Thorn In My Side

by Sheila Quigley

  His hopes of her being with Maria were dashed a moment later, when Maria shook her head and tried to close the door in their faces. But Gary had been ready for this, and already had his foot firmly planted.

  'Have yer seen her?' he practically shouted into Maria’s startled face, as he towered above her.

  'No! Now go away, before I call the police.' She pushed as hard as she could on the door, but she was no match for Gary.

  'We just want to know if you’ve seen her in the last few days, that’s all.' He punched the side of the door and growled his frustration. 'We need to know, for God’s sake. Do you understand?'

  'No.' Fear in her eyes, her whole body starting to tremble, she kept on struggling with the door.

  Liam put his hand on Gary’s shoulder. Understanding why, Gary restrained himself, knowing he wouldn’t get anything out of her if he frightened her too much. With a supreme effort, he said calmly, 'Look, we don’t mean yer any harm here, pet. We’re just worried about our sister, that’s all. We need to know where she is. If you’re her friend, you’ll know why we need to make sure she’s safe. Time is important, she could be anywhere and be needing help.'

  Maria sighed, and stopped trying to close the door. Her efforts had been fruitless, anyhow. 'The last time I saw her, she was in the nightclub. I went to the bar, and when I came back with the drinks, she’d gone. I asked around, and no one had seen her go. I’ve phoned her mobile a few times, but either there’s no reception or it’s dead. And that’s everything I know.'

  The three men stared at her. 'Look, honestly, that’s all I know,' she repeated, staring back at them. 'Now, if you don’t mind…' She made to close the door again. This time it was the palm of Gary’s hand that stopped her.

  'If you do hear from her, tell her to get in touch. Right?'

  'Yes. Now, please just go.' He took his palm off the door and it slammed shut.

  Bending down, Gary opened the letterbox. 'I’m going to push my number through. If you hear from her, phone me, OK?'

  Listening, he heard a faint 'Yes' from somewhere in the bowels of the house.

  Hastily, he wrote his number down and posted it, as Liam said, 'Do yer think she’s telling the truth, Gary? Only she seemed a bit nervous to me, like.'

  'Yeah, she was a bit off for my liking, an’ all. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s hiding something… We’ll be back though, we’re not giving up until we find our Shelly.' He turned to Danny. 'We’ll drop you at home and we’ll be back in the morning.'

  They went back to the car. 'I can walk from here, you know. It’s not that far,' Danny said.

  Gary started the car. 'Get in.'

  Danny quickly obliged. When they reached Evan’s flat, he said, 'Er... do you think I should report Shelly missing? It’s been forty-eight hours now.'

  Gary glared at Danny in disbelief. 'What? You mean to tell me that yer haven’t reported her missing yet?'

  Danny licked his dry lips 'The coppers know all about her. Didn’t they think it was her who was dead?'

  'It’s gotta be official, yer stupid dickhead. Don’t yer know it’s all form-filling these days?'

  'Oh right, I’ll get straight onto it, then.' Danny quickly nodded his head.

  'You do that. We’ll be back in the morning.' It was the look in his eyes, and what Gary didn’t say, that made Danny shudder.

  He got out of the car and went up to Evan’s flat, finding the sitting room and small kitchen empty. Pleased to see that Alicia’s folks had gone, he tapped on Evan’s bedroom door. 'You in there, Evan?'

  'Yes,' came a flat reply.

  'You all right?'

  Evan didn’t answer.

  Shit. Of course he’s not all right. What the hell do I say? Sighing, he came up with the only thing he could think of. 'Want a cuppa and something to eat, Evan? Toast? Sandwich? I think there’s some corned beef in the fridge… How about a can of lager? Or I could go down to the chippy. A nice fish, eh? Some chips and mushy peas?'

  He patted his back pocket. Shit, no cash.

  'No.'

  Relived that Evan hadn’t wanted anything from the fish shop, Danny said. 'All right, then… Do you want to talk?' Waiting for Evan to answer, he fidgeted with his belt loops, not knowing what else to say or do. Should I go in, maybes give him a man hug?

  But Evan’s answer was a final, flat, 'No.'

  'OK. OK.' Danny backed away from the bedroom door. There was nothing else he could do. He had never had anyone close to him die before, and was lost as to how to help Evan. He wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, switched the kettle on, then switched it off, slouched back into the sitting room and flicked the telly on. Nothing on there again, he thought, staring at the blonde woman announcer. Something about floods further down the country. He stared at the terrible mess of people’s homes, not really taking it on board. The trouble was, everywhere he looked, all he could see was Alicia’s dead body.

  It was on his third visit back from the kitchen, with a piece of cold, soggy pizza in his hand, when he noticed the red blinking light on the telephone.

  'It’ll just be someone wanting to tell Evan how sorry they are,' he murmured. 'People are kind like that.' Nodding to himself, he sat down opposite the TV.

  He tried to concentrate again, this time on some sort of murder mystery. But he couldn’t figure out what it was about, or what the hell the bad guy had done, or even if the bad guy was a guy. The repetitive blinking light that he could see out of the corner of his eye kept distracting him. Laying his head back, he sighed deeply. His heart weighed heavy inside him for Alicia, for Evan, and for Shelly. He looked up at the ceiling.

  Where is she?

  Where the hell is she?

  Why don’t you phone, Shelly? For God’s sake, just phone me. You know I’ll be worried.

  He starred at the blinking light again. 'Should I?' he murmured.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Aunt May let herself in through the back door. The first thing she spotted was Tiny. The first thing she heard was Tiny snoring his huge head off.

  'Dear God,' she muttered, then shouted through into the sitting room, 'Hello? Has the Monster from the Black Lagoon been out tonight?'

  'Do you mean Mike or Tiny, Aunt May?' Smiler shot back.

  Not being aware of having given Smiler permission to call her Aunt May she nevertheless smiled. He seemed a canny enough kid, and God only knew what he’d been through. No doubt, in time, if Smiler didn’t tell her all about it, then Mike would. He did seem terribly busy at the moment, with one thing and another.

  She walked to the connecting doorway between the two rooms, and said with a laugh, 'It’s hard to tell one from the other, but if they’ve both been out, I’ll be happy.'

  'Job done.'

  ' Well done, son. Fancy a chicken sandwich?'

  Tiny snorted loudly, and raised his head. 'Not bloody you!' Aunt May curled her lip at him. 'Been all the same if I was a burglar. I could have been in and out with half the house by the time you woke up, stupid bloody mutt.'

  Tiny wagged his tail at her, just as Smiler came into the kitchen. 'Let me make us the sandwiches, Aunt May.'

  'Hmm, why not. Be a change to put me feet up. Two sugars, there’s a good lad.'

  'Count me in,' Mike said from behind Smiler. 'I’m starving.' He came into the kitchen, headed for the fridge, and took out a can of lager. Looking at Smiler pointedly, he went on, 'No tea for me thanks, got my own liquid refreshment.' He winked as, smiling, he passed them both, went back into the sitting room, and claimed the seat by the log fire which, although set and waiting only for a match, it was far too warm a night to light.

  Ten minutes later, they were all seated and tucking into roast chicken sandwiches. Aunt May looked approvingly at the triangular, crustless sandwiches, while they all pretended not to see Tiny slowly wending his way in from the kitchen.

  Mike hid a smile. Everything was working out the way he’d hoped. Aunt May seemed to have taken a shine to Smiler, and Tiny
was working on her. Mike worried about her being on her own in the winter months, and these two seemed the perfect solution.

  'I’ve been thinking,' Aunt May said, interrupting his chain of thought.

  'Hope it didn’t hurt too much,' Mike put in, before she could say any more.

  Pursing her lips, she looked at Smiler. 'See what I have to put up with from the cheeky monkey?'

  Smiler nodded solemnly. He was experiencing something he’d never had, a sort of family camaraderie that gave him a warm feeling inside. And he was basking in it.

  Mike laughed. 'OK, spill it. What have you been thinking about, Aunt May?'

  'Well, I’m not sure if I want to go on this walk thing.’

  'What walk thing?'

  'I told you all about it,' she tutted. 'These bloody people, them strangers, they turned up a while ago and started getting everyone riled up about the Lindisfarne Gospels, saying they should be back on the island where they belong. But I don’t like them… I did tell you about it, Mike, I’m bloody sure I did.'

  Mike looked perplexed. He was convinced it was the first he’d heard, but he played along. 'OK, tell me again.'

  'I just did.'

  'Right. Why don’t you like them?'

  'Well,' she sniffed, 'a couple of them are foreigners.'

  'That’s no reason not to like them!'

  'I know that, silly. I have met some nice foreigners, you know. That Greek couple who come every year, they send cards at Christmas. Then there’s that other couple from France, they bring their three kids with them. Very well behaved they are, as well. And a very nice pair of young men from Florida, who come every spring. Actually,' her voice fell to a whisper, 'I think they’re gay.'

  Mike laughed. 'They can’t hear you, darling. Florida’s a long way from here.'

  Smiler tried to hide a grin as Aunt May went on, 'I know that, clever bugger. But those up at the castle aren’t nice men like the Florida guys. They rent some rooms up there at the castle, and look down their noses at the locals, and they order the staff around as if they were nothing but bloody slaves. Sally-Anne told me, she’s worked there for years, and says she’s never seen the like. Strut around like they own the bloody place. And they wander around with those metal detector things… Sally-Anne swears she saw them tapping walls in the castle. Actually, when I think about it, it must have been Tony I told, ‘cos he asked me all sorts of questions about them when he phoned the other week.'

  Mike frowned. He was about to speak when Aunt May screamed. Tiny had put his cold nose on the back of her neck and was now trying to lick it.

  'Get back, you bloody great filthy beast!' She pushed him, but gently, and couldn’t help but chuckle as Mike and Smiler erupted in gales of laughter.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Further down the street was a far less cosy scene, as Jill Paterson and her daughter Jayne were at each other’s throats yet again.

  'But I can’t see why you won’t let me sleep at Uncle Billy’s, on nights when the tide’s in. I’m like a prisoner here. I hate it. You know I hate it.' She stamped her foot, which only made Jill all the more angry. 'It’s your fault we live on a stupid island, of all places.' Jayne waved her arms around in frustration. 'I mean, Mother, get real. Who wants to live on an island? Not cool!'

  'Yes, we live on an island and you were mad keen to come here at first. Why change your mind now? And really, you know fine well you can change everything to suit the tide. It’s hardly that bloody damn restricting.'

  Jayne stamped her foot again as she shouted, 'Isn’t it? You don’t get it, do you! We could just move to Berwick. At least there’s more life there. I hate this place.'

  Jill retorted, just as loudly, 'No, we can’t just flaming well move to Berwick. When you are eighteen, then you can stop out on tide nights, and not until. I don’t want to hear another word on the subject right?' She slammed a plate of spaghetti Bolognese in front of her. 'And you can get that muck washed out of your hair tonight, it’s a right mess.'

  Jayne jumped up. 'No, it’s not and it won’t wash out, see? It’s a dye, not a rinse… And I’m not hungry. And I hate spaghetti Bolognese. That’s why you made it, isn’t it? ‘Cos you know I hate it. And… and I hate you as well. No wonder Dad left, I don’t blame him. You eat this pile of shit.'

  She pushed her plate across the table. Jill caught it just in time as it wobbled on the edge. Knowing she’d stepped way over the line, Jayne turned and ran from the room, leaving Jill staring angrily at the plate of food.

  'She didn’t mean it, Mum.' Cassie got up from the chair where she’d been sitting, with her hands over her ears hoping to block the row out, though with little success. She put her arm around her mother’s waist, and laid her head on her chest. 'I love it here, Mum. It’s much better than where we used to live.'

  Staring at the door, Jill muttered 'But she loves spaghetti Bolognese. That’s why I made it, you know she does.'

  Jill was hiding the real reason why she was so upset. Her daughter telling her that she was to blame for her marriage break-up had really stung. It’s so unfair, but how do I explain it all without coming across as the bad guy in the whole sordid mess?

  Blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears in her eyes, she squeezed Cassie. 'You really do like it here, don’t you, love? I know you’re bound to miss your old friends, but you’ve made some new ones… Maybe that’s what’s wrong with Jayne, she’s missing her friends. Speaking of which,' she held Cassie at arm’s length, 'have you met any of her new friends yet?'

  'Well…'

  'Well, what?' Jill looked suspiciously at her daughter.

  'There’s this girl called Maria, I don’t like her very much.' She looked up at the ceiling, as if to check that her sister wasn’t spying on her, then whispered, 'She has loads of rings in her face, and I think she’s drunk most of the time.'

  'Most of the time!' Jill was shocked. 'How many times have you seen her?'

  Cassie started to squirm, torn between loyalty to her mother and her sister. 'A… a few times… She waits outside of school some days. Her and Jayne walk in front of me, and they whisper all the time. She’s got hair like our Jayne has now, long and black. I think it's her who made our Jayne dye hers.'

  'Made?'

  Cassie shrugged. 'You know what I mean.'

  'No… what do you mean? Did she force her?' Jill was frowning at Cassie . 'Did she force your sister to dye her hair? Tell me the truth, Cassie.'

  Squirming, Cassie said. 'Not like, she held a gun, sort of forcing. She’s been pestering her for weeks, though.'

  'Is there anything else I should know?'

  Cassie shook her head, trying to look away from her mother’s piercing stare. 'Don’t know what you mean,' she mumbled.

  'Anything, Cassie. Like, have you seen our Jayne drink with this Maria person? Does Maria hand the bottle over to Jayne? I need to know, Cassie.'

  'No. Maria does keeps handing her the bottle, but Jayne refuses… They keep whispering about the brothers, but I can’t make out what they say because they hurry up and leave me behind. I think they must be Maria’s brothers.'

  Jill and Cassie fell silent at the mention of brothers, remembering a five-year-old brother and son, dead because a father and husband decided he had to see one of his harem on the way back from picking him up from school. A case of the wrong place at the wrong time. A drunken driver who served a mere year before he was back out on the streets, armed and ready to kill again.

  Jill shuddered and held Cassie closer. Thank God for Cassie, she thought, looking up at the ceiling in much the same way as Cassie had done a few minutes ago.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Danny stared at the blinking light. It was starting to drive him crazy now. Should I check it?

  It could be important.

  'No, better not,' he muttered, shaking his head, 'it's probably none of my business. It’ll be some friends wanting to know about Alicia, and how Evan is, and I really don’t think I can face them mys
elf, never mind poor Evan.'

  He went into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. 'I could murder a can, though.' Realising what he’d said, he shuddered and swung his head to the door, praying Evan hadn’t heard.

  'No joy', he sighed a moment later, looking at bottles of mineral water, and a couple of bottles of wine, which he’d never developed a taste for. Picking a glass up from the drainer, he filled it with water and wandered aimlessly back into the sitting room. The damn light was still blinking at him.

  'Shit.' He put his glass on the coffee table then, remembering that Alicia had a thing about glass marks, hastily picked it back up and placed it on a red coaster on the hearth.

  A moment later, he realised what he’d done. Alicia wasn’t here any more to care about glass marks, or anything else, for that matter. She wouldn’t ever be here again. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as he pictured her laughing. She’d always had an easy way about her. No way did she have Shelly’s stubborn streak, nor her temper. If her family, friends and Evan were happy, then Alicia was happy.

  'Don’t think Evan’s ever gonna get over this.' He frowned, wondering again, who and why?

  'Alicia never hurt a soul in her life.'

  There had to be a reason, and why in my bed? He shuddered, remembering how he’d thought it was Shelly. He knew he would never be able to get rid of the picture in his head of Alicia lying there so pale on the cold slab.

  Is somebody trying to frighten me, or what?

  But why?

  He sighed. It was all pretty much beyond him. And the fucking phone is still blinking. 'Damn it. Can’t stand this any friggin’ more.' Picking it up, he pressed the message button. He froze in shock when he heard Shelly’s voice, so much that he took none of the message on board.