by John Marrs
It had been more than two months since someone had tried to bundle her into a van and since she’d accidentally shot Tommy, and there had been no further threatening incidents.
Starting there and then, she decided to make a conscious effort to change. While caution would always prevail, she knew she must learn how to trust people again and not assume any new faces automatically had a hidden agenda.
From behind, she felt the vibrations of feet softly plodding through the sand towards her. Her gut reaction was to still scramble to her feet defensively, but this time she didn’t act on it and instead, she remained in place.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I saw this little romper suit in K-Mart I had to buy for the baby,’ came Jane’s enthusiastic voice. She sat beside Savannah and removed a variety of baby clothes from a bag. ‘Well maybe that was a white lie,’ she continued, ‘I might’ve accidentally bought all these things as well.’
‘Thanks Jane, but you shouldn’t have,’ smiled Savannah.
‘Well, you don’t have anyone else to spoil you.’
‘Why are you so nice to me? You hardly know me.’ Savannah said, not out of suspicion, but genuine interest.
Jane paused and gazed out towards the horizon. ‘For selfish reasons, I suppose. I spent fifteen years as a mum and now nobody needs me. I feel kind of, well, surplus to requirements, I suppose. I’m sorry if you think I’m interfering.’
‘No, you’re not. It’s . . . nice that somebody cares.’
Savannah closed her eyes, tilted her head towards sun, and took a deep breath.
‘What’s wrong, love? Are you a little lost today?’
Savannah paused and put her hand on Jane’s. ‘You know what? I don’t think I am anymore.’
Neither Savannah nor Jane was aware of the figure standing way behind them under the shadow of the lifeguard station, or knew they’d been following her for much of the last two days.
CHAPTER 32
‘Sit down,’ said Matty, pointing to a chair in the corner of the room. ‘Please.’
Tommy obliged, but kept his hand pressed on his aching ribs, still unable to breathe normally following Declan’s swift blow. He watched cautiously as Matty removed a washbag from under his bed, unzipped it, and poured out a dozen blister packs and plastic tubs of tablets. Then he took another and did the same.
Matty sat down and leaned his back against the wall. ‘I’ve got problems with my heart, Tommy,’ he explained quietly. ‘I was born with a congenital heart defect, or to give it its proper name, a complete atrioventricular canal defect. I had a transplant three years back, but this new one’s not keen on its new home.’
Matty lifted his shirt to reveal a long, raised vertical scar on his chest.
‘He was waiting for another donor before we left Ireland,’ muttered Declan.
‘But the chances of getting a second match are pretty slim,’ Matty continued. ‘I’ve been in and out of hospital my whole life, and I’ve had enough. I told Declan that I wanted to see the world before it was time to leave, but the only way I could afford it was if we robbed a bank. It was supposed to be a joke until, well, we robbed the next best thing.’
‘No one was supposed to get hurt, that wasn’t the intention,’ added Declan. ‘We only found out about yer man’s death when we read it in the paper. And we only stole what we needed, we didn’t take the piss.’
‘We were pretty mortified,’ continued Matty. ‘Declan’s brotherreckons the gardaí couldn’t identify us from the CCTV pictures, so for the time being we’re safe. But all it would take is a tip-off and who knows what might happen.’
‘Wouldn’t another transplant work?’ asked Tommy, eyeing Matty as he placed his tablets back inside the washbags.
‘I’m sick of waiting and I’m sick of these drugs, Tommy. They stop me dying, but they also stop me living. So when my body gives up on me, I want to go out with a smile on my face and my best mate close by. Then I’ll know I’ve lived a life.’
The room fell silent for a moment before Tommy spoke again.
‘I didn’t call them . . . the police. I mean, I wanted to, and I even Googled their number in Dundalk and I was this close to doing it, but I bottled it at the last minute. I just wanted to scare you into leaving.’
Matty and Declan let out long, relieved breaths.
‘Why do you want us out of here so badly?’ asked Matty.
‘Why do you reckon?’
‘Because we tease you?’
‘You do more than that and you know it.’
‘But only because you treated us like scum the day we arrived.’
‘Yeah, but you were trying your luck to stay here for free. But yes, I know, I was patronising and I’m sorry for that. People like you just . . . “fit in” without having to do anything. It took me weeks to get to know everyone, and that’s only because I work here so they’re forced to get on with me. And I got . . . well, jealous.’
‘Tommy, everyone here loves you, man,’ Declan replied. ‘You just need to lighten up a bit.’ Tommy offered an embarrassed smile.
‘So what do you say, shall we call a truce?’ Declan continued. ‘I mean, I can’t guarantee we’re not going to rib you now and again, but just give as good as you get, man.’
Tommy nodded and shook hands with Matty and Declan, then passed Matty’s wallet back to its rightful owner. Matty took the newspaper cutting out and ripped it to shreds, letting the pieces float into the bin. And he hoped now that someone else was in on their secret, Declan would have someone to talk to when the inevitable happened.
Because Matty’s body was quietly telling him the inevitable wasn’t far away.
CHAPTER 33
Zak Stanley knew something peculiar had just happened to him, but he couldn’t process what it was.
He turned around slowly to face Ruth and felt a foreign body protruding from his neck. As his fingers fumbled around for the source of his discomfort, he felt little pain until he made contact with her knitting needles. Then he understood what the crazy bitch who was gawping at him in terror had just done and his eyes opened wider than they ever had before.
Instinctively Zak panicked and yanked the needles out, but that caused air to rush in and blood to pour violently from the small but deep puncture wounds. His legs began to buckle beneath him as he placed the palm of his hand on his neck to stem the flow, but it was coming too thick and fast from his jugular, pouring down his T-shirt and soaking his chest and underwear.
Zak looked around desperately for help and tried to scream but no sound came. He stared at Ruth, his eyes frantically searching hers for mercy. But Ruth remained transfixed by Zak and his urgent need for her; she was the only person Zak Stanley was turning to in his moment of need. Her eyes began to well up and she smiled.
Zak became rapidly weaker and struggled for breath until his legs finally gave way and he hit the sidewalk, knees first. Ruth knelt down by his side and stroked his hair.
‘I told you we could be friends,’ she said gently, pulling away the hand he held to his wound. Fearing she might hurt him again, Zak made an attempt to crawl away from her, until she overpowered him by pushing him onto this back then straddling him, holding his arms by his side. Zak was too sluggish to fight her off.
‘It’s okay, you’ll be okay,’ Ruth continued, then she lay by his side, placing her head on his damp chest. She could hear his heartbeat growing fainter and fainter until, after a couple of minutes, it finally rested in silence.
She lifted her head and then slowly placed her lips upon his; Zak’s final, bloody kiss would be Ruth’s first.
‘I’m a good person, Zak, I really am,’ she whispered, and hoped Zak understood that now.
THREE WEEKS EARLIER – VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA
Ruth picked out a pair of snow-wash jeans, folded them neatly and placed them inside her half-full suitcase.
Next came her supermarket-brand underwear, which she rolled up and placed inside the inner lining of the case, followed by two pa
irs of sneakers and some high heels. Finally when everything was inside, she took the washbag from her chest of drawers and unzipped it.
‘Make-up!’ she said out loud, realising that if she wanted Zak Stanley to see her at her best at their first lunch together, she’d need to add some colour to her face. But with only a paltry selection of her own, she decided to borrow from her mother’s drawer of lipsticks and blushers.
She grabbed a handful of brightly coloured cosmetics and glanced at her mother’s body lying under a duvet on her bed. The blood that had flowed from the gash in her head had pooled on the pillow, and over the last half a day had gradually turned brown. She presumed her brother Kevin’s pillow would look the same. Ruth tilted her head to one side and reminded herself it was their own fault it had come to this.
The previous night’s taunting from Kevin had felt relentless, mocking her decision to travel to LA, laughing about how Zak would react if he ever met her and how she would be scampering back home with her between behind her legs by the end of the week.
‘What do you mean if Zak ever met me?’ Ruth asked Kevin, suddenly. ‘I told you I won the competition. I’m having dinner with him. I am meeting him.’
‘Yeah, about that,’ Kevin giggled. ‘You didn’t win shit. I was messing around with you – didn’t you notice the name I gave his manager? Paul Mollegh? Say it out loud Ruthy and it sounds like “pull my leg.” I told you to leave my computer alone and you didn’t so you needed to be taught a lesson.’
Without premeditation, Ruth lifted the dog-shaped stone doorstop and crashed it against Kevin’s head with such force that he was dead before he even hit the floor. When their mother appeared from the bathroom to see what the loud thud was, it took three blows before her face finally stopped twitching. That night, Ruth enjoyed the best sleep of her life.
Two days later, she padlocked her suitcase, put her plane ticket and passport in her jacket pocket and locked the front door, making her way to the waiting taxi and imagining her new life with Zak Stanley.
CHAPTER 34
TODAY
Guests at the hostel had wandered en masse up to Santa Monica to spend a late afternoon at Ye Olde King’s Head.
The British-themed pub was a favourite of ex-pats and tourists who’d make the pilgrimage to the tavern’s two bars and attached shop to drink or stock up on British biscuits, sweets, Heinz beans and Marmite – the latter being a commodity Americans had yet to embrace.
Photographs of celebrity visitors like David Beckham, Sienna Miller, Liam Gallagher and Kelly Osbourne adorned the walls surrounding a karaoke machine, a DJ booth and television screen with scrolling lyrics. Tables contained pitchers of Boddington’s Ale and Fuller’s London Pride, drained pints of Guinness, pencils and notepaper to nominate potential singers and their chosen tracks.
Tommy thought Matty and Declan’s tuneless rendition of U2’s ‘Where the Streets Have No Name’ was a clichéd Irish choice, but in the spirit of their truce, he kept his opinion to himself.
‘Go on there, Tommy,’ yelled a sweating Declan. ‘Get your arse up there and give us a song.’
Tommy shook his head. ‘I can’t sing to save my life.’
‘Who cares, we’re more Shane McGowan than Bono.’
‘Ah come on, you big bollocks,’ chipped in Matty, and pointed to Jake. ‘Drag yer man up there with you.’
Tommy paused for a moment and turned to his friend. ‘Do you fancy it? I will if you will.’
‘No mate, my singing days are long gone.’
‘You used to sing? Full of surprises, aren’t you?’
Jake’s heart began to beat a little faster at his error. ‘No, no, I meant I’m terrible.’
‘Then you’ll make me look good!’ Tommy replied, and grabbed Jake’s arm to lead him to the song choice book. But Jake yanked it back.
‘I said no, alright?’ he snarled. ‘You can make a fool of yourself, but leave me out of it.’
Jake slammed his half-empty glass back on the table, threw open the door and stormed out, leaving behind a confused Matty, Declan and Tommy. Jake barged past Nicole coming in through the door, and she made immediate eye contact with a surprised Tommy, who could tell immediately by her anxious glance that something was wrong.
‘What are you doing back here?’ he began.
‘I need your help,’ Nicole replied. ‘Can we go somewhere quieter?’
CHAPTER 35
Even as the red mist was descending upon him, Jake was aware he was overreacting, but he couldn’t batten down the hatches on his temper in time.
Anger gave way to panic, and the need to leave the pub became of the utmost importance. He walked briskly back to the hostel; everyone he knew was in the bar he’d left behind, so maybe he could gain some peace and quiet and hopefully, some perspective.
TWO YEARS EARLIER – LONDON
Stuart awoke, slumped in the armchair in his apartment where he’d fallen asleep.
The previous night had been the worst of his life, and his brain had reacted to such high levels of stress by shutting itself down. He’d fallen asleep in his clothes and hadn’t woken once in almost nine hours. It was now 10.30 a.m.
Zak was the first person who crossed his mind as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. Over the next few minutes, Stuart called him several times to no avail, then remembered Zak would probably be airborne and en route to his next European premiere. In his heart of hearts, he’d resigned himself to their covert relationship having ended – the team Zak employed to advise and protect their Hollywood golden goose would’ve seen to that.
Stuart picked up the television remote control and hesitantly turned on Sky News. The news ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen contained nothing about him being caught with drugs, and for a moment he wondered if manager Geri Garland had unleashed her infamous damage-control monkeys and they’d worked through the night to quash the story.
He popped an extra-strong Nespresso capsule into the machine and poured himself a black coffee. But as the noise of the machine faded and the final drips fell from the nozzle, the newscaster’s words chilled him.
‘Now, following the death of actress Katie Begley earlier this morning after an apparent accidental drugs overdose, we head over to a live press conference which is just about to begin in north London with TV’s Geri Garland.’
Stuart froze at both the news of Katie’s death and the appearance of Geri as she confidently stepped towards a podium in what looked like her record company headquarters. His eyes widened further when he saw the rest of Lightning Strikes accompanying her.
‘I have a statement to make on behalf of Lightning Strikes, Star People and IMG Records,’ Geri began gravely. ‘Firstly, we would like to extend our deepest sympathies to Katie’s family and friends . . . we’re all thinking of you. Now, I was as shocked as anyone last night by the photographs and video footage of Stuart Reynolds, apparently caught with drugs and leaving a clearly poorly Katie when she needed him most. I have since discovered from Stuart’s bandmates that his drug use was not a one-off incident, but an ongoing problem he has had for some months.’
Stuart’s coffee mug fell to the floor and shattered.
‘Despite many attempts and several interventions, Stuart has refused to tackle his issues which culminated in last night’s events,’ Geri continued. ‘I would also like to take this opportunity to point out that I personally was unaware of Stuart’s substance abuse. Lightning Strikes are a band with many, many, young fans. And while we all love Stuart dearly, this is something we all feel we cannot just gloss over. So it is with regret that Stuart’s position in Lightning Strikes has been terminated with immediate effect. We wish him all the best in recovering from his addiction and we will provide him with the help he needs if he asks for it. That’s all we have to say.’
Geri nodded her appreciation to the scrum of reporters who attempted to ask extra questions as she left the stage.
Stuart remained rooted to his kitchen floor, unsure of wh
ere to turn.
CHAPTER 36
TODAY
The beach was quiet, with the exception of construction workers in the distance building temporary bleachers for the following day’s volleyball tournament.
The lifeguard had long since boarded up the windows to his station and headed home, so Nicole and Tommy sat on the wooden ramp, their legs dangling below them, casting shadows onto the sand. Two crushed Nytol mixed with parmesan cheese and sprinkled on Eric’s pasta had given Nicole at least a few of hours of respite from his all-seeing eyes before they opened again.
‘I knew there was more to your trip than you were letting on,’ began Tommy when Nicole finished filling him in on the events of the last few days.
‘I’m sorry,’ replied Nicole, shaking her head, ‘Eric didn’t want me to tell anyone, and now I know why, considering what was at stake.’
‘Why did he never let on Mrs Baker was his mother?’
‘She mentioned they’d had some falling out over money and she’d cut him out of her life, but she didn’t really go into detail and it didn’t feel right to ask. Now I wish I had – maybe I could’ve put a few pieces together earlier.’
‘Didn’t she recognise him when he was working in the hospital?’
‘Her brain tumour meant she couldn’t see or hear properly, and she wasn’t his patient, so their paths never had a reason to cross.’
Nicole rooted around her jeans pocket and passed Tommy the small velvet pouch of diamonds. ‘Shit!’ he blurted out when he looked inside.