6

Lucy

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

            “Everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Anything,” Danny shrugged in reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

5

Danny

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Stick it under the door.”

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

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

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

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

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

            “Mr. Popular already eh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            Danny laughed.  “Bit like me!”

            “Oh yeah!”

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

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

            “Is her flat along Barrack road?”

            “Yep.”

            “Past the cemetery or before it?”

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

            “Yeah?  Why?”

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

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

            “Die you motherfucker?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Forget about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

4

Michael

 

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

            “Oh hey mate, do you remember me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Don’t be stupid.  No way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “No point thinking like that mate.”

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

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

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

            “You still listen to all this?”

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

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

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

            “Yeah?”

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

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

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

            “Does he?”

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

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

            “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Don’t know.  Never felt right.”

            “Anthony worries about you.”

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

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

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

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

            “Didn’t work out.”

            “Why?”

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

            “So how often to you see Zach?”

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

            “Doesn’t sound much.”

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

            “What?”

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

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

            “Anthony doesn’t think so.”

            “No?”

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

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

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

            “Because of your dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Well yeah.  That did blow me away.”

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

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

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

            “No pressure there then!” Danny laughed.

            “Hey?”

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

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

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

            “What are you worried about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “How do you know all that?”

            “Friends Reunited mate, on the internet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “And?”

            “I don’t know.”

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

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

            “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2

Michael

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

            “Hi Lucy. Good to see you.”

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

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

            “Anthony inside?” she asked him.

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

            “Why?”

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

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

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

            “Were you smoking?”

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

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

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

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

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

            “Where’s he been?  On holiday?”

            “Sort of.”

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

            “Can I come with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “It is isn’t it?”

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

            “Fuckinghell.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            Anthony nodded. “You been writing though yeah?”

            “Oh yeah. Every month.”

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

Danny

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “None of them were my fault!”

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

            “Fasten your seat belts people!”

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

            “Belfield Park.”

            “You’re joking?”

            “Nope.”

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

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

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

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

            “I’m warning you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

            “Definitely,” said Lucy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

            “No problem mate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Yeah.  They did. Back then.”

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

            “You do any courses inside?”

            “Yeah.  English.”

            “English?”

            “Yeah.  English.  I did a degree.”

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

            “Yeah, why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

            “How do you mean?”

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

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

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

            “Okay.”

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

            “Who?”

            “The fat man!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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