by Chris Simms
Jon felt his heart lurch yet again. Punch. I was meant to call back late morning. ‘I just don’t know. All we can do is take precautions and try to carry on.’ He reached for his phone. Whoever had been trying to call earlier had left a message on his answerphone. The first three digits were the same as his home number: the call had been local. The vet’s, he thought. It could be the number for the vet’s. He was about to ring his answerphone when another call came in. Anonymous. Siobhain again? ‘DI Spicer.’
‘It’s me. He’s here.’ Even slightly out of breath, her Irish accent was coming through strongly.
Jon’s eyes bounced between Alice and Rick. ‘Where – at his house?’
‘It’s one of those apartments where he lives. He arrived late last night.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s in his apartment right now?’
‘Yes.’
Jon shook his head. Who’d just been standing on the pavement outside, then? Was it the mate from the van? ‘Who’s he with? Is he on his own?’
‘No. There were a few there. A bit of a party, it was.’
A party. Jon felt his teeth grind together. The fucker was having a celebration, was he? Raising a glass to his little achievement. Jon wanted to smash his fist into something. ‘Is the other one there?’
‘Which other one?’
‘I don’t know his name. The one with gingerish hair. His mate.’
‘Denis? Not sure.’
Denis, Jon thought. ‘OK, leave it with me.’
‘Does that mean you’re coming?’
Jon allowed himself a glimpse of Darragh’s face, blood pouring from a mouth of broken teeth as he brought his heel down on it one more time. Glancing guiltily at his wife, he cancelled the image from his mind. ‘I said leave it with me.’ Before she could say anything else, he pressed red and began to turn the phone over in his hands. ‘Seems Darragh is back,’ he announced. ‘Arrived in Clifden late last night.’
Alice sat forward. ‘That was the Irish woman again?’
He nodded, accessing his answerphone and lifting the handset to his ear. The message began to play.
‘Mr Spicer? It’s Valerie Ackford. Could you please come to the veterinary practice? It’s Punch, he’s…please come. As soon as you possibly can.’
Chapter 19
Jon hesitated at the front step of the vet’s. What did she mean? It’s Punch, he’s…please come. Why didn’t she say what it was about? He can’t be dying. They said he was stable…that he was – ’
The door opened and he looked up to see Valerie standing before him. ‘Please, come in.’
Jon suddenly felt like his leg muscles had been struck by a wasting disease. ‘Is he…’ His jaw was numb, his tongue clumsy. He tried again. ‘Is everything all right?’ Valerie placed a hand on his arm and he wanted to shrug it off. Don’t say it isn’t, he thought. Don’t.
‘Mr Spicer, Punch’s condition has deteriorated. It can happen as an animal starts to come out of shock. I’m very sorry, but his system is simply shutting down.’
Jon couldn’t move forward. He hovered in the doorway. ‘Well, what…how can you reverse that?’
Slowly, she shook her head. ‘We’re past that now, Jon. The best thing is for you to just be with him.’
‘What do you mean, just be with him?’ His head dropped. I know what you mean, he thought. His vision started to swim and he had to wipe at his eyes.
She squeezed his arm in reply. ‘Come on, come with me.’ She took his hand and led him down the corridor. The nurse glanced up and immediately turned away, a tearful look on her face. He felt sick as they reached the treatment room. I don’t want to go in there. I don’t want this to happen. ‘Can’t you do anything?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Come.’
He felt a tug on his hand and stepped forward once again. The room was bright and he could hear music from the radio. Piano, melodic and beautiful. Whatever that is, Jon thought, I never want to hear it again. He became aware of a rapid rasping sound and turned to the cage as Valerie unclipped the door.
Jon looked at her. ‘What do I do?’
‘He’s not in pain – I’ve made sure of that. Just…stroke him. Talk to him. He may well recognise your voice.’ She stepped past and left the room.
Jon sucked in breath and forced his gaze to the cage. He looks like he’s fast asleep, he thought. Not dying. Not about to die. Punch was lying on his side, position unchanged except for the fact his neck was arched back. His muzzle was pointing to the back of the cage, as if an interesting smell was located there. Jon saw his breathing was laboured, ribs rising and falling, stuttering, almost stopping before finally moving again.
He stepped closer, grasped the corners of the blue carpet at the base of the cage and swivelled it round. The movement had an echo of another; the van, he realised. Dragging the beast towards the light. He regarded his dog’s face. The eyes were shut, tongue lolling from slack jaws. Jon draped a forearm across his dog’s shoulder and let his fingers rest lightly on the fluttering ribs. Cold, he thought, you’re so cold. He lowered his forehead and brought his nose into contact with Punch’s ruined ear. ‘I’m here, boy,’ he murmured. ‘Daddy’s here for you now. It’s OK. You’re a good boy. Daddy loves you.’
He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. The piano faded away and was followed by something with violins. At some point Punch’s breathing slowed and finally came to a halt. He kept whispering all the same, hand running back and forth, back and forth. When he did lift his face, Punch’s coat was matted with his tears.
He wiped at his eyes and looked around. The cupboard units are all still here. The tap and the sink. That little cardboard box is on the work surface. Music is coming from the radio. Nothing, he realised, has changed: except Punch is now dead. He closed his eyes and held the thought. Punch is dead. Punch is dead. He visualised a dark space – somewhere safe and quiet – and pushed the thought as far in as it would go. Then he cupped a palm over the side of Punch’s face, ran the tip of his thumb slowly down the smooth groove of fur between the animal’s eyes and walked out of the room.
Valerie was in reception, sitting at the computer alongside the nurse. They looked round at his approach.
‘He’s gone,’ Jon announced. ‘Slipped away.’
Valerie nodded, getting to her feet. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He gave a quick shake of his head. ‘No – I want to thank you. Both of you. I know you did everything possible.’ He looked at the workstation and back at Valerie. ‘Can you make arrangements…I don’t know what the procedure – ’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘There’s no need to rush, though. Why don’t you – ’
‘I’d like him to be cremated,’ Jon cut in, the cliff edge overlooking Edale clear in his mind’s eye. Strange, he thought, realising part of him always knew that’s where Punch would end up. He pictured the numbers of walks they’d enjoyed together up there, Punch trotting happily alongside, occasionally turning his eyes upward. Just checking, the look said. Just checking you’re still here. Us two, in this perfect place together. Jon closed the thought down. ‘Doesn’t matter what the ashes are in. Cheapest pot will do. Can you add the costs to our bill?’
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘It sounds like you’ve –’
‘I have. It’s what I want. It’s what Punch would want. Shall I call you tomorrow?’ He could tell she was taken aback at his businesslike tone.
‘I’ll be in touch, don’t worry. I only wish…’
Now it was his turn to squeeze her arm. ‘Thanks again.’
He walked quickly down the corridor and let himself out. Turning left on the pavement, he slid his mobile from his pocket and called home. ‘Alice?’ He swallowed hard. ‘He’s dead.’
‘Jon.’
‘His body couldn’t cope. It just shut down.’
‘Oh, Jon. I don’t know what to say…are you all right?’
He thought how her
words confirmed what never needed to be said. They might have referred to Punch as the family dog but, if the truth be known, it was really his. ‘I’m OK. A bit shaky. I’m going for a walk.’ He looked up at the pale sky. ‘Just to try and get my head straight. I won’t be long.’
‘That’s fine. Rick’s here. Mum’s happy hanging on to Holly. I’m really sorry, Jon. I’m really so sorry.’
‘Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit.’ He snapped his phone shut and continued towards the golf course. The car park was a quarter full. He crossed the asphalt at a quick pace, strode down the grassy bank and came to a halt where the attack had taken place the day before.
The grass looked as if it had been gone over by the groundsman; no clue as to what had happened there remained. Jon walked over to the screen of bushes, sat down on a tree stump and rested his forearms across his knees. So, he asked himself, clasping his hands together, what’s your next move? You’ve a pregnant wife and young daughter. If your lives can ever return to normal, you’re going to have to start using your brain.
Chapter 20
Silence as Alice and Rick looked up. He stepped into the kitchen, concentrating on keeping it together.
Alice rose and walked towards him, both arms out. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, leaning in slightly so her hair was pressed against his face.
After a few seconds, she leaned her upper body back and he felt the hard ball of her pregnancy push against him. She regarded him anxiously, tears spilling from her eyes.
‘I’m OK,’ he replied, wiping them from her cheeks.
She sighed, hands sliding down to his waist. ‘Are you hungry?’
He considered her question. ‘No. But a coffee would be great.’
She gave a small smile. ‘Rick?’
‘Yeah – another coffee would be great, thanks.’
She began to make them all drinks. ‘It doesn’t seem real. Our whole life – it’s like we’ve woken up in a parallel universe.’
Jon watched her. It’s real, he thought, taking a seat.
She placed the drinks on the table, pulled a chair between the two men and took hold of Jon’s hand. ‘Where did you go? I was getting worried.’
‘The golf course. Somewhere quiet to sit and weigh everything up. Work out what to do,’ he circled his free hand in the air, ‘with this situation.’
Alice looked uncomfortable. ‘With Zoë?’
He sighed. ‘Her, yes. But Darragh as well.’
Alarm showed in her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
He looked down at the table as he spoke. ‘I’ve been thinking it through. He’s just lost his prizefighting dog because of me.’
‘My heart bleeds,’ Alice retorted angrily. ‘How will he ever cope?’
Jon lifted his eyes. ‘That’s exactly what worries me.’ He saw her pupils contract as the focus of her thoughts turned inward. She was picking up the thread.
‘But they killed Punch! Their dog is dead, and now so is ours. We’re even.’
‘No.’ He kept his voice low. ‘It’s not. Punch was payback for what happened in his nightclub.’ He saw her eyes flick away for an instant. A spark of resentment. ‘I’m sorry, Ali. If I knew what was going to –’
She rubbed briskly at his hand. ‘It’s all right. We can’t turn the clock back. But you’re saying it isn’t over? He’s back in Ireland and still planning to attack us again?’
Jon flipped his other hand palm up. ‘I just don’t know.’
She turned her head. ‘Rick? Is this…do you think what Jon’s saying – is he right?’
Rick was studying Jon. ‘What else is on your mind?’
He shrugged. ‘I haven’t got a lot further than that. What’s your take?’
Rick took a long breath in. ‘I agree that with characters like him – small-time criminals – it’s how their minds work. It’s all about reputation. Threats to it, real or imagined.’
Alice slid her hand off Jon’s. ‘So you’re saying he’s right. He’s going to come back?’
‘He could well do.’
She pressed a finger against the table. ‘Then we get the Irish police involved. Have them haul the bastard in – charge him with… I don’t know, attempted murder of Holly. Christ, that dog was about to attack her!’
‘I’ve been considering it,’ Jon muttered. ‘But it’s a non-starter.’
‘Why?’ Her eyes glittered angrily. ‘Tell me why.’
‘Shit, Ali. This whole bloody mess – ’
‘Just tell me.’
‘Because I lack any kind of hard proof.’
‘You got the registration of their van! You saw the driver. The van’s then abandoned and set on fire with that thing in the back of it!’
Jon pursed his lips. ‘It’s not enough to bring charges against Darragh. Not as it stands.’
‘But you’re a policeman.’ She looked from him to Rick. ‘You know full well he’s behind it. I don’t understand how you can’t – ’
‘What do I do?’ Jon interrupted. ‘Explain to DCI Parks that we’ve no hard evidence, but could she ring the police station in Clifden and ask them to arrest him? Tell Darragh that, if he’s planning anything else that might endanger our daughter, he really should strongly reconsider – ’
‘All right, Jon,’ Rick cut in. ‘You’ve made your point.’
He blinked a couple of times then placed a hand back on hers. ‘Sorry.’
‘Then forget the Irish police,’ Alice said. ‘If they won’t take action, we do something.’
Jon stared mournfully at her. ‘Ali, we face the same problem: proof. And even if we managed to collect any, the process involved in arresting someone beyond Britain’s borders is a nightmare. We’d still be relying on the police in Ireland to help build our case.’
Alice ran her hands through her hair. ‘I can’t carry on living like this.’
They sat in silence for a few seconds before Rick said, ‘There could be a way to sort it out.’
Jon’s eyes went to Rick. ‘How?’
‘Threaten to hit him where it hurts most – his wallet. You go over and tell him Zoë’s coming back with you and things end there. If he says no, you explain that – as a policeman – you’ll make sure his business suffers. You’ll bring in the National Crime Agency, if needs be.’
Jon was looking at Alice. Tension was pulling at her mouth and pinching the skin at the corners of her eyes. She’s coming apart at the seams, he thought, putting an arm round her and wrenching his eyes back to Rick. ‘Carry on.’
‘OK, you ask for a meeting with him. But it must be in private. You tell him that’s, if Zoë leaves with you, he’s free to tell his people anything he wants. It’s all about not losing face, remember? You begged him. You pleaded and apologised. You offered money. Anything Darragh wants you to say, you say it. What’s crucial is Darragh comes out of that meeting the victor, not you.’
‘What you’re suggesting,’ Alice whispered. ‘The man was prepared to let a fighting machine loose on our daughter – and Punch. How do you know he wouldn’t do the same to Jon?’
Rick reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘You have to remember, Jon’s police. Behind all this, he’s a British police officer.’
‘And they just executed a British soldier – the one kidnapped outside those barracks in Belfast!’
‘No.’ Jon cut in. ‘That’s completely different, Ali. You’re talking about Northern Ireland and you’re talking about dissident republicans looking to derail the peace process. Darragh is a small-time criminal in a tiny town in a far corner of Ireland. He has no link to any paramilitary activity whatsoever.’ She still looked frightened. ‘Alice – the guy is a crook. He’s a crooked businessman. His priority is to guard his business. I think Rick’s right – he won’t jeopardise everything over Zoë.’ ‘Could you do that?’ Alice asked. ‘Let him humiliate you?’
Jon sat back and spread his palms. ‘If it makes this thing go away, yes.’
Both men looked at Alice.
> She glanced from one to the other. ‘What?’
‘What do you think?’ Jon asked gently.
‘I trust you two. If you reckon it’ll work, then so do I.’ She flinched. ‘How long will you be leaving me and Holly on our own?’
Jon’s eyes closed for a moment. Good point. Darragh might be back in Clifden, but he obviously knows people over here… He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Center Parcs,’ he announced, raising his eyebrows. ‘You go to Center Parcs tomorrow as planned – but you move lodges. We don’t need the one that allows dogs. Book into another, but in your maiden name.’
Rick was nodding. ‘And you go in my car. Darragh’s seen that you own a Mondeo. So you leave it here on the drive.’
Jon regarded his colleague. ‘Rick – there’s no need – ’
‘There is.’
‘OK, thanks. It would be safe, wouldn’t it? Different lodge, different name, different car. Who’s going to find her?’
‘Nobody,’ Rick responded.
Alice lifted a finger and rubbed at the edge of her eye. Jon watched her anxiously. ‘Ali, none of this happens unless you’re happy, OK?’
She nodded. ‘There are other things to consider. As I said, how long do you go for? We have to agree on a limit.’
‘She’s right,’ Rick stated.
‘Well,’ Jon replied. ‘I’m due back in work on Monday. Today’s Wednesday. Say I left tomorrow – I’d stay until Sunday evening at the latest.’
‘Three nights,’ said Rick. ‘Should be enough.’
‘And Zoë?’ Alice asked. ‘Does she come back to Manchester?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jon replied. ‘What do you reckon?’
She let out a growl of exasperation. ‘I’m so angry with her. She never thinks of anyone but herself.’
Jon nodded wearily. ‘If she’s using drugs again, she can have a flight anywhere she wants but Manchester. We’ve got Jake to consider in this – not to mention my mum and dad.’
‘And if she’s not on them?’
He shrugged. ‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.’ His eyes fell away. He found himself looking at Punch’s basket in the corner, bowls for food and water beside it. It hit him like a donkey’s kick. He’s gone.
