‘I’m sorry Ana, but you’re going to have to hear me out, this is bigger than just Jill and me, so you need the full picture. Mick originally started working for my father years before Jill was born. They had become friends when Mick moved into the area and joined a local rugby team. My father, who was already playing there, immediately recognised Mick’s skill set – very few people got in his way due to his sheer size. A man whose job in the team was to stand firm and fight back, and he did!
Those that did try to take Mick on were soon put in their place, or worse, dispatched to A&E; what you’d call the ER. He was brought in to act as an enforcer to shore up my father’s trade of protection racketeer.
Three years later and the pub at the top of our street had become available after the landlord had been removed. Mick had earned enough trust to warrant him and Kathy taking it over. It became the hub for the gang, mainly as a meeting place, but also a place for money laundering. For Mick and Kathy, it was perfect, now that they had Jill, they needed the family size accommodation that came with it.
So fast forward, Jill and I are elementary school age, and despite being so young our relationship was unshakeable, our loyalty to each other unbreakable. The rest of our friends all had siblings, we didn’t, so I guess that’s why we bonded as such. We had synergy, we were inseparable and shared everything, our thoughts were as one. Our friends were often bemused with our almost telepathic connection. One thing we both lacked was the ability or the maturity to pick up on the events that were unfolding around us, the events on that day that were to devastate our lives.
We had spent the whole day out, down by the river, in the woods and on the fields, it was a glorious summer’s day. By six o’clock most of our friends had left, heading towards the far end of the woods to the path that led up to the main road and towards their homes.
Me and Jill headed over to Wildgoose Heys. We made our way through the long grass, the grass yellowed to a rich golden colour at this time of year by the heat of the sun, the ground it grew in was sandy and didn’t retain enough moisture to keep it lush and green.
When we were far enough in, we stopped, flattened down the grass and lay there until the sun went down. Sometimes we talked, other times we just lay there listening to the bird song.
What we didn’t know at the time, this was to be our last visit to Wildgoose Heys together.
We set off back across the fields. As we approached the pub the sound of men loudly talking, arguing, laughing and shouting all mixed with the sound of vehicles on the busy main road, bringing us back to reality.
We made our way around to the side gate that opened onto the stairs that led up to the owner’s accommodation above the pub, and we said our goodbyes.
Jill pushed the gate, immediately it was slammed closed in her face. On the other side of the gate there was snarling, then several thuds on the gate followed by some aggressive barking.
‘Bronson, cool it!’ Jill’s Dad appeared at the door at the top of the stairs. He made his way down. The gate flung open, the sight of a six-foot five rock of a man holding an eighty-eight-pound German Shepherd dog made me glad that I was a friend and not foe.
‘Are you coming in Joe?’ He asks.
‘I need to go home; I’ll be in trouble if I stay out any later’ I said despondently. Mick lets go of Bronson to hold the gate open for Jill to enter. Almost immediately Bronson was on me, his two front paws resting on either shoulder. The force made me stumble back a few steps.
‘If you’re dancing, he’s asking! C’mon Bronson it’s not supper time yet’ quipped Mick, saving me from being licked to death.
Mick ordered Bronson in, Bronson ran back up the stairs, Jill turned and waved, she looked sad. Knowing what I know now, did she have a premonition?
‘Night Joe.’
‘Night Mr B, night Jill.’
The gate shut behind them, the heavy-duty bolt ground metal on metal cumulating in a deep thud as it locked. I was to see Jill and her father one more time that night and when I did, it was for the last time.
I crossed over the main road and made my way down the side street to my house.
As I approached the house, I could see my father sat in the bay window, he caught sight of me and made his way to the front door. The door swung open.
‘Get in.’
I knew that tone in his voice, and, I knew what was coming next.
He shut the front door behind us, then grabbed me before pushing me to the floor. I couldn’t make it back to the front door, he was blocking it, so I stood up and made a dash for the stairs. I probably made it up the first four steps before I felt a tug on my ankle.
Then came my first mistake, I kicked out, which caught my father square in the face. I made it to the top of the stairs and just into my bedroom when the first blow landed on the back of my head. The force of the blow made me see stars, the second blow hit my left cheek and caught the bridge of my nose. Almost instantaneously blood started to pour from my nose, I didn’t have time to wipe it before a series of blows left me unconscious.’
I lean back in my chair, tip my head back and stare at the ceiling.
‘I was only a child.’ I repeat it as the realisation sinks in of just how young and how brutal, the violence was. This is the first time I’ve ever spoken about it. The beatings had become so routine and commonplace for me and my Mum that I’d grown to accept it as normal, but now I am verbalising it and I have permitted myself to accept that it wasn’t normal, now the true horror is overwhelming me.
Two hands come from across the table, Ana holds my left hand, Luciana my right, although because I am so immersed in my memories, I don’t feel their touch.
After a few minutes I regain composure and carry on telling them about that night.
‘The sound of shouting brought me back to consciousness, my father had turned on my mother. That night he unleashed one of the most brutal, callous, sadistic, and savage episodes in his reign of terror. I tried to get up off the floor. My face had stuck to the carpet with congealed blood, as I pulled myself up, there was a surge from my stomach and I vomited.
I stumbled to the bathroom and started to clean myself up. Whilst in there I heard a knock on the front door.
I tentatively went to the top of the stairs, I heard my father shouting ‘I’m going to kill him’ and my mother screaming ‘no’ repeatedly, as she tried to drag him back. My father opened the door and left. My mother was lay on the floor in the hall sobbing. I rushed down the stairs and stroked her tear-soaked hair off her face. She just lay there, physically beaten and too emotionally damaged to move an inch. I ran out of the house, under the amber street lights I could see my father and three other men halfway up the street. I followed them to Jill’s pub. My father went in through the front door, the three others made their way around to the side gate. I hid in the orchard at the side of the pub, from here I could see the front, back and one side of the building.
It had only been about five minutes when the door opened and my father appeared at the top the stairs with Mick, as they descended towards the side gate it suddenly dawned on me, they weren’t picking Mick up, it was Mick they had come for. I cast my mind back ten minutes to when I was at the top of the stairs, hearing my father say ‘I’m going to kill him.’ Surely that was a turn of phrase, they weren’t really going to kill him, were they?
I felt physically sick again, this time with worry, even more so as Jill appeared in the open doorway at the top of the stairs in her pyjamas and shouted ‘Dad, where are you going?’ When he didn’t turn, she shouted again, louder this time.
Mick turned, made his way back up the stairs, kissed her forehead before gently pushing her back into the property and closing the door behind him.
As he descended the stairs again, I wanted to shout a warning, I wanted to run over and get between them, I wanted everything to be okay. What I wanted, just wasn’t going to happen, fear had gripped me.
As Mick opened the gate and stepped out int
o the car park, they set about him like a pack of animals. The brutality and savagery were beyond my comprehension, I closed my eyes, but the images were still there, I forced a finger into each ear to block out the sound, but I could still hear it.
After a while it stopped, I removed my fingers from my ears and opened my eyes, just as the four of them were lifting Mick’s lifeless body over the back fence. I watched as one by one they climbed over the fence to the other side, I gave it a moment before making my way over to where they had just been. I pulled myself up and peered over the top of the fence. I watched as the four silhouetted men hauled Mick through the fields and down the hill towards Wildgoose Heys and the path into the woods.
I ran home, as fast as my legs would carry me. When I got back, the house was locked up. I sat on the back-door step. I sat there rocking, sobbing and traumatised. After a while I found the strength to get up and walk back to the pub. As I waited to cross the main road, I saw there was a car at the side gate with the back doors open. A man came down the stairs carrying a sleeping Jill, her mother was close behind. He put Jill on the back seat and closed the door, her mother went around to the other side and got in.
The car drove off and that was the last time I ever saw Jill or her Mum... or her Dad.
It was also the night my Mum left when she realised that the violence was getting so bad that one day Dad would kill her. That night I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle and that was that - our whole world had imploded.
As for going back, those events had impacted our lives to such an extent that I cannot just simply speak to Jill on the phone, or type an email, but it is the sole reason I need to return home.’
Chapter 7
Wednesday
We are all up early as both Ana and Luciana are at work today.
As it is our last day together, I decide to join Ana on the commute over to Brooklyn. I plan to spend some time catching up with some old friends that I made when I first arrived in the states, then to meet Ana for lunch.
On arrival, we make our way straight to the coffee shop, our coffee shop. The time melts away.
As we’re shown to a table, I have a flashback to the very first time I saw Ana.
I’m sitting on the high stools by the window, working my way through a large portion of Eggs Benedict when she walked in off the street. I glance up just as a member of staff is greeting her and exchanging pleasantries, I vividly remember the smile Ana maintained throughout their brief conversation. I thought to myself if anyone is smiling at anyone in New York at this time of the morning, they must be on drink or drugs, or both. I guess I was a little judgemental back in those days. I look her up and down, she is classy, she looks classy, she speaks classy. Her demeanour is relaxed, she is polite, friendly, and intelligent. This beautiful Latin American woman with her long black hair, big brown eyes, stood there all tall and confident, everything about her fuelled my interest.
A kick on the shin broke my reverie. ‘Hello! Planet Earth to Joe’
‘I’m sorry, I was just thinking back to the first time I saw you’
‘That explains the look on your face then!’
‘What look?’
‘Desire!’
As usual, she was right.
We finish breakfast and I walk Ana down to the theatre. We say our goodbyes at the front door and I make my way down to the waterfront, just a two-minute walk away.
I climb up and sit on the low railings at the river edge, gazing out on the view that used to greet me every morning. The East River, the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, Lower Manhattan, the twin towers of The World Trade Centre; the view that captivated me from the very first time I saw it and that has stayed with me ever since.
I’m lost in my own world, the expanse of the river providing some welcome space both physically and mentally.
I turn and look up at my old apartment, I wonder who is living there now and what their life is like. I wonder if they are in awe of their surroundings as I was, or is it just a trendy address in a trendy neighbourhood to them?
I am about to get the answer, as I am looking back, my attention turns to a young couple leaving the apartment block. They looked exasperated with each other, reminiscent of Mia and me just over a year ago.
I turn back to face the river again, I have a little chuckle to myself, then I say, out loud, ‘what a difference a year makes.’ As I say it, I hear a voice from over my other shoulder.
‘Does it... is everything okay?’
Shocked, I look over my shoulder to find a NYPD cop stood there. He repeats, ‘everything okay Sir?’
Now, I’m not sure if he had been called or if he was passing, but it soon became apparent that he thought I was about to throw myself into the depths of the East River. After assurances that all is well, I climb back down off the railings and set off walking towards the Brooklyn Bridge. From there I only have a short walk into Brooklyn Heights for a quick catch up with my old friends, before heading back to meet Ana.
I meet her outside the pizzeria over on Old Fulton Street as arranged, she is already in the queue that stretches way back along the street. The wait time is forty minutes and that is just to get in, so we abandon it and instead, we pick up a take out from the local deli as Ana only has an hour for lunch.
We make our way back to the waterfront and towards a bench set just a few feet away from the railings where I had been sat earlier.
We kiss like teenagers on a first date and in the first flush of passion, then we hold each other in a tight embrace. I have to remind both myself and Ana, that I’m only going away for four days.
All too soon our time is up and I walk her back to work. At the front door we kiss goodbye.
Ana has tears in her eyes, not only tears but a pleading look as well.
‘Please don’t go, Joe, I’ve got a really bad feeling, a really bad feeling that something evil is waiting for you,’ she says as she wipes the tears from her eyes.
But I do go and as I walk away, I look back to see Ana still at the door distraught that she hadn’t managed to talk me out of going. I stop dead in my tracks I am so desperate to stay. My loyalty should be here, to Ana, not to anything or anyone from my past.
The reality is that I have no choice, I must go home. If I don’t resolve this now then the ghosts will continue to haunt me, and that brings the possibility of destroying everything I have here.
I turn away and start my walk again. Downhearted and despondent, I try to reassure myself that sometimes you need to do the wrong thing to do the right thing.
It was four o’clock before I got back to the apartment, just enough time to get a drink and pick up my bags. I sit at the window looking out onto the crossroads waiting for my taxi to arrive.
It is all very real now. It was only a few days ago when that email landed in my inbox and in those few days, I must have been through every single human emotion. Joy-sadness, anger-fear, trust-distrust, surprise-anticipation. The shock of the email, the surprise of Ana and myself finally getting together, the initial passion followed by the confusion of her leaving, the uncertainty of Luciana’s actions, that euphoric intimate morning when Ana returned, the raw emotion and upset from bringing up my past, and today, the goodbye.
A car horn sounds from the street below, it is my taxi. I open the sash window lean out and wave an acknowledgement to the driver. Closing the window, I take one last look around, reminding myself that I’ll only be away for four days.
I pick up my suitcase. Attached to the handle is one half of a “you complete me” jigsaw keyring, I’m feeling guilty, I’ve been so wrapped up in everything that I haven’t done anything for Ana. As I load the suitcase into the trunk of the taxi, I remove the keyring and put it in my pocket.
I’ve taken Ana’s advice that she gave me on Monday about learning Brazilian Portuguese, her heritage is important to her and therefore important to me. I’ve only learnt 12 phrases up to now, one was perfect for a time as this, você me completa - you make me feel comp
lete. I take the keyring back out of my pocket and smile to myself as I hold it in my hand.
The Taxi takes the ramp up onto the freeway leaving behind the streets of the Ironbound Section. This means that I am only minutes away from the airport now and soon my phone will have to be turned off; quickly I type você me completa into a text message and send it to Ana.
I receive Ana’s reply as I arrive at the Terminal, Você é o mundo para mim.
At long last I am on-board and the flight is on time, at least it was when we left the gate and started taxiing. It seems to be taking forever to get to our runway, stopping and starting as we cross other taxiways and another runway.
Then the announcement from the Captain that we have all been waiting for, ‘Cabin Crew: prepare for take-off.’ Finally, with engines at full throttle we’re up and off, I look out affectionately at the Manhattan skyline as we bank back round to the north. Two and a half hours later we’ve cleared Nova Scotia and now passing over Newfoundland, the last piece of land we’ll see for the next four hours until we reach the Irish coast.
With the meals and the inflight entertainment, the hours pass quickly. The Captain has just announced that we are now over Dublin, then we will be making our way straight across to the Wirral peninsula, turning slightly to approach Manchester Airport from the south-west, there are clear skies, light winds in Manchester and it is currently a cool 50 degrees Fahrenheit. There is a bonus though, we will be landing ten minutes early.
I relish the view of open countryside on the final approach to Manchester, I’ve forgotten just how green and pleasant my home country is. I try to get my bearings, as the clunk of the undercarriage lowering and locking into position indicates we’re nearly down, then in quick succession, we pass over Pickmere Lake and Tatton Park.
In no time we’re down, I’ve collected my suitcase and now I’m on my way to the airport train station. A ten-minute wait, then ten-minutes on the train, a ten-minute walk to the hotel from the station and I am back
The Truth We Chase Page 5
