There were a few men waiting outside and Tania saw immediately that they were aware of what had gone on. Unlike her, though, they had kept away from it all. She saw the way they avoided her daddy’s eyes, and she was reminded of how no one in her orbit, whether at school or playing out in the street, ever said anything detrimental to her or about her. Everyone she knew bent over backwards to please her, and she realised then that was because of her daddy. Because people were frightened of him.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

‘Will you just go over and say hello?’ Ria had had a few drinks, and she was irritated with her husband and his brother. This was the kids’ day, not theirs.

Peter sighed. ‘Stop it, Ria, and I mean it. We’ve done our bit, so let it drop, all right?’

‘I think it’s fucking ridiculous, but fine, that is my last word on the subject.’

Peter smiled despite himself. ‘Well, thank fuck for small mercies.’

Even Ria laughed at that. She glanced over towards Lena and frowned. Daniel was handing Lena little Tania, and he looked fit to be tried.

‘Pete, something’s happened. Look at little Tania, she looks ill, bless her, and your Daniel looks like someone’s nicked his bike.’

Peter sighed theatrically. ‘She’s probably eaten too many sweets. Remember the boys on their Communion days? Sick as fucking pigs. And, as for Imelda, she puked all over my mum’s fur coat.’

Ria laughed again; she had forgotten about that.

Peter swigged his beer and decided to ignore his wife. Actually he knew exactly what was bothering his brother, and he would have been as angry himself had it been his boys out on the rob like that. Fucking fools! Armed robbery was not a game for amateurs – it was a fucking serious job and it came with even more serious sentences; twelve to eighteen years for a capture. The judiciary frowned on people taking money from the banks. Rob a poor old fucker’s house, take everything they had worked for all their life, even give them a dig, and you were in and out in a year. But, as always in this country, money and property took precedence over people. It was a fucking joke.

The Dalys were now marked men, and so they should be. Treacherous little fuckers, engaging those lads in their fucking affairs – it was an outrage. More so because they should never have dared attempt a blag in London without permission. They had used Daniel’s lads as a means of getting their big fat Scally feet in the Baileys’ doorway.

Noel and Jamsie were nice lads, but they were not exactly a pair of Albert fucking Einsteins, more Albert fucking Tatlock, if the truth be told. Especially after this fucking performance.