With the main lights off and just four single bulbs hung around the hall, the inside of the club looked gloomy. It was quiet except for the slap, slap and squeak of the punch bag that Froggy was attempting to box. Froggy stopped boxing for a moment and cocked his ear as he thought he heard the door open and close. There was no further sound so he went back to his bag. Froggy then heard footsteps on the wooden floor. He was not frightened, he didn’t know how to be frightened. So he called out, ‘Hawoo? The club is over now. Bye, bye!’
Out of the darkness Froggy heard a voice he recognised, it was Sparrow. ‘It’s okay. It’s only me, Froggy!’
Froggy’s face lit up. As Sparrow stepped into the light Froggy ran over and hugged him. Then Froggy took up a boxing stance. ‘Spawoo! Box, Spawoo. Come on, I box yeh.’ Froggy began to get excited.
Sparrow put his hands over Froggy’s gloves. ‘Not now, Froggy, we box later!’
‘Later. In the minute. I box yeh. Knock your fuckin’ block off!’
‘Yeh, Froggy, in a minute. I want to ask you some questions first.’ Sparrow took Froggy and walked him to the edge of the room where he sat on a bench. The illumination from the street turned both their faces pale blue. Sparrow put his hand up to Froggy’s chin and turned Froggy to face him. He looked into Froggy’s eyes.
‘Now I want you to listen carefully, Froggy, and think for me, okay?’
Froggy nodded. ‘I’m thinkin’. Ooooh I’m thinkin’.’
‘Wait till I ask a question first, then think. Was there anybody askin’ about me here? Now think.’
Froggy turned his face away from Sparrow. He leaned over and put his head in his hands. He began to moan and groan, and then suddenly lifted up his head.
Sparrow’s eyes widened. ‘What? What is it, Froggy?’
Froggy smiled at him. ‘I’m finished thinkin’.’
‘And? Was there?’
‘No. Box now, Spawoo.’ Froggy stood up. ‘Fuckin’ kill yeh, knock yer fuckin’ head off. Box yeh. Box yeh.’
Sparrow stood up, a little frustrated, and pushed Froggy back down onto the bench. ‘No, Froggy, no boxin’. I want yeh to do me a favour.’
Froggy’s face grew sad. ‘Only messin’, Spawoo, won’t box your head off. Just box yeh, come on.’ Froggy had his arms outstretched. Sparrow pushed Froggy’s arms down and put an arm around him.
‘This is important, Froggy. I’m in big trouble. There are some people after me.’ Sparrow spoke very gravely.
‘Will I box them for yeh, Sparrow? I’ll knock their fuckin’ blocks off, I box them.’
Sparrow smiled, relaxed and hugged the man. ‘I know yeh would, Froggy, but not this time. Now, Froggy, this is a secret.’
Froggy’s eye’s widened. ‘Oooo! It’s a secret. Shush. Don’t tell Mammy.’
Sparrow held Froggy’s shoulders at arm’s length and looked sternly into his face. ‘Don’t tell anyone, nobody, understand?’
Froggy nodded. ‘Nobody, don’t tell nobody. And Mammy!’
‘Yeh okay, nobody and Mammy. Now, Froggy, what day is tomorrow?’
‘Mundey!’ Froggy answered.
Sparrow smiled at him. ‘That’s right. And in two days’ time what day will it be?’
Froggy began to count on his fingers. ‘Wensdy?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Good man, Froggy. Now, on Wednesday I want you to go up to my house. Eileen will give you a bag. Bring the bag back here and put it in your locker and don’t give it to anyone until you see me. Do you understand that, Froggy?’
‘Wensdy. Get the bag off Eileen. Keep in me locker, for you, for Spawoo.’
Sparrow hugged him. ‘You’re a good man, Froggy. And don’t tell anyone!’
Froggy put a finger to his lips. ‘Shush, it’s a secret.’
Sparrow stood up, followed by Froggy. Together they walked to the door. Sparrow unlocked it and opened it cautiously. He carefully looked right and left, turned to Froggy and whispered, ‘The coast is clear, see yeh, Froggy.’
Sparrow left, closing the door behind him. Froggy pulled off the gloves and tossed them on the floor. He walked to his hook on the wall and put on his large overcoat. As he got to the door Froggy switched off the remaining four lights. He opened the door. He looked left and right and whispered back into the room to nobody, ‘The coast is clear, shush, don’t tell Mammy.’ Froggy left.
* * *
Wilmount House, Malahide, 11.30pm
As one would expect, the success of Snuggstown’s most notorious criminal was reflected in the luxury of his surroundings. Wilmount House was a two-hundred-year-old country mansion build by Lord Percivil Wilmount. The land had not originally belonged to Lord Percivil; it had been the property of his cousin Thomas, Earl of Dunshaughlin. But with a carefully planned plot in March of seventeen ninety, Lord Percivil Wilmount arranged the assassination of his cousin, thus inheriting all the lands. So it was that the lands upon which Wilmount House had been built were acquired through conspiracy, skulduggery, and murder. Simon Williams must have felt right at home.
Angie Williams wasn’t so keen on the place. Coming from a council flat, a mansion takes some effort to get used to. Angie never bothered making the effort and confined her living space to the kitchen, one sitting room, and her bedroom. There were eight other bedrooms and copious other rooms downstairs, most of which Angie never saw from one week to the next. Around the main building of the house were numerous outer buildings, most of which were never used. That the house was not used to its full extent never bothered Simon, all he was concerned with was that he owned it. Simon was happy there, usually.
He wasn’t so happy tonight. Simon prided himself on remaining cool and calm, no matter how hairy situations got. This was because Simon was usually in control. In the case of Sparrow McCabe, though, Simon wasn’t in control any more. If Kieran Clancy managed to find Sparrow before Simon did, and got him to talk, Simon knew the game would be up. All he had worked for, all he had strived for, would be gone. He tried to reason the situation in his head. If Sparrow was going to talk to the police voluntarily he would have surrendered himself by now.
Simon was sitting at the kitchen table mulling all this over, and sitting in front of him was a cold cup of coffee and an overflowing ashtray. He heard Angie before he saw her. Angie had been having a bath and she was now making her way down the stairs to the kitchen. She was singing ‘Hands up, baby, hands up, Give me your heart, gimmie, gimmie.’ She came into the kitchen.
‘You look dreadful!’ Angie commented as she walked past Simon. She pushed open the door of the utility room and threw in the bundle of washing she was carrying. It didn’t land in any particular place, more all over the place. Angie’s maids and cleaners were well used to picking up after her. She closed the utility room door.
‘D’yeh want a hot cup of coffee?’ she asked Simon as she flicked the kettle on. Simon simply grunted. ‘Is that a yes or a no?’
‘Yes, fuckin’ yes!’ Simon snapped.
‘Jaysus, who stole your marbles?’ Angie said as she stretched to the cupboard to take out two fresh mugs.
‘Sparrow McCabe,’ Simon said through clenched teeth.
‘Oh him, that little shit!’
Slowly Simon turned in his chair to look at this wife of his. She was unscrewing the top of a coffee jar cautiously, as if afraid to break a finger nail. He spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘That little shit, as you call him, can put me behind bars if we don’t find him quickly. And if I go inside, Angie dear, you go back to your mother’s, because I’m fucked if I’m gonna be inside at the government’s pleasure while you’re out here enjoying all of this.’ Simon waved a hand around the room as if everything he owned were in that room.
‘Well, excuse me for breathin’!’ Angie retorted. While she made the two cups of coffee and padded around the kitchen in her bare feet there was no more conversation between the two. It wasn’t until she had placed Simon’s mug in front of him and sat on the far side of the table with her own mug, and lit
a cigarette, that she spoke again.
‘Well, if you can’t get to him, why don’t you make him come to you?’ she said, and scrunched up her face trying to get the top off a nail-varnish bottle.
Simon looked carefully at Angie. He knew full well that the woman he had married was a complete bimbo. But having said that, sometimes, just sometimes, she came out with a little gem. So Simon pursued her thoughts.
‘What do you mean, Angie love?’
‘Go after his wife and his kid. That’ll flush him out, wherever he is.’
Slowly Simon smiled. He really had married the most selfish bitch in the world. She was right! He got up and went to the kitchen counter where the telephone was. He punched in the number at the other end of which he knew Teddy Morgan would be. The phone rang; he waited. As he waited he looked at his reflection in the window. I’m not bad, he thought, for fifty-two. He ran his fingers through his hair.
* * *
Sparrow McCabe was three days on the run before he decided on his final hiding place. He spent the first three nights in doorways and alleys, but never sleeping, afraid that somebody would stumble upon him. He knew he would have to get somewhere that was safe and secure. Somewhere dry, if not warm. And somewhere that the police or Simon Williams would never think of looking.
This shed was the perfect place. It was secure, as the door had a bolt on the inside, a good strong bolt. On his first night there Sparrow had scouted the entire area to plan his escape route should the door be assaulted. He stood on one of the bare beams and loosened four tiles in the roof in readiness for a quick escape, although he believed no-one would actually look there. From the small, two-foot by two-foot window in the shed he could see the main house. Naturally, if anyone were going to call to the place they would call to the main house first; this would give Sparrow an opportunity to use his escape route long before they even thought of looking in the shed.
There was an old armchair and a hard kitchen chair in the shed. He slept in the armchair with his feet up on the hard chair. He watched every morning as the staff of the main house let themselves in. There were five staff. Two cleaners, two maids and one laundry woman. Betty, one of the maids, was the boss, and you could see by her movements that she liked being boss. When the staff would arrive every morning Betty would take the door-key from under the back door mat, insert it in the door, and then Sparrow could see her hurry through the kitchen to get to the alarm panel and punch in the code. Betty had thirty seconds to do this before the alarm went off, but she ran anyway, not realising how long thirty seconds actually was. Once the alarm code had been entered, the rest of the staff would follow her into the house. The alarm code was four, five, one, three, the first four digits of the house-owner’s phone. Sparrow knew this.
Sometimes, before the staff arrived, Sparrow would slip across to the big house. He would let himself in, turn off the alarm and raid the fridge. After a hearty breakfast he would leave the dishes on the table exactly as they were, for the maids would clean up after him when they came. He would then reset the alarm and leave.
Sparrow was looking out of the shed window this night, waiting for the occupants of the house to go to bed. Not until the entire house was in darkness would Sparrow sleep, just in case. As he watched now he could see Simple Simon standing at the kitchen sink, looking at his reflection in the window and running his fingers through his hair. Sparrow smiled to himself and thought: He’ll never think of looking here.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tuesday, 24 December
The Coffey home, Snuggstown, 9.15pm
‘IT’S SNOWIN’, IT’S SNOWIN!’ Mickey called as he burst into his Granny’s kitchen. Eileen was standing at the sink washing dishes after a late tea, and her mother Dolly was drying. Dolly leaned over and looked out the kitchen window.
‘So it is, love!’ She caressed the boy’s head and smiled.
The snow was falling lightly outside, the final ingredient of a perfect Christmas, Eileen thought, though it was far from perfect for her. The last contact she had had with Sparrow was that phone call when he asked her to pack a duffle bag and give it to Froggy. The following Wednesday Froggy had collected the duffle bag in silence. She had not heard from Sparrow since and she prayed he was all right. But if he was out in this he’d have a hard time. Young Mickey ran out of the kitchen again and into the front room where he could kneel up on the back of an armchair and watch the snow falling under the light of the street lamps outside Dolly’s home.
‘Christmas Eve and that child with a father on the run. I don’t know how you put up with that little shit-bag!’ Dolly said, the dishes clattering as she put them away.
Eileen had had this goading for the last fourteen days. Each time her mother started on it, Eileen defended her husband, but it was wearing her down.
‘He’s not a shit-bag, Mammy. He’s my husband, and I love him, believe it or not!’
‘Well, if love is blind, you need a white stick.’
Young Mickey burst into the kitchen again. ‘Ma! If the snow sticks tomorrow can I build a snowman?’
‘Of course you can, love,’ Eileen answered without even turning to the child. As quickly as he had entered Mickey left again.
‘He’s a gangster, that’s what he is,’ Dolly renewed the attack.
‘He’s no gangster, Mammy, you know that and I know that,’ Eileen replied as she put the last plate on the draining board. She picked up a towel and began to wipe her hands.
‘Then why was he working for Simon Williams?’ Dolly asked pointedly.
Eileen looked at her, fury in her eyes. ‘Because nobody else would give him a job, that’s why!’ Then she calmed down. ‘Look, Mammy, just drop it, will yeh?’ She sat down at the kitchen table and reached for her cigarette packet.
‘I’m tellin’ yeh – the sooner yeh leave that tramp the better! He’s no good for yeh! He’s no good for anyone and I don’t care what yeh say, he is a gangster!’ Dolly threw down the tea-towel on the table.
‘My Dad is not a gangster!’ It was Mickey, standing in the kitchen doorway.
Dolly clipped Mickey across the ear. ‘Shut up you, big ears! Or Santa Claus won’t come to yeh!’
‘Mammy, for God’s sake!’ Eileen said as she went to her son and gave him a hug. ‘It’s all right, Mickey, Granny’s just upset, that’s all. Go on into the front room and watch the snow falling.’
‘I haven’t got big ears,’ Mickey said defiantly as he made his way to the front room.
‘Yeh have!’ Dolly called after him.
Eileen sat down, exasperated. ‘D’yeh know, sometimes, Mammy, you’re a bigger kid than he is!’
* * *
The black Jaguar slowed and eventually came to a stop across the road from Mrs Coffey’s house on Eagle Grove. It was quiet on the street, the only sound being the soft purr of the car engine and the swish of the wiper blades.
‘Is that it?’ Teddy asked.
‘Yeh, that’s it. She’s staying there with her mother!’ Bubbles replied.
Teddy was unsure, as Bubbles wasn’t exactly the most reliable for intelligence. Suddenly at the front-room window he saw a boy’s face. There was no mistaking whose son this was.
‘Yeh. There’s the boy!’ Teddy said, confirming Bubbles’s intelligence. The smell of petrol in the car was sickening. Bubbles turned the milk bottle upside-down to make sure the petrol soaked well into the wick.
‘Go on, now!’ Teddy ordered.
Bubbles left the car.
* * *
From where Eileen was sitting at the kitchen table she could see right out to the front door. Through the bubbled glass window in the door she noticed what seemed like a tiny light in the distance. It began to tumble in the air. Seeing the puzzled look on her daughter’s face Dolly turned to look too. Just as she did there was a thud as something hit it, and then a whoosh as the door became engulfed in flames.
‘MICKEY!’ Eileen screamed. She ran to the front room. Passing the front door she could
feel the heat on the side of her face. She grabbed Mickey under one arm and began to half-carry, half-drag him out of the room. As she re-entered the hall the heat shattered the window. Shards of glass went everywhere as it exploded. When she got to the kitchen Dolly was standing, frozen, staring at the front door.
‘Get out, Mammy,’ Eileen screamed and pushed her mother towards the back door. Within seconds they were in the back garden. Mickey was crying. By the time they made their way around to the front of the house some of Mrs Coffey’s neighbours had already vaulted into the garden and were beating at the flames with old clothing. Nearly as quickly as they had started, the flames began to die. The front of the house was blackened up as far as the bedroom windows. The paint on the front door had bubbled and scorched, but there seemed to be no permanent damage done. The broken window could easily be replaced. Eileen and Dolly stood in the front garden holding the boy between them. Dolly was looking at her flame-damaged home. Eileen was looking out to the street.
‘Oh my God!’ Dolly said, with a tremor in her voice.
‘The bastards!’ Eileen mumbled as she watched the dark Jaguar drive slowly past the house.
* * *
The McCabe home, Snuggstown, 11.30pm
Kieran Clancy was sitting at the table in the McCabe sitting room. Michael Malone was in the armchair. Malone leaned over to the fireplace and placed another few lumps of coal on the newly lit fire. They both stood up as Eileen entered the room.
‘Is he okay?’ Kieran asked.
‘He’s gone off to sleep. I’m not sure whether he got a fright or whether he’s just afraid that Santa won’t come tonight because he’s changed houses at such short notice.’ Eileen gave a tiny smile.
‘Kids! They’re unbelievable.’ Kieran laughed.
Eileen just nodded.
‘What about you, are you all right?’ Kieran asked.
‘Yeh, I’m fine, I suppose. Did you light that fire?’ she asked.
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