Dave had also made a lot of bad business decisions over the last year and he had lost a small fortune on dope deals that had not come to fruition. The trouble with the puff was that the money was always paid out upfront and if the merchandise was intercepted before it arrived at the correct destination, everyone lost their initial investment. The police had been waiting at the last three drops, two at airfields and one on the Thames estuary. It had been no one's fault, even though that fucking Spider and his brother seemed to produce cannabis out of thin air and his brothers had questioned why they never had a fucking capture of any kind. In his heart he knew that the underlying accusations were not only unfair, but complete rubbish.
Spider had sewn it all up a long time before they had decided to try to get an in themselves. Spider's stuff came straight out of the docks and it was good gear; the stuff they managed to procure was low-grade and had more seeds in it than a packet of Trill. The reality was that they had been had over, not once but many times, and without going to Patrick Brodie and asking him to step in and sort it out, there was not a lot they could do about it.
The realisation that they were only regarded as part of his workforce bothered them more than any of them cared to admit. It seemed that the truth did indeed hurt, and Spider's growing place in Patrick's heart had not only been observed, but acknowledged, by all the powers that be.
Basically, they had been shown up for the motley crew they actually were and without any real poke to spread around they were in danger of going broke.
Dave had lost over two hundred grand in the last ten months, and his brothers had lost a similar amount between them as well. It was a lot of money. Money they didn't have any more and money they were not in a position to replace any time in the near future. They were all boracic lint and they were starting to panic; they owed money all over the Smoke and they knew it was only a matter of time before the creditors started whispering to Patrick.
Bank robbery was on the cards; it was the only earner left to them. The bugbear with that though, was that they would need to run it by Patrick first and give him a taste of whatever they managed to get.
'You'll get your money, Mum, but fucking go easy on it this time, OK?'
Doris nodded, pleased the conversation was over.
'Bacon sandwich, anyone?'
'Here, Annie, I got you a part-time job, love, haunting fucking houses!'
Pat Junior and Lance laughed out loud; their laughter tinged with shock, as always, that their father dared to talk to their granny like that. The girls, happily ensconced in their father's arms, were laughing because everyone else was laughing.
Annie carried on smiling her martyr smile as her son-in-law bellowed, 'Get off your cross, woman, we need the fucking wood!'
Lil smiled too and Pat looked at her for long seconds before saying seriously, 'You all right, girl, need the quack?'
Lil shook her head and Pat looked into her eyes. He worshipped her and lately the thought of her going through another pregnancy worried him. She wasn't right this time and she looked dreadful; even her lovely thick hair looked lank and her face was drawn.
'I'm OK. Fancy a cuppa?'
Pat looked at the boys as he shouted irreverently, 'Let Attila the fucking Hun make it!'
Pat sat beside Lil and pulled her into his arms. 'You look whacked-out, girl.'
'I am a bit. Look at your gorgeous daughters.'
Lil always changed the subject if it was about the way she looked or felt; she continued to collect certain rents for her husband and did the prison visits when they were needed. She didn't want him to see her as weak, even though that was how she felt lately. She wanted him to trust her and rely on her. Lily knew almost as much about the businesses as he did, and although he was only trying to save her energy by giving her a break, she wasn't happy about it.
'My pair of beauties.' Pat grinned once more. He was ageing fast but she still felt the pull of him when he looked at her full-on. She grinned too, her perfect white teeth at odds with her white face.
'The girls look at you with such love, Pat.'
He opened his arms in a gesture of understanding. 'All women look at me like that.'
This was said arrogantly and, too late, he saw the way she was staring at him. He saw the fear and the loneliness inside her, the sadness his silly words had caused, and he cursed women and their bloody moods.
'I was only joking, darling.'
But the moment was gone again. This was happening a lot lately and it was starting to get on his nerves; he had enough on his mind without her looking for poxy rows as well.
'Why do you wind yourself up, Lil? It was a joke, that's all. Look at the kids' faces.'
Lil could see the exasperation in his eyes and the children watching their parents with worried expressions, and she saw then that they picked up on everything around them and it wasn't healthy. She knew it was her, her feeling so rough, her worry that Pat was going to either get nicked or go off with a newer model. The latter was the biggest fear of all; there was an old saying about how if a wandering old man got his collar felt, at least you knew where they were. She now knew how true that was.
'Go and play upstairs, kids. Mummy's feeling a bit tired.'
Pat Junior and Lance picked up a sister each and left the warmth of the room without question. Annie, Lil knew, had her ears on red alert as she listened to everything that was being said between them.
'I'm sorry, Pat. I just feel so rough all the time…'
He cuddled her into him again and she could smell cigarettes and the lingering aroma of cheap perfume.
'You've got to stop this, Lil. You are me girl, always will be. You're the mother of me children for fuck's sake.' His voice was earnest and she wished with all her heart that she could believe him, but she knew him better than he knew himself. She forced a smile as she answered him.
'I look like a bloody cow. Don't take no notice, it's just me hormones talking.'
'More like your fucking mother talking.' Pat pulled her face up to his and kissed her on the lips.
'You're my wife and you're the world to me. I am out collaring every day to provide for you all, OK?'
Lil nodded again and he felt the strength of his love for her. Why couldn't she believe that even at her heaviest, with her belly hanging down to her knees, she could never look more beautiful to him than when she was carrying his children. Fuck knows, he had made enough of them with her. Now he had the unenviable task of telling her he was on the out again tonight.
That little gem was going to go down like a two-ton tart in the back of a Mini.
Cain and Spider were stoned and as the night drew in, they settled down to watch some TV while they waited for people to collect their gear. They doled out anything over 2.2 lb themselves. It didn't matter whether it was puff or speed; they wanted to see who was new to the game and find out their connections. It was a point of honour now that the Williams brothers didn't score from them by any means. They had a good rapport with the people they weighed out to, and any new faces brought in had to be referenced by at least two of their trusted dealers. Especially if they were white.
Skinheads were smoking puff like there was no tomorrow and so were the middle-class white boys. It was becoming the drug of choice for a whole generation. Together with the new seventies music scene and the opening up of so many clubs all over the Smoke and the Home Counties, speed was also an earner. Pills were still going strong, but the preference was for the white powder.
1976 was the year of the snort with punks desperate to stay up all night, the rude boys wanting the blues that lasted for days on end and the casuals with their Depeche Mode and asymmetric haircuts. Selling speed was like printing money and that was why they changed flops every few months; no reason to ask for trouble. By five in the morning they would have about eighty grand in the room with them and that was a temptation to anyone, let alone the people they dealt with on a daily basis.