The Family (6 page)

Chapter Twelve

    Ted Booth heard the bell in his shop, and walked casually out of his small office in the back. As he entered the shop he saw Phillip Murphy locking the door and turning the sign round to 'Closed'.

    'What are you doing? It's only six, I have another five hours yet till I close up.'

    Phillip smiled at him as if he had known that all along. 'Sorry, Mr Booth, but I need to talk to you.'

    Ted Booth felt his heart sinking inside his chest, and for one split second he wondered if he was on the verge of a heart attack. It wouldn't surprise him. He never felt one hundred per cent. His life was a series of minor irritations, the only things he cared about these days were his daughter and the shop. His daughter had her name up with this one here, and he wondered how long before it would all turn sour. He heard everything in this shop; it was part of his job to talk to the customers, listen to them, know their lives. He was frightened, but he tried not to show that. 'What do you want? Make it quick, I'm losing money.'

    'It's about your daughter…'

    'I worked that one out for meself.'

    'She's round my mum's, refusing to go home. Mrs Booth gave her a clump; she's bruised and battered and determined that she ain't going home.'

    Ted didn't know what to do. This boy, and he used that term loosely because he was a man in all the ways that counted, was the reason his wife was nearly out of her mind, and why his daughter was happier than she had been in years.

    'She's a child. Fifteen.'

    'She will be sixteen in three weeks and, Mr Booth, I need to tell you that she ain't in the frame of mind for going home. I told her to, me mum and dad have told her to, but she's adamant.'

    Ted sighed. This man, this boy-man, had a hold over his daughter that he knew he would never be able to break. It had already gone too far. He could offer her freedom and excitement, and that was a heady mixture for his Christine. She craved love, craved attention, and the Murphys would give her that in abundance. He knew there and then that he couldn't compete with them on that score, but he had to try.

    'I want her home, she's still legally in my jurisdiction.' Ted felt foolish even saying the words. He knew and Phillip Murphy knew that it was only a matter of weeks. Once Christine hit sixteen her life was her own. And the worst thing was that, in a strange way, he didn't blame her for what she'd done. Eileen had suffocated her all her life.

    'Well, Mr Booth, that's your prerogative. But I just want you to know that she's safe. I would want to know that if it was my daughter.' Phillip smiled his amiable, friendly smile. Then, shrugging his shoulders in a man of the world gesture, he said to change the subject, 'This is a big space, ain't it? Just out of curiosity, where do you get your alcohol? Only I know a bloke, and he could guarantee you a much better return for your money. He supplies most of the pubs and clubs around here.'

    Teddy Booth felt his heart sink even further; he knew exactly where this conversation was going.

Chapter Thirteen

    'You're bright and early.'

    Phillip was smiling at Billy Bantry, thrilled at the chance to work for a real crew. He knew he was on a winner; Billy didn't offer his time to wasters, he was a man who only employed the best. Well, Phillip wanted to be the best, and if that meant he had to be a gofer for a while then so be it. He was willing, more than willing, to learn at the knee of a master, and Billy Bantry was a master.

    'I can't believe I'm here, Mr Bantry. It's an honour, and I mean that.'

    He was sincere, Bantry knew that. He had done his homework on Phillip Murphy and had been proved right. The lad was willing and he was able, more than able, in fact, to take care of himself. He was a lump, but that in itself meant nothing to Billy Bantry. He had taken on bigger men than Phillip and won the war. It was never about size, physical strength, that is. It was about mental strength. The determination to harm your opponent no matter what. Bantry had always been possessed of a cold streak, even as a kid, and he had a big presence, which was more important in his line of work than anything. He was amazed to find that he actually liked this kid, liked his heart. He appreciated that he had come to him quietly and with the least amount of fuss. Lisa Mercer was a nice enough girl, but for Barclay to even think about taking out her and the child was beyond the pale as far as he was concerned. His own child and all! Barclay had had no qualms about offing his own fucking baby. Well, he was now the proud possessor of a pair of cement boots. His disappearance might cause a stir for a few weeks, but unless someone decided to dredge the North Sea, he wasn't likely to be turning up any time in the near future. It suited Bantry; Barclay was becoming a pest anyway, a nuisance, so a valid reason to remove him from the arena was always going to be handy. Plus he had the added bonus of doing his old mate a favour. Lisa's old man would never forget what Billy had done for him, and he wouldn't let him either. Everyone got out one day, and they were always welcome so long as they had something to bring to the table.

    'Aren't you going to ask me what happened, then?'

    Phillip was too shrewd to fall for that old fanny, but he kept his face neutral and feigned surprise. 'I don't care, Mr Bantry, it's nothing to do with me, is it?'

    Billy Bantry laughed, a rare, real laugh. 'You'll do. I want you out collecting with Keith Kenton. He's big and quiet and he knows more about the grab than anyone else in the Smoke. He's expecting you at the Bricklayers' Arms in Hornchurch. Be there by lunchtime.'

    He saw the confusion on Phillip's face and he laughed once more. 'Rule number one, son. Always sort business out on neutral ground. Never talk money on the premises. Demand the money, yes, but never drink in a place you're earning from, it causes bad feeling. Can often be misconstrued as a piss-take. Let's face it, going in and collecting is one thing, sitting around all day on the piss and reminding them of your primary function is something else entirely. That causes bad feeling. I like it all to be low key: in, collect and out. Now, have you any questions?'

    Phillip shook his head.

    'Good. Now fuck off and get on the earn.'

Chapter Fourteen

    Veronica heard the hammering on her front door, and sighed heavily. This time she knew exactly who it was going to be. She walked up the hallway slowly and opened the door as if it was a normal caller, someone she wanted to find on her doorstep. Instead, she looked into Eileen Booth's face and smiled sadly. 'Come in quietly, let's leave the screaming and the shouting for the young ones. Don't be making a show of yourself for the neighbours. I'll make a pot of tea.'

    Eileen Booth was so furious she thought her head would explode. This woman was acting as if this was
normal
, as if young girls walked out on their families and their lives every day of the week. Was she mentally deficient or something? Couldn't she see how her heart was broken with it all? Did she think that to lose your only child to a family of heathens was not something she should be worried about? Couldn't she understand the fear a mother felt when a teenage child made such potentially devastating decisions without realising the consequences of them? She rounded on the culprit standing before her, the person she saw as responsible. The woman she felt was taking her child from her.

    'Have a cup of tea! Are you having a laugh with me? All I want is me daughter.' The refined voice was gone, all pretence washed away; she was showing her East-End roots. Eileen Booth wanted her daughter and was determined she was
not
leaving without her.

    Veronica Murphy looked her antagonist over slowly, deliberately, and with hate in her heart at the woman's assumption that the Murphy family was not good enough to mix with her brood. She took a deep breath and said haughtily, 'Come inside, woman, for Christ's sake. Don't do this on the doorstep like some old slapper. My neighbours are very respectable people. They don't need to be subjected to this. Have you no shame?'

    Eileen was so incensed at Veronica's words that she drew her arm back to strike. It was the worst thing she could have ever contemplated. Veronica grabbed her adversary by the throat, her hand like a vice, and dragged the taller woman into the hallway none too gently. She kicked the door shut behind her and, pushing the distraught woman roughly towards the kitchen, she shrieked, 'As God is my witness, you have driven me fecking demented! One more word and I'll annihilate you where you stand, lady. No wonder your daughter doesn't want to be around you! On the few occasions I've met you, it's took all me willpower not to knock your fucking brains in meself. You think you're better than everyone else, don't you? Well, I have news for you, you're not. Now, I think you had better relax, lady, before this gets out of hand. Believe me, I am two seconds away from giving you a serious clump.'

    Veronica wasn't sure who was shocked the most, Eileen Booth, who was suddenly very quiet, or she herself at her reaction. She still felt the urge to wring Eileen's scrawny neck, really lay into her. This wasn't like her at all; Veronica had mellowed with age, there was a time when she would have wiped the floor with this one from the off and never given it a moment's thought. But it was good to know that she was still capable of a fight should the need arise.

    'I want my daughter, and I am not leaving without her.'

    Veronica was tired suddenly. She could see Eileen's dilemma better than anyone; after all, she had been there herself. 'Well, in that case you should have packed a bag, because you'll be here for a while. She won't go home, and it's not for want of us lot trying. I
know
she should be with you, I ain't a complete fool, but if you can't see how your actions have driven that child away then I don't know what to tell you.'

    Veronica understood Eileen Booth's complete bewilderment. But she also knew that this woman had not exactly helped the situation. If anything she had only made it worse. If she had just tried to give a little leeway, but that was not her style. Like Veronica had believed with Breda, this stupid woman thought she could tell her daughter what to do. Well, those days were long gone, girls these days had choices. And like many a girl before them, their age practically guaranteed they would make the wrong ones. Always the wrong ones. It was a pattern that seemed to come with hormones and breasts. Overnight they looked like women, but that didn't mean they were.

    The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Eileen Booth knew that she was beaten. Knew that this woman had her daughter's trust, her daughter's respect. Her face crumpled, her hurt and fear for her daughter shining through her heavy make-up. 'I only ever wanted what was best for her, that's all. I wanted her to have a chance in life. The chance to make something of herself. The way you all act you'd think I was trying to fucking hurt her. She's still a child.' It was the plaintive cry of many a woman before her. It was the cry of a woman who was not only at the end of her tether, but also of a woman who had finally run out of options. She was defeated, and she knew it.

    Veronica brought her through to the kitchen and sat her in a chair. She made the pot of tea quietly, aware that the best thing she could do now was let this woman get it out of her system. Let her have her say, let her expend her hatred on her, a stranger. Veronica didn't care, knew this had to happen at some point, and personally she would rather it happened sooner rather than later. It was pointless delaying the inevitable.

    As she listened to the vitriol of the woman before her, her mind wandered to her own feelings for Breda who had been uncontrollable at thirteen, let alone fifteen. It was hard to admit, but Veronica knew it was not something she could have ever prevented. It was just Breda's way, she had always been a law unto herself. She had seemed unaware of how her actions affected the people around her, nor had she cared how her behaviour was received. Whereas Eileen's daughter was only rebelling against her
mother-
nothing else - but Veronica wasn't about to say that just yet. With Breda it had been different, she had just wanted her own life, her own sex life anyway. Veronica placed a mug of tea in front of the woman she knew she would never find it in her heart to ever like.

    Eileen was looking around the kitchen, impressed despite herself at the grandeur of the surroundings; it was the last thing she had expected, if she was honest with herself. In spite of her anger she felt a grudging respect for Veronica Murphy. The place was spotless, well decorated and had top of the range appliances. In Eileen's world that was all that mattered. Top show, as her mother used to say. Well, as far as she was concerned, how you lived was important; she knew that from years of being ashamed of her home, of her parents and their preference for drink, bingo and the attitude that it was enough just to make a living. She had wanted far more than that. And yet her dream of respectability had not made her any happier. How ironic was I hat?

    'Look, Eileen - can I call you Eileen? - Christine is terrified of you and what you did to her. She's at school now, she hasn't missed a day, but you have to believe that this was her choice, not mine. I never wanted this on my doorstep, why the feck would I? My Phillip might not be what you want for your daughter, but he's what
she
wants, and she seems to be what
he
wants. If you want my advice, swallow your anger and try and talk her round. Try and see it from her point of view, like. Kids have all sorts of rights these days, didn't I find that out meself with my Breda? The shame and degradation of that one, up and pregnant and still at school, and the social workers behind her, all on her side, acting like what she had done was normal! I didn't even have a say in the end. I watched her nearly destroy herself, but my opinions counted for nothing. So you are preaching to the fecking converted. What I want is for you and Christine to sort yourselves out.'

    Eileen felt she could sympathise with the woman now. She could hear the genuine sorrow in her voice. Coupled with the knowledge that Veronica was capable of giving her a serious clump should she feel the urge, Eileen Booth felt it best to retreat on this occasion and try and make some kind of concession. After all, this was the Murphys they were talking about, and their name was a byword for villainy and assertiveness around these parts. So sipping the tea she said sadly, 'I only wanted what was best for her, Mrs Murphy, and this is how she repays me? The treacherous little mare.'

    This was more like it, this was language she could understand. Veronica flapped her hand in agreement. 'Sure, they all think they know what's best for them! But I tell you, if they only knew the truth of love and marriage, they would think twice about it. I know I would.' She was telling the woman what she wanted to hear.

    Eileen Booth latched on to the woman's words as if they were a lifeline. 'That's what I've been trying to tell her. There's plenty of time for all that. She has a brain in her head, my Christine. She could make something of herself, make her life worth something. Ten years from now she could have the job of her dreams, the qualifications to take her anywhere she wanted to go in the world. But at the moment she just wants him, can only see
him,
him and his handsome face. And I mean that with no disrespect, but she wants him before she understands what life is
really
about. Before the disappointment and the regrets set in.'

    Veronica sighed, suddenly sorry for this woman, so deeply sorry 'Those two seem intent on doing what they want. He thinks the world of her, I can tell you that much. I've never seen him like this before.'

    'She'll be tied down with a posse of kids before she's twenty, and by twenty-five she'll be worn out with child-bearing, and her future will be settled once and for all. But will she listen to me? 'Course not. When she's got a belly full of stretchmarks, and she's robbing Peter to pay Paul to get from one week to the next, she'll wish she'd listened to me, but by then it'll be too late.'

    Veronica Murphy didn't answer her, she didn't know what to say. The truth, as she knew herself, often hurt. And this was one of those times.