The Take by Martina Cole Page A

fighting fish and Freddie Jackson had reeled him in.
    He picked up a pint pot by the handle and gathering all his strength he attempted to smash it into Freddie's face. Pint pots could do serious damage, they were heavy glass and they were a good weapon.
    'You fat cunt.'
    Freddie sounded as if he was waiting for it, which Siddy conceded he most probably was. Siddy knew when he was beaten.
    Freddie had stepped back and grabbed his wrist, which held the pint pot, then, smashing Siddy's arm down on the bar, he waited until he had dropped the pot before he began systematically beating him with closed fists, and eventually finishing the beating with his feet. The pint pot was smashed over Siddy's head for good measure.
    As Siddy lay on the dirty carpet he could smell beer, sick and his own blood. He should have gone home, but it was too late now. He knew he had walked into this fight without any kind of redress. Freddie had repeatedly asked him to leave and in the cold light of pain he knew he was finished.
    Freddie, for his part, was euphoric. He had done what he had set out to do, he had witnesses to Siddy's utter disregard for Ozzy and his predicament, and he had the goodwill of all Ozzy's workforce, many of whom were sick and tired of Siddy and his crew.
    Freddie was out of breath now he had finished his business with Siddy, and he looked at Paul and Liselle in mock distress as he was handed a double brandy. Knocking it back in one gulp, he was surprised that he suddenly felt as sober as a judge. Extreme violence could do that to you, he had found out over the years. It was as if the adrenaline cancelled out the alcohol somehow and left you feeling more alive and alert than you had ever felt before.
    He kicked Siddy in the head a few more times, holding on to the bar so he could use all his considerable strength for the attack.
    Siddy was groaning, and throwing up beer and vodka all over himself and the floor.
    'Throw that cunt out, will ya? Fucking wanker, he is.' This from a small man in the corner who was playing cards with his brother-in-law. It was a measure of Freddie's newfound credibility that the man felt confident enough to call a Clancy a cunt in public, though they had all said that and worse in private over the years.
    Paul looked into Freddie's eyes and grinned, and his grin told Freddie he had just found himself a friend for life.
    Now all he had to do was find a few more, and he would be home and dry.

    Jackie was frightened. Her secret was out and her father had been more than vocal about what he thought of her and her antics , as he kept referring to her drug taking. Her mother, for once, had not attempted to keep the peace and Maggie walking out had not helped the situation. That her Maggie had walked away from her had hurt. No matter what she did, Maggie had always stood beside her. Maggie idolised her and she needed that adulation, everyone else mugged her off over the way Freddie treated her, if not to her face then behind her back. Maggie was the only one who really cared about her whatever.
    She loved Maggie, really loved her, but sometimes her feelings veered towards hatred as she saw her little sister enjoying her life so much. Maggie really didn't know just how lucky she was. Jimmy thought the sun shone out of her, everyone adored her. She had no idea what life was really like.
    Not like Jackie did.
    Her own life was so difficult that she had trouble getting out of bed some days. Everything had been on hold for so long, and she had put so much store on her husband finally coming home, that she had forgotten that the reality of Freddie was so much different to her dreams.
    In her dreams he was perfect. She had seen him coming back home, grateful to her for waiting so long. She had seen him loving her like never before, seen his grateful look as he saw his children all clean and cared for, saw him telling her he loved her more than anyone else in the world. This fantasy had kept her going for all those