As Veronica said frequently, like some kind of mantra, life, such as it was, had to go on. You got up, and you got on with it. Well, Christine wasn't sure she was capable of going on. Only time would be the judge of that.

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-Three

  'Fuck me, Phillip, you scared the life out of me creeping in like a fucking burglar!'

  Phil Senior had turned and seen his son standing in the kitchen doorway, and it had given him a serious fright.

  Phillip grinned, and his father was relieved to see he looked more or less back to normal. 'Sorry, mate, any chance of a cup of tea?'

  Phil Senior was already putting the kettle on, pleased his son was back and even more pleased to see him acting normally. Phillip could be the proverbial handful, but he was a good boy for ail that, he just needed to be handled gently; if you respected his nature you were all right.

  'Where's Breda?'

  Phil Senior looked at his son now and, sighing, he said gently, 'Not again, Phillip. She's took it on the chin, she's been waiting to see you, but think of your mother…'

  Phillip chuckled. 'She upstairs?' He walked out to the hallway calling loudly, 'Come down, Bred, Dad's making a cup of tea.' He sounded jovial, full of the joys of spring. It was as if nothing had happened. Phil Senior made the tea happily now; the storm was over, for the time being anyway.

  Breda came down slowly and, as she walked into the kitchen and faced her brother, she was white-faced with fear. Phillip looked at her for a long moment, as if appraising her, then, opening his arms widely, he said in a choked voice, 'Come here,

  Breda. Fucking hell, girl, what the fuck has that Jamsie caused us..

  He was being magnanimous, the big man, he was all forgiving, all loving. This was benevolent Phillip; she had experienced this man before, it meant he was over his ire, he was going to let it all go. Basically she knew she was safe, and that meant the world to her. This was Phillip at his best, this was the Phillip she loved more than anyone else in the world, even her own child. She went into his arms without hesitation. She was so relieved she started to sob, her whole body shaking with the intensity of her emotions.

  Phillip held her to him tightly, as if protecting her from harm. She could smell the particular smell he had - a mixture of healthy sweat and expensive aftershave. It was unique to him and, at times like this, it made her feel safe, made her feel needed, wanted. Cared for. She was still part of the family, and that meant more to her than anything.

  'I've seen that treacherous cunt Jamsie, and put the hard word on him. I appreciate you were only doing what you thought was right, Bred. I see that now.' He pulled her away from him and looked deep into her eyes as he said seriously, 'You caused me a lot of fucking hag, but I forgive you. You thought you were doing good and I see that now. I've smoothed over the Filth and sorted out everything. We'll talk no more about it. But, in future, you don't ever take anything like that on yourself again, do you understand me?'

  She was nodding furiously now. 'I'm so sorry, Phil, I lost it a bit… I didn't think it through…'

  Phillip smiled and hugged her. 'You were doing what you thought was right, and I appreciate your loyalty to me and the family. As will Declan when I tell him. You are a fucking diamond, Breda - a bit quick off the mark, but a diamond all the same.'

  Phil Senior poured the tea, filled with relief. It was over,

  Phillip had decided he would allow his sister to carry on in the family business. Phillip wasn't a fool, she was a grafter old Breda, they all knew that. He was just relieved it was over. He wasn't too worried about Jamsie - he would have to swallow whatever came his way now - he had asked for it, and he had got it. He was on his own now.

  'Where's the little fella? Go and get him, I ain't seen him for ages. Any cake to go with that tea, Dad? I'm fucking starving…'

  Breda went upstairs to get her son, she could feel her legs buckling underneath her with the relief. As she picked up her son and hugged him to her, she thanked God that she had escaped her brother's wrath, and she swore that from now on she would never take him or his moods for granted again. It was all about Phillip now, and that suited her down to the ground. She had come close to losing everything, and she was not about to make that mistake again. As for Jamsie, he had made his bed, he had better get used to lying in it. Now that Phillip had blanked him, he was as good as a dead man. No one in their right mind would give him the time of day without Phillip's say- so. Jamsie was out, and she was back in; life was suddenly good again.

  * * *

  Chapter Forty-Four

  'He'll be here soon, Christine, go and tidy yourself up, child.'

  Since the call from her husband, Veronica had been like a young girl. Phillip was back home, happy as a sandboy, so all was right with the world. Christine actually found that even more unnerving than anything else, if she was honest. They seemed to think that because Phillip was happy that was enough. No one appeared to take onboard what he had done, what had happened that night, as if his behaviour didn't warrant discussion.

  Veronica looked at the troubled countenance of her daughter- in-law and her heart went out to her. She understood how hard this had been for her, but Christine was going to have to learn how to tackle this husband of hers the hard way. Because he was not going to change, and she needed to accept that.

  'Look, Christine, I love you like me own, but you have to understand that Phillip… well, he's not like other people.'

  Christine laughed derisively then. 'You don't say! I would never have worked that one out for myself.'

  Veronica immediately felt worried. Christine was about to make the mistake of a lifetime, and she had literally thirty minutes to get her into a different frame of mind. Phillip would not tolerate any kind of criticism, especially not from his wife. If he loved anyone, it was this girl. Her questioning him while he was vulnerable would only set him off again. If Christine would just use her loaf, she could have the life that most young women dreamed about. Veronica knew it was time to get tough.

  'Listen to me, Christine, and listen good. When my Phillip walks through that door, you smile and you looked pleased to see him - act like you were worried something had happened to him. Do not, and I repeat, do not ask him where he's been for the last five days. Do not question him about anything. When he's like this, it is all about him. You feed him, you love him, and you accept whatever he tells you without any kind of questioning. That is the main thing here - you ask him nothing. Now, I know how this sounds, darling, but believe me, if you do question him, you really won't want to know the answers. I've lived with this side of him since he was old enough to crawl. He's strange, but he's still a good man, and he loves you. He adores you. But for all that, if you push him, he'll retaliate, and I know what I'm saying when I tell you you do not want that in your life.'

  Christine was staring at her mother-in-law; she knew the woman was deadly serious, that Veronica thought she should hear all this about her husband and would meekly agre
e with her and her home diagnosis about the lunatic she had given birth to.

  'Strange? He's strange you say? I mustn't question him, so what exactly am I to do, then? Come on, Veronica, I'm fascinated now.'

  Veronica closed her eyes tightly, and shook her head in sheer desperation. 'He's your husband and there'll be no divorce, he won't countenance that - you know it, and I know it. What you do now, darling, is what many a woman has done before you. You learn how to live a good life, you learn how to overlook his foibles, and make the best of what you've got. Look at me - I married a fucking waster, but he's my husband, and I made a life as best I could.' She grabbed Christine's hands in hers then and, pulling them to her chest, she said sadly, 'Listen, Chris. People like my Phillip can't cope with being crossed in any way. When he's like this you have to humour him. These episodes don't last long, and it's been years since he had one. He'll feel bad that you witnessed it. You have to act like you don't care about it all. You have to pretend that everything's fine. You don't want him fretting, and you certainly don't want him going off again. Think of the boys, think about your lovely life - and you have got a lovely life, darling. Look around you at your home, at how well you're doing, how well you two are doing together. When he comes in, you treat him like visiting royalty. I promise you, that's how you cope with Phillip's nature.'