Revenge (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Josephine was happier than she had been for a very long time. She was still pregnant, and she was still the only person who knew about it. She was not going to tell anyone until she had to. She had let everyone down so many times in the past, she wasn’t going to chance it again. The pain of each loss became more acute – it never lessened. Everyone she saw would give her clichés and pity. It was the pity she hated the most. She could feel this baby inside of her every minute of every day. She felt different this time, she was convinced of that. It felt right somehow. It was her secret to keep, this was her own private happiness. Her silence meant no one was watching her every move, questioning every expression on her face, asking if she was feeling ill, or if she was off-colour, telling her to sit down or lie down as if she was dying or something, searching her face constantly for the first signs of pain, followed by the miscarriage they had been expecting all along. No one forcing her to rest, or sitting with her so she never had any time on her own. It was wearing having so many people caring for you, tiring trying to be upbeat and constantly pretending that you weren’t terrified of losing yet another baby down the toilet. This was so much better for her. This was far more relaxing.

She rubbed her belly gently, caressing her child and hoping that this time she might actually get the chance to hold this one in her arms.

Michael’s mother was the real bugbear; she felt the woman almost wished the losses on her daughter-in-law. She was a vicious old bitch who saw Michael as hers and no one else’s. A child, a
living
child, would cement their marriage and she believed that was something Hannah didn’t want. She felt awful even thinking it, but it was the truth.

She heard Michael’s car as it crunched on to the driveway. He was early; she had not even thought about any dinner for them – not that he would care, of course.

She could hear him as he walked around the side of the house – he always came through the back door. It was a running joke between them. He said it was his council-house upbringing: out through the front door and in through the back.

Josephine automatically put the kettle on. He always expected a cup of tea. They had become so predictable. She wondered if that was because they had not been blessed with a child yet. A child didn’t allow for such routine. It was the reason why people could never make plans, or guarantee their days. A child was also the reason why people like them got married in the first place.

‘Good girl, I’m dying for a cuppa.’

Josephine plastered a smile on her face. Then, turning to her husband, she said as gaily as she could, ‘Name me one time you have ever come in this house and not had a welcoming cup of tea. It’s me job, isn’t it? It’s what I live for, Michael, catering to your every whim!’

He laughed with her and felt himself relax. It was hard sometimes; Josephine could be sensitive. He adored her with a passion, but he knew that she felt the absence of a child acutely. She would never believe he didn’t care either way. She was a very beautiful woman, and she was the only woman he had ever wanted – ever would want. If only she could believe it.

‘I want my whims catered to, Josephine. I think you can cater to them tonight, actually,’ he said teasingly.

She poured them both out mugs of tea and looked at him assessingly. ‘I think I can just about manage that, Michael, if you’re good.’

Michael grinned, happy his wife was so cheerful. He wished he felt the same, but all the worry about Patrick was getting to him. He sat down at the kitchen table wearily, and waited for Josephine to bring him his tea. She sat down beside him, and he smiled gently at her. The kitchen table seated eight people comfortably, it could accommodate ten at a push. It was scrubbed pine and, like everything else in the house, tasteful, expensive, and underused.

They had bought this house with such high hopes and, gradually, those hopes had been shattered. Now the house felt too big for the two of them. It seemed to scream loneliness, and it never felt cosy any more. But it was the only home they knew, and leaving it would be like admitting they had failed, and accepting they would never have a child. If, and when, they moved out it would have to be Josephine’s choice – never his. It could only be her decision.

She was so pretty, he never tired of looking at her. Suddenly, he noticed that she looked different somehow. ‘You look like you’re putting on a bit of weight, girl.’

Josephine was pleased at his words. It meant she was doing everything a pregnant woman should do. She really wanted to share the news with him, but she knew she couldn’t. They had been there so many times before. If she lost this baby at least he wouldn’t have to grieve with her again.

‘I think I have actually, Michael. But I’m pleased about it. I lost so much weight after the last baby. I think this means I am finally getting back to normal, eh?’

Michael felt so sad. He understood how hard it was for her to mention anything about the babies she had lost.

‘You always look good to me, Josephine, you know that. But I think you’re right, mate.’

Josephine sipped her tea, then she changed the subject quickly. ‘Did you manage to talk to Patrick?’

Michael scowled angrily. ‘Don’t go there, Josephine. He’s lost the fucking plot. He’s always been a bit touched, as you know. That is why he’s so successful. He has an air of controlled violence, and no one in their right fucking mind would ever want to cross him. But that’s gone now. He is fucking strange. Even Declan is fed up with him.’

Josephine had expected as much. She had seen Patrick for herself, and she had sussed out that he was not firing on all cylinders. He was acting stranger by the day. Carmel was at her wit’s end. She wasn’t able to cope with the man he had become.

‘Carmel told me that he doesn’t ever sleep now. He paces the house all night long. The girls are terrified of him. Poor Assumpta feels responsible. Carmel told me that two nights ago he was nearly arrested. He walked into their local off-licence and threatened the bloke behind the counter – accused him of following him. It was only the fact that the local Filth were aware of who he was that saved him from being nicked. They rang Carmel and she had to go and get him. She said he was like a maniac. She’s scared of him, what he’s capable of.’

Michael had already heard that story from Declan. Patrick had never been the full shilling, but he was now ninety pence short of a fucking pound. It was amazing how much he had deteriorated in the last few weeks. ‘Declan told me the story. But he also said that Patrick has lost it before. He’s had what the doctors called a “psychotic break” on more than one occasion, just never as pronounced as this. In fact, according to Declan, Patrick has been under a fucking shrink since he was a little kid! He has been as mad as a fucking brush since junior school. As you can imagine, I was thrilled to bits to hear about that at this late stage.’

Michael was baffled by Patrick, and he didn’t know what to do about him. This was something that no one could ever have planned for. Now, though, it was here, and it needed sorting out. Declan, as per usual, was leaving the real work to Michael. He didn’t want his brother’s latest escapade to become common knowledge. He also didn’t want to have to sort his brother out personally. He didn’t want any responsibility at all – especially the kind that involved him having to make decisions about his older brother. But that was understandable in a way.

‘Patrick needs to be put away somewhere – for his own good, let alone everyone else’s. He is so fucking far gone, Josephine, I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. People are already talking about him. He has picked fights with men who we have dealt with for years, accused them of all sorts. These are hard men, but they’re not fucking stupid. They can see first-hand that Patrick Costello is a dangerous fuck. He always was – granted – but now he looks and sounds like a fucking card-carrying looney. It can’t go on, can it? I have to do whatever is needed to sort this situation out.’

Josephine understood that Michael was unloading his worries on to her. He had always used her as his sounding board – she knew she was the only person he trusted enough to speak so openly to. It helped that she often told him what she knew he wanted to hear.

Josephine shook her head sadly. ‘No, you’re right, it can’t go on, Michael. Patrick needs someone to take the reins for a while, give him time to sort his head out, look after everything so no one can take advantage of him. Only you can do that for him, Michael. You run everything anyway – everyone knows that. Patrick obviously needs specialist help, and I know Carmel would welcome any support she could get. Reading between the lines, I think she would leave him if it was possible. But you and I both know that is never going to happen. He would see her dead first.’

Michael nodded his agreement. Josephine spoke the truth: Carmel was living on borrowed time. He pulled her from her chair, and on to his lap. He squeezed her to him, enjoying the familiar feel of her body against his. He loved the smell of her hair – she was always so fresh and clean. Even now, without any make-up on, she was still a really good-looking woman. He could feel the extra weight she had gained, and he was happy about that. She had been so thin after losing the last baby. He had been worried about her, but he had known from past experience that she didn’t need to be constantly reminded of what had happened. Or question if it could have been avoided somehow. She just carried on as usual – it was her way of coping. But he knew that she grieved inside, that she hurt much more than she would ever have admitted to him or anyone else. He just respected her wishes, and he let her cope in the only way she knew how. If she cried in the night, he held her, comforted her. But, other than that, he played along with her, and pretended nothing had happened.

‘I can feel love handles, Josephine! I think you might be getting fat!’

She laughed delightedly at his words. ‘I eat lots of chocolate when I’m on my own. I put on a nice sad film, and then I break out the Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut!’

He liked hearing her sounding so happy again. It felt as if she was almost back to normal again. He hoped so. He missed her when she was grieving. It was mad really – all the money he earned, and all the love she had inside her, and they couldn’t have the one thing that they really wanted. The one thing
she
really wanted. Then there was Assumpta, who was carrying a child she really didn’t want. Any other father would have seen it aborted, for no other reason than the girl was a fucking idiot and no one in their right mind would trust her with a baby. She had enough trouble stringing a coherent sentence together. It was so unfair.

He sighed, and hugged his lovely wife tightly to him. As his mum always said, if it was meant to be, then it would happen for them. He wanted it to happen not just because his Josephine deserved it, but because he would finally feel she had everything he had promised her all those years ago, when they were just starting out and life still held endless possibilities. She had never asked for anything, she had always been there for him, and he knew how lucky he was in that way. Nothing he could ever do would change her feelings for him, she loved him without any strings, or any kind of expectations.

She was his world, and that would never change.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Carmel Costello looked awful, but for once she didn’t care. This wasn’t about her – this was about her husband.

‘Assumpta, will you please shut up! If he hears you carrying on again he will be up here on top of us. Just ignore him.’

Assumpta knew that her mother was talking sense, but her father’s shouting was getting too much now. It had been going on for hours. ‘Just make him shut up, Mum, please make him stop! He’s giving me a headache.’

Carmel grabbed her daughter’s wrists tightly. The girl was getting hysterical, and she didn’t blame her. Nevertheless, this was something her daughter had brought on herself – had brought on them all with her behaviour. Carmel’s job was to emphasise to her daughter the seriousness of what was actually going on.

‘Listen to me, girl, and you better listen good. That man down there is not in his right mind. He is capable of
really
hurting us. You know that he cannot be talked to when he is like this. If I thought I could calm him down don’t you think I would have been down there hours ago? I’m the one person who has ever been allowed to disagree with him, and that’s only when he lets me. Right now, he is beyond reason and if you don’t shut the fuck up, he will be up here like an avenging angel and then we will really be in trouble.’

Assumpta was truly terrified now. Her father had been ranting without pause for hours on end, and it wasn’t going to let up any time soon.

‘Just keep quiet, let him get it out of his system, and hope to God that it’s sooner rather than later.’

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Declan was tired out. It was the third time in twenty-four hours that Carmel had rung him to come and help with Patrick. If only Patrick would agree to go into hospital. But he was adamant that he was not going to do
that
again.

He was so fucking paranoid. He was convinced that everyone was plotting against him. It was like dealing with a six-foot toddler, who had no intention of doing anything other than exactly what they wanted.

‘Please, Patrick, will you just let me speak for a few minutes?’

Patrick was still manic. Declan could see the toll the lack of sleep was having on his brother. He had seen him like this before, but never this bad. He was all over the place, unable to relax for even a few minutes. It was pitiful to watch him.

‘I don’t need to do fucking
anything
, Declan. I know that you will just talk shite to me again. I’m telling you what I’ve told you over and over: I am
not
going into a hospital. I don’t
need
to go into a hospital. What I need is to sort things out. What I
need
is to fucking finally remove the people who are standing in my way. Don’t you get it? I am surrounded by cunts, absolute cunts.’

Declan sighed. This was going to go on for a while. Carmel wanted to have him sectioned but she was too frightened to be the person to orchestrate that. She wanted Declan to do it and who could blame her?

He knew he
should
do it. It was in all their interests – especially Patrick’s – but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to put his brother away. It was never going to happen. But seeing him like this was almost as bad. All his life Patrick had been on the borderline, but he had always managed to eventually control himself. His strength of mind was awesome. Patrick had always been very unpredictable but, in the past, he had accepted that about himself. He had understood his own weaknesses and fought to bring them under some kind of control.

It was finding out about his daughters that had tipped him over the edge this time. Declan had heard the rumours about them – especially Assumpta. More than a few people had seen fit to put him wise about his nieces and their lifestyles. The men who had approached him had been sensible enough to know that if Patrick ever got wind of his daughters’ antics there would be hell to pay, and they had wanted Patrick to curb his girls before something like this happened. Declan had listened to the gossip, but he had no intention of telling his brother anything.

Carmel hadn’t connected with her girls once they had grown up. In Declan’s opinion, she was incapable of any real connection with anybody – she was too selfish, too self-absorbed. As long as the girls were well dressed, and their make-up was perfect, she didn’t care about anything else. It wasn’t that she didn’t love them in her own way, it was more down to Carmel’s inability to show interest in anyone other than herself. He had never liked her, but he had to admit she did do her best for Patrick. He believed that, in her own way, she loved him – at least as much as she was capable of loving anyone other than herself.

His brother was talking to himself and some of his mutterings were sending chills through Declan’s body.

‘I know that we have got to take Ozzy Harper out, Declan. We’ll go over to his house tonight, and just shoot him, end of. Quick, clean and neat. It will send a message to everyone then. All the people who have been running me down, slagging me off, taking me for a cunt, will know that they are living on borrowed fucking time. They’ll realise that, eventually, I will get round to them as well – and I will do just that, Declan. I swear on our mother’s fucking grave. I will take them out, each and every one.’

Patrick was deadly serious, and Declan was appalled. He smiled at his brother, aware that he had to talk him out of this lunacy. It was getting far too fucking dangerous. He was actually contemplating killing a man they had known all their lives, who was a real friend, a decent bloke – and a hard man in his own right.

‘I think Ozzy is away, Patrick. I heard he was in Spain. He has a gaff out there, remember? In Marbella. We’ve stayed there many times.’

Patrick’s eyes were darting everywhere. Declan knew his brother was now wondering if
he
could be trusted. Patrick’s paranoia was getting worse by the minute. He had to sort this out before Patrick really went postal. Imagine if Patrick had decided to kill someone, and no one was with him to talk him out of it! It could literally cause fucking murders. Or what if his brother took against Carmel or his girls again? He was more than capable of killing them – he had killed before, after all. Only then, he had planned it out beforehand, and it had been nothing more than a means to an end. Now it was just an idea that popped into his head, and he felt honour bound to see it through to the bitter end.

Patrick was confused. ‘Are you sure that Ozzy is away, Declan?’

Declan nodded. He glanced around his brother’s office, saw that the door was closed and the French windows locked tight. He knew Carmel and the girls were upstairs, prisoners in their own home.

‘Why don’t we go and meet Michael? He will know for definite where Ozzy is. That way we can be sure, can’t we? Michael always keeps tabs on everyone, it’s in his nature.’

Declan picked up the phone on the desk casually, and rang Michael’s house. He explained quickly and loudly that Patrick wanted to kill Ozzy, but no one was sure if he was in Spain at the moment, so could Michael please meet them at their old offices at the scrapyard. That way they could talk it over together, and plan what they were going to do about it. The scrapyard was the best place because, as Patrick said, all their other offices were bugged.

At the other end of the line, Michael listened to Declan quietly. He could hear the desperation in his voice, and understood that Patrick was obviously completely out of control now.

He kissed Josephine gently on the lips and left her curled up on the sofa watching TV. ‘I won’t be long, darling. I have to pop out for a while.’

Josephine was used to her husband’s odd hours. She smiled her goodbyes. ‘See you later, Michael. Try not to be gone all night.’

He didn’t answer her.