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Spider had once pointed out to him that he was a professional Rasta and so the Bob Marley hat and the crooked smile Jasper wore had never fooled him. To Spider, Jasper was the kind of black man that gave the rest of them a bad name. He was a poster boy Rasta and his own authenticity was what had alerted Spider to the fact he was a fake. Spider was the one man Jasper was wary of because he saw him for what he really was and this bothered him.

Jasper had no regular income, legal or otherwise; he lived off his considerable wits and it was his knack of finding opportunities that had led him to the Williams brothers and his latest earner.

Jasper had ingratiated himself with Cain and had introduced him to the finer points of smoking, from a twist to a pipe. He had helped the Williams brothers get involved with Spider's little brother and he was proud of his part in bringing down the arrogant little shit. The Williams boys were a few coconuts short of a palm tree, as his mother used to say, but they were also emerging from their Brodie-imposed exile better than he would have given them credit for. Now that Cain was onside they were in a unique position because Spider would not let anything drastic happen to his little brother. At least that's what this crowd of goons believed, anyway. Jasper wasn't so sure; Spider had seen through him as if he was a pane of glass on their first meeting and not many people were that astute. Shame Spider hadn't used the same instinct with his little brother but then family had to really piss you off before you outed them.

The Williams family were close, as close as their kind could be anyway, and they were paying him well for his contribution to their cause. Now he was sitting there with them, fooling them all with his smiles, his gold teeth and his thick Jamaican accent, all the while planning how best he could exploit them or utilise the knowledge that he was gathering to his own advantage. They were loose-lipped and he knew everything about them.

He began to build another joint knowing that if Brodie was looking for Cain then their days were numbered. Spider would have to swallow and he had a feeling that once Brodie had heard all he had garnered over the last few weeks he would not be a happy bunny.

The last few weeks had been a revelation to him and, as the boys talked, he listened while building his spliff and singing 'Exodus' in a low voice, sounding more like Marley than the man himself. The Williams boys were taking the piss out of him periodically, thinking he didn't realise it, and he took it with good humour as always. Let them think he was a fucking moron. He was only sorry this lot didn't appreciate how he was playing them. But they would eventually, when it was too late, of course.

As Jasper sipped his rum and smoked his spliff, he was grinning and laughing, while wondering how this shower of shite managed to find their own arseholes without a fucking detailed map, a compass and a torch.

'Calm down, Lil. Lance what?'

Lil sighed in exasperation as she tried to explain the situation to Patrick, but she knew he was having a lot more trouble than her believing it.

'He threw a six-year-old girl off a moving bus. She had to have eight stitches in her head and she was terrified out of her life.'

She sighed heavily at the shock on his face, knowing it was mirrored in her own. 'He has been bullying the family for yonks, the little fucker. I think you had better go and look at him and see what I've done to him before we talk any more, OK?'

There was something in her voice that alerted Patrick to the truth of what she was saying yet he didn't want to believe it.

'Lil, is this a wind up?' But he knew it wasn't. He knew she was serious.

'What do
you
think, Pat? That I thought I'd have a joke with you about something this serious? He nearly killed a little girl. Fucking funny is it? It's a big joke, is it? Only I ain't laughing, am I?'

Patrick took the stairs two at a time and went into his son's room. Lance was asleep. He looked like the victim of a train crash; he was swollen and bruised all over, his cut eyebrow had scabbed over and none of the blood had been wiped away. He knew that Lil had left him there without seeing to him and this bothered him more than the beating the child had taken; it said a lot for her feelings. He felt anger welling up inside him; the boy looked so little, so frail, and with his body curled into a ball and his hands placed under his cheek, he looked like an angel. He put out a hand to touch him but stopped himself. The boy was better off asleep. He was battered like a Friday night cod as it was.

Lance was sleeping deeply, as if he had no cares in the world. Patrick had a feeling this would not be the first time this child of his would be taken to task in his life and it pained him to admit that to himself, but he had always been a realist. Lance was the product of his own two parents, and that, mixed with Lil's family tree, meant the boy didn't stand a chance. Selfish and greedy, Lance was everything Patrick despised; he seemed to have all the bad traits of his ancestors and none of the good ones. Lance's only saving grace was how he was with his little sisters. How protective Lance was of them gave Patrick hope for this boy's future.

He forced down the urge to give the boy another hiding. He was sorry, not because Lance was battered and bruised, but because he felt no pity for him. Lance's eyelids were flickering, he was dreaming. Patrick knew that any other child would have been awake, would have been far too upset to sleep. He stared down at his son, wondering what he had bred. He knew that at some time in the future this boy would be an asset in any criminal undertaking but that as a child he was an anomaly. He found his dislike of his child was growing by the second. He wanted to drag him from the bed and make him understand just what he had done, but he knew that if he touched him, he would not be responsible for his actions. He needed to calm down first. The boy had been spoiled by his granny since he had first drawn breath and she had played a big part in all this. He had to blame her for a part of it, otherwise he would go mad. Well, he was going to sort the vindictive old bitch out. He needed to blame someone for his son's twisted nature and she was the prime suspect as far as he was concerned. Listening to the boy's soft breathing he knew he had to get away from him, to leave this room and all it entailed.

He crept into the other kids' rooms; the girls, as always, were asleep in one bed, a mass of plump limbs and baby sweat. Their lovely, long blonde hair was damp from their body heat and their rosy cheeks made his heart swell with love for them. They were good-looking children. All his kids were handsome and he was proud of them; at least he had been, until now. Kissing them lightly he went to his eldest boy's room and, opening the door, he saw he was awake as if waiting for him to come home. He guessed this was exactly what his son had been doing.

'All right, Dad?' Pat Junior smiled tremulously at his father.

Patrick sat on the edge of his bed and smiled back. 'What happened, son?'

Patrick knew he would get the truth from him, Pat Junior was as honest as the day was long.

'Mum was really cross, she went mad.'

Pat nodded. 'I can see that, mate, but she had reason to be, by the sounds of it.'

The boy reluctantly nodded in agreement; as always he was trying to look out for Lance.

'But he didn't mean it, Dad. He does bad things but he don't really mean to, he just doesn't think…'

Patrick loved this son of his; he knew that he was still trying to defend his brother even though Lance wasn't worth this loyalty. Lance had no loyalty or respect for anyone but himself.

'But he did hurt Maureen Callahan, Dad. I heard about it at school and I asked him about it. He denied it.'

Patrick nodded once more, the shame washing over him and leaving him feeling dirty.

'But you knew it was true, didn't you?'

Pat Junior nodded again as his eyes searched his father's for a hint of approval about how he was handling the problems his brother seemed to bring him on a daily basis. He didn't want to say outright that he had believed it from the off and that nothing his brother did surprised him.

'You're a good boy, son. Now relax and I'll talk to your mother and get it sorted. This is a serious thing that Lance has done, you do understand that, don't you?'

'I know. I felt sick when I heard. She could have been killed.'

Patrick shrugged, a nonchalant shrug that took all his willpower because he was going to lie and he knew it was important that his boy believed what he was going to say so he didn't feel any more guilt over his brother and his actions.

'This isn't your fault, mate. You couldn't have prevented this. Lance has a mind of his own and when I am finished with him he will wish he had never laid eyes on that girl or her family. This is not your problem, OK? You don't need to worry about this any more.'

Patrick looked into the face so like his own and wished he didn't have to deal with all this now. He had enough on his plate without a fucking Looney Tunes for a son. His actions seemed so far-fetched that he had thought it would turn out to be exaggerated or a big mistake. Now he knew that Lance was capable of anything. He was the child everyone was frightened of. Lance was a coward and it was that which made Patrick so angry; he had somehow bred a coward who had been able to bully his way through life because he bore the name Brodie.

Now he had to make some kind of sense out of this for Lil's sake and for this boy here, who he knew would be Lance's buffer to the world, until even he couldn't take it any more. He stroked Pat Junior's hair, feeling the thickness of it. The fact his son hadn't answered him was enough to make him change the subject and try to bring some normality into this twilight world the boy seemed to have stumbled into. Violence was his game and now it had crept into his home. All the years he had feared it encroaching on his family and he was stunned to find that its arrival had been heralded by one of his own children. This wasn't a boyish prank, it was a cold-blooded act of hate and as a man who used his strength and intimidation to earn a living, that was a very frightening thought. Controlled violence was one thing, as long as it didn't involve civilians and it was kept in their world. But the more he thought of his son's act, the more he knew he needed to be home more often than he was. Lance needed to be watched over and taught right and wrong. He needed a strong hand to guide him into the future.

Patrick forced a smile and said in a cheerful whisper, 'Looking forward to your party?'

Patrick Junior nodded but the pain and fear were still in his eyes and Patrick knew he couldn't do this now; he had too much on his mind. Now that Lance's actions had finally sunk in he needed time to digest and cogitate on what the outcome should be.

'Come on you, get to sleep. Let me sort this lot out, eh?'

The relief in the boy's eyes was evident; the problem had been taken away from him. Patrick felt guilt weighing on him heavily for leaving this child to shoulder so much of the burden in the household. He was going to have to get out of the game; delegate more of the day-to-day running of the businesses. He was getting past all the skulduggery that constituted his main graft, his earned wage. If the truth be told, he was finally getting fed up with it all.

The Williams brothers should have been taken out from the off and because of Spider and his low-life brother, he had left the situation for too long, all the while expecting Spider to sort it out. Well he hadn't, not in time for him anyway. He had let it go on and that had set off alarm bells. Spider had an achilles heel, as they all did to an extent, but where Patrick would take out a family member if the offence warranted it, Spider couldn't. Cain was on his last legs and so was Spider if he played up. He had given him ample opportunity to sort the lairy little fucker out. If Cain had been his brother the Williams brothers would have been warned off long ago. Cain would then have had his displeasure at the association pointed out to him with such force that he would have broken off any kind of friendship
tout de suite.

Then he came home to another fucking war. Life was a bastard, there was no two ways about it. This son of his, who he loved more than life itself, was already carrying the weight of his siblings on his shoulders and he knew that if anything should happen to him, the boy would be carrying the mantle for this family long before he was due.

'Go to sleep, son. I'll sort it all out. Stop worrying, OK?'

Patrick Junior nodded once more and in the half-light Patrick saw the tiredness that was etched on the boy's face. This child was already old before his time, he realised now. He saw himself in this boy and Pat Junior was emulating his own life in the way he tried to keep the peace with everyone. He had learned to be a diplomat at a young age as well and had spent his childhood sneaking around his parents, trying not to annoy them. They had walked away from him regularly and left him to fend for himself without a second's thought and that had been hard. Now his son was in a similar position, trying to keep his brother on track and trying to be the man of the house for his mother, for Lil, who was weak with pregnancy and unsure of what to do about Lance and his antics. He sat there until Pat dropped off. Then he smoothed his son's thick black hair away from his brow and sighed heavily.

He went back downstairs into the neat and tidy kitchen and saw that his wife, his lovely Lil, was still standing where he had left her.

Took, Lil, you're right. Lance is definitely not all the ticket, but what can we do?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know Pat, that's just it. What the fuck do we do about him? I talked Janie Callahan down and she had the sense to keep the Old Bill out of it, so everyone thinks the child fell but the point is, he nearly
killed
her and he was still denying it, the little fucker.'

That Lil was at the end of her tether was evident. She was near to tears, and, holding her gently to his chest, he kissed her softly, smelling Vosene shampoo and the sweet aroma of her scent. She favoured Blue Grass and it lingered on her skin. It reminded him that soon she would be brought to bed with another child and would be his lovely Lil once more. No more backache, no more restless nights and no more upset because he was going to sort this out for her and give her peace of mind back.