The Rules

by KERRY BARNES

  ‘Mike, what the fuck are ya on about? What’s going on inside that warped mind of yours?’

  With a sinister glare still plastered across Mike’s face, he stepped forward. ‘You don’t like my boy, do ya?’

  Eric flinched and stepped back.

  ‘I said, do ya?’ yelled Mike, now an inch away from Eric’s face.

  ‘Mike, seriously, ya don’t for a minute think . . . Oh my God, you can’t believe I would hurt Ricky? Christ, I love the boy. Why would I do that? That ain’t me. What’s got into you?’

  With a sudden jolt back to reality, Mike dropped his shoulders and shook his head. ‘Oh fuck, I dunno,’ he sighed.

  The sudden tension in the room subsided as Mike walked away. ‘Listen, Eric, I think you’d better leave. I’m very tired and I wanna be left alone.’

  Eric now felt he had the upper hand. He could immediately tell Mike was feeling guilty for accusing him. ‘Hold on a minute. Don’t you fucking dare accuse me and then walk away. Who the fuck do you think you are, eh?’

  That voice of Eric’s was really doing his head in. So much so that Mike spun around and shot his brother an evil look. ‘Don’t you fucking push it, Eric. If you’re gonna go around like a cagey cunt, then take the consequences. Your secrets will be irrelevant one day, but the fact that you have them won’t stop me from wondering if you’re really on me and our family’s side.’

  ‘I don’t have secrets. I’m just a private person.’

  Mike rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath to stop his fist from clenching through frustration. ‘We don’t even know you anymore. You’re like a bleedin’ stranger that pops up and pretends you’re in the fold, when, in reality, to me, you smell like the enemy. Now, fuck off!’

  Knowing how reckless Mike could be, Eric decided it was best that he left – intact – while he still could.

  Mike slammed the door and clutched his head in exasperation. He had to calm down and think straight or he would never find out who’d hurt his son. Just as he was about to pour himself a stiff drink, his phone rang. It was Zara.

  His pulse raced; of all the people, she was the one he wanted to speak to. ‘Hello, love. Look, can we meet? I really do need to speak to you.’

  There was a pause. ‘Mike, I just need to know if your skanky wife grassed me to the Ol’ Bill?’

  His heart dropped to his stomach. There was still no change in her voice. Her tone was so cold, he could sense it. ‘No, babe, ’course not. I made sure she wouldn’t. Look, this has all got so messy. I don’t care why you cut her face, I just want you to know, she’s here ’cos of Ricky, nothing else.’

  ‘Not my business, Mike, but getting nicked certainly is. That’s why I called. I’m really sorry about Ricky. I mean it. I hope to God he makes a full recovery. I genuinely mean that. I wouldn’t wish any harm on any of you, but I think it’s better that I stay away from your family for the moment and focus on my own business.’

  He felt his throat tighten with hurt. He really needed her, but she was turning her back on him. ‘Zara . . . I, um, I care so much about you, ya know.’

  ‘Well, you just concentrate on Ricky. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’

  ‘It’s all my fault, Zara. I think I’ve fucked up, and now he’s lying in that sick bed, fighting for his life.’

  ‘Mike, don’t blame yourself. How the hell could what happened to him and that girl have anything to do with you?’

  He sighed and had a sudden urge to tell her why he was released early and what his mission was really all about; however, his pause was too long.

  ‘Mike, I have to go.’ With that, the phone went dead. As he stared at the blank screen, he felt his world caving in. His dreams of having Zara by his side as his wife, the two firms united, had now vanished into the stratosphere. And it was all because of that fucking party and her stubbornness to see things at face value and not listen to him. As for Jackie’s little cameo appearance, dressed in his shirt, what a balls-up that was! He couldn’t have made it up. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so bloody serious. He’d only made matters worse. He poured himself a second drink and knocked it back. A sudden wailing from upstairs just irritated him even more. The lunatic bitch was the cause of all his troubles, and, for a moment, he thought about ending her life. After yet another drink, he felt his shoulders relax, and his head began to take control over his heart.

  ***

  Jackie had finally stopped shaking. The sickness was still plaguing her, but her mind was now more her own. She stepped out of her soaking wet clothes and crawled under the covers. The feeling of ants inside her had gradually receded and was now nothing but a niggly annoyance. As she pulled the soft duvet over her sore body and lay the uncut side of her face onto the pillow, she sighed with relief. Closing her eyes was heavenly as the nightmare visions were now gone. Sleep was calling; at last, she could rest.

  ***

  Mike lay on the couch, unburdening his tired limbs; however, no sooner had he drifted off than the phone startled him. This time it was a withheld number. ‘Hello!’ He knew he sounded only half-awake.

  ‘Mr Regan, could you come up to the hospital? Ricky is coming round. We didn’t top up the medication, but he seems to be making headway.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he replied, hearing the positive tone in the doctor’s voice. ‘I’m on my way . . . Is he . . .?’

  ‘We don’t know just yet, but I think that when he sees you, it will make him less anxious and this, as you know, is a critical time for him. We don’t want anything to happen that might cause him to fall back into a coma. I’m sure your presence will help him immensely.’

  ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  With scarcely concealed excitement, Mike reached the hospital, now in an upbeat mood. So many negative vibes had been running through him recently, but the doctor’s phone call had lifted his spirits.

  But his improved frame of mind didn’t last. The car park was full, so he parked in the side street for permit holders only. As he stepped out of his Porsche Cayenne, a traffic warden was onto him like a rash.

  ‘You can’t park there. You haven’t got a permit.’

  Mike looked the scrawny, prune-faced warden up and down. ‘My son’s in the hospital. I ain’t got time to scour the streets, and the car park’s full.’

  The warden looked at his notebook, shaking his head. ‘Not my problem, sir. You can’t park there.’

  ‘Didn’t you just hear me, mate? There’s nowhere else to park, and the doctors want me there, like fucking now!’

  His sudden loud and aggressive tone made the warden look up with grave concern. ‘I’ll call the police, if necessary!’

  ‘Oh, yeah, you little jumped-up prick? And you’ll need a fucking ambulance an’ all, if ya do. Best ya shut ya fucking cakehole and get out of my way. And if you so much as touch my motor, I’ll come back and find you and stick that pen of yours right through your eyeball!’

  The warden shrank into his oversized uniform and stepped aside.

  Mike sprinted along the path and into the main entrance of the hospital. The queue for the lift was long enough for him to jump the stairs two at a time. Once he reached the ward, he was out of breath and took a full gasp before he straightened himself and made his way to his son’s private room. The vision of four nurses and two doctors took him aback; they all seemed to be rushing about changing tubes and fiddling with the machines.

  Doctor Redwood spun around and hurried over to the doorway to face Mike. The look on his face had Mike fearful. Again, he felt the world on his shoulders.

  ‘He’s struggling. His blood pressure’s gone up, and I’m afraid it’s serious. Look. Wait outside for a minute or so, please.’

  Mike could hardly breathe, he was so fearful for his son. Ignoring the doctor, he pushed the nurses aside to find Ricky almost having a fit. His eyes were rolling around and his muscles were twitching.

  ‘Ricky, it’s Dad. I’m here, Son. I’m right here. It’s gonna be all right.
You’re safe, I promise.’

  Constance, the nurse, was studying the cardiac monitor and she called out, ‘He’s stabilizing.’

  The doctor pulled Mike back. ‘Let me see.’

  He watched as Ricky’s body slowly stopped shaking and contorting; his eyes began to blink, and his breathing slowed down.

  Mike was still holding his breath, willing his son to live. ‘That’s it, Ricky, my boy. You’re okay, Son.’

  The doctor’s concern for his patient changed; he allowed Mike to get closer to him because whatever he was doing or saying it seemed to be working.

  Mike leaned over the bed and stroked Ricky’s head. He kissed his cheeks and continued to whisper. ‘You’re all right. Dad’s here, and I ain’t going anywhere. Come back to me, Son.’

  ‘Please, carry on talking to him. He may be reliving the incident, which, at this stage, is very critical. We can’t have his heart rate or his blood pressure going through the roof.’

  In all the commotion, they didn’t see Gloria standing in the doorway with her hands over her mouth, until Constance looked over.

  ‘Please, come in. You’re his grandmother, aren’t you?’

  With tears flowing down her cheeks, Gloria just nodded. She slowly stepped forward, afraid of what she might witness. As she peered down, she saw the gentle flicker of her grandson’s eyelashes. Gently pushing Mike aside, she held Ricky’s hand. ‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . . ’ she sang through her tears.

  She had always sung that song, ever since he was a newborn baby. It was the only thing he remembered when he was reunited with his family.

  The combined efforts of the Regans had brought about a change in the room: the tension had palpably lifted.

  The nurse smiled. ‘He’s definitely stabilized. We have him back.’

  Mike looked up and saw a dark-haired woman in her late thirties with tears in her eyes. For a moment, she reminded him of Zara. It was her narrow nose, the copper-coloured eyes, and that serene classy look about her. He smiled back.

  ‘Look! He’s opening his eyes,’ cried Gloria.

  Ricky blinked a few more times, and then he looked straight at his father and grandmother. Gloria felt him grip her hand.

  The doctor had hurried around to the other side of the bed, not wanting to intervene as the family’s presence was working wonders. He pulled out a pen light and shone it in Ricky’s eyes.

  ‘Ricky, I am Doctor Redwood. Can you hear me?’

  Ricky gently nodded.

  ‘Good. Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?’

  Ricky whispered, ‘Two.’

  Redwood looked over at Mike and winked. ‘We’ll need to do further tests, but, so far, so good. Please try to keep him calm.’

  Mike nodded, and an unexpected tear fell down his cheek. ‘You get some rest, Ricky. You need to get better, so we can have you back home.’

  ‘I’m okay, Dad,’ said Ricky, with a dry, muffled voice.

  ***

  Alastair tried to put his arms around his wife but was swiftly rebuffed. ‘Get off me,’ she yelled.

  ‘I’m only trying to help, Rebecca.’

  ‘Help? And how do you think you can help me, eh? My daughter’s dead. Nothing will ever take this pain away. She hated you, she left because of you, and now, I will never see her again.’

  Alastair flared his nostrils in a raging temper. He was sick to death of the same words spewing from her mouth.

  ‘Now, look. I never did this to her. Stop blaming me. She never hated me.’

  ‘Yes, she did!’ she screamed. ‘She couldn’t stand you.’ With her face now bright red and a vein prominently pulsating in her temple, she went on, ‘I know how she felt. I am . . . I mean, I was her mother. I knew how she really felt, not you. You knew nothing about her!’

  ‘Stop it will you, just stop it!’ screamed Poppy, who had dashed downstairs to see what all the fuss was about. ‘I can’t stand this anymore,’ she yelled, her face red and blotchy. ‘My sister is dead and all you do, Mother, is place the blame on everyone else. It’s Dad, me, or Brooke. Well, you need to be told the truth!’

  Rebecca was stunned that her quiet, studious daughter was spitting out words with so much venom.

  ‘Poppy!’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Mother. Don’t act so bloody self-righteous. We’ve all had a bloody skinful of your high-and-mighty ways. If I’d had the same father as Kendall, I’d have gone too.’

  ‘Poppy, stop it!’ shouted Rebecca.

  ‘No, I won’t, Mother. I’m sick of you. You’ve blamed everyone, even your own brother for not doing his job, but the fact of the matter is, she left because of you. I’m surprised she even lasted as long as she did. You have no idea about any of us, have you? And I’d also be surprised if you even know yourself. All you are is the fucking MP.’

  Rebecca was open-mouthed and shocked to the core. Never had she heard her daughter raise her voice, let alone swear. Once again, she said the wrong thing. ‘Don’t you use language like that in front of me, young lady!’

  ‘See, there you go again. It’s all about fucking appearances with you, isn’t it?’

  Rebecca spun around to face Alastair. ‘Will you bloody say something? Tell her, will you!’

  Alastair sighed. ‘Leave it, Poppy, yeah?’

  She shot him a hostile glance. ‘Why the hell should I stop? We all know that Kendall hated her . . . and with good reason.’

  Suddenly, Rebecca threw her coffee mug into the sink, smashing it into a thousand pieces. ‘What good reason, eh? Tell me why you think my daughter hated me?’

  Poppy’s eyes flicked towards her father to find a shift in his composure. A wry smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and she knew he was about to use his sarcasm mixed with empathetic words in such a passive-aggressive way, it made her feel sick.

  ‘Oh, come on, Rebecca, love. Let’s not kid ourselves. It’s probably time to face the truth, if we’re going to be honest with ourselves. Kendall never wanted to leave her father’s home. It’s not your fault. You probably thought you were doing what was right, but we have to face the truth, darling. She wasn’t happy here, she never really was. Can’t you remember, sweetheart, how she begged night after night to go back? I know it must be hard for you because you expected her to fall into your arms and be the doting daughter. Perhaps Kendall believed you only took her back because it wouldn’t look good for the press.’

  Totally stunned by this somewhat cryptic self-analysis, it took Rebecca several moments to absorb the waspish words coming out of her husband’s mouth. So much for husband and wife loyalty, she thought. She gawped at Alastair and then at her daughter. ‘So, what’s this all about, then? Are you all blaming me?’

  ‘No!’ sighed Alastair, now wishing he’d stayed at work.

  Poppy let out an explosive sigh and shook her head in exasperation.

  ‘Well, I am! You’re so superficial that all you wanted was the area clean and pretty. Spending money on fucking new street signs, roundabouts with flowers on them, street cleaners by the dozen, updating a poxy shopping centre . . . the list is endless. There you are in your Givenchy suit, cutting a poxy ribbon with a false, sickly grin on your face, fussing over the fucking voters. I’ve watched the oohs and aahs, as you make your pathetic speeches, preaching to the uneducated, when, really, Mother, you ignored the violence and the drugs and took your eye off the ball. So, it’s not surprising, is it, that the crime rate is increasing? You should have been a cheap, talentless celebrity, making your money from a stint on Big Brother instead of being in part responsible for people’s lives!’

  The room fell silent as both Alastair and Rebecca stared at their child, who, from nowhere, had suddenly found her voice, and, it seemed, was wasting no time in using it, much to the shock of her parents.

  ‘Huh. Don’t look so surprised. The truth hurts, Mother. How the hell you got into politics is beyond me. The only bench you should be sitting on is the fucking garden bench. Have you even listened
to Brooke? Because if I were you, I would start now. If you don’t, mark my words: I will make sure that sister of mine is educated about your ways. Her attack has been brushed under the carpet. You want to keep it all hush-hush because it will look bad on you. We aren’t babies, Mother. We have minds of our own, and she needs counselling. And I know why she hasn’t had it because God forbid if that bit of news ever went viral.’ Her voice suddenly became sarcastic. ‘The local MP’s daughter raped by three druggies!’

  Without warning, Rebecca stepped forward and slapped Poppy hard across the face.

  Like Kendall would have done, Poppy didn’t move but stared daringly back at her mother. ‘That, Mother, just about sums you up. The truth is shocking, and you just can’t bear to hear it. Well, slapping me won’t stop it coming out sooner or later.’

  Suddenly, the atmosphere became toxic, the three entities in the room each paralysed by their own thoughts.

  To make matters worse, had they but known it, their nightmares were only just beginning.

  Hell called with a loud knock at the front door. The sound was just enough for them all to stare at each other for a moment. Rebecca shot a questioning glance at Alastair, who, in turn, shrugged his shoulders.

  Poppy marched from the room and along the hallway to confront the source of the heavy bang at the door. Just through the frosted glass, she could make out a towering figure with a mop of dark hair. She guessed who it was. This will be fun, she thought. Pulling the door wide open, she stepped back to invite him in.

  He stared for a moment at the pretty blonde-haired young woman, with an unusual blueness in her eyes that probably never gave anything away. She looked nothing like Kendall except for the cold expression. But when the light caught her face, something suddenly stirred inside him.

  Lance Ryder took a deep breath and stomped his way through the hallway and straight into the kitchen. It was apparent an argument had ensued, judging by Rebecca’s flushed cheeks and red eyes. He turned his head to face Alastair. Through exhaustion, grief, and fatigue, Lance seethed at the man who appeared to be unmoved by the death of his daughter. His big frame stood there defiantly with a veil of conceit cloaking his expression. Then he looked over at his former wife. Lance clenched his fists and squared his jaw. The sharp edge of rage poked him, as she stood there brooding and looking sorry for herself. The atmosphere was thick with poisonous fumes.