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Lil was listening to her mother with half an ear. As she brushed Kathleen's hair she marvelled at its softness; in matching cream party dresses the twins looked gorgeous. When they were dressed up, their likeness was somehow even more pronounced although Eileen had darker eyes but, unless you really looked, it wasn't that noticeable.

'When I answered the door and saw your man standing there I nearly had a heart attack.'

Annie was pleased to see she finally had her daughter's attention.

'What, Pat came round yours? That's a turn up for the books.'

Annie nodded with what she hoped was a winsome look. She so desperately wanted to get back into her daughter's good books that she was willing to try anything. She had never felt so lonely in her life as she had the last week or so.

'What did he say?'

Annie smiled slightly and her heavily wrinkled eyes reminded Lil of just how much her mother had missed them all. She seemed to have aged dramatically and, as Lil looked at her, she felt her mother's need of her and her family.

'He just said that Lance was going to be punished and that I would be better off keeping away for a while so you two could sort him out in private.'

Lil was sceptical about that but she didn't voice her thoughts.

Annie was not going to tell her daughter that Patrick Brodie had read her the riot act; had threatened her with total banishment if she indulged Lance any more or treated any of the other children differently from him. He had told her outright that he didn't like her and she was only going to be brought back into the fold if she kept on the right side of him. One false move and she was toast, was how he had so nicely put it.

She had readily agreed; she would walk over hot coals if that's what it would take to get herself back into the bosom of her family. She had stopped herself from going near Lance today, acting as if she wasn't bothered whether she saw him or not. She wasn't fooling anyone, she knew, but at least they could see she was trying. As Lil pulled Eileen on to her lap to brush her hair through and put it into bunches like her sister's, Annie thought that she would die from happiness. Kathleen walked over to her and put her arms up for a cuddle without any coercion from her at all.

'Nanny.'

Annie smiled in delight at the child's words.

'Nutty Nanny Annie.'

Lil could have happily beaten her husband to death for teaching the girls to say that and as she waited for her mother to make a scathing remark she was surprised to see that she was laughing with Kathleen. Really laughing with her and it was such an unusual sight she felt her eyes fill with tears. Her hormones must be on overdrive because she was very tearful lately; the least little thing could set her off. Since Lance had hurt that girl, she had been on a knife-edge and though she knew her pregnancy was the main reason for her mood changes, her son's actions still gave her sleepless nights.

Eileen was laughing as well now and Lil hugged her daughter to her, thanking God for the twins, as she did on a daily basis. They were little angels and she knew that though every woman thought their kids were beautiful, hers really were. Not just to her, but to complete strangers. People always remarked on them when she took them out; they were such happy children and so friendly and contented that they made a stir wherever they went. And if they had melted Annie Diamond's heart then they had to be special, because in all her life she had never managed to elicit so much as a smile from her mother and at times that still grieved her.

Pat Junior walked into the room in his new clothes and Lil watched his handsome face as he picked up both his sisters in his arms and chatted to them in a funny voice. In his new clothes; black Farah trousers and a white Ben Sherman shirt, he looked so grown up she was speechless for a moment. She suddenly saw the young man who was beginning to emerge and she was reminded once more that children were only on loan to you. Before you knew it, they were grown up and getting ready to fly the nest. She so wanted them to feel loved, and wanted them to feel that she had given them a happy childhood. She wanted them to have everything she had never had in her own childhood.

Annie saw her daughter's face and wished she had some gem of wisdom to share with her on this big occasion, but she couldn't remember Lil's tenth birthday, or any of her birthdays, for that matter. They had never celebrated anything and how she regretted that now, for letting her husband rule her, rule them both. She conveniently forgot that she had let him and had become like him. That she had resented the child that had forced her into marriage with him. Annie sighed. You lived and learned and she had been lucky enough to be given a second chance with this daughter of hers and she was grateful for that much.

She wondered if Lil was thinking the same as her as she looked at her eldest grandson, nearly prostrate with excitement at the thought of his party, and thanking his mother over and over again for all the work she had put into it. She couldn't help wondering if this was reminding her daughter of her own empty birthdays and her own childhood, as it was reminding her.

Annie heard the front door open and Patrick Brodie's loud voice as he called out for the birthday boy. Annie was still nervous of him and as she made her way out to the hall and admired Patrick Junior's new bike, she reminded herself she was still on probation as far as her daughter's husband was concerned.

He winked at her and she smiled at him with obvious relief. He grabbed his wife in his arms and said happily to Patrick Junior, 'Ten, eh, son. You'll be eye to eye with me soon. My old man stopped giving me the belt the day I hit eye level. I lamped him one and told him that next time I'd do it when he was asleep and he never tried to beat me again.'

Pat Junior loved it when his father told him stories about his own childhood. As he caressed his new racing bike, he asked him seriously, 'Did he really hit you with a belt, Dad?'

'He fucking hammered me with anything that came to hand. Miserable old bastard he was. Still is, for all I know. But the belt hurt, I can tell you.'

Pat Junior looked at his mother then. 'Did Nanny Annie ever hit you, Mum?'

It was said in jest but he immediately regretted asking because the humour went and she answered flatly, 'Come on, let's get sorted. Make sure you brush your hair for the photograph, OK?'

Pat Junior nodded and he saw his grandmother's face had turned scarlet. He felt the sudden urge to grab his mother in his arms and comfort her, even though he wasn't sure why. His father got there first, though. He watched with sad eyes as his father kissed his mother gently on the lips before saying quietly, 'I love you Lily Brodie and don't you ever forget that.'

Pat Junior felt the urge to cry then and his mother, sensing her son's discomfort, pulled him into her heavy belly and kissing him on the top of his head, she laughed.

'What a bleeding crowd we are, near to tears on the best day of your life!'

Pat Junior felt his father's hand on his shoulder and, embraced by both his parents, he wished that the moment would never end. He felt so safe, so protected and loved that he knew he would carry the memory of this moment all his life.

Dave, Bernie and Tommy Williams were drunk. They had been out on it since the morning and now it was early afternoon they were rocking. As they stood at the bar laughing loudly, they were aware of the looks they were getting from the regulars.

They had not been in this pub for a while and they knew that their sudden appearance would have already been reported back to base camp.

It was the day of the big party and anyone who was anyone would be going to the church hall laden down with presents and good-natured bonhomie.

They knew they were safe enough. Pat Brodie wouldn't be doing a lot today and they had kept a low profile for long enough. Now though, they were all tanked up enough to face young Ricky and his perfectly understandable anger at their need to always be drunk. They would meet up with him eventually, when it suited them, nearer the time. The Blind Beggar public house was packed out, as it was most Saturday lunchtimes. The clientele was an assorted mix of market traders, local shop owners, a few goons and a sprinkling of smalltime Faces.

There had been a time when the name Williams would have afforded them a warm welcome here; free drinks, a decent spot at the bar and the respect their name used to command. Now they were basically being tolerated.

With the drink, mixed with the speed that was coursing through their veins, they felt the cold-shoulder treatment afforded them far more acutely than it actually warranted. They were aware of how far they had sunk and, today more than usual, it really galled them. Seeing people who had once broken their necks for a glimpse of them, who had drunk with them, basking in their little bit of reflected glory, now blanking them so deliberately and, worse still, as far as they were concerned, believing that they could get away with such cuntish behaviour, psyched the two brothers up for what they knew they were going to have to do. Young Ricky was right; he was a shrewdie and no mistake. He knew the ins and outs of the cat's arse where Brodie and Spider was concerned and he had the edge on his brothers because he not only retained information, he also had the ability to put it to good use. He was a rising star all right and this shower of shite would soon realise that and mend their ways. Ricky was right, they had to do something spectacular, something audacious to get their name back where it belonged.

Tommy stared across the bar at a good-looking boy in his middle twenties. He was what they would term a lump, meaning he was bigger than the average, and could take pretty good care of himself. Tommy knew him slightly through Cain and smiling at him, he called out a greeting in a friendly manner; he would come in handy one day, he was sure. The man, a young up-and-coming Face who went by the name of Digger Trent, puffed out his thick lips in derision and shook his head slowly and deliberately, before turning his back on them. With that little gesture, he managed to convey his utter contempt for the brothers more acutely than if he had mugged them off loudly in public.

Tommy saw the width of the lad's shoulders, they were further emphasised by his bespoke leather jacket. Digger had thick dark hair, it was well cut and lay in perfect layers; he was a good-looking fellow and he knew it. He was also at the age where he wanted to progress in his chosen profession; he was collecting debts as well as working a few doors and he had no intention of letting himself be associated with a band of muppets like the Williams lot. He was confident enough in his local to feel perfectly at ease mugging off the ice-creams at the bar. They were a handful but he was confident he could take them if necessary. In fact, doing over known associates was the quickest way to make a reputation for yourself. These men were still hard enough to be chary of, but on the plus side, they were not really affiliated with anyone important any more. Digger was debating whether or not to front them up and see what occurred.

A crony of his, Louie Blackman, was not so confident and he kept a wary eye on the Williams brothers as he sipped his pint of Fosters. He was older than Digger and he knew that the Williams brothers might have fucked up over the last few years, and might well be classed as a joke, but together they were still a fucking formidable force. And when Tommy walked across to where they were standing by the juke box and he saw the glint of his glass, he stepped away as quickly as possible.

Tommy shoved his pint pot into Digger's face with all the strength he possessed. Digger had not known anything about it until the glass crunched into his cheek and eye; he was still standing with his back to the Williams brothers and Tommy had the edge because Digger had not had time to even lift his arms for protection, let alone to defend himself. He dropped to his knees like a stone and Tommy commenced stabbing him over and over again with the remains of the pint pot he had used to blind him with.

The blood was spurting everywhere and Tommy's face and obvious anger served to keep anyone there from butting in or trying to stop him. His Pringle jumper was already soaked with Digger's blood and when he was finally spent, the good-looking young man was a bloody lump lying unconscious at his feet.

Tommy spat on him, the hatred and contempt on his big moon face keeping everyone at a safe distance. Bernie was giving every one the evil eye, his fists raised threateningly. Dave had a large knife in his hand and he was brandishing it with a theatrical laugh. No one was going to step in and face that mad bastard; he looked almost maniacal as he moved about with a flourish, pointing the heavy blade at anyone who caught his eye.

The barmaid, a thin woman with saggy breasts and badly bleached hair, broke the silence as she said loudly and belligerently, 'Oh, fucking great. Just what I fucking needed. Get your arse in gear and fuck off home. I'll get an ambulance on the go, and they'll call Old Bill.'

Tommy grinned at her and she pursed her lips in annoyance. Pointing at the door she shouted in her deep voice, 'Well go on, fuck off before the filth arrive. And don't fucking come back until you have the money to replace my carpet. Look at it, the fucking thing's ruined…'

She was still ranting and raving at him as he left the hushed bar with his brother in tow, laughing and joking. Tommy walked to his car without a thought for how he must have looked; he was soaked with blood. The adrenaline was pumping now and, alongside the speed, he was rocking, he was up for anything.

'Did you see that bloke's fucking face when I had finished with him?'

Dave grinned and Bernie answered him with mock sarcasm.

'No, I was standing there with me eyes closed. 'Course I fucking saw it. Now get the fucking motor going so we can fuck off out of it. We have a lot to do today and Ricky will be wondering where we are. The last thing we need is a fucking tug by Lily Law.'

'Not one of them skanks will put us in the frame, they ain't got the fucking bottle.'

Wheelspinning on to the Whitechapel Road they drove off at speed to meet with Ricky so they could all sort out the bit of business he had arranged, and be home in time for dinner.