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Lil was loud enough for anyone who was interested to hear what had been said. She was angry enough to make the girl think twice about arguing any more. Ivana looked as if she was about to cry. Instead, she walked back to her seat and Lil rolled her eyes at the ceiling, making the older girls laugh. They knew Lil could have a row if necessary and that Ivana could find herself on the receiving end of a well-aimed punch. Like Lil, they had seen better days and understood the value of youth in their chosen occupation.

Going up to her office, Lil poured herself another drink, and as she felt the vodka taking hold she closed her eyes tightly. She had seven children ranging in age from twenty to eight and she was no better off now than she had been ten years ago. She had no money, no real job and her son was just out of prison and already hiding guns in her house. One of her twin daughters was unable to talk to her about what was bothering her and something was definitely bothering her, she knew. Her youngest children had basically been abandoned by their father, who would not even take any of her calls. The worst thing of all was that she had a terrible feeling she was pregnant again. She had drunk more than was good for her and slept with an old friend, more for the companionship and to ease her loneliness than anything else. Now she was like a young girl; terrified she had been caught out.

Life seemed to make sure she had one kick in the teeth after another. Every time Lil thought life was going to get better for her and her family, she was proved wrong. Her eldest son was home again and she could rejoice about that much at least. But Lance was once more like his shadow and even though she hid her feelings well these days, she still wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

Lil swallowed her drink down quickly and poured herself another; she had fifteen minutes before she did her weekly check on the girls for track marks. She had never ever allowed junkies to work her tables, they were aggressive, always in need of money and they aged before their time. They always tried to hustle the punter for money too quickly and that caused problems for everyone, not just the hostesses. It was a hard job in its own way, making sure the club ran smoothly, and she had been doing it for years. She had a feeling that was what was bugging her. As she poured herself another drink, Lil heard Lenny's loud voice approaching her office and she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was truly cursed.

Patrick was trying to forget that his mother was working in a hostess club and to remember that he was on the out and needed to take care of his family. Kathy and Eileen were his biggest worry. Especially Kathleen; she was not right at all and the time away had emphasised to him just how strange she had become.

'Come on, Kathleen. What's wrong, mate? You seem so sad, darling.'

She shook her head gently and Patrick knew he was not going to get anything from her. She had always been quiet but he didn't remember her as quiet as she was now. In fact, she hardly spoke unless spoken to and even then she seemed almost startled, as if she couldn't believe someone had actually spoken to her personally.

'I'm fine, Pat, really.'

She sounded sincere enough but he was still worried about her. He changed tack so she wouldn't feel intimidated by his questions. 'How's school? You doing all right?'

Kathleen nodded and he was struck again by just how much she looked like her twin, and yet when they stood side by side, she looked washed-out in comparison. Kathleen was like a cheaper version of her energetic and vivacious sister and it was because of her permanent sadness. She had a deep and abiding hurt that sat in the back of her deep-blue eyes and nothing seemed able to shift it. When Eileen was near her she seemed much more relaxed in herself and happier but when Eileen was out and about, Kathleen retreated back into herself and only Lance seemed able to get through to her.

She looked haunted and it bothered him and he couldn't understand why she was like it. Kathleen had been such a happy girl, such a chatty child. Could it really be because of what had happened all those years ago? The twins had been three years old then, so he supposed it was possible Kathleen had understood more than they had realised.

Lance came into the room with three mugs of tea balanced precariously on a small tin tray. The tray made Patrick smile, it was one they had nicked from the local pub years before because he'd liked the two little Scottie dogs on it, one black, one white, advertising a blend of Scottish whisky. He had eaten his dinner off it while watching TV so many times and seeing it now brought back buried memories of his father.

He forced them away. The past was over now and it was pointless revisiting it; he had learned that much in prison. In prison you realised that things were happening on the outside and no matter how much you cared there was
nothing
you could do about them. You were in the world but you were not
part
of it any more. Problems were suddenly huge, even the smallest, and eventually you had to come to terms with your inability to deal with them, to deal with anything that was happening in the outside world. Because you couldn't be a part of it all any more, you had no way of making it all better. He still felt that way; he felt as if he was on the outside looking in. The twins had grown up since he had been gone and little Colleen, who had been a chatty four-year-old was now a chatty eight-year-old and he knew he had missed out on a large part of her life. Christopher was a diamond but again, he didn't really know him now. And Shamus had grown from a small boy to a bruiser expelled already from school. Four years was a long time in their little lives; it was a long time in his life too. Visits were not enough to keep anyone informed of what was really happening in the family and any problems were glossed over anyway so the person banged up wouldn't worry too much. Again, the attitude was why worry them when there was nothing they could do.

Patrick watched the kids go to bed tonight and knew that they had been going to bed without him for years and it hurt him. It upset him, like Kathleen upset him. He couldn't help wondering if he might have been able to help her if he had been around. Lance, it seemed, was the person she turned to. He was a great guy and he made sure he was always there for her if she needed him. Lance was a fucking star and he knew that without him the family would have disintegrated. Especially where Kathy was concerned. He drove her places and picked her up so she didn't have to worry about getting home alone. He sat in her room with her for hours when she was in one of her depressed moods. As odd as Lance could be, he was always there when he was needed. Patrick only wished he could have been there to take some of the burden from him.

Now he was home once more and he was going to see to it that they were all taken care of and would make sure that none of then ever went without again.

And as for Brewster, he was going to have a straightener with him at some point. Sneaking around with slags and his mother still having to work the club for him. Oh, he was biding his time all right and when he finally had what he wanted, he was going to make that cunt pay through the nose for his blatant neglect of his family. Lenny was going to realise, once and for all, that he had a mission in life and that mission was to take care of his family. Even the family Lenny had provided before going on the trot. Patrick had gone away a boy and come back a man. He had experienced many things in stir and one of them was the need to take back control from people who believed they were your intellectual superior. Brewster was a cunt but he would bide his time before he forcibly pointed that fact out to him; he needed to see how the land was lying in that direction and wait until he was settled once more. It took a while to acclimatise to being on the outside and when he had sussed out all the options he would take great pleasure in distributing his own brand of retribution.

As they sipped their tea, he saw Lance look at Kathleen with a frown. Patrick knew he was as worried about her as he was himself. After all, he had been left as the eldest and had been left to take care of them all. He looked around the room; it had hardly changed since he had left it years earlier. There was the same couch, the same TV, the same carpet, the same everything except it was more dilapidated. In fact, it looked like something from a documentary on poverty in the Western world. The whole drum needed upgrading and refurnishing. It was like a doss house. But then seven kids tended to do that to furniture; it took a battering on a daily basis. Most furniture wasn't really built for large families.

As Brewster was caked up with dough it didn't seem a lot to assume that some of it might have been thrown in his mother's direction. She had needed someone to protect them when his father had been outed and he had understood her logic, even admired it. She had the sense to know they were in danger from the Williams brothers and whoever was pulling their strings. Brewster had been the obvious choice and it was the price they paid for the world they lived in.

Lenny had been all over Lil once and all over them as well; he had been the answer to their prayers after his father's death. Then one day he had just stopped coming round and his mother had been left with two more children and Patrick had been old enough by then to understand exactly what the ponce had done to her. He had taken on the mantle of breadwinner then and it had landed him in the poke. Now he was a grown man and he was not about to let anyone interfere with his family ever again. His mother had kept them together no matter what and he was determined to take the onus off her, to take the mantle of breadwinner on himself once more, as his father would have wanted him to, have expected him to. Now he had settled back in and had a working knowledge of what was going on around him, he could work out a proper plan of action at last.

'Hello, Lil.' Lenny was smiling at her and Lil noticed that his teeth had become grey since they had last talked properly. From his red flushed face to the veins across his cheeks, he looked what he was now, a drinker. Lenny was old, he was like a parody of the man he had once been. Seeing Lenny like this was awful; for all that he had done to her, she didn't wish him any ill. She had learned a long time ago that bad things happened to people soon enough; they didn't need her wishing it on them. As her mum always said, what goes around, comes around. It seemed it had come around to Lenny sooner than any of them had thought. Lil smiled easily, not letting any of her pity or her nervousness come through. She looked cool and this pleased her. 'To what do we owe this pleasure, then?'

Lenny shrugged; that annoying, heavy-shouldered shrug that gave the impression of complete indifference to whoever was talking to him at the time. She had seen him do that to so many people she had actually forgotten just how irritating he could be.

He was watching her and, he had to admit, she looked good considering her age and the fact she had birthed seven kids. But then, Lil had the kind of skin that most women would kill for, and he knew that first-hand, he had seen every inch of her.

'This is
my
club, Lil. I don't see how you can question me about coming in here, do you?'

As always, he was making a point, trying to remind her of things best left forgotten. He couldn't help himself; he had to hurt and wound, make people feel they were inferior to him. For once, Lil took the bait. After the night she'd had she was suddenly up for a row. Who did he think he was? Who did he think he was talking to?

'With respect, Len, this was actually
my
club long before it was ever yours, remember. My husband bought it many years ago and you just took it, didn't you, after he was murdered?'

Lenny was shocked at her words. Lil could have a row, he knew, but she had never brought up anything like that before. She'd never once alluded to how her husband's assets had been divvied up. He wondered now if she had ever mentioned any of those things to her sons. They were big men now and he knew they were at an age when they wanted to prove themselves. Lance was safe enough but now that Pat was home, he was getting fucking ambitious and so was this woman here, by all accounts. He would have to watch her, she was under the mistaken impression that she had something of value to say. Always a bad move where women were concerned.

'You talking to me, Lil?' He was, as always, on his dignity when he felt he was being undermined and insulted.

Lil grinned then, remembering just how awkward a bastard he could be. 'Don't you want to know how the kids are, Lenny?'

Lenny loved the question in her voice, the utter disbelief that he didn't care about her wonderful kids. He had made sure she had her work cut out; two of them at close quarters but, like all his paramours, once they had produced, he had no more interest in them.

Lenny smiled and she saw the lines on his face and the way his hair was thinning and she actually felt sorry for him. He had taken her at her lowest ebb, taken everything she had. Not just from her, but from her kids as well. Then he had given her a job in this place, the place she helped set up, and now he was loath to hand over a few quid for the kids she had given him.

'You're a piece of work, Lenny. You have two gorgeous kids and you ain't got a fucking ounce of compassion for either of them, have you?'

Lenny shook his head and laughed again, the false laugh that he really believed made him seem sophisticated, a man of the world. 'I couldn't give a flying fuck, Lil. They mean nothing to me, love. None of my kids do; the fact they arrived through a cunt speaks volumes, if you'll excuse the pun.'

He was laughing again and Lil felt the hurt once more; when he dismissed the kids like that, she knew she was capable of really harming him. She could feel her hands clenching into fists. If some of his so-called mates heard him at times she knew they would not believe their ears. He could be so hateful and so vicious and the worst thing was, he enjoyed it.

'Well, assuming your mother gave birth to you, then it stands to reason that you travelled into the world through a
cunt
yourself so at least your kids have got one thing in common with you, eh?'