Luke would often find himself standing, his upper body naked, in the centre of a grand room. As usual, the figures were dressed in long, black robes, their heads covered by hoods with only a slit in the material where their eyes were visible. They would watch him without movement, waiting for their guest to make the first move perhaps. Behind them, at the far end of this grand room, there would stand a door. Tonight was no different. The dream was playing out as it always had done.
“What do you want with me?” Luke asked.
No reply.
One of the figures, the tallest amongst them, stepped forward. Holding out his arm he began to point towards the door inviting Luke to go forward. Luke stayed where he was, reluctant to leave his spot. Only when the sound of faint cries began to emanate from the room beyond the door did he begin to venture forward. They were familiar cries too. He’d heard them many times before over the years. They were his brother’s cries. Now that he looked closer, as the figures before him began to part and the door would open, he could make out the outline of a small boy playing in this second, smaller room. He was sitting, this boy, next to the door, in fact, with a myriad of toys and clothes strewn around him. He was playing with a set of cars smashing them into one another and adding his own sound effects as he did.
“Elliot?”
Momentarily, Elliot looked up from his toys and glanced towards his older brother.
“Elliot?” Luke repeated, his voice stronger now, no longer a whisper. “Can you see me, Elliot?”
The child smiled and went back to playing with his toys. Slowly, as he did, the doors began to close before him.
“Elliot!” Luke now screamed forgetting his earlier trepidation and racing headlong towards the door. It slammed shut as it always had done a second before he could reach it.
“Elliot! Can you hear me, Elliot?” he screamed into the wooden panelling, his hands beating a tattoo against the wood. Long silence ensued. Luke put his ear up against the door. Above the sound of his own breathing, he could hear Elliot still playing with his toy cars. He could hear them being smashed together again and again as if each collision was following some strange set rhythm.
“Elliot?” he called again, this time his voice softer and with less conviction. Once again, there was no reply. “I’m so sorry Lee. I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you. I should have kept you close.”
Luke could hear another sound now. It was the sound of cars, real cars, approaching from behind the door. He could hear the sound of their heavy engines as they approached and the terrible screech of their brakes as one or all had suddenly lost control.
“Elliot!”
There was no point in shouting out his brother’s name. He’d had this dream many times over the years and it always ended the same way. Luke would push open the doors to find the cars had already ploughed into the unsuspecting crowd, his brother’s body, crushed and bleeding amongst the unfortunate throng.
“I should have stayed with you, Elliot,” Luke mumbled again. “It was my fault. I could have saved you.”
The screaming had begun by this point. In his dream state Luke could hear the cries of shock and agony from the accident’s multiple victims. He was already putting his hands against the door frame preparing himself to open them when he suddenly snapped awake.
His room was still in shadow. The lamp had been switched off and only the faint glimmer of moonlight allowed him to make out the room’s cramped interior. He sat himself up in the bed, his body tense and covered in a thin film of sweat. He felt a cold gust of wind enter the room and squinted his eyes in search of the bay window. Indeed, the window had been opened during his sleep, the curtains billowing now into the room with each new gust. He could make out the tiny balcony beyond, the table and chairs his Mother had bought him for his last birthday just visible in amongst this swirl of angry curtain. There was another shape too. He could see Lena’s slender frame standing beside the tables and chairs, her tiny back facing him as she looked absently out across South London’s sleeping skyline.
“Lena?”
No answer. No movement. It was as if she had been turned to stone by the wind. Luke climbed from the bed and walked over towards the curtains stopping at the point where their soft fabric had begun to flick against his naked body.
“Lena?” he whispered again. She didn’t move, continuing to gaze knowingly, silently into the twilight city. Luke stepped back from the curtains. His head was still spinning from the earlier dream and he was craving water. He walked into the bedroom’s adjacent bathroom and stood for a second before the bathroom mirror. He then ran the tap and splashed himself with cold water. His face looked haggard. His eyes were a bloodshot red and whenever he turned his head too quickly a sharp pain would burn into the side of his neck and run down his entire right arm. He splashed a second wave of even icier water across his face and then dabbed himself down with a towel. He was looking into the bathroom mirror once again. He could see the bedroom in its reflection. He could see the billowing curtains too. He was turning the tap closed when he noticed Lena returning to bed. He kept his eyes on the bathroom mirror as she slowly slipped beneath the covers. She had, he reasoned, been asleep as she’d stood outside on the balcony, the troubles on her mind having put her out there. He switched off the bathroom lights and made his way back into the bedroom. He noticed a missed call on his mobile and figured Benny had got himself into some sort of trouble. Only Benny would call him at four in the morning. He slipped the bed’s covers over his own head and promised himself to give Benny a call after a few hours’ sleep. Sleep came easy. There were no dreams this time. Luke was thankful.
~ ~ ~
“What kept you?” Benny demanded as he took a seat opposite his oldest friend.
“Relax. I had a heavy night.”
“I think my night was heavier than yours! I wish you’d learn to answer your damned phone!”
“You called me at four in the morning Benny! What do you expect?”
“A real friend is on call twenty-four-seven!”
“Ha! Let me know when you meet him.”
Benny smiled sarcastically. He didn’t look in good shape. Someone had worked him over.
He had bruises on both cheeks and one of his front teeth had been knocked out. He also had a collection of long, fresh cuts running zig-zag across his forehead as if someone had just decided to go ahead and play draughts with penknives on him.
“So, which husband caught you this time?”
“That’s not funny.”
It was. Luke chuckled to himself.
“You don’t even ask me if I’m okay. I could have been killed last night.”
“You look pretty alive from where I’m sitting.”
“No thanks to you. You could have at least answered my call.”
“I was busy. I told you. I couldn’t just drop everything.”
They were back at the Flanagan’s. Luke had been sitting in one of the booths nursing a cold beer for over an hour before Benny had stumbled in. He’d been wearing a pair of thick shades which had fooled no one. Hiding beneath the dark rims, the even darker bruises were clearly visible. Lena had left Luke’s flat before he’d even woken. She’d left him a one-line note on his bedside table along with a set of numbers to a safe deposit box. The note had simply read “Expenses.” She’d also scribbled down the address of the hotel where he’d find the safety deposit box. He’d woke early afternoon. He figured she’d slipped out not long after sunrise and would be back at her Mother’s hotel. He was angry at first that she hadn’t bothered to say goodbye but figured she hadn’t wanted to wake him. He’d call her later that evening. First he had to tend to Benny.
“Can you at least buy me a beer?” Benny complained, feeling his lower lip which had been split open badly. The blood had long since dried. There were drops of blood on his shirt.
“Usual?”
Benny nodded.
“Your tab is getting long, friend.”
“Just
go get me the beer.”
The Flanagan’s was empty. It was late afternoon and wouldn’t fill until at least ten that evening. Ronan was out on business and had left his daughter to tend the bar. Megan was only twenty-one years old but was already streetwise beyond her years. Her stern and uncompromising expression put people on the back foot straight away. She had, what the local’s liked to call, a resting bitch face. You had to be on your toes with Megan from the off. She had pale skin and brown freckles like her father and long red hair that curled all the way down to her shoulders. Her eyes were bright green. They were cold eyes, however, which often showed very little signs of compassion. Although she’d been born and bred in London, she still spoke with a faint Irish accent. Her father would never let his children forget their roots. She had a tattoo of a tiny green shamrock across her right wrist bone.
“What do you want?”
“Lager.”
“Over your head or in a glass?”
“Nice to see you too, Luke. How are things? Oh, that’s great…”
“You’ve been hustling in my hall again.”
“Your father’s hall.”
“I don’t want to see any crap like that going on while I’m on duty. Do you hear me? You could get us closed down.”
Luke nodded.
“Sure. I hear you Megan. Loud and clear. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Yes. You could think about paying off your bar tab. It’s been over two months now.”
“I’ve already squared everything with your Dad, Megan. Can you just be a good girl and go fetch my beer?”
Megan thought about snapping back, but having endured similar sparring matches with Luke over the years, she simply bit her lip and poured him the lager.”
“Thank you.”
“Three sixty.”
“Put it on the tab,” Luke replied with a grin.
“Sure. I’ll ask Dad to put interest on it.”
Luke made his way back to Benny.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened?”
Benny almost finished off the beer at the first attempt.
“I’m such a lost cause, Luke. There’s really no hope for me brother.”
“We know this already Benny. Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”
“I owe the wrong people a lot of money, Luke.”
“Go on.”
“I told you I was in debt. I didn’t tell you how much.”
“I thought you had everything under control?”
“I did. I mean, everything was great for a time. I got cocky, that’s all. I started betting on the horses again. I lost everything. I couldn’t pay the rent.”
“Smart move.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me you have to apologise too, is it? I take it you went and borrowed money?”
“Right.”
“Who from?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this now Luke.”
“Who?” Luke demanded, taking the beer away from Benny.
Benny went to grab it back, but Luke was too quick. “I want to know names, Benny. I want to know who you went to see and how much you owe. Do you understand?”
Benny nodded. He was older than Luke by one year but had always looked up to him as an older brother. Where he was reckless and useless with money, Luke had always been able to keep one step ahead. It was a knack Benny had tried to learn from his friend over the years but had never been able to master. He was too impulsive. He rarely thought about the consequences, especially where money was concerned. Money slipped through his fingers like sand. It had always been that way.
“Well?” Luke persisted, helping himself to the beer. It was ice cold.
“I went to see the Gallagher brothers.”
“You did what?”
“You heard me. Do I have to repeat myself?”
Benny had started to dab his lip with one of the table napkins. The blood had long since dried. He was trying to illicit sympathy, but it wouldn’t work. Resting his elbows across the table, Luke leant forward.
“You went to see the Gallagher brothers?”
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
“I was in a mess Luke. What else could I do? I didn’t want to hassle you for the money. I knew you were struggling too. I can’t get a loan from anywhere else. My credit history is worse than yours. What else could I do?”
Luke rolled his eyes.
“You should have come to me, Benny. I would have done something for you.”
Benny dropped his head into his large, flabby hands.
“I was ashamed. I knew you’d go mad after the last time I fell off the rails. I thought if I could just keep betting, my luck would turn. I swear to God, Luke. I was going to pay off all my debts and then take you for a lad’s night out! I was thinking we could go up Piccadilly. You know, like we used to back in the day? We could hit Soho and then take in a couple of casinos. I was going to splash the cash, Luke. You would have had a great time!”
Luke pushed the beer back to his friend. He then sat looking at him in silence.
“Say something Luke. Please. I hate it when you just sit there and look at me like I’m the most useless lump you’ve ever seen. That’s what my dad used to do. It makes me feel very uncomfortable.”
Luke had first met Benny aged fifteen. They had grown up on the same dilapidated South London estate and had bunked off the same schools. Although the story tended to differ according to who you asked first, it was generally accepted by both men that Benny had been caught cheating at cards and was on the verge of a getting a beating when Luke had shown up. Luke had always disliked bullies. He especially hated large groups of bullies who liked to pick on smaller, solitary prey. Benny had been playing cards with a group of lads who lived in the same estate. They were all part of the same gang, Benny being the exception. Luke had been passing and had spotted the group loitering inside one of the estate’s concrete stairwells. Benny had already been pinned up against the stairwell wall. The tallest amongst the gang, a thick-set Jamaican lad, had already landed a flurry of blows across Benny’s face. He was preparing to land a second collection when Luke had raced over and knocked him out cold with a single uppercut to his jaw. The remaining gang had fled the second after their leader had been toppled. Benny and Luke had been friends ever since.
“What should I do Luke?”
“How much do you owe them?”
“A grand,” Benny replied sheepishly, reaching out for his beer. Luke kept firm hold on the glass. The Gallagher brothers were notorious for running protection rackets and money lending scams in and around South Norwood. They were young, ambitious and dangerous because of this. Benny had made a big mistake.
“That’s a lot of money Benny.”
“I know. I was in a hole.”
“So you keep saying.”
“Will you help me, Luke? I don’t know what to do. I’m screwed if I don’t pay them by next week.”
Luke necked what remained of Benny’s beer. He thought of Lena and allowed himself a cautious smile.
“I think I’ll be able to rustle up the readies Benny. You’re a very lucky boy.”
“Really? You sure? You’d be an absolute lifesaver if you could, Luke!”
“I have something in the pipeline. Let’s just put it that way.”
“The girl you were with the other day? The girl who came here. Is she anything to do with this?”
“That’s for me to know.”
“Right. Sure. I understand Luke. Anything you say. Just as long as you can help me out.”
“I’ll need to make a phone call. Leave it with me, okay? I’ll come and see you before the week is out.”
“You going now?”
“You want me to help you, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, I need to start straight away,” Luke went on, slipping on his jacket. “I’d suggest you go back to your flat, Benny, and keep
your head down. Don’t answer the door either. Your friends might decide to collect early.”
“Sure. I understand. You’ll call me when you know everything, right?”
“Right,” Luke finished leaving Benny at the table and walking towards the exit. Lena would be his next port of call.
4 - Box 1034
From King’s Cross Luke jumped on the number ninety-three bus to Crouch End. The sky was grey that afternoon and rain spat continuously at the bus windows as it wound its way towards Crouch End. Luke got off next to the clock tower and walked steadily in the direction of the Chatterton Hotel. When the rain became too much he stepped into a dusty second hand book shop and lowered himself into a large green settee which he’d found beside the door to the store. He picked up an old copy of the Maltese Falcon and began to read. At the far end of the book shop Luke noticed a dog basket. From behind one of the tall book shelves a Great Dane had then lumbered into view, its tail wagging ever so slowly as he had climbed wearily back into his basket. Luke smiled. With a dog that size the owner wouldn’t need to worry about thieves. Luke waited until the rain outside had begun to subside before leaving. He bought the copy of the Maltese Falcon and challenged himself to read at least the first two chapters on his return journey that evening. Slipping the tiny book into his inside jacket pocket, he continued steadily up the main road towards the Chatterton Hotel.
Luke didn’t hesitate outside the hotel’s gates. Having reached the building in question for the second time that week, he simply walked up to the front doors and began to rap his knuckles against the frame. He was preparing to knock for a third time when a sound caught his attention and caused him to freeze. He listened. The screams were faint and it was difficult to pinpoint their location such was the noise of the wind and the low hum of distant traffic coming from the high street down below. He stepped back from the door. His mouth hung slightly limp, his head cocked slightly to one side. Again, for only a second, he heard the faint cry of someone in trouble. Only when the wind momentarily dropped was Luke able to locate the source of this anguish. The cries were coming from somewhere behind the Chatterton Hotel itself. Not wasting another second, Luke raced across the overgrown lawn. A broken stone wall separated the front garden from the back. Using his hand for balance, Luke cleared the wall but fell awkwardly the other side. He let out a yell of his own as he collapsed in pain across the back garden. He’d twisted his ankle upon impact and now he’d have to limp the remainder of the way. Hauling himself up, he pressed his right hand against the wall of the hotel and, using it as a form of makeshift crutch, began to edge himself forward.
The Devil's Blue Eyes Page 6
