Blood Tracks Page 8

  He disguised a grimace as he spooned in a mouthful of charred food.

  “It’s delicious, Mrs. Mac, but I’m not very hungry,” he said, getting up from the table. “I hope you won’t be offended, but I’ve given Mr. O’Rourke’s job offer some thought and decided it probably isn’t for me. But thanks anyway.” He bent down and kissed the old lady’s cheek.

  Mrs. McManus rolled her cloudy eyes. “Think on, Declan. You shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  Declan went up to his bedroom and lay on the plump eiderdown. He looked up at the wallpaper that covered every inch of the room. The old lady’s taste in décor didn’t complement his own. Her penchant for floral wallpaper and matching curtains left him feeling claustrophobic. Her obsession with putting lavender-scented liners in all his drawers left him smelling less than manly. But he’d managed to introduce a hint of testosterone into the flowery flurry, cluttering the top of the chest of drawers with his male grooming products and stockpiling football magazines on the bookcase next to Mrs. Mac’s Mills & Boons.

  Life as Mrs. Mac’s lodger wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d asked to stay in England, but it was the compromise he’d had to make. Mrs. Mac wasn’t the most liberal of landladies. She wouldn’t let him have a TV in his room; she would never be sure what he was watching! So, if he wanted to watch television, he had to go in the sitting room, where she’d often join him, especially for the gruesome cop shows that absolutely thrilled her. The problem was she could never follow the plot and so asked Declan a constant stream of questions, making him miss all the important bits. And, when she was in the room, she never relinquished control of the remote. At the first glimpse of naked flesh, she could change channels faster than Billy the Kid could draw his gun. She’d suck in her teeth, protesting, “Now, there’s no need for that kind of thing, is there?” Declan found it hard to agree.

  As he lay on the bed he thought about the events of the day and his stomach churned. He didn’t have long to make up his mind; the offer was only open until midnight and then his fate would be sealed. He chewed his lip, weighing it up. If he didn’t, then this man could ruin his life, his parents would be devastated and the truth was, he was scared, really scared. What option did he have? He’d be a fool not to make that call. He didn’t want to, but if he didn’t, the alternative was much worse, wasn’t it?

  Declan took the card out of the back pocket of his jeans and flipped it back and forth between his fingers before phoning the number. When the voice answered he didn’t bother with any pleasantries.

  “This is Declan Doyle,” he said coldly. “I’ll do it.”

  Gina sat in stony silence as they drove home.

  “You should give Dr. Havers another chance,” her mum said. “She seems really nice. I think she could help us.”

  “No way!”

  “But what she said made a lot of sense. She has years of experience in these things.”

  “I’m not seeing her again,” Gina said, staring ahead. “And you shouldn’t have made me go there in the first place. I’m not mad, you know.”

  “No one thinks you’re mad, Gina. You just need a bit of help to get through this.”

  “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me,” Gina said, tugging at her cropped hair like she was attempting to make it longer.

  “Do you think that your dad would want you to be like this? Cutting yourself off from people, all those silly thoughts whirling round your head. No! Your dad would want you to get on with your life, get out running again, go out with your friends. That’s what he would want. Don’t let him down, Gina.” Her mum’s voice trembled.

  Gina didn’t answer. She turned her sorrowful eyes away from her mother. She felt so alone.

  When they reached the house, Danny was waiting excitedly at the front door. He ushered them in.

  “We’ve got a visitor!” He smiled. “You’ll never guess who it is.”

  Before they had time to answer, Tom jumped out from behind the living-room door. “Tada!” he said, his arms open wide.

  “Tom!” her mum shrieked. She rushed towards him and Tom wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the floor. Gina shrank into the background. Her heart was pounding.

  “God, Clare, you don’t know how wonderful it is to see you.” He held her at arm’s length, inspecting her. “You’re looking great!”

  “Give over.” She blushed. “I’m twice the size since you saw me last.”

  “You always needed more meat on your bones.” He grinned, his teeth dazzling white against his deeply tanned skin.

  Gina’s mum rolled her eyes, tutting. “So the wanderer returns and not one postcard in six months.”

  “Sorry.” He looked remorseful. “Were you worried about me?”

  “No,” she replied dismissively. “I knew you’d be having too much of a good time to even give us a thought.”

  “I just really needed to get away from it all. Have a complete break from normal life. I mean, the places I got to see were mind-blowing: Vietnam, Cambodia… I even spent some time with Tibetan monks in India – it was amazing.”

  “Gina, come and see Tom,” her mum ordered.

  Gina stepped forward, glaring at him. “So, did you ‘find yourself’ then?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Gina!” His eyes widened. “That’s a radical haircut.”

  “Yeah, she had a fight with a pair of scissors and lost,” Danny chuckled.

  Gina walked past Tom and over to the shelf which displayed their trinkets and trophies. In the middle of the shelf sat the shiny grey urn. She cupped her hands around it and stood for a moment in silence.

  Tom shot her mum an unnerved look. Her mum shook her head to warn him not to comment on it.

  This ritual had been going on ever since her dad’s ashes had been collected from the undertaker’s. As soon as her mum had brought them into the house, Gina had taken the urn from her, marched into the living room and placed it prominently on the shelf. Her decision had gone unchallenged; her mum didn’t want to upset her, so there they’d remained, the presence of this small vessel overwhelming the room. Now, every time Gina entered the room she’d make a beeline to touch the urn, even when she thought no one was around. Her mum was concerned, but decided to ignore Gina’s behaviour, hoping that it might be comforting to her in some way.

  “Are those presents for us?” Danny said. He pointed to a pile of packages on the sofa.

  “Danny, don’t be so rude,” Mum laughed.

  Tom wrestled Danny into a headlock and ruffled his hair. “Yeah, Danny, you won’t be getting anything until I’ve heard you’ve been looking after your mum and sister while I’ve been away,” he teased.

  Danny laughed, wriggling out of the hold, grabbing Tom’s wrist to give it a Chinese burn, but then he let Tom’s hand drop in shock.

  “What happened to your fingers?” Danny asked.

  “Oh, these things,” Tom replied blithely, wiggling the two stumpy fingers on his left hand. “They’re a souvenir from my travels. It’s not too bad. I only lost them down to the first knuckle. I wish I could tell you it happened doing something heroic, but I’m afraid it was just a jet-ski accident in Australia. I was lucky it was just the two. If I’d fallen any closer to the propeller it would have cut through my whole hand.”

  “Oh you poor thing,” Gina’s mum said, wincing. “You’re safer staying at home.”

  “Well, that’s where I’m going to be from now on,” Tom announced.

  “Not this home,” Gina hissed under her breath.

  “Great! Are you back for good?” Danny beamed.

  “Yep! I’ve well and truly got my wanderlust out of my system. You won’t believe it, but you can get bored of paradise. I started longing for grey skies and a decent cup of tea and, of course, the people I’d left behind.”

  Gina bristled as she noted how Tom’s sky-blue eyes fell on her mum.

  She was trapped in the car, panicking and helpless as she kept trying to silence
the white noise that hissed out from the radio; the rain hammered like fists at the windows; the phone beeped in her pocket, sending an electric shock surging through her body. She caught a glimpse of her dad, walking away from her. She banged furiously on the windows; she kicked at the door with her bare feet but was unable to get out and stop him. She watched him disappear into the darkness. Then the squeal of the train brakes came, so piercing that blood started to trickle from her ears.

  “Dad!” Gina’s scream shattered the silence of the house. She sat bolt upright in bed, her pyjamas clinging to her body with cold sweat.

  Half asleep, Mum rushed to her bedside. Gina clung to her.

  “Gina, it’s okay. You were having a nightmare.”

  Gina buried her clammy face in her mum’s nightdress. “It was horrible. It was me and Dad on that night.”

  “Shush now, don’t think about it.”

  “Mum, can I stay off school today? It’s Dad’s birthday. I just want to be at home.”

  Her mum nodded. “Okay. I’ll ask Danny if he wants to stay at home as well. Maybe we could do something nice together; go to the water park or bowling, like we used to do with Dad.”

  “As long as Tom doesn’t come,” she said. “He’s been calling round every day since he got back. I don’t want him here.”

  “All right, I’ll ask him not to come over today but please be nice to your Uncle Tom. He’s been a real support to us.”

  “He knows things,” Gina whispered.

  Her mum looked at her anxiously. “Listen, Gina, Dr. Havers has been phoning. She’s really looking forward to seeing you again. She said that she’d fit you in anytime. Isn’t that good of her? I’m convinced that you’ll start feeling better once you get talking to her. So what do you say? Can I make you another appointment for tomorrow?”

  “No! Leave me alone,” Gina said, putting the duvet over her head.

  She heard her mum sigh and walk out of the room.

  Gina turned on the bedside light and looked over at the wall of photographs. “Mum thinks I’m mad, you know, Dad,” she whispered. “Your wife, my mum, doesn’t believe me! What’s she planning next? Is she going to have me sectioned and locked up?” Gina looked at her alarm clock. It was three twenty a.m. “By the way, Dad – happy birthday,” she said sweetly.

  Their plans to go out for the day came to nothing. Gina and Danny decided that they didn’t want to go anywhere; instead they spent the morning in bouts of silence as if they were inside a church. Gina wandered into the living room and saw Danny lifting the hood of his fish tank. She cupped her hands around the urn and watched her brother sprinkling the flakes of fish food onto the water.

  “The tank’s looking great. You’ve done really well with it, Danny,” Gina said, crouching down to see the rush of fish swimming to the surface, their big mouths open, ready to devour the food.

  “Yeah, can you believe that they’re all still alive?” he said proudly.

  “No,” she smiled.

  “And Gina’s doing well,” he said mischievously, pointing to the ugly suckerfish scavenging along the bottom of the tank.

  “Yeah, Danny’s looking great too,” she replied, indicating the spiky ball of pufferfish that looked on the verge of popping.

  Her skinny brother gave a short-lived laugh before his face clouded over. “Dad would have loved this, wouldn’t he?”

  “Oh yeah. He would have loved it.” She nodded vigorously, biting her lip.

  Danny stared into the tank. “If you look at it long enough, it sends you into a trance. It like…hypnotizes you, and all the stuff going on in your brain just stops and you’re somewhere else…but nowhere, if you get what I mean…just kind of peaceful and nice.”

  Gina wished she could find peace by looking at the tank, but she knew what Danny was talking about. There was something about the combination of elements in it that cast a spell over the observer. The soft light in the hood spread a warm glow over the exotic, watery kingdom; the shimmering fish, their colours a feast for the eyes, gliding elegantly through the swaying plants. The bright, razor-sharp corals sitting on the bed of muted blue stones conjured up images of a tropical reef and the soothing hum of the pump made eyes glaze over.

  Danny kept his eyes fixed on the tank as he said quietly, “Sometimes I think it’s my fault that Dad killed himself.”

  “What? Why would you say that, Danny?”

  “I’m not stupid or anything; I know Dad didn’t do it because of this, but I think that I probably made him even sadder when really he needed someone to cheer him up. On the day before he died he asked me to go to the allotment with him, to do some digging, but I was on the Xbox in the middle of a game, so I said I wouldn’t and I let him go on his own. If I’d just gone with him and helped him I might have made him happy and maybe it would have stopped this depression thing.”

  Gina turned Danny to face her. “Don’t you ever think that. What happened was nothing to do with you. Dad wasn’t depressed. He didn’t kill himself!”

  Danny looked at her sadly. “Mum says I’m not to listen when you say things like that. She says that you’re not thinking straight.”

  “She’s wrong.”

  “But, Gina, you’ve spent for ever talking to people and going everywhere. If you were right you would have found something by now.”

  Gina hesitated, her breathing suddenly heavy with anxiety. “But I haven’t been everywhere. There’s somewhere I should have gone back to straight away but I haven’t been able to face it and the longer I’ve left it, the more scared I’ve been.” She kissed her brother’s soft curly hair. “But I promise I’ll go there today. I won’t let you and Dad down.”

  That afternoon Gina came down the stairs in her running gear. She hadn’t worn it since the evening her dad had died. She hadn’t been able to face running without him, but today, she was going to run for him.

  She saw the look of surprise and delight on her mum’s face. “Going for a run?” Her mum smiled encouragingly.

  “Yeah, thought I might.”

  “Got your new watch on, I see.”

  “Yeah.”

  Her mum was looking at her like she was a baby who’d just taken her first steps. “That’s fantastic, love. Have a good time.”

  Gina limbered up on the pavement, circling her arms, arching her back, stretching her legs against the dwarf wall outside their house. She listened to her bones cracking. She noticed how her athlete’s body looked weak and frail after eight months of neglect, and she wondered if running there was such a good idea after all.

  She’d discovered her talent for running a few years earlier during a cross-country competition at school. Gina had only entered it because it meant missing double maths. However, she’d glided around the mud-spattered field, adrenalin surging through her. As she’d sailed past the other competitors she knew she was on her way to victory. At last she’d found something she could shine at.

  When Gina had come home with the medal and coyly admitted that she “actually quite enjoyed running”, her dad hadn’t been able to contain his excitement. He’d told her that in the late 1970s, when his family had emigrated from Trinidad, he’d struggled to adjust to life in a grey Britain and running had become his lifeline. He used to love travelling to competitions with the school team in the minibus, having a laugh all the way. During his school days his bedroom shelves had been weighed down with trophies and medals for cross-country events. But then he’d started work at sixteen, married her mum at nineteen and become a father at twenty. There hadn’t been much time for sport after that.

  Straight away her dad had appointed himself Gina’s coach, and borrowed money from their Trinidad holiday fund to buy them each a decent pair of running shoes. He’d revelled in recapturing his youth as he worked out their training programme and mapped out routes for their runs through the local parks and across the city.

  Becky and the rest of Gina’s friends didn’t share her new-found passion. They warned her, half-jokingly
, that no girl could look attractive running – it just gave you sweat patches and made everything wobble.

  Gina had tried to explain it to them, speaking with the fervour of a Bible-Belt preacher. “But when you run, something brilliant happens,” she’d said, her eyes shining. “You feel so alive! It’s the challenge of pushing yourself on, especially when your legs feel like lead, your lungs are burning, and you want to collapse – you don’t give up! You push through the pain to the other side until everything starts to flow and you’re completely in the zone, just concentrating on your breathing until you’re almost in a trance! It’s fantastic!” she’d proclaimed, looking expectantly at her congregation.

  But her friends had just shaken their heads in disbelief. “There’s something wrong with you, Gina Wilson,” Becky had laughed.

  Now Gina looked down the street, took a deep breath and set off. Her neighbour, Bob, called out to her from his doorstep.

  “All right, Gina, love? Nice to see you out and about.”

  She suddenly felt self-conscious and scoured the street to see if anyone else was looking at her; but the only other person in sight was a figure coming out of an alleyway further up the road and he seemed quite oblivious to the world, with his hood up and his head down.

  Gina smiled awkwardly at Bob. “Thanks,” she said.

  She continued down the middle of her street towards the dock road, jumping the speed bumps with relish, luxuriating in the stretch of her legs, which felt like they’d just been unbound after eight long months. However, the feeling was short-lived, as the further she ran the more her body protested. As she panted her way down the dock road she wondered what her dad would say now about her poor posture, her flailing limbs and jarring knees.

  By the time she’d reached the main entrance to the docks she found herself staggering to a halt. The biting wind was making her exposed neck prickle and her cheeks burn.

  Dave walked out of his security hut and smiled sympathetically when he saw her bent double, puffing and panting.

  “If I was you, Gina, I’d just go home and put me feet up,” he advised.