Retribution

by Heather Atkinson

  With one final glower Dwyer stormed through a door leading deeper into the police station, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “Sorry about him,” said Taylor, glaring at the door he’d gone through. “He’s such an arsehole, no one here can stand him.”

  “Then get rid of him.”

  “It’s not that easy. His record’s exemplary.”

  “Word is he fits people up.”

  “I’ve heard that too. Unfortunately I’ve no proof.”

  “Then find it,” said Jez. “The sooner he’s gone the better.”

  “I completely agree and I’m working on it. But know this - you don’t give me orders.”

  Taylor gave them a hard look before exiting through the door Dwyer had gone through.

  “I like Taylor,” announced Jez. “I never thought I’d say that about a copper but he has got balls.”

  “Yeah. Now that’s sorted let’s go and check on Jules.”

  Jez didn’t even try to dissuade him, it seemed trying to keep him away from Jules was pretty pointless. “Alright, let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Dwyer’s visit had had the opposite effect to what he’d intended and Jules felt buoyed up, for the first time since she’d woken from the coma. Throwing a vase at a police officer had empowered her. Fair enough, if he’d attacked her she would have been helpless to defend herself but she’d still stood up to him and she hadn’t felt afraid. Fear had been her constant companion since she’d woken up and his visit had helped dispel some of it.

  “Glad to see you smiling for once,” grinned Jez as he walked into her room with Mikey.

  “I told stupid man….who works at the station…,” she said, waving her hand in the air as she struggled to come up with the right words. “Piss off.”

  “So we heard,” he said, eyes twinkling as he perched on the edge of her bed. “He’s an arsehole.”

  “I called him…bumhole.”

  “Good for you,” he winked. “And that’s the perfect word for him, better than arsehole. We spoke to Taylor, he gave him a good fucking telling and he’s off the investigation into the attack on you.” He thought it prudent not to tell her that Dwyer had called her a vegetable.

  Jez and Mikey beamed when she released her usual bark of laughter. “Dick.”

  “Exactly. So you don’t need to worry about him coming round again.”

  “He might,” she said. “He no give up.”

  “Don’t you worry about him, we’ll sort him out.”

  She took Jez’s hand and stared seriously into his eyes. “He dangerous. Man like him…” She broke off, fighting for the right words, eyes flicking from side to side and jaw gritted. Finally the word popped into her head. “Obsessed,” she said with a smile of triumph.

  “Nice one Sis,” said Jez. “See, it’s getting better.”

  She nodded, feeling a little spent and leaned back into the pillows. At least she wasn’t embarrassed about her speech in front of Mikey and Jez like she was with Jackson. They didn’t make her feel thick.

  “You’re right Jules,” said Mikey. “Dwyer will be back and he’ll possibly come at us harder now he’s been humiliated and probably in a way we won’t expect. We have to be ready.”

  She nodded. “I throw flower holding thing at him,” she said.

  “The what?” said Jez.

  “She means the vase,” smiled Mikey, noticing it was missing from her bedside cabinet. “I wish I’d seen that,” he chuckled.

  “Hand…hurt…blood,” she said, pointing to the top of her own hand.

  “That explains the plaster,” sniggered Jez. “See Sis, you’re still kicking ass.”

  She smiled at them both. “Thank you.”

  “What for?” said Jez.

  “Listening…my speak.”

  “At least this way we get a word in edgeways,” said Mikey.

  Jez gaped at him for his insensitivity but on the contrary, Jules laughed, their eyes dancing as they looked at each other. For once Jez was pleased about the chemistry between them.

  “What’s wrong?” said Mikey when she shifted on the bed. “Are you in pain?”

  She shook her head and gestured to the window. “I want…outside.”

  “Have you not been out yet?”

  “No,” she sighed miserably. “Me go crazy. Need…air.”

  “I’ll have a word with the nurses,” said Jez, deciding to leave them to it. Jules was always happier when Mikey was around.

  “So you’re sure you’re okay after Dwyer’s visit?” Mikey asked her when he’d gone.

  “I found…me still have fight.”

  “Course you do babe. That’s something you’ll never lose, it’s in your blood.”

  She grasped his hand. “Thank you.”

  He took her hand in both his own. “Anytime.” He felt his heart pound. It didn’t make a difference that she couldn’t walk and that she struggled to talk. He was still crazy about her.

  After speaking to the nurses, Jez returned to her room and watched Jules and Mikey talking through the glass in the window of her door. It was the most animated he’d seen her since she’d woken up.

  “Catherine said you can go outside, just into the garden,” he said as he entered the room. “But you’ve got to wrap up warm and go in a wheelchair. They’ll be along in a few minutes to get you ready.”

  “Wheelchair?” she said, downcast.

  “Remember, it’s only temporary.”

  “Maybe.”

  She was looking down again and he wanted to dispel her bad mood. “Cathy called while I was talking to the nurses, she needs me home so I’ll leave you to it.”

  He smiled inwardly when Mikey and Jules glanced at each other. Fuck it all. If it made his sister happy he didn’t care.

  Mikey was asked to wait outside the room while the nurses changed Jules out of her pyjamas and into her outdoor clothes. Anxiously he paced, wishing they’d hurry up, he was worried about Jackson turning up and interrupting this special time with her, as he had a habit of doing.

  Finally the door opened and Jules was wheeled out looking extremely pissed off.

  “What’s up?” he asked her. “I thought you’d be happy about going outside?”

  “I would be but…this thing,” she huffed, gesturing to the chair.

  “If you feel like that get up and I’ll take it and you can push me. I’m tired.”

  “I not push you, you big bastard, not even if I was at proper strong, like normal,” she sniffed, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Well I can push you so come on lady,” he said, taking the handles of the wheelchair from the nurse. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

  “Take the turning on the left and it’ll take you to the door with disabled access,” the nurse called after them. “And please don’t be longer than fifteen minutes. It’s very cold out there.” She dumped a woolly pink bobble hat in his hands. “She refuses to wear this but she needs to. Please try and convince her to put it on.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said as he steered her down the corridor.

  “Disabled access,” muttered Jules as they turned the corner. “I not disabled.”

  “Alright grumpy arse, this is supposed to be a fun walk.”

  “I no walk,” she exclaimed, indicating the chair.

  “You know what I mean. You going to push the door then or are you going to sit there sulking.”

  With a sigh she reached out and pushed at the door but her arms lacked the strength and it swung closed again, only Mikey’s intervention preventing it from slamming shut in her face.

  “Shit,” she huffed, eyes filling with tears, furiously blinking them away.

  “No worries, I’ve got it,” he said, turning her chair around and going out backwards. “Now you’ve got to wear this,” he said once they were outside, pulling the bobble hat on her head.

  “No,” she said, pulling it off again. “Pink horrible.”

  “Jesus Jules, this isn
’t a fashion parade. There’s only us here. Just wear the hat.”

  “No.”

  Mikey knelt before her, smiling. The rebellion in her eyes was just like the old Jules. “Wear it or I’ll staple it to your head.”

  “You no threat me,” she glowered.

  “I will because this is your first trip outside in eight weeks. You need some fresh air and if you have to wear a stupid hat to do it then you’ll wear the stupid hat. Do you hear me lady?”

  “You so masturbator,” she said, eyes full of mischief.

  He blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

  “No, wrong word.”

  “Thank Christ for that.”

  “You master…master…ful,” she exclaimed.

  “I much prefer that one,” he grinned. “Now are we going for this walk or do you want me to take you back inside to continue staring at four walls?”

  “Walk,” she announced, pulling on the hat, which sat crooked on her head.

  “As adorable as that looks,” he said, straightening it for her. “You’ll get a cold ear. There, much better,” he smiled.

  She caught his gaze and they stared at each other, Mikey thinking how pretty she looked in the stupid hat, flakes of snow dusting the dark ends of her hair. Christ he wished she was his. But she wasn’t, she was Jackson’s. End of story.

  “We’d better get moving before we freeze to death,” he said, reluctantly straightening up.

  “Yeah,” she replied equally reluctantly.

  As he steered her away from the building into the gardens, Jules’s eyes widened with wonder. She’d been staring at the same four cream-coloured walls for so long she’d forgotten how truly amazing the outdoors could be. Even though it was winter and everything was covered in snow there were so many different shades of colour - pure virginal white combined with the deep brown of the tree trunks, a smattering of green from patches of the lawn sheltered from the snow, the roiling grey of the sky above, the red of a robin.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. Nature was something she’d never taken the time to appreciate but she intended to remedy that as soon as she was back on her feet.

  “Yeah, the gardens here are lovely,” he said. “I bet they’re gorgeous in summer, although you’ll probably be long gone by then.”

  She looked up at him, fear in her eyes. “What if I not?”

  “You will.”

  “What if I not walk again, or talk right?”

  “Don’t think like that. Remember, positivity.”

  Jules rolled her eyes.

  Mikey crouched before her. “You’re going to get stronger and you’re going to get out of here. End of story.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. I’m saying that’s how it’s going to be so you’d better get on with it, okay lady? I need you.”

  She shook her head. “No, I burden.”

  “You are not a fucking burden.” He took her hands. “I still love you and the wheelchair and the bobble hat will not change that.”

  She squeezed his hands. “I love you too.”

  Mikey had no idea whether she meant that platonically or as something more but now was not the time to press her on that issue. He wiped a snowflake off the tip of her nose. “You look like a pixie.”

  Her gentle smile fell. “Arsehole.”

  “You know how to spoil a moment Jules.”

  “You spoil with pixie.”

  “It was meant to be a compliment.”

  “Crap compliment.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe. I’ll do better next time.”

  Her eyes filled with anxiety. “I wish Jackson…like you. He no deal with my legs and talk well.”

  “Give him time. It’s not been easy for him either.”

  “I can’t…” She sighed, searching for the right words. “I need think about me. I can’t…Argh,” she added when she simply couldn’t enunciate what she wanted to say.

  “You mean you can’t deal with him and his shit while you’re trying to get through your own?”

  “Yes,” she exclaimed. “I knew you get it.”

  “And you’re entitled to feel like that. You’ve got to concentrate on you babe and put everyone else on the back burner. Once you’re strong enough, then you can face all that crap.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. I just wish Cara…”

  “I know but she’ll come round. It might take her some time but she will, when she sees you recovering and gaining weight, and you will. Then everything else will fall into place.”

  When she held out her arms he gently embraced her, the familiar heat of her touch flooding his body. Naturally she felt different - smaller, fragile, as though she could shatter at any moment but that was an illusion. That incredible fighting spirit of hers still burned like a torch and it would see her through what was ahead.

  He was annoyed when a nurse appeared in the garden, wrapped in a cardigan, shivering, eyes widening to see them locked in an embrace. “Oh, excuse me,” she said. “But it’s time for Jules to come back inside, she’s been out a bit longer than we would have liked.”

  “Sorry, my fault,” he said, releasing her and straightening up.

  “Aww,” said Jules. “No want inside.”

  “You can come out again tomorrow,” said the nurse. “As long as the weather doesn’t get any colder.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. But when she looked up at Mikey her eyes once again danced with that indomitable spirit of hers that he knew so well.

  Charlie O'Brien and two of his friends were gathered together at a table in their local boozer, all commiserating over the fact that Jules Driscoll had woken from her coma.

  “That is one jammy bitch,” said Charlie, a non-descript looking man in his early thirties with large blue eyes and a missing front tooth, the latter thanks to Jules.

  “Yeah,” said his best friend, Rob, absently running his index finger over the scar on his left arm, put there by Jules. “I was enjoying the thought of her in a coma. Seemed right after she knocked me out and went to town on me with her knives. If anyone should have stayed asleep, it’s her.”

  “And what about the bets we put on?” said Tom, taking the black book he’d been using to log the bets out of his jacket pocket. “We’ve got a book going on when she woke up.”

  “Who won?” said Charlie, looking more cheerful.

  “No one. Everyone in here bet she’d either croak it naturally or her family would pull the plug.”

  “Fuck,” said Charlie. “There was a good whack in the kitty too.”

  Charlie and his friends were barely recognised by the Laws and Maguires, their criminal activities far too petty for them to bother with. However they had had several unpleasant run-ins with Jules when she was known as Venom. They’d been tempted to get their revenge while she was asleep and helpless, but they’d all rather enjoyed her being in a coma, coming up with various jokes at her expense. Jules in a coma had felt like revenge but now she’d woken up they wanted her hurting all over again.

  “She even fucks that up for us,” scowled Rob.

  Charlie gazed thoughtfully into his pint. “Maybe it’s time we sorted that bitch out once and for all?”

  “What are you saying?” said Rob.

  “She’s conscious now yeah, but by all accounts her body’s fucked up. She can’t fight back.”

  “So?” said Tom.

  “Jesus you two are slow,” said Charlie. “No wonder we’ve been stuck in the small time for so long. I’m saying,” he glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “We finish her now, while she’s still weak.”

  Neither Tom nor Rob appeared very enthused by the idea.

  “Are you crazy?” said Tom. “Even if we are successful in getting into the home she’s in and we do manage to top her, what do you think her family’s going to do to us?”

  “Why would they think it’s us? They don’t even know who we are and after all the wars that family’s had lately, do you think they’d even consider us?”


  Tom and Rob looked at each other and smiled. “You might have a point there,” said the latter.

  “Course I do. They’re more likely to blame Jared Slattery or Toni McVay for it. We’ve been careful to stay off their radar for a long time. So you see, it’s foolproof.”

  “But how would we get into the home?” said Rob. “Security’s pretty tight.”

  “We’ll dress up as workmen or delivery men or something.”

  “Jesus, this isn’t the Village People,” said Tom. “We need a firm plan, nothing vague.”

  “Just leave how we get in to me,” said Charlie, taking a swig of his lager. “I’m looking forward to getting some revenge on that bitch. I want to look into her eyes as she dies and see the life drain out of her. That’ll teach her to break my jaw and my teeth.”

  “Yeah, the stabby cow,” said Rob, fingers returning to his scar.

  “I don’t know about this,” said Tom. “Is it worth being killed just for some revenge?”

  “We won’t be killed,” said Charlie. “Like I said, how will her family even know it was us?”

  “They’ll find out we had a grudge to bear.”

  “As do half the people in this city. Jules has pissed off a lot of people. We’d better get in quick before someone else does the job. Come on mate, are you telling me you don’t want revenge for her cutting off your little finger?”

  Tom looked down at his mangled left hand, frowning at the wrinkled stump she’d left him with. “Well, yeah, course. But I don’t think it’s worth dying for.”

  “I can pull it off. Trust me.”

  Tom thought carefully before shaking his head. “Nah, count me out. Good luck to you both but no way am I going to die because of that bitch. I’ll leave you to your plotting,” he said, getting up and taking his pint over to another table. “Alright,” he grinned at the two men who had their heads together, deep in discussion.

  “Alright Tom?” said Pat Evans, a local loan shark and coke dealer. He was talking with his business partner, Sam Williams.

  “You two look serious.”

  “We are,” said Pat. “Hey, maybe you can help us.”

  “With what?”

  “That bitch Jules Driscoll cut you up bad, didn’t she?”