Saturday 24 July
Charlie woke around midday, and stumbled into the bathroom, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired. It was hardly surprising that he hadn't slept well, nor that his dreams had featured McManus so prominently. What did worry him was that at least one of those dreams hadn't been a nightmare, judging by the evidence on his pyjamas. He'd lain in the bed for a few minutes, wondering how on earth he could find the man so attractive and so scary at the same time, but couldn't explain it.
When he eventually wandered into the kitchen, he found a note on the table: "Gone to Jeff's. Back tomorrow night. L." Liam. He had obviously been and gone while Charlie was still asleep. For all Charlie knew, he hadn't even noticed that anything had been taken.
Charlie swore, and screwed up the piece of paper before flinging it at the wall.
Sunday 25 July
Charlie scuffed his shoes along the pavement as he drew near to his parents' house. Sunday lunch was always a good meal, but Charlie felt so sick he doubted he'd be able to enjoy any of it. He had spent most of the journey on the bus wondering if should move back home - it was obvious that he couldn't afford to continue in the flat, not if he didn't have a job, and even if he did, every penny would have to go towards paying back the loan. But the few months' freedom he'd had since Christmas made the prospect very unattractive - not to mention the fact that Bridget had moved into the room that used to be his and Liam's, and she would be very reluctant to give it back to him.
Fuck Liam and his bloody ego! The old gear had been fine, even if it had looked a bit battered. They'd only needed a new amp to replace the one that had melted, not a complete system. If Liam had just done what he was meant to and got the amp they'd have been fine, but no, Liam had said they had to have gear that looked good for the video. So he'd got the gear and they'd done the video - in the bank where Patrick's Mum worked, and yes, it had seemed like a real giggle at the time, to film a music video through the bank's security cameras - and sent it out with their demo CD out to all the major record companies. Of course, they hadn't heard anything back yet, but Liam said it was early days yet, that record companies often took a few months to reply, and in the meantime they had this shiny new equipment that looked fantastic and was pulling the birds in at every gig. Which, Charlie thought, was fine for Liam, but birds didn't exactly cut it for Charlie, and he didn't think the new amps sounded any better than the old ones did, but he was only the bass player, wasn't he, so what did he know? He kicked at an errant stone in disgust and watched it skitter along the pavement.
And now Liam had disappeared, and he had no money and no job and no fucking guitar, and if he was really unlucky he'd end up with no fingers when McManus caught up with them again. And he still missed Richard and he wished he hadn't dropped out of Uni, and his life was just turning to shit before his eyes.
He slowed as he approached the house, and took a couple of deep breaths. His Mum would be worried if she saw him upset, and he didn't want that, he didn't want her to start asking questions. He had to appear as normal as possible today.
He let himself into the house and tried to drum up a smile for Kevin, his youngest brother, who was on the stairs playing some sort of cops & robbers game with Brian from across the street.
"Hi Charlie! Guess what?" he shouted as Charlie picked him up and twirled him around.
"What, grub?"
"I got a brand new game for my Nintendo! Star Wars!" he yelled happily, laughing as he landed back on the floor.
"Did you, brat? Who gave you that?"
"Tessa, of course."
"Of course." Theresa, the older of his two sisters, had a part-time job at the John Lewis store in town, and often took advantage of her staff discount to get things for Kevin. Charlie didn't begrudge her the job, or Kevin his toys, not really, but he hated that his younger sisters were contributing more to the family than he was.
He set his little brother down, ruffled his hair, and stepped over Brian, who was doing a not-very-convincing job of playing dead. In the lounge, his father was snoozing in his armchair, oblivious to the household noise, while the remnants of the Sunday papers lay scattered around him. Bridget was trying to tidy them up without waking him, and she smiled at Charlie as he walked past. In the kitchen, he found Theresa and his mother preparing the meal, chattering away with the radio on in the background.
"Hi Mum," he said, putting his arms around her and giving her a tight hug. "How's my favourite woman in the whole world?"
"Hello, Charlie, dear. I'm fine, love. How's yourself?"
"Not so bad." He couldn't - wouldn't - spill his troubles here and now. He had to talk to Liam first. He let his Mum go and gave a far more perfunctory hug to Theresa. "Hi, Tess. Spoiling Kevin again?"
"It was marked down." She sounded defensive, and Charlie wondered if she'd already got an earful from his Mum.
"Now then, Charlie, don't start. You can set the table if you've nothing better to do."
"All right. How many?"
"Let's see, Tessa, Biddy, you, Kevin, Brian - his Mam's over visiting his Dad at the hospital today - and your Dad and myself. How many's that?"
"Seven. What's wrong with Brian's dad?"
"Oh, nothing serious, just a hernia operation. He'll be out of there tomorrow, I expect."
Bridget handed Charlie the cutlery. "Isn't Liam coming?" she asked.
Charlie shook his head. "He's away. Gone to Leeds. Bastard."
"Language, Charlie."
"Sorry Mum. I just needed to talk to him and he skipped off."
"Why, Charlie, what's wrong?"
Charlie took a deep breath. "Oh, nothing too bad. Brother stuff." He gave a bright smile and went to set the table, knowing full well that his mother's beady eye was fixed on his back.
Lunch was lively with the two boys, but Charlie found it difficult to keep his attention on the conversations around him. He loved his family, he really did, but his mind was so caught up in the predicament he was in that he couldn't drum up much interest in the girls' anxiety over exam results - A-levels for Theresa, GCE for Bridget - or Theresa's plans for her gap year in Australia.
He sat with his parents while Theresa and Bridget did the dishes, trying to make conversation, but it was difficult to talk to his father at the best of times, let alone when he was pre-occupied. His father thought him a fool for having dropped out of university the previous Christmas, and doubly a fool for having settled for a menial job in a take-away cafe just because it was convenient. While he'd had the job, Charlie hadn't minded so much, but then the café had closed in May, suddenly, and so far he hadn't been able to find anything that suited him or his meagre qualifications.
When his mother returned to the kitchen for more tea, he found himself following her, leaning up against the counter while she filled the kettle. He knew she'd ask - she always did. What he didn't know was whether or not he wanted to answer her.
She switched the kettle on and put fresh tea into the pot, then looked at him and asked, "What's the matter, love?"
"Nothing." Obviously not, then.
She sighed and enveloped him an a warm hug. "I won't press you, dear, but you look unhappy. Is it that you haven't got a job yet?"
"Partly." He rested his head on her shoulder, wishing he were still ten years old and could climb into her lap.
"Do you want to move home again? It can't be easy, trying to pay rent out of what you get each week."
"You don't have the room anymore, Mum."
"I'll always have room for you, Charlie, you know that. I could borrow that camp bed from Sally Fraser until your Dad can buy you a new one." She shook her head. "I told him it was a bad idea to sell your old beds, but you know what he's like. Always thinks he knows best."
"Only Mums know best."
"That's right, and don't you forget it." She pinched his cheek, lightly, and smiled.
Charlie grinned back. It was very tempting to come back home to the warmth and safety of his family... but then he thought of what might happen if the Shark tracked him there, and what the man might do to them, and he knew he couldn't take the risk. Better to keep a safe distance.
"Thanks, Mum, but I'll give it a few more weeks, see what else turns up."
"All right, then dear, but don't ever think you won't be welcome here. Job or no job, you're my son and you belong with your family." She kissed his cheek and let him go. He gave a slightly sheepish smile, but had to admit that he felt a little better.
"Now, then love, take this with you." She put twenty pounds into his hand.
"Mum, I can't -"
"Yes, you can. I won't have you starving yourself on that pittance they call a benefit. Get yourself some decent food, now, do you hear? You can pay me back when you're famous and earning millions."
"Yes, Mum." He gave her a rueful smile as he took the money. He knew he ought to resent her implication that he couldn't manage, but he was too relieved to have the money to care. One day... he thought. One day I'll get her a nice house and a car and a diamond necklace and a maid and a gardener.
One day.
He was saved from an embarrassing display of sentimentality by Kevin, who came racing in to see if Charlie would play a bit of football with him and Brian.
"Sure, half-pint. Get your ball and we'll go over to the park."
"Great!" Kevin exclaimed, and raced back out the kitchen, yelling, "Brian, Charlie's going to take us to the park!"
Charlie and his mother exchanged speaking looks. "I'll look after them," he promised.
"I'm sure you will. And don't you dare spend a penny of that money on ice-creams if the van comes around! I have plenty for them in the freezer here."
"Yes, Mum." He gave her a hug and a kiss and went to collect the boys.
* * *
At half-past four Charlie brought the boys back: happy, exhausted, and covered in dirt from head to foot; and if his mother noticed the tell-tale smear of colour around their lips she didn't say anything, just sent them off to get washed and tidied up for tea.
A couple of hours later, fed again and carrying a plastic container of leftover apple pie, he set off home - back to the flat, corrected himself. It was a long journey on the bus, and he had plenty of time to brood on Liam's betrayal and the Shark's visit. Inexplicably, though, he found himself thinking about the man's eyes - such a clear green, with curling lashes - and he wondered what he would have said to him if they'd met under normal circumstances, if they would have chatted, or had a beer, or...
He reached home around eight, and put the precious apple pie in the fridge - it would do for dinner the next day if he could hold off that long. He walked into the living room and stopped dead. Under the current, decidedly far-from-normal circumstances, he shouldn't have been surprised to see Liam sitting comfortably on the sofa, reading a book, but he was.
"Hello, lil'bro," said Liam, cheerily, but Charlie grabbed the book and threw it down, hauled him up by his shirt front and flung him across the room. Liam bounced off the wall, looking shocked
"What's the matter?" he asked, his hands going up to his head. "That hurt, dickhead."
"Where the fuck have you been?"
"I went to Leeds with John and Jeff. I told you I was going."
"Yeah? Well there's something you forgot to tell me, isn't there? You forgot to tell me you missed another payment. You lied to me!"
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that. What the fuck happened?"
"Well, I was just leaving, and I checked my wallet to see that the money was still there, and Mr Ramachandra came up and wanted the rent, and I had the money in my hand, and he just took it. There was nothing I could do. He just took it out of my hand."
"Rama? But why'd he do that? It's not due until the first." Charlie looked puzzled for a moment, until he realised what had happened. "Oh, no, Liam. Tell me you didn't take the rent money as well. Tell me you didn't take the rent money to pay McManus. Oh, you did, didn't you! You stupid fuck, Liam!"
"Well, I figured Ramachandra would give us a few weeks to make good. We've been late before."
"Not three weeks late! Oh fuck, Liam, we're fucked. We're really fucked."
"It's not that bad -
"Not that bad? He was here, Liam. Here in this room, him and his two large friends. They took everything they could - the TV, the CD player, Ben's jacket, and my guitar - the bass and the acoustic. They took my guitar! How am I going to get it back before the next gig?"
"Hey, I'm sorry-"
"Sorry isn't good enough! You knew he'd come here to get the money, and you left me here without a word - you left me to face him on my own. I thought I was going to die, Liam, I thought he was going to kill me! You stupid fucking coward!"
Charlie swung a punch at Liam, who blocked it.
"Charlie! Stop! Fuck!" He swore as Charlie's next punch connected with his ribs. Suddenly it was as if they were teenagers again, fighting tooth and nail, clawing at each other, using fists and knees and teeth and elbows.
"Look, Charlie, stop this," Liam panted.
"Fuck you. I hate you!" Charlie had no time for discussion as he threw a knee into Liam's midsection and tried to dislocate his right elbow. He was angry, he was frustrated, he was scared for himself and their family, and he had to take it out on someone.
"Charlie! That's hurts, you prick!"
Liam managed to extract himself from Charlie's grip and threw a punch at his jaw. Though it connected with a thud, it didn't deter Charlie at all. They fought on for some minutes, their verbal exchanges limited to grunts and expletives. Liam, always bigger, always stronger, was starting to get the better of it when Charlie managed to hook a leg behind his knee, and Liam overbalanced, falling against the raised hearth. He cried out in pain, and clutched his left arm to his chest.
"Oh, fuck Charlie, it hurts. I think I've broken it."
"You've tried that before, Liam, Doesn't fool me."
"Not fooling," he gasped. "I really think it's broken."
Charlie, panting, dropped to his knees and looked at Liam's left arm, which was already starting to swell. It was definitely broken.
They stared at each other in horror.
* * *
The emergency department was crowded, as usual. It seemed as if the entire city (or at least a decent-sized suburb) had suffered falls, lacerations, stab wounds and blows from assorted blunt instruments - and they were the ones who were upright. Children wailed, adults groaned and whimpered, and trolleys clanged against walls and doors.
Liam and Charlie sat in the waiting room for three hours until an exhausted registrar ran a perfunctory hand over Liam's arm, checked the circulation, and wrote a request slip for an X-ray.
"How much longer are we going to have to be here?" Charlie asked.
The registrar turned a weary eye to Charlie as he handed the slip to the waiting nurse. "Not long. Lucky for you the radiographer's already in, or you'd have to come back tomorrow morning." He scribbled something in Liam’s notes and left the cubicle.
The nurse escorted them down to the imaging department, where Charlie waited for half an hour as the radiographer took X-rays of Liam’s wrist. Then they were sent back to the emergency room for another wait.
The registrar came back in and held the X-rays up to the light. "Undisplaced fracture of the distal ulna. The wrist bones look all right though." He jotted down some notes in Liam's file. "You'll get a slab tonight, but you should come back tomorrow and get a full cast put on. Then we'll get you an appointment with the fracture clinic."
"Why can’t you put a full cast on now?" Liam asked. "Why do we have to come all the way back tomorrow?"
The doctor sighed, and said, "Because the arm’s still swelling up and a full cast might restrict the circulation. By tomorrow afternoon the swelling will be close to its maximum – especially if you keep it elevated – and it’ll be safe to put a cast on."
"How long will it have to be on?"
"Three or four weeks, maybe longer. Depends. The clinic will tell you. You may need some physio afterwards. I'll get someone to apply the slab and then I'll check it before you go. You'll also need some painkillers - I've written you a script." He yawned, handed Liam a prescription and wandered out again.
The brothers looked at each other.
"Four weeks," breathed Charlie.
"Plus physio." Liam looked glum. And no telling how long it'll take before I can play guitar again."
"Well, at least you have a guitar." Charlie kicked the wall of the cubicle. He seemed to be doing a lot of kicking lately.
Liam was muttering under his breath. "Three... four... five..." He paused. "Charlie, do you remember if that crap Irish pub confirmed for Thursday fortnight?"
"No idea. Ask Patrick."
"I'll have to. We’re going to lose at least five gigs. Shit. This is all your fault you know."
"My fault? How the bloody hell can it be my fault?"
"You’re the one who made me fall."
"You’re the one who missed a payment and then skipped off for the weekend."
"Wasn’t my fault Ramachandra took the money."
"Well, if you hadn’t missed his payment he wouldn’t have taken McManus’s, would he?"
"If you still had a job we wouldn't have been behind in the payments."
"If you hadn't bet against Man U we wouldn't be in this fix."
Liam fell silent, a tacit acknowledgment that Charlie was right. He stretched his legs, yawning. "Christ, I'm tired. How much longer are we going to be here?"
"That was a rhetorical question, right? 'Cos I'm not exactly in charge here."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, until Charlie spoke again. "Maybe we should tell Mum and Dad. They'd have to help."
"Yeah, right, Charlie, that's a great idea. Let's tell Mum and Dad what you did to me. And while we're at it, we can tell them what you did for McManus the last time we missed a payment. I'm sure they'd love to hear about that."
There was no mistaking the taunting note in Liam's words, and Charlie could feel his fists clenching in reflex anger. He had no doubt that Liam would twist it all around so that Charlie was the one at fault. Always Charlie the fuck-up, Charlie the one who couldn't get through Uni, couldn't get a decent job, couldn't get a girlfriend. Charlie the faggot.
He turned and rested his forehead against the wall, the cool plaster soothing his aching head a little. It didn't help. He couldn't see any way out of their mess. It was either their parents or...
"We'll have to call him, then. Talk to him. Ask him for more time." It was the only other solution, and if he couldn't make Liam see that then they might as well slit their own throats and be done with it.
"He'll kill us."
"Not - not if we explain. Show him." Charlie tried to sound confident. "He can't argue with a doctor's certificate." He paused. "Can he?"
"I have no fucking idea. Maybe we should just run away, go to London . If he can't find us-"
"He knows where we live," Charlie cut in. "He knows about our family. If we disappear he'll take it out on them."
"We don't know that."
"Yes, we do. He told me." Charlie shivered a little as he remembered McManus' face. "He knows, believe me."
"What do we do, then?" Liam seemed to be losing hope.
"We have to tell him. He's going to find out, sooner or later, and it'll be better for us if we tell him first." Charlie tried again for a confident note, but from Liam's expression he could tell it wasn't working too well. "There really isn't any other option, you know that."
Liam admitted defeat and nodded. "Tomorrow, then, after the fracture clinic."
"Tomorrow."