Bad Blood

by Kelleher, Casey

  Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Harry’s breathing was beginning to stabilise. Sitting up seemed to help make him feel less restricted now as he took long shallow breaths deep into his lungs.

  Then the wheezing was back, this time with a vengeance. Furiously coughing once again Harry held his hand up over his mouth as he made his way to his en suite.

  The red spray of blood shot through his hands, splattering the white marble tiles on the bathroom floor.

  It was getting worse and Harry was scared.

  During his life, he’d come up against some of the hardest criminals, and the toughest of fighters. He’d buried his wife. He’d lied about it, kept the truth from his own children. All of this and yet he had never imagined in all his days that it would be something like cancer that would bring him to his knees.

  When his doctor had confirmed the diagnosis, Harry hadn’t batted an eyelid initially. The bloke had clearly got his information wrong. Harry couldn’t have cancer. He was fitter than most men twenty years younger than him.

  But a second doctor had confirmed it. He’d advised him on the options that were available to keep him more comfortable, even offered his condolences.

  Harry had lung cancer, and it was terminal.

  He’d been hiding it for weeks. Refusing to have any kind of chemo. Harry was a firm believer of when your time was up, it was up. There was no use in trying to play God and delay things. Besides, the chemo would have only delayed the inevitable, and lessened his quality of life during his final days.

  Harry was a fighter.

  He would fight this to the end, no matter what.

  He hadn’t even told Raymond yet. He’d have to soon, though; he wouldn’t have a choice.

  Leaning over the toilet, Harry spat out another mouthful of blood. Seeing the dark clots clinging to the porcelain bowl, Harry dropped to his knees crippled with fear.

  It was taking all his strength not to give in to his fears and cry, but he was so scared. He was getting worse and rapidly.

  ‘Dad?’

  Shit, Harry could hear Evie tapping on his bedroom door. He must have woken her. Hearing her feet tread through the room as she made her way to the en suite, Harry pushed the door closed with his foot.

  ‘Don’t come in, Evie,’ Harry said, shielding his daughter from the horror of his illness. There was no way he could let Evie see him like this. It wasn’t fair to put such worry on the girl. As always, he just wanted to protect her, protect them all. ‘I’ve eaten something dodgy, darling, give me a few minutes, yeah?’

  Evie waited.

  Wiping his mouth Harry pulled his robe from the back of the door before splashing some water on his face. He took a slow deep breath.

  ‘Got a right dicky stomach I have.’ Stepping out into the room he could see that Evie was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at her mum’s photo just as he had earlier. Harry smiled. He wondered if Evie could see the startling resemblance, just like he could. How could she not? Evie was the spitting image of Evelyn. She had the same long dark hair and the same piercing blue eyes. It must have been like looking in a mirror for her.

  ‘Don’t know what the hell I’ve eaten. I didn’t wake you, did I?’ Clutching his stomach, Harry hoped the girl believed him.

  ‘No, not at all, Dad. I couldn’t sleep. Think I had too much caffeine today,’ Evie lied. She had been listening to her dad coughing for the past twenty minutes, but she didn’t want him to think that she had woken up because of him. Evie could see by her dad’s solemn expression that there was something wrong. He was doing that thing he always did: plastering a fake smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Evie could spot it a mile off. She was about to ask him, when they both turned to the window on hearing a car come thrashing down the driveway, before screeching to a halt outside.

  ‘Who the hell is that?’ Harry Woods stomped over to the window and peeped through the wooden slats just in time to see Christopher open his car door and impatiently beep his horn.

  ‘What the fuck?’

  Pulling open one end of the shutter blinds, Harry opened the window wide and leant out. ‘Christopher, what the fuck are you playing at? It’s the middle of the bleeding night.’

  Harry was fuming with his son. The boy must be out of his mind behaving like this. He and Evie could have been in bed asleep. Should have been in bed asleep. The boy was a fucking nightmare. ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘No, Dad, come down,’ Christopher ushered. ‘Come on, I’ve got something to show you. It’s important.’

  Glancing over to the clock on the desk, Harry looked perplexed. ‘What? What could be so bloody important that I need to see it at this time of night?’ Harry paused, eyeing his son suspiciously.

  The boy looked on edge, like he’d taken something again. Harry knew that Christopher was becoming more and more out of control but he didn’t know how the fuck he was going to get the boy to rein it in. Nathan was ready to all but wash his hands of his brother, and Raymond had told Harry that he needed to be firmer with the boy. But Harry knew that it was his fault Christopher had turned out the way he did. He’d always trodden on eggshells with Christopher, unwilling to talk about that day all those years ago.

  Maybe Harry broaching the subject would only dredge up the unwanted past? Who knew?

  It didn’t help that Christopher’s constant struggle with drugs was proving to be a battle that he wasn’t winning. Then, he guessed that was just Christopher’s way of coping. He shouldn’t be so hard on the boy. It wasn’t his fault. Harry should have done better by him.

  ‘You need to go to bed, Christopher, we all do.’ Shouting down, Harry didn’t get a chance to finish.

  ‘No, Dad, you need to come down. Raymond’s on his way too. Come on.’ Christopher nodded, trying to convince his father, and Harry could see by the pure craziness in the boy’s eyes that once again, Christopher was definitely off his fucking face.

  ‘Why the fuck is Raymond on his way?’ If Christopher was dragging him outside for something stupid at this time of night Harry was going to clump the boy one.

  ‘Come out and see for yourself.’ Christopher stood up against the bodywork of his car now. Crossing his arms over his chest, he wasn’t going to give up.

  ‘Evie love, go and put the kettle on, will you?’ Harry sighed as he tied the belt of his robe around him and shoved his feet into his slippers. ‘Whatever it is that your brother is up to now, I have a feeling that I’m in for a long bloody night.’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ‘Hope he didn’t wake you ’en all?’ Walking out onto the driveway just as Raymond pulled up, Harry shook his head apologetically and raised his eyes to where Christopher was stood.

  Raymond looked just as perplexed as he felt. Harry had no idea what the hell was going on.

  Opening the boot, Christopher stepped back.

  Stretching out his arms dramatically, he staggered as he presented his father and Raymond with the contents of the boot.

  ‘Fuck me.’ Peering into the boot, Raymond couldn’t help but laugh.

  Curled up in a ball, with his hands bound together tightly with rope, and a thick band of black gaffer tape wrapped around his mouth, was the elusive Terry Stranks.

  ‘Here, the slippery fucker’s only got the imprint of a fucking size eleven boot on his forehead. What the fuck have you done to him?’ Shaking his head in wonderment, Harry could say what he liked about Christopher; as much of a loose cannon as he could be, the boy never did things by halves. Delivering Terry to them in this state had Christopher’s spectacular style stamped all over it.

  Literally.

  ‘Well, I got him here, didn’t I? If you wanted a special fucking delivery then maybe you should have rung Parcelforce.’ Christopher felt smug.

  The entire police force and half his dad and Raymond’s cronies had been out lo
oking for this waster, yet he had been the one to finally reel the bastard in. After a week of Nathan giving him a wide birth, and his dad looking down his nose at him too, Christopher was convinced that now he’d served up Terry to them, he’d more than redeemed himself.

  ‘Where did you find him?’ Raymond asked.

  ‘He was at Destiny’s. I left my wallet there . . . Caught him trying to get in the side window. Don’t worry, no-one saw us.’

  ‘He looks a right fucking mess,’ Harry said as he took in the sight of Terry’s scrawny frame. It wasn’t just the damage Christopher had done in getting him here either. Terry looked like a tramp. He was filthy dirty and he’d lost a lot of weight. He looked awful, but then being trussed up like a caged chicken in the back of Christopher’s motor could do that to a man, Harry figured. ‘You sure no-one clocked you?’ he asked, pleased that Terry realised the severity of the situation when his eyes finally flickered open. Conscious once more, Terry stared at the three faces peering down at him, his eyes wide with fear.

  ‘Yeah. I’m sure. There was a light on downstairs though, so maybe Kelly heard this fucker breaking the window. He’d barely made it inside when I got hold of him. No-one was around when I shoved him in the boot.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, did you call him too?’ Harry asked as Nathan’s Range Rover pulled into the driveway.

  ‘Well, yeah, I thought you’d need some backup. You know, thought we were going to sort him out.’

  Christopher turned and clocked his brother as he jumped out of his motor. The scowl on his face spoke volumes. He couldn’t resist. ‘Managed to tear yourself away from your bird then?’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Nathan bit his lip. He and Cassie had almost been asleep for the second time tonight when Christopher had called, and Nathan had been tempted to leave the call to ring off onto his voicemail, especially seeing as Christopher had already rudely interrupted their evening only a couple of hours ago. He’d answered, purely for the fact that he couldn’t guarantee that Christopher wouldn’t take it upon himself to come back for another visit if he didn’t. Now he’d been dragged out of bed, and Cassie had the right hump. She was right too: tonight should have been about them. But once again Christopher had sabotaged his plans.

  ‘This had better be fucking good, Christopher, ’cause I really am on the fucking edge with you . . .’ Stepping nearer, Nathan could smell the strong smell of rum; Christopher was paralytic.

  ‘Have you been driving in this state?’ Nathan turned his nose up, then without waiting for his brother’s answer he turned to his dad angrily. ‘Why do you let him get away with this shit, Dad? Look at the state of him, he’s a fucking lunatic.’

  Sensing the tension between the boys and Harry, Raymond quickly butted in. ‘Look who your brother rocked up here with. Caught him trying to break into the bar. Looks like Christopher’s come up trumps for us . . .’

  Christopher grinned at Nathan, ignoring his brother’s narky tone. He wasn’t expecting his brother to pat him on the back, or give him any well earned praise, but he had thought that Nathan would have at least looked a little bit impressed.

  Instead, he just looked thoroughly pissed off. Probably because he’d just been dragged away from his precious girlfriend.

  ‘What’s it got to do with me?’ Seething now, Nathan had already told his dad that he wanted out of the family business, and looking at the state of Terry all trussed up in the back of Christopher’s motor, this was definitely business that Nathan did not want to get involved in.

  ‘Well, I thought you’d want to help out. No-one knows he’s here,’ Christopher said, smugly. ‘So we can sort this mug out and no-one will be any the wiser.’

  Hearing Terry’s muffled pleas from behind the thick tape that had been stuck firmly over his mouth, Christopher shook his head at the bloke. ‘What’s the matter, Terry? You need a piss or something?’ he mocked nastily. ‘If you shit in my motor I’m going to make you fucking eat it.’

  Turning back to his dad he added, ‘Fuck me, he don’t give up, does he? What shall we do with him?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Christopher, you’ve done enough. Leave him with me, yeah.’ Harry was insistent. Nathan was right. Christopher reeked of alcohol, and unable to stand up properly without swaying on the spot, he was so far gone that Harry just wanted him out of the way. ‘Why don’t you go and get your head down, yeah? You’ve done enough . . .’

  Christopher stared at his father, catching the familiar sharp tone that he often used with him. So familiar in fact, that Christopher listened out for it.

  His dad always treated him like he was some kind of half-witted cunt. Like he didn’t have the brains to carry anything through without step by step instructions. Even now. Christopher could have presented Terry to his father with a fucking pink bow wrapped around him and still he wouldn’t be impressed.

  ‘Okay. If that’s the way you want it.’ Trying to keep his cool, Christopher turned to his brother. ‘The windows are all smashed in at the bar. Do you want me to come and give you a hand sorting it out?’

  ‘No, leave it. I’ll sort it myself.’ Nathan couldn’t even look him in the eye. The fumes that were coming from his breath were so strong, Nathan was surprised that Christopher was still standing. His eyes were fucked from the coke.

  ‘Right.’ Christopher shrugged. He watched as his dad and Nathan both shared a look. Then his temper kicked in. They thought he was a first class cunt; he could see it in their eyes. ‘What was that look for?’ he asked, incensed.

  ‘You did good, Christopher. But we’ll sort it now. Go on, get to bed, mate.’ Raymond pacified. Christopher was so off his face on drugs that he didn’t even realise how erratic he was being. He was talking fast and his eyes were flickering quickly as he fidgeted. He was a fucking state. Harry was right: they were better off dealing with Terry without him. He knew what he would be capable of in this state. Christopher had done good up until now; him bringing Terry here like this worked out in their favour. No-one knew he was here. Not the police, not Kelly, no-one.

  Christopher in his drug induced condition would be no use to anyone, and none of them wanted to give him the opportunity to fuck things up.

  ‘But I want to help . . .’ Stung by the rejection, he could see that they were all looking down their noses at him. Like he was nothing but an embarrassment to them all.

  ‘I said we’ll sort it,’ Harry said. His words final.

  Christopher stood in silence and stared at his father. He was being dismissed.

  ‘You make me fucking laugh.’ Christopher sneered at his dad now. ‘Looking down your nose at me. You all do. I know what you think. You think I’m a fuck-up. Well, I am, aren’t I, Dad? Why don’t you tell them why, eh?’

  ‘Christopher! That’s enough. You’re off your head. Watch your fucking mouth,’ Raymond warned the boy now. Christopher was so inebriated with the drink and the drugs that he clearly didn’t realise what he was saying. Raymond could tell by the look on Harry’s face that if Christopher dared to open his mouth tonight and start spouting shit about the past, Harry wouldn’t think twice about lamping him one. Or worse.

  ‘Ahh that’s right. Don’t tell anyone. Yeah, yeah . . . I remember. Mum’s the word . . .’ Christopher was almost falling over now, as he staggered over to the boot of his car. ‘I’ll fuck off then, shall I? I’m clearly not needed.’ Gritting his teeth, Christopher was sick and tired of being treated like a mug. He was good enough to serve the bloke up, but not good enough to be trusted to do anything else. ‘Get this fucker out of my motor then, the dirty bastard smells like he’s just shat his pants.’

  Raymond could see that Christopher was goading for a row, and he just wanted Christopher out of here.

  He could also see by the look on Nathan’s face that Nathan knew Christopher had been referring to something, and Raymond really didn’t want this all coming out now. Not tonight. C
ertainly not like this.

  Grabbing Terry roughly by the arm, Raymond yanked him out of the boot. Restricted by the ropes bound around his hands, Terry lost his balance, falling forwards onto the driveway.

  Getting in his car, Christopher slammed the Audi R8 into reverse, almost hitting one of the oak beams of the carport, before tearing out of the drive like a man possessed.

  ‘What the fuck was that all about?’ Nathan asked warily. Drunk or not, Christopher seemed pretty convinced that he had something on their dad. And Raymond had acted way too defensively when he’d tried to shut him up.

  Seeing Raymond and his dad exchange looks, Nathan couldn’t be arsed to find out. Whatever his brother had done now, he didn’t care.

  ‘Fuck knows.’ Raymond shrugged, then turning to Harry he added, ‘Touchy fucker, that son of yours. Must get it from you, Harry.’

  Harry smiled. Inside he was fuming.

  He had seen by the look on Christopher’s face that he had been way too close to talking. Seven years Harry had tried to keep the past buried, and Christopher, after another drug and booze riddled night, had almost given it all up. The boy couldn’t be trusted. Not in the state he was in. He had always acted like the world owed him something and Harry could see that he was getting worse.

  It didn’t help that he was off his nut again too.

  As much as both his boys had tried to hide Christopher’s addiction, Harry wasn’t a fool. Only a moron would get inside the ring coked out of his brain and fight. The boy was out of control.

  ‘Take him round to the barn, Raymond,’ Harry instructed.

  ‘Gladly.’ Raymond nodded. He hated Terry with a passion, and tying up this loose end would be a pleasure. Harry should have done away with the bloke ages ago. It would have saved them a world of aggro if he had.

  ‘Can you give him a hand, Nathan? I’m going to get some clothes on.’

  Nathan nodded. He was here now, so he may as well stick around. Cassie had probably gone back to sleep now anyway and, knowing how knackered she’d been, he didn’t want to disturb her again tonight.