Paddy was woken by the knocks on his bedroom door. It was insistent, cold.

"Padraig, it's time to get up," called a voice to match

His Dad. Still angry with him. He wondered if Dad was going to drive him into school. Maybe he'd talk to the teachers like Mum did – like a normal parent. Would Ste come too? He didn't know if he wanted that. It would make Ste seem too much like a parent, and Ste was a long way from that.

Well, that was unlikely, anyway. Dad'd probably just drop him off at the gates, and disappear off somewhere. It's not like he was the kind of Dad who made him do homework and checked his reports.

He stumbled out of bed, and dug through the bag his mother packed for him. His school uniform was crumpled from where he'd left it in a bag all night, but he didn't care, and he shoved it on haphazardly, then kept his head down as he went out into the living area.

His Dad was sat on the sofa, flicking through the channels on telly. "That was quick, you ready?" he asked, barely looking at him.

"Is there something to eat?" Paddy asked.

"Nope, not had a chance yet. Thought we'd stop at a café," Dad replied, standing and turning off the telly.

The bathroom door opened and Ste stepped out with just a towel around his waist. He turned pink at the sight of Paddy. "Sorry," he said, and pulled the towel tighter around him, then, after a moment of indecision, darted across the living room to the room he shared with Paddy's Dad. Paddy watched his Dad trail the journey with hungry eyes and a small smirk on his mouth.

"Er, you got to clean your teeth and stuff, yeah?" he said, not looking at Paddy, "Yeah," he answered for him, and got up and followed Ste into the bedroom. Feeling extra sulky, Paddy stropped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Dad was a disgusting pervert. Paddy didn't think about Ste like that. He cared about him, like properly, didn't just want to perve at him. He cleaned his teeth half-heartedly then went out to wait for his father, scowling.

Dad appeared a few minutes later, a grin on his face. He shut the bedroom door behind him, and turned to Paddy, finally looking a little sheepish. "Ready now?"

"Yeah," Paddy replied. "Is Ste coming?"

"No," Dad replied, obviously trying to be kind, "he's still getting dressed, and I thought we could do with a chat."

God, that didn't sound good. The last thing Paddy needed was Dad trying to be nice.

There was a buzz on the intercom. Dad gave him a small smile and answered it, listened for a while, then invited whoever it was up, with a new frown on his face.

He looked at Paddy, suspiciously. "It's the police," he said, "you make any more calls, Padraig?"

"No," Paddy replied, annoyed at the suggestion.

"Right," Dad replied, not looking any less suspicious. He walked to his bedroom and told Ste through the door that some coppers were coming. Ste poked his head round the door.

"Why?" he asked, panic clear in his voice.

"Don't ask me," Dad replied, and looked again at Padraig. Ste followed his gaze.

That was typical, Dad suspecting Paddy, when he hadn't even done anything wrong, "I ain't done anything!" he cried.

"Paddy, we just need to know, that's all," Ste said, trying to be kind.

Paddy let out a noise of disgust, and stormed back to his room, slamming the door behind him. He could listen to any conversation through the door.


Ste stared at the door Paddy slammed behind himself, feeling a panic rise within him he wasn't sure he'd be able to control.

"Hey," said Brendan, calmly, "don't worry, it's probably just about what happened yesterday, like an incident report or something."

"But what if he's…" he trailed off. There was too much Paddy could have done; a repeat of what he'd done before, or something new, or even the truth about Brendan's father.

"We don't know yet," Brendan soothed, "and remember, there's nothing he could have told them that we can't just deny, yeah?"

He pulled Ste out of the bedroom and into his arms, and it was comforting, but probably would have been more so if Brendan had been less jittery.

Eventually Brendan pulled away, and looked at him. "You know, however much I love seeing you like that, you might want to put some more clothes on before the old Bill arrive."

Ste flushed, remembering he wasn't fully dressed, and darted back into the master bedroom to find a top. By the time he came out again, there was a light knocking on the door.

Brendan opened the door. Two again, one the woman from yesterday, the other a different man.

"Mr Brendan Brady," she started, "we met yesterday afternoon, I'm PC Kennedy, and this is PC Stevens. May we come in?"

"Sure," Brendan replied, "is this about Padraig calling yesterday?"

"I'm afraid not sir," she said, sadly, professionally, "do you mind if we all sit down?"

Ste glanced at Brendan, this didn't sound like an accusation, this sounded like bad news.

"What's happened?" he asked, darting forward, images of Amy and the kids flying through his mind.

"I'm afraid we do have some bad news. Mr Brady, your father was found dead two days ago in a farm house near the border."

Ice ran down Ste's body. Part of him knew he should have been more prepared for this moment. Brendan had told him to expect it, the body wouldn't go undiscovered forever, but he was suddenly terrified for Brendan.

Ste wondered if his face showed the right emotion.

Brendan cleared his throat, "How… how did he die?" he asked. And though Ste knew he had to ask, in case he revealed he already knew, he worried if that would be the normal first question of a grieving son.

"We can't be certain until the post mortem," PC Kennedy said, softly, "but it seems he may have committed suicide."

Post mortem? Would that uncover that it wasn't suicide? He looked at Brendan, hoping for a clue how to behave.

Brendan was silent for a few moments longer, like he was deep in thought.

"Are you aware of the history in the family?" he asked eventually, not really looking at the police officers.

"Not me personally, sir, I just intercepted a call that the news was to be given to a Mrs Margaret Brady locally, and Mr Brendan and Miss Cheryl Brady of Hollyoaks, Cheshire. As I knew you were here, sir, I offered to bring the news myself."

"Well maybe you should have checked," Ste said, suddenly annoyed. What were they thinking? Even if they didn't know the truth about what happened to Brady, they still should have been aware of the warrant for Brady's arrest and what the charge was. This was the sort of thing that had stopped Brady being found in time.

"Well, thank you for your time, officers," Brendan said, more calmly, but still coldly, "but maybe once you've checked my father's record you will understand why we are not crippled by grief."

The officers glanced at each other.

"Er…" Kennedy started.

"Good bye, then," Brendan interrupted.

The police officers looked at each other, "Er, we do have some formalities we need to ask of you, identification of the body for example."

"And I have two children I need to tell that they're Grandfather is dead," Brendan said angrily.

"We'll come to the station when they're at school, yeah?" Ste interrupted, trying to calm the situation.

"Thank you, Mr … Hay was it?" Kennedy asked.

"Yeah," Ste replied, already moving towards the door.

"Mr Hay," she repeated, looking at him carefully. Ste opened the door for them, and they trooped out. His heart was beating far too fast, though his chest felt like an elephant was sat on it, and he couldn't meet their gazes as they passed him. It took all his effort not to slam the door behind them.

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