Chapter Nine

Brendan closed his eyes and attempted to block out the sounds around him. It was midday, almost time for lunch. He had been inside for several months now and it wasn't getting any easier. He had a meeting with his solicitor later but he wasn't optimistic. He heard someone enter his cell and didn't need to open his eyes to realise who it was.

"Foxy." He said lightly, cracking open one eye. He couldn't leave himself vulnerable to Warren Fox.

Warren strode into his cell like he owned the place, taking a seat on the stiff seat next to Brendan's sink. He leaned forwards, curling his fingers together. He stared at Brendan, not saying a word.

"What?" Brendan asked eventually, feeling the muscle twitch in his jaw.

"I have a present for you, mate."

Brendan sat up slowly. "Is that right?"

Warren grinned wickedly. "New prisoner in today."

"And?" Brendan said, disinterested.

"Goes by the name of Hay."

Brendan froze, his insides turning to ice. "What?" He asked harshly.

"See for yourself." Warren said, eyes twinkling.

Brendan stared at him warily, wondering if it was a trick. He leaned forwards threateningly.

"If ye are lying to me…"

Warren held his hands up, smile on his face. "He's in the dining room."

Brendan swung his legs off of the bed and walked stiffly to the door, not wanting to give Warren the satisfaction of seeing him hurry. Once he was out of sight however he sped up, heart pumping madly in his chest.

Steven here? What was going on? What had he done? Brendan began to sweat, palms itchy and tingling. He shouldn't even go to him, after what he had promised himself about a fresh start for Steven. Somehow he found himself drawn to the dining room regardless; instinct carrying him each step of the way.

He scanned the room quickly, bypassing some of the other smaller men, ones he had observed before with a bored disinterest. None were Steven. Brendan's shoulders began to slump, agony tearing at him anew.

"Found him yet?" Warren asked from beside him. He must have followed him.

"No." Brendan said coldly. "Steven's not here."

"Steven?" Warren barked a laugh. "Sorry, mate. I didn't mean him. There are other Hay's you know."

"What?" Brendan turned on him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt.

"Woah, relax! There's someone even better that I know you'll want to get your hands on." Warren nodded behind him and Brendan released him to look. He was gesturing towards a man. He was unremarkable and surly, light haired, lean and gritting his teeth as he glanced around the dining room.

"This some kind of joke?" Brendan hissed.

"You never heard of Terry Hay?" Warren asked, close to his ear.

Brendan deflated, remembering Steven's words about his step dad.

"That man over there beat poor Ste to a pulp." Warren whispered, far too close to his back.

"What would ye know about it?" Brendan retorted, hands balling into fists.

"I was in that village long before you, Brady. I make it my business to learn these things."

"Why have ye shown me this?" Brendan asked, gesturing to the man across the room.

"I thought you'd be pleased." Warren replied, mock gracious. "After all, you two have a lot in common."

Brendan gritted his teeth, not rising to the bait. "Why are ye really doing this?"

Warren laughed. "Still not learnt how to trust anyone, hm?"

"I have my moments." Brendan said slowly.

Warren rolled his eyes, still smiling. "No agenda, promise. Just doing it for a mate."

"We aren't mates." Brendan growled, eyes narrowing.

"Alright." Warren said mildly, stepping round to face him. "But ask yourself this: wouldn't you like to get even with the bloke who knocked your Steven about? I know I would, if it were me."

Brendan jerked, eyes blazing. "Says the man who killed his fiancée and tried to murder Anne."

"You aren't exactly a boy scout yourself, otherwise why would you be in here?" Warren shot back, riled now.

Brendan said nothing, pressing his lips firmly together.

"Fine, do what you like. Don't blame me when he gets out in however many months and you're regretting your decision."

Brendan watched him saunter away, glancing up at the clock in the process. No time to dwell on Terry Hay for now; it was time to meet with his solicitor.

Xxx

Brendan barely left the flat that day. He was hesitant to go out in case Steven came by and he wasn't here. He wanted to show Steven how reliable he could be after years of silence. At a knock on the door Brendan sprung to his feet, smoothing his hair down and breathing into his palm to check his breath. He laughed at himself, wondering why he was behaving like a boy with a crush. Already he could feel the blood pumping through him however; heart rate increased and body beginning to sweat. Steven still had that effect on him, even after all this time.

It wasn't Steven at the door though, it was Mitzeee.

"Brendan!" She pushed her way inside, Phoenix firmly in her arms. "Why didn't you call me?"

"What are ye on about?" Brendan grunted, squashing his disappoint down. Steven said he would be back, he'd promised.

"You and Ste!" She said, exasperated. She made herself and Phoenix comfortable on his sofa. "What happened then?"

Brendan sat down next to her, flinching momentarily when Phoenix climbed onto his knee. He blinked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. Sometimes it astounded and sickened Brendan in equal measure how easily a child could trust, could believe they would always be looked after and protected. Brendan wished someone had been there to protect him.

"You alright?" Mitzeee asked softly, evidently sensing the direction of his thoughts.

"Course." Brendan grunted, ruffling Phoenix's hair. No one would hurt this child, Brendan would make sure of it.

"So Ste?" Mitzeee prompted, smiling kindly.

Brendan sighed, staring into the middle distance. "We… talked. Showered, slept, ye know…"

"You slept with him?" Mitzeee hissed, voice low enough that Phoenix wouldn't pick up on her words.

"Course not!" Brendan replied, affronted. "We just… slept."

Mitzeee sighed in relief.

"Would that really be so terrible though?" Brendan asked, somewhat insulted.

"Of course it would! You're both not ready for that. Especially Ste, he's so vulnerable."

"Yeah." Brendan said, frowning and remembering an earlier concern that had been bothering him. "He's not the same."

"It has been over three years, Bren!"

"No I mean he seems so… scared." Brendan said the last word very quietly. "Is that what I did? When I left him?"

Mitzeee looked apologetic. "He took it hard, before I got here…" she trailed off, troubled.

"He told me about the fire." Brendan told her. "I can't believe he was put in that kind of danger and no one told me."

"In my defence I didn't find out until I got back." Mitzeee interjected. "I'm not even sure Cheryl knew, or knows now."

Brendan felt a pang at the mention of his sister's name. He hadn't spoken to her in so long; he wondered how she was doing, if Nate was treating her right.

"Anyway, all I'm saying is take it slow. Get to know each other again, show Ste you've changed, that you'll stick around this time. You will, won't you?" Mitzeee narrowed her eyes at him. That was more like the old Mitzeee Brendan remembered.

"What do ye take me for?"

"You." Mitzeee said with a shrewd smile.

"I ain't leaving him again, ever." Brendan felt cold all over at the very thought. "He changed everything, Anne. I can't lose him this time."

"That's what I like to hear." Mitzeee smirked at him. "Bit of that Brady fighting spirit. I get to plan the wedding though."

Brendan rolled his eyes, laughing. "Sure."

"Brendan," Mitzeee asked quietly, glancing at Phoenix who had long toddled away from them to play with one of Brendan's shirts. "Did you see Warren inside?"

Brendan gritted his teeth. "I did."

"How… was he?" Mitzeee asked hesitantly.

"Same old Foxy." Brendan sighed. "Obnoxious, fat-"

"Hey!" Mitzeee glared at him. "He was just… muscled."

"Don't defend him." Brendan said, horrified. "Man's a c-"

"Brendan!" Mitzeee scolded, glancing quickly at Phoenix. He grinned up at them, now wearing Brendan's shirt. It was far too big for him of course, trailing across the floor.

"Sorry." Brendan murmured, hiding a smile.

"You need a shave by the way." Mitzeee said, smiling in spite of herself.

"Ye reckon?" Brendan smoothed his hand over his mouth.

"All part of the comeback, right?"

"What are ye saying?"

"Well, you'll reveal yourself now, won't you? To the village?"

Brendan visibly baulked. "Are ye kidding?"

Mitzeee appeared confused. "What did you think would happen? You'd hide away with only me and Ste for company?"

Brendan stared at her as though she was mad. "And that doesn't sound reasonable to ye?"

Mitzeee frowned at him. "You can't just hide away. People need to know you're out and proud, no pun intended." She winked, lips curving into a secretive smile.

"Not yet." Brendan murmured. "I've just found Steven again, I want some alone time first."

"Without Sam finding out?" Mitzeee asked incredulously.

"Steven's a grown man-"

"Yeah but Sam's very…" Mitzeee searched for the right word. "Overprotective."

"And?"

"And he'll wonder what Ste's up to, where he's spending his nights. I can't keep covering for you."

"Anne, I'm only asking for days here. I just want to talk to him properly, we didn't really get the chance before."

Mitzeee sighed, fixing Brendan with a stern look. "When are you seeing him again? Although judging by how disappointed you were to see me, I'd say he said he'd be back today?"

Brendan nodded, feeling intensely vulnerable all of a sudden. "He said he would."

"Then he will." Mitzeee said firmly, grasping his hand suddenly. "When has Ste ever let you down?"

Xxx

Brendan sat opposite Jim McGinn, the solicitor who had achieved the impossible; getting criminals the likes of Mercedes McQueen off the hook and known murderers like Paul Browning. Brendan glared at him across the table, arms folded.

"Mr Brady, Brendan." Jim began, seemingly apologetic.

"Ye wanna explain to me what ye are doing here?"

Jim shuffled some papers on the desk. "I have news, good news." He said, sweating a little.

Brendan raised his eyebrows but that was the only indication he gave that he was listening.

"Your sentence, seven years."

"I haven't forgotten." Brendan said darkly. Admittedly he had expected a much longer sentence but seven years was still a lifetime. Paddy would be well into his teens by then, Declan practically a man.

"What if I told you there's a possibility of a reduced sentence?"

Brendan stared at him blankly. "How?" He finally managed to ask.

"I've been reviewing your case and I don't mean to brag but it was a miracle in itself the sentence you did get-"

"Cut to the chase."

"Right well, as long as you remain on your best behaviour." Jim hesitated, re-thinking. "Well, not your best behaviour; what the court deems worthy, you understand. I could envisage you being out in say… four years? Maybe less?"

Brendan sank further into his seat. "That soon?" He swallowed hard. Three to four years was immeasurably more bearable. He had the potential to start over if he was out that soon. Maybe even Steven-

"You understand what I mean, don't you? I'm talking rehabilitation classes, counselling, no fighting."

Brendan's mind froze on that word. Fighting. He dimly remembered Terry Hay and the numerous things he had planned for him. He hadn't told Warren this of course; he couldn't trust the man. He hesitated, wondering if it was really worth his longer sentence to get even with the man.

Jim must have sensed his hesitation because he spoke up worriedly. "I mean it, Brendan. No incidents. You keep your head down and do whatever they ask of you."

Brendan grunted at that. Jim had no idea what it was like in here. He didn't see the corruption of the guards, the daily violence and threats. Brendan only just held himself together through intimidation and fear; a sentence of manslaughter gave him a certain leverage, made some prisoners believe he was capable of anything, especially considering the recipient of such an act.

"Don't you want to get back to your sister? To Ste?" Jim pressed.

Brendan stared at him in surprise. "Ye have seen him? Steven?" There was a note of anxiety in his voice that Jim picked up on.

"I might have. You could see him you know, he keeps bothering me about visiting orders."

Brendan looked away, resolute. "Not gonna happen."

"But if you could be out in just a few years…"

"Nothing is set in stone." Brendan said coldly.

"Please consider it, Brendan. Carefully." Jim stood up, shuffling his papers back into his briefcase. "I'll be in touch."

Brendan didn't look up, so consumed by his own thoughts he was. The guards led him back to his cell but he didn't stay there. He went out to the yard, spotted Terry easily giving one of the other prisoners lip; some scrawny lad, half his size. Brendan stalked over towards them, perfect poker face on.

"Alright?" He asked, directing his question to the lad.

He nodded sheepishly. He was young, only around eighteen. Brendan jerked his head for him to scuttle away which he did so gratefully.

"Do you mind?" Terry snapped.

"Not particularly." Brendan said mildly, leaning against the fence. "New are ye?"

"Yeah." Terry said, already suspicious. "Who are you?"

"Well, I'm Brendan Brady." Brendan told him. "And I believe ye are Terrence."

"Terry." He corrected, wary now. "How do you know my name?"

"I happen to know yer son." Brendan said, pausing for effect. "Intimately."

Terry visibly recoiled from him. "Excuse me?"

"Ye heard me."

"My Ste ain't no queer."

"Yer Ste is it?" Brendan launched himself away from the fence, getting up close in Terry's face. "The same Ste ye battered?"

"How is that your business?" Terry bit back, undeterred.

"I make it my business, Terrence." Brendan said, voice low. "Steven is my responsibility."

Terry laughed in his face then. "Don't get soppy with me, it's disgusting."

"Is it now? Haven't heard that one before."

"It's wrong, sick. You're wrong."

Brendan barely flinched. "And ye are a dead man walking." Brendan growled, temper rising.

"You can't threaten me."

"No, I can't." Brendan said, more nonchalant now. "I want to get out of here as soon as possible so I won't be laying a finger on ye. But I have men in here who would do anything for some cash, and as it happens I recently came into some money." Brendan's eyes sparkled with rage and unrestrained glee. "So I'd think carefully of yer next words."

Terry spat on the ground, narrowly missing Brendan's shoes. "Filthy queer." He sneered. "Not with Ste now though are you? Why's that? I can't say I'm surprised that he turned out that way. The noises he used to make when I whacked him one, the whimpers! Tragic really, disgusting. I bet you know all about that though, don't you? Big fella like you. I bet Ste got on your nerves too, he has a habit of doing that. He has a face just asking to be smacked-"

Brendan brought his fist inches away from Terry's face, hitting the fence with an almighty clang. Several prisoners glanced their way.

"Congratulations on being one of the world's biggest cunts. Ye will be hearing from me, not directly, but watch yerself." Brendan spoke very quietly, barely controlling his rage. He moved away from Terry before he did something he'd later regret. He had to get out of this place, that was for certain. Terry was right about one thing; he wasn't with Steven, and that had to change.

Xxx

It was growing late and Brendan was becoming restless. He stared out of the window every few minutes, willing Steven to appear in the shadows. He didn't like the idea of him being out so late on his own. Brendan was tempted to go and find him. What if he'd gotten into some kind of trouble?

He sighed heavily, foot tapping impatiently on the floor. He contemplated having a whiskey to calm his nerves but he didn't think Steven would appreciate him smelling of alcohol for their next encounter. He checked the window again, groaning inwardly when all he saw was that ridiculous hedge outside Steven's flat and nothing more.

A knock at the door had Brendan freezing in place. He must have missed him while he was away from the window. Coughing awkwardly, Brendan smoothed his clothes down to make himself more presentable before going towards the door, hoping that Mitzeee had the good grace to not fool him twice.

When he opened the door however it wasn't Mitzeee. It wasn't Steven either.

"Hello, Brendan." Samuel said pleasantly. "I think it's time me and you had a little chat."