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  Phillip locked the door quickly, saying, 'Pour me one, Dec.' As he slipped off his overcoat, Declan saw he was covered in blood, and was immediately worried.

  'You all right, Phil?'

  Phillip laughed, pleased at his brother's concern. 'Yeah, had a bit of unfinished business with Ricky Thomas.'

  He was already stripping off his clothes and placing them in a black bin bag. When he was naked he picked up his drink and swallowed it down, holding out the glass for another. Declan obliged, but he was annoyed. There was no reason to take out Ricky - they had got what they wanted, this was just petty and juvenile and he said as much. 'You had to do it, didn't you? Everyone will know it was us, Phil…'

  'They'd better. This is my message to the whole fucking seafront: don't fuck with the Murphys. Especially this fucking Murphy.'

  He walked through to the small bathroom and turned on the shower, then, coming back into the room, he said happily, 'Oh, by the way, I promised him I'd look out for his kids, and you know me, Dec, I am a lot of things but I always keep a promise. So we'll get a few quid together for his old woman, and make sure everyone puts in a decent wedge. She'll need it now they won't be going to Spain.'

  'She'll be devastated, she loved him you know.'

  'Oh, I wouldn't worry about her too much. Six weeks after the funeral she'll be sweating her arse off underneath some young ponce, who's as interested in what she's got as he is in her fake tits. Hardly Gone With the fucking Wind, is it?'

  Declan laughed despite himself, he knew what Phillip said was true. But it was still a shame - he had liked Ricky Thomas, he was a nice geezer. But the damage was done, and there was no reason to keep on about it. Phillip had done what he felt he had to do, and that was that. While his brother showered, Declan tied up the bin bag ready to be burned in the incinerator at the farm.

  Ten minutes later Phillip was washed, dressed and ready to go to one of the clubs for a few drinks.

  It was over with, finished, done.

  * * *

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Christine was making the boys their breakfast. She was happy again, but she still wasn't sleeping much. In fact, she was hardly sleeping at all. She would mention it to the doctor on Wednesday when she went for her appointment. She had hardly slept for ten days now, and even she knew that it wasn't right. She was manic again, and she was afraid that meant she was due one of her brain storms, as Phillip so succinctly put it. She was too frightened to go to sleep, because when she did, she was plagued by bad dreams, about blood, and death, and suicide. She saw herself drowning in a sea of thick, hot blood, could taste it as it forced its way down her throat and into her body; the smell was heavy, cloying, and she knew it was never going to stop. She shivered at the thought as she opened the Aga and took out the boys' huge breakfasts. They had a full English every morning, it was what they needed to get them through the day. They were growing like weeds, and they were both heavy-boned and tall like their father.

  As she placed the plates on the table, she listened to the news on her local radio station and, for a few seconds, she thought she had imagined what she had heard.

  'Shut up, you two! I'm trying to hear.'

  The boys immediately became quiet, listening with her.

  'The man was found brutally stabbed to death on Southend Seafront at five o'clock this morning by two young fishermen who saw the car abandoned in the small lay-by near the sea. Mr

  Richard Thomas was a well-known face in Southend, his grandfather had opened his first arcade along the front in the nineteen twenties and his son, Richard Thomas's father, had opened another one in the late fifties. Police say they are treating the death as murder, and urge any witnesses to come forward. Anything they have to say will be received in the strictest confidence. Mr Thomas leaves a wife and two young children.'

  Philly and Timmy were both open-mouthed with astonishment.

  'Is that Uncle Ricky? Someone murdered Uncle Ricky?' Philly's voice was drenched in incredulity and shock. Timmy was near to tears, and Christine sat down heavily in the nearest chair, her mind whirling at the news. She was already shaking with fear and, standing up quickly, she ran from the room. She was holding her hand across her mouth as if to stop herself from making any sound. A voice in her head was screaming that it wasn't true, what she was thinking couldn't be true. Phillip wouldn't do that, he had got what he wanted, so surely there was no need for him to do that… But something inside her knew that she was wrong, was convinced that Phillip was involved somehow.

  As she retched over the sink in the downstairs toilet, she heard the door opening behind her. She could feel Phillip's presence even before she looked in the bathroom mirror and stared straight into his eyes.

  'I just heard, Chris. Fucking hell, it's unbelievable, ain't it?'

  She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak.

  'Come on, a cup of hot sweet tea for you. You've had a terrible shock, and so have the boys. I'm going to keep them home today.'

  He walked her gently back to the kitchen and, sitting her down, he poured her a cup of tea and, after he laced it liberally with Courvoisier, he did the same for the two boys. Christine gulped the liquid, and watched her husband's reaction to the news.

  'You all right, Timmy?'

  The boy was crying silently, and Christine knew she should comfort him, but she couldn't move from the chair.

  Phillip poured her another brandy, not bothering with the tea this time, and he also went and got her a couple of her pills. She took them gratefully, uncaring of the way the boys were watching her in disgust.

  Just then, Breda and Declan came through the back door. Christine had never been so grateful to see anyone in her life before.

  'I take it you've heard?' Breda went straight to Christine and hugged her tenderly. 'He was such a bloody fool, he made so many bloody enemies in the last few months, and he owed money everywhere. Even Phillip bailed him out, tried to help him, but he wouldn't be helped.'

  Christine was listening to her sister-in-law as if what she was saying was gospel. She couldn't believe that the man who had come to her home for dinner, whose only crime had been wanting to keep his business, had been murdered by her husband, by the father of her children. But she knew whatever anyone said it was true; deep inside she knew this was Phillip Murphy at work.

  Declan was pouring tea for him and Breda, and she saw Phillip filling up her brandy glass again. It suited him to get her pissed because he knew that she suspected him.

  'But why would they kill him, Auntie Breda, what reason could they have to stab him?' This was her Philly now, he was shrewder than they gave him credit for.

  She saw her husband shrug, all innocence and bewilderment, and she felt the urge to get out of the chair and fell him, take her arm back and just fell him to the ground.

  'Look, boys,' Phillip replied. 'Uncle Ricky had a lot of problems, and he turned on a lot of his mates. People he had known for years. That was why I took the arcades off his hands, to try and help him out. But he had got in with some right villains, and they must have had it in for him.'

  Christine watched as the lies tripped off his tongue but, looking at her Philly, her first-born, she saw that he wasn't swallowing any of it. Somehow he knew, and she felt like he approved of what his father had done. Her boy was so young, he shouldn't know the ways of his father's world just yet, but then how could he be oblivious to it? The Murphys were treated like visiting royalty on the seafront. Philly must have realised that it was his name that gave him so much attention. Phillip walked around with his sons like a king visiting his subjects. The boys were given free rides, money for the machines, free drink, free food. They had to know their father was a Face of sorts, they weren't fucking stupid.

  The pills were kicking in, and she could feel herself detaching slowly from the people around her. She kept seeing Deandra's face as she had left their house that night, could still feel the squeeze she had given her on her shoulder as an apology for her hu
sband's boorish behaviour. Poor Deandra, and those two little children.

  Breda was watching Christine closely, and she motioned for Phillip to get the boys out of the room. Then she knelt in front of her sister-in-law and said kindly, 'Come on, Christine, let's get you back to bed, love, this has been a big shock for all of us.'

  'Breda, tell me the truth and swear on your Porrick's life, was this anything to do with Phillip?'

  Breda shook her head and sighed deeply as she said, 'I swear to you, on my boy's life, that this is not anything to do with us lot.' She sounded shocked at the accusation, and suitably offended as well.

  Christine grabbed at her hands and held them tightly. 'I'm sorry, Breda, but just for a split second there… I can't help it, I get these thoughts.'

  'Come on, mate, let's get you to bed, eh? We've all had a terrible shock, and it takes everyone in different ways. You're not well, love, and you need to rest.'

  Christine went to bed obediently, glad to be away from the family, glad to be away from her husband.

  When Phillip slipped in an hour later, she pretended to be asleep and, as his lips touched her face gently, she was only just able to stop herself from screaming out loud.

  * * *

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Veronica was at Phillip's house, as she had been for the last five days, taking care of the boys. It was something she had done many times over the years when Christine wasn't herself, as she liked to put it. The boys loved her looking after them, and usually that bothered Christine, but right now she was glad of the woman's company. She knew she couldn't be alone with Phillip yet. She was still reeling from the events of the last few days.

  The police had questioned Phillip in front of Christine, and she had known then that they too suspected his hand in all this, but they couldn't prove it. He owned most of the police around here anyway. It was how their world worked - she had cooked for them and their wives enough times over the years. Phillip had always looked after them, had joked that if you looked after the Filth, the Filth would look after you. And it seemed he was right.

  Veronica placed a cup of coffee in front of her and said gently, 'Shall I make you a nice omelette, Chris, something light and tasty?'

  Christine sipped at the coffee obediently, but shook her head in refusal. 'I should have kept that doctor's appointment, was he all right about me changing it?'

  Veronica smiled at her.' 'Course he was. Phillip explained you had received a terrible shock, and you were taking it easy for a while, and the doctor said that was the best thing for you. He said there would be a prescription for sleeping tablets at the surgery, and Phil's going to pick them up later on, so stop worrying. Once you get a good night's rest you'll feel much better.'

  Christine nodded, she was tired out. 'Any news about Ricky? Have the police found out who did it yet?'

  Veronica shook her head sagely. 'Sure, they'll never find out. It's like Phillip says, whoever did it is long gone. He thinks it was someone come over from Spain - apparently Ricky had ripped off a lot of people over there with a timeshare scam. So, it looks like there could be a few culprits in the mix. What a foolish man, eh? And I always liked him. He seemed pretty genuine, like, but then you never really know anyone, I suppose.'

  'Were Phillip and Declan really round your house that night, Veronica?'

  'How many times, child! They were there sorting out with Breda about the clubs and the new arcades. I wouldn't lie to you about something so important, I swear to you before God and man. Now stop asking me for Christ's sakes.'

  Christine didn't answer her, instead she sipped at her coffee and chain-smoked Marlboro Lights.

  Veronica went about the business of the house, and wondered if Phillip realised that his own wife thought he had murdered Ricky Thomas. She could see it in her eyes, could see it in her demeanour. Had almost heard the accusation from her lips. The trouble was, she thought exactly the same thing but, unlike this girl here, she knew better than to dwell on it all. She had learned very early on that knowledge wasn't power - that was a crock of shit. Knowledge was actually added aggravation, and there were some things you were better off never knowing the truth about, for sure.

  She was aware that her Phillip wasn't an angel, but she also knew he wasn't wired like other people and, because of that, she overlooked a lot where he was concerned. Blood was thicker than water, and family was all that really mattered in the end. She didn't ask questions, because she didn't want to know the answers, and if this poor young woman could only learn to live by that credo she would be a much happier person. Veronica would lie for her kids until the day she died, and she would do it happily. That was what mothers were for.

  Christine would find that out for herself one day, because those two lads she had produced were their father's sons all right. They would be a big part of this family in years to come. Maybe then this silly girl would open her eyes and see the world as it really was, count her blessings, and thank God her sons were safe inside a family that loved them, and would protect them no matter what.

  * * *

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  'Everyone knows it was Phillip, but no one is going to accuse him, are they?' Ted Booth was worried to death about his daughter and cursed the day she had captured the interest of Phillip Murphy. 'Doesn't it bother you that our daughter is tied to a murderer? Her nerves are shot, and she is like a fucking wraith, she can't weigh more than a few stone, and you don't seem bothered about it at all.'

  Eileen sighed heavily, sometimes this man was like a broken record. 'All right then, I dare you, I dare you, to go round Phillip Murphy's house and bring her home. Go on! If you're that worried about her, go and get her. Go and save her from her husband.' She laughed then, a nasty vindictive laugh. 'Didn't think so. Now, this is the last time I am going to discuss this, Ted, and I mean it. She made her bed years ago when she fought us to marry him. Now she is stuck there and, like you, I hate seeing what it's doing to her, but what the fuck can we do about it? Phillip ain't the type of person you could discuss it with, is he? He won't allow us to take her away from him, he actually loves her in his own way. That's half the fucking trouble, if he would dump her she'd be halfway home. But the worse she gets, the more he seems determined to keep her beside him. Until he outs her, there is nothing we can do without bringing his wrath down on our own heads, and none of us want that, do we? Well, do we?!' She was screaming the last words now, her anger and frustration overwhelming her. 'He gives us a good living, and he gives her a good life. Until he allows her to leave him, there is nothing anyone can do. So either grow a spine and go and get her, or shut up about it.'

  Ted Booth knew she spoke the truth, and that hurt him more than anything. Because he knew he would never have the guts to go and front up Phillip Murphy - the man terrified him. As he would any normal person. But Ted was scared for his daughter; he could see her drowning in her own mind and it was killing him.

  Eileen felt a moment's sympathy for her husband; she understood exactly how he felt, but she also knew it was useless trying to do anything about it. She took what they were given, and she was grateful for it, and she made sure Phillip Murphy knew that.

  'Look, Ted, I feel the same as you but, in reality, what can we do? He ain't a person you can cross. This latest should remind you of exactly what we are dealing with here. So just let it go, eh?'

  He nodded sadly.

  'Like my old mum always said, Ted, be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it. We fought Christine every step of the way with him, and she married him regardless. Now there's no more we can do for her. I wish it was different, but it ain't. He loves the bones of that girl, and she's got his kids, and she's got his name. What we want doesn't matter any more. She's tied to him until one of them dies, because he won't ever let her go without a fight.'

  Teddy knew the truth of his wife's words, and hoped God might be good to them and see that maniac Murphy murdered sooner rather than later. It was his constant praye
r, and he begged that it would be answered one day.

  * * *

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  'Are you sure you can do this, Chris?'

  Christine nodded silently, aware that they were all amazed to see her up and dressed, ready for the funeral. Breda went to her sister-in-law and put her arm around her shoulder. 'You look lovely, Christine. Deandra will appreciate you paying your respects.'

  Phillip and Declan exchanged glances, and Breda nodded her head almost imperceptibly to let them know she would babysit her sister-in-law.

  When the boys walked into the kitchen sad-faced and dressed in their black suits Christine felt her eyes fill with tears. 'Are you sure they should go today, Phil?'

  Phillip nodded and said firmly, 'Ricky was a part of their lives, and now they are growing up they need to learn to respect people who have passed away. He thought the world of our lads, and it's fitting they should be there to see him sent on his last journey.'

  He sounded so reasonable, so normal. Christine couldn't find an argument against it.

  'You all right, Mum?'

  This from Timmy, he was the most kind-hearted of her boys. Philly she knew resented her because she wasn't what he termed 'normal', like his friends' mothers. She had heard him telling Timmy he was ashamed of her, and that people at school said mental illness ran in families. His words had cut her to the quick, but she didn't let on she knew what he thought about her. She hoped that one day her sons would understand why she acted as she did.

  Timmy came over and gave her a little hug, which touched her. Phillip had to force his elder son to do the same, and that hurt her more than he would ever know. Every day Philly was growing closer to his father, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Both the boys adored him, and with her being like she was, she knew they both depended on him far too much. It was a vicious circle, and she couldn't tell where it started, let alone where it would all finish.