20

Michael

 

 

                        He sat smoking in Anthony’s lounge, sprawled out on the sofa under the boarded up window.  He couldn’t resist a smug smile to himself.  He could smoke in the house now that Chrissie had gone.  Ah but it was sad really, it was devastating.  He looked up and caught sight of the kids pictures, dotted proudly in frames all over the walls, and felt a stirring of guilt and unease in his belly.  His brother was in the kitchen, trying to decide between tea and beer.  He was supposed to be at work but had called in sick. Michael could see that he was sick all right; sick of everything, without a clue what to do about it.  Chrissie was still at her parent’s house with the kids. 

“She can’t take them from you, you know,” Michael said, when Anthony shuffled miserably back into the room.  Michael was pleased to see he had opted for beer, hurling one at him, and slumping into an armchair with his own.  Anthony shrugged in response.  He was wearing old tracksuit trousers and a paint stained t-shirt.  They had been up most of the night drinking and talking, and he looked somewhat worse for wear this morning.  Michael looked at his phone.  Danny had still not returned his messages.  “You need to go around there and have it out with her,” he said to his brother. “You need to stand up for yourself.”

“Why?” Anthony looked at him irritably. “She’s done the right thing.  They’re better off out the way with all this going on.”

“The police are investigating properly now,” Michael shrugged, snapping his beer open and taking a large gulp. “After what happened to Lucy last night.  They can’t ignore stuff like that.”

“We’ll see.”

“Still no message from Dan,” Michael told him, looking at his phone again. “Do you think he’s all right?”

“I don’t know.  Hopefully he’s gone in search of these scumbags.  Hopefully he’ll find them and kick the living shit out of them.”

Michael laughed. “Do you really think he’s got it in him?”

Anthony glared his way. “He just spent eight years in prison Mike.  Course he’s fucking got it in him.”

“So you’ve had it out with Chrissie, or what?” Michael decided to bring the conversation back around to his sister-in-law and her stubbornness. Anthony yawned in reply, drank fast mouthfuls of beer, and looked angry.

“She doesn’t know me at all, you know,” he said then.  Michael nodded and waited.  He thought, I know that already mate. “It’s like these last eight years together, or whatever it is, she thinks she’s been married to someone else.”

“You should tell her,” Michael said then, sitting forward slightly on the sofa, and tapping the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray on the floor.  “Tell her Jenny is totally fine with it all.  She wants to meet Danny and everything.  She didn’t give a shit about Zach meeting him.  She was just pleased for us all you know?”

Anthony looked at him with narrowed eyes. “But have you told her about the letters and the windows and that?”

“Yeah, I’ve told her,” Michael replied. “Course I have.  I’m not having Zach over, just in case, but she’s still cool about it all.  You should tell Chrissie that.”

“Jenny’s a good girl,” Anthony nodded at him, his expression sombre.  “You should have held onto her you know.  She’s a good girl and she would have loved you forever.”

“I know I’m an idiot,” Michael shrugged.  He had been thinking the same thing himself lately.  He still could not believe how cool she had been about Danny’s return, and the trouble it had brought for them all.  He had gone to visit Zach at home twice in the last week, which was more than normal.  He supposed he felt a bit ashamed of himself for the way he had behaved in the past.  He hated to admit it but there had been some truth in some of the things Anthony had said to him that night in the pub. “I’m trying to make it up to her now,” he told Anthony. “I’m gonna’ get more involved with Zach, you know?  Be more helpful for her and stuff.”

“Good,” Anthony nodded. “About time.”

“So what do you think will happen?  You think she’ll come back with her tail between her legs when all this blows over?”

Anthony sighed.  He crossed one ankle over the other. “God knows.  I don’t know Mike.  We’ve got a lot of talking to do, one way or another.  I mean, I can understand her being angry and scared, and wanting the kids out the way, but it’s the whole thing of making me choose that I can’t take.  She knows how much you and Dan mean to me, I’ve told her a million times, but she obviously didn’t listen, or she didn’t get it, I don’t know.”

“Hard for her to get, I suppose,” Michael said diplomatically, choosing his words carefully.  He felt like letting rip, of course, letting Anthony know exactly what he thought of his sister-in-law, but he knew he couldn’t.  That wouldn’t be fair. 

“It’s like she doesn’t care,” Anthony tried to explain, and Michael could see that he had been thinking about it endlessly. “It’s like it means nothing to her.  That time of our lives, it kind of shaped us, you know?  It’s like she doesn’t want to hear it, she doesn’t even want to understand it.  I tried to tell her I was practically like a dad to you and Danny back then.  That was how I felt.  That’s why I can’t just turn my back on either of you, but she won’t listen, she won’t have it Mike.  The only way she sees it, you’re both grown men now and I should leave you to it.  Stay out of it.”

“She wasn’t there,” Michael said softly.  “She doesn’t know.  She can’t possibly understand.”

“But it’s like you said, Jenny does!”

“Yeah but Chrissie, she’s like this spoiled princess type of girl, isn’t she?” Michael looked at his brother, eyebrows raised in apology. “I don’t mean anything bad by that,” he said quickly, “but that’s how she is, I mean she’s one of those girls, nice family, nice house, good at school, pretty and popular.  What has she ever had to deal with in life that isn’t nice or normal?”

“Nothing,” shrugged Anthony bitterly. “That’s what drives me mad sometimes.”

“I know, and I’m not slagging her off, I’m really not, she is a bloody fantastic mother, and she’s got this cool little business going and everything, and like when she talks, she’s so articulate and level-headed and knowledgeable.  But she hasn’t had to struggle for anything you know?  I think it all scares her.  I think me, and my life, and Danny coming back, it scares her because it reminds her of where you came from, and who you are.”  Michael drained the last of his beer and crushed the can in his hand, eyeing his brother’s doleful expression with triumph.  He knew he was right.  Chrissie had fallen in love with Anthony because he was handsome, and confident, and treated her like a lady.  She knew what she wanted.  Marriage, a home, and kids.  She somehow felt that his and Anthony’s past tainted all of that, or was a threat to it.  “That’s what it is mate,” he said. “The old you, the bloke who’s been in prison twice, the bloke who lived in a shitty little bed-sit with me and Danny, that’s not the one she wants.  That one scares her.  She wants this you,” and he spread out his hands, taking in the large TV and the portraits on the wall, and the sofa they had bought just three months ago after redecorating the lounge. “That’s why she hates you mixing with me, and that’s why it freaks her out so much Danny being back.”

“But why can’t she listen to me?” Anthony questioned, and Michael could see how anguished he was by it all.  He loved his wife, and his kids, and the life they had together, and as angry as he was, he did not want to lose it all.  “She’s my wife and she says she loves me, but she won’t listen.  She has no empathy Mike, for what Danny went through.  She just sees him as a killer, you know?  That’s what she said.  She called him a murderer.  She said the kids can’t go anywhere near him.  I just thought, you know, she might try to understand.”

“Some people just see what they want to see mate.  You can’t really blame her.  What he did frightens her.  What happened to him frightens her.  She probably thinks it will fucking rub off on them or something.”  Michael shrugged and shook his head.  “Fuck knows mate.”

“But I mean Lucy, she came from a nice home and a nice family,” Anthony said, his head in hand, his forehead creased by a frown.  “She still somehow understood, didn’t she?  I mean, she didn’t really even know the half of it, but she was always there, wasn’t she?”

“Different,” Michael told him flatly.  “One, she grew up with us, so she gets it all.  And two she’s fucking head over heels in love with Danny.  He could probably murder a few more fuckers and she wouldn’t care.”

Anthony dropped his hand, looked at his brother and smiled.  “Can’t believe you said that.”

“Joke,” Michael replied. “But it is true.”

“So he’s not with Lucy then?” Anthony asked with a sigh.  Michael looked at his phone again, willing it to beep at him.  He shook his head.

“He left this morning.  Maybe I should call him?”

“Yeah go on.  Lucy was meant to be finding out about you know who, on the Internet.  We might learn some more today, with that, and the police, you know?” 

Michael nodded, phone in hand.  He brought Danny’s number up and hit call.  The phone just rang and rang, and eventually went to answer. “Can you fucking answer your phone once in a lifetime please?” Michael shouted into it and hung up.  He rolled his eyes at his brother. “He’ll show up later.  You want to come and get pissed with me somewhere?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Anthony grinned, and hauled himself up from the chair.  “Why the fuck not eh?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21

Lucy

 

 

            She went through the whole day at school, not really knowing what she was doing.  It was like she was on auto-pilot, doing everything out of habit and instinct.  When she got home and threw down her bag and her laptop, and kicked off her shoes, she realised she could not remember anything about the day.  As she reached for the bottle of wine in the fridge, she hoped no one else had noticed.  Oh well, she thought, it was too late now. 

The power was back on.  She was determined not to feel scared.  Carl had told her to call or text or pop up to him at any time, should she need to.  It was reassuring knowing that he was there, looking out for her.  Lucy filled a glass with wine and wandered aimlessly towards the kitchen window.  She rested against the wall there, safe behind the net curtains and looked out at the road.  She thought about what had distracted her so much all day, not so much the creepy phone call or the power going out, but Danny, out there on the pavement, talking to that woman. He seemed to know her, Lucy thought, and she wondered if she ought to recognise her for some reason too, but if she did, she wasn’t sure why, or from where. 

They had chatted for a few minutes.  Their body language had alarmed her, even from the window.  Not only did they seem to already know each other, but they seemed to be eyeing each other up, she thought.  Sussing each other out.  The woman was smiling, tilting her head.  Flirting, she had definitely been flirting.  And then they had walked off together.  This was the part that made Lucy’s heart hurt.  This was the part that made her suck in her breath suddenly and blink away tears.  They had walked off together.  To where?  Where had they gone?  Had he arranged to meet her out there, and if so why hadn’t he told her? 

So many questions.  But at the same time, she told herself to shut up and get over it, because isn’t this what she had wanted?  Isn’t this what she had been on the verge of talking him into all night?  That he should be single for a while and find out what he wants.  But oh it hurt, seeing him like that, with someone else, no matter how innocent.  She had not been prepared for how much it would hurt.

Lucy sipped her wine and thought about calling him or sending him a text, but something held her back, something told her not to.  Let him be, she thought instead, let him be and see what happens.  She had an inkling that he did not enjoy being checked up on and worried about constantly, so she tried not to do it.  He was not a baby, or a kid anymore, he was a grown man, and she knew he had to try to find his own way somehow.  She recognised that Anthony and Michael had slipped easily back into their old roles with him.  They were doing it again, even if they did not mean to.  Looking out for him, defending him, worrying about him.  Anthony’s wife had walked out for the time being, and it pained Lucy deeply to think of Anthony all alone.   She thought back to that year the three of them had spent in the bed-sit together.  They had been tighter than ever, she remembered, resting her head now against the wall, as she cradled her wine glass in one arm. 

Anthony had been like mum and dad to them.  He had done all the shopping, and the cooking.  Lucy smiled at this.  They had been like a little family, watching over each other.  She wondered then if she could try to talk to Chrissie, try to help her understand the relationship that they had all had.  She had only met Anthony’s wife a handful of times, and had liked her.  She had seemed a natural, effortless mother to her children, and reminded Lucy of her own mum.  The way she looked at her kids, you could tell they meant the world to her, that she adored them, and would do anything for them.  Lucy moved away from the window then, and thought about putting the laptop on.  Typing in those three names, and seeing what happened.  But the thought chilled and outraged her. 

Instead, she sank down onto her sofa, pulled up her legs and curled up with her wine.  She flicked on the TV and checked her phone one last time.  No messages from Danny.  She wondered where he was.  Who he was with.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22

Danny

 

            They stared at each other across the grave.  Danny had pushed himself up onto his feet, but felt small again, diminished somehow in the old man’s presence.  He was just an old man, but there was no denying whose father he was.  Danny felt tremors of fear clawing through him.  He was old, but he had the same build as his son.  The same menacing air surrounded him.  He lowered his walking stick back to the ground, his gnarled old hand curled around it like a claw.  Danny looked him up and down quickly, hardly daring to take his eyes off him.  He was dressed in a long navy blue overcoat, brown trousers showing at the bottom, between the edge of the coat and the top of his black Wellington boots.  He wore one of those flat caps on his head, like a lot of old men.  Danny looked back at his face and for a moment all he could think about was running.  Turning around and running as fast as he could.  The eyes were the same.  They were Lee Howard’s piercing eyes in an older face. 

“Well?” the old man barked then suddenly, making Danny jump.  His voice was low and gravely, and Danny remembered how Lucy had described the voice on the phone last night.  He took another step back without even thinking.  “What do you think you’re doing here?  At my son’s grave?  Came to mess it up some more did you, you little fucker? Came to shit on it this time, did you?  You disgusting excuse for a human! I ought to call the police!”

Danny searched for his voice but could not find it.  He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again.  He looked around quickly but could see no one else.  They were all alone.  He swallowed and coughed to clear his throat.  The old man was staring at him in disgust.  “Cat got your tongue?” he demanded then, jutting his jaw out defiantly.  “Lee always said you had nothing to say for yourself!”

“I came here hoping to see you actually,” Danny said then, and although his voice came out as a croak, he was still amazed anything had emerged at all.  He could feel his heart pounding in panic.  He took a deep breath, willing his body to calm down.  “You’re his dad?” his eyes flicked briefly to the grave.  “You’re Jerry?”

“Course I bloody am!” Jerry spat back at him, his lip curling into a sneer.  Danny bristled.

“Good.”

“What do you mean good?  What the hell do you think you’re doing here after all you’ve done?  My wife went to an early grave because of you!”

Danny nodded slowly. This is good. He could hear the calm voice inside his head, the one he needed to listen to. This is what I wanted.  Keep calm.  This will lead us somewhere.  “Funny you should mention the police,” he said then, keeping his eyes on the old mans, using every ounce of control he owned to keep his voice steady. “Because you might find them knocking on your door pretty soon.  I’ve given them your name.  And your other son.  Dennis, is it?”

The old man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Don’t see anything of him! Waste of space he is!  You must be having a laugh you repulsive little shit.  Police knocking on my door eh?  You’re the one who’s a killer!”

“Yeah and I’ve been to jail,” Danny said, calmly.  “I’ve paid for it.  But that’s not enough for you, is it?  You’re the one behind all the graffiti, and the letters, and the bricks?  Aren’t you?  And last night?  Someone cut the power to my girlfriends flat, then called her up and scared the shit out of her!”  Good, that’s good, get angry, not scared, let the anger squash the fear, because he is just an old man, and you are not a little kid anymore…

“And you’re pointing the finger at me?” Jerry pointed to himself and laughed then.  He tipped back his head, his broad whiskered chin lifting to the sky as the chuckling rocked his body.  “That’s a fucking joke!” His eyes whipped back to Danny, and filled with pure rage.  He pointed at him now.  “You!  You are the one who murdered my boy!  Stabbed him to death in his own home! And you dare accuse me of crimes?”

“You deny it?” Danny asked.  “Who else would it be?”

“Anyone!” Jerry roared, and again Danny flinched, he sounded so much like his son.  He thought of all the times that twisted screaming face had been pushed into his, bellowing into his ear.  “I’m not the only one who thinks eight years is a fucking joke!  Ten years? Ten years, and you didn’t even serve that!  For taking my son’s life?  For driving my wife to her death?   Life was not enough for you!”

“I think it’s you,” Danny said.  He slipped one hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.  Keeping his eyes on Jerry, he stuck one into his mouth, found the lighter in his other pocket and lit up.  “It’s you,” he said again, blowing a smooth stream of smoke across the grave towards him.  “It was you on the phone last night.  The things you said to her.  Just like him.  Who else would know those things?”

“What things?” the old man demanded, doing a fine job of sounding incredulous.

“The things he used to call me,” Danny replied with a shrug. “Little man, and shit stain.  He said it wasn’t over until he said it was over.  That’s exactly the fucked up kind of thing he would say.  Except he can’t say it, can he?  Because he’s down there!” Danny jerked his cigarette towards the grave and watched Jerry’s eyes widen in horror.  “So it was you.  It has to be you.  No one else would know those things.”

“You’re talking crap,” the old man snarled. “Where’s your proof?  Where’s the evidence?  There’s been no coppers talking to me.  You’re living in a dream world.”

“Why don’t you just admit it?” Danny shrugged. “It’s so fucking obvious.  You hate me for killing him and you want revenge.  Fair enough.  We can talk.  That’s why I came here.  But you have to leave my friends alone, right?  They didn’t do anything to you.”

“Yeah, I knew you’d be back, when I caught you and your little side-kick urinating here that day!” Jerry shook his head, eyes narrowing again now. “Disgusting that was.  Vile.  Inhuman.  What kind of person does that?”

“Inhuman?” Danny questioned, rubbing his chin.  “That’s interesting.  Because that’s exactly how I would describe your precious son.  Did you actually know him at all? Or do you just think all the things he did are fine?”

“He didn’t do anything to you!” Jerry stepped forward then, slamming his walking stick back down into the mud.  Danny glanced at it, considered moving back, but then remembered again, he was a man now.  He didn’t have to.  He stood his ground, smoked his cigarette and waited, eyebrows raised in mock interest. “You were a coked up little bastard who stabbed my son to death, after he gave you every chance of a decent life!”

Danny shook his head, blinked and laughed out loud.  He could barely believe what he was hearing, it was so unreal.  “Decent life?” he asked.  “He gave me a decent life did he?”

“Yes he fucking well did, you ungrateful little bastard.  He tried to be a father to you, when your own couldn’t be bothered.  He tried to keep you on the straight and narrow, he tried to help you be a decent hardworking person, like he was!” The man stopped then, as if the emotion was getting the better of him.  He tore his eyes away from Danny and glared down at the grave. “I was so proud of him.  Everything he achieved in his life.  He worked hard!  Unlike you!”

“Beating me with his belt was giving me a decent life was it?” Danny licked his lips and stepped forward, towards the grave.  He focused his gaze on the old man, who suddenly seemed smaller now, as he stooped slightly over his stick, as if he had been holding himself upright and could not do it for much longer.  “Getting his pervert friend to deal me drugs was a decent life too was it? Burning me with cigarettes?  Punching me in the head? Kicking the shit out me?  That was all giving me a decent life was it mate?  Because it didn’t fucking feel like it to me!”

He pulled on his cigarette, feeling and allowing the anger and resentment to flow through him.  The old man straightened up again, and Danny was sure he could see a flinch of pain in his face as he did.  He was shaking his head violently. “There is no evidence that he abused you.  All that shit you came out with at the trial!  No evidence!  There were no police reports, you never called the cops on him! If he was hurting you so bad, why the hell didn’t you call the cops, eh?  There are no doctors reports, no hospital admissions, nothing!”

“He beat my mum too,” Danny shot back.  “Once I’d left!”

“No proof!” Jerry bellowed in return.  He took another step, this time around the edge of the grave, as if he had no intention of walking across it.  “She just said that to stick up for you, the lying bitch!”

“Why did I run away then?” Danny asked. “Why did I pack all my stuff and fuck off before I was even sixteen?  If I was having such a decent life?  Why did he stalk me and my friends for a year?  Attacking one of them in an alley?  There’s a police report for that old man!”

“Bullshit,” Jerry took another step around the grave.  A few more and he and Danny would be chest to chest.  “All lies. If he tried to find you it was because he wanted to help you.”

“That is fucking hilarious!” Danny roared then, rocking back on his heels in amusement.  He tossed his cigarette butt down and clapped his hands. “That is the funniest fucking thing I ever heard, you stupid delusional old bastard! That’s what he was doing, was it?  Trying to help me?  You don’t know the first thing about him do you?  Yeah he wanted to help me.  He wanted me back under his thumb.  He even offered me Freeman’s job once he’d jumped ship.  You know what that was don’t you?  Dealing drugs to little kids.  He wanted me to do that for him.  That was really helping me, wasn’t it eh?”

“You’re a lying little fucker,” the old man hissed, drops of spittle flying from his clenched teeth.  “That’s what you are.  He told me.  He told me what you were like from day one! Spoiled little mummy’s boy, getting his own way all the time.  You didn’t like my son coming in and stealing the attention away from you.”

“That’s why I killed him, is it?  Because I wanted the attention?” Danny snorted derisive laughter.

“You killed him because you were a drug crazed little arsehole! He warned me about you! He worried something like that would happen.  You’re disgusting.” Jerry was now right in front of Danny.  Danny looked at him.  The old man was slightly taller than him, and well built for an old guy, and he sensed that he expected Danny to move back, to wither in his presence, but he didn’t.  He stood his ground again and pushed out his chest.  “You’ve shown no remorse.  You disgust me.  You should have got life.  You’ve not been punished enough.”

“I think I have,” Danny told him. “I think your bastard son punished me enough.”

“He did nothing to you! He did nothing to deserve what you did to him that day!” Jerry was even closer now, both his hands clamped down upon the top of his stick, his shoulders rigid with hate, his thin lips pulled back over his teeth.  He had the same teeth as Lee as well Danny noted then.  Small and straight, only his were yellowed and discoloured with age. 

“Your son abducted me and hung me over a cliff!” Danny pushed his face closer to the old man’s.  He suddenly wanted him to know about it, to know it all, the truth of it, and better than that to feel it as well.  To know what it felt like to be dangled from a cliff top by a psychopath, by someone who you know is just insane enough to let you go, let you fall.  To know how it felt to be small and helpless, with no way of fighting back.  He suddenly wanted the old man to know how it feels to think you are about to die. 

“There is no evidence!” he growled in response, his eyes now inches away from Danny’s.  “Where’s your evidence?”

“I had cuts on my wrists from the wire he used.  Look!” Danny shoved his sleeve up his arm and pointed to the thin scars around one of his wrists. “What’s that then? How else did I get that?”

“Fucked if I know!” Jerry yelled back at him fiercely. “Fucked if I care!”

“They brought it up in court,” Danny remembered then, pushing his sleeve back down. 

“They also discounted every attempt you made to discredit my son, because there was no goddamn evidence!  And as the judge reminded your defence every time, they were there to decide if you killed him intentionally or not.  They were not there to debate what he allegedly did or didn’t do to deserve it!”

“I must have a pretty good imagination then,” Danny said, feeling the sudden urge to laugh again.  He could barely believe he was stood next to the evil bastards grave, arguing with his old man!  “To make all this shit up?  Why would I?”

“To justify it to yourself, and others,” the old man sneered at him.  “To make yourself out as the victim.  If he was so vile to you for years, why didn’t you tell the police, or a teacher?  Or your own goddamn mother?”

Danny took a step back then and breathed in then out again slowly.  He saw this was getting him nowhere.  This could go on for hours.  “I don’t have to justify myself to you, or to anyone,” he said then.  “I killed him because he drove me to it, and I don’t give a shit if you believe that or not.  He tortured me for years. He was a fucking deranged psychopath, and no one knows that better than me!  He was never going to leave me alone.  He brought it on himself.  He pushed me to it.  I fucking snapped in the end!  I’ve served my time now.  I took the full fucking whack when I didn’t have to.  So I’ve been punished.” He moved his head forward gently then, finding the old mans eyes with his own and holding them.  See it, see it in me, see that it’s all true, see what he did, and let it be over. “So it’s over now, you hear me old man?  He’s dead.  I’m out.  It’s all fucking over.”

“No,” the old man said it quickly and Danny knew then, he knew that it was him.  “No, it’s not.  It’s not over.  Not for me.”

“Well make sure you tell that to the cops when they come knocking,” Danny nodded at him, smiled softly and turned away.  “I’m not a scared little kid this time around.  I’m not running this time.  I’m not hiding from anyone.  Come find me any time you want.  You obviously know how to.”

He walked away quickly.  He walked away while he was still able to, while he still had the last word.  He felt strangely exhilarated, though half of it was through sheer terror and hate, but that was okay, it was more than that.  It was refreshing he thought in amusement, to get the last word, to get to walk away in one piece. 

He walked away knowing who was behind all the shit he’d been getting, and why.  It was all simple, he told himself.  His phone went off again as he neared the car park.  It was Michael.  “Mike?”

“Danny! For fuck’s sake why don’t you ever answer your phone?”

“Still getting used to it,” Danny laughed in reply. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just me and Anthony getting shitfaced in the pub.”

“The one near your flat?”

“Of course.  Where are you?”

“On the way,” Danny grinned and hung up.

17

Anthony

 

 

When he arrived at the house, the police car was already there, its lights spinning fluorescent shadows across the driveway and the road.  He slowed down, breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down.  The front door was open, and he could see Chrissie stood there, pink dressing gown pulled tightly around her chest.  She looked like she had been crying, and was talking to a sturdy looking policeman, who stood back as Anthony approached.  Her eyes changed when she saw him.  They hardened and narrowed, and her lips tightened, as did her arms around her body.

“Chrissie?” he moved past the policeman, sliding his arm around her shoulder. “What happened?”

“Are you Anthony Anderson?” the policeman asked, notebook and pen at the ready.  Anthony nodded, moving back enough so that he could see the living room floor covered in shining glass.  He looked back at the policeman. He had what Anthony perceived to be an evidence bag in his other hand.  Inside it was a piece of paper and a rubber band.  “This was attached to the brick sir,” he said. “It would appear the person who sent those letters today, has taken things up a notch.”

Anthony peered into the bag. “Photo of Danny?” he asked and the policeman nodded. “So you’ll be taking this seriously now, won’t you? Letters and graffiti is one thing, but smashing windows! I’ve got little kids in there! Where were they Chris?”

“They were upstairs luckily,” Chrissie said tightly. “I was just about to get in the shower when I heard the crash.”

Anthony looked again at the glass on the floor. “And no one saw anything or anyone?”

“We’ve got officers checking with the neighbours now sir,” the policeman replied. “We spoke to Mr. Bryans earlier sir, about the letters?  He informed us that five people have received them?  It might be wise if you were to contact those people and warn them about this.”

“I will,” Anthony nodded. “Or you guys could drive around their houses, check they’re okay?”

“We haven’t really got the manpower to do that this evening sir,” the policeman told him regretfully. “But if anything untoward happens at any of their houses…”

“Call you,” Anthony finished for him, and rolled his eyes. “You need to find out who is behind this,” he said then. “You need to get people on this.  Do you even know the history behind this?  Has Danny told you?”

“We are aware of Mr. Bryan’s special circumstances, yes,” the man nodded. “I’m actually going there next, to see if he can provide us with more information as to who might have it in for him.”

“Well that’s obvious,” Anthony said, glaring at him. “Lee Howard’s father is still alive, plus he had a brother, and then there’s good old Jack Freeman, do you know about him?”

“The name seems to ring a bell,” the policeman said, looking thoughtful, pen poised over notebook. Anthony felt Chrissie pull away from him then.  He turned in surprise and watched her stalk angrily down the hall and into the kitchen.  He sighed, knew he would have to deal with her in a moment, and looked back at the man.

“It should ring a bloody bell,” he said, scathingly. “He was one of you lot until he got forced into early retirement after some kid accused him of molesting him.  You know about that?” The policeman was writing in his notebook and did not look up as he shook his head briefly. “I had to do my own digging around to find that out,” Anthony went on. “The case against him was dropped because the witness got scared.  Jack Freeman was good pals with Lee Howard, he worked for him and rented a flat from him in Redchurch.  Danny accused him of some less than savoury activities at his trial, but it was all pushed aside because there was no proof.”

“And you think it’s possible he could be behind all this?”

“Of course it’s possible,” Anthony raged. “He’d have it in for us, just like Howard’s family would.  Because we found out about him, he lost his job and his home.”

“We’ll look into it,” the police officer assured him, slipping his pen and notebook back into his top pocket. “You need us to sort this window out for you?”

“Yeah that would be good. I have a feeling I’m about to cop it big time from my wife.  Do you mind?”

“Go ahead,” the officer gave him a small smile. “We’ll be out here for a moment. I’ll give you a shout when we’re ready to go.”

Anthony nodded and went down the hall and into the kitchen.  He found Chrissie sat at the table with a mug of tea in front of her.  She was shaking, and her mouth was a hard, straight line.  She did not even look at him as he walked in. “Are the kids asleep?” he asked, and she nodded. “That’s a relief.”

“Yes it is,” she said, her voice small and controlled. “It is a relief they weren’t sat on the sofa right under that window when it exploded.”

“Chrissie…”

“You lied to me.”

“I…”

“You lied to me.  You knew about those letters.  Those warnings.  You didn’t tell me.  You left us here to be with them.”  She still would not look at him.  Anthony floundered.  He had no idea what to say, because she was speaking the truth.  He pushed his hands miserably into his pockets.

“I didn’t know this would happen. I went to Mike’s to talk to him and Dan. To figure out what to do.”

“Those letters warned you Anthony.  You didn’t listen to the warning, and this happened.” She finally met his eyes, and he could see the explosion simmering behind hers.  “You lied to me.  You put us in danger.”

“No,” he said quickly, his objection rising now. “I didn’t.  I didn’t know this would happen!”

“Don’t kid yourself.  I just heard you and the policeman.  You said yourself these people, whoever they are, would be capable of this.  You knew that.  Don’t try to make out you didn’t know this sort of thing could happen!” Her voice had risen slightly now, but he could still see she was holding onto herself, perhaps trying not to explode while there were still people milling about.  He watched her breathe in and out, her eyes falling back onto her mug of tea, her hands curled around it.  “Why didn’t you tell me about the letter then?”

“I didn’t want to worry you or scare you,” he told her quickly. “Not until I knew more.”

“You were very sneaky, Anthony.”

“How was I?”

“You took the kids over to your brothers, to leave the letter there with Danny, didn’t you?  So the police wouldn’t have to come here to collect it.  So I wouldn’t find out.  The kids told me they’d spoken to your friend, the one who had a long holiday, they said.” She puffed angry breath out through her nostrils. “You took them to see him, when you knew I wouldn’t like it.”

“Okay Chrissie,” Anthony half wanted to touch her, to reassure her and comfort her, but he didn’t, he leaned instead against the wall beside the table, and tried to meet her eyes.  “That is true.  I didn’t want the cops coming here and worrying you, so I took the letter over there.  We didn’t go in.  We left it with him at the door.  Then we went to the park.”

“All very sneaky,” she repeated. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore, since that man came back.”

“That man’s name is Danny,” Anthony cried at her impatiently, “and if you would just meet him and give him a chance, you would know why I’m friends with him, and you would know why I care about him and want to help him!”

“I don’t want to meet him,” Chrissie said, glaring straight at him now. “Why would I want to meet someone like that?  A murderer?”

Anthony’s mouth dropped open in hurt and surprise.  It felt somehow like she had wounded him, not Danny, by saying it like that.  He shook his head at her and wondered why he suddenly felt like she was a stranger too. “Chris,” he said, “don’t say it like that.  I’ve told you why he did it.  I’ve told you why it happened.  If you met him, you would like him, you would understand!”

“I don’t want my children anywhere near that man!” she shouted suddenly, and got to her feet, shoving the chair back behind her.  She pointed her finger across the table at Anthony. “Which means as long as he is living with your brother, you are not to take my children there!”

“You’re overreacting, you’re just scared and shocked, and I can understand that, but you have to try to understand Chrissie…”

“I don’t have to try and understand anything Anthony.  It’s all very simple.  You’ve been warned to stay away from him, because someone wants to get back at him, because of what he did, right?”  She looked at him, her neatly plucked eyebrows raised in question.  Anthony shrugged and nodded. “You ignored that warning, you kept it from me, and this is the result!” Chrissie threw up her hands. “We could have been hurt you stupid man!  While you’re over there drinking beer with your layabout brother and his murderer friend!”

“Chrissie,” Anthony looked at her darkly.  “I am warning you..”

“Warning me?” she laughed at him incredulously. “What are you warning me?  Not to speak my mind?  Not to speak the truth?”

“Look,” he tried again, tried to push down his anger at her, “no one was hurt.  The police are onto it now. They are taking it seriously.  Something will be done.”

“And I’m supposed to take the risk?  I’m supposed to sit in this house with the kids, like sitting ducks?  You know what you have to do Anthony, and you need to make your mind up.”

“What does that mean?”

“Us or them, that’s what it means!” Chrissie folded her arms over her dressing gown again.  She glanced up at the ceiling momentarily, and then glared back at him, and he thought for a moment then, that she really hated him. “You need to do what the letter said, and stay away from that man.  So we’re left alone. I can’t believe I even need to say this to you.”

“Chrissie, he is my friend, and he needs me…”

“And we are your family and we need you!” She screamed back at him, and now he saw the tears breaking through, flowing from her eyes. “He is a grown man, who put himself in that situation! There is nothing you can do anyway, not without causing more trouble and putting us all in danger!”

“Chrissie, you can’t make me choose.  You can’t make me do that.” He looked at her, his eyes begging.  She swallowed her tears, walked around the table and arrived in front of him.

“It should be easy for you,” she said, “us or him.  I mean it.  You have nothing more to with that man, or I am taking the kids to my mums and not coming back.  I mean it Anthony.”  She turned, opened the kitchen door and tried to leave the room.  He wasn’t having it.  That was not going to be the end of the conversation.  Her, dropping that nasty little threat on him, and walking out.  He reached out, before he knew what he was doing, and grabbed her arm.  She froze, glaring up into his face.

“You can’t threaten me like that,” he hissed down at her.  She tried to pull away but he held on, he tightened his grip and pointed with his other hand into her face.  “Don’t you dare fucking threaten me like that!  It’s all right for you, you had it so fucking easy! You’re nothing but a spoiled little princess who has no fucking idea what life is like for some people growing up.”

He watched her top lip curl back at him. “Don’t give me that self-pitying shit.”

“It’s not shit, Chrissie.  It’s the truth.  What is wrong with you?  Why don’t you have any sympathy or empathy for other people?”

“I only have sympathy and empathy for my family, Anthony,” she said back to him, her eyes blazing now.  “They are the only things that are important to me.  You have to decide what is important to you.”

“Never realised you were such a bitch, that’s all.” He dropped her arm, and his eyes tracked quickly up and down her body.  She stared at him for a second or two, breathing fiercely through her nostrils, before lashing out suddenly and slapping him across the face.  Anthony stepped back, his cheek stinging.  He lifted his hand, and her eyes jerked fearfully towards it.  He dropped it again.  “Chrissie, if you knew me at all, you would know I can’t just turn my back on my friend, or my brother.  At one point I was all they fucking had, you know.  I was like their dad, can’t you understand that?  Okay, they may be grown ups now, but they’ve never had what you had, they’ve never had stable parents, adults to look up to.”

Chrissie moved towards the door again, and Anthony, stepped forward, blocking her way and grabbing her by the shoulders suddenly.  He felt like he was losing her, but it wasn’t so much that which frustrated and saddened him, it was his inability to get her to understand.  “Please listen to me,” he tried, keeping his voice calmer.  “Just listen.  Imagine you are Mike, right?”

“I don’t want to imagine I am him!”

“Please Chrissie!  I am trying to get you to understand!  Just hear me out, and then I’ll stop, I’ll never mention it again.  You can do what you want.  You can leave me if that’s what you really want to do.”

She was shaking her head again, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re even prepared to consider it…we mean that little to you!”

“That’s bollocks and you know it! You mean the world to me, all of you do! But when you met me Chris, you knew I was taking care of my brother.”  He found himself staring urgently into her eyes, as he held her firmly by the shoulders. “You knew that and you knew why.  He hasn’t got anyone else, he never has, just me, yeah?  And Danny is the same.  I looked out for them Chris, I did all I could to protect them and fucking feed them and make sure they were okay.  When we all lived together for that year, we were like a little family, you know?  I can’t just turn my back on them now, just because they are adults, or because I have you lot.  I can’t.  I can’t do it.  It’s unfair of you to ask me.”

He watched her taking this all in.  He wondered if she had really listened to any of it, if any word of it struck a chord with her.  She lifted one hand and wiped the tears from her cheek, and then she crossed her arms tightly across her middle again.  “You can’t do it,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, “even though it means putting us in danger.”

“You have to keep things in perspective,” he begged her. “The police are onto it, we all are.  It won’t take long, and we’ll find out who’s behind it.”

“And then what?” she spat at him viciously, her nostrils flaring again. “What will you do then?  One of you will stab them to death?  Hey?”

Anthony dropped his hands from her shoulders, and let them hang down at his sides.  He considered her carefully.  He felt his heart pounding with fear. “Chrissie,” he said, realising he was close to tears now. “No one has ever hurt you the way Danny was hurt.  You can’t judge him for what he did.  He was sixteen years old.”

“He took someone’s life,” she said, her voice brittle with disgust.

“He had no choice!” Anthony shouted suddenly, turning away from her and raking his hands back through his hair in utter frustration. “Why can’t you just listen to me and understand? I’ve told you before!”

“God, you’ll do anything to defend him won’t you?” Chrissie said then, stepping closer to him, her expression curious, even as her eyes leaked more tears. “I knew he meant a lot to you, but I never realised how much until now.  You’re prepared to lose your family over him!  A murderer!  Someone who got drugged up and killed someone!”

“Okay, that’s it, that’s enough, I can’t do this,” Anthony shook his head, pulled away as she reached for him, and headed down the hallway.  He heard her following him.  He held up his hands.

“Don’t you walk away!” she cried after him. “If you walk away from me now, that is it! I am packing the kids up and going!”

Anthony stopped, turned around and planted his hands on his hips.  He felt ripples of anger running through him, coursing like energy up and down his body.  He glanced momentarily out into the night through the open front door, and then looked sharply back at his wife.  “I don’t know what else to say to you,” he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I understand why you are angry and frightened, but if you loved me you would have faith in me that it’s all under control.  That I will never ever let anyone hurt you or the kids.  And you would understand that Mike and Danny are my family too.  You have never accepted Michael, and you won’t even give Danny a chance.  I don’t know where we go from here, except we should calm down for now, calm down, and talk about it properly in the morning.”

He waited.  He waited for her to see sense and reason, to let her anger die down, and realise what she was prepared to lose.  Instead, she said nothing.  She looked him up and down, ran her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, then turned and walked slowly, wordlessly up the stairs.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18

Lucy

 

            She had been sat expecting a brick.  She stayed in the lounge, assuming that if anyone threw a brick, they would throw it from the front of the house, and hit the kitchen window.  So she had set herself up for the evening in the lounge, laptop on, wine on the go, and nerves rattled beyond belief.  Anthony’s window had been smashed yesterday evening, and an hour or so later, a brick had been hurled from the deserted high street into Michael’s flat.  It had smashed through the thin glass, the brick rolling to a stop just behind the sofa Danny and Michael were sat on.  The police had knocked on their door just seven minutes later to a scene of anguish and rage. 

Now she wondered if it was going to be her turn.  She had heard nothing from Kay or Billy, but kept her mobile clutched in her hand at all times.  Danny was on his way over.  They’d had a fraught conversation on the phone, trying to decide what to do for the best.  He wanted to be with her, to protect her, but he was worried if he came to hers it would draw more attention her way.  The police had advised him to keep calm and carry on his life as normal, albeit more vigilantly. 

She even had the TV turned down low, as her eyes darted every few seconds to the front door she could see from the lounge.  She thought of Carl upstairs, and wondered if she ought to call him down, until Danny arrived.  She was expecting a brick at any moment, but what happened instead was everything went black.  Everything died, the lights, the heat, the laptop and the TV.  Lucy found herself suddenly wrapped in a silent and eerie blackness.  She had her legs tucked under her on the sofa, and eased them out slowly, one by one.  She looked down at her phone and started to type in a message to Danny; power cut!! Where r u? Getting scared!

She got up then and went to the lounge window, trying to determine if the whole street was out, or not.  Then she remembered Carl and typed in another text message; has your power gone out?  The houses in the road behind hers all looked okay, with yellow light spilling from every window.  Lucy held her phone to her chest and tiptoed slowly down the hall and into the kitchen.  She was too afraid to get too close to the window, but peered out from the doorway, trying to see if the streetlights were on or not.  Her phone beeped then making her jump. “Shit,” she breathed, and opened the message.  It was Carl; not at home babe, at the pub! U ok? She was about to reply when the phone beeped again.  Danny this time; just left Mike’s.  Walking.  Be twenty mins. U ok?  She quickly typed back; fine, just a blackout. Hurry up tho.

Lucy left the kitchen and went back to the lounge.  She picked up her glass and finished the wine in it.  She laughed at herself for being so scared, but the sound of the laugh in the empty dark flat scared her even more.  She lowered herself back onto the sofa, jumping again when the landline phone called suddenly. “Christ,” she muttered, snatching it up from the handset on the coffee table.  “Hello?”

Silence.  Fear crawled slowly up her spine.  “Hello?” she said again, her voice a croak.

“I can see you.”  The voice was hoarse and growling, deep and throaty, yet whispered.  Lucy felt panic setting her body on fire.  Her skin began to tingle and her hairs stood on end.

“Who is this?” she asked, one hand going to her mouth.  Her eyes scanned the dark room helplessly.  There was a noise from the other end of the phone.  It sounded a bit like the caller was licking their lips.

“You look lovely,” the voice said then.  Lucy was horrified.  Every ounce of her body wanted to simply throw the phone to the floor, but somehow she stopped herself.  There was the possibility it was just a crank call, some stupid pervert, but that was probably just too much of a coincidence.  This had to have something to do with Danny.

“You’re the person making trouble for Danny,” she said, breathlessly, her voice now a terrified squeak.  She waited while the silence spun out again.  Her eyes flicked from the door to the window, and back again.  She wondered how it was possible for the room to be that dark.  She could barely make out any of the furniture, any of the pictures on the walls.  She tightened her grip on her mobile, willing Danny to call again, willing him to say he was minutes away.

“Give the little man a message,” the voice said finally. “Tell that shit stain he’s got it coming.  Tell him it’s not over until I say it’s over.”  That was it.  The line went dead.  Lucy dropped the phone to the floor, and covered her mouth with both hands, sobs building up violently in her throat.

 

She sat in silence until she heard the tap at the door.  She was shaking from head to toe, as she rose from the sofa and went to the door.  The power was still out.  “Is it you?” she asked at the door.

“It’s me,” Danny replied, and Lucy felt the relief swamp her, making her knees feel weak, and her stomach a mess, and she tore open the door, pulled him in by his arms and shut it quickly again.  He looked at her, alarmed. “What is it?  What’s happened?”

“No bricks,” she told him, eyes wide, head shaking. “Just the power went out, then a few moments after that someone called me.” Lucy watched the horror and the realisation flooding his face in the hallway.  He had one hand on the wall behind her, the other touched her face wonderingly.

“Who called?”

“On the landline,” she mumbled, “private number. A deep growly voice.”

“What did they say Lucy?” Danny’s hand had now moved to her shoulder, and he held her there, his grip gentle but firm.

“First they said, ‘I can see you’,” Lucy remembered, and fresh horror crawled through her skin, making her want to curl up into a little ball. “Then they said, ‘you look lovely’…so I said, ‘you’re the person after Danny’, and there was a bit of silence, and then they said to give you a message.” Lucy looked up into his face.  The fear was so horrible, she thought then, it was like something alive, something creeping all over you, and deep inside your veins, making it hard to breathe.  His deep blue eyes were fixed on hers, and his hand tightened slightly on her shoulder while he waited for it.  Lucy swallowed, took a deep breath that still didn’t feel like enough. “He called you ‘little man’, and he said ‘tell that shit stain he’s got it coming. Tell him it’s not over until I say it’s over.’” Lucy watched Danny’s eyes cloud with recognition and then pain.  He moved his hand from hers shoulder and pushed both his hands slowly, awkwardly into his pockets.  He stared back at her for a few moments, which for some reason made Lucy want to cry and hold onto him tightly.

“What does it mean?” she whispered eventually, reaching out for him, closing her hand upon his arm.  “Who is it?”

“Did it sound like Howard?” Danny asked then, tilting his head slightly.  Lucy stared at him.  She tried to read what must be running through his mind, but all she could really see was sadness.

“I don’t know,” she told him.  “Sort of.  Really low and deep.  We have to call the police don’t we?”

He nodded. “Yeah. That sounds like him, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

Danny rolled his eyes to the ceiling, taking a huge breath, before he looked back at her. “What you said.  That’s how he talked.  That’s what he always called me.  Little man was one.  Shit stain was the other one.  Sounds like him.”  He shrugged at her, his lower lip trembling.  Lucy could bear it no longer.  She flung both arms around his middle and pressed her face into his chest. 

“It wasn’t Howard, Danny,” she told him. “He’s dead.  It must be his dad.  It just must be.”

Danny nodded at her, but said nothing.  He moved his hands from his pockets and rubbed them up and down on her back.  “I’m so sorry,” he said then, resting his cheek down upon the top of her head.  Lucy hugged him tighter.

“Don’t you be sorry.  This is not your fault.  These people are evil.  His family are evil like him.  They can’t just let it lie.  They want to get back at you!”

“You must have been so scared baby,” he wrapped his arms around her then, squeezing her into him.  Lucy relaxed into the close embrace.  She thought she could probably stay there like that forever.  “Bastards…”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she assured him. “I’m okay now you’re here.”

He pulled back then, frowning at the door. “Doesn’t feel safe here.”

“Let’s call the police,” Lucy reasoned, tugging him towards the dark lounge. “And I’ll get my dad over.  I’ll get him to look at the electrics.”

“Did you find anything out?” Danny let her pull him into the lounge, where her laptop sat, dark and silent on the sofa.

“I’d just started,” she told him.  “I’d started with Friends Reunited but none of them are on it.  Then the power went.  I don’t understand why I didn’t get a brick.  I don’t understand any of this.”

“It’s pretty simple really,” Danny sighed, dropping onto the sofa with her.  She picked up the other phone from the floor and held it between her knees for a moment, looking at him.  “I killed his son.  He hates me.  I’m out of prison and he wants his revenge.  He’s going through you lot to get to me, just like his son did back then.  The only thing is, I’ve got to find him somehow.”

“How bad do you think this will get?” Lucy asked him then, crossing her legs up on the sofa, and wiping away the fresh tears that kept filling her eyes.  She realised she was shivering violently now, but how much was from the flat growing colder, and how much was from fear, she did not know. 

“Worse than this I think,” he answered quietly.  He looked resigned, she thought then.  She had been expecting him to erupt into rage, to shout and swear, and storm out into the street to look for the caller, the thrower of bricks, but instead he seemed so horribly sad, and quiet.  “I’ve got to find him.”

“Who, Howard’s dad?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Any of them.  They want me, right?  They want to talk to me.  Kick my head in, whatever.  Whatever they want, they want it from me, right?  They’ll only leave you lot alone once they get that.”

“Bastards,” Lucy said again, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’ve been through enough.  What is wrong with them?  I don’t understand it!”

“Maybe they want the money,” he said then, his tone lifting slightly. “Yeah, maybe that is it.  Maybe I could let them have the money, and then they’d leave me alone.”

“Can you call the police please Danny?  I don’t think I can do it.  I’m a nervous bloody wreck.” Lucy passed him the phone and he took it from her gently, and shifted closer to her on the sofa, dropping one arm around her shoulders.  With his other hand he tapped the number in quickly.  Lucy supposed he must know it off by heart by now. 

“They’ll be sick of the sound of me by now,” he whispered to her, as if he had read her mind.  She smiled, looked at her empty wine glass, and wondered if she was brave enough to go into the kitchen and get the rest of the bottle. “Hi there,” Danny said into the phone. “My name’s Danny Bryans, I’ve called a few times lately…Yeah…About harassment?”  Lucy got up then, patting his knee as she did and gesturing to her empty glass.  He nodded, and she went slowly into the kitchen, feeling her way through the dark with her feet edging out carefully.  She supposed she ought to relax now really.  Danny was with her, the police were being informed, and whoever had called had achieved what they wanted.  She was terrified in her own home.

Anthony’s wife had gone to stay with her parents for a few days, taking the children with her.  Lucy had heard this from Michael via text messages.  She found it unsettling and disturbing.  It was like a nasty disease was spreading among them all, something dark and twisted tainting all of their lives.  She shuddered in the kitchen, her teeth chattering together loudly.  She grabbed the wine bottle from the fridge, and a second glass for Danny and hurried back to the lounge, not daring once to glance at the windows or the door.  She huddled back on the sofa beside him and poured them each a glass of wine. 

“Okay thank you,” he was saying into the phone.  He put his arm back around her, and she nuzzled her cheek into it, closing her eyes briefly. “I’ll be at my girlfriends house waiting….That’s right, 19a Barrack road…okay, goodnight.”  He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the table.  He pushed his hair back, and then accepted the glass she nudged him with.  “Thanks.”

“Well?”

“The usual,” he sighed, turning to face her. “They’ll come by in the morning.  Call back if anything else happens.” He laughed a little. “Lock doors. Brilliant.  Now I remember why we never bothered with them back when we were kids.”

“They’ll be here in the morning,” Lucy reassured him, keeping her head rested against his arm.  “There’s nothing they can do now anyway.”

“What about your power?  I can take a look, but I wouldn’t have a clue.”

“Leave it.  I don’t want you to leave my side.  I’ll text Dad in a minute.  He can come by in the morning.  We’ll be okay until then.”

“But we’re not okay, are we?” Danny said, his eyes dropping away from hers, that desolate look filling his face again.  “None of us are.  Not since I came back.  Michael and Anthony fighting.  All this shit.  Now Anthony’s wife has had a fit and walked out.  This can’t go on Luce. You’re all in the firing line, because of me.”

“Cowards,” Lucy muttered, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head. “That’s what they are, whoever they are.  Disgusting vile cowards.  Can’t just let you live your life.  Isn’t eight years in jail enough for them?”

“Obviously not,” Danny shrugged.

“What are you going to do?”

“Find them,” he said, and met her gaze again.  She felt horrified, and desperate, and it reminded her of so many other moments of pure fear, and worry and helplessness.  She tried hard not to cry again.  She so wanted to be strong for him.  She thought back to all the years she had felt like she was watching him from afar.  They were friends, then they were not friends, they were almost more than friends, but then back to nothing again.  God, it had been agonising.  She had felt useless, totally unable to help him, not even knowing what was wrong, until Michael took her to the cafe one day and told her the whole story.  And that had made her feel even worse.  Knowing that every time he had not turned up to school, was not because he was on drugs, but because he was beaten down, because those men were giving him the drugs, keeping him in line, because going to school was the last thing on his mind in a life like that.  She felt her stomach twisting into knots.  She wanted to hold his face and pull it near and kiss every inch of it.  She wanted to do what she had told his mum.  Let him go, tell him to make sure she was really the one for him, because she sure as hell knew he was for her, she always had known, but what if it wasn’t the same for him?  What if she wasn’t the one, and he just didn’t know? She wanted to tell him she would wait, she would sit back and wait, and if he came back to her, then that was it, that was forever.

Now was not the time.  His face was restless, his eyes troubled.  She could see the thoughts tumbling through his mind.  “How?” she asked him.

“Not sure.  Don’t suppose they’ll be that hard to find.  Maybe I just need to make myself more visible.  I don’t know.  Hey, let’s forget about it for now,” he smiled at her, another one of those magnificent smiles that did nothing with his eyes, and he drank some wine, and pulled the throw up over the two of them.

“You’re so brave,” she told him then.  “You’re so calm.  I don’t know how you do it.  This is just all so unfair.”

“It is unfair,” he agreed.  “But maybe I can sort it out.  Maybe it’s just one last little blip you know?  One last little thing to iron out, and then it really will be all  over.”

Lucy nodded.  She drank her wine, and he drank his, their arms around each other, their heads touching.  They drank until the wine was all gone, and they drank until they both fell asleep on the sofa, their bodies entangled.

16

Danny

 

With the letter in hand Danny started up the stairs, back to the door he had left propped open with an old brick.  He stared down at it, questioning whether it would be okay to open it and have a look, or whether that would interfere with the finger prints.  As he neared the top step he heard the sound of Michael being sick in the bathroom, and grimaced to himself.  Anthony had seemed strange, he thought then, strange and awkward.  He had seemed in a hurry to shepherd his kids out of there, but Danny couldn’t blame him for that.  Who would want their children knowing about all this shit?

He thought back to his telephone call to the police.  It still felt weird, asking for their help, when for so long he had thought better of trusting them. The policeman had sounded non-committal on the phone.  They would either come out today or they wouldn’t.  Maybe he should phone back and let them know there were now three letters.  He had just reached the top door when he remembered he had not checked the doormat, and turned around to go back down.  He had checked three times since the phone call from Anthony.  In his head, he had pictured the sender, whoever it was, posting to Anthony and then walking down the road to post to Michael.  It would make sense to do it in that order.  He hoped the police would at least sit and try to figure out what order the letters had been posted in, which would probably let them know if there was more than one person involved.

Danny saw the envelope when he was half way down the stairs.  He must have been stood on it when he was talking to Anthony.  He could already see the dusty footprint from his trainer on it.  He hurried down the last few steps and seized it in his hand. It was addressed to Mr. Michael Anderson, and just like all the others, it appeared to have been hand posted.  Danny lingered for a few moments in the hallway, holding both envelopes, looking from one to the other, and feeling the indignation, the anger rising slowly but steadily inside of him. I’ve paid for what I did, he felt like yelling at the top of his lungs, eight years in prison! I took it, so I’ve paid!  This just seemed unfair, he thought, shaking his head helplessly.  Creepy, and unfair. Please let the cops do something, he thought to himself as he opened the door up again, meaning to scan the outside area, in case there were any signs of anyone.

He pulled the door open, stepped out and blinked in the sunshine. November had started brisk and cold, and it was one of those mornings when the Autumn sun seemed huge and startling.  He rubbed his arms and gazed up and down the back alley.  There was a figure, he noticed suddenly, and held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.  A figure, close to Michael’s car, sort of bent over and fiddling with something.  Danny felt sudden rage wash through him and marched out from the hallway, waving the letters.  “Hey!” he shouted, and the figure stopped what they were doing and looked up in surprise.  It was a woman, he saw.  She had a shoulder bag on and had been rummaging around in it.  “What do you want?” Danny demanded, stopping on the other side of Mike’s car.  “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. It was one of those sleek automatic smiles, the smile of a salesman, or a politician, the smile of someone long practiced in the art of getting their own way.  She flicked back a shiny weave of golden hair, and came confidently around the car, with one hand stuck out.  Danny frowned at the hand.  He could see long neat nails, polished a deep purple.  “Daniel Bryans?” the woman asked him, her eyes bright and cheerful.  He stepped back.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing out here?” He waved the letter at her.  “Are these anything to do with you?”

The woman came closer, her gaze fixed on the two envelopes, whilst deftly fishing a business card out from her pocket. She held the card out to him and he took it unsurely.  “Caroline Haskell,” she informed him, still eyeing the letters.  “Daily Echo.  I’m a reporter.  Michael must have told you I’ve been asking to meet with you?”

“Oh,” Danny said, glancing at the card before passing it back to her. “Yeah, he did.  I’m not interested, sorry.” He turned away and headed back to the door.  The woman hurried after him, catching him up and skipping along his side.  He looked down at her and saw her eyes travel intently from his, down to his feet, and then slowly back up again.  She was smiling, and she had perfect straight white teeth.

“Nobody told me you were so good looking,” she said then, stopping him in his tracks.  He stared at her as if she was mad.

“You what?”

The woman giggled and shook her hair back again.  “Just a compliment,” she said, lifting one hand to her mouth in a quick and secretive gesture, as if no one else was meant to hear.  “How are you doing?  You’ve been out of prison for about five weeks now, is that right?”

“I’m not doing an interview with you,” he told her shaking his head slowly.

“Look!” she laughed, patting at her clothes. “I’m not recording you or anything! Just saying hello.  You’re a hard man to track down.”

“Well that ought to tell you something then.” Danny walked the last few steps to the door and went in.  She followed quickly, even placing one manicured hand against the door, should he go to close it.

“What are those letters?” she asked, nodding at them.

“Nothing.”

“You said that too quickly,” she grinned, and winked. “And you accused me of having something to do with them, so I am guessing they are something important, and potentially not very pleasant.”

“Thought you were a reporter?” he snarled. “Not a bloody detective.”

“Well,” Caroline Haskell smiled confidently and shrugged her slim shoulders at him.  “One and the same at times, I can tell you.  And plus there is the less than friendly graffiti someone has sprayed on your door.  Are you being harassed by someone Mr. Bryans?  Or can I call you Daniel?”

“You can go away, that’s what you can do.  I didn’t talk to you lot back then, and I’m not about to now.” Danny moved to close the door, but the reporter blocked it quickly with her small, neat body.  He stared at her in frustration.  She was wearing wide legged black trousers, a lacy cream blouse, and a tight fitting denim jacket.  He looked her over then, as she had done him.  She was still smiling.

“Why was that, by the way?” she questioned.  “Why didn’t you want to talk to us back then?”

“Just go away,” he said.  “Please just go away.”

“You could have told your side of the story.  People only know what was reported at the trial Daniel.  People want to know the truth.”

“It’s none of their business.  And it’s none of yours.”

“Someone seems to think it’s their business,” she replied, nodding at the letters he held.  His face darkened and scowled down at her.

“The police are on their way here,” he told her. “If you don’t get out the way of the door, I’ll tell them you’re harassing me.  Just go away.  I’m not talking to you, get it?”

“But I can help you,” she insisted, finally moving back.  She dragged her card back out and pushed it into his hand.  Was it his imagination or did she splay her fingers out briefly, just over his hand, before pulling back?  “I can help find out who is behind all this.  You know the police, too much other stuff to do, they won’t pay much attention to this.  Not unless something really bad happens.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you know, something physical.  They won’t do anything about graffiti and poison pen letters, assuming that’s what those are? “

Danny breathed out through his nostrils.  He could feel this situation slipping away from him and he did not like it.  He pushed her card into his pocket.  “I can help you…” she started to say again, and he closed the door quickly.

He bounded up the stairs, kicked the brick out of the way and slammed the other door.  Michael was in the hallway, holding a damp towel to his face, and squinting as if it hurt him to open his eyes. “What’s the matter?” he asked Danny instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“These,” Danny shoved the letters at him and stormed into the lounge.  He ignored Kurt trying to jump up at his legs, and went to the window, planting his hands on the wide sill and glaring down at the street below.  Michael came up behind him, sat on the windowsill and opened the letter addressed to him.  His eyes grew wide and he turned his head quickly to Danny.

“Fuckinghell!”

Danny nodded grimly and folded his arms, eyes still on the street.  He didn’t know what, or whom he was looking for, but he had the distinct feeling that whoever had sent the letters, whoever had sprayed the graffiti, was out there somewhere, watching him.  Maybe it was time he did some watching of his own. Michael checked the second letter, Anthony’s one. “This is a fucking sick joke,” he muttered, shaking his head, looking appalled. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’ve called the cops,” Danny told him. “Anthony called this morning to talk to you but I answered your phone.  They’ve been sent to Lucy and Billy today as well, all by hand, how the hell is that possible?”

“Where the hell was this photo taken?” Michael asked, wrinkling his nose up at the photo of Danny on the letter. Danny snatched it and looked for the first time.

“Isn’t that out there?” he said. “The high street?”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed instantly. “Look, you can see the ice cream sign there in the background, that’s outside the little newsagents, you know next to the pizza place?”

“Yeah,” Danny nodded. “When do you reckon it was taken then?”

“Look, what are you wearing?” They both peered down at the photo.  It was mostly a good headshot, but they could just make out some dark green material, close to Danny’s neck.  “That’s your green hoody.  You do wear it a lot though.  It could have been taken any time Dan.  I might even have been with you, who can tell?”

“You don’t remember seeing anyone with a camera any time?  Anyone snapping away?”

Michael shook his head slowly, his eyes solemn. “No, I don’t.  You wouldn’t pay attention to it if you did, would you?”

“Until now,” Danny sighed, and turned back to the window.  Michael put the letter away and placed them both down on the sill.

“Police coming?” he asked. “They must be.  They must take this seriously now.  Some bastard knows where we all live, even fucking Billy! Sneaks around posting these?”

“More than one person,” said Danny, knowing this was true. “They couldn’t do Billy and Lucy and us that quickly.”

“What about your mum?”

“Hey?”

“Text her.  See if she has one.”

Danny sighed again, pulled out his phone and began to type in the message.  Michael joined him in scanning the street. “Someone out there,” he murmured, “some sneaky little bastard out there.  What the hell is it supposed to mean anyway?  Stay away?”

“Assume it’s some sort of threat,” Danny shrugged, finishing the message and tucking his phone back into his pocket.  His fingers met the card then, the card from Caroline Haskell.  He showed it to Michael. “Look who finally caught up with me.”

Michael grinned. “What, just now?  So what did you think?  Hot, right?”

Danny made a face. “Not to me, no.  She was very pushy and smiley.  I told her to go away.”

“She’ll be back,” Michael snorted. “She’s like a dog with a bone.”

“Nosy bitch,” Danny growled.

“Anyway,” Michael said, glancing wearily back at the two envelopes. “They don’t know us very well if they think they can warn us away from you.  Bastards.  You still thinking Howard’s dad could be behind it?”

Danny shivered at both the thought of the old man, and the mention of his old enemy’s name.  Last night’s dream came to him then, in a sudden bolt, like being smacked around the head.  He swallowed hard, as the old shaking dread quivered to life inside his belly.  How well he remembered that feeling.  That heavy, sick feeling he had lived with almost every day back then.  How his body had become so expertly attuned to knowing when trouble was on the way.  His stomach would tighten and clench, soon becoming a hard ball of pain.  His hairs would stand on end, and he would go cold all over.  His heart would feel like contained thunder inside his chest, threatening to rip him in two.  It was always almost a relief when the trouble finally came, when the first punch collided with his body, because the pain of that was different.  He could handle that.  It was the fear that almost drove him crazy.

“I don’t know,” he said, honestly.  “From what mum said, he has good reason.  He never bought what we said about his son.  As far as he was concerned I was a drug crazed kid who stabbed his son to death.  End of.  That’s all he was prepared to believe.”

“Fucking bastard,” Michael sneered.  “You said he had a brother?  Howard?”

“Yeah mum  say’s that’s true, but whoever he is they’d been estranged for years.”

“Maybe he made it up with the old man?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe it’s them.  Howard’s dad and brother. Face it, anyone related to him would have to be just as evil and twisted as him, wouldn’t they?”

Danny felt it again, that sick twisting in his guts.  He felt close to vomiting.  He looked away from Michael and rested his head against the cold thin windowpane, staring down at the street below. “What am I supposed to do Mike?” he asked softly, his breath clouding against the glass. He heard Michael sigh, and felt his hand drop momentarily onto his shoulder.

“We’ll sort it,” Michael told him, and he sounded surer than Danny felt, and he wished that he could believe him.  He also sort of wished he didn’t have to lean on his friends for help, all over again.  “You’re doing all the right things anyway,” Michael dropped his hand and shrugged. “You know, letting the cops deal with it.”

“Do you ever think that’s what we should have done back when we were kids?” Danny asked him, still staring down at the street.  It was busy out there, as usual.  There was a market on.  Traders yelled and bellowed to attract the shoppers attention.  Mothers pushed buggies along, weaving in and out of the crowd. Men walked and smoked, with tough looking dogs on leads.  There were always old people, scruffy people, people who did not seem quite there, wandering around, shuffling away aimlessly. Some sat hunched in doorways, or snuggled on benches, bottles in hands. 

“Why do you say that?” Michael asked him. “We were just kids, for God’s sake. Don’t forget what happened to Anthony, mate.  One minute he’s out of prison, he’s gonna’ be a good boy for a change, then he’s straight back in again, fucking set up by good old Howard and Freeman.  Remember that?”

“Course I do.”

“Well why didn’t you call the cops then?  Have you forgotten?”

“I didn’t call them because Howard said he was friends with them.  He was friends with them.  And Freeman…he was…” Danny did not finish his sentence.  In some ways speaking of Jack Freeman was even harder, even more distasteful than speaking of his stepfather.  His part in it all was still so cloudy, still so shrouded in mystery, and what he could remember, or what he thought he could remember, did not bear thinking about.  He closed his eyes and breathed slowly against the glass.  He could feel Michael beginning to bristle with anger beside him.

“You didn’t call them because you had no reason to trust them Danny.  You have to remember one thing, we were just kids, and it’s all very easy to look back now and say we should have done this, or we should have done that.  You knew what Howard was capable of.  You saw how he got rid of Anthony when he tried to stand up for you.  You thought he’d do the same to us, and you were right.  He would have, one way or another.”

“I can’t help thinking it sometimes,” Danny said, finally pulling back from the window and pressing his palms against his eyes.  “If I’d been smarter, or braver.  You know?  If I’d told them the truth when you sent them around that time.”

“You were fourteen years old!” Michael told him angrily then.  He searched the flat for cigarettes, found an unopened pack on the coffee table and brought them back to the window.  He lit one for himself, handed one to Danny, and held out the lighter for him.  “I can still see you now mate,” he said bitterly, sliding one hand into his pocket, and leaning back against the window.  “You were just a kid.  You were fucking tiny.  That guy was a fucking gorilla, a fucking bully! I would have done just the same as you mate.  I’ve told you that before.  At some time in your life you’ve got to stop blaming yourself for all this shit, you know? You did the best you could, okay?  You tried to keep him away from us.  You even avoided us most the time, so he wouldn’t do anything.  Then you got away when you had the chance.” Michael looked at him, his eyes blazing.  He puffed smoke upwards. “He was the one who came after you.  He could have left you alone, but no.”

“All right Mike,” Danny touched his arm briefly. “All right, calm down.  I was just thinking aloud that’s all.  Thinking what to do.”

“We have two choices,” Michael said. “We stand back and let the police deal with it and see how far that gets us, or we try to find out who is behind it ourselves.”

“Yeah and then what?  If we did find out, then what?”

“Fucking warn them off!” Michael cried. “Fucking give them what for!”

“Anthony said he would come over tonight,” Danny remembered then. “He had his kids with him a minute ago.”

“Good.  We need him.  Maybe we should call Billy and Lucy too.”

“No, just us and Anthony.  But let’s see what the police say first.” Danny turned and leant back on the windowsill, smoking his cigarette, feeling himself calm slowly down again. The sensible voice was back in his head, holding him in place.  See what the police say, see what they want to do, listen to them, do whatever they say…then see what Anthony thinks…let your friends calm you down, keep hold of yourself..and then?  See what else is thrown at you.

            His phone beeped then, making him jump.  He laughed at himself, pulled it out and read the message.  It was from Kay; at work. Will check when I go home for lunch. Tell me what police say. Don’t do anything silly!  He read it out to Michael, who looked at him quizzically.

            “Silly?  Like what?”

            “I don’t know, like go to Howard’s grave and shit on it?” Danny smiled, and Michael returned it easily.

            “Shit on it,” he said, “piss on it, vomit on it, fuck on it!” he laughed out loud, and moved away from the window, walking slowly around the lounge, smoking his cigarette and puffing careful rings of smoke into the air.  “I can’t believe that bastard is still fucking up your life mate, from the fucking grave no less! Unbelievable. It’s not like you can kill him twice is it?”

            Danny could only laugh.  Michael had not changed at all, he thought. He still said exactly what he thought, whether it shocked people or not.  It was good to have someone like that to rely on, someone always on your side.  It had been good back then, and it was good now too, but in a lot of ways it made him feel sad too. Michael should have changed, he realised.  Just like Anthony had.  Married, with kids.  Herding them away from trouble, even though it made him feel bad.  Making the right decisions for his family, but still trying to be a good friend. Danny sighed and gazed around at Michael’s chaotic life, which he had slipped so effortlessly back into.  It was almost as if time had stood still.  They were back together and doing what they knew best.  Drinking, smoking, swearing and getting into trouble.  It would have been funny if it were not so tragic, he thought miserably. We’re too old for all this…We shouldn’t still be living like this.

 

            The feeling grew stronger that evening, when Anthony came to the flat with beers in hand, smiling awkwardly at the two of them, looking like he had gone a few rounds with the wife in order to get out.  “Don’t worry about it,” he told them, when they asked, shrugging off his coat and snapping open a beer. “She’ll have to understand, won’t she?  I’ve done the dad bit all day.”

            “Now you’re doing the join forces against evil bit, once again?” Michael joked, as the three of them settled in the lounge with the beers. Anthony rolled his eyes.

            “What did the police say?” he asked Danny. “Let me guess. It’s not against the law to send photos to people?”

            Danny smirked at him, put his feet up on the coffee table and drank his beer, with Kurt curled up on his lap.  “Something like that,” he answered. “They took all the letters.  Said they’d keep it all on file.  If anything else happens to let them know, blah blah blah.”

            “Fuck all basically,” Michael said, teeth gritted. “No laws broken.  Well except for the graffiti, but that hardly stands out as crime of the century round here.  The letters don’t threaten anyone with anything.  They agreed it was sinister, and they said we should be very vigilant, but at the moment no, still not a lot they can really do.”

            “Have you worked out what order they were posted in?” Anthony asked.

            “Funny you should ask,” replied Michaels, his eyes lighting up. “We did exactly that, didn’t we Dan?  We even told the cops.  Did they write that bit down?  I’m not even sure they did.”

            “We reckon it was two people,” Danny went on. “Because they all definitely got posted this morning. No one remembers seeing anything on the mat last night.  We’re just not sure how early the first one was posted, but we’re pretty sure all five were posted before twelve o’clock.  Mum found hers last,” Danny explained to Anthony’s confused expression. “She went home to check at lunch after I text her.  She had one waiting.  Same one.”  He remained sat back on the sofa, head back, beer in one hand and Kurt curled around the other.  He raised his eyebrows at Anthony. “So it depends.  If the person was on foot, no way they could do all five letters themselves in that time span.  If they were in car, maybe.  But tricky.”

            “How long does it take to drive from here to your mums?” Anthony asked, crossing one leg over the other at the knee.

            “About half an hour, depending on traffic.  So it’s possible.”

            “Am I the only one who knows pretty much what time mine came?  I heard the post drop.  I assumed they were all from the postman.”

            “So you don’t know exactly what time then,” Michael corrected him. “It could have been there already, and the real post just drew your attention to it.”

            “Hmm,” Anthony scratched his chin and nodded. “That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that.  I even went out to check if the postman was still close by.  Thought he might have seen someone.”

            “We need to find a few things out,” Michael said, dragging the conversation back on course.  Danny looked at him, waiting.  His friends seemed calm, he thought, looking at them both.  Calm and intrigued.  “Like exactly where does Jerry Howard live these days?  And Dennis, the brother?  Where does he live?  And the other one.  The slug.  Freeman.”

            “How do we find out?” Danny asked, his lips dry. 

            “Probably not that hard these days,” Anthony shrugged, and then grinned at Danny’s bemused expression. “The Internet,” he explained. “Good old Google. .  Friends United.  We’ll try them all.  See what comes up.”

            “Kind of makes me shudder,” Danny said then. “Thinking about finding any of them.” He swallowed and found his throat was like sandpaper. “You know.”

            “We’ll put Lucy on the case,” shrugged Anthony. “She knows her way around the Internet better than we do.  Shall I text her now?”

            “Yeah, go on,” Danny nodded and drank more beer. Anthony pulled out his phone and started to text.  “But what do we do with what we find out?” Danny asked.  “Give the information to the police?”

            “Depends what we find out I suppose,” Anthony replied, still texting. “Main thing is we find out if there’s any chance it’s any of them.  It’s more a case of working out who the suspects are, you know?  So we can be prepared, for one thing, so we know what we’re dealing with, and so we can tell the cops.”

            “Okay,” Danny nodded, feeling braver.  “Okay then.  It’s a plan.”

            “And in the meantime,” Anthony went on. “Keep the doors locked, look over your goddamn shoulders, and trust no one.  Yeah?”

            “Already doing that,” Michael grinned, but shifted nervously in his chair.  He pushed his dark hair back away from his eyes. “But at least we’re not little kids this time, right Dan?” he looked his way and nodded. “We’re men!  We’re not that easily scared.  Whoever is behind this is a complete and utter fucking loser.  We’ll expose them to the paper, or something!  You can get that hot reporter involved!  She’d bloody love that!”

“Don’t let Lucy catch you saying that,” warned Anthony, pulling his phone back out when it vibrated. He glanced down at it.  “She said her Internet is playing up but she’ll ask her neighbour, bless her. Are you two okay at the moment?”

Danny drained his beer, sat forward and placed the empty can on the coffee table.  “Yeah I think so.  Why?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Anthony.  “Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but I kind of thought you might have ditched this loser here by now, and moved in with her, that’s all.”

“Loser?” Michael spluttered over his beer, but Danny could see he was taking it as a joke.  He looked shyly back at Anthony.

“I wouldn’t want to rush her,” he said, almost apologetically, “or cramp her style.  Besides, I sort of like living with your misfit brother.”

“Misfit?” Michael roared, and they all laughed.

“Seriously though,” said Anthony, looking back at Danny. “You guys are okay?  You’re together and everything?”

“Well I am,” said Danny, “I mean, as far as I know, we are.  Don’t get to see her that much, with her job and everything.”  He caught a second beer when Anthony threw him one.

“You need a job,” Anthony told him, before looking more seriously at Michael.  “You both do.  You can’t spend the rest of your lives sitting in this shithole getting drunk.”

“Oh God, here we go,” Michael rolled his eyes and got up from the sofa. “I was wondering how long it would take.”

“Okay, okay,” Anthony held up his hands. “I won’t say another word.  It’s your lives, and all that.  Do whatever makes you happy.”  He didn’t have to say another word, Danny thought, watching him.  Do whatever makes you happy. An interesting piece of advice, and obviously Anthony’s indirect way of pointing out that this was not.

“Maybe we like sitting in this shithole,” Michael was saying, as he crossed the room to put another CD on.  “Maybe we don’t care about having aspirations and all that shit.”

“I should have raised you better,” Anthony said with a sigh, and a shake of his head.  He grinned at Danny playfully. “I was hoping you would be a good influence on him, you know.  Kick his arse into action.  Drag him down the job centre with you.”

“No we’re just thinking of ways we can spend all his money,” Michael said, as an old Stone Roses album started to play behind him.  He grabbed his cigarettes from the table and slumped back onto the sofa beside Danny.

“Any thoughts?” Anthony questioned, just as his phone began to vibrate loudly again in his pocket.

“Lots of thoughts,” Danny shrugged, though in truth spending any of the money still felt disgusting to him.  He was sharing the rent with Michael, and chipping in for food and bills, which seemed only fair.  His mother however kept phoning him, telling him about houses for sale, houses he could afford.  Then you’ll be settled, she kept insisting, as if somehow staying with Mike was akin to being homeless, you’ll have a decent life, you can start a career, you can do something with your writing.  It all sounded enticing of course.  His own house. He could let Lucy and Michael move in.  He would have the time and money to decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.  But he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that it was Howard’s money, that Howard had earned it and sweated for it in that nightclub, night after night.  He had been a grafter, no one could take that away from him.  He had turned that place around and made it a huge success.  Danny thought about his own part in it all, how he had gone along to wash and collect glasses. How he had spent most of his time there high on speed, and trying to avoid getting on his stepfathers nerves.  He shook himself out of the memories.  Anthony’s phone was going off again, and he groaned at it.

“It’s Chrissie!”

“Don’t answer it!” Michael said instantly. “You never come out! You’ve hardly seen Danny at all.”

“It’s all right,” Danny nudged him, as Anthony got up to answer his phone, pacing impatiently out into the hallway. “Don’t be so hard on him Mike.  He can’t help it.  He has to put them first.”

Michael just stared back at him. He drank more beer and glared at his brothers back in the hallway. “Well she never leaves him alone,” he muttered. “Even if he does come out, she’ll call or text the whole time.”

“What?” Anthony was shouting now, holding one hand over his other ear, as if he could not hear his wife well. “You’re joking?  Fuck! Are you alright?  Are you all alright?”

Danny and Michael sat forward, now concerned by the tone of Anthony’s voice.  They swapped glances.  Anthony had turned to face them, phone still clamped to his ear.  His eyes were wide with disbelief. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he was saying loudly, “all right, all right, calm down, just calm down, I’ll be ten minutes!”

He closed the phone, and lunged into the lounge to snatch his jacket from the back of his chair.  “They’ve had a brick through the window!” he exclaimed to Danny and Michael’s waiting faces. He shrugged the jacket on quickly.  Danny leapt to his feet.

“Oh my God!”

“Are they okay?” Michael asked, looking dazed.

“Got to go, I’ve got to go,” Anthony was shaking his head as he headed for the door.  Michael and Danny followed him.

“Has she called the cops?” Michael called.

“Not yet, she’s just about to.  I’ve got to go guys. Fuck!” Anthony looked at them briefly, before shaking his head and wrenching open the door.  Michael leaned out, watching him go down the stairs.

“Jesus Christ,” Danny covered his mouth with both hands. He felt the urge to go to the window, and when he did, he saw the figure of Anthony, tearing past the flat and down the high street towards home.  Michael arrived quietly beside him. “They’ll all get bricks!” Danny realised in horror, looking at him. “I have to warn them!”

“This is bullshit,” Michael said. “The cops have got to do something now.”

“You see?” Danny exclaimed, feeling utterly helpless as the information and what it meant slowly sank in.  “How can I move on?  How the fuck can I start a life, with all this going on?  What am I going to do Mike?  What the fuck am I going to do?”

15

Anthony

November 2004

Thankfully, the letter arrived while Chrissie was working.  She had taken the car to pick up a load of ironing from an elderly client, and would be driving the load to her friend Gina’s house to get it done.  Anthony knew this was an excuse more than anything, to get out of the house, and out in the car on her own, without the kids, without him.  He knew she and Gina would drink endless cups of coffee and gossip about their week, and moan about their other halves, while the ironing took a back seat.  Anthony did not mind.  Just as Chrissie sometimes craved time on her own at the weekend, he craved the time at home, with the kids. 

They were both in the kitchen, when Anthony heard the post drop through the door and onto the mat.  Jess had lined up her army of Sylvanian figures on the kitchen table and was chatting away, making each figure talk out loud.  Liam was working his way through a thick pile of drawing paper, scribbling and doodling ferociously, with his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth.  Anthony grabbed the post from the hallway and took it back into the kitchen to open.  “Daddy can you be this one?” Jess asked, holding out a little furry brown bear figure.  Anthony took it obligingly and tucked it under one arm while he started to open the post.

“Let daddy just open the letters,” he told his daughter, “then I will.  Is it a girl or a boy?”

“It’s the dad,” Jess informed him in a tone that let him know this should be obvious, “that’s the daddy bear daddy!”

“Oh okay.  One minute baby.”

The letter was nestled between his mobile phone bill and one of those letters enticing you to get out yet another bank loan.  He opened it first out of curiosity.  The envelope was plain white and addressed him as Mr. Anthony Anderson.  He tore it open and pulled out the folded up paper inside.  It was thick, good quality paper he thought instantly, and had been folded very precisely and stiffly.  Intrigued he flipped it open and found himself staring at a photo of Danny.  Immediately, Anthony felt his body grow cold.   He swallowed nervously, raised his eyes briefly to check the kids, then lowered them back to the page.  Danny’s photo had been photocopied onto the paper, and positioned right in the middle of the page.  It was a recent photo, he realised with growing dread. It could have been taken days ago.  Above the photo, typed out in black bold letters it read; THIS MAN IS A KILLER.  Underneath the photo were the words; STAY AWAY FROM HIM.  Anthony held the paper with fingers that started to shake without his permission.  He felt like dropping it to the floor and stamping on it, he felt like it was alive and would somehow taint him if he held it much longer.  He turned quickly and dropped it onto the sideboard.  He stared down at the photo, trying to work out where it had been taken and when. 

It looked like it was outside.  Anthony peered closer.  Danny was staring towards the photographer, but not right at them.  It looked like his hair was being blown slightly by the wind.  He was not smiling, but his expression looked calm and relaxed.  Anthony scrutinised the background, trying to pick out anything that would give him a clue as to where it had been taken.  He could see the legs of other people.  Was it a busy high street?  Somewhere with shoppers passing by?

He looked again at the writing.  The message was obviously short and to the point, but did the sender know he already knew Danny had killed a man? Or was the sender simply trying to warn people he had been seen with, in case they did not know?  Anthony rubbed his chin, deep in thought.  There were two ways you could take this he decided.  Someone had it in for Danny, the graffiti was just the start and this was the next step. That much was plain.  But was the letter, addressed to him, meant to warn him, assuming he did not know Danny’s past?  Or did the sender already know he knew?  In that case, it was a different sort of warning, he thought.  Stay away from him.  Stay away from him, or what?

Anthony looked again at the envelope.  He almost smacked himself on the head then.  How had he not noticed before that it had no post mark, no stamp?  It had been hand posted.  Before, or after the postman had been?  Or maybe someone had passed it to the postman and asked him to drop it through?  Anthony picked the letter and envelope up and hurried towards the front door.  “Daddy, the bear!” he heard Jess call out after him tiredly.

“One sec baby!” he called back, and opened the door.  He stuck his head out and looked up and down the road.  Nothing.  No one.  Not even the post van was in sight.  He closed the door slowly and looked back down at the letter.  This was bad, he thought.  This was bad for so many reasons, not least being that whoever sent it knew where he lived.  And assuming he did not stay away from Danny, would they know?  How would they know, and what would they do?  Anthony felt panic then, real live panic banging in his chest, and he quickly stuffed the letter back into its envelope, folded it in two and pushed it into his back pocket.  He walked back to the kitchen, picked up his mobile, his cigarettes and his lighter and opened the back door.

“Daddy!” Jess wailed at him in frustration.

“Ah babes, sorry, I’ve got to call Uncle Mike,” he thought quickly when he saw the agonised look on her face, and reached for the biscuit tin.  He found two kit-kats and chucked them onto the table.  “Have a snack and then I’ll be right back to play okay?”

Outside Anthony closed the door, lit up the cigarette and phoned Michael.  The phone rang and rang, but just before it went to messages, it was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Mike?”

“No, it’s Danny.”

“Oh shit.  Is Mike there Dan?  I need to speak to him.”

“He’s out for the count mate.  Had a late one last night.  Vomit all over the bathroom!”

“You’re joking me?” Anthony sighed and pressed his fist to his forehead. “Um,” he said then.  “Something weird just happened.  Have you had any post yet today?”

“Don’t know,” came Danny’s reply.  “Hold on, I’ll check.”

Anthony waited while Danny checked.  He thought about telling Danny about the letter and felt sick suddenly.  “Nothing,” Danny said down the phone suddenly, making Anthony jump.  “Why?  What’s going on?”

Anthony sighed in reply.  “I hate to tell you this Dan, but whoever did that graffiti has taken things up a level.”

“What?”

“I just got a letter.  Hand delivered.  Addressed to me.  It has a photo of you inside, and says ‘this man is a killer, stay away’.”

There was a long silence, during which Anthony smoked his cigarette, shivered without a coat on, and stole longing glances at the back door and his children beyond it.  There was something creeping and horrible about all of this, he thought.  It left a nasty taste in his mouth when he tried to imagine who had crept up to his door with that letter. Who and why?  Finally he heard Danny clear his throat on the other end of the phone.  “Okay,” he said quietly, sounding shocked.  “I’m gonna’ have to call the cops again Anthony.  They might want to come and get it from you.”

“Okay, no problem,” Anthony told him.  “I’ll be in.  I’m sorry mate, I really am.  I don’t know what to say to you.  This is just…” he shook his head, searching for the words to express the disgust he felt with the package now inside his pocket. “This is just outrageous,” he said, dropping his shoulders and scratching his head.  “I can’t believe anyone would want to do this to you.  I really can’t.”

“I better go,” Danny said in reply.  “Thanks for telling me Anthony.”

Anthony hung up the phone and lingered outside to finish his smoke.  He felt like a prick he realised, dropping that on Danny.  But what else could he do?  You couldn’t just ignore something like that, especially not after the two lots of graffiti.  He paced back and forth for a moment, trying to think.  Like Danny and Michael, Anthony could not help but place Lee Howard’s father as the main suspect.  It had to be someone who was close to Howard, someone who didn’t believe Danny’s version of events, someone who didn’t think he should be free.  Anthony wondered if the old man was getting some help though, if it was him.  He was an old man, wasn’t he?  How would he be following them all about, finding out where they lived and taking photographs?

Oh it was not worth thinking about, Anthony groaned to himself and stubbed his cigarette out against the wall before pressing both hands to his eyes.  Should he tell Chrissie?  Maybe the police would come and go before she got back, but then the kids would tell her, wouldn’t they?  Anthony opened the back door and went back into the kitchen.  He looked at his kids sitting at the table.  Liam with his head still down, and his pen still flying.  Jess was just staring back at him with narrowed eyes. 

“You’re not supposed to smoke daddy,” she said to him, and he smiled at her softly.

“Sorry darling.  Daddy is sorry.”  He looked at her and felt a huge lump forming in his throat.

 

Half an hour later Anthony received a text message from Lucy; don’t know wot do 2-got letter warnin stay away from Dan!! Anthony immediately pressed call, his heart thumping in his chest.  He edged out of the lounge where both the kids were engrossed in a DVD and closed the kitchen door softly behind him.  Lucy answered on the first ring.  “So did I,” Anthony said breathlessly.  “About half an hour ago.”

“Oh my God…” Lucy sounded close to tears.

“What does yours say?”

“It’s a photo of Danny and says ‘this man is a killer, stay away from him’.  I don’t know when it came Anthony.  I went for a jog with my neighbour and it was there when I got back.”

“Hand delivered or stamped?”

“No stamp, so hand I guess.  Yours?”

“Same.”

“Oh my God Anthony, what does this mean?”

“I’ve told Danny already,” Anthony whispered to her.  “He said he was going to call the cops.  You better let him know about yours, because they might want to come and get it.  It’s evidence.”

“Someone knows where you live too,” Lucy breathed down the phone, her voice tight and thin. “Someone knows where we all live, and what our names are, and they know we’ve been with him and….”

“Calm down Lucy,” Anthony told her, though he felt anything but calm himself.  “It’s just like the graffiti babe.  Just words.  It can’t hurt you.  It’s some nasty spiteful person trying to scare us all.”

“Yeah but who?” Lucy hissed back at him. “That’s what I want to know! And they’re doing a pretty good job of scaring me now!”

“Lucy, can you call or text Billy?  I don’t have his number.”

“You think him too?”

“We were all together at the pub that night, last month.  We haven’t all met up together since then.  I just want to see who else got one.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, sounding relieved to have some instruction.  “I’ll call him.”

“Call me back if he got one.”

“Okay Anthony.”

Anthony hung up on her and stood for a moment just staring down at his phone.  He wondered if Danny had told Michael the news yet.  He wondered if the police were on their way.  How seriously would they take it?  Would they really pay that much attention to an ex-con getting picked on?  He nibbled at his fingernails, eyes on his phone, half expecting it to jump into life in his hand at any moment.  He looked at the time and knew that the chances of the police and Chrissie running into each other were getting pretty high.  He would simply have no choice but to explain it to her, which would mean telling her about the graffiti a few weeks back.  He could see her face now.  And she still hadn’t said yes to meeting Danny.  She had a different excuse every time he suggested it.  This was not going to go down very well at all. 

His mind worked quickly then, flicking back and forth between being honest and grown up, telling her what had happened and dealing with the fall out.  Or hiding it from her.  Somehow.  A thought occurred to him then.  Get the letter over to Michael’s place so the police wouldn’t have to come to him.  The kids would enjoy the walk.  They could stop at the park on the way back.  They would not see the police, so they would have nothing to tell their mum.  He felt a stab of guilt then at how quickly his mind had seized on dishonesty, but that didn’t stop him from punching in a quick text to Danny’s phone, whilst slipping into the hall and shoving his feet into his shoes.  “Got to go out kids!” he yelled at the lounge.  “You fancy the park?”

 

Within another thirty minutes Anthony found himself shoving the letter, which had begun to feel like a dirty dead weight in his pocket, into Danny’s hesitant hand.  He had come down to the bottom door to collect it.  “Sorry,” Anthony told him instantly, and he realised he was saying sorry for more than just that.  “Didn’t want to drag the kids up, once they see Uncle Mike I’ll never tear them away.”

Danny looked from one child to the other.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” they both replied dutifully, looking unsurely back at their dad.  Danny turned the envelope over in his hands.

“Lucy too,” he said.  Anthony nodded.

“And Billy.”

“Really?” he looked up.

“She just text me when I was on my way over.  What did the boys in blue say?”

“Just to hold tight,” Danny shrugged wearily and managed a smile. “Wait for them to come around.  I guess they have a lot of other important stuff to do.”

“I’m sorry,” Anthony said again, slipping one hand absentmindedly onto Liam’s shoulder.  He realised then that this was the first time Danny had met his kids, and felt like a complete scumbag.  “I thought it best to get the letter to you, to save them the trouble of coming around.” He shrugged while Danny nodded in understanding, and felt repulsive in his uselessness.

“No problem,” Danny told him, and looked back over his shoulder. “Think Mike is waking up.  I better go and fill him in.”

“Lucy gonna’ come over?”

“No I don’t think so.”

“Oh.  You two okay though yeah?”

“I think so,” Danny sighed and pushed one hand back through his hair.  He looked tired, Anthony thought.  He looked like he was okay, like he was holding it all together somehow, but the dark circles under his eyes gave away the fact this was not easy, and he was only just about managing it.  “Hey,” he said then, brightening a little, “did you ever get shit like this when you got out of jail?”

Anthony grinned awkwardly, and sort of pushed Liam to one side. He leant forward towards Danny.  “They don’t know about all that,” he whispered, his smile trying not to be a grimace.  Danny made a face and bit his lip.

“Oh whoops.  Sorry.”

Anthony sighed, glanced at the kids, and then looked back at Danny. “Look this is all crap,” he said quietly. “I feel like a massive dick.  I’ve got to get these two to the park then home, then I’m gonna’ come back over tonight okay?  I think me you and Mike could do with a chat.”

“Okay,” Danny shrugged at him.  “Sounds cool.  You don’t need to feel like a dick, by the way.”

“I’ll explain later,” Anthony rolled his eyes and moved away from the door. “See you then, okay?”

Danny nodded and closed the door.  “Who was that daddy?” Liam asked as soon as the door had closed.

“You know, me and Uncle Mikes friend, Dan.  I told you all about him, didn’t I?”

“Oh he was the one that had a long holiday,” Liam nodded thoughtfully, hands in pockets.  Anthony held his hand out to Jess and breathed out in relief when she automatically slipped her small hand into his.

“That’s right,” he told Liam. “Right let’s find the park and get you home before mummy gets back, yeah?  We’ve got to get all the mess cleaned up before she gets home haven’t we?” They walked on in silence, but Anthony could not help looking back over his shoulder once or twice.  It felt wrong, he realised, walking away, leaving Michael and Danny there alone.  It reminded him of how awful he had felt when Michael had finally moved out to live alone.  After Danny was sent down it had just been the two of them, lost and swamped in their own guilt and misery over everything that had happened.  It was hard, but they had each other, and that had been enough to get them through, that and visiting Danny as often as he would let them. He had met Chrissie just a few months later, and that had been hard on Michael, he knew.  Sharing his brother had been difficult enough, but he had tried his best not to get in their way, when they had all moved into a bigger flat together.  He had tried, but Anthony had seen the same look in his dark eyes every day.  He would be polite to Chrissie, he would try to be considerate, but he did not think she belonged, and she had felt the same about him.  With the impending arrival of baby Liam, Michael had finally moved out when he was eighteen.  It hadn’t felt right at all, Anthony remembered.  He had felt like he was abandoning him, even though it was Michael’s decision to go.  There had been some relief when Michael had met and moved in with Jenny.  Anthony had been so excited about that.  They would both be fathers now.  They could take the kids out together, and maybe Michael and Chrissie would eventually see eye to eye. But of course Michael had screwed that all up from day one, messing around with other girls, and then ending up on his own again. 

Anthony walked on, aware of the heavy feeling in his gut, the instinct that told him to turn around and go back and be with them.  But then he looked down at his kids and saw he had no choice.  This was nothing to do with them.  They were the ones that needed protecting.  Michael and Danny were grown men now.  He told himself this again and again as he herded his children to the park.  It did not seem to make him feel any better, and neither did the lies he was preparing in his head to tell his wife.