The seventies was the decade that saw the explosion of recreational drug use, the second generation of West Indians were now making their mark and the country was recovering from another recession and yet another ineffectual government. It was the era of punk rock and dole queues. It was the time for the new generation to make their mark and show their disdain for the shambles they had inherited from their parents.

Lenny Brewster and his ilk milked this for all it was worth. They made fortunes on the generation growing up and on the relaxing of most people's moral codes. It was boom-time in the criminal fraternities and everyone was happy with their lot.

For Lil Brodie and for her children, it heralded the end of her life as she knew it. The death of Patrick Brodie would shape his children's lives and not in the way he would have wanted.

Book Two

Chapter Nineteen

'Well, I am sorry you feel like that, Mrs Brodie, but your son is being expelled for fighting. If you can't see anything wrong with that kind of behaviour then this is a pointless conversation.'

Lily Brodie gritted her teeth in suppressed anger. 'My Shamus is not a hooligan, Mr Benton, and you know it. He's only ten and the boy he was fighting with is nearly fifteen.'

Mr Benton felt sorry for this woman. She was a handsome-looking piece, no man could fail to notice that much, and her life had been hard and so had her children's. She had produced two children in the last ten years and he was not relishing their arrival at his school in the future. The Brodie's were a byword for trouble in these parts and he was sick of them all.

'The boy Shamus was fighting with was trying to stop your son from bullying his little brother; the fact that Shamus hammered him speaks volumes. Shamus is a big lad, a strong lad and he is a lot of things, Mrs Brodie, but a victim is not one of them.'

'His eldest brother is home now and he'll watch out for him. After all, that's what older brothers do, isn't it, according to you?'

The man laughed then and the laugh was genuine.

'Oh well, that's all right then. His brother is home from prison at last and is going to put young Shamus on the straight and narrow. What a wonderful role model he'll make. This is Patrick you are talking about, the same Patrick who was the bane of my life.'

The man's sarcasm was not lost on Lil, but she knew it was pointless arguing any longer. Shamus was out, simple as that. And this sanctimonious old bastard was getting on her nerves.

'Shamus was defending his brother too. They were taunting him about my Pat. He came home from nick this week, as you know, and they were teasing him over it. He just retaliated, that's all. The older boy should have known better than to try and interfere in his brother's dispute anyway. How the hell will that child ever learn right from wrong if his brother bails him out all the time? He needs to learn when to shut his trap and my Shamus did what any other boy would do in his shoes; he defended his family. But my family don't matter, do they? They don't count. Their father was murdered in front of them and no one allows for that, do they? Oh no, you only care that some shite has been bullied. Well the boy had better get used to it because his brother won't be there to protect him for ever.'

Mr Benton shook his head in utter disbelief at her words. He heard this kind of talk over and over again from parents who saw school as nothing more than a necessary evil, not a place of learning. Their idea of valuable information was not dates and facts, figures and problem-solving techniques; it was the law of the pavements. That this woman believed her son's tormentor deserved a serious beating was in itself more proof of the running battle he faced on a daily basis. Just trying to instil a modicum of decency in these children was impossible. Mr Benton sighed in annoyance. 'Well, it's all academic now, isn't it? I would appreciate it, Mrs Brodie, if you don't allow Shamus to hang around the school gates or wander into the playgrounds. He is no longer welcome here in any capacity whatsoever.'

Lil sat back in the chair and surveyed the little man opposite her, and he was little, in every way. From his puny body and his bony little hands, to his small-mindedness. He was the bane of people like her and he was too stupid to see that. He lived in a parallel universe, in a place where people talked nicely to one another and washed their cars every Saturday afternoon. A world where shirts were worn to work and carpets were vacuumed daily. A world where people like her and hers were seen as failures and beneath them; because they had to fight to exist on a daily basis and this man couldn't fight if his life depended on it. He wouldn't last five minutes on their estate and it was because of this mindset that he couldn't interest any of these children in what he had to offer them, in what he had to say.

Lil stood up then and, holding her back straight, she looked down at the man who had been the bane of her life for years.

'Mr Benton, my son will not trouble you again, you have my word on that. But let me just say this before I leave; if you had any kind of teaching ability you wouldn't be working in a shithole like this, and I ask you to think about that tonight when you are driving home to your family. Like the pupils in this school, the teachers here are on the bottom rung of their ladder as well. So remember that when you look down your nose at someone because, like I said, if you had anything going for you, this is the last place you'd want to be.'

As Lil walked from the office she felt the headache that had been troubling her all morning start to subside. Shamus was sitting on a scruffy old chair outside the headmaster's office and when he smiled at her with his usual crafty grin, she laughed weakly, 'Come on, mate, let's get you home.'

Shamus walked beside her; he was a good lad at heart and she knew that, but he was also a fighter and she knew that one day it would bring him real trouble.

'I am sorry, Mum.'

She knew he meant it, every word of it; he always did. Until the next time, of course.

Lil hoped the boys were home; she was worried about them and what they might be getting up to. Lance was bad enough but with Pat Junior now back on the streets and hungry to earn a few quid so he could give it to her with pride and feel he was taking care of his family once more, anything was possible.

She stopped at her local shop and got a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka on tick. She needed a rest from her kids but she knew she wouldn't be getting one.

'Can I have a fag, Mum?'

Lil smacked Shamus hard across his face and she knew she had hurt him by his pained expression.

'Don't push me today, boy, all right? I am on the cusp of a violent episode thanks to you and that fucking school. Why couldn't you just once, fucking once, walk away from trouble?'

She sighed in desperation. This boy would be the death of her. 'You ain't even worth arguing with, are you?'

Shamus shrugged then and she knew he was upset, but for once she didn't care.

All she wanted at this moment was a large drink and a few hours' kip, she was shattered.