Jasper had ingratiated himself with Cain and had introduced him to the finer points of smoking, from a twist to a pipe. He had helped the Williams brothers get involved with Spider's little brother and he was proud of his part in bringing down the arrogant little shit. The Williams boys were a few coconuts short of a palm tree, as his mother used to say, but they were also emerging from their Brodie-imposed exile better than he would have given them credit for. Now that Cain was onside they were in a unique position because Spider would not let anything drastic happen to his little brother. At least that's what this crowd of goons believed, anyway. Jasper wasn't so sure; Spider had seen through him as if he was a pane of glass on their first meeting and not many people were that astute. Shame Spider hadn't used the same instinct with his little brother but then family had to really piss you off before you outed them.

The Williams family were close, as close as their kind could be anyway, and they were paying him well for his contribution to their cause. Now he was sitting there with them, fooling them all with his smiles, his gold teeth and his thick Jamaican accent, all the while planning how best he could exploit them or utilise the knowledge that he was gathering to his own advantage. They were loose-lipped and he knew everything about them.

He began to build another joint knowing that if Brodie was looking for Cain then their days were numbered. Spider would have to swallow and he had a feeling that once Brodie had heard all he had garnered over the last few weeks he would not be a happy bunny.

The last few weeks had been a revelation to him and, as the boys talked, he listened while building his spliff and singing 'Exodus' in a low voice, sounding more like Marley than the man himself. The Williams boys were taking the piss out of him periodically, thinking he didn't realise it, and he took it with good humour as always. Let them think he was a fucking moron. He was only sorry this lot didn't appreciate how he was playing them. But they would eventually, when it was too late, of course.

As Jasper sipped his rum and smoked his spliff, he was grinning and laughing, while wondering how this shower of shite managed to find their own arseholes without a fucking detailed map, a compass and a torch.

'Calm down, Lil. Lance what?'

Lil sighed in exasperation as she tried to explain the situation to Patrick, but she knew he was having a lot more trouble than her believing it.

'He threw a six-year-old girl off a moving bus. She had to have eight stitches in her head and she was terrified out of her life.'

She sighed heavily at the shock on his face, knowing it was mirrored in her own. 'He has been bullying the family for yonks, the little fucker. I think you had better go and look at him and see what I've done to him before we talk any more, OK?'

There was something in her voice that alerted Patrick to the truth of what she was saying yet he didn't want to believe it.

'Lil, is this a wind up?' But he knew it wasn't. He knew she was serious.

'What do you think, Pat? That I thought I'd have a joke with you about something this serious? He nearly killed a little girl. Fucking funny is it? It's a big joke, is it? Only I ain't laughing, am I?'

Patrick took the stairs two at a time and went into his son's room. Lance was asleep. He looked like the victim of a train crash; he was swollen and bruised all over, his cut eyebrow had scabbed over and none of the blood had been wiped away. He knew that Lil had left him there without seeing to him and this bothered him more than the beating the child had taken; it said a lot for her feelings. He felt anger welling up inside him; the boy looked so little, so frail, and with his body curled into a ball and his hands placed under his cheek, he looked like an angel. He put out a hand to touch him but stopped himself. The boy was better off asleep. He was battered like a Friday night cod as it was.

Lance was sleeping deeply, as if he had no cares in the world. Patrick had a feeling this would not be the first time this child of his would be taken to task in his life and it pained him to admit that to himself, but he had always been a realist. Lance was the product of his own two parents, and that, mixed with Lil's family tree, meant the boy didn't stand a chance. Selfish and greedy, Lance was everything Patrick despised; he seemed to have all the bad traits of his ancestors and none of the good ones. Lance's only saving grace was how he was with his little sisters. How protective Lance was of them gave Patrick hope for this boy's future.

He forced down the urge to give the boy another hiding. He was sorry, not because Lance was battered and bruised, but because he felt no pity for him. Lance's eyelids were flickering, he was dreaming. Patrick knew that any other child would have been awake, would have been far too upset to sleep. He stared down at his son, wondering what he had bred. He knew that at some time in the future this boy would be an asset in any criminal undertaking but that as a child he was an anomaly. He found his dislike of his child was growing by the second. He wanted to drag him from the bed and make him understand just what he had done, but he knew that if he touched him, he would not be responsible for his actions. He needed to calm down first. The boy had been spoiled by his granny since he had first drawn breath and she had played a big part in all this. He had to blame her for a part of it, otherwise he would go mad. Well, he was going to sort the vindictive old bitch out. He needed to blame someone for his son's twisted nature and she was the prime suspect as far as he was concerned. Listening to the boy's soft breathing he knew he had to get away from him, to leave this room and all it entailed.

He crept into the other kids' rooms; the girls, as always, were asleep in one bed, a mass of plump limbs and baby sweat. Their lovely, long blonde hair was damp from their body heat and their rosy cheeks made his heart swell with love for them. They were good-looking children. All his kids were handsome and he was proud of them; at least he had been, until now. Kissing them lightly he went to his eldest boy's room and, opening the door, he saw he was awake as if waiting for him to come home. He guessed this was exactly what his son had been doing.

'All right, Dad?' Pat Junior smiled tremulously at his father.

Patrick sat on the edge of his bed and smiled back. 'What happened, son?'

Patrick knew he would get the truth from him, Pat Junior was as honest as the day was long.

'Mum was really cross, she went mad.'

Pat nodded. 'I can see that, mate, but she had reason to be, by the sounds of it.'

The boy reluctantly nodded in agreement; as always he was trying to look out for Lance.

'But he didn't mean it, Dad. He does bad things but he don't really mean to, he just doesn't think…'

Patrick loved this son of his; he knew that he was still trying to defend his brother even though Lance wasn't worth this loyalty. Lance had no loyalty or respect for anyone but himself.

'But he did hurt Maureen Callahan, Dad. I heard about it at school and I asked him about it. He denied it.'

Patrick nodded once more, the shame washing over him and leaving him feeling dirty.

'But you knew it was true, didn't you?'

Pat Junior nodded again as his eyes searched his father's for a hint of approval about how he was handling the problems his brother seemed to bring him on a daily basis. He didn't want to say outright that he had believed it from the off and that nothing his brother did surprised him.

'You're a good boy, son. Now relax and I'll talk to your mother and get it sorted. This is a serious thing that Lance has done, you do understand that, don't you?'