The Suicide Pact (The Tick-Tock Trilogy Book 3)

by David B Lyons

  She takes in each face in front of her; eight boys, three girls.

  ‘We have reason to believe two of your friends may be in grave danger. We’re not looking to cause any trouble; we’re only here to help save lives. You can keep drinking your cider, keep smoking that cheap weed. All I want is to speak to Tommy. Now… which one of you is Tommy?’

  ‘He’s not here,’ the smallest of the girls says.

  ‘Shurrup, Audrey,’ the boy with the acne says. ‘We don’t talk to pigs.’

  Audrey takes a step behind her friend to try to stifle her embarrassment by hiding her face.

  Helen looks back at Charlie, then turns to the group again.

  ‘Thank you, Audrey. Listen, guys, we’re not here to disturb your evening. We have good reason to believe two girls, of about your age, will die tonight if we can’t get to them first. Tommy knows who they are, and where they are. We need to speak with him as soon as possible.’

  The boy with the acne takes a step closer to Helen, then sniffs his nose as loudly as he can before folding his arms and standing more upright.

  ‘I get it,’ Helen says, ‘you don’t speak to pigs.’ She strains her neck, so she can peer past him. ‘What about the rest of you?’

  ‘We don’t believe you,’ another boy shouts.

  Helen takes her hands out of her pockets and holds her palms up.

  ‘I am not lying. I swear to you. To each of you. We just need to speak to Tommy for two minutes, then we’ll be on our way.’

  The boy with the acne sniffs his nose loudly again. No noise comes from the gang behind him.

  Helen fidgets with her fingers, then sucks on her lips.

  ‘Okay… let me ask you this. Do any of you know of any girls from the area or from your school who you feel might be tempted to commit suicide? It’s imperative you tell us. We need to save their lives.’

  The boy with the acne looks behind him. Then he turns back to Helen and sniffs his nose again.

  Helen runs a hand through the back of her orange hair, scrunching it up in frustration.

  ‘You’re a funny looking pig aren’tcha?’ the boy with the acne says. ‘And you… you with the torch, ye look like a bleedin’ rat. All that’s missing is the whiskers.’

  An echo of laughter sounds around them. Helen eyeballs as much of the group as she can, noticing that the cowering Audrey is the only one not finding acne boy particularly funny.

  ‘How old are you, Audrey?’ Helen asks.

  Audrey’s eyes go wide at the mention of her name, then she stares down at her Nike trainers.

  ‘Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, maybe I should guess,’ Helen says. ‘Thirteen? Fourteen? Well, the two girls who we believe are going to harm themselves tonight are your age. I don’t suppose one of em is you, is it?’

  Audrey looks up, then shakes her head rapidly.

  ‘Shurrup, Audrey,’ the boy with the acne says. ‘Don’t tell these pigs nuttin.’

  Helen looks back to Charlie again and sighs. He takes a step forward, shining the torch in the boy’s acne-ridden face.

  ‘You’re hardly one for judging people’s looks, young man,’ he says. ‘Now, the rest of you listen up. Two girls’ lives are in the balance here. We are not looking for any information other than where we can find Tommy Smith so he can give us the name of these girls. Which one of you is Tommy Smith?’

  ‘He’s not here,’ a boy from the back calls out. ‘He don’t hang round here no more. Hasn’t hung with us in months. He fucked off with another bunch of mates.’

  Charlie nods.

  ‘Thank you. Now, can you tell me where I can find him? Where does he hang out with these new mates?’

  The group fall silent again. Charlie pivots his wrist, so he can shine the torch in to each of their faces. Every time a face lights up, its eyes look down. They don’t want to talk.

  ‘You’re only thirteen, right?’ Helen says stepping in front of Charlie and staring at Audrey.

  Audrey shakes her head.

  ‘Fourteen?’

  Audrey nods.

  ‘Okay then… you are under arrest for underage drinking, you are coming with us.’

  ‘Hold the fuck on,’ the boy with the acne says, holding his hand in front of Helen.

  Helen eyeballs him, the two of them having a staring competition in front of the group of teenagers, torchlight shining between them.

  ‘You wanna be done too for assaulting a police officer?’ Helen asks after the staring match has carried on for way too long.

  The boy removes his hand and Helen holds hers out to Audrey.

  ‘C’mon, Audrey, you’re coming with us.’

  ‘Why y’only pickin’ on her… we’re all drinking, we’re all smoking joints?’ one of the boys asks.

  Helen coughs into her hand.

  ‘Audrey here confirmed her age for me. You all wanna do the same? You all wanna come to the station with us?’

  She looks around at the gang, hoping they all stay silent. Things would get a hell of a lot more complicated for Helen if they all admitted to being under age. If they all wanted to go to the station as a protest to support Audrey, Helen’s plan would fall apart. She nods at the silence. Relieved.

  ‘Good,’ she says. ‘We only need to formally address Audrey. We’ll have her back with you in a few minutes.’

  Helen stretches her hand further. Audrey creeps out slowly from behind her friend and then walks towards the torchlight and out from under the bridge; Charlie in front of her, Helen behind her.

  ‘Fuckin pigs,’ one of the gang shouts out.

  Charlie leads both Audrey and Helen up the steps and towards his Garda car. He holds the top of Audrey’s head as she bends into the back seat and then Helen walks to the other side of the car, gets into the back seat too.

  ‘You can go back under the bridge,’ she says, ‘back swigging your cheap cider in a couple minutes, Audrey. I just have a couple of important questions I need to ask you.’

  Audrey nods her head, and then eyeballs Helen before staring over at Charlie who has just got himself into the driver’s seat. Her knees are shaking.

  ‘Two girls’ lives are in danger, so I need you to be totally honest with me. I don’t care if you are drinking cider and smoking weed, I don’t care if Tommy Smith is from a family of scumbags who have been in and out of prison. Honestly, whatever you or any of your mates have done in the past, I couldn’t give two shits about it. All I want to do tonight is save these girls’ lives.’

  Audrey nods her head and swallows at the same time.

  ‘Do you know of any girls who might want to harm themselves tonight?’

  Audrey’s shoulders hunch up, then down.

  ‘No,’ she says. Helen squelches her face up in disappointment. ‘I’m being honest. No. I don’t know any girls who would commit suicide.’

  ‘Okay. Where can we find Tommy Smith? He holds the key to us tracking these two girls down. We need to find him.’

  Audrey allows a light sigh seep its way out of her nostrils.

  ‘Ye can’t tell him I told yis where he hangs out,’ she says.

  Helen shakes her head.

  ‘We won’t.’

  ‘He eh… he’s started to hang around with some older blokes. I don’t know who they are. But I think they mostly hang around the snooker hall in Terenure, ye know it?’

  Helen looks at Charlie.

  ‘Yeah, I know it,’ Charlie says. ‘It’s called Cue, right?’

  Audrey nods her head. She looks disappointed in herself; as if she’s revealing some dark secret she swore she’d never tell.

  ‘It’s all okay, Audrey. We aren’t looking to arrest Tommy for anything. Our only concern is saving the two girls,’ Helen reminds her.

  ‘Really? Yis aren’t messing with me? This is really about two girls committing suicide?’

  Helen places a curled finger under Audrey’s chin and lifts it so that she can stare into her eyes.

  ‘I promise,’ she says.
‘Now do you think Tommy will be in Cue right now?’

  Audrey raises an eyebrow, then shakes her shoulder towards Helen.

  ‘I assume so… it’s where he normally is. But as I said, I don’t really hang around with him anymore. He stopped hanging around with us months ago.’

  ‘Do you go to the same school as Tommy?’

  Audrey laughs through her nose.

  ‘He doesn’t go to school, are ye mad? Don’t know when’s the last time I saw him at school.’

  ‘But you do go to St Joseph’s School; Brother Fitzpatrick is your Headteacher, right?’

  Audrey’s eyes widen.

  ‘Are the two girls from my school? Who are they?’

  Helen removes her finger from underneath Audrey’s chin.

  ‘That’s what we need to find out. Audrey… tell us, do you know of any girls from your school who you feel would put their lives in danger?’

  Audrey holds her lips tight together, then begins to shake her head slowly.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’d tell yis if I did. I want to help. I hope yis find these two girls, but I… I can’t help ye. I can only tell ye where I think Tommy might be. Hopefully he can help yis.’

  Helen squelches her face up again, then she takes out her phone to check the time. 21:56. Time is running out.

  ‘D’you have Tommy’s phone number?’ she asks Audrey.

  Audrey shifts her bum cheek off the seat and reaches into her back pocket. She scrolls through her screen, then turns it to face Helen. Helen reaches her finger towards it and presses at Tommy’s name.

  ‘Ah Jaysus, don’t ring him from my phone,’ Audrey says, ‘he’ll think I’m checking up on him.’

  ‘Shush, shush,’ Helen says, taking the phone and holding it to her ear. The ring tone dials, and dials… then cuts out. She sighs, then takes out her own phone and types in Tommy’s number.

  ‘He never bloody answers his phone anyway,’ Audrey says.

  ‘What do you think, Charlie?’ Helen asks, placing her hand on his shoulder.

  ‘If you’ve got his number and we have a location, let’s get there,’ he says.

  Helen offers Audrey a thin smile.

  ‘You’re good to go.’

  21:55

  Ciara

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ I try to say through my teeth — without moving my lips — as we get into the back of Brendan’s car.

  Ingrid just looks at me and then shakes her head.

  Bleedin’ hell. This is crazy! We’re supposed to be going to Miss Moriarty’s house to say our final goodbye. Not getting a bloody lift home from Brendan. Ingrid better not be changing her mind. I swear to God that if we don’t go through with this tonight, I’ll never be her friend again. She can’t write a pact with me and then not follow through on it.

  ‘Y’okay, girls?’ Brendan says, turning to us in the back. ‘What yis mumbling about?’

  ‘Nothing, Uncle Brendan,’ Ingrid answers, gripping that stupid book to her chest.

  I eyeball her, but she doesn’t turn to look at me.

  ‘When you gonna have time to read that?’ I whisper.

  She shrugs her shoulder.

  ‘Ingrid!’

  She pulls a bizarre funny face at me, then nods her head towards Brendan.

  ‘Shhh,’ she says.

  This is really frustrating. We can’t even talk now. We gotta get out of this car. We gotta talk this out. I knew we shouldn’t have gone to Harriet’s. I knew she would say things that’d make Ingrid change her mind. That bleedin’ book is doing my head in; she’s hugging it as if it’s just saved her life.

  I reach for it, take it from her and then sigh as I open the first page.

  ‘Load of shite,’ I whisper to her.

  She looks over at me for the first time since we got into the car and offers me that tiny half-smile she likes to do every now and then. I’m not sure what she means by it.

  ‘Ingrid,’ I whisper without moving my lips. ‘You’re not planning on reading this bleedin’ thing, are you?’

  She gives me that funny face again, then pushes her lips together to shush me.

  I twist my neck to look out the back window.

  ‘We’re going in the wrong direction, we’re supposed to be going to Miss Moriarty’s,’ I grind through my teeth.

  ‘Jaysus, you two like whispering, don’t yis?’ Brendan says, twisting at his rear-view mirror. ‘What yis talkin’ about?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Uncle Brendan… it’s just girlie talk,’ Ingrid says.

  ‘Talking about me, are yis? Let me guess. Yis heard me in the bathroom. I forgot yis were in Harriet’s room.’

  I laugh. As loudly as I can. So does Ingrid.

  ‘I bloody knew it!’ Brendan says. ‘Listen, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.’

  When I stop laughing I place my hand on Ingrid’s knee. Then she places her hand on top of mine.

  ‘We all do it,’ I say to Brendan. And suddenly I feel a little bit more relaxed, even though we’re heading in the wrong direction.

  I stare out the side window and recognise where we are. The canal road.

  ‘Brendan… if you don’t mind, can you stop at the garage here at the next bridge, I need to pick up something before we go home?’

  He sighs a little, then smiles back at me through the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Go on… don’t be long,’ he says, clicking his indicator. He turns into the garage and parks up in one of the small spaces around the back.

  I cock my head at Ingrid, telling her to follow me and we both get out and walk slowly towards the garage’s shop entrance.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ I say when we’re out of sight of Brendan’s car.

  ‘What d’ye mean?’

  ‘I know it’s part of the pact that we can’t ask each other if we’re changing our minds or not… but you just better not be!’

  Ingrid shrugs her shoulder again… then shakes her head.

  ‘No… no, course not,’ she says.

  ‘Well what about this bloody thing?’ I say, holding up the book.

  Ingrid swipes the book from my hand, then stares at the front cover.

  ‘Ingrid!’ I shout.

  She widens her eyes, shakes her head again.

  ‘No, course I’m not gonna read it. I was just being nice to Harriet. She handed it to me… what was I supposed to do?’

  I breathe out a happy breath. She hasn’t changed her mind. We’re still gonna do this. I think.

  ‘It’s just… I got the feeling you were changing your mind. You were all upset and then suddenly we’re all rolling around Harriet’s bedroom laughing our heads off. It frightened me a little. I thought just because your uncle had a shite that suddenly your life got better. I got worried when you took the book and when you accepted a lift from Brendan.’

  She reaches out and rubs her hand up and down my arm.

  ‘It’s not like that, Ciara,’ she says. ‘I just wanted to be polite, y’know. I didn’t want to tell my uncle I wasn’t accepting his lift. And I didn’t want to tell my cousin I didn’t want to read her book. I was just being nice. Just being me.’

  I breathe a happy breath again. I’m so happy; happy that Ingrid hasn’t changed her mind; happy that our lives are nearly over.

  ‘Okay… what we gonna do now?’ I ask.

  Ingrid squelches up her mouth, then shrugs her shoulders again. She’s always been like this; crap at making decisions. I’m pretty sure I’ve made most of the decisions in her life for her.

  ‘We gotta tell Brendan we don’t want a lift home from him; tell him we’ll be okay from here. Then we can catch a bus back towards Miss Moriarty’s house. Here… leave the book in the car with him.’

  Ingrid sucks air through her teeth, then breathes out slowly through her nose.

  ‘Okay,’ she says, ‘I have an idea.’

  22:05

  Ingrid

  It wasn’t the laughing at Uncle Brendan having a poo that was ch
anging my mind. It was before that. It was Harriet talking to me, telling me we don’t need men; telling me that I’d be stupid to allow Stitch to control all of my feelings; telling me that if I read her book then I might not feel stupid every time somebody calls me Fishfingers at school.

  The pooing didn’t change anything. All that did was make me laugh — really, really hard. Harder than I have laughed in ages.

  Then, when the laughing stopped, I still had that pain in my belly; still had the dark thoughts going round and round in my head. That’s the worst of it. When I return to the pain and to the dark feelings after they’ve gone away for a little while, that pain and those feelings always seem to be worse… deeper… heavier. It’s like when I get high from laughing or something, the downer after that is so hard to take. It makes me think that I should never get high; that I should never laugh, never try to enjoy life. Because when I do, I know that coming down from that is painful. I could feel it as I was getting into Uncle Brendan’s car. I was returning to sadness and heartache after laughing non-stop for two minutes. And it hurt. It hurt really bad.

  That’s why I agreed to commit suicide, I think. I can’t even enjoy laughing for crying out loud. Why would I want to be alive?

  ‘C’mon,’ I say, dragging at Ciara’s elbow. We both run into the tiny garage shop. ‘Excuse me, do you have a pen I could borrow?’ I ask the man behind the counter.

  He stares at us, then points towards the Lotto stand at the end of the shop counter.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. I turn to the tiny desk at the Lotto stand and open the book on top of it before snatching at a cheap pen that’s attached to a small chain.

  Ciara squints her eyes as I write.

  I love you Harriet,

  Ingrid. x

  ‘Okay,’ I say, slapping the book closed. ‘Come on.’

  We race each other out to the car.

  ‘Here, Uncle Brendan, give this back to Harriet,’ I say after I snatch the passenger door open. ‘Tell her I’m sorry. We’re eh… we’re going to make our own way home from here, okay.’