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'All right, Lil?'

Ivana came into the office with a mug of coffee and, placing it on the desk, sat down and slipped off her high heels. As she twiddled her toes, she groaned with pleasure.

'I'm getting too old for these shoes and too old for all that standing around.'

Lil laughed. 'You'll still be going in twenty-five years like me.'

'Oh, don't say that, Lil. I'm depressed enough as it is!'

They laughed together once more. It amazed Lil that there had been a time when she had really not liked this girl because now she loved her. Pat had kept her on a string for so many years and she had sat it out. Lil had eventually admired her and then found she liked her. Once she had gone away for a few weeks and Lil had then found that she actually
missed
her. Life was strange, it threw you a curve when you least expected it.

'Who's got the baby?'

The baby was twelve years old but she was still referred to as the baby by everyone.

'She's staying at Isabel's.'

Lil relaxed then; Isabel was one of the hostesses who had married out of the job but still kept in contact with Ivana; they were close friends. Isabel was happy to babysit; she had three of her own anyway so young Georgia was actually a help. She loved bathing the kids, playing with them and reading them stories. She was so like Colleen it was frightening at times. Everyone had noticed it but no one had ever had the guts to mention it. But she was watched over by them all, and watched closely.

'Eileen was on the phone earlier. I couldn't make head nor tail out of what she was saying. But she was crying.'

Lil shrugged, the trademark shrug that had seen her through all the trials and tribulations of her life, and said sadly, 'It's the anniversary soon, Colleen, and then we've got poor Pat's birthday…'

Ivana nodded. 'I know.'

Ivana was still beautiful and looked much younger than she actually was. Her extreme thinness had turned to a pleasant plumpness after the baby had been born and she was still tiny, but not so gaunt looking. Pat was still with her and he was still out and about when the fancy took him. Lil was sorry about that but she kept out of it. Ivana seemed able to cope with it, so who was she to butt her nose in where it wasn't wanted? It grieved her though. She could see the sadness behind Ivana's eyes at times, and she wished she could do something to alleviate it.

'Forty, eh? How does it feel to have a forty-year-old son?'

Lil grinned then, her face screwed up in mock horror.

'Well, I've had fucking better days!'

Ivana was laughing with her when Pat walked into the office with Lance. The atmosphere was automatically charged, it was always the same when Lance was there. He seemed to bring upset with him wherever he went.

The air in the room was almost electric and Lil and Pat looked at each other warily as Ivana made herself scarce. Lance had never once spoken to her directly and even though he had not said one word to her, she was more than aware of his opinion of her.

Paulie Brick walked into the house and looked around him warily. Eileen was capable of launching herself at him from a hiding place. She was a handful when she was drunk and, unfortunately, that was most of the time.

He regretted shouting at her earlier but she made him so angry at times that he could often strangle her without a second's thought. He walked through to the state-of-the-art kitchen and saw the glass everywhere. And on the granite work surface he noticed the remains of her cocaine and the screw top from the whisky bottle.

He sighed. He had noticed the car was gone but guessed she was in the house somewhere; she never seemed to stay out for any length of time. She preferred to stay home and get wasted. He wondered if the car was still in one piece and hoped that if she had crashed it, she wasn't hurt again. Last time she had been so out of it she had not even noticed a broken wrist.

He heard the faint sound of music and rushed upstairs to the master bedroom. She was lying on the bed. It had been left unmade for days and she was listening to Dionne Warwick; that meant she was even more depressed than usual.

As she sang 'walk on by' to herself, she noticed her husband was in the room with her.

'Hello, darling, come and lay with me.'

She was a good drunk now and he smiled at her tenderly. He loved her like no other and each day, as she attempted to destroy herself a little bit more, his heart broke.

He lay down beside her. Her hair needed a good wash, her clothes were crumpled, and her breath was atrocious. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw the guilt and the bewilderment that had attracted him in the first place. He had believed all those years ago that he could make her better. But he couldn't, no one could.

'Don't leave me, darling. Please don't ever leave me, will you? I'd die, see. I would, I'd just die without you…' She was slurring her words and he knew she would have no recollection of anything by the morning, but he held her tight and reassured her of his love and devotion.

'Don't you go and walk on by. I'd kill meself, I would. Do you think Colleen was walking somewhere, eh? Walking
by
someone…'

She was rambling now. He knew all the stages of her drunkenness; the next step was when she fell asleep, unconscious would be a more apt expression, and then he would lie there and watch her, wondering when this would all fucking end. He was tired of it, so bloody tired.

'I ain't got to answer to you or
her
for that matter.'

'No one said you did, Lance. You want to walk away from this firm, then you go. No one's going to stop you and
her,
as you referred to our mother, has as much right to question you as I do.'

Lance looked at his older brother with his usual disdain.

'I can work where I like and with whom I like.'

Pat walked towards him then and, looking him in the eye, he said loudly, 'But that's just it, Lance, you can't. You can't fucking go round with your mate Barker threatening people we are in partnership with. What kind of fucking stupidness is that? If they owe money to Barker then let him go and pull it in; you ain't got no fucking allegiance to that cunt. No one has; he's a standing joke, a by-word for liars and thieves. He's one leg up from a fucking gas-meter bandit and it's a wonder he ain't out there kiting, he is such a fucking twonk!'

Lance ran his hands through his hair and laughed nastily. 'He could fucking buy and sell you, mate.'

Lil had heard enough and, getting up from her chair, she pushed Pat out of the way and bellowed, 'How dare you! You're nothing but a fucking leech. If you think that by going around with that ponce and threatening people in their own homes with their kids there, that we will walk you out of that one, you can think again, boy. We've put the word out and if anyone wants to come back at you, they
can.
And you tell
Donny
from me, that if I ever see him again, I'll fucking dismantle him meself. And you know me, Lance. I am more than capable of doing that, if the fancy takes me.'

'Oh, here we go, you telling me what to do as usual. You don't mind me breaking heads when it suits you two, do you?'

Lil started laughing then. Really laughing. A sad, almost heartbroken laugh that was as insulting to him as it was making the guilt inside him unbearable.

'Of course we don't mind
you
doing that, it's what we
pay
you for, it's what you do in this family. Let's face it, you don't do fuck all else.'

Pat pulled her away and walked her back to her seat.

'Mum! Sit down and let's sort this out, shall we?'

Lil was not in the mood. Lance's complete disinterest in what they were trying to say to him had finished her. She wanted him out now and she was not bothered who got hurt by it, least of all Lance.

'Fuck him, Pat; if he thinks that he can do that without any kind of comeback, then let him go. Let him go and work with Donny Barker. Only he would be silly enough to fucking contemplate that. Everyone else gives him a wide berth but then most people do the same thing with
him,
don't they, Lance?'

Pat was annoyed now. His mother was making matters worse.

'Mum. Just shut up a minute, will you?'

She lit a cigarette, one of the few she smoked these days, and it was a sure sign of her agitation.

'No, I fucking won't shut up. I have wanted to say this for a long time. He mugs us all off and we let him. When I heard you had threatened the Chapmans in their own home for a few fucking grand, money that Donny had creamed off their boy, I was so ashamed and so fucking embarrassed that I nearly died. They didn't owe him a bean, their
boy
did and he owed a few hundred, that was all. Donny makes up half his debts and you, like the fucking div you are, go in there with him and do his dirty work. Half the debts he buys are not even valid. He fucking snows you and then he takes the piss out of you. Ask around. He thinks he is a big man because he has a fucking Brodie as a pet. Well, Lance, you've been warned before and you ain't took a blind bit of notice. This time it's for real, this time I am going to sort you out once and for all. It's over.'

Lance had never heard her like this before; she never spoke to him unless she had to. He had always used that against her, knowing that her guilt over him and the way she treated him had kept him in good stead all his life.

'Look at you. I remember when you hurt Janie's little girl, bless her heart. You were a fucking bully then and you're a fucking bully now. And it stops tonight, Lance. It finally fucking stops.'

Lance was staring at his mother as if he had never seen her before. In all the years he had worked with his family, she had never said so much to him at one time. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having a conversation with her in his life. Pat could see the hurt his brother was experiencing; he knew that whatever had happened, he actually loved this woman who had never once given him a kind word.

'She don't mean that, Lance. She's annoyed, we both are…'

'Oi! Patrick Brodie, don't you dare talk for me. I am just about at the end of my patience with him, and
you,
come to that. I heard whispers about him years ago and I swallowed. But not any more. I have to say this now while I still have the chance. My cancer is back and I will not go to my grave regretting that I didn't finally tell this fucking nutter what I really thought of him and his fucking carrying-on. I've left you nothing, Lance, not a brass razoo; so now you know. My mother took you the second you were born and you've been hers ever since because I
never
wanted you. Even as a baby you were fucking weird,
unnatural.
And, God forgive me, when my Colleen went missing I wished it had been you. I would have given my own life to swap her for you. I blamed you, for years I blamed you, Lance, and I don't know why. It was an instinct, a feeling I had, everything that went wrong I always felt that, somehow, it came back to you.'

'Fucking hell, Mum, that's enough!'

Patrick was in such shock at her tirade that it was only after she had sat down and lit another cigarette that he remembered her saying her cancer was back. That was why she was smoking again and drinking brandy; it was her painkiller, always had been.

Lance was still staring at her. His face was devoid of any emotion. 'You really hate me, don't you?' His voice was low and without any inflection whatsoever.

'Hate? I don't hate you, Lance. Hate is not a strong enough word for how I feel.'

Patrick was appalled at his mother's words, yet he knew she had cause. Lance had always been an outsider and even as kids he had never really felt like a part of the family. He had been eaten up with anger and hate all his life.

Patrick had only protected him through guilt, the guilt he felt because his mother had loved him with a passion. All her kids had felt that love at some time but not Lance, and that had shaped his life. It was as if they had danced around each other for all those years and they were living a lie and everything that had happened to them was just leading up to this moment in time.

The door opened and Scanlon was standing there looking at them. The atmosphere in the room was heavy with hatred and belated honesty. It was almost physical, it felt almost as if it could be touched, it was so charged with emotion.

'What the fuck do
you
want?'

Scanlon took a deep breath and, looking at Lil Brodie, he said sadly, 'They've found a body.'

It was a few moments before Lil realised the enormity of what the man had said.

Chapter Thirty

Scanlon had finally arrived at the house. He had been dreading this, and yet he knew the news was better coming from him. They had waited up all night for him, and he knew that what he said and how he said it, would be remembered for a long time to come. Patrick ushered him into the lounge and he said hello to everyone as respectfully as he could. All the children were there, and he could feel the nervousness coming off everyone in the room.

Lil didn't waste any time on pleasantries. Is it her?'

Scanlon nodded. 'I am afraid so.'

'You're sure?'

He nodded once again, his face full of genuine sorrow. 'Her uniform was the marker, it was still more or less intact. Her schoolbag was also buried with her…'

Lil nodded as if she understood perfectly, when she didn't understand anything at all. Someone had buried her child somewhere, buried her school bag beside her and no one had known where she was until now.

'What happened to her? Do they know?'

Scanlon nodded once more, desperately sorry for the woman sitting on the large leather chair, who was hoping against hope that it was all a mistake and her daughter was alive somewhere, living a good life.

He looked at Patrick and Lance, sitting side by side on the sofa. They were both as shell-shocked as their mother. They were so alike, yet so different.