by Ayre, Mark
“This alley craves blood,” he said, his voice low, gruff. It sounded put on, but still, James recognised it. “It got a little on Friday night, but it wants more. It wants life. We’re going to give it yours.”
One of the hoods behind him chuckled. Even in James’ fear, he wanted to ask if these were the four who had attacked Mohsin. It was possible. He knew why they were here. He had targeted George, and now he was being targeted right back. Had Mohsin received the same treatment when he told George he knew about Becky? Had Luke only been spared the physical assault because he was a Barnes? James could hardly believe George’s parental compassion stretched that far, but it was not impossible.
“Please -” he started, but got no further.
All four hoods moved at once. Forgetting the two behind him, James raised his hands above his head, hoping to block the brick as it came swinging.
Crash. He cried out as the brick crushed his hands, throwing them out the way. Again he tried to speak but again the brick came and, this time, he was on the floor.
The kicking began. Three of them stomping him again and again. It was all bad, then something sharp hit his shoulder, and he felt true agony cascade through him.
Twisting his head, he saw the source of that pain. A heeled shoe, lifting high and coming down again and again. Already his vision was blurring, but he saw the narrow ankle the heeled foot was attached to and couldn’t believe how much power it held. He spotted a rose tattoo, on the ankle, and thought it was ironic to have a symbol so beautiful on a leg used for such evil.
He began to feel dizzy and would be unconscious before long. He tried to raise his hands but the brick came again, cracking down on them like a newly elected politician might crack down on crime. James fell still, tried to wait it out.
Eventually, the kicking stopped. The three who had administered it stepped back. He could hear them, but the sound was fuzzy, distant. His ears picked up far off rushing water and his watering eyes just made out the shape of the man lowering towards him, blurred brick in his hands.
One of those hands came away and grabbed James’ head, pulling him up so he was facing the guy. That face swam and blurred, but he realised it was Luke, then it changed, and he realised it wasn’t.
“You done messing.”
“Yes,” James said through blood and pain. “Yes.”
“Not a question,” the guy said. “You done messing.”
He rose the brick above his head, holding it high and waiting until James looked at him. He saw the end of his life coming and let his head drop. He embraced the pain. Allowed it to cover him and, when he felt the hints of unconsciousness, jumped for it with open arms. The brick began to come but, before it could -
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
He seemed to float in darkness, interspersed with flashing circles of white light, projecting images and short films. Weird shit. Luke running down the road hand in hand with someone he first thought to be George but realised was Toby. Mark making love to James’ mother on a bouncy castle, while his father watched from the side, shoes on, crying his eyes out. Megan, approaching, eyes like headlamps to a frozen bunny. Her hand touching his face.
“James… James?”
If this was death, he’d not cope long. The images came faster and faster. George and Christina screaming at each other in the car. Mohsin, holding up a little white pill, telling James to watch closely, and making it fade away. Chasing Charlie through the woods, begging him to come back. Amy, sitting on the sofa, mouth open, allowing Mark to feed her smarties. Megan again. Always Megan. The hand on his face and this time a little shake accompanying it. More visions, then more Megan, appearing more and more frequently. Her appearance filling more and more of the black until -
“James, wake up. I need to call an ambulance.”
Awareness blossomed. He realised what was happening and raised his hand, grabbing her wrist as she tried to leave. The black at the edges of his vision receded, taking the apparitions with it, peeling away like a collapsing film screen. After, there was only Megan, hovering over him, tears and fear on her face. She blurred and split, but he closed his eyes and tried again. Forcing himself to see. His hand remained on her wrist, though his grip was weak. He wasn’t dead, he noticed. There wasn’t much pain either, though he doubted that would last.
“No ambulance.” His throat was sore, and the words were a nightmare. He wanted to tell her if this was death, seeing her made it all worth it, but the sentence was beyond him, and he didn’t know how she would react. He stuck with the ambulance line, waiting for her response. Desperate to hear her angel’s voice again, knowing it would make him stronger. Make him want to get up. To live.
“Can you move?”
In response, he tried to stand. Shifting his arms behind him and pushing. It was agony, and he was unable to keep the groans inside, but he kept going. Megan gripped his arm as he came, lifting him with gentle hands.
Once standing, he swayed, felt himself go. Megan grabbed one of his arms, and the other found the wall, pressing the brickwork as though sure it hid a secret passage.
“Come on,” Megan said. “Let’s get you inside.”
An eternity passed before Megan got James through her front door. He thought they might stop there, where he could collapse to the sofa and play sleep vs pain. But, as he tried to move into the living room she tugged his hand, sending a shot of pain so bad down his arm he was sure she must have torn it from the socket.
“Come on. Upstairs.”
This seemed like cruel punishment, but he was unable to argue. She pulled him again, and he had to bite his lip to stop a scream escaping. Then they were on the move, Megan standing at his back, hoping to catch him if he fell. A brave measure doomed to end with them both crashing to the bottom of the stairs. Thinking this would further harm their damaged relationship. He decided to put all his effort into not falling.
It was a long way to the top, like an Everest climb, but more painful. By the end his breathing was heavy, his body trembling, but the aches were already fading. After all, it was only a kicking.
On the upstairs landing, he paused, until Megan’s gentle touch led him to the room he had paced while the Barnes’ sat downstairs discussing Luke and Charlie.
“Lie down.” As if he would do anything else.
Moving from her arm, he found the bed and, using what caution he had, twisted and lay, releasing a long groan as he did. Half his body on, he lifted his legs, only for Megan to shoot forward and grab them.
“Shoes.”
When he only groaned again, she sat and took them off, before lifting his legs onto the bed, so he was lying flat. This done she stood, examining him as a painter examines a near-complete print. Eyes filled with sadness, she could only bare the sight a few moments, then she was gone.
With nothing to do and no desire to move, James lay still, listening to her feet descending. Straining to follow their progress he aggravated his back, so gave up. It was a couple of minutes before he heard them again. The door opened, and Megan appeared holding a glass of water and a couple of pills.
“These won’t help much, but seeing as you’re in too much pain to rest your forehead on Mark’s cabinet again, they’ll have to do.”
She held out the pills, and he gave a little chuckle which tried to snap his ribs on the way out. He remembered the incident with the cabinet and thought how funny it was that had happened just two days ago.
Thanking her, he scrabbled to a half seated position, took the pills, and downed the water. Falling back he closed his eyes and tried to assess the damage. His back had been bad anyway, and the animals had focused the kicking there. If nothing was broken, it would at least be bruised. On top of that, his hand was killing where the brick had crushed it, and his shoulder was subject to a deep throb where the heel had caught him just right, but the situation could have been much worse had the guy had a second more before Megan arrived.
“You saved my life.”
No response. M
egan had taken the office chair and sat over him, one leg crossing the other. Her eyes still held that sadness, but they had room for more. Confusion, and a little annoyance.
“You lied to me.”
“I didn’t,” he tried, not believing it himself. “I just didn’t mention I knew -“
“Don’t. A lie of omission is still a lie, don’t they say?”
“Who’s they?”
She didn’t reply. Just sat there, one foot tapping, eyes never leaving him. Those hurt eyes. He couldn’t look at them but couldn’t look away.
“I’m sorry. I never expected this to happen. It was a drop in visit to see Luke’s family. Then you hurt your ankle, and there was Mohsin and Charlie, but I could never have known. Never. And I never expected to meet you. God, meeting you could be the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She tutted and shook her head, but her look suggested they were thinking the same. It felt so right when they were together, and sucked they couldn’t be.
“One chance -” she held a finger aloft to indicate. “You tell me everything - the truth about Luke and why you’re here - or you get out. One chance.”
It was a chance he almost blew. His throat closed and he couldn’t speak, but he liked her. Could have loved her, and if speaking gave him a shot at forgiveness, he would take it. He remembered the story he had almost told her before and knew he had to now. That was where it began. The rest wouldn’t make sense without it. He forced himself higher on the bed and started.
“When I was 20 and home from university one summer, I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see. My mother having sex with my uncle - that is dad’s brother, not her’s.
“I confronted her. Told her it had to stop, and she promised me it would, but begged me not to tell my father. I was uncomfortable with that. Knew he had a right to know but she could be very persuasive my mother, so I agreed.
“It was less than a week later I caught them again. This time I confronted my uncle, rather than her. Asked him to stop but he showed no remorse. Not one jot. He told me he wasn’t going to stop and warned me not to tell my dad. When I argued he hit me, knocked me down. Next, he was laughing at me, but he didn’t know my dad was in the house, listening at the stairs. He’s still laughing when the door opens, and there stands dad. I’d never seen him so angry.”
He stopped, struggling to go on. He could see it all, and it still made him want to cry. There was the blood, drenching dad’s clothes and hands. There were his haunted eyes, turning towards James who lay balled in a corner, crying, hating himself.
You need to call the police, James. Tell them what I did.
James could have tried to say it all, but it would have been a struggle, so he skipped to the end.
“Dad was arrested for murder and sentenced to life. After that, mum came to me screaming. She hit me and scratched me. Drew blood. Told me it was all my fault and the worst thing was she didn’t care what happened to my dad. She was grieving over my uncle.
“That makes me sick now, but at the time, I accepted her blame. It was all my fault.”
Tailing off again, noticing that talking was dimming the pain, relegating it to background noise. He rubbed his arms although he wasn’t cold and looked to Megan. Her eyes were fixed on him. Her mouth open a little, fascinated by his awful tale.
“It probably doesn’t sound relevant -“
“It does. It shows your mum kicked you out like Luke’s kicked him out. Made for great bonding material, I’d imagine.”
“It did. Though I didn’t meet him right away. I finished uni and started wandering. Worked three or four jobs before finding one I could settle in, slap bang in the middle of another faceless city - the one I’d run from, sans my mother. It was a purgatory existence. Days spent head down at work, evenings and nights locked up in my tiny flat.
“Funny thing is I wasn’t looking for company, but when company arrived, it came all at once. One week I met the girl I would begin dating, the next I met him. Luke.”
“And the photo was complete.”
He thought of the picture, remembering the day it had been taken. How happy he had been in that lead up to Christmas. Less than a week later it had all fallen apart. Fast and brutal, as it always was.
“As I said, I met her, and we began dating, then met Luke. The three of us got on, but Luke and I became particularly close. Borne of our hatred for our families. We spent a lot of nights drinking and talking, but you know what’s weird?”
Megan shook her head.
“He never once told me he had a son.”
Because he didn’t, said a voice in his head. But James didn’t mention that.
“We became a trio. Did everything and went everywhere together and all the time the warning signs were there, but I chose not to listen. When it comes to feeling included, I guess we always choose not to listen.”
He thought about George. Had the signs been there for him? Of course they had, and of course, he hadn’t wanted to see them. Maybe if he had then -
Pointless. Don’t think it. He closed his eyes. Searched for the strength to go on. When he opened them Megan still hadn’t moved.
“Luke had his temper, and so did I. We were connecting over all the worst things, and worse, my relationship wasn’t working. We weren’t right for each other. I could see that but didn’t want to let go. I’d found my trio and felt safe within it. I was afraid to be on my own again.
“Luke got on with my girlfriend just like a house on fire, but I never noticed. I thought I was the glue holding the group together and how stupid did that turn out to be?”
Maybe he didn’t need to tell the next bit. She could look into his eyes and see what it was, but it mattered. It was part of the whole, so he spilt.
“I’d been away with work. Was supposed to be gone a week but they let us come home a day early. I was so excited. Came in with this big smile on my face and -“
He saw it all. The low light of the flat. The flickering of the scented candles. Laughter and soft music coming from the bedroom. His heart pounded recalling it, as it pounded then, and it was like walking through the door again. Catching them together.
“They acted the reverse of what I would have expected. The girl I’d convinced myself I loved just sat there. Didn’t even seem sorry. It was Luke that rushed over. Everyone talks of how evil he is but he seemed honest then. Genuine, even with his trousers around his ankles. He was begging for forgiveness, and I shoved him and ran. I had no interest in talking to him then. Never thought I would again.”
He paused, and as though sensing the break in the story, his back and shoulder jolted with pain, and he flinched with a grimace. Megan rose, reaching out as though she could catch the pain, pull it away. But she couldn’t, and she sat without action. James tried to smile, waiting for the pain to settle.
“Later, Luke called me. Asked to meet, and we did. Down by the riverbank.”
He arrives, and the water is rushing, forcing its way relentlessly between stone walls. Black and angry and unforgiving.
“We argued. I wanted to apologise, but I was lost to rage. Screaming and shouting.”
You betrayed me. You fucking piece of -
“Then he lost his temper too, and that wasn’t in the plan.”
Fuck you. It was a huge mistake, and I’m trying to apologise. Why don’t you just -“
“It became a scuffle, then a fight. At one point I thought we would both fall into the river. Then we go the other way. There’s some loose concrete on the ground.”
And of course, his dreams skip all the bits in the middle. Goes straight from Luke coming down the steps to -
“He took it. Brought it around and -“
Crack.
He flinched. Megan’s hands went to her face. He couldn’t go on. He heard the rushing icy water and felt as though he was tipping from the bed and the water below would drag him away.
“I thought I was going to die. I wanted to.”
“
Oh my god.”
There were tears on her cheeks, and she hovered uncomfortably between sitting and standing. She didn’t seem to notice until he met her eyes. She dropped into her chair then stood right up. Came to the edge of the bed and took one of his hands in hers. His back spasmed a little with pain, but he tried not to show it. It was almost done now.
“I came here because I wanted to see the family he hated so much. Wanted to see if they had turned him into what he was. Now I find a bit of both.”
“What do you mean?”
He told her about George, laid it all out and saw the horror cross her face. But he didn’t hold back. She wanted to know, and he wanted to tell her.
“Luke was a drug dealer. He wasn’t a rapist.”
She had been on her knees and slid to her bum, legs to one side. Her fingers slipped, but she rearranged her arm so they could still hold hands. She tried to process this latest information.
“I heard about the dealing, but I could never believe it. Back in school, Luke hated drugs. Would never take them. He had a go at me for trying weed, but he was selling on the side? Guess that’s a case of do as I say, not as I do.”
“Maybe. But you still think he’d stop after Katy died. Same way Mark stopped taking them.”
“If only he’d stop hanging out with users.”
It was another victim sentence of them being so comfortable around each other. More words she didn’t want to release but did because it was James.
He rolled a little on his side, ignoring the pain. Thought initially of Amy, then new names popped into his head.
“Shawn and Georgia.”
“Yeah, how’d you know about them?”
“Sharon.” He was thinking of the photo of the smiling twins. “They’re Shaw and Georgie? The ones you said Mark was seeing when he was supposed to be with his family.”
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why he likes them.”
