The Family Firm

Chapter 13

'Where are we goin', Uncle Fred?'

Freddie knew his nephew had tried to remain patient, but he knew Junior better than the boy knew himself, and because of that he knew his curiosity would get the better of him. He had been thankful for the first moments of peace and quiet that filled his BMW, but he knew the question would eventually come, and so, he was relaxed. Collected.

Internally, he was out of his nut.

Sometimes, he wasn't quite sure how to explain himself. He was thoughtful when he needed to be, usually when it came to business. He was good at what he did, and Archy had acknowledged such. But at the same time, there were times when he could be a fucking fool. He had these...impulses, instincts, gut feelings he couldn't control. Feelings that made him act out or it would remain on his conscience permanently.

One of these things was Katie. He had to see her. When he'd spotted her, unmistakable that day in her shell suit near the park, he knew he had to have a chat with her, had to keep that contact like a compulsion in his blood. And she was his blood, his daughter, his first-born child, and he loved her, truly he did. If he didn't love her, would he have kept tabs on her all these years? Would he have watched her grow in the only way he could, taking the long way home past her road just for the chance of getting a glimpse of her heading home from school? He'd sent letters from time to time, letters no doubt Katie had never gotten. Birthday cards, that sort of thing. He was never much for writing but he knew the sentiment would matter. Just to let her know he hadn't forgotten about her.

He knew what having a waster, alcoholic father was like. Now his da wasn't a demon, he just wasn't any good. Didn't know how to be a proper father, never wanted to be most likely, and it wasn't suited to him. Fred also understood a few things about his father, understood that after Beth forced them to move away from the caravan park, he softened up a fair amount. He lost his Irish temper, as if the umbilical cord supplying it was snipped. He was shunned from the family just like their aunt Polly and it had severely depressed him. He and Beth's fights had mellowed out but so had any passion between the two of them. Old Charlie spent all his time drinking and getting fat on his recliner, and it suited Beth down to the ground. She liked being in control, and Fred's father was completely emasculated in the process.

Fred understood this, but he also understood that he never wanted to become like him. He had already ballsed up with Katie and he had really, truly tried to right his wrongs. But he was built different, always had a temper, a violent one at that. He didn't understand how to handle his problems in a constructive way and it was usually those around him who paid the price. He knew this, and he was ashamed of himself because of it.

To pick up whatever pieces he could, he had done his damnedest to give Junior a better life than that. He'd done everything for that boy, he loved his nephew as if he were his own son—hell, the lad was named after him, after all. He'd done well by Junior and Frankie; and maybe that was the difference, Frankie. He'd never wanted a real romance with Sara, and knew she didn't either. The only reason they'd gotten married was because they were Catholic, like Frankie and that prat Donny. Four people all married, and still married, because of the children they'd created, and all miserable because they had no business being with each other.

Fred kept himself calm and looked to his nephew while he drove. 'I'm going to ask you a favour, lad. Will you do me a favour?'

Young Freddie's eyes were wide with admiration for his uncle. 'Sure thing, Uncle Fred. What do you need?'

Fred took a breath and turned back towards the road, peering though the windscreen with intense green eyes that subtly darted back and forth. It was becoming obvious how much speed he was on these days; he hadn't been sober in as long as he could remember.

'Remember that girl...what you told me was looking for me, a few weeks ago?' Junior was still watching, and so Fred went on: 'I want you to make nice with her. Look out for her. Treat her good, like you'd treat a sister, if you had one. You understand me boy?'

Junior was confused. 'So you do know her, then?'

Fred didn't respond, not at first. His knuckles blanched slightly around the steering wheel. 'Do as I say, Junior. I mean it. It's more complicated than you'll ever know, so don't ask me about it. Her mum don't want me around her, but I still want her kept care of, and Lord knows her mum can't do shit for the girl. So, I'm giving this responsibility to you, lad. You wanted to work for me, here's your job.'

Junior watched his uncle in confusion. Of course he would obey, because he always obeyed Fred and his mum both. But at the same time, he was dying with curiosity to know and understand the reasoning for his uncle's actions. Why didn't her mum want him around, and how did he know this girl? He'd never spoken about her before, never even mentioned any Katie or her mum. So this was all new to Junior.

But as much as he was curious, he wouldn't ask. Because he respected Fred, loved him dearly, and would do anything the man asked. He'd even take a bullet if it was necessary.

'All right,' was all he said, turning back to face the road as well. 'So...is that where we're headed?'

Fred was thankful the hardest part of the conversation was over. He knew Junior would do as he asked, and he also knew the boy was smart enough to keep his reasoning a secret. He trusted him with his life, knew he was loyal, and subconsciously knew having him working for him was a good decision. Perhaps one of the best he'd ever made.

They pulled over up against the kerb, and Fred looked over at the teenager. 'She'll be coming home from school around now. I want you to intercept her and make friends. Can you do that?'

'Sure I can,' replied Junior, lighting up in a grin. It was eerily reminiscent of his uncle's. 'She'll be proper charmed in no time. Call me Prince fucking Charming, eh?'

Fred laughed at his nephew's sense of humour and reached over to ruffle his hair, pleased with himself and his judgement to make this decision. 'Good lad, you. I'll give you a Lady Godiva, you can get yourselves some ice creams or summat.'

'That's it?' asked Junior. 'You want her to think I'm cheap? Come on, at least a tenner, Fred.'

'Cheeky lad!' The gangster laughed boldly and reached into his pocket, from which he removed a large roll of pound notes. Thumbing through it, he removed fifty quid and offered it to Junior, but swatted him in the face with it playfully before the lad could actually grab it. 'Consider this an advance on your cheque. I don't wanna hear no more out of you after this, boy. Understand?'

Junior looked at the money in awe, shocked that his uncle had so much more, too. He only saw glimpses of this sort of dosh when Fred came home with a fat cheque after a big job, when he was feeling generous and treated him and his mum to a big dinner and new electronics. What pleased him most was the idea that, now that he was working for the mob, he would be able to make a hefty wedge like that on his own.

Taking the fifty pounds, he smiled up at Fred. 'You won't hear a dicky, mate.'

'Yeah, yeah,' said Fred, slapping the boy's cheek lightly in a playful way. 'Out with you, lad.'