23

Anthony

 

            Danny walked in twenty minutes later.  Warmed and invigorated by two pints of beer, plus the cans he had already shared with Michael, Anthony felt like he had never been so glad to see anyone in his whole life.  Looking at Michael’s face was enough to convince him he felt the same.  He cheered and whooped and held up his pint glass as Danny sauntered on in.  They both watched him shrug off his coat, throw it down and search for his wallet.  He looked alive, Anthony thought then, his eyes were glowing.  “Where you been?” Michael asked instantly, and in his drunken haze Anthony felt so warmed by the tone of his voice, by the worry and the care in it.  It had always surprised and touched him, the friendship these two had.  Danny shook his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Let me get drinks first then I’ll tell you,” he said, heading to the bar.  “It will blow your minds.”

“See who’s at the bar mate!” Michael called out to him, and as Danny looked back at him frowning, Michael smiled and nodded at a large figure sat up on one of the bar stools.  Danny approached from behind slowly, wonderingly. Anthony grinned at Michael, who grinned back.

“Terry?”

The man shifted, moving around to reveal the huge gut that hung down, almost covering his knees, like an apron of t-shirt clad flesh. He was almost bald these days, and his full face wore a permanent sheen of sweat.  But he stuck his hand out at Danny, and the smile that filled his face made his old eyes shine with delight. “I’ve been hoping to run into you!” he exclaimed, and as Danny took his hand, the fat man pulled him in and clapped him on the back. “C’mere you little bastard!”

“Come and join us,” Anthony said then, getting up and gesturing for Terry to take his seat. He nodded at Danny. “I’ll get your drink mate. Sit down.”

“Terry,” Danny said again, still pumping hands with him as they both joined Michael at the table.  “Terry!”

“Yeah, that’s still my name, that’s still my name!”

Anthony ordered another round of drinks and joined them.  He laughed out loud at the look of wonder on Danny’s face. “How are you? Jesus Terry! It’s good to see you! They said you’ve still got a shop?”

“Down the road, that’s right,” Terry nodded at him. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You still think The Smiths are the best band in the world?” Danny was smiling uncontrollably, his top teeth biting down on his lower lip, pulling it in, as the smile stretched up to his ears.  Anthony sat back and watched, a warm rush of satisfaction filling him up, as he started a fresh beer.

“Nothing can touch them!” Terry barked back explosively. “I’m sorry, I said it then and I’ll say it now, as far as lyrical content, melody and fucking balls mate, nothing can touch them and never fucking will! What the hell are you into these days anyway?”

“I’ve been out of the loop,” Danny said with a sigh, still smiling. “I’m liking Neil Young, Bob Dylan, stuff like that. Need to find something new though, need to get back into it all. I miss it.  I miss your shop mate! Going through all the records, discovering stuff. Your shop was like a fucking treasure chest, wasn’t it?”

“Look I can’t stick around long mate,” Terry said then, and he quickly swallowed the last mouthfuls of beer in his glass. “Meeting the lads for a curry. But you come and stick your head round my door right? I might have a proposition for you. Work wise, I mean.”

Anthony watched Danny’s eyes grow even wider. “Really?” he breathed, and to Anthony then, he looked just like a fresh faced kid again.  And he remembered he had always looked like that where music was involved. Lost and amazed and happy.  He wanted to hug Terry then.  He had got up from the table, his large belly knocking into it as he rose, sloshing beer from the pints.

“I’m getting old, aren’t I?” he chuckled. “Can’t keep up with all the new stuff, for one thing. Still like me vinyl, and it’s all about keeping up with the times now, thanks to this bloody Internet thing. I can’t do the hours mate. They do me in, but the shop’s going downhill.” He slid his hands into his pockets and shook his head grimly. “Think I need some fresh young blood in, you know? Come and see me.  Come and stick your head round and we’ll have a cuppa and a chat, right?”

Danny stood up and shook hands with him again.  He patted him on the back, and his eyes were burning with joy. “I will Terry. I’ll come tomorrow.  I will. Thanks Terry. You’re a legend.”

Terry waved a podgy hand dismissively and started to stagger away. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Bloody unbelievable,” Danny announced, sitting back down.  He just stared at them both, shaking his head, grinning like an idiot. “He can’t be serious can he?”

“Sounded like a job offer to me mate,” Michael replied. “What a cool guy.”

“Yeah, he always was.”

“So come on, spill,” Anthony said then, sitting forward. “Where were you? What’s gonna’ blow our minds?”

Danny nodded and gratefully accepted a cigarette from Michael.  “Went to the old bastard’s grave again,” he told his friends. Anthony looked at him, stunned.  Michael’s jaw had dropped. “Guess who came along?”  Danny lit his cigarette, smiled at them and puffed smoke across the table.  “His old man,” he told them finally, and his smile stretched as far as it could go.  Anthony did not understand how he could smile at all.  To him, it seemed horrendous.  But here was Danny smiling, and his shoulders shaking.  “Had quite the chat,” he went on, as they stared at him. “It’s him all right.  The old fucker.  It’s him doing all this shit.”

“You all right?” Michael asked, and Anthony looked at him, saw how clouded his face was.  Danny shrugged and drank his beer.  Michael looked at Anthony. “Jesus Christ.”

“You’re okay though?” Anthony felt the need to persist.  There was that fatherly role again, he thought wearily, the role he just could not seem to shake off.

“What did he say?” asked Michael.

“Doesn’t really matter,” Danny said easily. “Just what we thought anyway.  He hates me.  He thinks the sun shone out of Lee’s fucking arse.  He wants revenge.  Whatever.”

“He admitted it?” Anthony asked.  Danny shook his head.

“Oh no.  No, he played the innocent alright.  But it’s him.  It has to be.  Ah I don’t even give a shit now that I’ve seen him!” Danny drank more beer, wiped his mouth and grinned recklessly at them.  “Fuck it!” he exclaimed loudly.  “I feel good!  I faced my demons!  I walked away all intact.  I don’t fucking care anymore.  He can do what he wants.  The police will catch up with him sooner or later, so fuck it.”  Danny picked his pint up again and drank hungrily.  Anthony drank his own, and felt the warning bells of drunkenness ringing carelessly. “And the fat man just offered me a job no less, so I’m feeling pretty good!”

“You’re a fucking legend,” Anthony told Danny then, pointing at him.  “You’re a brave man.  That little bastard.  I wish I’d seen him!”

“You think the cops will speak to him now?” Michael asked.  “And what about the other two?  Do you think it is just him?”

“Oh yeah that’s the other thing I was doing this morning,” Danny said, and took a large gulp of his beer before explaining more.  “That Haskell woman collared me again, outside Lucy’s.  Offered to buy me a drink, said she could help me, so I thought what the hell, and went with her.” Anthony and Michael swapped curious glances.  “She reckons she can get the addresses of the three main suspects.  She can do a bit of digging around, and all that.  So I made a deal with her.”

Anthony frowned suspiciously. “What kind of deal?”

“If she gets me the information I want, then I’ll give her a bloody interview,” Danny shrugged his shoulders at them both.

“Is that a good idea?” Michael asked. 

“Look I’m not even gonna’ think about that yet,” Danny replied quickly, shaking back his hair, his eyes darkening suddenly. Anthony could see then that he was on the edge.  He was in that state where your mood can come down on either side, and drinking alcohol would maybe help it decide.  “I’ll wait and see what she comes back with first.”

“I thought Lucy was digging?” Anthony remembered.

“Well she can if she wants, but I’d really rather she wasn’t involved, after last night.  You didn’t see the state she was in, guys.  She was shaking like a leaf by the time I got there.”

“Still can’t believe the bastard phoned her up,” Anthony gritted his teeth, angering just at the thought of it.  “And this leads us to question, how exactly is this old man getting around us all so easily?  Spying on Lucy and cutting her power?  Phoning her up?  I wouldn’t fucking know how to do all that!”

“He must have help,” Michael nodded at them both, drank his pint and looked troubled.  “It can’t just be him on his own, that would be impossible.  He’s an old man!”

“He’s pretty fit for an old fellow,” Danny was near the end of his pint already, and Anthony saw him look quickly towards the bar.  “He’s got a stick, but he’s not fragile, you know?  Built like a brick shithouse, just like his shitting arsehole son.”

“Well hopefully he’ll be getting a visit from the police any time soon,” Anthony commented, as Danny drained the last of his beer and got back up, wallet in hand.  Anthony had never seen anyone drink a pint so fast.  “Bloodyhell mate, you might want to slow down!”

“Fuck it,” Danny laughed, waving the wallet at him. “Let’s have these on him, the old dead fucker eh?  Let’s have the next round on Lee fucking Howard!”  He looked at them triumphantly and then stalked up to the bar.  Anthony turned to his brother, and grimaced.

“Oh Christ, he’s gonna’ get slaughtered.”

“Let him,” Michael shrugged. “He probably needs to.”

Anthony groaned, and resting one elbow on the table, he ploughed one hand back through his hair.  “I’m pretty drunk already Mikey.”

“Me too, so what?  It’ll be fun.  Like old times.”

“Old times were not always that fun little brother.”

“Yeah they were.  In a weird way, they were,” Michael smiled at him gently then. “Even when we were shit scared.  We had fun in our own way, didn’t we?  Us and Danny.  We stuck together.”

“Yeah,” Anthony sighed and nodded. “What do you think about that Haskell woman?  I can’t remember if she was on his side or not, you know years back?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Michael. “Don’t worry about it.  He knows what he’s doing.”

“I know, I know,” Anthony laughed and rolled his eyes at himself. “I’ve got to stop being the dad, or whatever! Stop being a boring old man.”

“Old habits die hard,” Michael grinned at him.  “Forget about it.”

Danny returned with three more pints, plonked them down and then went over to the jukebox.  “The whole of ‘Definitely Maybe’,” he announced striding quickly back and sitting down.  “Haven’t heard it in ages.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows and glanced worriedly back at Michael. “You’re feeling like a trip down memory lane mate?” he asked Danny. Danny shrugged in reply, drinking his second beer.  “Just be careful with that.  That and alcohol.”

“Like I said, fuck it,” Danny told him and Anthony sighed, thinking it was becoming obvious which side he was coming down on.  He glanced at his watch and saw that it was not even lunch time yet.  And then he thought to himself fuck it too, fuck it all, let him, let him get it out his system, let him get wankered, whatever, don’t worry about it.  He remembered his empty house, his wife and kids gone, and sunk the last of his pint, before picking up the next one.  “You know what we’re gonna’ do?” Danny was asking, leaning towards them both, his blue eyes flashing. “We’re gonna’ get fucking paralytic, we’re gonna’ spend that arsehole’s money, feel like shit tomorrow, and what does it even matter?  Who’s gonna’ care?”

“That sounds depressing Dan,” Anthony smiled gently, thinking again of his eerily empty house.

“I mean, let’s make the most of it,” Danny explained. “Let’s go wild.  It’s just us three, yeah? We used to have some wild times, didn’t we?”  Michael and Anthony nodded, and Michael lifted his second pint suddenly and clinked it against the others.

“Cheers to that!” he cried. “That’s what I’ve been saying for ages!”

“Then,” Danny continued, still leaning across the table, pint firmly in hand. “We’ll wait and hear from this Haskell woman, see how good she really is. We’ll have all three addresses, and wherever the fuck they live, we’ll pay them all a visit, yeah?”

“What about the police?” Anthony asked immediately, concern again becoming his overriding emotion. “They won’t want you doing that.”

“I’ll give them a chance,” Danny shrugged carelessly. “But if this shit carries on, what choice do I have?  We’ll go see them all.  Show them we’re not kids anymore.  Show them we’re not taking any shit of anyone, yeah?”

“We’ll be right behind you mate,” Michael was nodding, and clapped Danny sombrely on the shoulder.  Danny looked to Anthony, awaiting the same confirmation.  Anthony scratched his head.

“I’ll come with you, don’t get me wrong, you know that.  You know I will.  But think about it a minute mate, do you really want to see Freeman?  I mean, the old man is one thing, this Dennis character we know nothing about, but Freeman?” Anthony felt his mouth become dry at just the thought of it.  He watched as Danny pulled back from the table, dropping one hand into his lap, and caressing his pint with the other.  He glanced away, not answering for a moment, and then he looked back and smiled sadly at Michael.

“You know what this album reminds me of most?”

“What?” Michael asked him.

“Me and you at Freeman’s flat.  Think that was when I got it, around that time.  You remember the night me and you took speed for the first time?”

Michael nodded, glancing sheepishly at Anthony. “I remember mate.  We must have been fifteen?”

“Yeah.  We mostly had the place to ourselves, didn’t we?  So it was pretty cool.  Just you and me and this album on all the time.”

Michael nodded and his eyes met with Anthony’s again. “Yeah Danny, it was all right for a while.”

“Remember you getting pissed off with me though?” Danny laughed then, but Anthony didn’t like the sound of it at all, and had to look away and drink more beer.  It wasn’t a happy laugh, he thought, it was a hollow, bitter laugh, tinged with despair, and he thought again, is this a good idea, getting plastered? “You couldn’t understand why I was always around there.  It was nice though.” He nodded, staring intently at the table.  “He was nice to me.”

Anthony looked at Michael and shook his head.  “Danny?” he started.  Danny looked up, smiling brightly, but his eyes were far away.

“I know that sounds stupid,” he said. “But it was nice, you know, until what you found out.” He looked at Anthony almost apologetically then.  “Until you told us what he’d done.  What he was.  It was nice going there before that.”

“To get away from Howard, yeah?” Anthony asked softly.  “That’s what you mean.”

“Yeah!” Danny replied enthusiastically, as if he was desperate for them to understand.  “That’s what I mean!  Because he was like all chilled and lazy and shit, and he didn’t care if you messed the place up, or put your feet on the table, or spilled your drink, you know?  It was a nice change in a weird way.  Like, relaxing?  Just getting totally stoned or whatever. I guess I went there because I thought he was being nice to me, when really he wasn’t.”  Danny sighed and shrugged and lifted his pint to his lips.  Anthony noted that he was nearing the end of the second one. 

“So,” Michael started slowly, unsurely, his dark eyes flicking restlessly between Danny and Anthony.  “You think you’ll be all right seeing him again?  If it comes to it?  What the fuck would you say?”

“I don’t know,” Danny shook his head at him.  “The thought of it makes me feel sick if you want to know the truth, but maybe in a weird way, it will be like another bit of closure, you know?” he frowned at them both, and again Anthony got the feeling he was simply desperate to convey what he meant to them, for them to understand. “I mean, like that just seeing Howard’s old man, that was fucking insane, but the first time we ran into him, I was just shit scared and shocked and stuff, and I felt like a kid again, but this time was different.  I had the chance to calm down and figure things out, and I walked away feeling pretty good.  It was a bit like getting the last word, you know? “ He sighed again, rolled his eyes and laughed a little.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know what I mean.”

“I get what you mean,” Michael said quickly, nodding.  “You could get some answers out of Freeman, you know.  After that fight at your house, when you stabbed him, you never fucking saw him again, did you?”

“No,” Danny agreed. “I just had fucking Howard taunting me about what he did or didn’t do….”

“You’ve just got to be careful Danny,” Anthony spoke up then, and he realised he had been telling the guy that for years now.  “Just take it slowly. Let’s have a good time today, like you said, and then lets’ sit and see what the police can do.  I think seeing someone like Freeman could seriously mess with your head if you’re not careful, and open up a can of worms.  I know you reckon seeing the old man just now has done you good, but that’s a kneejerk reaction, yeah?  You might feel differently when it all sinks in.” Anthony felt the two of them staring at him, challenging him somewhat, and again it was an old, familiar feeling.  But he knew when it came down to it, they would both listen to him.  So he nodded firmly at Danny.  “I don’t want you going down that road unless you have to mate.  That’s all.”

Danny smiled at him finally.  “Okay,” he said.  “I’ll be careful.”

“He’ll just be another washed up old man by now anyway,” Michael said then, his tone brightening.  “If he’s even still fucking alive!”

They all laughed at this, and Anthony felt the tension easing slightly.  He hoped against hope that they would not have to visit Jack Freeman, wherever he might be these days.  He hoped that the police would have it all in hand by now, that they would be taking things far more seriously after Lucy’s power was cut.  Anthony got up from the table then, “need a piss,” he muttered and headed for the men’s room.  He heard Michael and Danny laughing amongst each other as he left, and he thought good, that’s better, we should be having a laugh, and he sighed to himself in relief. 

He looked at his phone while he was in the toilet.  He had sent Chrissie a message earlier, asking when they could get together and talk.  He saw now that she had replied and he had not heard it come through.  Tomorrow morning – kids at school, I’ll come to the house.  That was it.  Anthony didn’t know quite how to take it. It was good that she was going to come and talk, but he found the message rather curt and businesslike.  Inside his heart seemed to drop, his stomach took a nosedive, and he wondered again how miserably close he was to losing them all.  A wild panic thundered through him every time he thought about them not coming back.  He would be a weekend dad, like Mike was.  She might meet other men…Oh it didn’t bear thinking about.  He went through his head what he would say to her in the morning.  He guessed he was going to have to lie to her about still helping Danny, lie to her, or tell her the truth and risk that being the end of it all. Great, thanks, love you babe he sent back to her, and came back out from the toilet.

He saw right away that something was wrong. It was not just the three burly men who seemed to have surrounded their table, blocking his view of both Danny and Michael, but it was the tense silence which had filled the pub.  It was not very full, at that time in the morning, but there had been enough conversation and laughter going on for them to disappear amongst.  But everyone had now fallen silent, and all eyes seemed to be on their table.   Anthony approached slowly from behind.  “All right there guys?” he asked, and one of the men, a shaven headed man in his late forties turned abruptly to glare at him.  Anthony quickly sized up the other two.  The shaven headed guy was the biggest, and had a good few inches on Anthony, but the other two were not exactly small, and made Danny and Michael look like weedy teenagers.  One wore a navy blue baseball cap and had no front teeth.  The third man looked like the youngest, late twenties or there abouts, and had greasy black hair pushed back behind his ears and a large hooked nose.  Anthony tried to remember if they were regulars, but he didn’t think he recognised any of them.

He looked at Danny and Michael, who were eyeing the men cautiously from their seats.  Danny cleared his throat.  “These fella’s want to know which one of us is the scumbag who killed their old pal Lee Howard,” he said, his voice slightly strangled, and his eyes dark with warning.  Anthony felt his heart skip, and thought uselessly oh fuck. The guy with the shaven head turned his thick body towards Anthony and jabbed a finger at him.

“You is it?”

“No, that would be me,” Danny spoke up quickly, and all eyes fell on him.  Anthony saw him shrug his shoulders and raise his eyebrows in response as he took them all in.  “The scumbag who killed Lee Howard, I mean.  That would be me.” He smiled at them, and that was when all hell broke loose.  The shaven headed guy nodded quickly, stepped forward and reached for Danny, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and hauling him up.  Anthony dived in instantly, as did Michael, both of them going for the bald guy. “What the fuck?” he yelled, grabbing the guys arm and yanking it back just as he aimed his fist at Danny’s face. 

Anthony felt his feet fly out from under him then, as he was blindsided by the guy in the cap.  He hit the floor, as the whole pub seemed to explode into violence and shouting and bellowing all around them.  He felt chunky fists slamming into his stomach, got his knee up and rammed it into the guys face.  He was on his feet, and saw that Michael was wrestling with the greasy haired fellow, while Danny was doubled over, as the shaven haired guy had just delivered a knee into his belly. Anthony did the first thing that came into his mind.  He picked up the nearest stool and slammed it down over the back of the mans head.  He saw blood erupt almost instantly, and the man dropped Danny and covered the back of his head with both hands, swearing in pain.  Danny straightened up, grabbed the stool from the floor and quickly swung it into the guys’ middle. 

“Come on then, you bunch of fuckers,” Anthony snarled then, as the man in the cap came back at him, fists held up.  “You want some more!”

“Take it outside!  Take it outside!” Tony was yelling from behind the bar.  “I’ve called the cops!”

The baseball cap guy looked briefly his way, and Anthony seized the opportunity to smack him in the nose.  As he stooped down spluttering blood, he struck him again, as hard as he could right in one eye.  “Anthony look out!” Michael cried from across the table, where he was still grappling violently with the greasy haired man.  Anthony did not have time to look out.  He only felt the incredible thump of the bottom of a pint glass striking the top of his head, and then he went down. 

He blinked himself awake just moments later, struggling to regain consciousness, and felt a flurry of kicks make contact with his ribs as he lay on the floor, and then suddenly it was all over, the feet were running, thumping past him, and doors were slamming and swinging, and Tony finally ran around the bar and kneeled down beside him.  Moments later two uniformed police officers appeared.  Anthony closed his eyes, shook his head and just groaned.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

24

Michael

 

           

“It’s all kicking off all right,” Michael chuckled into his phone, from the sofa where he was sprawled out, with one arm slung around his ribs.  He was on the phone to Billy, who had just called him to report a mysterious silent phone call he had received on his land line the day before.  “We’ve just spent most the fucking day down at a and e and the rest of the night down the cop shop.”

“Who the hell were they?” Billy wanted to know.  Michael looked across at Danny, who was laid out on the other sofa with Kurt asleep on his chest, and a cigarette in hand. 

“Minions sent by old man Howard,” Michael told him casually. “Or so we assume, right Dan?” Danny nodded in reply silently.

“You all okay?”

“Well Anthony’s gone to try and make amends with his missis with a fuck off great bandage around his head,” Michael laughed again, just picturing it.  “I can only imagine how well that’s gonna’ go down!  And Danny’s sat here with ten fucking stitches in his forehead.  One of the cunts put a glass in his face too.  Seriously Billy, we’re lucky we didn’t lose any eyes!”

“Sounds horrendous,” Billy replied, his voice tense.  “This is getting seriously scary guys.  What time was all this?”

“About lunch time I think.”

“That’s when I got the silent call.”

“Really?  Well that’s interesting. Right Billy boy, we’ll let you off the fucking hook right?  Just stay away from us until this is all sorted out.”

Michael heard his old friend sigh in relief.  “How are you going to sort it out?” he asked him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael said, getting bored now. “Just keep out of it and they should leave you alone.”  He said goodbye and hung up and shook his head in disgust at Danny. “Bloody pansy he is.”

“He can’t help it,” Danny replied.  “I don’t blame him.  Mike, whenever we get these addresses, I don’t want Anthony to come.”

Michael frowned, not understanding. “What the hell do you mean?  He has to come! We’ll get killed without him!”

Danny shook his head firmly.  “I’m not going to be responsible for wrecking his life Mike.  He’s already in enough shit with his wife.  Me and you go.  And we don’t tell him.  In fact, we don’t tell him anything anymore, okay?”

Michael sat up and sat forward.  His bruised ribs groaned in complaint and he winced.  “Danny, don’t be stupid mate.  We need him.  We can’t do this without him.”

“Yes, we can, course we can,” Danny said quickly.  “We have to Mike.  Look, other people keep getting hurt, and it’s not fair.  How will you feel if Jenny and Zach get a brick through their window, or their power cut off?”  He was staring angrily back at Michael, daring him to disagree. “How will you feel if those heavies pay them a visit next?  Mike, this is getting worse.  Those guys were from Essex, from Lee’s old days.  They were his mates from his dad’s gym. So we know why they were called here, and we know they can do it again.  Any fucking time.”

Michael stared at him silently.  He did not know what to say.  Danny was right.  This thing was getting worse by the day.  The police had no leads on the men who had attacked them.  They had seemingly ran out into the streets and vanished  into thin air.  The police reported that they had located Jerry Howard, although they refused to pass on his whereabouts, and they concluded that they had no evidence to charge him with anything as of yet.  They were sitting ducks basically, or at least that was how it felt. 

Danny leaned out from the sofa to tap his cigarette into the ashtray on the small table.  He looked at Michael, waiting for him to agree.  “I mean it Mike,” he said then. “Just keep it all low key now okay?  Whatever happens to us, we don’t tell Anthony.”

“I don’t like lying to him,” Michael said uselessly.

“It’s for his own good,” Danny argued.  “Look at the fucking state of him Mike! His window is smashed, that could have hurt his kids, so his wife walks out with them, and then he’s fucking knocked unconscious in the pub!  He had a nice life, a decent life, and now it’s all in ruins.  I mean it Mike.” Danny looked at him nodding seriously. “We need to keep him out of it.  You too if you want.  You’ve got Zach to think of.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid!” Michael argued again, snatching his own cigarettes from the table and lighting one up.  “You’re not going to see those arseholes on your own.  You can forget that!”

“Why not?” Danny shrugged, and Michael just stared at him, wide eyed in disbelief.  “What can they do that hasn’t already been done Mike?  Think about it.  They’re three old men now.  I’m a big boy.  I need to get their attention just on me, not on you lot.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Michael shook his head in dismay. “And I’m not letting you do any of it on your own.  I don’t care what you say.”

“Even if it puts your son in danger?”

Michael opened his mouth.  Nothing came out.  He closed it again, and looked down at the grubby carpet beneath his feet. “Nothing has come their way yet,” he said, his voice small.

“Yet,” Danny said.

“Well if it does…”Michael trailed off.  “Look,” he said then, shaking his head and pushing it all aside.  “Look, we’ll worry about that if it happens.  You need to call that Haskell woman.  She should have something by now surely.”

Danny nodded.  “Lucy is coming over later.  Don’t mention that woman in front of her.  I’m gonna’ tell Lucy to stop looking too.  I don’t want her or Anthony involved in any way from now on.”

“She’s not gonna’ like that Dan.”

“She’s gonna’ have to.  Yesterday changed everything.  One minute I’m in the fucking graveyard having it out with the old man, the next minute he’s managed to set three fucking gorillas on us out of nowhere.  I don’t know how the fuck he’s doing it, or what he might do next.”

“What about your mum?  Heard anything from her?”

“Nothing,” Danny shook his head.  “I’m keeping my distance.  I’m going to keep my distance from everyone.”

Michael had to get up then.  He just couldn’t stand it.  He paced around the room, puffing on his cigarette in frustration.  “Yeah, but this is just what they fucking want, isn’t it?” He nodded to himself, feeling vicious stabs of anger course through him. “Can’t you see that mate?  It’s just like back then.  You, all alone.  The way Howard got rid of Anthony.  The way he and Freeman kept you doped up all the time, so you didn’t go to school, you didn’t mix with your mates.  This is the same! He’s doing it on fucking purpose!  Trying to scare off all the people who care about you.  I can’t stand it.  I’m about ready to fucking burst, I tell you.  They’re not scaring me off.  I don’t give a shit.  I’m coming with you.” He stopped next to the sofa and stared down at Danny’s upturned face.  “Whenever you get those fucking addresses, I am coming with you.  I want to hurt them Dan. I want the chance to settle a few old scores.  I would like to see them hurt and scared and alone!”

Danny stubbed out his cigarette and folded his arms behind his head.  Michael just shook his head again.  He had no idea how his friend could appear so calm and controlled, when he felt like smashing something up, anything.  He felt like they were rats in a trap, waiting to be extinguished.  He felt like they were just hanging around, killing time until the next shot was taken.  “We need to fight back!” he exclaimed passionately.  Danny just smiled and closed his eyes.

“We’ll get our chance,” he said softly. “Just need to be patient Mike.”

Michael found himself stood at the window, smoking.  He breathed in and out slowly, willing himself to calm down.  He stared down at the busy high street, watching the market traders directly below, as they bellowed out, advertising their goods.  He wondered again, if they were being watched, and by who, and from where?  He ran his eyes along the opposite row of shops, and the flats above them.  Some were occupied, some were empty.  He narrowed his eyes, wondering.

“You ever see your parents anymore Mike?” Danny asked suddenly from behind him.  Michael was surprised by the question.

“No,” he said. “Not my old man anyway.”

“You see your mum?”  Danny sat up a bit on the sofa, staring over the back of it at Michael.

“Just at Christmas,” he shrugged.  “She lives with my Aunt Tina now.  They’re both alone so they moved in together.”

“You see her at Christmas?  How does that go?”

“It’s okay,” Michael shrugged again. “She’s not so bad these days.  She was always better without my dad anyway.  She still likes a drink you know.  But so do I.” He grinned slightly. “I stay with them at Christmas.  Never liked getting in the way, you know, with Anthony and Chrissie.  So I go to them.  We just get hammered the whole time.  It’s okay.”

“She was a tough woman back in the day,” Danny remembered, with a slight grin.  “She was always screaming and shouting.”

“She had her reasons,” Michael nodded. “My dad treated her like shit.  When he wasn’t around, she’d get pissed and have a good time, because she could do what she wanted.  Then when he was around, she’d get pissed and have a bad time, because he’d just fucking beat her all the time.”

“I don’t really remember any of that.” Danny was staring at him intently, as if casting his mind back to a long gone time. 

“Well he was hardly there by then,” Michael said.  “By the time you moved there.  He was in and out again, wasn’t he?  Then she’d bugger off whenever she could.  I used to be glad.  Got some bloody peace when I was on my own.”

“Anthony once told me that he was rough on you as kids.  That he laid him out once, knocked him to the floor.  Then he never tried it again.  Was that true?”

Michael glanced back out at the street, thinking. “I do remember that,” he nodded finally. “Anthony was about sixteen I think.  I would have been, what? Eleven I suppose.  He used to get us with the slipper, that’s what I remember the most.  But like I said, he was always gone for a long time.  In and out.  Like that.”

“You were lucky you had Anthony,” Danny mused, and Michael nodded immediately.

“Oh yeah.  I know.  He took the brunt of it, without a doubt.  But that’s the worse he ever did you know?  Get you across his lap with the slipper. Or a good old clip behind the ear.”

“Mike?”

“Mm, what?”

“Doesn’t it scare you being a dad?  You know, when you have to discipline Zach?”

Michael came away from the window.  He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.  “I knew that was what was bothering you,” he said, “when I had Zach here.”

“Eh?”

“You know, all that about you not wanting kids ever.”

“I don’t want kids,” said Danny, grinning at him.

“Why?  Because you think you’d do to them what Howard did to you? Come on mate you can’t think like that.” He sat back down, easing his sore ribs slowly onto the other sofa.  “And in answer to your question, no.  It doesn’t scare me.  Me and Jenny don’t smack Zach, we never have.  We just tell him off or whatever.” He shrugged his shoulders at Danny’s enquiring expression.  “Seems to have worked fine.  He’s a good boy.”

“He is,” Danny agreed. “I was just thinking out loud, you know.”

“And I’ve never hit a woman in my life,” Michael added then. “And neither has Anthony.” He shrugged at Danny. “So see?  You don’t always copy the way you were brought up.”

“Howard did,” Danny said then.  Michael looked at him.  He felt like he could read Danny like a book, and now was no exception.  He was thinking about the old man.  He was thinking about what a monster Howard was.  How the things he did were in a totally different league to the things Michael and Anthony’s dad had done.  He could see the thoughts going through his mind, and he could understand it.  He had thought about it enough himself.  How does someone get to be that evil and twisted?  Are they, on some level, just born that way?  Or is it their own childhood, their own experiences that shapes them? 

“You don’t know everything,” Michael tried to remind him.  “You don’t know how he was treated.  You’ll drive yourself crazy trying to figure it out mate, so why bother?”

“He always said I had it easy,” Danny went on however, gazing down at Kurt as he stroked him slowly on his lap.  “Like I ought to be grateful.  He’d say it.  He’d say his old man was worse.  So he must have been?  But Lee loved his dad.  He looked up to him.  He thought that was the best way, and the right way, you know?  He couldn’t understand people letting their kids run wild.  He thought his way was the only way to do it.”

“Yeah and he fucking enjoyed it too don’t forget?  Maybe it made him feel better.” Michael shrugged and pulled his feet up onto the sofa, wrapping his arms carefully back around his bruised up middle.  “Maybe he turned into such a monster because he needed to feel big and powerful.  You’ve really got good old Jerry Howard to blame for everything, haven’t you?”  Michael shook his head in disgust.  “Fucking old bastard.”

“And yet he denied it all,” Danny said, shrugging as he frowned. “In his eyes,  Lee never did anything to me.  He tried to give me a decent life and I paid him back by getting high on coke and killing him.  That’s how he sees it.  That’s what he said, anyway.”

“He really said that?” Michael was incredulous. “He really thinks his son treated you well?”

“Yep,” Danny nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Ten years was not enough, apparently.  I should have got life.”

“It’s so him!” Michael raged from the sofa, snarling. “It’s so him doing all this!  I can’t wait to see that old fucker, I really can’t.  That is un-fucking-believable!”

“I know,” Danny nodded. “We’ll have a good chat.  My words with him yesterday obviously had no effect.”

“You won’t ever get through to someone like that,” Michael said, and he knew that he was right.  “Not ever.  Best we can hope for is we can scare him, or fight him off somehow.  I don’t even know mate.  If he can summon up heavies like that, less than an hour after seeing you?  God I don’t know.  I thought things were scary enough back when we were kids, when Anthony got set up, but this is something else.  I feel scared mate, I’m not ashamed to admit it.  I want to fight back, but it fucking scares me, all of this.”

Danny yawned from the other sofa.  “Me too.  I should have asked what the fuck he wanted.  What does he want from me?  What can I do?  I can’t make his son come back can I?”

“You wouldn’t if you fucking could!” Michael laughed. Just then Danny’s phone went off, vibrating and buzzing angrily within his clothes.  Michael watched in amusement as he searched for it, swatting one pocket and then the other, until he finally located it under his backside.  Danny looked at the call and immediately glanced up at Michael.

“Haskell,” he said, and put it to his ear.  “Hi Caroline.”

Michael waited, feeling his impatience grow, as Danny listened quietly to whatever the reporter had to say.  He finally nodded. “Okay thanks.  I will do.  I’ll have to get back to you later.  Seeing my girlfriend in a bit.  Okay. Bye.” He hung up and looked expectantly at Michael.  “She has three addresses,” he said, and Michael felt his jaw drop. He was astounded.

“She was bloody quick! All three?”

“Yep, all three. She wouldn’t give them to me over the phone though.  She wants to meet with me again.”

“Oh of course,” Michael groaned. “Course she does. She wants her pound of flesh, don’t forget?  She won’t let you have them until you’ve done your bloody interview.”

“We’ll see.” 

“Just be careful,” Michael found himself warning him.  Danny just nodded and fell silent, deep in thought again.  Michael blew his breath out through his teeth and wondered where all of this was going to lead.

20

Michael

 

 

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

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

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

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

“We’ll see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” Anthony nodded. “About time.”

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s like you said, Jenny does!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21

Lucy

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22

Danny

 

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The one near your flat?”

“Of course.  Where are you?”

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

17

Anthony

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chrissie…”

“You lied to me.”

“I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were very sneaky, Anthony.”

“How was I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to imagine I am him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18

Lucy

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

“Who called?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who, Howard’s dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Obviously not,” Danny shrugged.

“What are you going to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

16

Danny

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Fuckinghell!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about your mum?”

“Hey?”

“Text her.  See if she has one.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nosy bitch,” Danny growled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Course I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Silly?  Like what?”

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Chrissie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God!”

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

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

“Has she called the cops?” Michael called.

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

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

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

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