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.”

2

Michael

 

 

            He had to go outside to smoke.  His sister-in-law Christina did not like anyone smoking around the kids.  Fair enough.  He waited for his brother outside, and smoked his cigarette leaning over the brick wall that enclosed the small front garden.  He had left the front door slightly open, although he guessed that would probably be wrong too.  He’d be letting the heat out, or something. Hurry up, he was thinking inwardly, hurry up Anthony. He straightened up to pull out his phone to check the time and saw that Lucy had replied to his text.  She was on her way over.  His stomach did a little lurch and he sucked his breath in and grimaced.  So this was it then.  This was the day.  He stared back at the road, frowning at every small car that passed, in case it was hers.  She had a Mini didn’t she?  He tried to remember when he had last seen her, and all he could come up with was that it was some time back in the summer.  At a barbeque.  One of those things where someone tries to get old friends back together.  It had been weird, Michael remembered.  You always think everything is weird, he heard his brothers voice say in his head.

 

            His ears strained back to the noises coming from the house.  The TV on, one of the kids whingeing, and Anthony and Christina having words in the kitchen.  Michael sighed, finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on the top of the wall.  He almost dropped the butt onto the ground, but then he thought twice.  Christina would go nuts.  One of the kids might pick it up.  He sighed and dropped it over the wall onto the pavement instead.  “You’ve known about this for ages,” he heard Anthony hiss at his wife.

 

            He looked back at the road.  A white van trundled slowly past, followed closely by a bright orange Mini Cooper, one of the old style ones.  Michael grinned.  He watched her making faces at the slow van, before jerking the little car in to the kerb once it had got out of the way.  She got out, locked the car, shook back her hair and saw him staring.  “Morning!” she beamed.  Michael beamed back.  He was unable to help himself.  He came quickly around the garden wall and put his arms around her.

            “Hi Lucy. Good to see you.”

            He felt her arms squeezing him in return.  “Good to see you too. Can’t actually believe this day is here…but you know! It’s weird.”

            Michael pulled back, let her go and nodded at her. “It’s fucking amazing, is what it is,” he told her, and she grinned at his swearing, something he had evidently not grown out of. 

            “Anthony inside?” she asked him.

            “Yeah.  Missis is on his case I think.”

            “Why?”

            “Fuck knows.  It’s not like she hasn’t known about this for years! Miserable bitch.”

            Lucy made a face and then coughed into her hand.  Michael looked behind him and saw Anthony’s eldest staring back at him from the front garden.  The little boy, dark haired and well built, was the image of his father.  He narrowed his eyes at Michael and tipped his head to one side.  “Uncle Mike were you saying swear words?”

            “No,” Michael said quickly, grinning at Lucy.  “Not at all! I wouldn’t be doing that would I?”

            “Were you smoking?”

            “No! Course not! What do you think I am?  Did your dad send you out here to spy on me Liam?”

            Liam came up to the wall, and tried to pull himself up on it. “Hello,” he said to Lucy.

            “Wow how old are you now Liam?” Lucy asked him.  “You’re getting so big!”

            “Seven,” Liam told her, finally scrambling onto the wall and lowering one leg down the other side so that he straddled it sideways. “Where are you all going?”

            “I told you,” said Michael. “We’re going to pick my friend up. He’s been away for a long time.”

            “Where’s he been?  On holiday?”

            “Sort of.”

            “Hey you’re not meant to be out here without a coat on,” Anthony said then, coming quickly through the front door.  He swept his arms around the little boy and pulled him down from the wall.  The boy squealed and giggled, and then turned and flung his arms around Anthony’s legs.

            “Can I come with you?”

            “No sorry mate.  You’ve got to stay with mummy.” Anthony looked up and nodded at Lucy.  “Hi darling, how are you doing?”

            She nodded back, hands in pockets. “Keen to get going,” she said. “Nerves are setting in again.”

            “Right you are.  Hang on.” Anthony swung his little boy around in a circle then dropped him back through the front door, and patted him on the head.  “Be a good boy.  See you later.”

            “See you later daddy.”  The door closed and Anthony turned to face them. 

            “Ready?” Michael asked him. “Finally?”

            “Shut it.  You know what she’s like.”

            Michael rolled his eyes.  “Come on then.  We’re going.”

 

            He led the way to his car.  They were taking his, having mutually decided Lucys’ would be too small for them all, and Anthony’s too full of the kids’ stuff.  Michael gestured for Lucy to join him up front.  He was getting nervous himself now, he realised, as they all got in, and he stuck the key into the ignition.  They were all silent.  Even small talk seemed impossible.  Michael chewed at his bottom lip, scratched at his neck, pushed back his hair and drove off.  Lucy looked politely back at Anthony sprawled out in the back.  “How’s Jess?” she asked.  “She must be, what, four now?”

            “Five,” he corrected her.  “She’s five.  Little madam.  Takes after her mum.”

            “Oh lovely.  They’re both lovely, I mean.”

            “Thanks.  How are things with you?  Work and that?”

            “Oh I’m back in Reception this year,” she said with a smile.  “They like to move us around a bit.  Keeps us on our toes!”

            “Still can’t believe you’re a teacher at our old school,” Michael said to her.  “That is mental.”

            “It is isn’t it?”

            They all nodded.  Nodded, and then fell silent again.  After a few moments Michael saw Lucy lean forward to fiddle with the radio.  She found a station and leaned back in her seat again, her hands folded on top of each other on her lap.  He stole sideways glances at her.  He thought she looked better than ever.  She had been pretty in school, in a studious and serious sort of way, but she had blossomed since then.  He thought she was one of those women who just looked better and better as they grew older. She had an air about her, he thought.  Calm and confident, and at ease with herself.  She exuded kindness, but then, she always had, hadn’t she?  She’s stuck it out, he remembered, nodding to himself, good on her for that. A song came on the radio then, and Michael felt it like a stab to the heart. ‘Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be…’  He shook his head.

            “Fuckinghell.”

            “I know,” Lucy sighed beside him.  “I just had the same thing in my car.  It’s like every bloody song, isn’t it?”

            “You all used to go mental for this one,” Anthony recalled, sitting forward suddenly.  Michael looked at his face in the mirror.  His hair was as dark as ever, no signs of going grey yet, although he often joked that the kids were sending him that way.  “At Chaos, do you remember? Always went totally mental if Nirvana came on.”

            “Fuckinghell,” Michael said again, because he didn’t know what else he could say.

            “Certain songs bring back certain memories ,” Lucy mused, staring straight ahead.  “You know when it was summer and you used to drag those old chairs out the front?  Always had music on. If I hear anything by The Stone Roses, I think of that.”

            Michael nodded, and said nothing.  He didn’t know what to say.  In some ways he hated nostalgia, all this talking about the old days, when we were young and all of that, but up until today that was all they had owned.  Memories.  He tightened his hand on the wheel and glanced again at Anthony in the mirror.  He was lighting a cigarette, his expression tense.  “You okay back there?” Michael asked him.  “Not gonna’ comment on my driving are you?”

            “We all know your driving is shit,” Anthony replied dryly.

            “Oi.  Still smoking behind the old lady’s back I see?”

            “Don’t call her an old lady, and I think today calls for a smoke or two, don’t you?”

            “I know what you mean,” said Lucy, nodding.  “It’s going to be strange all right.”

            “When did you last speak to him?” Anthony asked her.  She sucked in her breath, stared at the road ahead and then exhaled again slowly.

            “I don’t know,” she said.  “Probably about a year ago.  Maybe eighteen months?”

            Anthony nodded. “You been writing though yeah?”

            “Oh yeah. Every month.”

            “I spoke to him yesterday,” Michael announced, glancing at the two of them briefly.  “He doesn’t know you’re coming Luce, you know that right?”

            “Yeah, I know.  I didn’t make my mind up until yesterday actually.  I was still debating it in my head.  Would he want to see me?  Is it the right thing to do?”

            “Well you’re here,” said Michael.  “So it must be.”

            She shrugged at him. “I still don’t know.”

            “He’ll be glad,” Michael told her, with certainty.  “I promise you.”

 

            They drove on, falling back into silence.  The radio blared. Michael reached forward and turned it up a notch or two.  They listened, not looking at each other.  Every now and again there would be another song, another twist of the knife, and Michael would bite down on his lower lip, controlling himself, holding his emotions in check.  It was a strange day, Lucy was right about that.  It was a hell of a day.  His mind could barely cope with it all.  The memories were one thing, the years that had passed were another, and then there were the possibilities, the future, the now.  He shook his head, biting his lip and trying to concentrate on the road ahead.  He had no idea how someone could adjust to everyday life after so long away.  It was quite simply impossible to fathom. 

 

            It was an hour’s drive.  They pulled up outside the prison just a few minutes before ten am.  Michael turned the radio off, raised his eyebrows at Lucy, and then swivelled in his seat to look at Anthony.  “He should be here any minute,” he told them both.  “What the fuck are we meant to say, eh?”  He smiled, feeling the excitement rushing through him suddenly.  He felt as nervous as hell, but happy too, he reflected, really happy, because wasn’t this the day they had all been waiting for, the past eight years?  Wasn’t this the day that had been hanging over their heads, shadowing everything else that had gone in-between?  It felt that way for Michael, anyway.  Like everything had just been building towards this day, this one momentous day.  It had become the day that would finally made everything all right again.  Yes, that was it, he thought, nodding to himself; this was the day they could all start to live again.  He bounced up and down on his seat a little bit, and shook his fists at Anthony, who grinned back at him.  “I think Lucy should get out the car first,” he said, suddenly. “To surprise him! Imagine his face!”

            Lucy was smiling back at him, but she was scared too, he could tell.  She kept pushing her hair behind her ears.  He remembered her doing that at school whenever she was nervous.  “I’m not sure,” she said.  “Don’t we all want to get out?”

            “No, you first,” Michael insisted.  “Because I know how much he’s hoping you’ll be here.  You have to.  You really do.”

            “Well you better make your minds up fast,” Anthony commented casually from the back seat.  “Because I can see him coming!”

            Michael immediately rolled his window down and leaned out.  Anthony did the same from the back.  They leaned out as far as they could, grinning and waving. 

            “Okay then,” Lucy said bravely and stepped out of the car.

            “Go Lucy,” Michael murmured, watching her.  “Good moment,” he mused, nodding again. 

            “Got to be the best?” agreed Anthony.  They both watched as Lucy walked hesitantly at first, along the pavement towards the young man that had just come through the prison gates.  They saw his face brighten with the biggest grin, and then Lucy started to run towards him.  “Jesus Christ!” laughed Anthony.

            “Look at her go!  Fuck me!  Oh man, this is the best,” Michael clapped his hands together, and could not take his eyes off of them.  He felt like his heart would burst from sheer joy, as he watched them embrace, watched Lucy disappear into his arms, her feet leaving the ground.  “All right!” he cried, shaking his fists again. “What a moment eh?  Fucking hell, look at them!”

            “I know,” Anthony was nodding, a big dopey smile eating up his face.  He reached across and patted his brother on the shoulder.  “Waited eight fucking years to see that.”

            “Come on,” Michael said then, shoving his door open.  “They’ve had long enough, I want some of that action!”

            Anthony laughed and followed him from the car.  “You bastard!” Michael was yelling and ambling up to his old friend, with his arms spread wide.  “Come here then!” 

            Anthony rushed up from behind, grabbing his brother and shoving him forward, so that they all became one big bundle of arms, hugging and ruffling hair, slapping backs. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

Danny

 

            It was a surreal moment.  He knew that when he was in the middle of it.  Totally and utterly surreal.  Almost dreamlike.  He had of course dreamed about this moment for years, and now here it was, for real, and in the flesh.  He had tears in his eyes as he hugged them all, and felt their arms around him, their hands gripping him.  It was too much emotion to deal with almost.  The moment was in danger of building up, exploding with the weight of it all, so he shook himself free, kept one arm firmly around Lucy and pointed to the rust red Escort they had ran from.  “That your car?” he asked Michael, who grinned and nodded in return.  “Piece of shit!”

            Anthony laughed out loud, and clapped him on the back again.  “Wait till you see how he drives that piece of shit!”

            “Hey I’m a great driver!” Michael protested as they made their way back towards the car. 

            “He lost his license two years ago,” Anthony confided in Danny with a wry grin.  “That’s how good a driver he is.”

            “Fuck you,” Michael responded.  “That wasn’t my fault and you know it.”

            “How many times have you crashed since you passed your test?” Anthony said, jumping to the side to avoid being punched.  Danny watched Michael narrow his dark eyes and point a finger at his brother.

            “None of them were my fault!”

            They all laughed.  They reached the car and Danny climbed into the back with Lucy, dropping he looked at her.  She hadn’t stopped smiling, he noticed.  Her eyes looked wet, but she was not sobbing or anything.  That was typical Lucy, he thought, watching her, so together.  “What am I letting myself in for eh?” he joked, nodding at the back of Michael’s head as he slammed the door and turned the engine on.  Anthony dived in the other side and turned to grin at them.

            “Fasten your seat belts people!”

            “So where are we going?” Danny asked.  “I mean, I know your place Mike, but where are you even living these days?”

            “Belfield Park.”

            “You’re joking?”

            “Nope.”

            “Please don’t say the same bed sit?”

            “No course not.  I’m above fucking Poundland, aren’t I?”  They all looked at each other before roaring with laughter.  Michael frowned at them.  “What?  What’s wrong with that?  It’s a decent flat.  Close to all the amenities.”

            “It’s a shithole,” Anthony informed Danny.

            “Oh you can shut up Mr. Fucking Domestic!” Michael groaned and drove off, driving with one hand on the steering wheel while he searched his pocket for cigarettes.  “There is nothing wrong with my flat.  You’re round there often enough, mate, escaping the missus!”  He grinned at Danny in the mirror.  “Wait till you meet her mate.”  Anthony lashed out and punched his brother in the arm.

            “I’m warning you!”

            Michael giggled.  “Whoops. Hey wait ‘till you see Kurt Dan!”

            Danny grinned. “He must be getting on now, what about nine?” He smiled at the thought of seeing his little dog again.  Michael and Lucy had taken care of him, sharing him between them over the years.

            “He’s a bit slow and fat but I bet he’ll remember you,” Michael said.

            “He’s fat because Mike feeds him the same crap he eats!” Anthony said with a roll of the eyes.  Michael frowned at him.

            “I don’t eat crap.  I just don’t like cooking. We can’t all be fancy chefs, can we?”

            Danny looked down at Lucy.  She was sat beside him, her leg against his.  He wondered if he ought to slide his arm around her, pull her in close, but the more he thought about it, the less he felt able to do it.  He had not seen or spoken to her in over a year, he realised.  She had written faithfully, every month without fail, but that was not the same as seeing someone in the flesh, or speaking to someone over the phone.  He did not even know if she was single, or whatever, although going by the kiss they had just shared, he guessed she was.  And the tattoo.  That had blown him away.  Danny-Boy tattooed across her hipbone.  She’d had it there the whole time, the whole eight years, and she had not told him until just now.  He shook his head, unable to absorb it all. 

 

            “I am thinking pub first,” Anthony announced from the front, turning in his seat to look back at Danny and Lucy.  “I don’t have to be home for hours, let’s put it that way, might as well make the most of it.  Pub everyone?”

            “Okay,” Danny agreed unsurely.  “Why not?”

            “Definitely,” said Lucy.

            “I’m in,” said Michael, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.  “Dan?”

            “Oh yeah.  Go on then.  If you’ve got a spare.”

            “Course I have,” Michael pushed the packet back towards him. “Help yourself.”

            “Pub first,” Anthony went on. “Few drinks, then on to Mike’s yeah? That where you’re staying Dan, right?”

            Danny nodded in agreement.  “That’s it.”

            “Like old times, eh?” Michael laughed from the front.   They all looked at each other, sharing awkward smiles.  Old times, Danny thought, although old times was one thing he really did not want to think about.  Anthony was still watching him, his mouth straight and tight, his eyes burning with it all, all the unsaid things, and the wonder among all of them about how long they would remain unsaid.  Danny looked at Anthony, and felt bowled over by how much he had changed; yet still seemed the same.  He looked like a man, like a grown up, like a dad, broad and thick and steady.  His face older, the lines on his forehead deeper, the creases around his eyes more prominent.  He was a fucking dad.  A husband.  Owned a house.  Danny knew the realisations and the jolts were going to be hitting him for a long time to come.  Eight years, he thought, eight years!  Anthony smiled at him, and it was a smile he knew from the past, it was a smile of worry and pity, and it hit him like a blow to the heart.  No more of those smiles, he thought to himself, gritting his teeth, no more need for those smiles.

            “So tell me about the kids,” he looked up and asked.  “Tell me about the wife and kids, and all of that.  Fill me in.  Come on,” he looked to Lucy, and then to Michael.  “I know we’ve been in touch, but come on, there’s so much I don’t know.”

           

It was a wise move, he reflected, ten minutes later when Anthony was in full flow, regaling him with tales of fatherhood, work and responsibility.  Better than that were the knowing looks Michael was giving him in the mirror, as if to say, get him, Jesus Christ! But the tension had slipped away, for the time being.  The words still left unsaid.

 

            He tried to just be in the moment, as they drove away from the prison, and back to the old territory.  Michael had a pub he liked just down the road from his flat in Belfield Park.  He tried to push away the enormity of the day, and the fear for what lay ahead.  Living in the moment, he told himself, as the car drove on, don’t think back and don’t think forward.  Best way to be.  He realised on some level that it was a survival mechanism, stopping his brain every time it flicked back or zoomed forward, just stop, stop, wait here.  Hold on.  He hoped a drink or two would help.

 

            Michael parked the car around the back of his flat, and they followed him up the road to the The Olde Inne, his usual haunt, or so he informed them.  He certainly seemed well known in there, even at quarter past eleven in the morning.  The chubby bloke behind the bar, slung a wet tea towel over his shoulder and offered him a wide grin. “All right mate?”

            “All right Tone!” Michael approached the bar, slapped his hands down upon it and jerked his head towards the rest of them, piling in behind him. “Big day mate! We need tequila shots and pints! And fucking crisps too.”

            “All right, all right, I think I get the idea,” Tony laughed. “What’s the big occasion then?”

            “Tell you later,” Michael tipped him a wink and nodded to the corner of the pub.  “Bring ‘em over yeah?”

            “No problem mate.”

            Michael gestured for them to follow him.  Danny looked around, and again the feeling of living within a dream came over him.  He realised in amazement that he had never actually set foot in a pub in his entire life.  A club, yes, Chaos, back in the day when they were all underage except for Anthony, but not a pub, not a place like this, where men came to sit in corners and cradle pints and watch sports.  He took a seat between Lucy and Michael and could not speak, as he stared around himself, taking it all in.  It was a small, dark little place, one bar, with toilets on one side and a lonely pool table on the other.  The carpet was threadbare and stained, the furniture sagging and frayed.  It was comfy though, he thought, settling back, and quiet too.  Going to the pub had appealed to him in many ways.  Alcohol for one thing; he had not had even a sniff of a drink in eight years, but it had filled him with doubt at the same time.  Everything, he thought then, staring around, everything would fill him with doubt, for some time to come. 

            The chubby man brought a tray over, lined with shots of tequila and pints of beer.  Danny could not help but grin at it, and Michael could not help but slap a hand down onto his thigh and beam into his face.  “You’re back,” he said then, his voice strangled slightly, his eyes shining.  “You’re fucking back.”  Danny nodded.  Picked up a shot and chucked it down his throat, while they all cheered, and Anthony smacked the table, and Lucy clapped a hand to her mouth.  He felt the hot burn in his throat, and the buzz behind his eyes.

            “Not bad,” he told them, as they watched him, waiting.  It was smiles all around, a smiling table, full of hope, in that moment.  They followed suit and downed their shots, wiping their mouths and laughing, and Danny swallowed hard and thought he had never loved anyone as much as he loved these three people, right here. Live in the moment, he told himself again when he picked up his pint, don’t think back, don’t think ahead, and you’ll be okay, one day at a time.

            “Gonna’ put a song on,” Michael said abruptly and left the table.  Danny drank his beer, and realised quickly that it would make him drunk before it was over. 

            “I’ll be a lightweight,” he told Anthony’s watchful face.  “Starting over!”

            “Cheaper that way,” Anthony mused. “Have you got any idea what you’ll do for a job? Do they sort that all out for you?”

            “I don’t know.  Don’t think so. Did they for you?”

            “Yeah.  They did. Back then.”

            Danny nodded.  Sucked in his bottom lip and stared at his pint. Anthony had been to jail twice, he remembered.  And the second time was because of him. “I’ll have to have a think about it all,” he said with a sigh, looking up.  “Haven’t got a clue what I want to do really.  Not that I’ll have that many choices, obviously.”

            “You do any courses inside?”

            “Yeah.  English.”

            “English?”

            “Yeah.  English.  I did a degree.”

            Anthony nearly spat out his beer.  Lucy looked on, wide-eyed.  Danny nodded at them both.  “You got a degree?” asked Anthony.  “Inside?  A fucking degree?”

            “Yeah, why not?”

            “I don’t know!  Get you, eh?”

            “Good on you,” Lucy smiled, patting his arm.  “That’s amazing.  Any idea what you’ll do with it?”

            “Not a clue,” Danny shrugged. “It just killed the time, you know.  Read a lot of good books and wrote about them.  I liked it.”

            “Why not eh?” grinned Anthony.  “Always knew you were a little brain box really.”

            Michael sauntered back to the table.  Danny looked down at the floor, felt the need to inhale a deep breath, as the alcohol started to hit him.  Michael’s song choice kicked into play and Danny jerked his head back up, stared at Michael who was smiling lazily back at him, eyebrows raised; “Fucking…Lithium!” he mouthed.  Michael nodded.  Danny smiled, looked down, and wanted to cry.  He felt Michael nudge him with his elbow, and they sat side by side in silence.  I’m so happy, because today I found my friends, they’re in my head…

            “It’s gonna’ be all right now,” Michael said to him hoarsely, before the song drew to an end. He glanced sideways, met Danny’s eye.  “You know that don’t you?  It’s gonna’ be all right now.”

            Danny nodded, nudged him back.  “What else can I think?” he replied.  And it was true.  What else could you do, but hope for the best?

 

            Drinking in the day, Danny thought some time later, what is it about drinking in the day?  Why does it make you so much drunker, so much faster?  They had not planned to stay in the pub this long.  One or two drinks had been the plan.  But two hours had passed in a blur, and they were all merry, and Lucy was asking how she was supposed to get home now, and her cheeks were a vibrant red from the tequila shots.  “I’ll call you a taxi,” Michael told her, and got up from the table.  They watched him go the bar, where he ordered more drinks and pulled out his mobile phone.  Anthony leaned in towards Danny, his tone low as he said; “he’s missed you, you know.  He’s been lost.” Danny nodded, holding his drink and knowing there was more to come.  “He’s worried the hell out of me most of the time, you know.  Bounced from one disaster to another.”

            “How do you mean?”

            Anthony shrugged, his eyes on Michael at the bar. “Jobs.  Relationships.  Fights.  Just nothing but trouble.”

            “I’m sorry,” Danny heard himself murmur before he could stop himself.  Anthony frowned at him immediately.

            “Don’t say sorry,” he said sharply.  “Never say you are sorry.  I never want to hear you say that again Danny.  Okay?”

            “Okay.”

            They fell silent as Michael came back from the bar and slid back between them.  “Course you know who else comes in here most days, don’t you?” he announced, slinging a heavy arm around Danny’s shoulders and peering curiously into his face.

            “Who?”

            “The fat man!”

            Danny laughed out loud and slapped the table with one hand. “You’re joking, Terry’s still knocking about? No way!”

            “Yeah, he’s still slobbing about,” Michael grinned at him, his arm falling away as he picked his next drink up.  “He kept that shop going for years, then he had to close it down.”

            Danny nodded. “Oh that’s a shame.”

            “Not too bad,” Michael told him. “He opened another one down the road from here. Bit smaller. Think he sells porn vids out the back door, the dirty bastard.”

            “Another record shop?” Danny asked. “What’s he called it?”

            “Oh this is the clever bit.  ‘The Record Shop Too’. Genius, eh?” Michael laughed at Danny’s dazed expression. “He’ll love to see you mate, he will. Always asks about you. He’s still the same sarcastic old fat man obsessed with the fucking Smiths.”

            “Bless him,” Danny murmured, and he meant it. 

 

Lucy was putting on her coat next to him, and checking her pockets.  Danny watched her, and her eyes met his, and she smiled.  “Mike will bring you round mine tomorrow,” she told him then.  “I’m cooking a roast dinner for everyone.  Mum and dad want to come too, will that be all right?” He shrugged in reply, not wanting to think about it now.  “Good,” she said, and picked up the last of her drink, holding it aloft.  “We should drink a toast,” she said to them all.  “To Danny.  To his future.”

            “Danny,” Michael said, clinking his drink with hers.

            “The future,” Anthony nodded sombrely.  Danny forced a weak smile.  He felt like they were waiting for him to say something.

            “You’re the three people I love most in this world,” he told them, blinking back the tears and smiling at them.  He saw Lucy look down, then drag a hand across her eyes.  “Couldn’t have been three better people to meet me today.  You’re the ones who saved me.”

            Anthony and Lucy looked at him, smiled and drained the last of their drinks.  Michael was watching him, his expression taut with tension.  Danny watched him down half a pint of beer, then wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, before slamming the pint back onto the table and saying; “but we didn’t save you.  Or you wouldn’t have just spent eight years in prison.”

1

Lucy

 

 

September 2004

Today was the day.

 

The sick twist of nerves pushed through her stomach and up to her throat each and every time she thought of it.  It was a feeling not unlike the nausea experienced before an important exam.  Or a driving test.  She would be all right for a few moments, moving around the flat, finding shoes and opening yesterdays post.  A mobile phone bill, and a post card from her sister.  The phone bill she tossed onto the kitchen table.  The post card was a welcome distraction.  Her eldest sister had taken her three children to Euro Disney.  She read the card, smiling.  For a moment, the sick feeling had gone.  But then she realised the kettle had boiled, and she was about to have a coffee, and then it would be nearly time to leave, and the sick feeling whooshed back in a hurry.  Because today was the day.

 

There was no room in her stomach for breakfast, she realised.  She made her coffee and drank it standing up, leaning against the kitchen worktop.  She stared at the floor, blowing the steam gently from the top of the mug.  She felt herself slide into a trance, her eyes fixated on the laminated floorboards.  Her mind jumped around from subject to subject; trying to avoid the unavoidable; when the coffee was gone, it would be time to go.  She thought of the laminate as she stared at it.  She remembered how long it had taken her to save up for it.  How ridiculously proud of it she had been.  Now it was just a floor.  She realised, at the back of her mind that she was trying not to think about it.  About today.  She thought of her sister, and her three little nieces, and pictured their smiling faces, meeting Mickey Mouse.  A song came on the radio and her heart fluttered; her hand went to her mouth.  It was just a song.  Like so many songs.  So many songs that stopped her in her tracks.  So many songs that brought it all back.

 

She drained the last of her coffee, shook herself out of her daydream and placed the mug on the draining board behind her.  She took a deep breath and picked her mobile up from the table, where she had placed it next to her car keys.  She checked it for messages and there were two.  One from her mother, which read simply; ‘good luck honey let me know how you get on.’  Her mother refused to use text speak, spelling each and every word out correctly every time.  She typed out; ‘ok thanks, will do’ and pressed send.  The other message said simply; ‘u ok?  Ready when u r. C u soon.’  She felt the need to take some deep breaths and typed in; ‘just leaving. C u in ten mins.’  Send.  Time to go.

 

She shoved her mobile into her pocket, grabbed her keys and walked through to the hallway.  She took her duffel coat down from the hook next to the door and shrugged it on, feeling a nervous shake work its way down her body as she did.  She shook out her limbs, took a deep, soothing breath. She watched herself in the mirror there, as she did.  She buttoned up her coat, pulled down her scarf and wrapped it around her neck.  More deep breaths.  She realised her mind had gone strangely blank.  Like no one was home.  Her body was moving in the right direction, doing the right things, but her mind had emptied.  She felt oddly dreamlike, like she was still in a trance, just going through the motions of leaving the flat, as if she were simply off to work.  Maybe that was better, she reasoned.  Better not to think, not yet.  Better just to leave, just get into the car and drive.  Better not to think about what lay ahead, how hard it might be, how wonderful it could be.

 

She nodded to her reflection in the mirror and used her hands to smooth her hair down around her face.  She checked her make up, as she always did before she left the house.  She opened the door and greeted the day, the day.  She inhaled the crisp autumn air and pulled the door shut behind her.  Well this is it, she thought then, listening to the sound her trainers made as they patted down the three stone steps from her front door.  This is it, this is the day, the day is here.

 

She unlocked her battered old Mini, and got in.  Just before she could close the door and start heating the little car up, her upstairs neighbour came jogging along the pavement.  Carl was a few years older than her, a fitness fanatic, and a pretty good neighbour to live below.  He slowed down when he saw her; red-faced and sweating in his grey running trousers and black hooded top.

“Good run?” she asked him.  He grinned.

“Yeah! You off then?  The big day is it?”

She nodded.  “Yep.  I’m off.”

He patted the roof of the car and turned towards their building. “Speak to you later then,” he said.  “Good luck!”

“Thanks Carl.” She pulled the door shut and turned the engine on.  Music roared instantly, making her jump. She reached for the volume quickly to turn it down, shaking her head, wondering why she did that every time.  Oh Christ, it was another song, another one of those songs.  Memories came flooding back and she covered her mouth for a horrible moment, thinking she was going to cry.  It’s okay, it’s okay to cry, she told herself as she checked the mirrors, and it’s going to be an emotional day, one way or another.  But she didn’t cry.  She nodded along to the song for a moment while the car heated up.  She found herself smiling, tapping her hands against the steering wheel, singing along, embracing it, letting the pain and the joy sear through her; “and if a double decker bus, crashes into us, to die by your side, such a heavenly way to die…”

 

Okay, she thought then, finally pulling aggressively away from the kerb and driving off at a speed just slightly over the limit.  Okay, here we go.  Today is the day.  Today is the day you have waited so long for.  Let’s do it.