The Family Firm

Chapter 16

'Look,' began Beth, her arms raised ahead of her defensively. 'I already told you. Junior needs a father. Especially with him getting pulled from school before he could take his exams, even, it's clear that role model is missing from his life. Now, I love our Fred, I really do, he's me son, but we all know he ain't Man of the Year, now, is he?'

Frankie took great offence to this, and it showed in her countenance. Her mum liked to talk a lot of shite, but somewhere deep down she knew it was true. Fred wasn't that great for her son, sure he loved him to the moon and back but he wasn't that great of a role model. Frankie loved him dearly, she loved Junior too, and while she had wanted better for her son, she didn't necessarily think "the business" as Fred got to calling it was necessarily a bad thing. Plenty of their family members were criminals, she'd grown up all around it, surrounded by it. All the same she had expected more out of her son, but the fact that he was now on the same path as everyone else didn't necessarily upset her. At least, she had come to terms with it.

The only flaw in her mother's logic was the fact that Donny wasn't any better. Sure, it looked like one of Donny's schemes must have finally worked, the way he'd been dressed up like a turkey, but that didn't mean he was any worse for the wear because of it. And she hadn't been a wife out of the magazines either but she couldn't forget that short marriage of theirs, and how bad the break-up had been. She especially couldn't forget what it had done to her son, only two years old at the time. He had to grow up without a daddy and that was, above all, what she hated the most.

'And Donny's even better?' she asked, though suddenly the rage had left her body, as if a switch had just been turned off, or a match extinguished in a breath. And what was left was a certain sadness eddying around her like smoke.

Squeezing her eyes shut sadly, she took a breath and asked, 'Mum, do you even know how badly he treated me? The things he said to me back then? The way he talked about Junior?'

Beth was still on edge, but felt she was temporarily in the clear. Temporarily, because Frankie was prone to temper flare-ups that had only gotten worse when she'd started on the pills. As soon as they wore off, she was jumpy and skittish.

'A lot can change in thirteen years,' she offered weakly.

Frankie laughed sadly and shook her head. 'You're right, Mum. A lot can change in thirteen years. I've changed. So has Junior. And we don't need him. So please, for the love of fucking Christ, keep your nose out of it. Yeah?'

Her mum took a breath and slowly began to resume her snooty demeanour, fixing her posture and sorting out her clothes as if nothing had happened. 'Fine,' she said tautly, striding across the room and towards the kitchen. It was small but nicer than Frankie's, and it was clean, spotless really, her pride and glory. 'Would you like a cuppa, now that you've calmed down?'

Frankie was annoyed, but the fight in her had left like a breath and she took a moment to sort out her hair. 'Sure, Mum.'

Beth spent a few moments readying the kettle and pulling out mugs, and Frankie watched her from the kitchen table. Beth was a lovely woman, in looks not personality. She had youthful skin and kept her hair long and auburn brown, and always dressed nicely, even when she was going to bed. She was in her early sixties but could easily pass for thirty-five, especially due to the number of tasteful procedures and face lifts as she'd had.

She was a well-maintained woman, kept herself as nice and tidy as her drum was. She and Charlie had a decent detached place in Chingford and it was her pride and glory. They had just done renovations on the kitchen and she was proud of this, as proud as she was of her appearance. All in all she had a life to be envied and Frankie did envy her at times, especially because the woman could be so cruel there was no way in hell she deserved it all.

Beth was feeling confident again now that she'd calmed her daughter down, and it was a wonder that she had decided to go right back to egging her on, as if she liked building her up but never liked the actual result of it. 'You know, love, I know you and Donny had your problems but the way it started that marriage was doomed from the start.'

Frankie was too exhausted with her mum's antics to even question why suddenly she was humming a different tune. Beth often did that, said whatever she wanted whenever she wanted to, whenever it suited her. Frankie never knew the reason behind anything her mum did, and had a feeling things went a lot deeper than just antagonising her, which it indeed felt like.

'How so,' she humoured her weakly, her voice completely disinterested.

'Well,' began Beth as she set out the mugs and tea supplies ahead of her daughter. 'Naming his own first-born son after your brother, to start. Were you just antagonising him or what? What did you think was going to happen?'

Frankie felt a flush of shame wash over her face and wished, painfully so, she could dump out a few more pills into her hand. But she knew doing so in front of her mother was only going to add fuel into the fire and so she just had to swallow down her embarrassment and deal with it.

'No,' she said firmly, casting her eyes down at her finger nails in an attempt to look passive, but Beth saw through her façade quickly, knew she was only pretending she wasn't affected by it. And Frankie knew that her mum knew this, because she knew very well her mum said the things she did to purposely upset her.

Clearing her throat to keep her voice steady, she went on, 'Fred's important to me.'

Beth scoffed. 'Well, he's important to me, too, love, but you don't see me naming me kids after him. A man's first-born son is an important thing, should be his daddy's namesake if anything, not his uncle's.'

A part of Frankie, very far deep down, wanted to say that he might have already been, but of course she could never say. That was the last thing she wanted the old bitch to know; she wouldn't be able to swallow that sort of shame.

There was a silence that passed through the kitchen then, one that permeated the place as Beth filled the mugs and fixed them each up a cuppa, and one for Charlie as well. Frankie was broken, emotionally and mentally, and perhaps her mum had seen that she had gone too far, because she didn't say another cruel word to her the rest of the night. They only had their tea in near-silence, with the occasional grunt from Charlie or hum from Beth, and once they were all finished, Frankie quietly excused her and left as if she'd never been there at all.