As chatty as she was and as much as she loved to laugh, she was wary of what she said now. At nearly nine, she was already a diplomat.

As she walked home from school with her friends they crossed over the road and, walking together, they passed the bookies in the high street. Her father, Lenny Brewster, was standing outside with a young girl. Colleen looked at him as she always did when she came across him. He looked through her, as he always did when he came across her. It bothered her that he was her old man and he had no interest in her but as she looked at him she was also glad; he had a screwed-up, angry face. His teeth were overly big for his mouth; she knew she had his mouth but she also knew that on her it looked different. The thick lips and slightly over-big teeth gave her a pout that would one day be her best feature. Colleen had been told she had a lovely smile ever since she could remember and she believed it, because she knew her laugh made others laugh along with her.

She was bold enough to make eye contact with her father and she knew he was as aware of her as she was of him. She was glad that her Patrick was home and that everyone was happy because of that and she was beginning to understand that now her father would have to answer to their Pat and she wondered what the upshot would eventually be.

She heard her older sisters calling out behind her and she turned to see them walking towards her with their long blond hair and their navy school uniforms. She waved at them happily. She loved the twins, they were like extra mothers to her and Christy. She hugged her sisters as always and then waved her friends goodbye at the bottom of her street. She was holding Kathy's hand as she always did, though she often felt as if she was looking after Kathy and not the other way round. Even as young as she was, she knew that Kathy was in need of looking after. So Colleen looked up at her older sister and smiled sweetly at her. Kathy smiled back and squeezed her hand gently but the sadness in her eyes made Colleen feel like crying.

Kathleen stopped and bent over, holding her belly. 'You all right, mate?' Eileen's voice was concerned.

Kathleen nodded and smiled grimly. 'I've got the shits again.'

'Charming! You've had that all week. See the quack or the school nurse.'

'I will, I'll go tomorrow.'

Kathy looked down at her little sister and saw her watching her dad and his latest amour and, squeezing her hand gently, she said, 'Ignore him, darling.'

Colleen smiled up at her with her bright little smile and said gaily, 'Sod him, I don't care about him.'

But she did sometimes.

Little Johnny and the Brodie boys stood outside the post office for a few seconds as they pulled on their balaclavas. It was just getting dark and the rain that had been threatening was already coming down. They walked inside casually and gently shut the door behind them. Then, pulling the shotguns out from under their coats, they started the blag. Little Johnny jumped on the counter and slipped easily over the glass partition known in the trade as the bandit screen. His small stature was ideal for that job and he got offered a lot of work because of it. He was small and wiry and he had slipped over more bandit screens than he cared to remember; earning a good wedge into the bargain.

There was no one in the post office, which was a result, as the last thing they needed was a have-a-go hero. Lance was still watching the door in case someone did decide to come in and buy a stamp. If anyone did come in, they would then be firmly walked away from the window and told in no uncertain terms to lie on the floor and shut the fuck up.

The two women who ran the place had been taking advantage of the quiet spell and were having a quiet cup of tea. The sight of the men and the guns they were brandishing terrified them and both were rooted to the spot for a few seconds.

Smiling through his balaclava, Patrick said, 'Come on, girls; sit yourselves down. We only want the money, nothing else; you can keep your virginity.'

The two women rushed through to the back of the shop and watched in shock and fascination as Johnny leapt over the counter.

'Go and fucking sit down. You move and I'll blow your fucking heads off.'

Little Johnny's voice was loud and frightening. It was all an act, he had no intention of shooting anyone but it was a requisite action; it stopped people from doing something stupid. He threw the bundles of money over the bandit screen and they were placed into a large leather shopping bag. The money was sealed tightly into neat packages and had the address of the firm it was to be used by printed on it or the bank it had come from. As they were neatly packaged, that made the job so much easier. Robberies like this were often committed for what was called running money. For the boys it was a little bit of bunce, some start-up money to make sure that they could buy up a few more debts and make a few more deals. A few months down the line and they might be tempted to blag the place again. People always thought lightning didn't strike in the same place twice but it did.

It was starting to really rain now, perfect robbing weather, and the greyness of the day made it nice and dim inside the old-fashioned shop. Anyone passing would not be able to see what was going on inside.

It was over in under seven minutes, though the two women involved would believe it had lasted a lot longer than that because of their fear. They were outside, ballys off and guns well hidden without anyone even taking a second glance at them. The car started first time and they were gone before the call had even been put through to the police or the ladies had set off the alarm. Laughing their heads off they spun away from the kerb and went to a friend's yard to dispose of the guns and then they sat it out for a few hours, chatting and drinking beer until Pat deemed it safe to go home.

Lance noticed that little Johnny was happy to let Pat be the main man and he knew that a lot of other people were going to feel like that towards him. Pat had a knack of making people do what he wanted; their father had been the same way. He knew Pat was going to shake their world up and make them a force to be reckoned with.

Annie watched as her daughter poured herself another drink. The drinks were being consumed earlier and getting larger by the month. Since Patrick had come home she had eased off a little bit but Annie knew her daughter well enough to know that something was bothering her, something more than usual.

She still looked good, she would give her that. Lil was one of those people who, no matter what happened to them, still seemed to look well.

She wasn't slim exactly but then, as a woman got older, she looked better with a bit of weight on her. She still had the voluptuous look that attracted men to her and her hair was shiny and thick; well-cut and groomed, like the rest of her. But Lil had the vacant look of the heavy drinker; the empty eyes that seemed unable to see what was going on around her. She wasn't bloated or pale-looking like most heavy drinkers but she was gradually losing interest in her surroundings. She was only really happy when the kids were around her and yet she was leaving the brunt of the household chores to her mother. Not that Annie minded; she loved being here, being in the thick of them all.

'Come on, Lil, eat something.'

'I ain't hungry, Mum, how many fucking times, eh?'

Annie sighed and swallowed down the retort that came quickly to her lips. Lil was capable of telling her to leave and she didn't want that to happen.

'Keep your hair on. Have you looked in on Kathleen? She is rough, bless her. I took her up a cuppa and she was already asleep.'

Lil nodded. 'She's all right. I saw her earlier and she has a gyppy tummy, that's all. She went to the doctor tonight; she fit her in like. She took her prescription and crashed out. She'll be OK, Mum; a couple of days in bed should sort her out.'