By the sandwich-laden sideboard, the Fegan twins shook his hand in turn. Liam approved and offered each of them a half-smile and a sigh. It seemed grown up and suitably serious behaviour in the presence of the white coffin. Tommy's box glowed against the backdrop of drawn curtains. A dead kid in his parents' living room. What a fucked up tradition. Liam nodded towards the front door and the twins stepped out of the house with him and into the summer twilight. He'd had better Fridays.
"Did you hear about the dipso at the Falls Road Library?" Matt Fegan asked.
Liam shook his head. Maybe a little too quickly. Matt didn't seem to notice. He licked his lips and smiled.
"Burnt to a fucking crisp. Set himself on fire with a fag or something. Too drunk to wake up and put himself out."
Liam's skin burned in a hot wave of guilt and relief. Just another dead dipso, he told himself. If it was written off as an accident, then he could rest easy over the whole thing. The story kept him out of trouble at least. And maybe in time he'd forget the smell of the burning sleeping bag... He swallowed hard and grasped for a distraction.
"You shouldn't be talking about that." Liam said. "We're here to remember Tommy, not think about some aul wino. Who's got a fag?"
"I need something stronger to smoke," Eddie Fegan said. "Have you any grass on you?"
"Not here, mate. It'd be disrespectful."
"Oh, right. Matt, give Liam a fag."
The younger twin tilted a half-empty pack towards Liam.
"Cheers." Liam lit up and pulled smoke into his cottony mouth. "I'm dying of thirst. Could murder a tin of Fanta."
"Sure we'll dander to the shop," Matt said.
Liam knew the twins were more interested in questioning him than smoking his grass or joining him in a quest for Fanta. He also knew he'd have to tell his version of the Tommy Tragedy sooner or later. He decided to tackle it head on as they walked.
"Go ahead and ask me."
"About what?" Eddie asked.
"About the other day. About getting chased by that peeler. About Tommy getting splattered all over the road."
"I heard they found bits of him in the grounds of City Hall," Matt said. "That has to be about fifty yards from those traffic lights."
Liam tried not to laugh. "Don't be so fucking stupid. Where'd you hear that?"
The twin frowned. "Don't know. I just heard."
Liam imagined one of the Goth kids sitting about the green outside City Hall casually flicking Tommy's ear off his shoulder. Then he remembered the screaming girl at the traffic lights, the beads of Tommy's blood on her face, and it wasn't funny anymore.
"Well it's shite. Don't let me hear you say that again, all right?"
Matt gave Liam a hard stare but kept his mouth shut.
"So what did happen?" Eddie asked, shaking his head at his brother.
"Well, me and Tommy ran like fuck to keep the heat off you lot. I've never ran so fast in my life. And fair play to our Tommy, he matched me step for step. I thought we were going to make it. The cop was falling behind, the wee green man was lit up, we could have disappeared into the crowd and everything would have been sweet. But then Tommy had one of his asthma attacks."
"Did he tell you to leave him behind?"
"No, Eddie, but he was really fighting to breathe. He couldn't say shit."
"Poor wee bastard."
Liam nodded. "Aye. It was desperate. I did what I could for him. The lights had changed and the traffic was picking up speed, but going full tilt I'd have made it. No sweat. I couldn't leave Tommy to get scooped though. I grabbed his arm and tried to give him an extra boost across the road. Tommy nodded like he was telling me we could make it."
Their saunter up Beechmount Avenue slowed to a halt within spitting distance of the shop. Liam flicked his fag butt onto the bonnet of a parked car. He took a deep breath.
"Then what?" Matt asked. The sick fucker wanted all the gory details.
"We stumbled on the last lane. I might have tripped over Tommy's feet or he might have got caught up in mine. Either way, we only stayed upright by clinging on to each other. Then I was falling towards the footpath. Almost took out a bunch of Spanish tourists. I heard something skidding. Then a thick, wet thumping sound. That's when the screaming started."
Matt leaned forward, wide-eyed and barely breathing. Eddie fidgeted, pulling at the short sleeves of his striped T-shirt and shifting his weight from foot to foot. He chewed on the inside of his pale cheeks. Liam inwardly congratulated himself on a job well done. His carefully planned version came out sounding natural and weighed down by anguish. He just needed another joint to smother the pangs of guilt gathering strength in the pit of his stomach.
"But..." Eddie paused, scrunched up his face and tried again. "But if the two of you were clinging on to each other how come Tommy didn't land on the footpath with you?"
Liam dropped the corners of his mouth and pushed out his lower lip. He looked Eddie right in the eye. "Don't you see, mate? Tommy pushed me. The last thing our Tommy ever did was save my life. Now that's a fucking mate."
Matt whistled long and low in appreciation. Eddie shook his head slowly. They'd bought it. Every last bit of it. Liam looked away from them, like he needed a minute to collect himself.
"I'll be back in a minute. That Fanta's not going to walk out to me."
The cover of the shop allowed him to drop his morose expression for a moment. A smile spread across his face as he lifted a can from the back of the cooler to make sure he got one of the coldest. After paying, he cracked open the tin in the shop and gulped down the first half. Heaven. Back outside he offered a swig to the twins. They both declined. Liam noticed something different in their manner. He figured they were in awe. A kid they grew up with had died to save their best mate. They had to respect that.
###
Joe rapped Wee Danny's door and enjoyed the solid thunk of knuckle on wood. The PVC doors, all the rage a few years ago, just didn't produce the same sound. Mister Gibson had been right to pass on the Housing Executive's offer. He'd taken the double-glazed windows but bought himself a solid pine front door with money from a whiplash claim. A little spyhole had been fitted into it. Danny couldn't reach it.
"Who is it?" Danny's snare drum voice travelled through the wood loud and clear.
"It's me, Joe. Let me in, would you?"
"Not by the hair on my wrinkled ball bag."
"Just open the door, dickhead."
The security chain rattled and the lock slid open. Danny opened the door a couple of inches and peeked out.
"You on your own, Joe?"
Joe shoved the door open, jolting Danny back a few steps.
"Yes, I'm on my own. Why are you acting like such a fruit?"
Danny spoke over his shoulder as he led Joe through the living room and into the kitchen at the back of the house. "I just can't be arsed with people. Everyone's telling me what I should be doing. I've been keeping a low profile until I get my head around the Tommy thing."
"Any luck with that?"
"Fuck, no. I still don't even believe it."
"I was just about to call around to his wake. Come with me. You'll believe it when you see him."
"Are you fucking nuts? Why would I want to do that? I didn't go to my granny's wake. I'm fucked if I'm going to Tommy's."
"You should say goodbye."
Wee Danny's chuckle sounded like a cancerous cough. "He's already gone, mate. We don't get to say goodbye."
"The funeral's not until Sunday. He'll be at his ma's until the hearse picks him up."
"That's not what I mean."
Joe opened the fridge and found a load of crappy vegetables. "Have you any biscuits or crisps?"
"No, my ma does the shopping on Saturdays."
"I bet there's wee bowls of crisps and plates of chocolate biscuits at Tommy's house."
Wee Danny ignored the observation. "I mean, do you see the point of wakes?"
"I don't see the point of loads of things, but that's
life."
"What do you think Heaven's like?"
"It's probably shit. Like a Christmas mass. All that singing and rejoicing."
"Maybe it smells like incense. That'd be okay."
"It'd be better if it smelled like weed."
Wee Danny laughed a real laugh. "And you lay about on huge clouds of toke-smoke."
"And Pringles grew on trees."
"Hah, yeah. That'd be fucking sweet." Wee Danny unlocked the backdoor, beckoned for Joe to follow him into the yard and lit two fags. He passed one to Joe.
"Cheers, mate. I'll buy a pack later."
"No sweat." Wee Danny puffed a line of smoke rings and they floated off into the still air. "Do you think we'll go to Heaven?"
"Aye."
"Do you?"
"Kids don't go to Hell. We're, like, immune until we're eighteen."
"How do you know that?"
"It just makes sense. Why would God want to send a kid to Hell when there's plenty of murderers and kiddie fiddlers out there to keep the fire going? We're not altar boys, but we're not evil or anything."
"So you'd say Tommy definitely went to Heaven?"
"Of course. Sure he was the one that talked the Fegan twins out of taking knives out on our hunts. He'll probably get one of the nicest clouds for that."
Wee Danny nodded. "Yeah, you're right. He was the best of the lot of us, wasn't he?"
"He was a fucking saint."
They flicked their butts and had an unofficial minute's silence in honour of Tommy Four-Eyes. It ended with the blare of a car horn from a neighbouring street and the laughter of kids messing about. Joe thought he should get Danny out of the house, even if only for a trip to the shop.
"Come on and we'll go get some fags, mate."
Wee Danny pulled a twenty-pound note out of his pocket and waved it at Joe. "My ma gave me this yesterday to cheer me up. Know what we should do?"
"Tell me."
"Buy cigarettes, cider, chips and chocolate. Then we should find a nice spot to sit and fill ourselves up while we remember some more shit about Tommy. That'd kick the balls out of any fucking wake."
Joe's stomach rumbled agreement and they were on their way within the minute. Wee Danny seemed to be back to his old self as he gabbed on about the shite he'd been watching on TV all day. It seemed he wanted to save the Tommy-speak until he had a wee drop in him. Joe half-listened while his mind wandered. He kept getting flashback images of his da sniggering as he defaced McVeigh's Bruce Lee poster. They'd done little else after going to all that trouble to get in. His da had rooted about in a few drawers and took photos of some bills and letters with a real cracker of a digital camera. Joe didn't ask why. He just wanted to get out before McVeigh got home. Distracting his da with questions would have held them back.
"It'd be a good idea, wouldn't it, Joe?"
Wee Danny's direct question snapped Joe back into their conversation. "Aye, yeah. Good idea." He hadn't a clue about what he was agreeing with.
"Right, well, you phone Liam and I'll call the twins and they can pass it on to everyone else."
Shite. "Um... you go first." There was a chance he'd catch what he'd missed if he heard what Wee Danny had to say to the twins.
"Why?"
"Because... they're probably together anyway. No point in making two calls if one will do the same job."
Wee Danny shrugged and conceded. "Hiya, Eddie? Yeah, it's Danny. Me and Joe are just heading to the off licence. We thought it might be good to all get together and have a wee memorial night for Tommy."
Joe inwardly cursed himself. He wasn't in the mood for a big gathering. He should have paid attention to Wee Danny's prattling. And Liam hadn't been in touch since he phoned Joe and told him about Tommy's accident. Joe wanted to talk to him about how Tommy had died and why he thought it was his fault. He would have to keep his questions to himself until he got Liam alone.
"Aye. Yeah. No, like just have a bit of a session and tell stories about the guy. Aye. The whole gang. Liam with you? Well, see what he thinks." Wee Danny crossed his eyes and pulled faces for Joe's entertainment while he waited for Eddie to get back to him. "Yeah? Right. Okay. I'll ask him."
Joe flicked his head back. "What is it?"
"They just want to know where to meet. You pick."
"How about Clarendon Dock? Down by the Seacat?"
"What for?"
"For a change. It's dead chilled out down there."
"There's plenty of places around here. We don't need to go that far."
Joe tutted. None of his mates ever wanted to go any further than the Lower Falls. "We'll just go to Dunville Park then."
Wee Danny nodded and passed it on. They agreed to meet in an hour to allow enough time to get a hold of the rest of the gang.
"So let's get that chip then," Joe said, "before I eat you."
They tucked into their takeaway food in the bus shelter at the park gates. It seemed as good a spot as any. Black taxis and busses trundled by as the rush hour congestion thinned. Considering the mild weather, Dunville Park was pretty vacant. A couple of families lurked around the play area, but they'd more than likely be on their way within the hour. They'd have the whole place to themselves. All the better for relaxing. It only ever took a snide remark or even a dirty look from some nosy prick to turn things nasty. Combine the usual malarkey with a fucked up week like the Rockets just had and it was a recipe for disaster.
"What about your da then?" Wee Danny asked.
"What about him?"
"Has he been cool to you or what?"
Joe stalled for a few seconds, amazed by how much had gone on in just a few days. He hadn't even had time to tell Wee Danny about stealing the Honda or breaking into McVeigh's. "Ah, mate, if Tommy hadn't died, this might have been the best week of my life."
"Seriously? How come?"
He started with an in-depth description of Emily, a serious indication of his da's success, and went on to tell his best mate about the joyride and the burglary.
"And you never asked him why he was so interested in McVeigh's paperwork?"
"No." Joe Shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find out sooner or later."
Wee Danny shook his head. "And the teachers are always going on about your potential too. You've not got two brain cells to rub together."
"I'm too busy rubbing your ma's..."
"Hey," Wee Danny said. "Let the man who lives in a glass whore house throw the first stone."
"What the fuck's that mean?"
"It's a famous quote, you goon."
Joe creased his brow. "You're full of shit, wee lad."
"No, I'm full of useful information. That's how I've already figured out what your da is going to do with McVeigh's details."
"And are you going to tell me?"
"Identity theft."
"You what?"
Wee Danny rolled up the greasy paper bag he'd eaten his chips from and dropped it at his feet. He rubbed his hands dry on his jeans and burped. "Our Paul told me about it. He had to do a course on something called Data Protection before he was allowed anywhere near a phone. If somebody else gets a hold of a customer's address and bank account numbers or internet banking passwords they can start applying for loans and credit cards and all sorts. Then it's party time."
"And the customer pays all the bills?"
"Now you're getting it."
"Fuck, imagine how much debt they'd be in."
"You're not really focussing on the bigger picture."
"What's that?"
"Your da can buy you shitloads of stuff when the money starts pouring in."
Joe didn't share Wee Danny's single-minded enthusiasm. Stealing someone's DVD player from their house was one thing. Taking their identity? Fucking hardcore. He almost felt sorry for McVeigh. Almost.
"Here they come, Joe." Danny nodded towards the pedestrian crossing at the bottom of the Springfield Road.
Liam and the twins had made it first. They waited at the lights for the traffic to st
op. It seemed that Tommy's fate had sent a blunt reminder of their mortality. Any other day they'd have stepped off the kerb and expected the cars to stop. Joe shot them a quick wave. Matt Fegan returned it with a lightning-fast salute. Nobody yelled insults. Joe didn't like that. The hype and banter was missing. They hadn't even gotten within speaking distance and already the awkwardness glared.
Together, the five of them trudged down the gentle slope to the benches at the bottom of the park. They sat and rustled blue plastic bags. Bottles of cider hissed as the lids spun off and plastic cigarette lighters crackled alight.
"So, are the rest coming?" Wee Danny asked.
Liam nodded.
"And are they bringing the craic?"
"I fucking hope so. You'd think someone died."
A couple of sniggers sounded among them. Joe hoped they could fan those sparks of laughter into something warmer.
Matt wiped cider foam from the corners of his mouth. "Mickey, the two Franks and Kevin were already knocking about together when I called them. Said they'd come and meet us after they'd been to see Tommy. Have you two been already?"
"Aye," Joe said. "My ma phoned me as soon as she heard he was home. Me and Danny were part of the first bunch. We didn't stay long. Felt a bit in the way." Joe glanced at Wee Danny. The wee fellah barely nodded, but his eyes thanked Joe.
"I know what you mean, big lad," Eddie said. "That kind of shite's for grown ups."
"I thought he was a bit old for a white coffin," Matt said. "Are they not for wee tiny kids, like?"
Joe shrugged. "It's probably just a matter of taste these days. Nothing really means anything anymore."
Liam made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a whistle. "Nothing means anything. That's so fucking true, mate. Nothing means anything. Anything means nothing. That's just rolling about in my head now. Fuck."
Joe, Wee Danny and the twins shared a puzzled look. Liam studied his bottle of Buckfast tonic wine. Joe hated that syrupy, medicine-tasting shite. The thought of drinking something a bunch of crusty old monks had stepped in turned his stomach. Liam didn't seem to mind. He gulped a quarter of the bottle in one go.
"Jesus, Liam," Eddie said, "take it easy or you'll be on your hoop. That stuff sends you loopy."
Wee Rockets Page 17
