by Tom Butler
He recalled the two-hour sessions he had spared a young Angelica soon after they had met up and begun dating. London was a hard place to master the skills of driving, and she had shown no aptitude for it before. But with perseverance and only a handful paid-for lessens, she astounded herself and others who knew her well by sailing through her test and passing first time.
‘You had a good teacher,’ he remembered telling her smugly, afterwards.
‘I’ve never been so nervous before,’ she replied.
‘It’s better that way; sometimes, over confidence is a great danger with all that manic traffic about, you can so easily foul up.’
He had sounded something of an expert when really he wasn’t, but at least, his knowledge of London and the testing area in particular proved an invaluable contribution in helping her get her licence. Whether he thought she was a good driver or not was a completely different matter. It was rare that she drove when they went anywhere together and must have been one of those telepathic, unwritten rules only broken when there was a jolly good reason for it.
Michael suddenly felt cold again and very alone. He began shivering, and as the light faded a little with the disappearance of the sun, he wondered if he should simply stay where he was or move on. He also began to think about the children in earnest for the first time since leaving the house six hours ago.
And he felt hungry. And really thirsty too.
It would be easy from where he was to walk to the nearest shop or garage to buy a sandwich and a bottle of water, and no one would challenge him. So he did just that, finding a Tesco Express within ten minutes of where he was parked. The water was welcome, and it was half gone in seconds. But after just one mouthful of the spicy chicken wrap which was on its sell by date, his hunger pang left him, and he couldn’t bring himself to take another bite though he thought he might keep it for later.
A voice in his head told him he must make sure the children were alright, and he quickened his pace to reach the car. There was a faint siren in the distance, and he thought no more of it. With no rhyme or reason, he started the car, and once back on the road into Coalville, he seemed to be sure of his destination, and in approximately twenty minutes, he was sitting outside Broom Infants and Junior School.
Broom was a delightful place to be when the weather was kind. Apart from the school, there was a pub, The Wayfairer’s Arms, a small farm shop run by an elderly brother and sister, a cricket pitch and pavilion, tiny church and a dozen or so houses dotted about and looking as if they were meant to be there.
The Swans had had serious reservations about the school as they both felt it was too laid back, lacked facilities and perpetually smelt of newly mowed grass. But a meeting with the Head Teacher and positive feedback from other parents convinced them to give it a try, and in the main, the children loved it there, all of them flourishing in their own way. Mary was bright for her age and read more than most in her year-two class. She also adored drawing and painting just like her mother had at a similar age and was forever getting plaudits from her teacher for imaginative use of colour.
James was arty too though he preferred music, but Noah was all sport, racing through his swimming badges, captaining his football and cricket teams and excelling as an athlete. Best friend Ashley was never far behind him, and sometimes it seemed they were joined at the hip, so inseparable; it was difficult to tell them apart. Leaving aside thoughts of Ashley and looking around for his own children, he could see no sign of them. The whole place looked deserted.
He looked at his watch, a watch Angelica had bought him last Christmas to replace one he had badly scratched cleaning the car. How had so much time evaded him? Why was he here? It started him off worrying, and worry turned to deep concern. Never before, when he came to meet them had they failed to show themselves and jump in beside him. Then he remembered it was Wednesday. The day they would have the treat of freshly baked cakes waiting for them and the day Angelica trusted the boys and Mary to come straight home themselves, always keeping someone they knew in sight and never once crossing the main road or what bit they encountered of it.
He began to drive home, a distance, by road, of less than two thirds of a mile.
But he hadn’t made it more than a hundred yards when he was stopped dead in his tracks. The black BMW had come from nowhere and had cut across in front him, forcing him virtually into a thick hedge. How dare someone do that? Although unmarked, the car did have blue flashing lights, and there were two men in suits getting out of it even before it had stopped its forward motion.
Both men looked very keen to speak to him, and one was already opening his door and shouting. Michael Swan looked momentarily down at the knife which was certainly out of his reach without him unbuckling his belt. He wanted so much to reach across to it, but the man was not going to allow it. He was shouting even louder and had pulled Michael’s keys from the ignition. The passenger door swung open, and there were now two loud voices.
He knew there was nowhere to run to, and he had no energy left to speak of. He also knew they had a job to do and wouldn’t fail to carry it out. Resisting them was futile. He didn’t try.
******
Part Two
Chapter Nine
The band was called Hooded Eye, and this was considered to be its big break in terms of performing. At seventeen, Noah Swan was the youngest member and had been taken on to play bass guitar though he much preferred playing lead which gave him much greater scope to express himself. Popularity on YouTube together with a social website hype had brought about the University gig in Bristol even though all but one of the five band members were born and bred in the East Midlands. The hall was rocking and after putting back his phone, James was now joining in, revelling in the moment in spite of his inevitable, sad news.
Somebody had to tell Noah the news, but if he stayed behind after the gig, he would miss his train, and Sylvia and Phillip would be beside themselves with worry. But his brother needed to know, and nothing would stop James from being the one to tell him. It had to be someone close, someone who could share any outpouring of grief if that was to be the underlying gut reaction. Somebody who could empathise, whether it caused deep pain or not.
There was another reason too why James needed to speak to Noah. The very song the band were now playing belonged to him. His brother had stolen it. Modified and tweaked, it might have been, but it was still his, and Noah had no right to it. The lyrics and original melody were his. “Peaceful Man” was his. All he had to do was prove it.
There was no question the song would put Hooded Eye on the map. It might even make the top hundred as it was getting more and more plays and had been plugged by BBC Radio Leicester last week. The band had won themselves a record deal on the strength of it and were busy working on their very first album, recording songs their vocalist Melissa Murray had penned with her musical-minded dad, Jed.
They had settled in the East Midlands after arriving from north of the border, and Melissa was the driving force behind the band, her energetic style of singing and the three tone coloured hair getting them noticed, especially on the student circuit.
For James, she was just too loud. She had a gifted voice indeed, but it was over projected and distorted and needed stripping back. Even Jed said as much at times, but there was no disputing she could work an audience and it was plain to see she had male and female students alike eating out of her hands. Fame was beckoning, and the band was aiming high. It seemed the only way was up.
Ironically, Jed, who also managed the band, knew about “Peaceful Man” and James’s predicament. He had often referred to it as being borrowed and said James would get his just rewards. But he was a businessman, and things said in a casual manner then changed in time, especially with a recording contract in the offing. Besides, Noah had convinced him the brothers had written it together when they were simply messing about, and being the eldest ought to give him the right to it. As if by some ancient proxy or unwritten rule.
Just because James was only fifteen didn’t make him green behind the gills, however. The simple truth was that Noah had played no real significant part in Peaceful Man other than ridiculing its corny, almost spiritualistic lyrics and repetitive chorus line which James believed made it so endearing and timeless.
To claim the song as his own was both outrageous and hurtful. And Noah had underestimated his sibling. If James’s news did help to bring them back together or tread common ground, the song might harbour a feud and very well tear them apart forever. And though he was loving the gig and in many ways excited for his brother, he was beginning to dread the scene when the last of the encores were over, and he had prised Noah away from the others.
Getting backstage proved to be a struggle, and he was one of many offering congratulations though the welcome he got from Noah was understated.
With little emotion in his voice he said, ‘You made it, bro, what did you think of the show?’
He was standing next to best friend Ashley and several excitable girls who James assumed to be the modern day groupies he had unwittingly heard about. Student types with glistening eyes and extra tight jeans.
‘Well,’ he deliberated. ‘Not bad,’ he conceded. He wasn’t going to go overboard with praise.
One of the girls turned to him and winked. She had very long blonde hair and glitter on both cheeks. She wore a white see-through top with a black bra underneath. James couldn’t help but notice her.
‘You have a brother?’ she exclaimed as though it had been a national secret.
‘This is James, everyone,’ Noah introduced him.
Another girl with similar length hair but much darker in shade of colour surprised him with a kiss and said her name was Hannah. She was skinny and pale.
Ashley, whom he hadn’t seen for the same length of time as Noah, acknowledged him and looked envious at the attention he had attracted from Hannah. He had on a Hooded Eye t-shirt that was ill fitting at the shoulders and plainly too long.
‘We’re having a party; you must come,’ Noah invited James, though it came through gritted teeth. ‘It’ll be fun.’ He added.
The tainted image of sex, drugs and rock and roll flashed into James’s head.
‘My bro has a wicked voice. He even sang in a church choir,’ Noah went on nonsensically and sarcastically.
Hannah was in right close to James, studying him like a rare zoo creature. Her make up made her colourless face look gothic, her lipstick was bright crimson. Some of it was smudged on James’s face where she had kissed him.
‘How fascinating,’ she said, smiling widely.
He was shocked to get any form of compliment from his brother and knew it couldn’t last. Though genuinely pleased for Noah, he knew other things wouldn’t allow them to rekindle a closeness they once had. What minimal eye contact they had had said it all. There would be no great reunion tonight but neither, he hoped, would there be unpalatable acrimony and wild accusations.
Making it sound like an order, Noah said, ‘Come and meet Mel,’ grabbing his brother by his arm and ushering him away from the girls. But then he had the problem of getting anywhere near Melissa who had been swamped by adoring well-wishers.
James saw his opportunity. ‘I need to speak to you on your own, I have something to tell you,’ he said, fighting to get Noah to let go of him.
‘It can wait. Don’t spoil this for me,’ said Noah abruptly.
‘It can’t wait. I only heard it myself an hour ago.’
Noah looked serious. This should be a happy occasion. Bad news was forbidden.
James didn’t spare him. Although there was a lot of noise around them and much cheering, he had to say the words.
‘He’s dead. He died this afternoon. You needed to know.’
Noah disagreed. In his eyes, his father was already dead. In his heart, he had died the day he realised the truth about his father and the callous way he ended his mother’s life. The man he had worshipped became a monster there and then. He made no allowances, showed no compassion. Whoever had died today wasn’t his dad. He was somebody else. Somebody he didn’t know.
He thought about saying “Good riddance” but just shrugged instead. It mattered not and made no difference. His brother pricked at his conscience nevertheless by repeating himself.
‘Dad’s dead. I only found out myself just after you came on stage. They sent me a text.’
Noah’s expression never changed. Neither did his body language. Why should he react like it was a shock? Wouldn’t most people consider it a blessing? And wasn’t it a fitting end to be killed by a tumour in the name of justice.
He seemed poised to say something on the matter but suppressed the urge.
‘Come on, this way,’ he insisted, taking hold of James’s sleeve and pulling him through a gap. ‘There’s someone I think you should meet.’
The most noticeable thing about Melissa Murray when James was introduced to her was her size. She was tiny in comparison to most of those around her, and he now knew why she had picked up the “pocket rocket” nickname that both she and her father detested. In fairness, it suited her and was complimentary and not at all insulting. Until today, James had never seen her in the flesh before. She had a natural smile and infectious laugh; her hair was multi-coloured, spiky and somehow stylish; there was a genuine air of confidence both on and off stage, and she savoured every piece of attention she got without milking it.
In contrast, other members of the band, including Noah, seemed to think it was only fitting that they be idolised and put on a pedestal which was both presumptive and misguided given the competitive genre of music they had chosen to play. Rock bands emanating from the bowels of sixth form colleges and University campuses were ten a penny, and there was little to choose between them. For Hooded Eye to climb into another league it was going to take a monumental effort, and though air plays of Peaceful Man might indeed help, it would take much more than that to promote them and give them the icon status they already assumed was just around the imaginary corner.
But at least with the diminutive Melissa at the forefront, they had hope and a real fighting chance. She may have been hard to listen to when she spoke broad Glaswegian, but there were times when her singing voice gelled with the music raging behind her, and it was why they were worth investing in and deserving of a break.
Right now, amid the backstage din, James understood nothing Melissa had said to him upon their introduction. The words came out of her mouth but were lost immediately, and he figured they didn’t matter. Although still a worthy moment in his life, James knew Noah was building a smokescreen around them so that the ownership of a song and its validity could be discussed perhaps another day hopefully a long time from now and better still never. No one would believe it had been thought up by a twelve-year-old and the lyrics scribbled down on the back of a used envelope and by somebody then purporting not to like music that much and often told to pay better attention in school music lessons.
It was a story for the bookshelves alright and one that could have two brothers at war very soon. And not even the sad news of the death of their father could distract them away from the cold fact the arguments to come might overshadow all else, leaving them locked in an unarmed combat of thoughts, words and incriminations.
Melissa’s dad Jed was now on the scene and shaking James by the hand and asking him what he had thought about the gig.
‘Pretty awesome,’ he replied upgrading his earlier assessment.
Noah’s ears pricked, and he knew what his brother’s game had been in not bestowing a high level of praise on the band initially. They weren’t the only words on the tip of his tongue, and he came close to bringing up the issue of song ownership with Jed right there though he thought better of it and chickened out.
Still making it known she liked what she saw was Hannah who was suddenly back to within a few feet of James and quite possibly stalking him. Dressed as he was and with his hair a bit wilder than usual he looked ol
der than he was, and when Noah pulled her aside and spoke in her ear, she visibly reigned back though it was barely tantamount to rejection as she had kept up an interested smile and made no serious attempt to back off.
At the ensuing party later which was just really a lock in at a pub near Filton, Hannah did broach the subject of age, and it was his turn to be shocked as she told him she was fifteen after convincing all and sundry she was a full time university student. They had a good laugh about it and were perhaps the only invited guests who remained sober, though they did pretend otherwise just for effect.
Naturally, James’s foster parents blew a collective gasket when he inflicted the news on them, an abbreviated text message telling them that he had missed his train back to Leicester and was staying over curtesy of his brother who got Jed to stump up for an additional room at the hotel the group had been booked into. And they would have been horrified to find out he had shared it with Hannah though neither did nothing more than just sleep there, she in the bed and he on the floor.
He had purposely not told them about his father and had put the event away in his head until he felt the inclination to resurrect it later. The inevitability of it had made the news more bearable, but there was no doubt in his mind that Mary would react badly when told, and she would be in need of one of his special hugs in such trying circumstances. It was hardly something he could rehearse with her, but he knew they would re-enact it perfectly together when the time came. You didn’t have to be grown up and have letters after your name to know exactly what to do. Perception took over. Age had nothing to do with it.
The look on Noah’s face when he found out about James and Hannah was pure theatre despite his brother’s protestations that nothing went on. He himself hadn’t pulled at the party, and he took that to mean cynically that not all good things came to those who waited. It predicted the mood he was in as another day began. Over breakfast there were questions and answers to compliment the stares and astonishment.
