Breakers

by Doug Johnstone

  Kelly shifted her weight. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like the Holts found him.’

  ‘Nothing like that.’

  ‘But you said you don’t know where he is.’

  ‘He’s with Cherise.’

  This was Barry’s ex, who took out a restraining order on him years before but forgot about it when she was drunk and it suited her. And Barry would run back. Cherise didn’t seem to mind that Barry was shacked up with his own sister the rest of the time. And Kelly was too weak to complain about it either. What a fucking mess.

  ‘Kelly, what are you doing?’

  Her face hardened at his tone. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  She stuck her chin out. ‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’

  Tyler could still hear that dog in the kitchen, and he wondered where the other one was. Maybe they would kill each other, and they’d all get some peace.

  ‘I came to tell Barry about the money. We’re fucked now, you realise that?’

  ‘No one will grass.’

  ‘Of course they will, it’s ten grand.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Just tell Barry and see what he says. Hope he doesn’t shoot the messenger.’

  He turned to go into his own flat, leaving her standing in the doorway.

  ‘Tyler, wait.’

  Something in her voice made him stop and turn.

  She looked scared. That was pretty common around Barry but Tyler couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her like this. She placed a trembling hand against her forehead, through her hair, back to her face.

  ‘What is it?’ Tyler said, stepping back towards her.

  ‘Nothing, I just…’

  Tyler stood watching her.

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ Kelly said, her head lowered, eyes darting. ‘I keep picturing that woman in the house.’

  Tyler sighed. ‘I know.’

  Kelly scratched at the doorframe. ‘Why did Barry have to stab her?’

  ‘Why does Barry do anything? Because he’s Barry.’

  Kelly shifted her weight. ‘He’s not all bad.’

  Tyler couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Kelly, stop kidding yourself.’

  ‘There’s another side to him, Tyler, you wouldn’t understand.’

  That got Tyler mad. ‘Are you insane? He’s treated us both like shit our entire lives. He’s a bully and a psycho and now he’s going to get us killed.’

  ‘There’s stuff you don’t know,’ Kelly said.

  ‘Like what?’

  Kelly took a deep breath, raised her head. ‘He protected me.’

  ‘From what?’

  Kelly swallowed. ‘Back when we used to stay with Dad. Years ago. Dad would come in from the pub hammered, come to my room. Wake me up, you know.’ She picked at an invisible splinter in the doorframe. ‘He would do things. And hit me too. But one time he did it, Barry came in with a kitchen knife and held it to his bollocks, said if he ever touched me again he’d lose them. It was the first time I ever saw Dad scared.’

  ‘Christ,’ Tyler said. ‘Why did you never tell me this before?’

  Kelly shrugged. ‘I’m telling you because I want you to understand that Barry has always looked after me. And he’ll look after us now, I’m sure of it.’

  So Kelly had gone from being abused by her dad to sleeping with her brother. Tyler remembered once when Bean was a baby, he’d come home from school and found Kelly lying on the floor in the living room playing with her. She’d made a nest out of dirty cushions for Bean to lie in, and a wobbly mobile out of the taped-together bits of a ripped-up cardboard box, which Bean was swiping and giggling at. Kelly had looked embarrassed to be caught caring, but she didn’t stop. Half an hour later Barry came in stoned off his tits and ripped the mobile apart.

  Why couldn’t she see he was fucking toxic? It was so obvious to Tyler, to everyone surely. But she couldn’t see his manipulation for what it was, she thought she was standing by the man who looked after her.

  ‘He can’t protect us anymore,’ Tyler said. ‘Not from this.’

  ‘Of course he can, he’s Barry.’

  ‘He’s losing the plot. You saw him last night. That burglary job was nuts, he was looking for a fight, he wanted to get caught.’

  Kelly shook her head. ‘We just need to keep our heads down. Keep out of trouble.’

  ‘And you think Barry’s capable of that?’

  Kelly nodded but it wasn’t convincing.

  Tyler narrowed his eyes. ‘Maybe there’s another way.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Tyler tried to think it through before he spoke. ‘That woman in the hospital, she could die. Then it’s murder. We didn’t stab her, neither of us. The police are sniffing around, and there’s a reward now. Maybe we just tell the truth.’

  Kelly’s eyes widened. ‘We can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘We just can’t.’

  ‘We don’t owe him anything, Kelly. He would sell us out without even thinking if it was the other way round.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘He would.’

  The look on Kelly’s face hardened. ‘If you grass on him, Tyler, he’ll kill you.’

  That was true and Tyler knew it. And still Kelly couldn’t see what kind of brother that made him, like the two parts of her brain were disconnected from each other.

  Tyler shook his head and stepped away.

  ‘Tyler,’ Kelly said as he reached his own door. ‘We have to stick together.’

  He didn’t turn back, just got his key out and opened the door to his flat.

  The smell hit him, something more than the usual stale booze and fags. It was shit and piss, and a sweet undercurrent of something rotten. He walked into the living room and the smell got stronger so that he had to hold the crook of his arm over his nose. Then he saw Angela on the floor. She was naked and he could see track marks on her arms and legs, open sores that pockmarked her body like craters. She had the ligature still tight around her upper arm and the lower part of the arm was dark blue, like the edge of a summer night. Her face was a paler blue, scabbed lips white. He noticed a runny shit staining her buttocks and leaking onto the carpet.

  He ran over and loosened the belt from her arm, the marks from the buckle springing up white underneath, her skin slow to return to normal. He held a hand over her mouth and knelt there for a few seconds. He couldn’t feel any breath. He did the same under her nose, nothing. He dug two fingers into the sinew at her neck and tried to imagine a pulse. He closed his eyes to concentrate better. He thought he felt something but wasn’t sure. He tried to calm his breath, his own heart racing against his chest, the adrenaline rising up in him.

  ‘Come on,’ he said to himself.

  He pushed his fingers in harder against the neck muscle so that he could feel her voicebox. He imagined ripping it out, then felt a low murmur, a throb against his fingertips. A pulse, definitely a pulse. But then nothing for a second or two, then maybe another beat.

  ‘Fuck’s sake.’

  He took his fingers from her throat, grabbed her shoulders, lifted her and shook. Her neck was loose, her head lolling like it might come off.

  ‘Wake up,’ he said, and slapped her across the face. Her head offered no resistance, just flipped across, lank hair falling into her eyes.

  He looked around the room for an answer – just unwashed dishes in the sink, fag ash and heroin gear on the carpet. The stench was making his eyes water.

  He dropped her on the floor, her head landing with a thunk.

  He pulled out his phone and called 999, got put through to the ambulance service, but when he explained it was a suspected overdose and gave the address there was a pause, estimated arrival time was forty-five minutes. She would be dead in forty-five minutes and they both knew that.

  He hung up and ran to the other flat, thumped his fist on the door.

  ‘Kelly.’

  He heard the d
ogs then Kelly opened the door.

  ‘It’s Mum, she’s OD’d again,’ he said.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Come on.’

  ‘Have you called an ambulance?’

  ‘They said three quarters of an hour. She’ll die before they get here. Is Barry’s car downstairs?’

  Kelly shook her head. ‘He took it to hers.’

  Tyler took Kelly’s arm and dragged her to his flat, into the living room. She put a hand over her nose. ‘The fuck?’

  She took in the scene for a few moments. ‘Call a taxi.’

  ‘You know they won’t pick up from here.’

  ‘Any bright ideas?’

  Tyler looked at his watch, half twelve, lunchtime. He thought about Barry holding him in the water last night, what he’d told him. But he didn’t have any other option.

  He dialled and she answered. ‘Hey, what’s up?’

  ‘I need a favour.’

  27

  Tyler and Kelly were standing in the street with Angela propped between them when Flick’s Beetle tore into the car park. Tyler had pulled joggers and a sweatshirt on to Angela’s body so at least she was covered.

  Flick’s face was shocked as she stepped out of the car. ‘Christ.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Tyler said.

  Flick waved that away and pushed the driver’s seat forward.

  Tyler offered Angela’s arm to Flick. ‘Take her.’

  Flick supported her as Tyler went round the other side, flipped the passenger seat forward too and clambered into the back, reaching out. The women lifted Angela to the car and tried to manoeuvre her into the space, her shoulder clunking on the seatbelt support as Tyler took her weight and fell into the footwell of the back seat. He heaved Angela’s body onto the seat and scrambled up, lifting her head, sitting down and putting her head back down in his lap.

  The two seats thudded back into place as Kelly and Flick jumped in.

  Flick looked in the rear-view mirror at Tyler. ‘OK back there?’

  Tyler made a face and puffed out his cheeks. ‘Let’s go.’

  They bombed out of the car park and fired over the roundabouts, then turned left along Little France Drive. The road became buses only but Flick went along it anyway, the alternative route along The Wisp added ten minutes to the journey. Two cameras flashed at them.

  A&E was at this side of the hospital site, so they were outside the sliding doors in no time, Flick helping the other two lift Angela out of the backseat and into a wheelchair Tyler found inside the doors. Flick went to park somewhere as Tyler wheeled his mum to the front desk, Kelly behind shaking her head. When he explained what had happened to the woman behind the desk they were led through to a curtained area, where heavy-set orderlies lifted Angela onto a bed and a young woman doctor with purple hair and tattoos on her hands calmly injected something into her neck, arranging for an IV drip at the same time.

  Tyler watched it all and thought about Bean, how he would explain this. He’d been in this emergency room before with Angela, first when Bean was born, then three more times with overdoses, but Bean had been too young to remember any of those. She was old enough and smart enough now to ask questions, and to deserve answers. They got drug and alcohol education early at school around here, so she already knew the basics, but while she knew Angela drank too much, Tyler had managed to keep the smack from her.

  Then he thought about Angela, how she might not even pull through, and he felt ashamed. Guilty that he hadn’t helped more, that he hadn’t been more supportive. That he hadn’t found her sooner. But fuck it, he didn’t stick the needle in, she did that to herself. When she had a young daughter to look after.

  The doctor handed them a leaflet that Tyler already had in a drawer at home, then moved on to the next emergency. What a way to make a living, in a constant sea of other people’s stress and pain. There was some chat between the doctor and nurse about finding a bed in a ward upstairs, but it was clear from their tone that a self-inflicted junkie overdose was not a priority. Tyler didn’t blame them for that.

  Flick appeared and hovered outside the open curtain of the treatment area. Tyler saw Kelly looking at her and got up to put himself between them. He watched Kelly look her up and down.

  Kelly pointed at the red blazer Flick was wearing. ‘What school is that?’

  ‘Inveresk.’

  Kelly thought that over for a few moments. ‘How do you know my brother?’

  Flick looked at Tyler then back at Kelly.

  She smiled. ‘We just bumped into each other one day.’

  Tyler thought about her standing in Will’s living room, blood dripping from her hand. What did they even have in common?

  Kelly shook her head. ‘I never heard him mention you.’

  Flick reached out and touched Tyler’s arm.

  Kelly’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you his girlfriend?’

  Tyler’s heart was in his throat.

  Flick smiled confidently. ‘Yes.’

  Kelly turned her attention to Tyler. ‘Does Barry know about this?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Kelly frowned.

  Flick went to Angela’s bedside. Tyler followed her. Angela was so emaciated and worn, almost a ghost already, scabby marks on her arms, sores on her face, greasy hair.

  ‘How is she?’ Flick said, not seeming to notice the state of her.

  ‘She’ll live,’ Kelly said. ‘It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.’

  Flick turned to Tyler. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What do you have to be sorry for?’ Kelly said. ‘You and your posh car saved her life. Might’ve been better if you hadn’t bothered.’

  Tyler stared at Kelly over Angela’s body. ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘What did she ever do for any of us except fuck us up?’

  ‘Speak for yourself.’

  Kelly’s face went hard. ‘Well she was fuck all use to me as a mum, that’s all I know.’

  Tyler thought about what Kelly had said earlier. ‘You can’t blame other people for your life.’

  ‘Of course I can,’ Kelly shouted.

  A passing orderly glanced into the cubicle.

  ‘You make your own decisions. If you don’t like how things are, change them.’

  Kelly laughed. ‘Life lessons from a seventeen-year-old. Great. You can’t talk. We’re both in the same shit.’

  Tyler glanced at Flick. He shook his head, his fingers gripping the edge of Angela’s bed. ‘Shut up.’

  Kelly seemed suddenly deflated.

  ‘I have to get back to the flat,’ she said. ‘The dogs will be tearing up the place, and Barry might be back.’

  Tyler shook his head. ‘You don’t have to go back there.’

  Kelly stared at him for a long time. ‘Yes, I do.’

  She turned and left, silence in her wake.

  Eventually Tyler turned back to his mum. She was like a skeleton, something from thousands of years ago that had just been dug up. He found it hard to look at her. He tried to remember something happy, an early memory that might trigger something in him. The brief moments of coherence amongst the booze and drugs and chaos, the first few times she’d tried to go straight, only to fall back into the old patterns at the smallest setback. He didn’t want his upbringing to harden him against her, against the world, but fighting that was a constant struggle.

  He turned to Flick. ‘My family is so fucked up.’

  ‘All families are fucked up.’

  ‘Not like mine.’

  ‘They’re all fucked up in their own special ways.’

  Tyler rubbed at his forehead.

  Flick made a goofy face. ‘But yours does seem particularly fucked up, I have to admit.’

  Tyler laughed.

  Flick grinned. ‘I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.’

  Silence for a moment then she spoke again. ‘What did your sister mean about the shit you’re in?’

  Tyler watched the drip flowing into
the needle in Angela’s hand. ‘Nothing.’

  The nurse from earlier swished in through the curtains. She was only a few years older than Flick and Tyler, tiny with short fair hair and eyes like saucers.

  ‘We’ve found a ward bed for your mum,’ she said to Tyler, taking in Flick at a glance. She fiddled with the locks on the bed wheels, clicked them off one side then the other. ‘Do you want to come up with her?’

  Flick looked at her watch. ‘I need to get back to class.’

  ‘Thanks for everything,’ Tyler said.

  He reached a hand out towards her, then was surprised to find himself in a full hug, the smell of her hair in his nose, the feel of her arms around him, the beat of their hearts almost touching through their chests.

  28

  He sat by her bed for an hour in silence. It wasn’t visiting hours but the nurse let him stay anyway. There were four beds in this room on the ward, Angela in one, an old woman sleeping in another. The other two had younger women in them, addicts too by the look of them. One was watching episodes of Breaking Bad on an iPad, headphones on. The irony of watching a drama about a drug dealer. The other was on her phone, scrolling and flicking, her head bent over so that her nose almost touched the screen.

  The machines in the room produced a background thrum, the sense of a building working to keep people alive. He liked the white noise, it helped to wash away the bad thoughts. But they kept seeping back in.

  He had nowhere else to be. He couldn’t go back to school, no way he could handle that. He didn’t want to go home, couldn’t face the flat. And besides, Barry might be there. Flick was at Inveresk. He thought about Bean. It would be afternoon break now, she’d be cartwheeling with the rest of the girls, or they would be bossily telling each other what to do, sorting out rules for a chasing game, wasting half their time arguing about what was and wasn’t fair. The sense of fair play in kids that age overwhelmed everything else. He remembered being told off for talking in class in primary school once, even when it had been Connell, and the injustice of it burned his cheeks for hours afterwards. What kids that age needed to learn was that life wasn’t fair, so you’d better just suck it up.

  He felt his stomach grumble. He stared at Angela, who hadn’t stirred the whole time he’d been here, then left the room to look for a vending machine. He went out of the ward and round a corner, and he noticed that the number of coloured lines on the floor increased, like boats joining a stream. Then he remembered Monica Holt, still upstairs somewhere. It was a brown line for Intensive Care, and he found himself following it as if he had no control over his feet. Before he knew it he was at the ward door, then inside, no nurse at the station so he just kept walking until he was at Monica’s room, then without hesitating he was in and standing at the end of her bed.