As he hugged his wife again he felt the full force of her sex and her goodness: a combination he knew he was terrified of. Like most men of his generation he knew he had not really given her the respect she was due as the mother of his children or as the love of his life. She had run his clubs at one time and she had done it well, had been respected for her acumen and her shrewdness. Now, thanks to him, she was back to square one, just a housewife, the receptacle for his children and she had accepted that as she had accepted everything else in her life. With dignity and without any kind of argument. In fact, Patrick was now feeling like a Class A bastard; he had practically forgotten about her and about everything that was important while he was sorting out his problems. He was finally feeling a serious guilt and, worse than that, he was looking at a woman who was at the end of her tether but who was still trying to hide her real condition from him so he would not feel that he should be supporting her in any way.

He kissed Lil gently on her lips, her eyes and all over her face as she stood patiently, allowing him access to her as she always had in the past.

His Lil was a brahma, she was a fighter and unless he looked closely, as he was now doing, she would tell him nothing of import about her, or his kids; she was always more interested in making sure he was without worries and that he was happy and content. But she looked terrible, and it was worrying him, because he couldn't say that without hurting her. All the times she had been pregnant before, she had been happy and healthy, and she had never once asked him for anything other than what he had been willing to offer her. And then he made sure he felt good about himself while he was doing it.

And the worst thing of all was, he had needed her tonight, more than ever, and it was only because of that he had seen just how much his chosen lifestyle had affected her and all those around her.

For the first time in years, he was seeing her life from her perspective, and it was not something he was proud of, or indeed something he wanted to dwell on. Instead, he sat her down on the nearest chair and made her relax while he waited on her for a change. But it was a double-edged sword; she knew it was an act on his part, and she pretended that he was doing it all for her.

To see Patrick looking at her with such sadness and such care was enough to make Lil want to smack him in the face. She hated that the fact that she was pregnant made Patrick see her as weak and needy, and it made her feel useless because he didn't see women as anything of value. Every time she was pregnant, Lil felt the enormity of what she could do, what she was capable of.

Yet this miracle of life was still treated by men as if it was nothing, even though they could never do it; they relied on the female of the species to produce for them. And they had to trust the person who was having the child for them because only the woman could be one hundred per cent sure the child inside them was actually their man's. The man had to take their word for it and if the man in question had chosen someone they didn't entirely trust, then that was a poor lookout for them all. Men who had chosen unwisely often had to puff and pant and threaten, to convince themselves that the child they were giving their name to, and paying for, was actually a blood relative. Patrick Brodie, she knew, had never had to worry about that, ever. And so, even as her husband felt sorry for her, Lil knew that she would always have the upper hand because she had put him first and she had always respected his work and looked after his offspring.

Lil was always aware of her husband's thoughts and feelings but she was not going to let on about that now. Like any woman worth her salt, she would milk this for all it was worth. Loving him was one thing but accepting this kind of treatment was something else. She was annoyed with him and the way he had suddenly decided to make out that he understood her life and the way she was feeling. It was an insult, on the one hand, and something she treasured, on the other. Anyway, she was determined to keep her trap shut in case she caused a row, but at times like this she wished he wouldn't act the big I Am.

That Patrick had only just noticed how she was feeling annoyed her but she smiled and allowed him to pet her and love her. After all, he was only a man and, as her mother pointed out at every available opportunity, they couldn't feel their way out of the womb unless a woman was pushing for them. Everything they did from then on was either to get a woman or to keep a woman. In some cases, they tried to do both things at once. When all was said and done, women ruled the fucking world.

As Patrick smiled at her with his smug face and enveloped her once more in his strong arms, she was more convinced of that fact than ever before.

Chapter Fourteen

Spider was feeling the heat and he was not a happy bunny. Cain was starting to irritate him on an hourly basis. The boy was somehow under the mistaken impression that he was more on the ball than his older brother; he was at the stage in life where a few quid and someone else's hard work seemed to make him feel he was the winner of Mastermind: chosen subject, villainy and drug dealing. He was now of the inflated opinion that he could run everything from a bar stool and that his brother, who had been kind enough to pave his way into the world of riches and money, had suddenly acquired the intellect of a Millwall supporter. It was laughable, but worse than that, it was also making Spider very frightened. And that was making him even more frightened.

Life was hard enough as it was without his little brother suddenly developing a death wish. It was as if Cain really thought that he was the brains of the outfit. The young man he himself had schooled and who he had grafted for suddenly seemed to think that he was the alpha male, the dog's gonads.

Cain really thought that he was a fool who would not suss out what was going on right under his nose and that his treachery would go unnoticed and, more to the point, unpunished. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic.

The Williams brothers were pariahs in their community and what did Cain decide to do? Make them his bosom buddies at the expense of all he had worked for, all he had tried to achieve. Cain was suddenly prepared to overlook him, was prepared to forget everything in a heartbeat. He had no thought for anyone except himself and the shite he had decided to hang around with. Jasper the Rasta was bad enough, he had been hanging with him for a while now but, coupled with the Williams boys, it was a catastrophe of fucking Olympian proportions.

And Cain was so dense that he actually thought that he, Spider, his older brother, the man who had taught him everything he knew, had no idea where his brother's nights were spent and, worse still, what he was doing while on the missing list.

Spider had the unenviable task of telling Patrick the full story, although he had a feeling he already knew all about it. There wasn't much Patrick didn't know about, and what there was didn't merit his attention.

The Williams brothers had offered Cain the earth on a plate, convinced him they were what he needed to succeed and Cain had swallowed it all like the fucking useless no-neck he had become. It was this that was annoying Spider the most: that his Cain, his brother, could be that fucking stupid. Like he could trust white boys. White boys who were now lower down the food chain than the whores they were attempting to pimp and weaker than the drugs they were attempting to peddle in his name, and more treacherous than Judas Iscariot himself.

Cain had always been vain and that must have been how the Williams boys had got into him; it was the only thing he could think of to blame. They must have mug-bunnied for England to get him on their side.