7

Danny

 

            Dreams had been a problem for a long time.  He had been shocked waking up after a peaceful night at Michael’s place, but had known his luck would not last long.  He just felt relieved that his twisting and wrestling, and his final crash out of the bed, had not woken Lucy up.  He looked up at her from where he woke on the floor, and saw her shift and murmur in her sleep, but that was it.  Thank God.  He could still feel the scream, caught at the back of his throat, and he had to cough twice to shake it away.  He dropped his head into his hands for a few moments, and listened to his heart thumping wildly in his chest.  He imagined his blood racing through his veins, waiting for the signal to calm back down. 

            The dreams varied in their make-up.  Some were horrible, filled with images of blood and terror, some were non-descript, and nothing really happened; yet they still emanated a dark creeping kind of fear.  He would wake up sweating and gasping if he was lucky. Most nights he was woken up by the sound of his own screams.  He rubbed his eyes.  He thought of the dreams as penance.  As punishment.  He had told various doctors and therapists over the years about the dreams.  He had explained how violent they were, how terrifying, and how life like.  They seemed to think it was okay.  That he would work through them in his own time.  He thought of them as his inside scars. 

            Danny glanced at the window.  The face from the dream was still there in his mind, stretched in rage, the eyeballs bulging, saliva looping from the top teeth to the bottom.  He remembered running.  Running, running so fast it felt like his lungs might explode, and still, it was not fast enough, or far enough.  The face was behind him, it was whooshing up upon him, and when he looked back over his shoulder at it he was reminded of that scene from ‘The Shining’, where Jack Nicholson’s crazed face appears through the smashed in door.  Sometimes he knew he had looked into that face and been convinced that none of it was real, that he was not a real person at all, but a monster, a monster like in the films. Danny shook his head, shook it all away and looked around him. The blinds were down, but he could see it was daylight, so he got up from the floor and searched for his clothes. 

In contrast to Mike’s place, Lucy’s flat was warm to wake up to.  He liked the way she had decorated it too.  Each room was simple and plain, yet somehow warm and cosy at the same time.  The bedroom walls were a gentle, sea blue.  The large pine bed matched the huge pine wardrobe and dressing table, which, he noted, was over spilling with various pots and jars of make-up and hair products. The room had that girl smell about it, he mused, as he pulled on his jeans, and found his top crumpled up at the foot of the bed.  She had a tall pine bookcase to one side of the bed, crammed full of books, and to the other side a little bedside table, with a blue lamp on it, an alarm clock, a coffee mug and wine glass.  He smiled at this.  He liked looking around at her flat, piecing back together the parts of her life he had missed out on.

            Like the bookcase, mostly full of teaching books and textbooks.  He still couldn’t really picture her as a teacher.  The thought made him want to giggle.  He imagined she was brilliant at it though, a natural.  He looked at her now, deep in sleep next to Kurt, who had managed to wriggle right under the duvet, with just his tail poking out.  Danny sighed deeply, and allowed himself to feel and embrace the hope that careered through him whenever he was with her.  It had always been that way, he thought.  Life was shit, he felt shit, but then he would find her, and it was like she made the sun come out again, made him feel lighter, not so held down or bound up.  He recalled many nights curled up with her, just like last night, not speaking, just breathing together, just holding on, and every breath he took with her was like being given permission to live.  He looked at her now and thought, I don’t deserve you.

            He went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on.  He intended on making her breakfast in bed.  He felt good, he realised.  Not so churned up, not so fearful.  He did not allow himself to think about yesterday, and the cemetery.  There would be a time later to dissect it with Michael, and he would tell Lucy when things had settled down.  He repeated the mantra he had sold to himself, over and over again in his mind, as he busied around the kitchen; one day at a time, one day at a time.

 

            Lucy set her laptop up for him after they had eaten breakfast.  She set it up on the kitchen table, while he washed up at the sink, and every time he looked at her she was smiling, half laughing, and he was the same.  “Like an old married couple,” he said eventually, wishing it were true. 

            “Look at this,” she said to him, drinking from the second cup of coffee he had made for her.  He dried his hands and came around to the table to see.  “This is my Friends Reunited account,” she said, pointing to the screen. Danny leaned closer. 

            “So people contact you through this?” he asked, and she nodded and ran her finger down a list of names, with accompanying photos on the left hand side.

            “Look, here’s Zoë.”

            “Zoë?” Danny exclaimed with a laugh.  He had not thought about her in years, but at one time she had been permanently joined to Michael’s side.  “Wow, Zoë. What’s she up to these days then?”

            “Look,” Lucy clicked on her photo and brought up her information for Danny to see.  “She’s got three kids and another one on the way,” she said and glanced up at him.  He shook his head, his hand going to his mouth in amazement.

            “Bloody hell, has she? Are any of them Michael’s?”

            It was a joke, but Lucy made a face at him. “I wouldn’t put it past him, would you?  But no, I don’t think so.  She got married really young, like twenty or something. I was chief bridesmaid, no less!”

            “Really?  Oh my God. Where does she live?”

            “Redchurch.  Same as Billy. Some people just stay where they started, don’t they?”

            Danny blew his breath out and shook his head again.  He for one could not ever imagine going back to Redchurch, not for any reason.  Belfield Park was grimy and grotty, nothing much had changed there, but it was the place they had ran to, it was the place they had at least been safe for a while.  “Do you see her much?” he asked Lucy, and she shrugged in reply.

            “Not really, not socially. I mean I see her at school, because some of her kids go there, but I’ve never taught any of them.  We chat on here a bit.  Stay in touch, you know?  You can set up an e-mail account on my computer if you like?”  She looked up at him enquiringly, and he pushed his hands into his pockets.

            “I don’t know.  No point really, eh?  I don’t know anyone anymore.”

            “Fair enough,” she said easily. “What time are you meant to meet your mum?”

            “Any time,” he replied. “I’ve got the address. It’s about half an hour away from Redchurch, Milford something? Down by the sea.”

            “She sold the Cedar View house immediately,” Lucy said then, looking back at the computer screen.  “Did she tell you?”

            “Yeah,” Danny nodded.  His mother had in fact been his most frequent visitor over the last eight years, though he did not feel comfortable telling Lucy this. 

            “She had to drop the price quite a bit to sell it.”

            “I know.” He turned away then, went back to the sink and picked up the tea towel to finish drying the breakfast things.  He had his back to Lucy, waited for her to say more, but she didn’t.  She had never forgiven his mother, like Michael. It was a hatred she seemed determined to hold onto.  He sighed to himself and thought I guess everyone needs someone to blame, and Lucy blames her.

            They were silent for a while.  Danny finished drying the dishes and tried to put them away, but he didn’t know where anything went, so Lucy ended up closing down the laptop and getting up to show him.  She seemed preoccupied, he thought, watching her move around the room.  “Listen,” he said finally, catching her by the shoulder and stopping her.  “Last night was amazing. Christ, how cheesy does that sound?” He laughed at himself and went on. “But I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, because you don’t, or like you have to tread on eggshells around me.  You know?”  She frowned at him slightly, but nodded. “You can say anything,” he told her.  “You can ask me anything.  I won’t mind.  Okay?”

            “Okay,” she smiled, and stepped forward, slipping her arms around his middle. “It’s okay. I’ll drive you to your mums.  I’ll wait outside though.”

            “You don’t fancy seeing her, do you?”

            “No.  Sorry.  Maybe one day, who knows?  But not today baby.”

            “I understand,” he said, and lifted her chin up so that he could look down into her face.  “And please, anything you are worried about, or want to talk about, we can yeah?”

            “I am single,” she blurted out suddenly, and then instantly covered her mouth with her hands.  He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes at him.  “I don’t know why I said that.”

            “I’m glad you did.”

            “What an idiot I am..what a retard!”

            “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I reckon you’ve had no end of fella’s following you about.  You didn’t have to wait for me or anything, you know that don’t you?”

            “Course, stupid.  Listen, we better go.  We’ll talk more later yeah?”  She fixed him with a mischievous grin, and pulled away to find her bag and keys.

 

            Outside the front door, Danny tucked Kurt under his arm and wished he had asked Michael for some cigarettes.  Lucy came out behind him, looking up and smiling as a young man came jogging along the pavement towards them.  “Hi Carl!” she called out breezily, and placed one hand on Dannys arm.  He looked at Carl, who slowed down and stopped in front of the building, hands on knees as he caught his breath.  He looked up at them both, and Danny half expected a hello, or a smile, or a question, but what he received instead was an extremely embarrassed expression, as the man pointed to the front door they had just pulled shut behind them. 

            “Um…” he said, grimacing and looking like he wanted the ground to open up and pull him in.  Danny and Lucy followed his pointing finger, and immediately they both gasped in dismay.  Someone had used black spray paint across Lucy’s red front door.  The word killer scrawled out in huge, drooping letters.   

           

            The word echoed in his head during the drive over to Milford-on-sea.  Lucy made small talk with him, and kept the radio down low.  She told him about her class at school, and the funny things the children said and did.  He could barely concentrate on a word she was saying.  He nodded and looked her way every now and again, but it was useless. Killer.  All over her fucking door.  He felt sick in his stomach, sick and heavy with guilt.  “Who would do that?” he asked eventually, his voice strangled.  She turned the radio down a bit more, looked at him briefly and shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

            “I don’t know.  I don’t think I want to know.”

            Danny thought of the old man then, the old man in the cemetery, but it did not bear thinking about, none of it did.  He could not bring himself to mention it to her.  Not yet.  This was all too much to deal with.  It was not fair on her, he thought.  Her fucking front door!  Who would do that?  Who would know?  Again, he saw the image of the old man’s burning eyes in his head, and he looked out of the window, biting his lip, feeling the strong urge to whack his own head against the window, just to get rid of the man’s face. 

            “People are idiots,” Lucy was saying, trying to calm him, he knew.  “It’s probably just kids, you know?  Stupid idiot kids.”

            “But who would know?  I mean, except for us lot.  It’s not like it’s all over the papers.”

            “Michael mentioned that reporter was at his door yesterday morning.”

            “Yes, but I didn’t speak to her.  I’ve never spoken to any of them.”

            “You need to put it out of your head,” Lucy said then, with a sigh. “I mean it.  I know that’s easier said than done, but you’ve got your mum and John to deal with now, and then meeting with Billy later.  It must all be so much, anyway.  Try not to think about it for now.”

            He looked her way.  “I’m really sorry Lucy.”

            “Don’t be stupid.  It’s just a door.  Carl said he would have a go at removing it while we’re gone.”

            “That was nice of him.”

            “Yeah.  So put it out of your head, for now.  Can you do that for me?”

            “I’ll have to,” he shrugged, knowing it would be impossible.  “Can’t do anything about it can I?”

            “Just kids,” Lucy said again, and he could hear in her voice that it had shocked and confused her.  Her eyes were darting around, concentrating more than she needed to on the driving, and she kept swallowing nervously.  “Just stupid kids. Word must have got out somehow.  I’ve told people.  I should have kept quiet, but you know, I’m not ashamed of you being here, and I’m not ashamed of why you were in prison.  I’ve never hid it from anyone.”  She smiled bravely at him.  “So it’s probably my fault,” she concluded. “I should have kept my big mouth shut.  Someone has told someone and so on, and some stupid idiots have had a laugh. Tried to wind you up.  We have to ignore it Dan.”  She looked his way again and nodded firmly.  He nodded back, agreeing with her.  What else could he do?

 

            His mother had been living in a third floor apartment with a glorious view of the sea, for most of the last eight years.  As Lucy had reminded him, she had put her Cedar View house on the market shortly after he was sent to prison for murdering her husband in the kitchen.  Seeing her was not going to be as difficult or as emotional as Lucy seemed to envision though.  He had seen her once a month without fail for his entire incarceration.  She had been his most consistently regular visitor.  They had, in his opinion, laid their demons to rest a long time ago.  They had peace, a mutual understanding and respect that he knew Lucy would probably never come to terms with, but that was fine. 

            As far as he knew, his mother still lived alone.  As far as he knew, she had not seen anyone romantically since her husband’s death. But he didn’t know for sure, and he imagined she would not jump at the chance of telling him if she was with anyone new.  Lucy remained in the car, dragging a dog-eared paperback out of the glove compartment and assuring him he could take as long as he needed.  She wished him luck before he set off with Kurt at his heels.  He looked up at the bright white building she inhabited, and then pulled his coat tighter around his body.  It was a cold day, for early September, and the wind whipping up from the beach made him shiver and quicken his step.  His mother buzzed him in, and he took the stairs rather than the lift, hopping up them two at a time, with Kurt now tucked back up under his arm.

            His mother met him on the landing, with the door to her flat held open.  She smiled an enormous, invigorating smile.  Such a smile he had not seen on her face in a long, long time.  During her visits to him inside, she had worn the same dark and pained expression, time and time again.  She had always been a slim woman, but the last eight years had seen her shrink to something close to skeletal.  She still wore her blonde hair long and wavy, and she still dressed well.  Today she was wearing slim fit blue jeans and a navy blue tunic with three quarter length sleeves.  He smiled back at her and thought that even in her late forties she was still very beautiful.  When he put his arms around her, he felt the fragility of her body and was afraid that he might break her.  She had no such qualms about him though, practically leaping at him and gripping his head with both hands, pulling his face down for a kiss.   Then she closed her eyes and buried her head in his chest, and they stood there like that, for what seemed like an age.  “My son,” she said, squeezing him tight.  “My son. You don’t know what this day means to me.  I so wish I could have come to meet you.” She looked up at him then, stepped back and viewed him with shining wet eyes. “But I understand why you wanted your friends,” she said, as an apology, and he sighed slightly and peered past her into the flat.  He wondered if there would ever come a day when she would not feel the need to turn everything into an apology.

            “Lucy brought me,” he told her. “She’s waiting outside.”

            “Oh.” Kay nodded, and then smiled politely, before gesturing him into the flat, which was warm and smelled of lavender.  He went in and dropped Kurt to the floor. His mother closed the door and helped take his coat.  “Of course,” she said, of Lucy. “I understand that.  That’s fine.  Would you like tea or coffee?  If you have time?”

            “Oh yeah, tea would be great. John’s not here yet?”

            She smiled a gracious smile and shook her head as she slipped past him into the kitchen. “No, not yet. He won’t want to speak to me, you understand.”  He followed her into the kitchen, which was square, with a huge window that looked out at the sea.  It was painted white, and had a small round table in the centre.  A wind chime made of shells hung from the great window.  There were fresh flowers in a blue and white striped jug on the table.  She got two mugs down from a cupboard and switched on the kettle.  “So tell me, how’s it been so far?” she glanced at him with a wide smile that touched her eyes.  “It must feel so strange! So unreal!”

            “Yeah,” he shrugged, thinking of the man in the cemetery and the graffiti on Lucy’s door. “You could say that.”

            “So good to see all your friends?  And Lucy!”

            “Oh yeah.  It’s great.  It’s been great. Weird, but great.” 

            “Look, go and sit in the lounge, it’s far more comfortable.  I know I haven’t got you for long, but we can have a quick cup of tea, and I have two presents for you.”

            Danny frowned at her.  “Presents?”

            “Yes!  Presents!  I’ll bring them through.  Go on now.”

            Danny did as she wanted and went back into the lounge, which sported sliding doors that led out onto a small balcony.  He could see a little bistro style table set out there, and one chair.  It certainly did not look like she entertained much company, he thought, looking around the lounge.  There were no signs, no men’s coats or shoes, or slippers lurking around anywhere.  He remembered a time when men had followed her, when every conversation with a strange man had evolved into flirting and proposals. Men had wanted her, he remembered, had wanted to own and possess her. He took a seat in an armchair next to the sliding doors and she reappeared with two wrapped presents, which she placed on his lap, before hurrying back into the kitchen for the tea.  Danny looked down at the gifts.  One was a square shaped box, and the other a flat package, possibly an envelope.  He bit his lip on the inside and wished that she hadn’t.  He blinked away a vivid memory that shot into his head, an image of him on his fourteenth birthday, sat on his bed opening the presents that she pushed upon him so excitedly.  A new Nirvana t-shirt, he recalled.  It had made him smile.  Then his mother had gasped at the bruises to his stomach when he tugged off the one he was wearing, to try it on.  Play fighting, he had told her.  She had believed him.  He looked at the gifts she presented him with now, and a spiteful part of him felt like knocking them to the floor and telling her not to bother. 

            She came back with the tea and a plate of biscuits and set them all down on a small table between them.  She took the other chair; almost disappearing into it, so small and bird-like she was these days.  She perched, and picked up her tea and held it delicately in her hands, grinning at the gifts he held.  “Go on,” she said. “We haven’t got long, have we?  We can’t leave Lucy out there on her own too long and John will be here soon.  Open them!”

            “You didn’t need to,” he told her uselessly.  “I don’t need anything.”

            “Oh don’t be silly. Open the big one first.”

            He opened it and held up the box.  It contained a brand new mobile phone.  He frowned a little and shrugged his shoulders.  “Thanks mum.”

            “You’ll need it!” she seemed to delight in telling him. “Everyone has them these days you know!  You can’t live without them.”

            I’ve managed the last eight years, he thought, but did not say.  He smiled and turned the box over in his hands.  “Thanks.  I won’t have a clue how to use it though.”

            “Oh Lucy will show you!” his mother laughed, waving a hand at him and setting her tea back down again. “Before you know it, you’ll be addicted to it like the rest of us!  Plus, I can get in contact with you.  I’ve put my number in there already for you.  They are great really, Danny. We’ll be able to stay in touch so much better with this.”

            “Okay,” he nodded, unconvinced. “Thanks again.”

            “Now the next one!” she urged, and actually pulled her knees up slightly, rocking back in the chair gleefully.  He wondered distantly if she was all right.  He pulled off the paper and found an envelope addressed to him.  He looked up at her and she nodded at him insistently.  “Open it love.  Open it.”

            He tugged it open and inside he found a bank statement, a chequebook and what seemed to be a debit card with a pin number.  He held them lightly in his hands, not understanding, but she nodded at him, smiling.  “All yours,” she informed him.

            “What?  What is it?”

            “Your bank account Danny. You remember I started them for you and John when you were little?”

            “Sort of, but…”

            “Well I’ve been looking after it for you, all this time.  I’ve been adding to it.  I’ve left you some money.  So you will be okay.  Look!”  She sat forward and thrust a finger energetically at the bank statement.  He trained his eyes in on it, ran them down the entries on the right hand side, and landed on the current balance figure at the bottom.  His eyes shot wide open.  Two hundred thousand pounds.  No way.  It couldn’t be real.  He looked at it again.

            “Holy shit mother.”

            “It’s all yours,” she said then, and shifted forward, even closer to him.  He felt her small hand drop onto his.  He looked from her grave expression, her haunted eyes, down onto the paper.  He shook his head at all of it.

            “No way.  It can’t be.  You can’t.”

            “I can and I have.  Don’t you worry, John is sorted out as well. He wouldn’t take as much.  Well it took me years to convince him to have any, but you know he has a little girl now?  That kind of changed his mind.  Things between us have thawed gradually, since then.” She kept her deep blue eyes on Danny’s.  He wanted to look away, but he was held there, and it was horrible, because he could see everything there in her eyes, the awful guilt, the useless regret, all of it, and he knew he could never take it away for her.  “But he’ll never forgive me of course,” she went on, her voice now tight and small.  “And rightly so.  But he has accepted my help finally.  He accepted it because it is all I can do to say sorry.  It is all I have left to try to make amends.  You need this money Danny.”  He looked down, shaking his head violently, and felt her hand tighten on top of his.  “Look at me,” she said.  “Look at me!” He lifted his eyes; found it torture to meet hers.  “Now,” she said to him. “You listen to me, because I have to say this to you, and then that will be it, because I don’t want to rake up the past, I want us all to move on.  I want us all to have decent normal lives.  But you need to take this money, son.  You have nothing at the moment, and we all know why.  You can take this money.  Start a business. Buy a house.  Whatever you want.  I only ask that whatever you do with it makes you happy, because you deserve to be happy Danny.  Do you understand?”  She was crying now.  Fat diamond shaped tears filled the corner of each eye, before toppling over to spill quickly down her thin cheeks.  She was holding his hand so tightly it was beginning to hurt.

            “Where did the money come from?” he heard himself ask her, his own voice a strangled croak.  She swallowed and lifted her other hand to wipe at her eyes.

            “It’s my money,” she said adamantly. “From the sale of the old house and the sale of the club.”

            Danny gritted his teeth.  He stared down at the cream coloured carpet beneath his feet.  “Then it’s his money.”

            “No,” Kay said quickly, sitting back, but keeping her hand over his.  “No it’s not Danny, it’s mine.  Because when he died everything that was his fell to me.  My house and my club.  My money.”

            “No,” Danny argued, his eyes burning into the carpet.  “His money.”

            “No!” she said, this time louder, angrier.  “Don’t you say that!  It fell to me.  What am I supposed to do with it?  I have everything I need, don’t you see?  I bought this flat, I own it completely.  I have a nice little car, and I have a nice little job as receptionist in a doctor’s surgery.  I don’t need any more.”

            “Mum” Danny spoke softly and lifted his eyes to meet hers again.  “I understand that.  But I don’t think I can take his money.”

            She stood up then.  She seemed furious.  She dropped her arms, slapping her hands against her thighs.  “Danny!” she cried in frustration.  “Stop saying that, stop saying it’s his money!  It’s mine!  You must take it!”

            “Doesn’t feel right,” he shook his head at her. 

            “Danny, for Gods Sake,” she turned on him then, hands going to her hips, head cocked slightly and shaking from side to side as she regarded him, sat stubbornly in the chair.  “Don’t you do this,” she warned him.  “Don’t you dare do this.”

            “What?  Do what?”

            “Play the martyr.  Play the victim.  You’ve done that long enough.”

            Danny could not believe what he was hearing.  “What?”

            “You know what I mean,” his mother seethed.  “The court case.  Your bloody guilty plea.  You could have got off.  You could have got manslaughter, or diminished responsibility, but no.  No.  You had to go against all the legal advice, and all our begging, and plead pre-meditated murder.” 

            Danny sucked in his breath and released it again slowly, and carefully.  He felt the urge to stand up, to square up to her, take her on, but he forced himself to remain seated, hoping that was one way to keep calm.  He let her words run through his mind for a moment.  He looked at her and saw her blue eyes darken with anger.  “That’s because it was the truth,” he told her slowly.  “It was pre-meditated murder.  I told the truth.”

            She rolled her eyes and gasped at him.  “You may say that,” she told him, nostrils flaring.  “But I don’t buy it.  I didn’t then, and I don’t now, and you have no idea how frustrating it was to see you put yourself through that, when you didn’t have to!”

            “Mum, I meant to kill him.  I planned to kill him.”

            “You were half crazy with fear, and anger, and drugs!” she shouted back at him, coming a step closer, with her hands till planted on her tiny hips.  “You didn’t know what you were doing Danny!  And if you still believe that, then you need to go back and look at it all again.  You really do.  You need to stop being so ridiculously hard on yourself.  You did it then, pleading murder when you didn’t have to, and you would have got far less than the ten years they sentenced you to, and now you’re doing it again.  Refusing this money,” she nodded at the paper in his hand.  “Exactly the same thing.  It’s like you are determined to keep suffering.”

            “No I am not!” Danny snarled at her.  He held onto the bank statement with one hand, and his other hand dug into the armrest.  He clung onto it, not wanting to let himself get to his feet.  “That’s bullshit, and you don’t know anything!”

            “Take the money then,” she challenged him.  “Take the money and build a good life for yourself.  You don’t think you deserve that?”

            “Not really, no!”  He almost laughed at her, dropping his head into his hand and balling the bank statement up into his fist.  He let it fall to the floor.  She scooped it up instantly and remained crouched down before him.  She placed her hands on his knees.

            “Why not?” she demanded, her tone angry, her eyes fierce.  “Why don’t you?  Why don’t you deserve it?”

            “Why do you think?” he shot back.  “I killed someone.  I took someone’s life.  I don’t really think I should be rewarded for that, do you?”

            Kay shook her head slowly, in utter amazement.  She licked her lips, and then sat back on her heels, keeping her hands on his knees.  “You just spent eight years in jail Danny,” she reminded him.  “Tell me, was that a reward?  What about prison?  Was it wonderful?  Was it?  Was it a happy, joyful place?  Was it great, was it?”

            Danny leant back in the chair, to move away from her.  “Course it wasn’t.”

            “So you were punished,” she told him.  “You punished yourself by making that plea.  You’ve served your sentence now son.  It’s over.  Why don’t you think you deserve the chance of a decent life?”

            Danny rubbed at his eyes with both his hands.  “I don’t know, I don’t know all right?  It just seems wrong to take his fucking money!”

            “And what about what he did to you?” she questioned, her tone softer now.  He kept his hands over his eyes.  He did not want to hear this.  He did not want any of those things to come out of her mouth.  He was starting to wish he had never come.  He wanted more than anything, to just get up and walk out.  “What about that?” she asked him, taking one of his hands and pulling it away from his face.  “Do you ever ask yourself that?  What about what he took from you?  Not just eight years in jail Danny, but three years of abuse and torture!  He took your childhood from you.  They should have been the happiest, most carefree years of your life, but instead they were nothing short of hell.”  Her voice broke on the last word, fresh tears spilled from her eyes, and she closed them tightly, unable to look at him any longer.  “You have to look at it that way,” she said quietly.  “I know you don’t want to think of the past, and neither do I, but you have to remember sometimes, you know, why you did what you did.  Why.”

            “I need to go,” Danny said then.  He blinked away tears.  He would not cry.  He tried to get up, but she held onto his hand, holding him back.

            “Please take the money.  I want you to take it and be happy.”

            “Mum, how can his money make me happy?  It will just make me sick.” He pushed past her and got to his feet, clicking his tongue for Kurt to follow him.  Kay scrambled to her feet, grabbing the bank statement and shoving it into the envelope with the rest of the things.  She snatched his hand and pushed it into it.

            “Take it with you,” she begged him.  “Please, just take it with you and talk to Lucy about it.  Talk to your friends.  That’s all I’ll ask Danny.”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Please, do it for me.  Do it to make me happy.  Do it to ease my guilt just a tiny bit.  Take it and talk it over with them.  They’ve been there with you all along.  They’ll know what to do.  And if you come back in a few days, and you’ve really thought about it, and you still don’t want it, I’ll accept that.”  She dropped her hand, leaving the envelope in his.  “I mean it,” she nodded, folding her arms across her middle.  “I’ll accept it and I’ll never mention it again, I promise.  But you do this one thing for me; you take it and talk it over with your friends. See what they think.  Will you do that for me?”

            Danny dropped his shoulders in defeat.  Nodded, and opened the door.  Pulling it back towards him, he found himself face to face with his older brother, and he felt like sinking to the floor.  It was too much.  He felt his knees wobble a little, and his head was swimming.  John regarded him with surprise, and then smiled warmly and broadly and stuck out his hand. “Not going already are you, little brother?” Danny shook his head.  He could not speak.  He looked back at John.  He saw a man, an adult, tall and heavy set, in good shape.  He looked fresh faced and healthy.  It flashed through his mind how little he knew about him. His eyes flicked momentarily to Kay, stood silently behind Danny.  “Mum,” he nodded at her, and then his jaw set tightly, and he looked back at Danny. “Shall I come in?  Or do you fancy a walk somewhere?”

           

            In the end they went for a walk.  Danny waved at Lucy in her car as they came out of the building and headed towards the beach.  He saw her wave back and then look back at her book.  They walked along side by side, both with their hands in their pockets, as the little dog skipped ahead across the sand before them.  “I’ve got something to give you,” John said eventually, and when Danny looked at him expectantly, he saw his older brother look immediately down at the sand, as if the burden of guilt lay heavily upon him also.

            “More gifts?” Danny mused with a small smile. “It’s not my birthday.”

            “Look I don’t know what to say to you Danny, and you know how I feel about mum, so I’ll be quick about this.  You know I’ve felt terrible, about….” John had stopped walking, and his mouth was small as he looked angrily around at the beach, and then the sky, seeming to find it harder and harder to look at his brother. Danny sighed and decided to make it easy for him.

            “John, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters now.  You had your own life to live, and I didn’t ask for your help.  We can’t change that now, so forget about it.  Please.”  He turned and started walking again.  John caught him up.

            “Okay,” he said. “All right.  But there had to be something I could do to help, or make it up to you somehow, well that’s how I felt when you went to prison anyway.  I wanted to do something but I didn’t know what to do.  I wanted to do one thing, to be a good brother, you know?”

            Danny had no idea what he was talking about.  He only knew that all of this was doing his head in.  He and John had never been close.  Never.  He had let go of any anger he had once held for John for leaving, but what was the use in pretending they were ever going to get on?  John seemed aggravated and uncomfortable walking beside him, and eventually he stopped again and pulled a letter out of his pocket, thrusting it almost impatiently at his younger brother. Danny frowned and took it from him. “What’s this?”

            “I found your dad, Danny.”

            “Eh?”

            “Your dad.  When you went to jail, I started looking.  I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do or not, if you’d even want to see him after all these years.  But I always felt guilty you know?  I had my dad, and you never had yours, not since you were nine anyway.  It wasn’t fair.” He pushed his hands back into his pockets and blew out his breath.  He nodded at the letter. “He lives in Southampton these days, not far from where we used to live before mum moved us here. He travelled around for years, had a pretty colourful life by all accounts, and then he went back there to try to find you. When he’d sorted himself out, you know?  He wanted to see you but we’d gone.”

            Danny stared at the letter in his hands.  He at once wanted to hurl it into the sea and run away from it, and hold it closely to his chest and never let it go.  He did not know what to say so he said nothing.  Just stared from the letter, to John, and back to the letter again.  “He’s been writing to you,” John said. “Over the years. Even before I found him and told him what had happened. He had all these letters for you. He’s got them.  If you want to see them? That’s his address in there for you, and his number.  What do you think?”

            “What do I think?” Danny asked, his voice catching in his throat as he looked up at his brother.  “I think my head is fucked John, that’s what I think.”

            “I know.  I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to give it to you in person, that’s all.  To explain.  And see how you are.”

            “I’m fine.”

            “I know.  I know you are.  I’m proud of you, you know.”

            Suddenly, out of nowhere, John’s arms were around him, and Danny felt himself stiffen in surprise.  His brother had always been bigger built than him, taking after his own father, Kay’s first love.  He felt like a giant now, enveloping him in his broad arms, pulling him into his thick chest.  Just as quickly, John released him and wiped what might have been a tear from the corner of one eye.  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to mess with your head, but it took me a few years to trace him see. I didn’t know whether to tell you when you were inside, or not.  I just wanted to find him for you.  It was about the only thing I could give you back.”

            “Unbelievable,” Danny said to him and forced a smile.  He tucked the letter into his jeans pocket and patted his brother on the arm woodenly.  “Thank you.”

            “You mean it?  You’re okay with it, I mean?”

            “I’ll deal with it when I’m ready,” Danny nodded. “But thanks, and I mean that.  It was a kind thing you did.”

            “About the only good thing I’ve done, for you.” John was staring down at his feet.  Danny thought wistfully of Lucy sitting in her car, and his friends, and the pub and warmth. 

            “You were a good brother John,” he said then and he was not really sure if he meant it or not.  “Before you left, I mean.  You tried really hard.  I do remember that.  Mum put on you a lot, and I was a little shit.  I haven’t forgotten all that.  I never blamed you for leaving, you know.”

            “Well I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, that makes you a finer man than I will ever be,” said John, releasing a sigh and relaxing his shoulders as if Danny’s words had eased his troubled mind just a little.  Danny grimaced as they turned back towards the road, and he thought about his eight years in prison, and all that had gone before.

            “I don’t think that’s true,” he said.

 

            Outside, his mothers building he climbed into the car beside Lucy and shuddered.  She looked at him in concern and reached out to stroke Kurt.  “Okay?”

            “I need a drink,” he told her.

            “Okay,” she said, turning the key in the ignition.  “We can do that.  Let’s go.”

6

Lucy

 

                        She had been up ridiculously early, getting things ready.  First herself; a bubble bath, hair wash and full leg wax, followed by hair straightening and an hour agonising over what to wear.  She had finally decided on dark bootleg jeans and a slim fit v-neck t-shirt under a long black cardigan.  She wore her hair down, applied minimal make-up; just enough to make her feel fresh faced and then set about sorting the flat.  She ran the vacuum through every room, cleared the sink of washing up, and scooped up the piles of discarded clothes from the bedroom floor.  The whole time she carried a vibration of nerves with her that threatened to put her right off the roast dinner she had planned.  Of course her mother had texted twice already; put the oven on now love and your dad wants to know do you need him to bring some of his potatoes?

            Lucy found herself, pottering rather pointlessly around the kitchen, once the chicken was in the oven, and the vegetables had all been peeled.  She smoothed down her hair, tried not to nibble her nails, and tugged at her lower lip instead.  Yesterday, she reflected, had been so very strange, so very dreamlike.  All of it, from awaking in the morning, to driving out there, to finally sliding her arms around him, all of it had felt so surreal, so odd.  She almost did not believe that he would show up today.  She almost could not believe in him as real.  She was reminded, and smiled ruefully at an old familiar feeling, of her breath being knocked out of her every time she thought of him.  Don’t think too much, she kept berating herself.  Think too much, and it will all get too hard, too complicated.  Take each day at a time.  Her mother had advised this approach, and it was a sensible one, but it was hard not to think ahead, and it was almost impossible not to look back.  She turned suddenly, grabbing a bottle of white wine she had on the side and twisting open the metal lid.  She poured herself a large glass, replaced the cap and leant back on the cupboard again, glass in hand.

            She had so many questions for him.  Yesterday had not seemed like the right time.  She had found herself settling back into watchful silence, finding the sensation of just breathing the same air as him again, quite enough to deal with.  She had not needed much alcohol in the pub to find herself totally intoxicated by it all.  Just sitting back and watching the three of them back together, listening to them, noting their movements and their expressions, had taken up all of her energy.  She had immediately picked up on two things; Michael’s endless anger, and Anthony’s burden of worry, which seemed to create a cocoon of tension around the two brothers.  It saddened her to see the way Michael’s life had panned out, but she had never felt comfortable enough to bring it up with him.  And Anthony, well she remembered a time when he had been this carefree older boy, exuding macho confidence.  Someone they had all been in awe of, all looked up to.  Michael had emulated him wherever possible, she remembered.  Danny had found the protective older brother he had never had in John.  But now, she looked at Anthony and saw a man older than his years, his eyes restless with anxiety.

            It will all be okay now though, she told herself and nodded.  She drank some wine and closed her eyes briefly, wondering if they would be early or late, how the rest of their day had gone yesterday, how Danny had felt getting Kurt back, how it had felt for him this morning, waking up in the real world.  So many questions.  Plus, somehow, she had to make it clear to Danny that he would be staying the night with her.  He had enjoyed some time with Michael, she thought, now it was her turn.

 

            The knock on the door startled her and she jerked her glass, slopping wine all down her top.  “Shit!” she cursed, snatching a tea towel from the side and dabbing at it as she rushed towards the door, her heart in her mouth.  When she pulled open the door, she saw Michael slouching, grinning and breathing fast, and her eyes tracked to Danny, and she watched him pull an unconvincing smile across his face, while his own chest rose and fell dramatically and his eyes looked too wide.  Something was up. 

            “Smells good in here,” Michael kissed her on the cheek and bundled past her.  There was a potentially awkward moment when Danny leaned in to kiss her, and she thought he was going for her cheek as Michael had done, but in fact he was aiming for her lips, and she sort of turned her head at the wrong moment.

            “Hi Lucy,” he said softly, and she let him past her, carrying Kurt.

            “Everything okay?”

            “Yep,” he shrugged, and she knew that he was lying.  Never mind, she thought, it can wait, now is not the time anyway.  If she knew her parents at all she knew that they would be bang on time, if not early.  She only had moments to settle Danny and Michael in before they arrived, and she felt the first flush of irritation at herself for planning such a thing. 

            “Make yourselves at home,” she told them both.  “I’ve got to check the chicken.  Do you want something to drink?”

            “Got any beer?” Michael asked.  She gave him a look.  “What?  I can have one if I’m driving.”

            “A cup of tea would be fine,” Danny told her, and she nodded.  She showed him into the kitchen, and crouched down to check the oven, as he stood in the middle of the room, still holding onto the dog. She smiled to herself and wondered if he had put the dog down at all since being reunited with him. 

            “Lovely place, Lucy,” he said to her, looking around the kitchen.  “I really like it.”  Lucy flicked the switch on the kettle, took a beer out of the fridge and pushed it into Michael’s waiting hands, and as he turned to wander into the lounge with it, she took Danny by the hand.  He smiled down into her eyes and she wondered what he was thinking.

            “I want you to stay the night,” she whispered to him, and he looked surprised, but closed his mouth and just nodded.

 

            Her parent’s arrival was another strange moment, Lucy considered later.  They knocked on the door at the same time as Anthony, who came up behind them looking both harassed and embarrassed, though she had no idea why he had reason to feel either.  He nodded politely at her parents, and she tried to remember if they had crossed paths before.  The trial, it came to her then.  They had met during the trial.  Her father in particular had insisted on accompanying her every time she went to sit in the public gallery. You are too young to go through something like this on your own, he had told her.  Anthony pushed an expensive bottle of red wine into her hands and kissed her gently on the cheek in the hallway.  Then he squeezed past and went to join Michael and Danny, while Lucy took her parents coats. 

            “Everything okay?” her mum mouthed to her almost instantly and Lucy gave her a look, as if to say, why wouldn’t it be?  She looked at her dad and saw he was wearing his usual expression of faint concern, but trying hard not to let it show.  He was dressed casually in blue jeans and v-neck sweater, while her mum had opted for a knee length wrap dress in dark brown. 

            “Come on,” Lucy told them, dragging them both by the hand. “Let’s get the awkward bit over with.  He’s in here.”

            Lucy led them into the kitchen, where Danny stood drinking a cup of tea, with Kurt asleep in his arms.  His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, and he put down his cup and stuck his hand out automatically.  “Keith, Deborah,” he said to them both and Lucy saw that his hand was shaking.  She could have kissed her dad for what he did next though.  He took Danny’s outstretched hand, and then pulled him in for a real hug, patting his back strongly with his other hand.

            “Good to see you, young man,” he said into his shoulder.  “Good to see you.”

            Danny was speechless, just dazed.  Lucy felt the tears, always so close, pestering her eyes and blinked them back quickly, as her mum slipped in between her dad, and wrapped her arms tightly around Danny.

            “Danny,” she said, and that was all, and when she pulled back smiling, she wiped at her eyes and then rolled them at Lucy.  “I knew I would cry!” she said with a small laugh.  “Oh dear, I knew I would.”

            “How are you both?” Danny straightened up and asked them; still holding onto Kurt, even though Lucy knew he must have been getting heavy by now. 

           

            Lucy felt a little like a willing outsider for the duration of the meal she put on.  She didn’t know quite what to say to anyone, about anything, so having the dinner to prepare and serve, playing the hostess, gave her a great excuse to flit from person to person, all the time keeping her eyes on Danny.  The meal went well, with only a few awkward silences, which Michael jumped in and saved every time, with some well-timed dig at either himself or his brother.  He played the rogue and the clown to perfection, she thought wonderingly, watching him.  Joked at his own failures, poked fun at his own lowly position in the world, while Anthony viewed him with increasing frustration, and Danny just seemed overwhelmed and unsure what to say. 

            Her parents left shortly after dinner, and again, she was thankful to them for this.  They were from another world, she mused, watching her dad pump hands awkwardly with Michael.  She could see the worry, permanently etched on her father’s face, while her mother seemed full of emotion, and was wiping at her eyes again as they left.  She pulled Lucy into a tight embrace in the hallway.  “Thank you for a lovely dinner darling,” she told her.  “Will you call me tomorrow?”

            “Course I will mum.  Dad.  Thanks for coming.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say thank you for being nice to him, but she didn’t.  What did that even mean?  She smiled tightly at them as they left her flat, and she wondered what they really felt about dining with a murderer.  . 

            Lucy joined the rest of them in the lounge.  Michael was fiddling with his phone.  Anthony was leaning back with one knee crossed over the other, but his face looked anything but relaxed.  Danny smiled at her from the sofa, and patted the space next to him.  “We’ll wash up for you, won’t we lads?” he said.  Lucy settled down next to him and reached across to stroke Kurt.

            “Oh mum’s taken care of it all,” she replied.  “You know what she’s like.  Have you heard from your mum yet Danny?  Has she been in touch?”

            It was one of the many questions she had deliberately avoided during the dinner.  It had been exhausting, she thought now, avoiding subjects, while trying not to let conversation peter off.  Inviting Michael and Anthony had definitely been a wise move.  She saw him look up from his phone now, waiting for Danny to reply.

            “I’ve arranged to go to her place tomorrow,” he told them all.  “She gave me the address last time I saw her.  And John will be there too.” He nodded and raised his eyebrows at their sombre expressions. “Coming down from Leeds, he is. Be a bit weird.”

            “Do you want me to take you?” Michael asked.

            “Oh I can,” Lucy spoke up quickly.  “It’s not a problem.”  Michael nodded in understanding and she smiled at him gratefully. 

            “Just texting Billy-boy,” Michael said then, looking back down at the phone in his hands.  “He wants to meet up.  What shall I suggest?”

            “Anything,” Danny shrugged in reply.

            “Pub it is then,” said Michael, tapping in the reply.  “Tomorrow evening suit you?”

            “I have no immediate plans,” Danny said with a grin.  He slipped his arm casually around Lucy, and she sucked in her breath, so surprised by the sudden warmth of it.  For a moment she felt stiff and scared, but then she let herself relax back into him, nestling easily into his side.  His arm draped her shoulder, his hand coming down to rest on top of her forearm. 

            “Right then,” Anthony announced suddenly, getting to his feet. “I think we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality enough Lucy darling.  We better be going.” He raised his eyebrows at his brother expectantly, and Michael frowned up at him.  Lucy saw a look pass between them, and Anthony even jerked his head ever so slightly in her and Danny’s direction, and finally Michael got it and jumped to his feet.

            “Oh yeah,” he said, “that’s right.  You got to get back to the wife and kids, and I got to get back to my shitty flat.  Do you want me to take Kurt back Dan?”

            “No, it’s fine,” Danny said.  “He can stay, if that’s all right with Lucy.”

            “Course it is,” Lucy ran her hand smoothly down the little dogs back. “We’re old friends, aren’t we buddy?”

            “Okay, well,” Michael seemed hesitant for a moment, and lingered in the doorway, as Anthony grabbed their coats from the hallway and passed his to him. He seemed to be trying to make eye contact with Danny. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he said.  “You’ll be all right and everything?”

            “Course I will,” Danny nodded back at him, and Lucy watching, had that feeling again, that something was up, and that they were both keeping it from her. 

 

            When they had finally gone, she sighed and turned to Danny. “I know you two are not telling me something,” she told him and watched his eyes widen in guilt. “But that’s fine.  As long as everything is okay?” he nodded slightly, reluctantly, his eyes searching her face, as if trying to decide what or how to tell her.  She decided she did not need to know right now and leaned slowly towards him.  Her hand came up to his face, cupping his chin and cheek, and she moved forward, kissed him long and deep and hard, before any more words could be wasted.  When she pulled back, his eyes opened again slowly and he opened his mouth to speak.  She stopped him with a finger to his lips.  “No words,” she told him, “no words, no thoughts, let’s just do this.  I seem to recall we were starting to get pretty good at this, before you went away?”

            His mouth dropped open again, he shook his head slightly, and she got up, taking his hand and pulling him with her. “Lucy…” he started to say, as she led him through to the bedroom. 

            “Shh,” she told him again.  “I said don’t talk, don’t think, just let me…”

 

            Afterwards, they slept for a while.  It was the dog, whining and scraping at the bedroom door that lifted Lucy from sleep.  She sat up blinking, glanced at Danny, who was lying on his side, facing away from her.  She got up quickly, darted across the floor and let the dog in.  He immediately scampered up to the bed, hopped up and curled into a little ball next to Danny.  Lucy chuckled softly at the sight of them.  It warmed her heart to see them like that, back together again.  She had bought the dog for Danny as a late sixteenth birthday present; when he was living in the Belfield Park bed sit with Anthony and Michael.  He had been struggling, she remembered, sleeping badly, looking over his shoulder the whole time, his nerves shot to bits.  The dog had helped calm him down, and gave him a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to go on. 

            She shivered and slid back under the duvet behind him.  She found herself biting down on her lips again, at the sight of his bare back.  Scars, she thought to herself, her eyes running along the haphazard array of white slashes and small circular marks that peppered his skin.  She resisted the urge to reach out and touch them.  She wondered if they were all from the past, or if any had happened while he was in prison.  Her lips trembled then, her eyes moistened and she moved in behind him, slipping her arms around him and pulling him back into her, wrapping her body around his and holding him tight.  She turned her face away, so that the wetness from her eyes would not wake him up.

5

Danny

 

            Danny awoke groggily the next morning, to the sound of Michael tripping over something in his bedroom and swearing loudly.  He struggled into a sitting position on the sofa; pulling the blanket Michael had given him right up to his chin.  The flat was freezing.  It was so cold it felt like the windows had all been left open overnight.  It reminded him grimly of the bed-sit he had shared with Michael and Anthony for a year, just down the road.  Just like this place, it had had huge old sash windows that let all the air in.  Hell in the winter. 

            “Who the hell is at my door at this time in the morning?” Michael was muttering darkly as he emerged from his bedroom, dressed in a t-shirt and boxer shorts, with his hair sticking up all over.  He shook his head at Danny, shivered violently and headed for the front door.  Danny watched in amusement.  He hadn’t heard the buzzer go, but guessed that was what had woken Michael up.  He yawned widely, and wondered if Michael had a hangover at all.  He had certainly put away the drinks yesterday.  He watched him press the buzzer next to the door.  “Yeah?  Who is it?”

            Danny could hear another voice, but it was too muffled to distinguish what they were saying.  He lowered his feet to the floor and started to shiver hopelessly, as he looked around for his jumper and coat.  His head felt okay, he thought, not too bad, but then he had sobered up before bed, unlike Michael, who had just kept going.  He had slept well too, he realised then with surprise, fishing his hooded jumper up from the floor and tugging it down over his head.  No weird dreams for a change.

            “I don’t think so love!” he heard Michael saying loudly.  “Go on off you go!  You’re not in luck today.”

            “Who is it?” Danny hissed, getting up and stepping into the hallway.  It was long and narrowed, the pale blue wallpaper peeling off in places, dotted with mould in others.  Michael had a bin liner filled with dirty washing next to the front door, and the floor was littered with empty beer bottles and bits of rubbish.  It made Danny’s heart sink a little, looking at it.  He had not expected his friend to still be living like this.  He had pictured him like Anthony, with a wife or a girlfriend and somewhere  nice to live.  The way it should be.  Looking around this place was slightly depressing, he thought.  It was like Michael had not moved on, not one bit.  He had moved from the bed-sit, but taken all the old shit with him.

            “Some reporter bitch,” Michael grinned at him, letting go of the buzzer so that she didn’t hear him.  He was leaning against the wall, one arm slung around his middle, one foot bent back to rest on the wall.  His shoulder shook with soft laughter.  “I know her, don’t worry.  She used to come round all the time.”

            Danny was confused.  “What do you mean, reporter? Why?”

            “Because of you, idiot.  You were in all the papers for ages, remember?”

            “Oh.  So why’s she here now?”

            “She wants to talk to you.  I said you weren’t here.”

            Danny took a step backwards and folded his arms.  “Good.  Get rid of her.”

            Michael pressed the buzzer and leaned towards it.  “You still there love?  I told you, he’s not here.  Try somewhere else.  His mums’ maybe?”

            “Could I just come up and leave my card with you?” came the sickly sweet reply through the intercom.  Michael snorted.

            “Stick it under the door.”

            “Okay, okay.  Just tell him I want to give him the chance to tell his story that’s all, okay?  No one has ever heard his side.”

            “Maybe he wants a private life?” asked Michael, with a roll of his eyes. “You ever thought of that?”

            “Well he can tell me that, if you pass on my message.”

            “Still trying to get that big story, eh?” Michael taunted her.  “Get into the nationals? Aren’t there any other scandals you can sniff out these days?”

            “It’s not about stories or scandals Michael,” the voice said tersely.  “It’s about giving people the chance to tell their side, so that people know the truth.  Otherwise people make their own minds up, don’t they?  Daniel Bryans might embrace the chance to get his story told, for all you know.  Good day.”  There was a click, and she was gone.  Michael turned to smile at Danny who was shaking his head in bemusement.

            “Mr. Popular already eh?”

            “A reporter?” Danny said again.  “I don’t get it.”

            “You heard what she said.  She covered it at the time.  She spoke to all of us.  Caroline Haskell her name is.  She is hot by the way.”

            “What did she say at the time?” Danny asked, eyes narrowed, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer to his own question.  Michael came back up the hall and went into the kitchen where he flicked the kettle on.

            “I thought you kept all the papers?” he asked.

            “I did.  I never looked at the reporter’s names though.  That was her?”

            “Most of it, yeah.  She was okay, back then.  Bit bigheaded and bossy, but I suppose they have to be.  Tea?”

            “Yeah, thanks.  You think she’ll come back?”

            “Yep.  You can count on it.  Don’t worry I’ll get rid of her for you if you don’t want to talk to her.”

            Danny nodded gratefully.  He felt twitchy and nervous all of a sudden, and the thought of leaving the flat made his stomach turn over.  “I just didn’t expect that sort of thing,” he shrugged at Michael.  “I didn’t think people would still care.”

            “It will die down again,” Michael smiled at him encouragingly.  “People will get bored again, you’ll see.  How you feeling this morning?  You sleep all right?”

            “Not bad at all,” Danny nodded, recalling his dream free night.  “Had Kurt with me all night, keeping me warm. And I was feeling okay, until that,” he jerked his head towards the front door.  “Now I feel a bit freaked out, for some reason.  Like everyone’s going to be staring at me or something.”

            “They won’t.  Chill out.  We’ll head over to Lucy’s soon, yeah?  She’ll sort you out, I know she will.”

            Danny smiled and nodded.  If there was anything that would help him get through a day, it was thinking of her.  Had always worked in the past, he thought, recalling his blackest moments, before prison, and during.  He would think of Lucy, of her goodness and her calmness, all of which he would absorb whenever he was near her.  He remembered the times when they were kids, lying side by side up in his room, or pressed against each other down at the beach.  Not talking.  Just being together, because nothing needed to be said.  They knew it all without saying it.  Would it still be like that now, he wondered?  Would there be any awkwardness, any doubts, when they were finally left alone together?  How would she feel looking into his eyes, knowing what he had done? How would she really feel about kissing a killer?

            Michael made them tea and toast, then went to get dressed. “You’ve not got work or anything?” Danny enquired, while his friend was in his bedroom.

            “No,” was the amused reply.  “I’m sort of between jobs at the moment.”

            Danny laughed.  “Bit like me!”

            “Oh yeah!”

            Michael came out of his room dressed in jeans that were stained and tattered around the knees.  He zipped up the front of a dark green hooded top and pulled his coat on.  Danny grinned at him.  As scruffy as ever, he thought, but I bet the girls still swarm around him like flies.  He had grown into his dark looks, Danny thought.  His eyes were chocolate brown, at once mischievous and menacing.  He recalled the first few times he had set eyes on him, when he, Billy and Jake had tried to intimidate him by riding their bikes in circles around his house.  He had been the new boy, he remembered, watching from the window, angry and scared.  Danny had known right away who their ringleader was.  The dark boy with the scowling eyes.

            “Head over to Lucy’s shall we?” he asked now.  Danny nodded.

            “Is her flat along Barrack road?”

            “Yep.”

            “Past the cemetery or before it?”

            Michael had been checking his pockets for keys and cigarettes.  Now he stopped and narrowed his eyes at Danny.  “After.  Why?”

            Danny looked down at Kurt, who was at his feet, eyes staring up, tail wagging slowly.  He had something he needed to do and he was pretty confident Michael was the only one who would understand.  “Need to check,” he said quietly, and true enough, Michael pressed his lips together and gave him one silent nod.

 

            They left the flat, got into Michael’s car with Kurt, and drove off.  Barrack road was one long, straight road that connected Redchurch, where they had all once lived, to Belfield Park.  They smoked as they drove, and said very little.  The cemetery was to the left, just past the first of two roundabouts.  Michael turned left, followed the narrow lane that led down to the gates, and parked the car in the small gravelled car park. 

            “Stay there,” Danny said to Kurt, and got out.  Michael finished his smoke, stamped on the butt and slid his hands into the pockets of his coat.  He looked around as they trudged through the black iron gates, which were wide open.

            “I know where it is,” he told Danny, his voice just above a whisper.  Danny just nodded.  He felt a cold chill and buttoned his coat up to his chin.  The ground under their feet was wet and boggy.  Their trainers squelched and sucked through the muddy grass, as Danny followed Michael through the rows of headstones.  Michael kept looking around, checking over his shoulder, his dark eyes hooded by a frown.

            Finally Michael stopped walking, dropped his shoulders and pointed.  Danny stopped beside him.  Right before them was a plain black headstone.  Danny looked it up and down, read the inscriptions, checking it all, the dates, and the year.  He blew his breath out slowly, and then looked at Michael.  “Just a niggling feeling,” he explained to him, even though he knew he did not need to.  “You know.  Just needed to make sure.”

            “Don’t blame you,” shrugged Michael.  “I’ve been here a few times myself over the years.”

            “Yeah?  Why?”

            “Same as you.  To make sure.  Maybe to laugh a bit.  To gloat.” He stuck his tongue halfway between his teeth and raised his eyebrows at Danny.  “Bastard got what he deserved,” he reminded him, and Danny nodded in agreement. That much was true, he thought.

            “You know what I said to him, that day?”

            “Die you motherfucker?”

            “I said I’d piss on his grave.”

            Michael laughed out loud and gestured to the plot.  “Fucking do it!” he sniggered.  “If you made a promise mate!”

            Danny looked around quickly, and then looked back at Michael.  He saw the light dancing in his friend’s eyes, the daring, and the old challenge.  He snorted, remembering the pranks and the tricks they had played, first on Frank Bradley, and then on this bastard.  Frank Bradley had caved in quickly enough, Danny recalled.  But there had been nothing they could do to get rid of Lee Howard.  Lee Howard, he thought now, staring back down at the plot,  there you fucking are. 

            Michael nudged him with his elbow.  “Do it,” he hissed.  “I will too.  Think of everything he ever did to you.  You said you’d piss on his grave, you should fucking well do it!”  Danny looked from him, back to the plot.  It was not scruffy or overgrown with weeds like some of the others, yet there were no flowers or plants either.  It looked like someone had maintained it, yet not wanted to draw attention to it.  “Think of Freeman,” Michael said then, his voice a whisper, his eyes burning with hate.  Danny swallowed, and felt a shudder of revulsion wring through him.  It was enough to convince him, and before he knew what he was doing, he had unzipped his flies.  Michael hooted with approval and did the same.  They grinned guiltily at each other as two dark yellow sprays of urine pattered down onto the grave.  Michael was stifling giggles, and Danny felt suddenly like a naughty child again.  He remembered the time they had put laxatives into Howard’s beer, how scary, how intoxicating the fear had been.

            “Oh shit,” Michael said suddenly, zipping himself back up.  He was staring urgently over Danny’s shoulder.  “Someone’s coming!”

            Danny did himself up, felt Michael pulling at his elbow, and turned to look.  There was an old man, tall, but slightly stooped and wearing a neat grey overcoat and a navy blue flat cap.  He was striding towards them.  His eyes were wide, his mouth was sneering in disgust.  Danny stared at him.  He thought he saw something.  Something about the way the man moved, the way he commanded the space he strode through, as if he was not afraid of anything in this world and had no reason to be.  He felt Michael dragging him by his elbow. “Let’s fucking go!” he was hissing into his ear.  Danny stumbled, saw the old man gathering pace, and let Michael haul him away from the urine-splashed headstone.

            He looked back at the man, as they hurried down through the rows of graves, back towards the gate.  The man had a walking stick, and as he quickened his pace, Danny saw him raise it and shake it at them.  “That’s my son!” he roared suddenly, when he had reached the plot.  He stood, his feet planted in the puddles of urine, his face twisted with disgust and rage, stick waving in the air.

            “Shit,” Michael said again, and started running, dragging Danny with him.  Danny stared back over his shoulder one last time before they hurled themselves through the gates and towards the car.  He saw the old mans eyes, and they were burning daggers into his own.  He lowered the stick and remained at the grave, and pointed one finger out towards Danny.

            “You!” he bellowed out, and the sound of it took Danny’s breath away, and he heard a million other things in his mind then, as he ran for the car, stumbled, landed on one knee, scraping it against the gravel; you, you little shit stain, you little bag of piss, you little fuck up, little man, little man, little man… He felt horrible panic overwhelming him, as he pulled himself up and jumped into the car behind Michael.  Michael slammed the door behind him, got into the drivers seat, stuck the key in the ignition and shoved the car into first gear.  He skidded out of the car park, sending sprays of gravel flying up behind them. 

            “Shit, shit,” he was saying over and over again.  Danny sat in the passenger seat.  He could still hear that voice, pounding through his ears; I’m gonna’ get you in line if it’s the last thing I do…are you gonna’ be a good boy now you little shit stain? He shook his head, kept hearing it, pressed his hands against his ears and stared in horror at the road before them.  Michael drove like a maniac, screeching out onto the main road and promptly getting beeped at by another car.

            “Are you all right?” he was shouting at Danny.  “Who the fuck was that?  Was that his fucking dad?  Danny?”

            “You heard him!” Danny yelled back, dropping his hands from his ears.  He stared at Michael in horror.  “What the hell have we done?  He’ll call the cops!”

            “Relax, relax,” Michael held up a hand and took some deep breaths. “Shit.  Shit!”  He slammed one hand onto the steering wheel. Danny tried to get control of himself.  He dragged Kurt onto his lap from the back seat and wrapped his arms around him.

            “We shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured, shaking his head, his eyes fixated on the rear view mirror.  “That was bad. We shouldn’t have done that!  What if he calls the cops, or comes after us?”

Michael drove further down Barrack road, signalled right and pulled in around the back of Lucy’s flat, parking the car and leaving his hands on the steering wheel.  “It’s okay,” he told Danny, although Danny could tell he was just saying this, just trying to calm them both down.  “There’s no proof, okay?  If he goes to the cops, we just deny it.  No one else was there.  No one.  So it’s okay, yeah?” he looked at Danny and caught his eye.  “Yeah?”

            Danny did not look, or feel convinced.  He merely felt a landslide of terrors hitting him, one after the other, and he could not speak.  That voice ripped through him, and he pressed his hands to his ears again, trying to block it out.  He felt Michael touch his arm.  “Mate?  Danny?”

            He looked at him, breathing fast.  “We pissed on his son’s grave.  That was Howard’s dad.”

            Michael nodded, looked away briefly, and then looked back at Danny, his eyes fierce. “Fuck it,” he told him.  “Forget about it.”

            “Forget about it?”

            “Danny he deserved it, he deserved it! Fuck it, I say!”

            Danny shook his head, found the handle and opened the car door.  He got out, holding onto Kurt, and slammed the door.  Michael got out the other side, holding his arms out to each side.  “It’s okay!” he told him.  “Forget about it!”

            “Mike, I just got out of prison yesterday…”

            “So what?  You weren’t there, you weren’t near the grave.  He won’t tell the cops anyway, I can guarantee it.”  Michael spat on the floor, looked back at Danny across the roof of the car and smiled a little.  “Haven’t felt the adrenaline pump like that for a while!” he joked.  Danny rolled his eyes, and started towards the road.  Michael locked the car and chased after him.  “You should have done a shit on it too,” he told him.  Danny looked up and down the street, a familiar feeling of checking over his shoulder falling over him.

            “This is fucked up,” he sighed.  “We shouldn’t have done that.”

            Michael was staring back at him with amused eyes.  “You worry too much,” he shrugged.  “I say the twisted bastard deserved it, and fuck his old man anyway. He created a monster, so don’t feel sorry for him, the fuckbag.  Come on.  This way.  Lucy will be waiting.”  And that was it.  Danny watched Michael shrug it off and saunter down the pavement and up three stone steps to a bright red door.  He tapped on it and stared back at Danny blankly.  

4

Michael

 

            If he had been sober Michael might have felt ashamed as he let Danny into his flat, but as he was drunk, he felt reckless and excitable, and kicked the door open, spreading his arms wide and declaring; “home sweet home!” as they bundled into the darkness.  They were quickly greeted by the soft pattering of feet, and a wagging tail as a little Jack Russell came swaggering out from Michael’s bedroom to the left.  Danny immediately crouched down and held out his hand.

            “Oh hey mate, do you remember me?”

            “Course he does,” Michael insisted, as he staggered and fumbled along the wall for the light switch.  “Damn,” he said, remembering that the hall light had blown.  He made it to the tiny kitchen, which was at the end of the long hallway and hit the light in there.  Danny was smiling in wonder at the little dog, eventually picking him up, and wandering slowly down the hall, eyeing the place with a slightly distasteful grin.  Michael shrugged at the state of the kitchen, at the overflowing bin, filthy floor and tower of dirty crockery next to the sink.  “I’m not exactly house proud!” he shrugged at Danny.  “Don’t blame me, blame my parents.  You remember the state of our house?  Fucking disgrace, wasn’t it?”

            “It was slightly treacherous at times,” Danny replied, looking back at the little dog.  “Oh mate, oh Kurt, man did I miss you!  Do you think he remembers me Mike?  What do you think?”

            “Well put it this way mate, he’s normally a grumpy little bugger and won’t get off his arse for me half the time, so yeah, I’d say he remembers you!”

            Michael grabbed a four pack of beers from the fridge and led the way into the lounge.  It was large, spread across the front of the flat with a full view of the high street down below.  He turned on the light, sat down on the only sofa, which was dark brown and sagging in the middle, and put the beers down on the coffee table.  Danny dropped his bag to the floor and joined him on the sofa, with the dog on his lap.  He wrapped his arms around him and the little dog lapped slowly and gently at his nose.

            “This my bed?” he asked, pulling away from the wet tongue.

            “Yep, afraid so pal.  I’ve only got one bedroom, and I think me and you are too big to be sharing a bed again don’t you?”

            Danny laughed.  “You always used to steal all the covers.”

            “You always used to fidget and jerk around in your sleep!” Michael passed him a beer and opened his own.  He leant back into the sofa, running one hand back through his hair.  “I’ll put some music on in a minute,” he said.  “One good thing about living above a shop mate, no neighbours!”

            Danny nodded, and looked at his beer without opening it.  “I think I’m drunk enough,” he murmured.  “Not used to it, you know.”

            “Don’t worry about it.  I’ll drink it for you.”  Michael sighed, and looked at his friend, sat forward and staring at the beer in his hand, as if lost for a moment.  He felt a flood of memories hammer through him, and had to rest his head in his hand.  He knew he was drunk, and it was all going to come out, one way or another, but he supposed it had to at some point.  “You know what you said?” he asked Danny.  “About us saving you?”

            Danny looked back at him and nodded.  Michael narrowed his eyes.  He saw a young man with the same scruffy blonde locks he had always had, worn long and tousled around his ears.  He tried to see what else was the same, what else was different.  Danny had piercing dark blue eyes, and most of the time back then, they had been full of fear.  Michael sat forward then, exhaling another ragged sigh.  “I wish it was true mate,” he told him.  “But I always felt like I let you down.”

            “Don’t be stupid.  No way.”

            “I did though.  We could have done more.  I’ve thought about it so much since…you know.  I’ve run it all through my mind so much, trying to work out if we could have done more.”

            Danny shook his head at him, his eyes sad.  “Don’t be stupid,” he said again.  “We were kids.  We were all just kids.”

            “I remember this one time,” Michael went on, his eyes fixed on the floor, his expression troubled.  “It was PE, and we were all getting changed, and you were always so private and quick about it, but I saw…I saw your back, fucking black and blue mate.  I didn’t say anything.”

            Michael watched Danny drop his head into his hands and shake it slowly back and forth.  He felt like a bastard then, for bringing it up, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep it all inside him, the guilt and the doubt and the rage.  He didn’t know how much more he could take of it, the weight of it, holding him down.  “You knew what I’d tell you,” he said softly.  “If you’d asked me.”

            “Your fucking bike,” Michael replied with a brief hard nod. “But I didn’t believe you, and you knew I didn’t.”

            “Mike, it doesn’t matter now, does it?  It’s over.  We all have to move on and forget about it, yeah?”

            “I know, but it’s hard mate.  I always thought, if only I’d woken up that morning.  If only I’d figured out what you were doing.  I could have stopped you.”

            “No point thinking like that mate.”

            “We could have done more, me and Anthony,” Michael was nodding now; the drink was rolling through him, accelerating the emotions and the memories.  He caught Danny’s eye and held it.  “We should have told the cops.  The school.  Anything.”

            “Michael, you were just kids,” Danny told him again, looking at him patiently.  “You were in an impossible situation.  Look what happened to Anthony!  You can’t beat yourself up about it.  You have to let it go.  I have.”

            “Have you?  Really, have you?  I find that hard to believe, I mean, I don’t know how you can.” He got up abruptly from the sofa and crossed the room. Next to the far wall he had a battered old, folded down table, with a wooden chair positioned next to it.  He had got it to eat his meals at, but that had never happened.  Meals were eaten on the sofa, or stood up in the kitchen.  On the table was his CD player and CD collection.  It was all a mess, he noted with a sigh, as he started to look through them to find something to put on.  He felt Danny’s eyes on him from the sofa.  He felt angry, but not at him, just at everything, at eight wasted years.  He flicked through the CDs, getting annoyed with himself, wondering what would or wouldn’t be okay.  In the end he put Oasis on and sat back down.  Danny was grinning at him tiredly.  Kurt had curled up his lap, emitting a series of grunts and groans as he tucked his feet under his chest and put his chin down.  Danny stroked him smoothly and slowly down his back.  Again, Michael felt the jolt of memory awakening him.  He saw Danny when he first got Kurt, when Lucy brought him over, just this tiny little white and tan bundle of energy.  And Danny had taken him everywhere with him, hadn’t he?  Even to the record shop, even to work.

            “You still listen to all this?”

            “Mostly,” Michael told him.  “I haven’t really got into anything new.  I mean, I can’t keep up with it, or nothing takes my fancy like the old stuff did.  Nothing good has come along since Nirvana or Oasis, has it?”

            “Not as good no,” Danny agreed with him.  “Do you still see Billy?  I bet he would disagree.”

            “See him sometimes,” Michael rolled his eyes, sighed angrily and waved a hand dismissively.  “Still go to Chaos sometimes,” he said, looking back at Danny, and feeling weary with it all.

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah, they do a grunge night, would you believe it?  That’s how fucking old we are now mate! They do theme nights from our time! They do a grunge one, and they do a fucking Britpop one too.”

            Danny laughed quietly, and looked away briefly.  “No way,” he said. “Living in the past eh?”

            Michael knew it was a joke, but he looked at him sharply.  “Anthony always says that to me.”

            “Does he?”

            “Yeah, like I’m stuck in the past or whatever.  Can’t move on.” He grinned and shrugged and shrank back into the sofa, lifting his beer to his lips.  “I guess that makes two of us then,” he said.  “You and me eh?”

            Danny turned and looked at him gently.  “I can’t let myself go there Mikey.”

            “What?”

            “The past.  I try not to think about it.  I decided at the beginning, when I was inside, that was the only way forward.  And especially the closer I got to being released. I tried to think about how I would handle it, and I figured not looking back is the best way.  Forget it all.  Put it behind and don’t look back.”

            “I can understand that,” Michael nodded, and fought the sudden urge he had to just throw his arms around him and hold him tight, just to make sure it was really real and not another crazy dream.  “It’s gonna’ be all good now isn’t it?  Now you’re out.  You’ve got your life back.  We’re all back together.  We can finally move on, can’t we?  Have the lives we deserve eh?”

            “You should have been doing that anyway Mike,” Danny told him, his tone slightly stern now.  “Not waiting for me, or dwelling on it or whatever.”

            “Hard not to,” Michael shrugged in defence.  “When something like that…something so unfair…” he felt the anger tightening him up inside, “something so fucking…”

            “Don’t Michael,” Danny said quickly, putting his hand on his knee.  “Don’t go there remember?  Past is past.  All over.  It’s been over for eight years.”

            “It wasn’t over for me,” Michael shook his head at him.  “Not until today.  Not until you got out.” He lifted the beer can and finished it off.  “I think Lucy’s been kind of stuck too,” he went on, as he crushed the empty can in his hand and tossed it onto the coffee table.  “You know.  Not sure how to go forward.  But the rest of them…well you saw for yourself.  Jake and Billy too.  Just like Anthony.  Fucking wives and kids and mortgages mate.”

            “So what’s wrong with that?” Danny laughed at him gently.  “And why not you?”

            “Don’t know.  Never felt right.”

            “Anthony worries about you.”

            “He worries about everything,” Michael groaned, picking up a second beer and opening it.  “That bloody woman of his is half the problem.”

            “So tell me about your kid.  Tell me about Zach.”

            Michael rested his beer in his lap and smiled dopily, stretching his legs out in front of him.  “He’s three mate.  He’s into fucking Thomas the Tank Engine and all that.”

            “I still can’t believe anyone had a kid with you,” Danny joked, finally sinking back into the sofa next to him, and stretching his legs out beside Michaels. He kept one hand on the little dogs back. “What happened between you and the mum?”

            “Didn’t work out.”

            “Why?”

            “Ah she was too clingy, too needy.  Too everything.  Bit thick really, bless her.  Couldn’t have decent conversations with her, you know?”  Michael scratched at his head and stifled a yawn.  “She’s sweet.  Nice girl Jenny is.  But it was never going to work out with us.”

            “So how often to you see Zach?”

            “It’s just whenever,” Michael said, looking away.  “Once a week.  Once a fortnight.”

            “Doesn’t sound much.”

            “He can’t really come here,” Michael tried to explain, as he felt another heavy dose of guilt pummel him from the inside.  “Look at this place!  She has a new fella now anyway.”  He swallowed and could not meet Danny’s eyes.  The silence stretched on, until Danny coughed and looked down at his lap.

            “What?”

            “I know, I know,” Michael said quickly, and drank more beer.  He wiped his mouth again, looked briefly at Danny, who was staring down, his jaw twitching.  “Believe me, I’ve thought every single thing you’re thinking right now, and worse, but don’t worry, I checked the guy out.  I fucking interrogated him.  He’s a dimwit mummies boy.  No threat to anyone.  What can I do?” He lifted his hands and dropped them again apologetically.  “I don’t want to be with Jenny.  I can’t expect her to stay single her whole life.”

            Danny met his eyes finally and smiled, but Michael could see right away how forced it was, and he felt the guilt flatten him all over again.  “I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” he said graciously.

            “Anthony doesn’t think so.”

            “No?”

            “He thinks I should be with the mother for the sake of the kid.  He thinks I’m slack, you know?  A crap dad or whatever.”

            “I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” Danny was shaking his head.

            “He does.  Just because he sticks it out with the queen bitch over there.  He does it for the kids.  He doesn’t want them to grow up without him.”

            “Because of your dad?”

            “Because of…” Michael trailed off, stopped himself, closed his eyes tightly for a moment and wondered how many times he would have to stop himself from wandering into the past.  Danny nodded, understanding.  He sighed and looked down at his lap.

            “I never thought about it affecting you all so much,” he said softly.  “I mean, I knew you’d miss me and be upset and everything.  But that was it.  I never thought it would impact on you so much…”

            “I tell you,” Michael said, eager to lighten the mood again.  “Fatherhood is fucking terrifying though!” He grinned and laughed.  “I love the little blighter, don’t get me wrong, but I’m shit scared the whole time!”

            “I would be too,” Danny was nodding.  “I’m never doing it, I’m telling you.”

            “Not even with Lucy?” Michael frowned at him.

            “No way.  Terrifying, like you said.  Anyway,” he shrugged and laced his hands together in his lap.  “I’m not really sure what’s going to happen with us.  Still can’t get my head around her being there today.  I sent the letter but she didn’t reply, so I didn’t know.  But you know, there is no way a sixteen year old girl just sits back and waits eight years for a boy, is there? And then live happily ever after?  I’m not naive enough to believe that.”

            “But she came!” Michael insisted loudly.  “She’s single!”

            “She’s loyal Mike,” Danny corrected him.  “Like you.”

            “She loves you, you twat.  What about the tattoo?”

            “Well yeah.  That did blow me away.”

            “So see how it goes?” Michael asked, looking at him in hope.  He had not realised how much he expected them to just slot back together.  That should be part of it, shouldn’t it?  That should be the happy ending.  “You’ve got all the time in the world mate,” he said.  “If you want to be together.  You know you both deserve it.  Fuck knows, you deserve a good life Dan.”

            “She must have had men, in all that time…” Danny mused, looking up to catch Michaels’ knowing smile.  He shrugged.

            “Think there was a bloke at University, but it wasn’t serious I don’t think.  I’m pretty sure she’s just been waiting for you.”

            “No pressure there then!” Danny laughed.

            “Hey?”

            “To not fuck it up, or let her down.”

            “Christ, you won’t.  Give it a chance.”

            “Got to meet her bloody parents tomorrow, no less,” Danny groaned, covering his eyes with one hand for a moment.  Michael laughed out loud. 

            “What are you worried about?”

            “They hated me back then, what the hell are they gonna’ think now?”

            “They understand,” Michael assured him, nodding.  “Don’t worry about it.  We’ll be there too.  Me and Anthony.”

            “So tell me about Billy and Jake,” Danny said, changing the subject. “They still local?”

            “Billy is.  He moved in with some girl, over in Redchurch.  I see him about.  I’ve got his number.  I sent him a text about you coming out and he said he’d like to see you.  You want me to text him back and arrange something?”

            Michael watched as Danny considered this, and appreciated his hesitance.  Billy and Jake had never gone to visit Danny in prison.  Not once.  It had been the cause of endless conflict between Michael and them over that summer.  Then they had both gone on to sixth form, Jake then left for University in London, and that was it.  It left a bad taste in Michael’s mouth when he thought about it, even now.  To him, friends were friends; they stuck together, no matter what.  “I don’t mind,” Danny said finally.  “I’m cool with that if he is.  Be a bit weird, but you know.  It’s all gonna’ be weird for a while.  You don’t see Jake then?”

            “He lives in London,” said Michael.  “Got married two years back.  Has a sixth month old daughter, and he works in a bank.  Fuck knows what he does.  Don’t fucking care.”

            “How do you know all that?”

            “Friends Reunited mate, on the internet.”

            “Oh right, I heard about that inside but I didn’t really get it.”

            Michael felt sudden warmth towards him, and again, resisted the urge to grab him for another hug. “Oh mate,” he laughed softly.  “There’s gonna’ be so much that will blow your mind!  Get Lucy to show you tomorrow.  You can find anyone on there.  Stay in touch with people from the past, that kind of thing.  I don’t have the Internet here though.  Haven’t got around to it yet.”

            “So Lucy is friends with him via that?” Danny asked, frowning. Michael thought the confused expression made him look young again, not that he looked twenty-four anyway, the lucky bastard.  He could have easily passed for five years younger.  He nodded at him.

            “Yep, and others.  If you want to be nosy just go on there.  I’ll text Billy for you though.  He’s a good boy really.”

            “He did write,” Danny said then.  “Every now and again.”

            “So he bloody should have done.  You were their friend.  We were a gang.  They weren’t supposed to just forget you once you were gone.” Michael finished the second beer, crushed the can again and dropped it carelessly to the floor.  He realised that his plan to pick it up later would probably not be seen through.  The carpet was littered with things he had dropped and hadn’t gotten around to picking up again.  The joys of living alone, he thought to himself, you don’t have to tidy up if you don’t want to. 

            “They probably couldn’t get their heads around it,” Danny was saying, biting at his bottom lip, which Michael watched sadly, remembering how he always used to do that when he was nervous.

            “I don’t get that,” Michael shrugged angrily.  “They knew the situation for fucks sake.  Jake had some first hand experience of it, don’t forget!”

            “Mmm.  But you know.  What I did….”

            “What you did Danny, we all understood, you know that don’t you?  And anyone who doesn’t understand, well, then they don’t know fuck all do they?  They weren’t there, they didn’t see.” Michael was getting wound up.  He recognised the familiar surge of frustration and resentment.  He had been living with it for the last eight years and considered it a friend. He had been angry a lot, he realised.  But the anger had helped him through.  Getting drunk and punching people who pissed him off had come with the territory.  He looked at Danny and saw the doubt in his eyes.  “You don’t regret it do you?  What you did?  Because I fucking wouldn’t, eight years inside included.  I still think you did what you had to do.”

            Danny sighed and looked down at his lap again.  “I’ve thought about it a lot,” he said.  “There’ve been times I’ve thought about nothing less and times I was probably nearly went crazy thinking about it.”

            “And?”

            “I don’t know.”

            Michael got up then from the sofa.  Danny looked at him.  “Need something stronger,” he said, and walked back to the kitchen.  He dragged a half full bottle of whiskey off the side and stalked back into the lounge.  If they were going to have this conversation, then he knew he was going to need some more insulation.  He placed two glasses on the coffee table and sloshed a measure of whiskey into each one.  Danny reached for his and lifted it to his lips.  Michael stood for a moment, looking around at his flat, at the disarray and the chaos of it all. 

            “You know what’s bothered me all this time?” he said then.  “You know what I wish?  Like, night after night?”

            “What?”

            “That we’d got you to talk that night.  That night you came back to the bed-sit.  We knew it was really bad.  You were so angry…all shut down…wouldn’t even look at us or talk to us.” Michael shook his head and sat back down.  He could see it so clearly in his head and it hurt like hell. 

            “That part is still a blur,” said Danny.  “I barely remember it.”

            “Your face was covered in blood,” Michael went on, holding his whiskey up and staring into the glass.  “You couldn’t walk properly.  Your wrists all bloodied and cut.  We were stupid!  So stupid!” he turned and looked at Danny then, his dark eyes full of the memory.  “We let you go to sleep.  Then in the morning you were gone.  We should have made you talk.  We could have snapped you out of it if we’d tried!” he shook his head angrily.  “Instead we just left you.”

            “Michael,” Danny told him gently.  “You had no idea what I was going to do.  You can’t blame yourselves for anything.”

            “We should have called the cops,” Michael went on, turning sideways to stare at Danny, one arm over the back of the sofa.  “As soon as you came back.  I don’t know why we fucking didn’t!  God, if I could go back…”

            “Mike, we were all scared of the cops, remember?  We didn’t know who to trust.”

            “So what about you?  Would you do the same again, if you could go back?”

            Danny looked overwhelmed with the question and breathed out slowly, before drinking a mouthful of whiskey.  “It’s so hard to say,” he held up his hands and dropped them again.  “I’m not proud of what I did.  I’m not proud of what it makes me.  And I’d do anything to have the last eight years back.  To have a normal life.  You know, to have grown up with you guys, doing what normal teenagers do.”

            “But?” Michael asked him, touching him gently on the shoulder.  “Do you think that would have happened?”

            Danny shook his head firmly.  “No.  If he’d been alive, it would have gone on. I know that.  One way or another, it all would have carried on.  We would have had to keep running, and hiding. Remember what he was like?  He was obsessed.  He wanted me to work for him, do you know that?  Did I tell you that?”

            Michael shook his head in amazement.  After being sentenced, Danny had said very little to anyone about what had led up to that fateful morning.  It was like he had shut down and closed up.  He took the sentence without flinching, put his head down and got on with it.  Michael had a sense of him marching through the years that followed like a tin soldier; every blow and every glimpse of hope just bouncing right back off of him.  “I didn’t know that, what do you mean, work for him?” he asked.

            “He was on about it for a while.  I kept saying no.  He wouldn’t take no for an answer.  He wanted me to take up Freeman’s old position.”  Danny’s eyes shifted to meet Michaels, and Michael felt his lips wanting to pull back in disgust.  There was a name he could not think about or hear without feeling like taking a bath afterwards.

            “No way,” he said gently, lip curled slightly.

            “Yeah.  That’s what he wanted the whole time.  His good boy. Whatever the fuck that meant.  That’s why he took me that night.  To get me to say yes.”

            “Danny, he would have killed you eventually.  You know that.”  Michael touched his shoulder again and kept his hand there.  Danny was nodding in agreement.

            “Or I would have killed myself.  Thought crossed my mind at times.”

            “So you don’t regret it then?” Michael whispered.  He felt the warmth of the whiskey soaking through his body, loosening him up.  He wanted to sink back into the sofa and close his eyes.  He wondered how well he would sleep that night, and imagined himself waking up, convinced it was all a dream.  Danny looked him in the eye and stared at him silently. 

            “No,” he said to him. “I don’t regret killing that twisted bastard.”