She stares fondly at Alex as he stands facing out to sea with his hands in his pockets. He takes a deep breath of fresh air and exhales slowly, as a slight smile plays on his lips. Being back in Ireland has done him the world of good too. He has never been happier or felt freer and Abbey hopes more than anything that this newly acquired inner peace will last once they return home, despite knowing in her heart that it most probably won’t.
Her phone vibrates loudly in her pocket and pulls her abruptly out of her thoughts. It is a message from Lucy. She has been texting much more frequently in the last few days. It is obvious that she is beginning to struggle with the separation and desperately wants things to return to normal. It can’t be easy for her - or any of them back home - and Abbey feels a crushing sense of guilt at the fact that she is so happy here and that part of her secretly never wants it to be over.
Towards the end of the first week Darren had phoned Alex to let him know that Tom is awake and out of intensive care. He is still in trouble, still looking at a lengthy prison sentence, but he is alive… and the relief that both she and Alex felt in that moment was truly overwhelming. It was as though a huge weight had been lifted and it was then that the change truly happened in both of them; when they finally felt as though things might turn out OK after all. But it is far too easy to feel that way here, away from everything, surrounded by the solitude of the beautiful Irish coast. Abbey wishes things could stay like this forever but no matter what, reality is never far behind.
“What’s wrong?” The alarm in Alex’s voice startles her.
“Nothing… it’s just Lucy texting again, saying she misses us…” She smiles casually and rolls her eyes, making light of the situation. She hasn’t told Alex how much Lucy is struggling. She doesn’t want to say anything that might affect his good mood and bring him down. He deserves a break from all the drama and from having to look after everyone all the time.
“What’s happened? Is she OK?”
“She’s fine Alex, nothing’s happened…” Abbey whispers soothingly, and he relaxes slightly as he turns and saunters over towards a group of rocks that are nestled into the sand. He perches on the edge of the largest one and runs his hands through his hair, resting his elbows on his knees as Abbey sits down next to him. She gently reaches up and strokes his back as he shakes his head apologetically.
“They’re fine Alex. You need to stop panicking; they can take care of themselves…” Abbey’s voice is soft and calming and Alex seems to relax further, but it is clear that something is still troubling him. Abbey recognizes the look on his face and she knows all too well what it means. If he wants to talk he will, but it is best not to push him or try and force the conversation. Sure enough after a minute or two, he reluctantly speaks again.
“I just keep thinking…” He sighs, “Tom waking up, getting better… It feels too good to be true. I’m worried that because he’s OK someone else will get hurt or something else will happen to fuck things up… and everything will fall apart for real this time. It’s weird, but no matter how hard I try I just can’t shake this fucking feeling…”
“It’s not always bad news Alex…”
“Yeah…?” He laughs, cynically, “It is in my experience…”
“I know you feel responsible for them, but…”
“I am responsible for them…” He interrupts, “They’re my family Abbey. It’s my job to look out for them. We look out for each other and I feel like this whole fucking mess is my fault. They’re all suffering because of my choices; because of the things I’ve done… how the hell is that fair?”
“They know the drill. Isn’t that what you guys are always telling me? That you’re all in it together? Why do you think that suddenly doesn’t apply when things get tough? They all understand that this had to be done Alex and it’s only a temporary situation…” Abbey tries to sound enthusiastic and reassuring, but it doesn’t help that a huge part of her wishes that this actually was a permanent solution.
“I just can’t believe how fucked up everything is now and it’s all because of the life I lead, the things I’ve done… and for what? What the hell is it worth?”
“It will all work out… I promise…” Abbey smiles half-heartedly as she rests her head on Alex’s shoulder unsure of what else to say, and he sighs again wearily, unable to shift his forlorn mood.
“I need to fix this Abs… I need to do better. I can’t keep living like this. Constantly on edge, waiting for more trouble to kick off, always looking over my shoulder. It’s time to make a change…”
“What kind of change…?”
“A change so that I can live my life like a normal fucking person. Cut back on my dealing; cut ties with the bars and clubs, then maybe I can speak to Moorland and eventually I’ll be able to sack it off all together? I can get a real job. I was a bar manager in Dublin for a year, maybe I’ll start that up again, I don’t know. I’m just done with it… I’m through with surviving. I want to live. I want a normal life with no bullshit or danger. I want to be back with my friends and I want a future… with you…”
“The small town life…?” Abbey whispers as she smiles up at him with tears in her eyes. It is a revelation to hear Alex talk this way and to know that he not only wants this to be over but wants to move forward, to start fresh with a clean slate. Surely if they both feel like this then it doesn’t matter what part of the world they are in? They can take their quiet, small town life back home to the City with them?
“Something like that…” He smiles shyly, “You’re the first person to make me think I can have that kind of life Abbey… like I can be more than this… like I’m worth more…”
“God, you are Alex… you are worth so much more than what you see of yourself. You’re a good man, I know you are… and I love you…”
“I love you too…” He sighs, his voice filled with longing and relief as he leans forward and kisses Abbey softly on the lips, “That’s why you deserve so much more than this. You deserve better. I keep talking about how important friends and family are and I feel like I’ve kept you from yours…”
“That’s not true…” Abbey frowns defensively, a little surprised at the way the conversation has turned, “The choices I’ve made regarding my family I’ve made by myself…”
“But I haven’t exactly helped. I haven’t tried to convince you to get back in touch with them and sort things out. Because I’m fucking selfish when it comes to us and I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be. I’ll deal with my family my own way Alex, you don’t get to feel responsible for that too…”
“OK, I guess not. But your brother reached out to you, maybe it’s time to try and fix what’s broken? Being back here, with all the memories… I can’t tell you how much I miss my Ma. I’d give anything to be able to speak to her again. Despite all the mistakes she’s made, your mum is still your mum Abbey… try not to forget that…”
“OK Jeremy Kyle, I’ll do my best…” Abbey quips as she rolls her eyes insolently and Alex bursts into laughter. His mood instantly lifts and he is back to happy, smiling care free Alex just like that. The man is still so unpredictable… emotional roulette.
“Watch it or you’ll be in the sea good and proper this time…” He jokes, standing up and holding his hand out to Abbey. He pulls her to her feet and throws his arm around her shoulders as he kisses her forehead. The sun has almost set and the chill breeze whips off the waves, dancing around them as they walk entwined with one another, sheltering from the cold.
Abbey is quiet, running over the conversation in her mind and trying to understand what it all means. From what she can gather, there is hope. Hope for the future, for their future. That’s how it feels. Both she and Alex appear to be on the same page and she is excited about the prospect of a simpler life and a brand new start. For the first time in two weeks, Abbey doesn’t feel quite so dismayed at the idea of going home and that is definitely, a good sign.
There is a loud bang as Marcus breaks thr
ough a panel of glass in the communal door of Alex’s apartment block and it shatters noisily to the floor. He waits for a moment, listening out for the slightest sound or movement but no one stirs. He carefully reaches through and unhooks the latch, pushing his way into the lobby followed closely by three of his henchmen.
It had taken Marcus a while to find out exactly which flat Alex calls home, but after trying and failing numerous times he’d had the ingenious idea of dressing one of his men as the local postman.
It may sound ridiculous, but it got results. Tommo had waited around the side of the building for the actual post to be delivered, then managed to sneak his way inside and carefully check every single one of the pigeon holes situated at the bottom of the stairs.
His fake uniform successfully fooled the several occupants who had walked passed him in the hall; all of them completely oblivious to the fact that he was actually stealing post instead of delivering it. Just as he was losing hope of finding anything, there sticking out in plain sight, was a bill, addressed to Mr A Matthews of flat number 38 - 9th floor. It was the information that Marcus had been waiting for and he was eager to make his move as quickly as possible. He had devised a plan, run it by his men, and now here he is, breaking and entering at 3:00am and bristling with excitement at the confrontation to come.
The four of them - all dressed in black clothing - slide silently into the lift and Tommo presses the button for the ninth floor. A minute later the doors ping open and none of them speak as they make their way stealthily down the hall. They check the numbers on each door as they pass, quickly reaching the end of the corridor and flat number 38.
A bitter smile spreads across Marcus’ face and he pauses to savour the moment before nodding to Tommo and Gazza. They step forward without hesitation and pull a large sledgehammer out of the duffel bag that the other lackey has been carrying for them. He dutifully keeps watch as they prepare to break down the door, waiting for Marcus’ command.
“WAKEY WAKEY ALEX, RISE AND SHINE…” Marcus shouts with glee, and with one swing they destroy the latch and break the door handle clean off. As they charge into the kitchen Marcus’ excitement instantly disappears and his face drops as he stands rooted to the spot. The other three flank him on either side while staring silently in open mouthed shock.
“Well, well… Marcus Holt. It’s certainly been a while…” Sat at the glass table like a civilized host greeting a guest at a party, Chris Moorland slowly crosses his legs and rests his hands in his lap. He has a polite smile on his face, but it is simply there to mask his true intent, “I think we have a lot to talk about don’t you?” He asks, with a hint of menace.
The other seven seats situated around the glass table are taken up by Moorlands men, all of whom sit in a stony silence with absolutely no emotion showing on their faces. They are completely impassive.
“Moorland…” Marcus just about manages to regain his composure but his voice sounds shaky and uncertain, “to what do we owe this pleasure?” He asks.
“I think you know the answer to that Marcus…”
“I’m unsure as to why you’re here, Christopher. Surely any dispute I have with young Alex is between the two of us. It doesn’t really concern you…” A wide, genuine smile spreads across Moorland’s face and he gestures to the man who is sitting in the seat across from him. He instantly vacates the chair and circles the table so that he is standing behind Moorlands right shoulder.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Moorland invites politely and Marcus cautiously makes his way over, pulling the seat further back and away from the table. Tommo and Gazza remain loyally by his side but they are starting to look increasingly uncomfortable, “And you… shut the door will you? We don’t want to disturb the neighbours if we can help it, do we?” He smiles a sinister smile and the lackey looks awkwardly to Marcus who simply nods in agreement. As the door clicks shut Moorland turns his full attention to Holt and ignoring everyone else in the room, they stare at each other for the longest time. Moorland is the first to speak.
“You’re messing with my interest’s old friend…” He claims in a threatening whisper.
“I’m here to get my revenge, revenge I clearly deserve…” Marcus instantly snaps back, gesturing towards his face.
“As far as I’m aware, you were the one who dug your own grave… or, scarred your own face, shall we say? You came after him, he got you the money, which to be honest I certainly wouldn’t have done… but young Alex clearly felt as though he owed you in some way. You both agreed the debt was paid and then you went back on your word, you pushed your luck… this was the result…” He waves his hand casually, as if they are sat chatting about the weather.
“My dispute with Alex goes back a damn sight longer than you know…”
“He filled me in…” Moorland shrugs, “Told me how he left you, how he’d had enough of your unpredictable ways. It’s a free country Marcus; he’s entitled to do that…”
“And if he did the same to you? Cut you off, ended your business relationship without warning? How would that sit with you?”
“I certainly wouldn’t turn it into a personal vendetta if that’s what you mean?”
“Of course you wouldn’t…” Marcus scoffs sarcastically, and Moorland tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. His patience is limited and it is wearing thinner by the minute. Marcus Holt is without doubt the complete polar opposite of him. The way he conducts himself and the way he handles his business. His approach couldn’t be more different. They have known each other for years and have inevitably crossed paths before, but he has made a point of staying away from this wannabe gangster and his amateur ways as much as possible. This whole debacle is proof that he is clearly no professional and Moorland is highly irritated that he has had to travel all the way from London to deal with him. It is a waste of his time and an extreme inconvenience.
“This ends now…” Moorland states and Marcus immediately goes on the defensive as his self-assured confidence returns.
“It ends, when I say it does…” He grins.
“No. It ends now, Marcus. If I were you I would accept that and disappear quietly, because I am less than thrilled about having to leave my home and my family to travel up here and deal with you. I’m annoyed at the fact it’s 3 o’clock in the morning and I’m sat in this kitchen conversing with a fucking mediocre halfwit who isn’t even worth my time when I could be in bed with my wife…”
“Mediocre halfwit…?” Marcus snarls as he rises to his feet, and Moorland stands too as the rest of his men rise in unison beside him, preparing themselves for a possible fight but still displaying no emotion what so ever. The tension in the room is palpable and the forced civility that has been displayed so far is teetering on a knife edge.
“That’s right…” Moorland confirms as he walks around the table, standing face to face with Marcus. He towers over him, his presence powerful and domineering.
“And what if I refuse to disappear quietly…?” Marcus smirks with slightly less authority than before, and Moorland leans forward so that the two of them are standing just inches apart, staring angrily as his lip curls back.
“I’ll make you…” He whispers and Marcus doesn’t respond. He simply takes a subtle step backwards to widen the gap between them and swallows hard, “You’re a little fish in a tiny fucking pond, my friend. You don’t even come close to being in my league and you know it. Alex Matthews is one of my investments… if anything happens to him, my business suffers and that is not something I will tolerate, do you understand me?” Marcus nods slowly and Moorland’s demeanour quickly slips back into mock friendliness as he ushers them through the kitchen, “Well then, I’m glad we all understand each other. It’s late, I’m sure you fella’s ought to be getting home…?”
Moorland smiles as he opens the front door and gestures politely out into the hallway. The lackey can’t get out of there quick enough and he is followed closely by Tommo and Gazza, who are trying hard to keep their tough guy imag
es intact whilst being completely out of their depth. Marcus is the last to approach the door and his anger is visibly raging below the surface, yet he is unable to act. He knows - although it pains him to admit it - that Moorland is right. He is far more powerful and connected and he is definitely the wrong man to cross. His revenge will have to wait until the day Alex no longer has Moorland’s protection, which could be years down the line, but he will bide his time. He will not forget this.
“If I have to come up here again because of you there’ll be no pleasantries or friendly conversation around the dinner table. I am only going to warn you once. Stay away from Matthew’s. Do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear…” Marcus snarls through gritted teeth before striding furiously out of the flat, his face twisted in anger and his fists clenched at his side.
To Alex’s own amazement, he has managed to stop obsessing about what is taking place over 200 miles away in Leeds. When he and Abbey arrived in Ireland it was all he could think about and focus on, yet now, after a relaxing couple of weeks and receiving the unbelievably good news about Tom’s improvement, he has decided to take a more laid back approach. ‘What will be, will be’. There is little he can do about it now anyway, tucked away with Abbey in this tiny little corner of the world.
He has always had an extremely hard time putting his trust in other people, especially when trusting them to sort out his problems, but this time, he had been left with no other choice. He knows that Moorland will do right by him, but his friends are the only people he believes in enough to rely on completely; his friends and Abbey. She is the one person he has opened up to more than anyone else in his life. She has helped him, fixed him almost, although he is still perfectly flawed on many varying levels and probably always will be. But he feels different with her, like he isn’t battling through this shitty life alone anymore. She picks him up when he spirals down, calls him on his bullshit and makes him laugh when he needs it the most.
Even Angels Fall Page 31
