The Family Firm

Chapter 34

2000

'Merry Christmas!'

The house in Romford was packed to the brim with Evanses. Christmas Eve was one of the few times out of the year that they all got together and ignored their differences, young and old, and it was always the gala of the century; every party topped the last.

This year, Frankie had treated them all with a big Christmas feast with a full hog roast, potatoes, chestnut stuffing, sprouts, and all sorts of trimmings. To finish the night, they had drinks and were all seated in the spacious lounge, listening to the classic music that never seemed to tire around that time of year. A Christmas Carol was playing idly on television as they all sat and enjoyed the natural mirth that came with the holiday season.

Freddie was watching his family mingle from the sofa. His sister was sat next to him and pissed out of her nut, on her umpteenth glass of wine that she nor nobody else bothered counting. She was fawning over Junior's new fiancée Niamh, whom he'd been arse-over-tit for during the past half a year. Niamh was pretty and young and dumb, Junior's type and honestly Freddie's too, and the mobster knew his sister was jealous of the girl's youth. She hadn't given the poor thing a break since they'd gotten there.

'Let's see that ring again, eh?'

Niamh, a fair-skinned, blonde-haired, svelte young woman, raised her dainty hand and exposed the enormous diamond ring Junior had stuck on her finger. All the women ooh'd and aah'd at the garish piece of jewellery, but after the first few times, Fred couldn't be arsed to even glance over.

He felt Junior's eyes on him, and as he met his gaze, he saw how happy he was. He couldn't fault the boy for that. Niamh was a catch; she was tall and thin with model-like looks, a long, slender neck, and she knew how to dress herself. As long as she kept her mouth shut—both because of her unsightly teeth and the fact that she was as dumb as a bag of bricks—she was a good companion.

Freddie winked at Junior as if to remind him of this, and the lad beamed back. He was always looking for his uncle's approval, and was thankful whenever he got it.

Betty Evans, the matriarch of the clan, more often called Nan, held Niamh's hand in her own small, trembling one, to inspect the ring. She held a cigarette in her free had which had ashed up considerably. Looking from the ring up to her great-grandson Junior, not so much as sparing his blonde fiancée a glance, she said in the frail voice that came with being almost a hundred years old; 'You better keep this one, lad; you already spent a bleeding fortune on her.'

The whole gaff seemed to erupt in laughter, and even Freddie found himself smiling as he ran his fingers through his sister's long, well-maintained hair. He watched everyone enjoying themselves; his father Charlie squeezing his elderly mum Nan's shoulders fondly, and her patting his hand in the only real affection she ever showed; his step-mum Beth chatting with Niamh about the upcoming wedding; Frankie kissing Junior's cheeks and professing her motherly love for him for the hundredth time. His uncles, aunts, and cousins of all sorts were chatting and drinking, and it was a genuinely good night. He hadn't had one of those in a long time.

The front door open and in stepped Katie, her navy blue pea jacket dusted with snow, cheeks and nose flushed from the cold. She kicked the crusted ice from her boots before stepping further into the warmth of the house, peeling off her gloves as she made her way into the packed-like-a-tin lounge.

Junior caught her gaze and looked up from his seat, a pleased grin curling up on the corners of his lips. 'Katie.'

She smiled in return and raised her hand slightly in greeting. 'Hey, Junior.'

Freddie watched her intently as she strode forward, and gently slipped away from Frankie as he stood. 'Let me take your coat for you, love. Can I get you summat to drink?'