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.

Patrick nodded towards the man, giving him permission to tell his mother what she wanted to know. Knowing she needed to hear the truth about her child more than ever now, no matter how bad it was, or how painful.

'She was beaten to death. There are three holes in her skull. It would have been quick though, the coroner says that any one of the blows would have been enough to render her unconscious.'

Lil didn't answer him, she just sat and waited for him to continue.

'I am so sorry, Mrs Brodie.'

She knew he meant it, and being called Mrs Brodie brought back memories of good times. Good times that had been destroyed first with her husband's murder, and then with her daughter's disappearance.

'Was she raped?' She had to know, even as she didn't want to know.

Scanlon sighed. 'They don't think so. All her clothes were still intact; she was wrapped in plastic and that kept everything in pretty good condition. It seems more like a rage murder than anything else. No one knows why these things happen. Usually it's just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

Lil nodded again. Why, she didn't know. She didn't know what else to do, wasn't up on the protocol on how to deal with something like this.

'Any idea who did it?' Lance's voice was heavy with distress.

'Not yet.' Scanlon stared at the floor once more.

'Where was she found?' Lil wanted to know the answer to her question, but she hoped against hope it wasn't somewhere they had looked. They had searched everywhere, over and over again, wondering if they had missed something. Hoping she might turn up there. Her fear now was that she had missed her child, had walked past her poor, broken little body. Had not seen her burial mound, not noticed a newly dug grave, had not realised they were walking over her last resting place.

'That is the strange thing about it. She was found buried in a garden in Chigwell.'