Faces

by Martina Cole

  As Danny shifted the scrap metal for a local merchant, he saw that the man was watching him again. Louie Stein was always on the look out for good earners, and this kid was a grafter if ever he had seen one. He worked without a break, his young arms straining against the weight of the lead as he piled it neatly against the far wall. It was out of sight if Filth came around, and yet it was near enough to the front gates for a quick removal if that was required.

  Louie walked over to Danny Cadogan and smiled, his gold teeth glinting in the weak sunshine, reminding Danny of a shark he had once seen in a picture book.

  ‘Why aren’t you at school?’

  Danny shrugged and carried on working.

  ‘Answer me, boy. If someone asks you a question you should at least attempt an answer, even if it’s just a fabrication. A lie.’

  Louie’s words were clipped and Danny knew he had annoyed him. So he stopped what he was doing and, looking into the small man’s wrinkled face, he said seriously, ‘I need the money. What other reason would there be for doing this all day?’

  He said it respectfully, but Louie knew he was also trying to be sarcastic. He understood that, liked the boy for his spirit. He weighed him up; he was very young but he acted like a boy much older than his years. He had the arrogance that extreme youth seemed to command, still sure in the knowledge that he had many years ahead of him in which to live his life and achieve a few of his dreams, his goals.

  ‘Why do you need the money so badly?’

  Danny looked at the older man with a mixture of pity at his obvious stupidity and a natural cunning that made him want to see how the conversation progressed in case he could use it to his advantage. ‘Me mum needs a few quid in her bin, she’s skint.’

  Louie nodded, as if expecting the answer he had received. ‘You’re Big Dan Cadogan’s boy, aren’t you?’

  ‘Why ask me when you already know the answer? It’s not a secret.’

  Louie grinned once more. ‘A little bird told me that he is into a couple of hard cases for six large.’

  Danny forced his face to remain neutral, and he shrugged theatrically, as if this news was nothing to get wound up about. ‘He’ll pay them, what are you fucking telling me for?’

  Louie shrugged back, his shrunken body lost in the folds of his gabardine suit. Then, laughing, he wiped his nose on a dazzling white handkerchief he pulled from his trouser pocket with a flourish. It was like a magician’s movement, exaggerated and over the top, and Danny knew he was paying him back for his overstated shrug.

  ‘Forewarned is forearmed, my boy. Remember that, it will hold you in good stead all your life. Now, shift that lead, Filth will be scrabbling around soon; they know it’s here but they don’t like it if it’s on display. I pay them to look the other way and they take the money, as long as they don’t feel I am extracting the urine, if you get my drift.’ He laughed once more, his bony shoulders shaking with his idea of mirth.

  ‘Out of sight, out of mind. Another great saying to add to your collection.’

  Danny rolled his eyes in annoyance. ‘I’ll bring a pen and paper next time, shall I? Write everything down in case I forget it.’

  Louie walked away, his laugh louder than ever, and Danny watched him with anger and shame in his heart. Six large, that was a lot of money. The few quid for his day’s collar seemed like nothing now. He shook his head at the shock of the man’s words, at the realisation of what they actually meant to him and his family. Six large. It was enough to buy a house, and his old man had gambled it away when they couldn’t even pay the rent on the roof over their heads, let alone buy it. And he was reduced to wearing a pair of boots so dilapidated that even his father had abandoned them. His mother was dressed like someone from the good old days, and his brother and sister were both far too young to understand about the intricacies of money and what you actually needed it for. And yet, despite that, his father, his fucking useless waster of a father, had lost a small fortune on the turn of a card.

  Louie watched the lad as what he had told him sank in. He saw how he picked up the heavy lead and swung it as if it weighed nothing. He knew he would work out his anger before going on his way. He knew the boy was upset and he was sorry for that, but Louie knew that if it had been him, he would have wanted to know about it sooner rather than later.

  He had five daughters himself, five lovely girls with great personalities and no real looks. Danny would have been a blessing for someone like him, someone to leave his business to, someone to carry his name on. Life was unfair, but then you played the hand you had been dealt, as his father had always said. But, if you were really unlucky then you found yourself playing the hand the Murrays dealt you. Fucking gamblers, losers every last one of them. And this boy and his family would be branded as losers along with their old man; a debt like that was owed by everyone even remotely related to the debtee.

  Young Danny Cadogan could feel old man Stein watching him, and the shame of his situation made his face burn. The six large was still in the forefront of his mind and he knew that what Louie had told him was the truth. The old boy was trying to soften the blow, better it came from him than hearing it from a hairy-arsed debt collector one Saturday morning. He wondered if his mother knew, and whether he should be the one to tell her. Life was hard, and this growing-up lark was not all it was cracked up to be either. He went back to stacking the lead, hoping the physical work would help take his mind off his troubles.

  Annuncia Cadogan, known as Annie, was in her element; for the first time in her life she was alone. No mammy watching her every move, and no brothers making sure that she didn’t do anything to make their mammy angry. She sat in the small classroom and beamed a wide and pretty smile at all who looked in her direction. It was the smell she had noticed first, a mixture of floor polish and fresh paint. Now though, added to that was the musky scent of thirty small children, some bathed for the first time in weeks. Most of the children were wearing their older siblings’ hand-me-downs, and a few others, like herself, were in painfully new uniforms that caused them to stand out even more than the Asian kids, who were still new to the area and spoke English with an accent.

  Like many of the children around her, Annie had a working knowledge of the Bible, and of the church itself. A lot of the children were from parents who educated their offspring in the Catholic religion, even though they weren’t beating a path to the church door themselves. They just didn’t have the time or the inclination after a hard week’s work. Work took precedence over a lot of things in England and, unlike Ireland, where most of their parents hailed from, the church, though still a big part of their lives, didn’t dictate their every waking hour.

  Carole Rourke was sitting next to her and Annie held her hand tightly as she listened to the story of St Francis of Assisi. She loved hearing about him because she prayed to him nightly that she might be allowed a pet of some kind. Her mother had refused her requests for a dog or a cat, but she was sure a rabbit or a hamster might be within the realms of possibility.

  As her first day at school passed she felt the weight of her home life being lifted off her shoulders, and she hoped that this feeling of excitement would not leave her. By home time she had decided that this place was not going to be the bane of her life as her brothers seemed to believe it was theirs, and she was looking forward to coming back the next day - much more than she was looking forward to her father’s eventual return to the family home, even though she knew she was his favourite.

  Trouble was brewing there and she knew it would come sooner rather than later. Her father was a man who was either terrorising the life out of them all, or making them laugh their heads off. There was never a happy medium where he was concerned. But this new school lark would guarantee that she was out from under her mother’s watchful gaze for a few hours at least.

  ‘Oh, Jesus fecking cross of Christ, six hundred pounds! Are you sure, Dan? Surely even that fool I married wouldn’t be that stupid?’ But even as she spoke she knew it was
the truth.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. Louie Stein told me about it today; I think he was trying to be helpful. I know he’s a front wheel, but he’s always been straight with me. He’s offered me some more work this week and all.’

  Angelica wasn’t listening to him now, she was reeling with the news her son had just imparted. The consequences would be dire; that much she knew. There was no way they would be able to raise that kind of cash. If they had been able to get their hands on six hundred pounds they would have been living the life of Riley and eating like a gladiator on his day off. Her husband had pulled some stunts over the years, but this was a blinder - even by his standards.

  Danny watched his mother as she digested the information, and he knew that she had not even noticed the two pound notes he had placed on the table. His father’s debt had made his contribution to the household look paltry by comparison. He was working when he should be in school, he was dressed like a tramp when how he looked was all important to him, he had few friends because he couldn’t afford to take part in any of their teenage high jinks; even the Saturday morning pictures was out of his league. He was an outcast among people who were classed as the poorest of the poor. He was trying to make a difference for his brother and sister, ease his mother’s burden, the same mother he knew, who was not even aware of the sacrifices he made to try and lighten her load. Turning from her he went into the bedroom he shared with his younger siblings and, lying on the bed he shared with Jonjo, he forced back the tears, because he knew they were a luxury he couldn’t afford.

  Chapter Two

  Danny was quieter than usual, but no one noticed. He was living on his nerves, waiting for his father to come home and, at the same time, hoping that he didn’t turn up. His younger brother and sister were both feeling the tension in the household and he was past putting their minds at rest. His mother, however, gravitated from cursing her husband over hill and dale, to crying because she was convinced he was dead somewhere. Stabbed or beaten to death over six hundred quid. Then the reminder of the amount he had foolishly gambled away would set her off on a tirade of cursing once more.

  Everyone knew about it now, so, on top of everything else, they were a talking point for the whole estate. Something his mother, always a proud woman, found very difficult to cope with. It was as if their whole life was now under scrutiny, and they didn’t know how to react to it. His father was becoming smaller and smaller in his mind, his absence making Danny resent him, even though he knew that, until his father could pay his debt off, it would be madness to come anywhere near this estate, let alone his family.

  As Danny made a pot of tea, he heard a hammering on the front door and, turning down the gas underneath the boiling kettle, he walked out into the small hallway. Pushing his mother into the bedroom with his younger siblings he shut the door firmly on them all. The terror was already enveloping him, this was the knock he had been waiting for and, now that it had finally arrived, he knew his courage was deserting him.

  ‘Open the fucking door, we know you’re in there.’ The voice was full of hate and the knowledge that whoever was listening to it was already frightened. It was a debt collector’s voice, the voice of someone who had said those same words over and over again, and yet meant them more each time.

  Danny stood in the small hallway gritting his teeth as he willed the shaking that had suddenly attacked his body like an ague to stop. Then, swallowing down his fear, he opened the front door, just as the hammering started up once again. ‘Relax, what do you want?’ His deep voice and irritated demeanour was not lost on the visitors.

  Danny was looking at two men; one tall and thin, the other short and fat. He saw a facial similarity and assumed, rightly, that these were the Murray brothers of local legend. They were both blond, with thin straggly hair and small brown eyes. They had the same flat bone structure and rounded, Slavic-looking features that they had inherited from their mother. They looked like a pair of simpletons, an act they had perfected over the years to make people think they were harmless. An act that they dropped when they had achieved their objective, which was either entering someone’s home or playing the police for fools if they were called out.

  ‘Is your dad in, son?’ The smaller one spoke in a friendly and amiable fashion.

  Danny shook his head. ‘ ’Course he ain’t. He’s hardly going to come back here knowing you are after him, is he?’

  Walter Murray, the elder of the two brothers, and also the taller, nodded in agreement at Danny’s answer. He seemed thrilled at the response, as if the words had been exactly what he had wanted to hear. ‘Fair enough, son. So now, you understand we have to enquire as to whether you know where he might be.’

  Danny shook his head once more. ‘He can fuck off as far as I’m concerned and, if you see him before I do, you can tell him that from me.’

  Danny knew that his conversation with the Murrays was being overheard by most of the neighbours. That was the downside to these flats; nothing could ever be kept private, no matter how personal. Even the neighbours’ sex lives were a topic of conversation, they could be heard copulating by everyone who shared a wall, floor or ceiling with them. You got used to it, as you did hearing their toilets flushing or their baths running. Now that the gossip was about them he understood why people got so angry about it.

  Walter Murray looked at the large young man before him, took in his wild-eyed fear and boxer’s stance. He was game, the kid, if nothing else.

  ‘Look, son, if we don’t locate him in the next few days and collect the dosh owing, then we will remove everything from this flat; beds, chairs, the lot. Then we’ll come back again and take whatever else we can find.’ The threat was evident and open.

  Danny looked into his eyes with genuine bewilderment. ‘Why do you want to hurt us? My old man is the one who owes you the money, and you’ve more chance of being paid in Bulgarian luncheon vouchers than getting six large off him.’

  Wilfred Murray, the shorter of the two brothers grinned, and it was a calculated and deliberate movement of his face. There was nothing there to make an onlooker think he was actually enjoying himself. ‘Are you a bit thick, mate?’

  Danny swallowed down his anger and, forcing his face into a mask of innocence he said quietly, ‘Well, I must be. As far as I’m concerned you have done us lot the favour of our lives; the old man disappearing was a bonus for us, mate. But I warn you now, you come near my family again and you’d better come mob-handed, because if I survive your next visit I’ll make it me life’s work to hunt you two down and obliterate you.’ It was said without anger, and with a quiet dignity that made the large young man in front of them seem almost menacing.

  ‘Hark at him! Fucking Harry Dash! Are you having a tin bath, son?’ Wilfred’s laughter was loud and laced with sarcasm.

  Danny didn’t make any kind of movement, he just stared at them. He saw that he was much bigger physically than the pair of them put together. He was a big lad, he knew, and he also knew that, thanks to his father, he was having to act the hard man and face down two notorious thugs. But he knew that if they threatened his family he would have to do what he had threatened. He put his hand up then, an instinctive movement, and pointed a warning finger at the two men.

  ‘I mean it. If you come near my family I will not be responsible. If it takes me the rest of my life I’ll find you and I’ll kill you. See, my father is the one you have the fucking argument with, not us. And, while you’re at it, ask yourself what kind of person really believes that someone who lives here could have six large sitting in his back pocket. You’ve got more chance of getting a wank off the queen than recouping that money, and you know it.’

  Walter knew the boy spoke the truth but they had collected debts from poorer people than this over the years. It was amazing what people were capable of when under pressure. Walter’s fist shot out and connected with Danny’s face, sending the boy flying backwards. As Danny hit the brown-tiled floor he saw his mother fly out from the bedroom with a s
mall axe that she had raised above her head and, before he could stop her, she had brought it down, with all her might, onto the smaller man on her doorstep. Danny saw him drop like a stone, and then he saw his mother wrench the axe from the man’s chest and aim it at Wilfred’s head. It connected with his shoulder and his scream was heard all over the estate.

  ‘You fecking touch my kids and I’ll fecking destroy the pair of you.’ She was hacking at the two men now, and they were both bleeding profusely from their wounds. As she hit them, and screamed her anger into their faces, Danny pulled himself to his feet, grabbed his mother around the waist, and pushed her into the kitchen. Seeing the kettle, and hearing the two men coming into the flat, their shock now giving way to anger, Danny picked the kettle up and slung the contents into both their faces. Their screams were loud and long, but his mother’s shrieking seemed to drown them out.

  As Danny looked at them, the scalded skin on their faces, the open wounds from his mother’s attack, he wondered if he had wandered into a nightmare. His father had a lot to answer for and, when he finally showed up, Danny would make sure he knew exactly what he had caused.

  He shoved the two men out of the flat. As he grabbed hold of Wilfred his hand took off a layer of skin and he knew that had to hurt like fuck. Then he slammed the front door and, leaning against it, he waited until he could breathe properly once more and the urge to vomit had passed. Then he went to his mother; she was still in the kitchen, clutching the axe in her arms as if holding a baby.