Peter looked at his own daughter, and her swollen belly. He would be back in this church soon, welcoming his first grandchild into the Catholic faith. He hoped his Imelda calmed herself down sooner rather than later; he could already feel Delroy’s irritation towards her and, in all honesty, he could understand the man’s feelings. Delroy had more than proved his loyalty and Peter had slowly changed his tune about his son-in-law. Now he saw him as a man he could trust. In fact, he saw a lot of himself in Delroy. And Imelda was far too insecure for a man like him. His Ria, who he worshipped, had always had the sense to turn a blind eye when necessary, she knew he would always come home to her. But his Imelda was so aggressive and so insistent about working in the business, all to keep an eye on her husband.

Peter sighed. The Mass was ending at last. He just wanted it all over now.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

As the family filed out of the church after the ceremony, Daniel caught up with his brother. ‘I appreciate you coming, Peter, I know you didn’t want to.’ He was smiling as he said it.

Peter didn’t answer him, letting the anger at his brother’s stupidity wash over him. Daniel clearly believed that his attendance today meant they were once again back on track. He still thought that he could do whatever he wanted and that, if he acted contrite, Peter would welcome him back with open arms.

Peter Bailey stared into his brother’s face, and he saw the handsome man he had loved, the blue eyes so like their mother’s, the genuine affection for Peter in them, and the total lack of comprehension at the situation they were in.

‘I came for Mum, Lena and Ria. You don’t ever make any kind of contact with me again, Daniel. You baptised your baby today all the time knowing you fucking murdered a child. I know, Daniel, that you planned that. You knew you were going to kill that little boy, you knew he was the apple of his father’s eye, you wanted Alfie to know his boy would die with him. That’s you all over, Daniel. You’re a vicious, wicked cunt. Now, leave me alone. I can’t look at you without seeing that little child, bloodied and dying and innocent. You get off the coke, and you sort your fucking self out, but you don’t come near me, you hear?’

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Theresa was drunk as a lord, and she knew that it was the only way she could get through this day. Peter and Daniel, her boys, her babies, were now further apart than ever.