The Life (14 page)

There was clearly trouble between the brothers right now, and she didn’t want to know the basis of it all. She had weathered this kind of thing before, many times. But, deep down, she feared this time was different.

Daniel had obviously caused some really serious aggravation. Peter and Ria had not crossed their front door for weeks, Theresa was tight-lipped and didn’t have a decent word to
throw at her youngest son, and the tension was getting too much for Lena. The boys could sense it too and she suspected the older two at least probably knew more than she did. She hated it when there was any kind of discord, and she could feel the atmosphere all around her like a heavy weight, draining all her strength.

Ria sounded like a bundle of nerves when she called her, and Imelda too, who was ringing her regularly, was the same. She was close to Imelda, and she loved Ria – she loved them all – but she would always put her husband first. Before anyone, except her little Tania, but that was natural. Tania was her baby, her last born, her heart.

Ria, Theresa, and even young Imelda would understand that; they were cut from the same cloth, even though like her they would never admit it out loud. To love men like the Baileys, to be a part of the Life, you really had no other option.

Everyone had labelled her weak, a fool, because she had never ever involved herself in the daily grind. But to Lena’s mind it had made her much stronger because, when you were tied to a man like Daniel Bailey, the less you knew the better for all concerned. Lena knew, from experience, that the truth could be a very dangerous thing. In the Life the truth didn’t set you free, the truth just hurt you. It just made you reassess your morals, boundaries and guidelines; it made you rework them, so that you could eventually condone literally
anything
.

All she wanted now was for her daughter’s baptism to go well, and for her husband and his family to find some kind of common ground, and come together again. She knew that it was an important day in more ways than one. It was the only chance to get her husband and his brother in the same room, and that was all she wanted.

‘I’m telling you now, Peter, we are the godparents, and you will not fucking boycott that child’s baptism. I don’t give a flying fuck about yours and Daniel’s big drama, all right? I promised we would be there, and we will. The whole family.’

Peter Bailey was genuinely astonished at his wife’s vehemence, considering she knew the score. She wasn’t like Lena, a fucking moron; his Ria made a point of knowing everything, that was Ria’s way.

‘Are you having a fucking mad half hour, woman? You know the score, you fucking coated me over it! Gave me grief, accused me of not fucking having my eye on the ball. Telling me I should have stopped Daniel going after Alfie and his little boy. Now you’re telling me I have to be the godfather of little Tania, because I promised when she was born? Before her father fucked up everything around him?’

Ria was staring at him angrily. ‘You’re going, and that is the end of it.’

‘Oh no, I ain’t. Daniel can hang as he grows. I’ve washed my hands of him.’

Ria snorted in derision. ‘Oh, stop it, you tart! This is for
Lena
, and her child. You promised you would be the godfather, and you
will
, Peter. I swear to Christ Himself you will do it – you can’t fucking renege on something like that, no matter what. This is about
religion
, Peter, about family. Not about
fucking skulduggery. Lena asked you and you agreed. You can’t fucking back out now – not if you ever want to be welcome in this fucking house anyway! I don’t ask for much, boy, but when I do actually ask you for something, you know I won’t take no for an answer. Whatever Daniel’s done – and I know what a fucking looney he is – he’s still your brother, and Tania is still your niece.’

She left the room then, slamming the door noisily behind her. She knew how to make a dramatic exit, she was the world’s expert in them when the fancy took her. In fairness to her, these were very rare occurrences, but all the same, they were a warning as well. Ria was fiesty; she could cause a fight in an empty house when she wanted to. Every now and then she was known to put her foot down, and once she did that, there was no arguing with her. As Peter had often got his way over the years – without a whisper from her – when she
did
force the issue, he generally gave her whatever she wanted. But he was not about to humour her this time.

Daniel had gone too far: he had nearly ruined everything for them. It was solely Peter’s damage limitation that had kept not only his brother’s death from occurring, but also kept his own place as the head of the Bailey clan. It was only
his
fucking diplomatic skills – and he had really had to dig deep for them – along with his own obvious outrage at his brother’s actions that had stopped what could have been an international incident. He had put the word out that he would deal with Daniel himself, and that anyone else who felt the urge to chastise his brother would eventually have to answer to him personally. That wouldn’t be a good thing for anyone concerned; after all, whatever Daniel was, he was still Peter’s brother.

Sending Delroy to tell Daniel he wanted nothing more to do with him had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do.
Delroy passed on Daniel’s response – in detail – but Peter knew that was just a front. Daniel would be more devastated by Peter’s anger and disappointment than anyone else’s.

Peter blamed a lot of this on the fact that his brother was on the old Persian rugs. Daniel taking drugs was a fucking anomaly in itself, as he had always hated them. Daniel was a drinker – he liked a few bevvies, end of. Now it seemed he was the fucking coke meister. He had only recently understood just how religiously Daniel had embraced the fucking snort. He had a line himself occasionally – they all did. It sobered you up, countermanded the drink, it allowed you to tear the arse out of the night. But for someone like his brother, a paranoid fuck at the best of times, it just exacerbated his natural inclinations, and his brother’s natural inclinations were always fucking violent.

He could hear Ria and his mother in the kitchen, and he wished he could, just once, wave a magic wand and strike the pair of them dumb.

Five minutes later, his mother and his wife were standing in front of him, demanding that he keep his promise.

Theresa looked into his eyes and said quietly, ‘He needs this, Peter, and you know that as well as I do. He is a fecking idiot, but he is still your brother. Nothing you do or say can ever change that.’

He didn’t answer her; she had always insisted that they kept together, that they were closer than close. He
knew
that.

She touched his arm gently, and he put his large hand over hers. Looking into his eyes, she said forcefully, ‘You
have
to be there, you
have
to show some kind of solidarity. His sons will need to know that they are still part of the family – for the future. You’re as arrogant as he is in your own way. But you and I know that all this is killing him. He knows he did wrong. Wipe your mouth and stand godfather, and remember that whatever
he is and whatever he’s done, he is still your little brother, and he is still my youngest son, and together you will always be stronger than anyone around you. He needs you to pull him back, rein him in, tell him the truth. I’m not asking you to take him back into the fold, I’m asking you to remember that Daniel
needs
you beside him. No matter how we feel about him and his actions, he is still our flesh and blood. He can’t even contemplate a life without you beside him – without you somewhere in his world he will wilt. I will not let you do that to him. I have stood beside you both, no matter what. I know you have more than a few bodies on your conscience, but I accept that like I accept Daniel. You know I never ask either of you boys for anything, but I am asking you now, Peter – give Daniel a fecking lifeline, tell him to sort himself out. Only
you
can tell him that. You’re the only person he has ever listened to.’

Peter sighed. His mother
would
stand by her boys no matter what and, as much as her words annoyed him, he knew she was right. Daniel would only listen to him now. Daniel would be so distraught about their estrangement that he would gladly take any criticism from Peter if he thought it would get things back to normal.

So he would go to the child’s baptism; his mother was right – they had to be seen to be back on track, even if, in reality, they were not. But Daniel had to play his part – admit that he was wrong and change his ways. Daniel had consistently refused to work as a team, never accepting that Peter was the person people wanted to deal with, who had the creds needed. Daniel had always gone out of his way to prove a point, push his luck, force an issue, settle a score.

His mother was asking the impossible. She was as disgusted with Daniel as he was himself but she was still pleading that he give his brother – a child killer – another chance. She was their
mum, and as a mum she was trying to build a bridge between them. Peter wasn’t sure that Isambard Kingdom Brunel could build a fucking bridge big enough to span their differences.

Daniel’s murder of that little child was something that no one would ever forget, and very few people – including himself – would ever forgive.

The church was packed out with people and Lena looked at her little daughter proudly. She looked gorgeous. The Christening gown was old now – it had been used by each of them – but it was all the more important because of that. Theresa had hand-sewn it all those years ago, and it made her proud to know that it was still in use.

As she passed her daughter gently to her mother-in-law, Lena smiled. ‘She is so like you, Theresa, it’s uncanny, especially when she frowns! I’m having Theresa as her middle name, in honour of you and all you mean to us. It was your mother’s name as well, wasn’t it?’

Theresa looked at her granddaughter, and she nodded, touched. ‘It was, but I hope this Theresa has more luck in her life than we have had. Doesn’t make the same mistakes. When you’re young, you never see the pitfalls, or the foolishness of your actions, do you? You make people into what you
want
them to be and, then, when they break your heart, you have to find the strength to carry on. I think you know that as well as I do, Lena.’

Lena understood her mother-in-law was trying to warn her about Daniel and what had happened between him and Peter, but this was not the time or place. Lena had rewritten the commandments so many times. She had made allowances for her husband over and over again; she had convinced herself that as a
Catholic and a wife she was honour-bound to stand by her husband no matter what. She had spent so much time at Mass, praying for his salvation, along with her own, but the bottom line was that she knew she would actually walk away from everyone if that meant it would keep her husband safe. Even after all these years, Theresa
still
didn’t understand that she would never,
ever
betray Daniel.

Smiling gently, she said complacently, ‘I think this little one will be all right, Theresa; she has us. I know you will always look out for her – they all will.’

Theresa smiled, but Lena could tell she was irritated. She just didn’t seem to understand that there were certain things that once voiced out loud could never be taken back. Look at poor Imelda: she ferreted out everything she could about Delroy even when she knew that most of it would not be good. As a result, Imelda, God love her, was the most unhappy person Lena knew.

In the Life, knowledge wasn’t power. In the Life, knowledge was no more than added aggravation.

She saw the priest beckoning to her, and she felt a second’s shame at her distraction. She was in the house of God for her daughter’s baptism, and she was thinking all these terrible things. Plastering a smile on to her face, she walked to the altar, and she began to pray, asking His forgiveness, and asking Him to make sure the rest of the day went off without a hitch.

Peter Bailey had renounced the devil, done all he had been asked, and was now watching his brother’s reaction to his daughter’s screams of distress as the holy water was poured over her head.

Tania was not impressed in the least – that much was obvious. As Peter saw his brother scoop the child into his arms and try his hardest to placate her, he wondered once more at a man who was such a mass of contradictions. Daniel appeared genuinely worried about his daughter’s distress, and he was jiggling her up and down in an effort to calm her. It was only when Lena took her from him, and nestled the child into her shoulder, that she quietened down.

Peter closed his eyes, and allowed himself to become immersed in the Mass. He knew that it was the only way he could ignore his brother. He didn’t like this priest – he was a ponce. Father Mahoney always took the weddings, the Christenings and the burials – he knew the earners. There was always a drink for the priest after those, unlike after the daily Masses. Peter knew his mother revered Father Mahoney, as all the women did; he made a fuss of them, and they loved it. Even his Ria was not averse to his charms. He flirted with the females in the congregation, and they loved it, lapped it up.

He repeated the Mass without thinking. ‘We lift them up to the Lord.’

He felt his brother come to stand beside him; he knew it was him before he even heard him repeat the Mass with him, something that they had done all their lives.

They had often gone to the six o’clock Mass with their mum, before they went to school. She still went to early Mass most days and, years ago, her two boys had stood beside her, both of them repeating the liturgy without a thought. It was something they had always listened to, was already a part of them. Both of them scrubbed till they shone, so young they didn’t question any of it. Theresa had held their hands in hers as if her life depended on it, sure in the knowledge that God was looking out for them. They didn’t know then that their mum was looked down on because she had them both – one black and one white – and no husband to boot. They had not known then that their mum had had to be brave to walk into the church with her head held high, and her two little boys dressed like princes, and that she had to run the gauntlet of public opinion every time. That she was looked at with disgust, and treated with disdain. They had only realised that much later, and she had told them that she did not give a flying fuck about a crowd of dried-up old fucking bitches who looked down their noses at her, and that she was proud of her boys. She said she knew that if God Himself had seen fit to send them to her, she was not going to let a few old bags, who had never had a real fucking shag in their lives, dictate to her how she should act in public. Christ Himself was fatherless, Joseph was His foster father, for fuck’s sake, and poor Mary was one of the first unmarried mothers!