The Family Firm

Chapter 59

The hum of the familiar BMW was lulling Katie nearly to sleep. With a belly full of delicious Easter food and the low-hanging sun casting its warm rays on her face in the otherwise briskly-cold evening, she had reached a peak of satisfactory comfort, and let her eyes flutter shut as she rested her cheek to the cool window.

The fact that she was so comfortable with Freddie Evans as her chauffeur was something she had never imagined possible before then. Everything about Freddie was, from the outside looking in, tense and dangerous, like a viper, both unaware and accepting of its violent, venomous nature. Perhaps this was why her mother had warned her away from him, as if something deep inside her had told her to. Or, perhaps it was simply because of his profession. He was a gangster, a hard man, a criminal. Not the type of man one would want around their fourteen year-old daughter.

Only a few years ago, the closest Katie ever got to a man like him, even with her natural curiosity for danger, was the occasional wide boy, or the thuggish lads from her school. Now, she was dating one, a real criminal, whose uncle was a man she had once feared and loathed, a man who currently sat beside her as if they were old friends. Which they were, in a way.

If only her mother could see her now. She would be rolling in her grave! Katie remembered the look in her eyes when she even mentioned his name, the fear she had seen. She had no doubts that her mum, as a prostitute, would have known more about the criminal world than she herself did. But maybe she knew something Katie didn't. Kate, of course, had a vague knowledge that Freddie was violent, but she didn't know how far that violence went. Had he killed someone? Multiple people? Had he stolen, raped, abused?

She subtly peered upwards at him through her long lashes. He was sat casually in his seat, one hand on the driving wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him. In that moment, with the sun glinting off his sunglasses, he looked like any other man in his forties, just like . . . well, an uncle. His tattoos were mainly covered by his nice suit, though she could make out the tip of something on his neck, and some writing beneath the cuff of his shirt. She had never really studied him like this, she realised. He was so . . . simple. So non-threatening. He was just a man, just flesh and bone, like the rest of them.

It was almost laughable, really. She had never trusted him, and still, she wasn't certain if she did even then. But he had shown her nothing but kindness, even if he was a "bad man". He was a bit like Junior in the sense that, while a bit brash, he was soft around the edges, where it counted. Then again, he was a bit like Junior in more ways than just that.

'Falling asleep, are you?' came his deep rumble of a voice suddenly, and Katie pulled herself away from her thoughts and back into reality. She had been staring at his tattoos for so long she hardly even noticed when he had turned his head briefly to look at her.

She smiled, almost sheepishly, before realising the vulnerability that smile gave her, and almost as soon as it had appeared it vanished. Sitting a bit more upright, more properly guarded, she furrowed her brows slightly. 'Nah, I'm awake.' She realised how pitifully tired she sounded, and was somewhat aware that her mannerisms were coming off like a petulant child.

Freddie seemed amused by her, but as almost if to grant her some kind of mercy from his patronising, kept his eyes cast forward. 'You wanna know summink?'

'What?'

The gangster's smile hadn't left. 'Ten years its been since we met properly. Do you remember?'

Katie watched him curiously. He was indeed just like an uncle, or a father, reminiscing and all. 'Yeah,' she admitted after a moment. 'I remember. I thought you was a nonce.'

He laughed aloud at her abrasiveness, thought somewhere in the back of her mind, Katie knew not everyone would get away with such wild accusations without serious repercussions.

'Yeah, well, I don't blame you,' he said casually, tapping his fingers against the driving wheel, his rings clinking rhythmically as they made contact with the material. 'I suppose, in retrospect, it were a bit odd, coming up to you like that. But I just . . . had to do it, y'know? Like an impulse.'

Katie's eyes hadn't left his bulky form, and his softened demeanour and voice hadn't gone unnoticed. She said nothing, and Fred continued: 'Your mum . . . was a dear friend of mine. A very dear friend. She just wanted what was best for you, I know that now. As a . . . an uncle, I realise that. Back then, I thought I was very selfish for wanting some sorta relationship with you, and I'm sure your dear old mum thought the same thing. But the truth is, it was fate. It had to be. You and Junior would never have . . . – Well, without you, he'd be beside himself after what happened to Niamh, may she rest in peace.'

Katie had never heard Freddie speak so candidly. She was awestruck, really, watching him in disbelief as he prattled on. She hadn't really any idea what he meant by most of that. If she were a bit shrewder she might have realised that his ramblings were coloured with the distinct tinge of guilt.

As if realising his own foolishness, Fred suddenly broke into a grin and glanced towards her, but Katie realised that smile hadn't quite reached his eyes. 'Don't listen to me, Katie love. Just getting sentimental-like from the festivities and all.'

She wasn't sure what to think, so she simply nodded, her brow creased. After considering for a moment, she added: 'I'm glad. That we met, I mean.'

For a moment, the two of them simply looked at one another, with nothing but the soft purr of the engine and the smooth rolling of tyres on tarmac to accompany them, until after a bit Katie scoffed and remarked, 'All right, what are we, a couple of old ladies? Bloody hell, if I wanted that much soft shit I'd look in a nappy.'

A beat passed before Fred broke into honest, unashamed laughter. Katie couldn't help but join in, and the two of them shared the beautiful moment, both subtly aware of its significance, laughing themselves silly as if a kind of grief had finally been overcome. And it felt bloody good.