by Kerry Kaya
“Well, come on out with it. What’s this all about?” Once Jason had closed the office door behind him, Paul picked up his cigarette pack, took two cigarettes out, and passed one across to his son. Lighting up, he squinted through the curling smoke. “What have you done now?”
“I haven’t done anything.” Kieran laughed off the accusation.
“Thank fuck for that.” Relaxing, Paul smiled and studied his eldest boy. “Come on then, son, what’s on your mind?”
Hearing those words trip so easily off of Paul’s tongue, Kieran sighed and looked down at his feet. When he raised his head, he looked Paul in the eyes. He and Jonah looked so much alike that it amazed him how he had never questioned his parentage until now.
“Well?” Paul opened out his arms. “I’m a busy man; I haven’t got all day.”
Kieran chewed on his thumbnail. His nan was right; Paul was his father, no matter what. If he opened his mouth, confronted him, and told him he knew the truth, then nothing would ever be the same again. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Paul narrowed his eyes, studying his eldest son. If he hadn’t have known better, he’d have bet his last pound that something was troubling the boy. “You’ve not got something on your mind, have you?” He cocked his eyebrow. “Has someone been causing you hag?”
“Nah, I’m sweet, Dad.” Smoking his cigarette, Kieran dismissed his father’s words.
Paul shrugged, and relaxing into his seat, he smiled. “I want you and Jonah to work the door at the Fiddlers tonight. We’ve got one of those celebrity deejays coming in. Should pull in a big crowd. By all accounts, they have a big following.”
“Yeah, all right, Dad.” Stretching out his legs, Kieran made to stand up. “I’ll give Jaden a bell and get him on board.”
Paul nodded, and standing up, he moved around the desk and pulled his son into a bear hug. It was unexpected, and unbeknownst to him, exactly what Kieran had needed. “Are you sure that you’re all right?”
“Yeah, course I am.” Pulling away, Kieran smiled widely and left the office. He looked down at his watch. He still had a few hours to go before he needed to be at the Fiddlers. He’d go and see his Donna, he decided. A sliver of shame crept over him. Ever since he’d discovered the truth about her and Terrance, he’d tried to distance himself, but even he had to admit the pull of her was too great. They had something good, something he’d never experienced before, and he was pretty certain that he loved her—another first for him.
Still smiling, he climbed behind the wheel of his car, and glancing up at the upper windows of the pub, he saw his dad was looking down at him. He gave him a cheerful wave and started the ignition. As he pulled away from the kerb, he failed to notice a nondescript navy blue Ford Sierra pull out behind him.
* * *
Devan was deep in conversation, and sitting across the far side of the room, Marty watched both him and his companion intently. Shifting his weight to ease the tightness across his shoulders and neck, he sneered. From his position, he couldn’t hear what was being said, and absentmindedly, ran his hand across his close-cropped head—the taut, rough, flaking skin that resembled yellowing fish scales still felt alien to him.
Plasma-filled blisters the size of his fist had broken out across his head and upper body. The pain from the third degree burns had been excruciating, and one of the larger blisters that ran from his temple to cheek bone had become infected. Day and night it oozed foul smelling yellow coloured pus. The smell was as horrendous as the pain. The scent of paraffin ointment permeated from him. He stank of the stuff, yet it did nothing to mask the odor of the infection. It was enough to make him want to gag, and as a result, he kept his distance from people, conscious that they, too, could smell the foul stench that followed him around.
Two weeks had passed since his injuries had occurred, and in that time, he’d only once found the courage to view his refection. During his hospital stay, curiosity had finally got the better of him and he had reached out for the hand mirror that had been left on the bedside cabinet. Just one quick glance was enough to show him the extent of the damage caused, and he had no desire to take a second look.
Mooney had been right about one thing. He would forever be scarred, a permanent reminder of his wrong doing. A part of him wished that Mooney had slit his throat that night. It had to be better than being forced to live disfigured. His new horrifying appearance had even made a small child cry before being hastily bustled away by his mother. He looked like a monster and he felt like a monster, too.
“Marty.”
Marty looked up. In a world of his own, he hadn’t heard any of the conversation that had taken place between Devan and his companion, Sean Matthews. He didn’t like Matthews. Ex-military, he still walked the streets wearing Army green combats and a permanent scowl was written across his face. In his early forties, he looked a lot older than he actually was. With short mousey brown hair and cold blue eyes that were constantly narrowed, a thick white puckered scar ran down the length of his cheek. He had a natural aggression about him that made Marty wary.
“We’re on.” Devan rubbed his hands together, and sitting forward in the chair, he grinned happily. “Ta-ra, Mooney, you fucking cunt,” he joked, mimicking Sean Matthews’s broad Yorkshire accent.
Marty nodded his head. He should have felt happy, exuberant even, but he didn’t, not really. The revenge Devan had planned out would make no difference. The circumstances would never change. He would still be disfigured; he would still look like a monster, and it was as plain and as simple as that.
* * *
Kissing the top of Donna’s head, Kieran rolled onto his side, pushed the duvet away from him, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Hey.” Beside him, Donna stirred and she reached out to caress his bare back. “Are you leaving already?”
Kieran nodded, and turning back to her, he gave her a wide smile. “I’ve got work tonight.”
Donna frowned. “Work? Since when did plumbers work at night?”
“I’m on call.” The lie tripped easily off of Kieran’s tongue. After their initial meeting, he’d not only told her he was a plumber, but also that his surname was Smith. Not for one single second had he assumed they would share anything other than a one night stand, or at the very most a quick fling. Now, months later, he supposed that if she was going to become a permanent fixture in his life, then it was about time he came clean, told her the truth, and more importantly, told her who he really was. He glanced at the bedside clock. “And you have to collect the boys from your mum, remember?”
“Oh shit.” Noting the time, Donna leapt out of bed and shrugged on a flimsy dressing gown. “I didn’t realise it was so late.”
It was so typical of Donna. She’d be late for her own funeral, and shaking his head at her, Kieran smiled as he began to dress. “I can come back tonight after work, if you’d like?”
Donna paused. “I’d like that.” She flashed a grin and then continued to dress. “The boys will be happy to see you in the morning. They keep asking me where you are. They like you.”
The knowledge made Kieran’s heart leap. He liked the boys, too. They were good kids, well-behaved, and respectful. Donna had done a blinding job raising them.
Once dressed, Donna dragged a hairbrush through her dark locks and spritzed a generous amount of body spray down the length of her body. It was a cheap scent and Kieran made a mental note to buy her some decent perfume when he had the time.
“Give us a kiss then.” Moving around the bed, Donna puckered her lips before leaning in for a kiss. Smiling, she used her finger to wipe away the sticky lip gloss that had transferred to his mouth. “Suits you,” she grinned.
“Leave it out.” Laughing, Kieran used the back of his hand to double check the lip gloss had been wiped clean. “Right,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’ll see you tonight.”
“And I’ll be waiting.” She blew him a kiss and then was gone from the room.
As
the front door slammed behind her, Kieran smiled to himself. The bedroom looked as though a tornado had passed through it. He pulled the tangled duvet up from the floor and haphazardly threw it across the bed before following suit and leaving the house.
* * *
Standing outside the entrance door to The Merry Fiddlers, Jonah was in high spirits. As a group of women passed through the doors, he nudged Jaden in the ribs. “Wouldn’t say no to her.” He gestured to the young woman in question, a leggy blonde wearing gold coloured hot pants, and a matching cropped top that barely concealed her large firm breasts.
Jaden raised his eyebrows in return. Once upon a time, he would have agreed and enjoyed the banter, but seeing as he had saddled himself into getting married to Katie, he decided to keep schtum on the matter. Under the circumstances, it had to be a lot safer than the alternative.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Looking down at his watch, Jonah’s forehead furrowed.
“What?” As he approached his brother, Kieran shrugged his shoulders. It had only just gone half past seven and the main attraction didn’t start until at least nine.
“We’ve been here for over an hour.” He jerked his thumb toward Jaden. “You’re lucky the old man didn’t turn up. You know what he’s like; he would have torn you to pieces.”
Kieran shrugged a second time. He was getting sick and tired of his brother’s attitude of late. He was always whining, always having a pop about something or other. “What the fuck is with you lately?”
“Me?” Jonah stabbed his thumb into his chest and chuckled incredulously. “What’s wrong with me? You’re the one who was late.”
“Yeah, you heard me right, what’s with you?” He poked his head around the pub door, caught Big Bernie’s attention, and motioned for a pint of cola to be brought over to him. “Well?” He turned back to his brother. “You’re starting to sound like an old woman.” He used his fingers to mimic a mouth opening and closing. “Always fucking moaning.”
Jonah laughed even harder, and stepping aside so a large group of women could enter the pub, his blue eyes twinkled as he nodded after them. “Bit of all right, them, ain’t they?”
“If they ain’t careful, they’ll have someone’s eye out with them knockers.” Wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulders, Kieran grinned good naturedly. “You know what your problem is, don’t you? You need to get yourself laid, bruv,” he sighed theatrically, “and the sooner the fucking better it’ll be for all of us.”
“Yeah, all right.” Detangling himself from his brother’s embrace, Jonah winked at the women cheekily. “Have a good night, girls.”
“See, I told you.” Winking across to Jaden, Kieran grinned widely. “He’s like a dog on heat.”
* * *
If there was one thing that Cathy loved more than anything else, it was entertaining. Topping up Stella’s wine glass, she replaced the bottle into the polished silver ice bucket, then moved across the kitchen to where the large American fridge was housed. Opening the glossy black and chrome door, she took out a carton of fresh orange juice and poured out a glass for Katie.
“I’m starving.” With her legs tucked underneath her, Katie sat at the table.
“You’re always starving.” Passing across the filled glass, Cathy laughed lightly. “How about I order in a couple of pizzas?” She glanced down at her watch. If she ordered them now, they should arrive roughly the same time as when Paul was due home.
“Can I have pineapple on mine?”
Stella rolled her eyes. “Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza.”
“Yes, it does. Please, Auntie Cath?” Ignoring her mother’s comment, Katie smiled sweetly at her aunt.
“Course you can.” Cathy answered with a wink as she placed a selection of takeaway menus on the kitchen table. “Choose whatever you want, darling.”
“You spoil her,” Stella grumbled.
Still smiling, Cathy shrugged her shoulders. What was the point of having children if you couldn’t spoil them?
Twenty minutes later, the pizzas had been ordered, and sitting down at the table, Cathy happily listened to her niece chattering away about her upcoming nuptials.
“And so we are going to have a horse-drawn carriage, and I want rose petals scattered down the aisle. And then at the reception, we are going to have one of those big balloon arches. I was thinking of having rose gold for the colour theme, but Mum thinks pink or peach would be better.”
Cathy couldn’t help but smile. Katie’s enthusiasm was contagious and she found her mind wandering to her own wedding. On her finger, was a square cut diamond ring. It was beautiful and she knew it had cost Paul a small fortune, but as he had told her when she protested over the price, he had waited more than twenty years to be able to propose.
“So what do you think, Auntie Cath? Rose gold or one of the colours Mum suggested?”
Cathy smiled gently, and squeezing her niece’s hand, she answered. “It’s your wedding, darling. You choose whatever you want.”
“Rose gold it is then.” Katie beamed, much to her mother’s annoyance.
* * *
By the time evening had descended, as was expected, The Merry Fiddlers was packed to the rafters. As a result, a queue of customers snaked around the side of the building awaiting entry. The atmosphere was jovial, and a ripple of excitement filled the air.
Bypassing the queue, a group of six men headed toward the door, and holding up his hand, Kieran shook his head. It wasn’t unheard of for customers to push their luck and try to bypass the queues, and in truth, if they had been women, he may have just let them sneak in.
“Not tonight, lads.” He raised his voice to be heard above the music.
The words had barely left his mouth, when from underneath one of the long leather trench coats the men favoured, he saw a flash of steel. As if in slow motion, he motioned for his brother to move out of the way, but it was too late. As Jonah turned to face him with a familiar grin plastered across his face, a steel machete crashed down across his head, splitting his skull in two. As he fell to the ground with a surprised expression still emblazoned across his face, pandemonium broke out.
Without even pausing for breath, the men swung the weapons forward in what could only be described as a planned and frenzied attack.
As they too went down underneath the blows, Kieran and Jaden had no chance whatsoever to defend themselves. Within seconds, it was all over, and as they lay bleeding out their life’s blood supply on the dirty pub floor amid screams and chaos, the assailants had already left the scene.
* * *
Oblivious to what had just taken place in Dagenham, Paul walked behind the bar of The Jolly Fisherman, and taking two glasses from the shelf, he filled them with brandy. It was the good stuff they kept behind the bar, rather than the cheaper watered down version contained in the optics. Passing a glass across to Jason, he nodded his head toward the back of the property. “I’ve just got a couple of things to finish up, and then we’ll shoot off. Cath just text me; she’s ordered in some food.”
“Good.” Rubbing at his stomach, Jason grinned happily. He was so hungry that he could eat a scabby horse.
Together, they made their way up the stairs to where the office was situated, and as they ascended the steps, they chatted easily.
“Paul, phone call for you.” From the bottom of the stairs, Sue called up to him.
“Who is it?”
“What am I, your fucking secretary?” With a damp cloth in her hand, Sue bristled at his words.
Paul chuckled. “You, Sue, are my godsend. What would I do without you, eh?”
Basking in his praise, Sue patted her silvery grey hair before passing the telephone across. A wide smile was etched across her face. If only she was twenty years younger, the thought was enough to make her giggle. “It’s Bernie.”
“Bern.” Still smiling, Paul spoke into the telephone receiver. Within moments, the smile froze upon his face and his skin had paled. “How bad are w
e talking?”
He listened intently to what Bernie had to say, and forgetting that Bernie couldn’t actually see him, he silently nodded his head.
“What’s going on?” Joining Paul in the hallway, Jason mouthed the words.
Replacing the telephone, the hairs on the back of Paul’s neck stood up on end. He wiped his palm across his cold clammy face.
“Well?”
“There’s been an incident.” He looked around him, barely able to comprehend what Bernie had just told him. “It’s the boys.” He shook his head and dragged his palm once more across his face. His stomach churned, and as his mouth watered, bile rose up in his throat. “There was an incident and the boys …” He could barely get the words out without wanting to wretch.
“What?” Jason asked. “For fuck’s sake, Paul, spit it out, will you? Are they okay?”
Paul shook his head, and slumping back against the wall, he gazed out unseeingly toward the bar. The sound of customers laughing and in high spirits was suddenly loud to his ears. “It’s not good.” He pushed his hand into his trousers pocket and took out his car keys with a trembling hand. “It’s not fucking good.”
Snatching the car keys out of his brother-in-law’s hand, Jason dragged Paul toward the side door. “I’ll drive,” he stated. “You’re in no fit state.”
With the car keys held tightly in his fist, Jason hastily unlocked the doors and climbed behind the wheel.
“Cathy.” Paul closed his eyes tightly and his voice faltered. “I have to tell Cathy, she needs to know.”
Jason shook his head, and placing the key into the ignition, he glanced sideways. “Find out how bad it is first, mate, then you can let her know, once you know the full score.”
