The Sins of the Father

Liam has always known he was adopted. His adoptive parents had always been honest about that. He did see Alan and Josie, who raised him, as his parents, but now, in his late twenties, he started to wonder about his biological parents. The idea niggled at him. The thought always seemed to be there at the back of his mind, like an annoying internet pop-up, you could never shut down.

He decided that he would like to know more about his biological parents. He wasn’t looking to replace Alan and Josie, they would always be his mum and dad, but there were so many questions that they couldn’t answer. Even things like, medical history, was all just a blank. Whenever the doctors asked if his family had a history of heart disease, he would respond with a shrug, explaining that he was adopted.

One Monday morning, he told work he would be a bit late to the office. The previous afternoon, over a few lunchtime drinks with friends, he had decided to go for it. The idea had once again come to mind, and he knew this was it. Now was the time. He would phone the adoption agency and ask where they went from here regarding contacting his birth parents. 

Just after ten o’clock that morning, after several cups of tea, and pacing the living room for half an hour, he took out his mobile phone and dialled the number.

A receptionist answered the phone in a chirpy voice and asked how she could help him today. Liam explained how he had been adopted as a child and hoped they could help provide the details of his birth parents.

‘Of course, the woman said, if I could just take a few details from you.’ She said.

Liam answered her questions, pausing as she typed away on the keyboard. After a few moments, while Liam chewed his fingernails anxiously, waiting to find out if they could help, she was back.

‘Thank you for holding. We’ve retrieved your records. I’ve got the details here on the system. We’ll send a letter out containing the details they had of his biological parents.’

Liam thanked her, adding that it really meant a lot.

‘That’s what we’re here for. The letter should be with you in the next couple of days. In the meantime, if there’s anything else we can do, even if you just need to talk things over, just give us a call.’

‘Thank you so much.’ Liam said.

‘Take care, love.’ She said before hanging up the phone. 

A few days later, he arrived home from work to find the letter on the mat. He shrugged out of his coat and took the letter through to the living room. He stared at the marked envelope for a long moment, wondering just what life-changing information it held. He sensed that he was on the threshold of a new life. Finally, he carefully opened the envelope. 

The letter provided the name and date of birth of his mother. The last records of his birth mother was listed as being out of the country. According the letter, the trail went cold there. It appeared his mother would remain a mystery, apart from the sparse details printed on the paper in front of him.

The next line gave the details of his biological father. Full name, date and place of birth. Also included are current address and telephone numbers. He read the letter and the details over and over, not quite daring to believe that this was actually happening. He had the details of his biological father. His flesh and blood. The letter trembled in his hands. He had more information in the few lines than he’d had his entire life.

That evening he called round to his adopted parents’ house. He took a seat on the sofa in the living room he’d grown up in. As he sipped his mug of tea, Liam explained about the letter from the adoption agency. 

‘They say my birth father’s name is William Lynch, and he lives in Salford.’ 

‘That’s not Billy Lynch of the Lynch family? Do they live on that new housing estate by the Manchester Ship Canal?’ His dad said. 

‘Yes, that’s them. How do you know them?’ Liam asked. 

His adopted father shook his head in disgust.

‘They are a bunch of villains. That lot are notorious. They are always in the news for being up in court, accused of all sorts. The Manchester Evening News is always reporting on their exploits. And that’s just what they’ve been caught doing. You really don’t want to get involved with that lot, son.’

‘I’ll have a think about it.’ Liam said, trying to hide his disappointment.

As his mother showed him to the door, she placed a hand on his arm and spoke in a whisper.

‘Don’t mind your father. He means well. He’s just looking out for you, love.’ His mother said. 

‘I know.’ Liam nodded. The man who had raised him had given him something to think about regarding his biological father. 

Over the next few days Liam mulled things over. He checked out online the notorious Lynch family. The family certainly did seem to be trouble. Every area of the country had those families whose names are spoken with fear and trepidation, who the police know more than other law-abiding members of the community. 

If Liam’s biological father was the head of the notorious clan his father had warned him about then he would have to tread carefully. But could he really do nothing? Could he really have this information, this intelligence, in front of him and not take full advantage?

This was a chance he had to take. He really didn’t have a choice. This was his biological family, after all. While he didn’t know what he was getting into, or who exactly he was getting involved with, the not knowing would be worse than whatever was about to happen.

As he drove home from work one evening, Liam went over what he would say, and possible scenarios. He would do it this evening. He had to do it soon, otherwise he would never do it. 

‘Hello, could I speak to Mr William Lynch, please?’

‘Who’s this?’ Snapped a woman. 

‘My name is Liam, could I speak to him?’

‘Billy,’ the woman called out, ‘phone for you.’

A moment later, a gruff voice came on the line.

‘This is Billy, who’s that?’

Liam explained that he had been given his details by the adoption agency. That he is his biological father.

‘Wow, right, I don’t really know what to say.’ Billy sighed heavily, his breath coming down the receiver.

‘Would you be open to meeting me, to talk things through?’ Liam asked.

There was a long pause, before Billy replied, go on, then. 

And so, just over a week later, Liam pushed through the frosted glass door of the café Billy had suggested meeting in. The place was at least thirty years past its prime. The furniture was red plastic and reminded him of a greasy spoon café you’d find at the back of an amusement arcade at a run-down seaside resort.

The place was pretty busy, a lot of the tables taken up with diners, drinking mugs of tea and getting stuck into large plates of fried food. Liam had a rough idea of what Billy looked like from the news reports online. There was no sign of him. Unsure quite what to do, he headed to the counter and ordered a mug of tea.

He took the chipped mug, emblazoned with the name of a local decorating firm and found a free table. Liam sipped his tea and waited. 

Around fifteen minutes later, Billy came through the door. Liam recognised him straight away. His greying hair was shaved close to the scalp, and he wore a sky-blue tracksuit. Billy glanced around the café, looking for the man who claimed to be his son. Liam raised his hand awkwardly. Billy nodded. As he headed to Liam’s table, he turned and called out to the woman behind the counter.

‘Two mugs of tea, and two bacon butties, please, Denise.’ 

Denise looked up from buttering a slice of toast, yes, love.

Billy slid into the seat facing Liam and glared at him, saying nothing, for a moment that seemed to last for five minutes. Liam could imagine the man facing police questions in a similar manner. Liam said nothing, staying quiet, rather than say the wrong thing.

‘So, you’re my boy, then?’ Billy said, finally. 

‘Yes, that’s right. As I said on the phone, the adoption agency gave me your details. Thanks so much for meeting me.’

The waitress placed mugs of tea and plates with bacon sandwiches in front of each of them. Billy thanked her and took a bite of his sandwich.

‘Can I ask how you came to give me up for adoption?’ Liam said.

Billy shrugged, wiping the ketchup from his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he spoke.

‘We were young, I was in and out of prison all the time. I wasn’t the model citizen you see before you.’ Billy smiled. ‘Just kidding. I was young and stupid and was always getting caught.  And things between me and your mam weren’t great. And when you came along, we didn’t really have any option. We were in no position to raise kids.’  

‘And what about my mother. The agency has no up-to-date record for her.’ Liam said.

Billy’s expression hardened as he explained that Liam’s mother had left him years ago.

‘She went off to Spain in the end, with her fancy-man.’ He added.

There was bitterness and hatred in his voice. Billy shook his head and continued.

‘None of that matters now, though, does it, boy? You’re here, you’ve come back to your roots, back your blood. That’s the main thing.’

Liam simply smiled, uncomfortable under the older man’s glare. 

Half an hour later, Billy got to his feet and zipped his tracksuit top up to his chin, explaining that he had people to see, business to take care of. Liam didn’t want to know what type of business his father would be taking care of. Liam simply thanked Billy for meeting up with him. His father looked him in the eye, holding his gaze for a long moment. 

‘Family is family. Nothing else matters. Family, that’s what counts.’ Billy said.

Liam was taken back by the emotion in Billy’s voice. Perhaps this meeting also meant a lot to Billy too. While he had been seeing things from his own perspective, it suddenly occurred to him that this was just as big a deal for his father. Liam hoped they would get through this together. While the years could never be replaced, perhaps they could still learn to be close.

Despite being, what he considered to be a little rough around the edges, Liam couldn’t hep being intrigued by the man and his family. These people were his family, his blood. It clearly meant something to Billy too. 

As new diners entered the café, they called out, greeting Billy by name. 

‘Would you be up to meeting up again?’ Liam asked.

‘Yeah, absolutely. I’d like that. I can’t wait introduce you to the family.’ Billy said. 

They swapped mobile phone numbers and headed for the door. Liam stopped and pointed to the counter.

‘Oh, we’ve not paid the bill.’ Liam said. 

‘It’s fine. They don’t charge me anything.’ Billy said. 

‘How’s that?’

‘They know who I am.’

Liam tried to keep the alarm from his face. He flinched at what was left unsaid. They know who I am, and what I am capable of. 

Out on the street, Liam hugged the older man. Billy patted him on the back and said he would be in touch. Liam watched as he walked away, sauntering down the street as though he owned it. 

Over the next few weeks Liam and his father exchanged calls and messages. They would chat about anything and everything. Liam simply enjoyed the contact with his father, and he sensed that Billy felt the same. There was a warmth and a humour in their exchanges. 

One Saturday evening, Billy messaged inviting Liam over the following afternoon for a brew. Liam couldn’t help smiling as he read the message. His biological father was asking him to call over for a cup of tea. That sounded lovely, it sounded like a real family thing to do. Liam replied that it sounded like a plan and asked for the address.

When he woke and stretched the next morning, his plans for the day popped into his head. Today was a big day. He was meeting his biological family. These were his blood relatives. While Alan and Josie would always be his parents, and would forever have a special place in his heart, the thought of meeting people he was bonded to by blood made his heart race. He just hoped it went well. The initial meeting had gone well and he and Billy had connected. Liam really wanted today to go smoothly. He wanted to get along well with the family and hoped that the reports of the notorious family were as his grandmother used to say, tabloid tittle-tattle.

Billy’s house looked like every other terraced house on the narrow street. Liam was reminded of a TV soap opera that was set in a street just like this. Liam got out of his car and headed to the house. He was about to knock on the door when it was flung open and a young man in a tracksuit brushed by him.

‘Is Billy there?’ Liam asked the man.

‘He’s in the back.’ The guy pointed, before walking away down the street. 

Liam took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. 

The house was like nothing else he’d ever experienced. The place was so busy. Each room was crammed with people. They bustled in and out constantly. It had the hectic feel of a busy city-centre Bed & Breakfast hotel, rather than a family home. Men and women of all ages, all talking over each other. The chatter hurt his ears. Everyone was talking, with the rapid-fire speed of horse racing commentators, and nobody was listening. Some chatted on mobile phones, talking even louder to be heard in the din. They all wore sports clothing, tracksuits, trainers and hoodies. It was almost a uniform. Liam couldn’t help feeling over-dressed in his jeans and jacket. 

There was so much going on in the home, that nobody noticed him. If he’d have walked in most houses, someone would have asked who he was and what he was doing there. In this bustling home, he blended into the background like one extra face on the Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper album cover.

He found Billy sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a mug of tea, surrounded by people. When Billy saw Liam hovering awkwardly in the doorway, he grinned. Billy got to his feet and waved his hands, welcoming him in.

‘Here he is!’ He boomed. ‘This is my boy Liam.’ 

The chatter stopped for a moment, while everyone studied him. Suddenly, everyone huddled around him, making a fuss, shaking hand and introducing themselves. Billy stood proudly by his side, while the family fussed over him. One woman pecked him on the cheek.

‘He’s got your eyes, Billy, love.’ She said. 

The family unit itself was so confusing. There were so many cousins and nieces and nephews, and aunts and uncles. Liam wondered if all these people were actually related, or if they referred to any close friend as a cousin or uncle.

A mug of tea was handed to him, and he was offered a seat at the table, despite most of the people standing or leaning against the worktop. The conversations filling the room picked up where they left off. There was talk of deals being made, and prices per kilo, and deliveries and trucks. There was mention of shipments coming in. Having read the recent headlines regarding the family, Liam assumed this was the illegal activities that would land them in court every now and then. 

While the idea of the family dealing in criminal activities didn’t sit well with him, Liam had to admit he had never been made to feel so welcome by a group of strangers. After a while he got used to the hectic chatter and chaos. As well as talking about their criminal enterprises, there was banter and jokes and lots of funny stories. There was a real warmth between everyone. They were close, they were a tight unit.

One guy, apparently a cousin, regaled the group with a joke about a woman taking her dog to the vets. 

‘And then she says, ‘No, I’m getting his claws clipped!’’ He said, as the room was filled with laughter at the punchline.

Ninety minutes later, Liam got to his feet and told anyone who was listening amid all the chaos, that he was making a move. As he headed to the door, his new family patted him on the back, shook his hand once more, said it was lovely to meet him, and told him not to be a stranger. 

Billy dashed after him. On the doorstep, the older man hugged him.

‘Thanks for coming over. It means a lot.’ Billy said.

‘It’s been nice.’ Liam said. ‘I’ve enjoyed it.’

After that, Liam started spending a lot of his free time with Billy and the family. He would call by the house, unannounced and catch up with Billy if he was there, or the other family members if Billy wasn’t around. There was also the local pub that was something of a family hang-out. He found that with Billy and the family, you didn’t really need to make plans to meet or to agree a time to call over. You could just turn up unannounced, and the kettle would always be on, you’d always receive a warm welcome and a cup of tea. 

As well as his father, Liam found there was also a wider circle of friends that he was enjoying getting to know. When he arrived at the pub for a few pints with them, he would be greeted so warmly. Every now and then it would occur to him that he hadn’t known these people that long. It really did feel like he’d known them years. He felt so welcome and like he belonged. He had always been something of an outsider, and never had a large group of friends. Suddenly, he had a large circle that relished his company.

In the pub one evening, Billy was holding court, talking about Manchester United’s chances in their cup tie at the weekend. One guy, a friend of the family scoffed at Billy’s suggestion of formation for Saturday’s game. 

The room fell silent. Liam looked on. Clearly you didn’t disagree with Billy, regardless of the topic under discussion. To Liam it was a ridiculous subject to argue over, but to Billy, it clearly went deeper. Billy obviously saw it as a slur, an implication that he didn’t know what he was talking about.

‘What did you say?’ Billy asked.

‘I said, don’t talk rubbish.’ He repeated. The guy shrugged, either misreading or ignoring the threat in Billy’s tone.

It all happened so fast. Billy reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. He leaned over the table and grabbed the guy by the collar with his free hand.

‘Maybe you need reminding just who you’re talking to.’ Billy growled.

Liam reeled. He jumped to his feet, panic gripping him. He raised his hands in an automatic gesture, despite the weapon not being aimed in his direction. Everyone turned to look at Liam. The whole room stopped as though the scene had been paused on television. Rather than the man with the gun, Liam was now the focus of everyone’s attention. 

‘What’s his problem?’ The guy Billy was aiming at asked.

Billy lowered the pistol and released the man from his grip.

‘Liam, you okay, boy?’ Billy asked confusion on his face.

‘You’ve got a gun.’ Liam said, his voice trembling with shock.

The group erupted in laughter at Liam’s trepidation. Billy waved the gun in Liam’s direction.

‘You’ve led a sheltered life, haven’t ya?’ Billy said, still grinning.

Billy chuckled to himself, muttering Never seen a gun before, as he tucked the pistol back in his coat.

Later that evening, as they sipped glasses of whiskey, perched on stools at the bar, Billy chuckled again at his son’s reaction to the pistol.

‘Honestly, boy, you should have seen your face!’ Billy laughed. 

Liam laughed along.

‘If you’re gonna get involved in the family business, you’ll have to toughen up.’ Billy said.

‘I wasn’t aware I was getting involved in the business.’ Liam said.

‘You’re family. You’re one of us. Business is in your blood.’

Liam said nothing. When Billy spoke of business, Liam was in no doubt what he meant. Liam had a different word for what they were speaking of. Crime. He really didn’t know what to make of it all. Was he being prim and proper, and over-sensitive? Had he been raised too straight-laced? Maybe they were right, maybe he had led a sheltered life.

A few months later, Liam called over as usual. Rather than the usual cup of tea, Billy grabbed two cans of lager from the fridge. He handed Liam a cold beer, and cracked open his own, taking a long swig. 

‘What’s this in aid of?’ Liam asked.

‘You said it was your birthday this week. I thought we’d raise a toast. Happy birthday, son.’ Billy said.

Before Liam could reply, Billy handed him a parcel wrapped in shiny paper. 

‘You really didn’t have to. I didn’t expect anything.’ Liam said.

Billy waved a hand, open it.

Liam peeled back the wrapping paper and opened the box. The gold of the expensive watch glinted in the afternoon sun. Liam gasped at the generosity of the man he’d only known a few months. 

‘Thank you so much. I love it.’ Liam said, slipping the watch onto this wrist.

‘Only best for my boy.’ Billy said.

Liam admired the watch on his wrist and spoke without thinking.

‘Is it fake?’ Liam asked.

‘How dare you! You read too many newspapers. Me and my family aren’t as bad as we’re made out to be! I get you a nice birthday present, and you thank me by asking if it’s snide.’

‘I’m sorry, dad. I didn’t mean it. I spoke out of turn.’ Liam said.

‘Did you just call me dad?’ Billy asked, tears filling his eyes.

Liam simply nodded, as surprised as Billy.

‘That means a lot, son. It really does.’ 

Billy threw an arm around him, pulled him close in a father-son embrace.

‘Anyway, your watch isn’t fake, son. It’s nicked.’ Billy admitted with a grin.

Liam tried to ignore that the present was stolen and focus on the fact that it was the first birthday present the man had bought him. While the man who had raised him, would always be his father, Liam had come to also see Billy in quite the paternal role. 

In the pub one evening the following week, Billy gave Liam a serious look. He put his beer down on the table and pointed a finger at him. 

‘I think you should give up your day-job and join us in the family business.’ Billy said.

‘What business is that exactly?’ Liam asked.

‘We buy and sell. We are entrepreneurs.’ 

‘Really?’ Liam blurted out, surprised by the rather grand title.

‘Of course. We don’t let a little thing like it being illegal stop us. What does the law matter, anyway? The law is only there to keep ordinary people down. You think those in the House of Lords care about you and me? Not at all. When a working-class man tries to make money by cutting corners, they call it stealing. When one of them tries the exact same thing, they call it business. I’m labelled a criminal and a thief, yet if I was born in a nice big house, they’d call me an entrepreneur. The upper-class criminals are called politicians.’  

Liam nodded. He couldn’t help thinking his father had a point.

‘What do you do for a living?’ Billy asked.

‘I work in an office.’

‘Do you enjoy it?’ 

‘Not really, no.’ Liam said.

‘It must pay well then, if you don’t enjoy doing it.’

‘Again, not really.’ Liam admitted, taking a swig of his beer.

‘So, you work a job you hate, for a pittance, and you think we’re strange for bending the rules a little?’ 

Unable to come up with an argument against his father’s logic, Liam headed to the bar for another round of drinks.

At the end of the following week, after a tough few days at work, Liam joined Billy and the others in the pub. Liam took a long gulp of his beer and sighed.

‘You okay, boy? You don’t sound so clever.’ Billy asked.

‘Just a bad week at the office.’

‘You know my thoughts on the matter. You should quit the nine-to-five and join the family. You should give it serious consideration.’ 

‘I will.’ Liam said.

On Monday afternoon, Liam’s manager was lecturing him about a problem that was completely out of his control. He couldn’t be held accountable their drivers being stuck for traffic jams or for vehicle breakdowns. His manager was doing what she always did, ranting, raging, blaming the staff for something that was out of everyone’s control.

‘This,’ she shouted at Liam. ‘is an absolute shambles! What have you got to say for yourself?’ 

Liam shook his head. Feeling anger and frustration wash over him, he got to his feet.

‘I am done.’ Liam said.

‘Excuse me?’ His manager asked, shocked at the way the conversation was going.

‘I’ve had it with this. I can’t win with you. Whatever I do is the wrong thing.’

‘I don’t care for your tone.’

‘My tone?’ Liam said. ‘You’ve been on my case since I started here.’

‘I’m your manager. I deserve some respect.’

‘Respect works both ways. How about you show some respect to the poor souls that work for you.’

As Liam headed for the door, the manager called out.

‘You’ll never work in this industry again.’ She yelled.

Liam turned back to face her, laughing.

‘No, you’re right. I won’t.’ He said.

As he drove home, hours earlier than expected, he mulled things over. Maybe Billy was right. Maybe he was like them, after all. Perhaps the Lynch family had the right outlook. Why should he work all hours at the office to be under-paid and for little or no recognition? Billy may have had a point. He didn’t get paid overtime and was treated so badly, yet the directors and managers all received big bonuses and flash company cars. Maybe it was time he looked out for himself for a change.

And perhaps this was his fate. If he hadn’t been given up for adoption by Billy and Tina, then he’d have grown up knowing no different. He would be part of the Lynch family and that meant getting involved in their illegal schemes. Maybe it was in his blood. These were the people he was descended from. They were his own people. Maybe this was always his destiny. 

Early that evening, Liam found Billy in the pub. Liam pointed to the snooker tables and asked if Billy fancied playing a frame. Billy nodded, his face serious. He sensed that his son wanted to talk, while they potted a few balls. 

As Liam chalked his snooker cue, Billy asked if everything was okay.

‘I had an argument with my boss at the office this afternoon. They were out of order, and I told them I wasn’t standing for it.’ Liam said.

‘Good for you.’

‘And then I walked out.’ Liam said, striking the cue ball. 

‘Does that mean what I think it means?’ Billy asked.

‘It means, I need to find work.’

Billy leaned on his snooker cue and nodded.

‘It just so happens that I have a vacancy coming up.’ He said with a grin.

Over a cup of tea one morning, Billy explained what Liam would be doing. He would be collecting and delivering. Liam would simply be acting like a courier, ferrying packages and envelopes across the city. Liam had seen enough television crime shows and watched enough news reports to know he would be delivering and collecting drugs and cash. He tried not to dwell on the illegality of the acts he would be committing. It was just collecting and delivering, that was all.

‘There is nothing to worry about. If there’s trouble with the drop-off, anyone gives you any aggro, leave it. If you have any doubts, any bad feeling, get out of there. Any trouble, you walk away. I’ll sort it from there. You’ll be fine, though. People know who you are and who you’re connected to. And if the police stop you, I’ll get my lawyers to take care of everything.’ 

‘The police? If they stop me with the package-’ 

‘Relax. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Half Manchester’s police force is on the Lynch payroll anyway.’ Billy said.

Liam said nothing, holding his mug of tea in trembling hands.

‘You’ll be fine. You can do this. It’s what we do.’ Billy insisted.

 Liam headed to the address he had been given. He turned the volume up on the pop radio station and tried to lose himself in the cheery music. He told himself he was simply collecting and delivering, that was all. He pulled up on a street on the far side of the city, parking across the road from the park gates, just as instructed. He wound his window down and waited. He had the package tucked into his coat as he had been shown. 

His heart was pounding. What was he getting himself involved in? What had he been thinking? He should have listened to his father and avoided the Lynch family. How had he gone from being a happy guy, with a nice adoptive family, to drug-running for an infamous crime gang? He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Should he go back to Billy and explain that he couldn’t do it, that he wasn’t that type of person? His thoughts were interrupted by someone approaching. 

A woman on a bicycle raced through the gates and came to an abrupt stop by the car. She wore a faded blue Oasis t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. She was somewhere in her thirties with bleach blonde hair. As she leaned in the car window, the vehicle was filled with the aroma of stale cigarette smoke.

'Have you got it?’ She asked.

‘Yes, I have.’ Liam said.

She handed Liam an envelope and held out her hand, motioning for him to hurry up and hand it over. As soon as Liam handed her the package, she snatched it and was away through the park, pedalling as fast as she could. 

Liam started the engine and headed down the street, laughing in delight. He had done it. He had managed to hold his nerve, just about. He punched the air, delighted and relieved at how the first delivery had gone. 

The next drop off was in a neighbouring town. Liam went to the address and knocked on the door. A second later, a guy in a retro Manchester United football shirt opened the door.

‘Yeah?’ He growled.

‘Your food is here.’ Liam said, repeating the line he’d been told to say.

‘My man!’ The guy said. Again, Liam handed over the package in return for an envelope.

Before Liam could say another word, the door was slammed in his face. While he wasn’t expecting to chat about the weather, he found the abruptness of the transactions rather startling. He had no idea of the details of what he was dabbling in, but a bit of politeness surely wouldn’t hurt.

As he arrived at a delivery address that afternoon, a police car pulled up to the kerb behind him. Liam felt the panic grip him. What if he was arrested? Would he be sent to prison? An image came to mind of the newspaper headlines, this time with his face in the photographs on his way to court, the latest member of the Lynch family to be charges with some nefarious activity. Liam sat still, frozen in position, staring at the police car behind him. 

The officer got out of the car. Liam held his breath, waiting for the inevitable arrest. The police officer crossed the road, heading for the newsagents. Liam sighed. The copper was probably stopping off for cigarettes or a newspaper on his way home. 

Liam drove around the block to give the police officer time to leave the vicinity. He was no master criminal but conducting his deliveries with a police car in the area, wouldn’t have been the smartest move. When he turned back into the road, the police car was gone. Liam sighed in relief. The coast was clear. 

Just after five o’clock that afternoon, Liam returned to the house. Billy was in his usual spot in the kitchen. The room was busy as ever. Billy gave Liam a look that asked how it had gone. Liam simply nodded and placed the stack of collected brown envelopes on the kitchen table. Billy jumped to his feet, clapping his hands. Everyone in the room cheered as though England had just scored in the World Cup final. As his new friends congratulated him on a job well done, adding welcome to the firm, Billy shook him by the hand. 

That evening, as Liam was leaving the house and heading for home, Billy followed him outside. Billy pulled out a wad of cash, wrapped with an elastic band. He peeled off a bundle of fifty-pound notes and stuffed them in Liam’s pocket.

‘Good work today, boy.’ Billy said.

He gave Liam a proud nod and headed back inside. 

One evening Liam stopped off at the kebab shop for some takeaway food. He ordered a large Donner kebab, fries, and some spicy chicken wings on the side. As the guy behind the counter handed him his food in a carrier bag, Liam pulled out his wallet. The guy shook his head.

‘That’s fine. It’s on the house.’ He said.

‘No, it’s okay. Here you go.’ Liam took a ten-pound note from his wallet.

‘No charge. You tell Billy I said hello.’ The guy said.

As he headed for the door, home to enjoy his takeaway food, he had to admit it felt good to be treated as part of Billy’s firm. For the first time in his life, Liam had been treated with respect. People knew who he was, who he was related to. And that meant something. 

There were other changes he noticed too. When he was walking down the street, people would say hello, bid him good morning. Whereas once he would be pushed and shoved, bumped into as though he was nothing, people moved out of his way. He was becoming a known face, a recognised member of Billy’s family. When he took his car to the carwash, rather than be given a quick once-over with a soapy sponge, they would insist on giving his vehicle a full clean and polish, inside and out. Now when he dined in his favourite Indian restaurant, not only did he not have to queue to be seated, these days, he was shown straight away to the best table in the house, without a reservation. And of course, the meal was on the house. The waiters would shake his hand and thank him for his custom. 

When he thought of his old life, the office 9-5, he felt like a mug. That hadn’t been living. This, working for Billy’s outfit, ducking and diving, and reaping the rewards, this was the life. He sensed his adoptive parents had other opinions, but they didn’t voice their concerns. For Mother’s Day Liam had treated Josie to a fancy watch. One of Billy’s contacts had a shipment of these ladies’ watching coming in and given Liam a great price. Josie had smiled politely and thanked him. She hadn’t tried the watch on, and he hadn’t seen her wearing it since. 

A few months later, Liam was playing snooker in the pub with Billy and a few of the lads. Billy had been quiet all evening. Liam sensed there was something on his father’s mind. The older man was deep in his own thoughts.

‘I have a bit of business coming up. I could do with you on the team.’ Billy said, his voice hushed. 

‘What exactly would we be doing?’ Liam asked. 

‘All you would be doing is a bit of driving.’ Billy said.

Liam said nothing, waiting for Billy to continue.

‘You’d be driving me and the boys on a job and then driving us away. That’s all.’ Billy said.

‘A getaway driver?’ Liam felt sick at the thought. It was one thing sneaking around dealing in illegal products, but robbery, presumably armed, was another thing completely. 

‘You would be with me and the lads. You wouldn’t be on your own. And if by some great misfortune, we’re nicked, you tell the police we forced you. I’ll say we threatened you and made you drive us. It won’t come to that. It’s a simple job, and you’ve got the easiest part.’ Billy insisted. 

Liam took a gulp of his beer and slumped into the chair. His mind was racing with it all. For the first time in months, he found himself wondering if he was getting out of his depth with his involvement with Billy and the family. Billy sat down next to him.

‘You’ve been working for me for a while now. You’ve been doing well. Have you ever felt threatened? Ever felt unsafe or in danger?’ Billy asked.

Liam shook his head. He had to admit, he had found his feet and quickly become part of the organisation. 

‘I wouldn’t do anything to land you in trouble. Me and the boys will be taking all the risks. You’ll be driving into the city centre and driving away again.’ Billy said. 

‘And all I’d be doing is driving?’ Liam asked.

‘That’s all. It’ll be like you’re a cab driver; except you’ll have some rather scurrilous passengers.’ Billy said. 

Liam said nothing.

‘You don’t have to do it, son. I’ve never made you do anything you don’t want to do. In fact, forget I said anything. I’ll sort something else out. Another drink?’ Billy asked pointing to the empty beer glass. 

When Billy returned from the bar with a fresh round of drinks, Liam nodded.

‘I’ll do it.’ He said. 

‘Good man. And, of course, you’ll be very well paid for the work.’ Billy said. 

One Tuesday afternoon, Liam drove Billy and two of the lads into the city centre. As they drove in focused silence, all thoughts on the job they were about to pull off, Liam was surprised to find he felt excited rather terrified. He had been dreading this day, wishing the date to be over, so he could just get beyond it, and yet, now it was here, now it was happening, he felt the adrenaline kick in. 

He drove down the street, checking the mirrors, and looking out for anything alarming. Liam felt excitement, like he was playing a computer game or watching a television crime thriller. Billy was in the passenger seat next to him. The sports bag at his feet contained the weapons they would use in the robbery. They would, hopefully, be returning with the sports bag crammed with jewellery. Billy had already warned a few of his contacts that he would be coming into possession of some jewellery that he would need getting rid of.

Liam pulled up further down the block than the jewellers, outside a sandwich shop. Anyone passing by would assume the car was parked at the kerb waiting for the food order to be prepared. 

Billy turned to Liam.

‘Keep the engine running, boy, and keep your eyes peeled. You see coppers, you blast that horn, and we’ll come running.’

Liam nodded, understood.

Billy and the others placed their balaclavas on the top of their heads. The balaclavas would be pulled down to cover their faces as they entered the jeweller’s shop. 

‘Right.’ Billy grinned, ‘Head ‘em up, move ‘em out!’ He called, quoting a 1960s cowboy show. 

Billy and the lads climbed out of the car and moved down the pavement towards the bank. They walked in quick determined steps. Liam watched in the rear-view mirror, as they marched through the glass doors of the jewellers. 

In the stillness that followed, with the engine purring, Liam’s mind wandered. He could have been parked up in the city centre for any number of reasons. He could have been waiting for his partner to finish work behind a bar, could have been popping to the building society to see about a loan. And yet, here he was, waiting for his new family to finish robbing the jewellery shop.

Like a bubble bursting, Billy and the lads charged out of the shop and ran down the pavement. Liam revved the engine, preparing to get away.

The lads threw themselves back in the car, slamming the doors behind them.

‘Drive!’ Billy yelled.

Liam slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped down the street. A few moments later, as they joined the motorway, Billy pulled off his balaclava. He told Liam to drive fast enough to get them away, but not too fast to get pulled over. 

‘We need a quick exit, but not quickly enough to draw attention.’ Billy said.

Liam nodded, trying to emulate a colleague who had once given him a lift to work. To her the speed limit was a rough guide, the correct lane was the one with the fewest cars, and red lights were for other vehicles and didn’t apply to her. 

Billy gave Liam directions to a house on the other side of Salford, over in Cadishead.

‘We’re not going back to the house?’ Liam asked.

‘Liam, I didn’t get where I am today, by heading straight back to my own house after a robbery.’ Billy said.

The others laughed at Liam’s ridiculous suggestion.

Liam followed Billy’s directions down a dirt track. He pulled round the back of the detached house. The house was in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing but wasteland and fields all around. Liam was impressed by Billy’s planning. It was the perfect place to lay low and debrief. 

They grabbed the bags crammed with stolen jewellery and dashed inside. Liam followed them through to the kitchen. The lads peeled off their gloves and tipped the bags of loot onto the kitchen table. The stack of jewellery looked like something from a film. Liam could imagine pirates fighting over a stash just like it. The gold jewellery glinted in the afternoon sunshine. One of the lads picked up a gold ring and studied it closely. 

‘I might give this to my mam.’ He said. ‘She’d love it.’

‘Go for it, but it comes out of your cut.’ Billy said.

Billy pulled out a bottle of Irish whiskey and some plastic cups. He poured them each a large measure. They raised their glasses in a toast and cheered and whooped, delighted at the job they’d pulled off.

Liam found himself joining in with the cheering. He had done it. He felt elated. He had just assisted in his first robbery. He had never graduated from university, but he felt the sensation would be something similar. He had moved up to the big-time. There would be no stopping him now. He was Billy Lynch’s son, his son and heir. Maybe one day he would take the throne himself. He laughed at the possibilities that stretched out in front of him.

As Billy and the others were raising toasts and clinking glasses, Liam’s mobile phone rang. He stepped out into the hallway to take the call.

‘Is that Liam?’ A polite voice asked.

‘Yeah, it’s me. Who’s this?’ 

‘I’m calling from the adoption agency.’

‘What can I do for you?’ Liam asked.

‘I’m afraid the details we sent you earlier this year were incorrect.’

‘Sorry, I don’t follow.’

‘You were sent the incorrect details. There seems to have been a mix-up. It’s down to a computer glitch, I’m afraid.’

‘So, I’m not related to the Lynch family?’ Liam asked, incredulous. This couldn’t be happening.

‘No, unfortunately not. It’s been an awful mix-up, I’m afraid. The details of your actual biological parents will be sent out in tonight’s post. I can only apologise for the mix-up.’ 

Liam said nothing, unable to find the words. He hung up the phone and went back through to the kitchen. 

He stared at the man he had believed to be his biological father, who was actually a total stranger. He felt as though he was waking from a dream, as though his recent criminal escapades had been imagined, or that they’d happened to someone else. Like a drunk person being sobered by a shock, Liam now found his mindset snapping back to the way it was before getting involved with Billy and his family. His initial reservations about the Lynch family came back with full force. He didn’t know what he had been thinking. The one thing he did know was that he wouldn’t be getting involved in anything else with the crime figure. What had he been playing at? He was no criminal. Before meeting Billy, he hadn’t had so much as a library fine. 

Liam’s gaze went to the stolen loot stacked on the kitchen table in front of him. The weight of the crimes he had committed seemed to weigh on him, pressing on his chest. Billy slapped a hand on his shoulder.

‘You okay, son? You’re as white as a sheet.’ 

Liam shook his head. He had to tell Billy. He would explain about the mix-up to Billy, and they would go their separate ways. Liam would close this chapter of his life and go back to the office job. He and Billy may even be able to part as friends. 

‘You’re not going to believe this. That was the Adoption Agency. Apparently, there was a mix-up. You and I are not related. They are going to write to me with the correct details of my birth parents.’ Liam said.

Billy and the others exchanged glances, their faces suddenly serious. Liam was surprised by the gloomy reaction. Of course, it was bad news. It was upsetting, but he hoped, they’d all get over it. Hopefully, in time, they could put it down to experience. They could always keep in touch, maybe meet up for a pint or a Full English breakfast now and then. Judging by their faces, they were more disturbed by the news than he was. 

Billy paced up and down the small kitchen, shaking his head, his cheeks burning red with outrage. 

‘You’re right, Liam. I’m not going to believe it. I don’t believe a word!’ Billy ranted. ‘Let me get this straight. You turn up and claim to be my long-lost son. I welcome you in. You become part of the family business and join us in committing all kinds of illegal acts. You get the full low-down on my operation. And now, after all that, on the very day we pull off a robbery, you turn to me and say, whoops, my bad, I’m not your son, after all. Are you for real?’

Liam flinched at the harsh tone, and the menace in his glare. 

‘I know it sounds bad, but all I can tell you is that is what the agency have said. They’ve literally just called me.’ Liam said.

Liam flinched as Billy reached for his pistol. Billy waved his hands angrily as he spoke, the weapon slicing through the air. 

‘Let me tell you how it sounds. It sounds like a set-up. It’s obvious that you’re working for the police. And today, you’ve got all the evidence you need. That’s it, isn’t it?’

‘No, it’s not like that. I swear.’ Liam said. 

‘You know what happens to rats, don’t you?’ Billy yelled.

With angry tears in his eyes, Billy aimed the gun at Liam, his finger hovering over the trigger. As Liam went to speak, his pleading hands raised, Billy opened fire.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom