The Storm
R. J. Prescott
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One- Kieran
Chapter Two- Marie
Chapter Three- Kieran
Chapter Four- Marie
Chapter Five- Kieran
Chapter Six- Marie
Chapter Seven- Kieran
Chapter Eight- Marie
Chapter Nine- Kieran
Chapter Ten- Marie
Chapter Eleven- Kieran
Chapter Twelve- Marie
Chapter Thirteen- Kieran
Chapter Fourteen- Marie
Chapter Fifteen- Kieran
Chapter Sixteen- Marie
Chapter Seventeen- Kieran
Chapter Eighteen- Marie
Chapter Nineteen- Kieran
Chapter Twenty- Marie
Chapter Twenty-One- Kieran
Chapter Twenty-Two- Marie
Chapter Twenty-Three- Kieran
Chapter Twenty-Four- Marie
Chapter Twenty-Five- Kieran
Chapter Twenty-Six- Marie
Chapter Twenty-Seven- Kieran
Chapter Twenty-Eight- Marie
Chapter Twenty-Nine- Kieran
Chapter Thirty- Alastair
Chapter Thirty-One- Marie
Chapter Thirty-Two- Kieran
Epilogue
Other Books by R.J. Prescott
Acknowledgements
The Storm
By R.J. Prescott
Copyright © 2017 R.J. Prescott
All rights reserved.
First Published 2017 by R.J. Prescott
The right of R.J. Prescott to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted to her in accordance with Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
ISBN 978-0-9931838-6-7
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organisations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Interior Formatting by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs
Editing by Hot Tree Editing
Cover Design by Louisa Maggio of L.M. Cover Creations
Maireann lágo ruaig ach maireann an grágo huaigh.
A day lasts until it is chased away, but love lasts until the grave.
Prologue
Kieran Doherty- Thirteen Years Earlier
“It’s time, Kieran,” Father Pat said gently from Da’s bedroom door. He’d asked me to stay outside for a few minutes, but I wasn’t feckin’ stupid. He was there to read Da his last rites. I knew I should hurry. There wasn’t long left now, but I couldn’t get my stupid legs to move. Because this was it. The minute that I got up and walked through the door, I was saying goodbye. And I wasn’t ready. I was nowhere near ready. Father Pat sighed deeply and came to sit next to me.
“You know it’s not forever, son. You’ll see your dad again someday in Heaven,” he said, as though that would be of any comfort.
“Yeah, well, it feels like forever,” I replied, kicking the toe of my shoe against the floor.
“As long as you remember him, he’s not really gone.”
“Sorry, Father, but that’s just shite. He’s a good man and he never did anything wrong, so how come God punishes us by picking him. It’s not feckin’ fair.” I sniffed to stop the tears from falling. Rage consumed me. I wanted to scream at the world and everyone in it.
“It’s not fair, Kieran. All you feel now is hurt and pain, and that’s not going to go away any time soon. But I have a theory, that God handpicks his angels. Some of them are women and children, and some of them are loudmouthed, surly Irish men. But all of the angels are picked because they are the very best of us. Your dad is strong, brave, and kind, and he loves you and your ma something fierce. God isn’t taking him from this earth so he can snuff out that light. He’s putting it in Heaven so it will shine eternal. The way you’re feeling right now will last a long time, but it won’t last forever. One day something, or someone, will make the sun come out, and you’ll smile again. I promise.”
I didn’t believe him; I didn’t think I’d ever laugh again. I felt like I was in a deep dark hole I’d never be able to climb out of. Me mates would still be able to see me, but I wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same, and without Da, nothing would be again.
“Come now. Come and say your goodbyes. He’s waiting for you.” I stood up slowly, my steps sluggish. I swallowed back the tears as I walked in to see my old man laid out in bed. The gentle giant who was always hoisting me up on his shoulders looked so small and fragile now. He smiled as he saw me, the twinkle in his eye showing me the man I knew so well. As frail as he was, his chest didn’t sound as wheezy as it did of late. It was a kind of cruel false hope that he seemed better just before the end.
“Hello, son,” he said, smiling.
“Hey, Da,” I replied with a sniff.
“Cheer up, Kier. It’s not the end of the world,” he said. He was joking. I knew he was joking, but it was the end of the world for me. He could see the minute that I lost it, and he held out his arms just as I dove into them.
“I’m so sorry,” I said through my sobs. “For everything I ever did bad. For the times I didn’t make you proud. I don’t want you to leave.”
“There’s nothing to say sorry for. I’ve always been proud of you, little man. You are so much like your ma. You just listen to her and do what she says, and you’ll be fine,” he said.
“I promise, Da” I answered, my sobs subsiding. He coughed and his whole body was racked with it. As he caught his breath, we just stayed still. I didn’t want to make him talk because I knew it hurt him, and right then I was content to lay there and get a hug from my old man.
My last hug.
“Ah, there’s my girl,” he said to Ma, who was leaning against the doorframe watching us. “Now a woman as beautiful as you, darlin’, should never look so sad. Come over here and give me some lovin’, and I’ll put a smile back on your face.” I kissed Da on the cheek, then climbed off the bed to make room for her.
“Con is downstairs waiting for you, love,” she told me as she lay down. I nodded, not trusting myself not to cry again, and wiped my now runny nose along my sleeve.
“I love you, Kieran,” he said gently.
“Love you too, Da.” Then I left to give Ma some time with him.
“You know, Kathleen, you are just as beautiful now as you were the day I met you. And not a minute has passed since that I haven’t counted my blessings for finding you,” I heard him say gently to Ma. The strength in his voice was gone, and he sounded almost wistful.
“And you are just as charming now as you were then, Jack Doherty,” she replied.
“I’m so tired, love,” Da said and coughed slightly before settling. “How ‘bout singing me something?”
Her voice was so beautiful as she softly sang his favourite U2 song. When she got to the end, she broke down and sobbed harder than I’d ever heard her cry before. I knew then that he’d passed. I slid down the wall to the floor and, burying my head in my knees, I let my own tears run free. Eventually, Father Pat came in with Mary, my friend Tommy’s Ma. She wrapped me in her big arms and hugged me so hard I was havin’ trouble breathing. I didn’t tell her though, ’cause I needed that hug so bad. But long after my tears had d
ried, I could still hear Ma’s.
Da told me once what fallin’ in love was like. “Son,” he said, “true love ain’t the passenger train that pulls up at the station so that you can board when it’s time. It’s the freight train that ploughs into you when you least expect it. That’s how it was for me at any rate. There’s just no getting over something like that, and if you find someone who makes you feel that way, you hold onto her forever.”
I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Da was always saying soppy shite about Ma. Now watching Ma’s suffering, I knew what he meant. She would bounce back and take care of me, because she was the strongest person I knew, but she’d never be the same again. Finding your soul mate might be great, but losing them was like watching a person get torn in half. If Father Pat was right and this shite feeling ever got better, I was avoiding trains at all costs. ’Cause there was no fucking way I was ever going through this again.
Chapter One
Kieran
The Royal Oak pub in Camden Town, London was always busy, but that Friday night it was absolutely packed. St Paddy’s Day was tomorrow, and the local Irish band Attree’s Ashes was playing over the weekend. Taking a long, hard drink of me pint, I joined the rest of the pub in singing “Wild Rover” at the top of my lungs. I was relaxed, happy, and ready for a good weekend of celebrating.
Me and the boys would take it easy tonight. We were all off to church tomorrow at ten o’clock, and it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to be hungover. I’d say we were going to ask for forgiveness for all the sins we’d likely commit when we were too drunk to remember our own names, but Father Pat, our local priest, would be joining us in the pub later in the day. He and my trainer, Danny, were partial to a good single malt whiskey, so it was doubtful that he’d remember any of my sins any better than I would. Besides, St Paddy’s Day was a holy day, and I was pretty sure God forgave all manner of sins on a holy day.
After the last strains of the song had rung out, I made my way back to our table where my best mate, Con, had a round of drinks waiting.
“Ah see, that’s why you’re me best mate. You know what I need, even before I do,” I said, rubbing my hands together in anticipation of my icy-cold pint of Guinness. He snorted in amusement.
“Looks like I got them just in time too,” he said, nodding towards the bar. The queue to get a drink was probably five people deep now the band was taking a break.
“Where’s Em?” I asked, referring to Con’s wife. We were a pretty tight-knit group, Em included, so I was surprised not to see her there.
“She and Nikki have gone to the movies. I’ve warned her what tomorrow’s going to be like, and she doesn’t want to be hungover.”
“Probably best. I could open a bottle of beer next to her and she’d probably get drunk just from the fumes,” I said, grinning. Em drunk was a sight to behold. She was the only person I knew who could projectile vomit after five drinks. It was one of the reasons I highly doubted that my buddy would be wasted tomorrow. To call Con protective when it came to his wife was a major understatement. He was getting better, but Em had her own reasons for not feeling comfortable drinking in public, so Con always made sure he was fairly sober. Nothing would ever happen to her with all of us around. Hell, she was like a little sister to us. But to Con, that girl was his whole world, and it wasn’t something he took for granted. I’d always said that I didn’t want that kind of love for myself, but I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a kind of longing while watching them both together.
“She’s bringing Nikki tomorrow, so she’s staying over at our place tonight. That way I won’t have to worry about Em coming home alone,” he explained.
“We still meeting at St Paul’s?”
“That’s the plan,” he replied. “Seamus O’Donnell’s is doing fried breakfast and a Guinness for five quid, so we’re heading there after.” Mass followed by a full day of drinking might seem odd to some people, but that was St Paddy’s Day for you.
“Hey, ladies, thanks for keeping my seat,” Tommy said, as he slid onto the stool next to me and stole a sip of my drink.
“I spat in that,” I told him.
“Fuck you did,” he replied, putting my glass down and eying it suspiciously. “Why would you say that anyway?” The little fucker had the gall to look hurt, like I was being mean.
“Because you can get your own drink, ya tight arse,” I said with a chuckle. “I don’t know why you’re so fussy about getting a bit of my saliva anyway. You’ve been sticking your tongue down anything with a vagina since we walked in here.”
“Can you blame me?” he asked, his eyes following the women filling the pub. He looked like a kid in a sweet shop. “It’s wall to wall women, and they all love a bit of bad boy Irish charm. There just ain’t enough of me to go around.”
I rolled my eyes at Con, but he just laughed. Tommy was a fucking force of nature when it came to woman. The kid was constantly in heat, and there was no shortage of girls lining up to quench his thirst. I didn’t like to make it easy for him though. Fucking with his head was pretty much my favourite hobby.
“All those women, yet you still come back to me,” I said.
“What the fuck are you talking about now?” he asked.
“Well, first you try to make me jealous with all those girls. Then you pull your stool up next to mine, which is pretty intimate, and now we’re sharing drinks. I mean, I’m flattered and all, but I’ve told you before that I just don’t feel the same,” I said, and rested my hand on his leg, which made him jump a mile.
“For the last fucking time, I’m not fucking gay!” he shouted at me. Con, by this stage, was doubled over in his seat with laughter.
“You know, I’d believe you, but I think you’re protesting too much. All the signs are there, Tom. It’s time you came out of the closet. We’re all friends here,” I replied.
“We’re not friends, and I’m not fucking gay,” he said, in case I hadn’t heard the first time. Standing up, he moved to the stool next to Con on the other side of the table.
“Don’t try it on with me. I ain’t gay either,” Con said, joining in.
“Fuck the pair of you,” Tommy said, swiping one of the pints Con had bought and taking a drink.
“Who’s gay now?” Liam said, putting his drink down before taking off his jacket and sitting down next to us.
I’d known Tommy and Liam near enough my whole life, but the two of them couldn’t have been more different. Tommy was maybe a few inches shorter than me, with shaggy brown hair that always looked like it needed cutting. He wasn’t stocky, but like most of the guys at the gym, he was ripped. Liam, on the other hand, was a tank. At six foot six inches, he probably only had about an inch on Con, but he had shoulders like an ox. The guy was huge. But unfortunately for Danny, he was a gentle giant. He liked to train and keep in shape, and he’d spar with either me or Con when we needed it, but he lacked the killer instinct that made Con unbeatable. When the rest of us were shooting our mouths off, Liam was the one thinking and taking it all in. Of us all, he was the voice of reason.
“Kier thinks that Tommy’s gay,” Con said, letting Liam know we were fucking with Tommy again.
“Yeah?” he replied, looking at Tommy. “I am too.”
I shit you not that you could hear a pin drop while we all tried to work out whether we’d heard him right.
“Well, looks like you’re not alone in the club, Tom,” I said, figuring that Liam was yanking our chain. I looked at Con, expecting to see a grin, but he just shook his head sternly at me, telling me that Liam was being serious.
“Actually, he’s not my type,” Liam said, taking a sip of his pint. He looked nervous and embarrassed, and then it hit me that he was telling the truth. I was absolutely floored.
“I knew it. I fucking knew it. It was bound to happen someday. There’s no way having this on display, half naked and sweaty, all these years didn’t turn someone. I’m just surprised it ain’t happened sooner,” Tommy said. Just to il
lustrate his point, he stood up, lifted his top and started rolling his arse and abs in some kind of weird mating dance. Fuck knows why it worked on chicks, ’cause it was making me feel kind of nauseous. It didn’t look like it was doing much more for Liam either.
“Put it away, Tommy,” Con finally told him.
“Are you serious?” I asked Liam. “Because if you’re messing with us, this is low. I don’t know whether to hug you or kick your arse.”
“I’d really appreciate it if you did neither,” he replied.
“Shit, man, you’ve seen all of our dicks,” Tommy said. It was apparently the wittiest response he could come up with.
“Yeah, so?” Liam said.
“Well, how do I know now that you ain’t thinking of my dick when you rub one out?” Tommy asked.
“If you’ve ever seen your dick, you’ll know why,” Liam answered.
“Are you implying I’ve got a small cock? Because there’s nothing wrong with this beast.” Tommy gestured towards his junk.
“It’s because you’ve got little baby hands,” I explained. “Makes it look bigger when you’re holding it than it really is.” He lifted his hands to check out their size, then gave me the finger when he realised I was playing him again.
“So, do we have to wear them rainbow hot pants and walk in parades and stuff with you now?” Tommy asked, ’cause apparently stupidity knew no bounds.
“Absolutely, and I think wearing ’em to the Paddy’s Day parade tomorrow would be a great way to start showing Liam our support,” Con answered, his face serious. A brief look of panic washed over Tommy’s face before his usual cocky smirk was back.
“Fuck it,” he said, finally. “As long as you promise you ain’t thinking about my beast when you’re beating the meat, I could fucking rock sparkly rainbow hot pants.”
“Since when did they become sparkly?” I asked, half choking on my beer.
“If we’re gonna do it, might as well go all the way,” he said with a shrug.
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