No Going Back

by Mick Moran

  “Why am I not surprised?” Tom sounded angry. Glancing at his watch he helped himself to some cereal.

 

  Ignoring his anger, Teresa made two cups of coffee and placed one in front of Tom, while she told of the events of Monday evening and about Tommy running off.

 

  “You scared him away. But why did you doubt his reason for wishing to see Joe?”

 

  “It was what Joe said on the previous evening. Sorry, I haven’t told you about that.”

 

  Tom sighed. “I think we need a long talk about all this.”

 

  Teresa agreed. She needed to share her problem.

 

  “But,” Tom continued, “I’m afraid it will have to wait until this evening.” A quick peck on the cheek and he was gone, leaving Teresa alone wit her thoughts.

 

  Then it was Teresa that was annoyed. Tom hadn’t even offered her a lift. Though, to be fair, when he did she usually refused it. Only when the weather was exceptionally bad did she accept his lift. She enjoyed the walk by the canal. That morning, however, she was apprehensive about taking that lonely route and would have welcomed a lift. She would go by the busy streets instead. The note had unsettled her a lot more than Tom had realised.

 

  Teresa sat down again, pondering her situation. She never expected it to get to where it was. Should she go to the police? Joe had said that telling the police about his suspicions was a bad idea. She hadn’t pressed him enough on that. There was so much he was not telling her. Should she talk to him again before doing anything else? Would he understand her fears? He had warned her against getting involved. He’d be angry and probably shout at her. She didn’t feel that she could take that right then.

  In any case she couldn’t phone him. She didn’t know his number, or even if he was yet connected.

 

  She told herself that it was just an idle threat: like Tom said, a crank, but why? And how did he know where she lived? Thinking back to Monday evening, it seemed likely that she was followed home that evening. Tommy had lied about catching a bus. Probably someone was waiting for him outside in a vehicle. That person had then followed her all the way to her home. Thinking about it, when offered a lift Tommy was very reluctant.

 

  Teresa deemed it best not to dwell on it any longer. It was time to set off for her school. She must put the whole business out of her head, at least until she got home that afternoon.

 

  She achieved that. She was able to shut it out by giving her work her all, as she always did. Even walking home in the rain it was the problems of the day at school that occupied her mind, as well as trying to get home out of the rain as quickly as possible. The morning was dry and she hadn’t bothered to take her umbrella.

 

  After getting home she had just dried her hair when the phone rang.

  “Teresa, it’s Andy. We’re finishing work early today; it’s so wet.”

 

  “Yes Andy?” She was momentarily puzzled. Then she remembered her promise: to take him to the hospital if he finished early one day. He said that would only happen on a wet day. She should have known.

 

  Andy sensed her hesitation. “If it’s inconvenient don’t worry.”

 

  “No Andy. It’s fine. When time can you be ready?” It wasn’t fine, but what could she do?

  ***

 

 

 

  Andy was stood in the bus shelter as arranged when Teresa drew up. He looked cold and miserable. However, on seeing Teresa his face lit up and he hurriedly entered the car. It was still raining.

 

  “You’re wet Andy,” remarked Teresa

 

  “Not too bad. I hadn’t far to come.”

  Teresa noticed how cold he looked, but refrained from commenting on him not wearing a coat. At least the car was warm. He appreciated that.

 

  “It’s a nice warm car,” he said “I’m very grateful for this. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

  “It’s fine Andy. I intended to go myself in any case. The poor man won’t get many visitors.” Teresa smiled, masking, she hoped, her still agitated state of mind. Things had not gone as smoothly as she hoped to give Andy the impression they had. It was one of those days. Tom was not happy with her going out almost immediately after he got in. Her brief apology and explanation had clearly not satisfied him. Of that he’d left her in no doubt. There would be more explaining to do when she got home. But, for now, she must put it to one side.

 

  “I believe he’s on the mend,” she said. “Brendan saw him on Monday”

 

  “Yes. I talked to Brendan too.”

 

  “I’m sure seeing you will cheer him up.”

 

  “I hope so.” Andy didn’t sound very confident. Then, turning to Teresa, he asked. “Why do you want to keep it quiet about him getting better?” It was clearly something that had been preying on his mind.

 

  “That’s a good question Andy,” she replied. It was something that she hadn’t planned to talk about. However, she felt Andy deserved an explanation. Not taking her eyes off the road, the conditions didn’t allow it, she continued. “It’s my brother Joe, he’s convinced that Martin was attacked to keep him quiet.”

 

  “I thought he was robbed.”

 

  “Yes. He was robbed. But, according to Joe that wasn’t the only reason for the attack. Joe believes that the main reason for the attack was to stop him telling the police what he knows.”

 

  Momentarily taking her eyes off the road, she glanced at Andy. He was shaking his head.

 

  “I know it’s hard to believe Andy,” she continued, “but Joe is of the opinion that Martin has information that if told to the police would put certain people in prison for a long time. The person, or persons, that attacked him meant to kill him. It’s best that they think they succeeded. Otherwise, Joe believes, they will try again.”

 

  “When Joe told me this, at first I dismissed it. Joe has quiet an imagination. But, the more I think about it the more I’m getting round to believing that there might be something in it.”

 

  That afternoon, while waiting for Tom, Teresa had been going over it in her mind. First of all it was what Father Downey had said; Martin was convinced that the assault on Michael O’Malley in Broadfield, which resulted in his death, was meant for him. Then, Martin himself was attacked and left for dead. The threatening note that morning was clearly about her questioning of Tommy a couple of evenings previously. It was the mention of Michael O’Malley that panicked him into running away.

 

  She thought it best not to mention all that. Hoping Andy didn’t question her any more she just added: “so to be on the safe side, let’s keep it quiet about Martin getting better.”

 

  Andy, however, was thinking on different lines. “All right,” he replied. “But, I’ll have to tell my mother when I write home.”

 

  “Yes. I’m sure that will be fine Andy.”

 

  “She’ll be telling his brother: they’re neighbours. I already told her that Martin is in hospital. I hope I did the right thing.”

 

  “I’m sure you did Andy. His brother has a right to know.”

 

  “I hope Martin sees it like that.”

  ***

 

 

 

  “He must be better. He’s out of bed,” observed Teresa, as she and Andy approached Martin’s bed.

 

  Martin, s
at in the chair by the bed, smiled when he saw them. He obviously recognised Andy, but he also looked somewhat puzzled. He stood up holding out his hand.

 

  Andy took his hand. “How are you Martin?”

 

  “I’m a lot better thanks Andy.”

 

  “You’ve met Teresa.”

 

  “I’m sorry,” replied Martin taking Teresa’s hand.

 

  “Don’t you remember me Martin? I saw you a few days ago.”

 

  “I’m sorry,” repeated Martin, shaking his head. He clearly didn’t remember.

 

  “Don’t worry. You were very tired that day. But, it’s great that you’re so much brighter today. Sit down.”

 

  “Thank you.” Sitting back down, Martin turned to Andy. “Get a couple of chairs Andy,” he said, pointing to some chairs stacked by the wall at the end of the ward.

 

  While Andy went for the chairs, Teresa, resting on the bed, said, “I’d better tell you who I am. I can see you’re looking puzzled. I’m Teresa Kelly. My maiden name was Teresa Casey. You know my father Dom Casey.

 

  Martin nodded. “I do.” Then it dawned on him. “You must be the girl that wrote those letters.”

 

  Teresa smiled. “Yes. That’s me.”

 

  “Oh, thank you. I’m so grateful to you. It was a great thing that you did. It meant so much to me. A lot of people blamed me for what happened to your uncle and Seamus Cox. Your father let me read the letters from Seamus. It was great to find that he didn’t blame me.”

 

  “Yes. We were all pleased about that. Mind you, my father stopped blaming you a long time ago. And, not only did Seamus say he didn’t blame you; he said you actually saved his life. You were a hero.”

 

  “Now, I don’t know about that. That wasn’t the way it looked to me.”

 

  “Oh, you’re too modest,” laughed Teresa. “And that, I’ve heard, wasn’t the only the only heroic thing you did in your youth. Was it Andy?” Andy had just returned with two chairs.

 

  Teresa was trying to be jovial, but seeing Martin’s face immediately regretted what she just said.

 

  “No,” replied Andy. He had his back to them while placing the chairs.

  “There was the time in the ball alley….” Turning and seeing Martin shaking his downcast head, Andy stopped abruptly.

 

  “We’re embarrassing you now Martin,” said Teresa “Sorry. We’re just happy that you’re looking so much better. You’re feeling better too, aren’t you?”

 

  “Yes. I am.” Martin looked at her seemingly pleased that the subject was changed.

 

  “No headaches?”

 

  “Oh, yes. I get headaches. The painkillers they give me, though, ease them.”

 

  “ Can you remember anything about what happened?” asked Andy

 

  “No. Not about how I got this.” Martin pointed to the dressing on the back of his head.

 

  “Were you robbed?”

 

  “Yes. The money I had on me was gone.”

 

  “Was it a lot?”

 

  “Well, the most of a hundred pounds, I think, and a few other things that were in my pockets. But, they didn’t take my pipe and tobacco, or the knife. They left all them.” Martin smiled looking at the items on top of his bedside cabinet.

 

  “Oh, good,” said Teresa At least you can have a smoke then.”

 

  “Yes. I can. Not here, but there’s a room down there.” He indicated with his head. “Where I can smoke my pipe. They’ve been taking me down in a wheelchair, but I walked down myself today.”

 

  You’re getting better all the time. How are you for money though?”

 

  “A lady came a coupla days ago. When I told her what happened, she said she’d sort something out, but I’ve not heard since. I have a bank book in the digs I was in, but I don’t know how I’ll get it.”

 

  “I could write to Mary,” Andy offered. “His landlady,” he explained, glancing at Teresa. Teresa, of course, knew all that. She also knew about the bankbook, but she had to be careful what she said. “She’s not on the phone?” she asked, although she knew that as well.

 

  “No,” Martin replied.

 

  “Is there anyone else we could ring? What about the Priest?”

 

  “Yes. Father Downey: a nice man, but I don’t know his phone number.”

 

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find it. Leave it with me. In the meantime…” Teresa got out her purse.

 

  Martin waved it away. “I’m all right. I can manage.”

 

  “Just a little to tide you over.” She pushed a five-pound note into the top pocket of his pyjamas.

 

  “Well, thank you. I’ll pay you back when I get sorted.

 

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll sort you out.”

 

  “If you’re talking to Mary its in the top drawer of the chest of drawers in my room. Maybe she’ll post it down to us.”

 

  “They’re worried about you up there,” said Andy. “They’ll be delighted to hear that you’re on the mend.”

 

  Martin turned to Andy looking puzzled. “Up there?” he queried.

 

  “In Broadfield.”

 

  “Yes. Of course: Brendan said you were living down here now. What caused you to move?

 

  “It’s a long story. The work mainly: there’s more work down here.”

 

  “Brendan said something about you getting a job. I’m a bit confused. There’s so much I can’t remember.”

 

  “Don’t worry about it you’re doing great.”

 

  Martin shook his head. “There’s so much I can’t remember,” he repeated. “They tell me I was found on the Coventry road. I have no idea how I got there.”

 

  “But, you remember being at my father and mother’s house, earlier that evening,” Teresa reminded him.

 

  “Oh, yes. I do. Sure, like I said, didn’t I read the letter there?”

 

  Andy looked puzzled. He didn’t question it, but Teresa realized that he didn’t know about the letter. She would explain later.

 

  “And after you left?” Teresa asked. “Can you remember where you went?”

 

  “No. Brendan was here the other day. I was in his pub earlier that evening. He said I promised to come back, but I never did. I remember being in his pub all right. It was him that gave me your father’s address.

  But, I can’t remember why I didn’t go back. The policeman was asking me the same question, but I couldn’t help him much.”

 

  “I heard a policeman was here Sunday. Did he come back again?”

 

  “Yes. I was told he was here Sunday, but I can’t remember that. He came back again yesterday, though: a nice man. But, I could only tell him what I told you. The nurse wouldn’t let him talk to me for long. She said I needed to rest.”

 

  “Yes, just rest. I’m sure it will come back to you eventually.” Teresa was wondering if Martin had been questioned about he death of Michael O’Malley in Broadfield. It seemed not. Not yet. Although it must happed sometime. Martin probably didn’t even kno
w that he’d died. She would like to hear his opinion on that. But, it wasn’t the right time to ask him, or even to tell him about the death.

 

  “Talking about rest, are we tiring you out?”

 

  “No; not at all. It’s very good of you to come.”

 

  Andy cleared his throat. He was feeling apprehensive about what he must tell Martin. “I. I hope I did the right thing,” he said nervously, watching for Martin’s reaction. Martin just nodded as if he knew what was coming.

 

  “In my last letter home,” Andy continued, “I told my mother that you were in hospital. She’ll be telling your brother.”

 

  Martin smiled. “It’s O K Andy. Sure I should have known you would. Thanks for telling me. I just hope he doesn’t think he has to come over to see me, or anything like that.”

 

  “Well, I’ll write again tomorrow and say that you’re a lot better.”

 

  “Please do Andy. You’re a good lad.”

 

  “Would you ever think of writing to him yourself?” I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.

 

  “Maybe he would. After all those years though, I don’t know.” Martin shook his head ruefully.

 

  Teresa was about to say, of course you know. She knew from the letters she read at Mary’s house, how much Martin’s brother longed to hear from him. But, she held her tongue, not wishing to say anything that might make Martin suspect that she had been reading his private correspondences.

 

  Instead she changed the subject. “Do you know how long you’ll be in hospital?” she asked.

 

  “The doctor that came to see me this morning said that if I carry on improving like I am doing I could be out of here in a week. But, he didn’t think that I could go back to work for a long time.”

 

  “So, what will you do?”

 

  “He said that they will send me to some kind of convalescent place, but he didn’t know where.”

 

  “That will be nice. You can have a nice rest there: much nicer than in hospital. When will you know?” Teresa was thinking about Martin’s safety.

 

  “I don’t know. I think it’s the same lady that’s sorting out my money that will be arranging where I go. It will be probably be next week before I know anything.”

 

  “I think it would be best if you could keep it between you and her: to let as few as possible know where you’re going.”

 

  “Why? Although he asked the question, Martin didn’t seem unduly surprised at the advice.

 

  “Well, I don’t know.” Teresa had to choose her words carefully. “I wouldn’t expect you to have enemies that would wish to harm you. But, the assault appears to have been more vicious than was necessary if the motive was just robbery. What do you think?