AN: Gosh, sorry it's been ages. Trying to balance real life which is already too full, with trying not to short change you by updating unthoughtout stuff (like the last chapter)

I hope you enjoy this. Thanks for the lovely reviews, please do keep them coming. Will try to update more often, but do need to decide where it goes first.

"We can't pick 'em up from school!"

"Nah, they'll love it!"

"Brendan! They'd hate it. They'd never talk to us again!"

The car was rolling out of the port slowly, Brendan driving with Ste beside him. The crossing had been easy and they'd had a greasy lunch on board.

At the last minute, Ste had chickened out of bringing Leah and Lucas. He had been dwelling on Eileen's possible reactions to them since the trip had been planned. The last time he'd seen her, they'd barely made eye contact, and Ste knew it would only take the smallest thing to go wrong or be taken the wrong way to start a blazing row. Maybe even the big blazing row that had been brewing since she first walked in on him and Brendan that summer that seemed so long ago now.

And on top of that there was the Paddy problem. Ste had hoped it would get easier in time, as they got used to each other and the memories became less fresh. It didn't work that way. As Paddy got older, had his birthday, his voice starting to break, looking less like a child and more like a teenager, Ste just realised how Paddy would be understanding things better and better. Maybe he always had known exactly what he'd walked in on, maybe Ste had just blocked it from his mind, but it was so painful spending time with him, worrying about what he thought, whether he felt disgust or pity. Ste wasn't sure which would be worse.

So he'd decided Leah and Lucas would be happier with Mike, and found an excuse for Brendan. They had somehow managed to hide most of the tension from Brendan. He and Paddy seemed to have an unspoken understanding on that – Brendan didn't need to know how it was. And he didn't feel guilty about it at all. He smiled at Brendan, who was laughing away at the thought of causing his sons extreme embarrassment. He'd been so happy recently. He was seeing someone about his anger, he was out to everyone they knew, he treated Ste like a prince, and he had managed to hide all evidence of drugs from him too (though Ste wasn't stupid enough to think that wasn't a major income for Brendan). There'd been some touchy moments of jealousy too. They went to a club a few days ago, and Brendan had been thrown out for punching a guy who got too close to Ste. They'd had a massive row about it in the street and then Ste had stormed off alone, only for Brendan to turn up the next day, apology and romance in tow.

Ste was finding it hard to stay angry with him these days.

And he really enjoyed the make-up sex.

And the angry sex. And the playful, jokey sex. And day ending in a y sex. Sex with Brendan was like nothing on Earth. Brendan could play Ste like a virtuoso played the violin. No one else had ever managed anything like it. He grinned at him, thinking about the night before last (he'd spent last night with the kids, naturally) particularly a wonderful new move Brendan had tried on his ear, before remembering they were supposed to be arguing.

"They'll hate it if we just show up at their school, with all their mates around."

"Naah," said Brendan, pulling the vowel out with a gleeful look on his face.

"But my mate's Dad picked him up from school once, and I took the mick out of him for ages."

Brendan glanced at him, "Why did you do that?"

"'Cause I was jealous; my Mum never picked me up from anywhere after I learned to walk."

"Well then…"

"That's not the point, Bren…"

"Well, what is then?"

"Paddy and Declan won't like it. We should just meet them at Eileen's like we said."

Brendan pulled the car onto the main road, still grinning "Ah, go on, it'll be a laugh!"

Ste laughed aloud, "You actually find it hilarious, don't ya? Humiliating your own kids!"

"A bit," Brendan grinned back.

The journey continued in silence, and the houses got closer together, as they trundled the familiar route to Eileen's.

"It's not time yet, anyway," Ste said, unnecessarily.

Brendan grinned, "I know," they pulled off the road.

"Where are we going?" Ste asked.

Brendan grinned, but didn't answer. They drove into a car park.

"Why are we here?" Ste asked, screwing up his face as the buildings around him.

"Just… just wait here," Brendan replied as he parked the car.

"What?" Ste asked, looking around him. It was a town centre car park. Brendan could be going anywhere.

"Stay here," Brendan repeated, and grinned at him annoyingly, getting out of the car, and strolling away.

"But…" Ste protested.

He heard an electronic ringing noise. His phone was in his pocket, but it wasn't coming from there. He felt around the gap between the seats, before he found Brendan's.

"Brendan, your phone…" he shouted.

Brendan didn't pause in his steps. "Get it will ye? It's probably Cheryl." he called over his shoulder.

"But…"

But Brendan had gone. Ste stared after him bemused, then checked around him. He had a vague idea where he was, they'd been shopping here before. There were some nice restaurants, some clothes stores, a couple of clubs around, but he still had no clue. Still bemused, he answered Brendan's phone.

It was only a voicemail anyway. The phone must have fallen out of Brendan's pocket before they got out on the boat. Ste listened intently.


Paddy had never been so uncomfortable in his life. He couldn't straighten his legs, and he'd had to bend himself around heavy looking bags he was at the wrong angle to move. His belly ached from the punches his Grandfather had delivered there. He couldn't lie on his back because it pulled on the muscles there, nor on his front because that would be putting his weight on his newly forming bruises, so he was balanced in the shallow boot on his side, trying to cushion his head on bumps and ignore the nasty smells.

It had taken him a little while to realise that his Grandfather had forgotten about his mobile. His Dad was the first and only person he could think of calling. No one else would understand what was going on and be able to do anything about it. He trusted his Dad. Surely he would help.

He couldn't hold back the sobs when he got through to voicemail. He couldn't believe his Dad would miss such an important call. He left a message, "Dad, it's me. Where are ye? Look I'm in… Granddad… I think he forgot I have a phone, but he's locked me in his boot and … please, Dad, help me…"

Then he hung up. That was enough wasn't it? Dad would ring back. He couldn't have carried on talking if he'd tried. So he lay in the dark, waiting as long as he dared, watching the bars of battery in panic, trying to stop crying.

It seemed to take an age for the phone to ring – a jingling sound that seemed so loud, even over the engine. He could have kicked himself as the car stopped a second later, the engine suddenly silenced, before he could answer.

"Dad?" he whispered terror in lacing his voice.


"No it's Ste, are you OK?" Ste replied, shaking already.

The sobbing continued, "Where's my Dad?"

"I don't know, he's just… Paddy, what happened?"

The sobbing got louder. Between the sounds, Paddy managed "Granddad. I… he stopped me," Paddy could barely talk between the sobs, "… and… he… locked me… in the boot."

"Where are ya?"

"I … don't … know. In the boot," the sobs were distorting his voice, and Ste was searching desperately for a sign of Brendan returning.

A sad, sneaky thought occurred to Ste; "Paddy, you're not lying are you?"

"Nooooo!" Sobbed Paddy with such misery Ste felt ashamed to have asked.

"Ok, OK, it'll be OK, Paddy, we'll find you," Ste said, trying to calm himself as much as anything.

"Where's my Dad? I know… I know you can't … you can't fight Granddad, so…"

"Paddy, we'll …" he imagined Brendan's reaction to this. He would probably commit murder. "We'll find you…" he finished lamely.

Paddy didn't respond. Was the sobbing quieter? He wasn't sure. "Paddy?" he tried. No reply, so he tried again, "Paddy?"

"Steven," came the calm, low answer in the most hateful voice in the world.

Ste didn't reply, but felt the hatred bubbling up inside him.

He heard some laughter, then the slamming sound. The boot must have been slammed shut.

"Steven," the dreaded voice repeated.