She only hoped that Patrick would be around for the birth. He was always interested in how she was feeling; he thought he could suss out the sex of the child by asking her questions and feeling her belly. He was like most men when it came down to it, he had no idea what it was like to have your body taken over for nine months yet he was convinced he was an expert. She gave birth and he took the kudos. As her mother said, men were about as much use as a chocolate teapot around a pregnant woman and she had to agree that, for once, she was right.

Annie had been a godsend lately, what with the party and the twins and Patrick being on the missing list so much. Her body was rebelling against this child for some reason and she would be glad to get it out into the open and finally have a proper gander at it. Only a girl could be the cause of her uncomfortable nights, even more uncomfortable days, and the reason for her constant backache and penchant for tears. Never before had she felt so low, or so high, while carrying a child. This one, she was sure, would be special.

As Lance lifted Eileen up and carried her to bed, she smiled slightly; he was good with his sisters, especially Eileen. The weirdness she felt when she was around him had to be her fault, had to be coming from her. Lance tried his hardest to make her love him but she knew that no matter what she did to assure him that was the truth, he knew in his heart that she was pretending.

It was just on eight and the club was still almost empty except for a few of the City boys who liked a drink, a flash of stripper flesh and a quick feel before they lumbered home to their wives. When Dave was finally taken into Patrick's office he was on the verge of tears, such was his nervousness.

Patrick was sat at his desk drinking brandy: a good sign, and smoking one of his cigars: a very good sign. Patrick loved his Cuban smokes, everyone knew that, even though he only smoked them when he was in a club, never at home.

Dave smiled tremulously and saw the pity in Pat's eyes. He had fallen so far in the space of a few months and he felt it acutely, especially now that he had finally gained an appointment with the man who had not only taken out his brother, but had also been the cause of every good thing that had happened to them for many years.

Pat smiled at him sadly. 'Want a drink, Dave?'

He nodded his assent with far too much enthusiasm and with far too much relief. It was embarrassing to watch, and Dave knew it would make his humiliation even harder to bear. This was the shape of things to come and he knew he would not be able to bear it.

Patrick was heartsore at the predicament his friend had found himself in. He had always liked the kid; he didn't have half the brain or half the gumption of his older brother but he had possessed enough heat to make Pat feel he was worth giving a chance to out of respect for his dead brother, Dicky.

He had only given him an in because of his brother and he had made a bad judgement. Now he was paying for it; they were all paying for it.

As he handed the boy a drink, Jimmy Brick was ushered into the small office and young Dave went white at the sight of him. Even his lips had gone white, so shocked was he to see him.

This annoyed Patrick. Dave should have expected something like this; he was hardly going to leave the meet between these two for months or years was he? The fact that Dave had not expected it was another reason why he should have realised that the guy was a skank, a fucking waster. Dave should already have had his speech prepared and his sincere apology; should have understood the economics of their world. Instead, he was standing there like a fucking nonce.

Patrick looked at Dave and tried to convey this with a discreet shake of his head; praying that the boy finally took on board what was expected of him. He had to either fight like fuck and make a stand over his brother's death or swallow and forever be a gofer, a cunt.

Dave did nothing and Patrick was devastated, even though he had not expected anything different. The room was filled with tension and also disappointment and Jimmy's easy shrug called for the whole episode to be brought to an end.

Dave watched as Jimmy Brick was embraced by Brodie as if he was a long-lost brother. He knew then that he should have made the first move and embraced Jimmy Brick as if it was all just a silly mistake. He should have realised that Jimmy would now be the person who controlled what he earned and how much responsibility he would be allowed to take on in the future. He had fucked up once more and no one was sorrier than Patrick Brodie; he had tried to build a bridge between them but he had been too stupid to take that on board. Dave observed the solidarity these two men displayed so openly with a sad face and a slumped demeanour. He was already beaten and they didn't need to rub it in; that much was obvious to them all.

Jimmy's dead eyes were finally alive and Patrick realised that they were alive with malice. He was enjoying this little meeting and he understood that Dave was being taught a very valuable lesson and it was Jimmy's job to ram it home, hard and fast, so it would not easily be forgotten.

Once more, the Williams brothers had missed a golden opportunity.

Chapter Thirteen

'I mean it, don't fucking wind me up. I ain't giving you nix.'

Dave and Tommy Williams were both at a point where murder was definitely an option. The man they were fighting with knew this but was not worried; at least, he was not as worried as he should have been. Both the Williams brothers were more than aware that he seemed almost uninterested. Colin Parker was an arsehole and they knew it. Till now, though, he had always been a nervous arsehole.

'Where the fuck is the money, Col? Just give it to us, eh.' The uncertainty was in Dave's voice and Parker knew it. He snorted with contempt, his red face and unshaven cheeks making him look worse than ever. He was an ugly man anyway, his sneer just made him look even uglier.

'Can I ask you two something?' His voice was calm, as if interested in their answer.

Dave nodded, out of curiosity. 'Course, what?'

Colin grinned and it was a sarcastic and brave action. Holding out his arms, he said slowly, 'Do I look even remotely bothered? You don't scare me. You're fucking ice-creams, no more and no less.'

He lit a joint with steady hands and when it was sparked up properly, he said with heavy sarcasm, If your brother Dennis ain't with you then you can both fuck off. Let's face it, he was the scary one.'

Colin Parker smiled then, a confident smile, one that was guaranteed to annoy. He was a small-time gambler who had a serious habit and, ergo, an even more serious debt. He was paying fuck all if he didn't have to.

Colin was a short, shaven-headed individual, stocky and strong. A founding member of the ICF, he was a bully boy who saw himself as above the common herd and as someone who could also look after himself if the fancy took him. He fought on the terraces every Saturday although that was often en masse. Alone, he could hold his own but he preferred to have a gang behind him. Safety in numbers was his usual credo, but these two didn't seem to be too much of a worry. Not after what he had heard on the streets; they were on their last legs. The Williams brothers had once been a force to be reckoned with, but not any more. These two were like Mutt and Jeff. About as hard as a nun with a water pistol.

He knew the Williams brothers were not the Faces they had once been and therefore he saw no reason to give them any money he could be using to his own advantage. A bet was a bet after all, and if he could delay payment, all the better. He wasn't averse to a little break in his payments to give him time to recoup his money or win back what he owed.