I shrugged. “Something to do with his clients?”
“His diary maybe, he’s supposed to keep that locked up.”
“Nah, he wouldn’t leave it in there, in case it was stolen.”
I bent down too, my head next to Declan’s, and we both continued to stare as if we could see through the leather with some sort of superpower vision. I had no idea how long we’d been like that when the kitchen door opened.
We both jumped up and turned to see Ruben, his brows furrowed together in the middle of his forehead as he watched us.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked as he ran a hand through his dark hair and swaggered over to us.
“Wondering what’s really in the bag,” Declan replied. “And why Dad keeps it locked up.”
Ruben’s face broke into a smile and I realised how much I’d missed seeing it. He was a handsome boy with dark brown hair and eyes to match, but his permanent scowl tended to take away from his looks.
“Want to break into it?” he asked and wiggled his eyebrows.
Declan and I jumped back a step.
“No,” I gasped. “Ivan the Fucking Terrible would kill us.”
“Yeah,” Declan agreed. “He’d go ballistic.”
“Who’s gonna tell him?”
Ruben sauntered over to the drawer next to the cooker and pulled out a knife and a metal skewer and held them up to show us.
“I can unlock it and lock it back up with these,” he said with a casual one-shouldered shrug. “He’ll never know.”
“No!” Declan put a hand on Ruben’s arm. “We shouldn’t.”
“You two were the ones staring at it. You’ve got me interested now. Come on shift out of the way.”
“Rube,” I said softly. “I’m not really sure about this.”
He threw me his regular scowl and pushed in between us. “Stop being a pair of pussies.”
Within seconds we heard the quiet click of the lock and Ruben took a step back.
“What now?” I asked.
Declan and Ruben looked at me expectantly.
“No way, I’m not doing it. You can, you’re the eldest.”
“No, I’m not, Danny is by two minutes.”
“Well we can hardly call him and get him to come over, can we?” Ruben said and pushed me forward. “You’re the only girl and dad’s favourite.”
“No, I’m not, Danny is.”
“No, she’s not, Danny is.”
Declan and I grinned at each other and then turned back to see Ruben roll his eyes at us.
“Ah fuck it,” he said and snatched open the leather strap that folded over the top of the case. He then pulled it open by its handles and poked his head inside. Within seconds he’d thrown the case back onto the table and turned to look at us with pure horror in his eyes.
“What is it?” Declan asked. “Someone’s head or something.”
I shuddered, surely, I wouldn’t have to deal with two severed heads in one week.
“Nope.” Ruben gave a hard swallow and put one hand on top of his head and the other flat against his stomach like he felt queasy. “Bloody dirty old bastard.”
“What?” I pushed forward and looked inside the open bag. “Shit.”
“Oh God, please don’t tell me it’s dirty photos of mum,” Declan groaned.
Ruben and I both shook our heads and Ruben wiped his palms on his jeans.
“Okay, I’m going in.” Declan took his turn to step forward and study what had Ruben and I so horrified.
His eyes grew wider and wider as he looked in the bag for a few seconds before he snapped it shut and pointed at it.
“Rube, lock it back up and none of us are to ever speak of this again. We don’t tell Danny or Toby, particularly Toby because he’s got a big mouth and will tell Dad.”
He held his hand out, palm down and I slapped mine on top, then Ruben did the same.
“A promise is a promise according to the Dixon family rule,” we all chanted before slapping our other hands on top
“Just one thing,” Declan said, as Ruben started to lock the case with the knife.
“What?” I asked the same time as I considered whether it was too early to have a brandy.
“Why do you think Dad’s got a plastic hairy fanny in his briefcase?”
Men tend to use tongues like a mini penis. Instead give him a new mental image; Ice Cream Cone – it’s not a good idea to add a flake.
* * *
Charlie
I’d had a really long twelve hour shift at work because the crack-head singer of a band recording their album couldn’t remember his words, and as I wanted to move up to being a sound technician, Tom, one of my bosses and member of Dirty Riches who owned Musica Records, had suggested I work alongside the producer. Tom, particularly, had been good to me and I really didn’t want to let him down, so I’d stayed until the bitter end when the singer had finally nailed a better than mediocre performance.
When I walked through the door, all I wanted to do was sink on the sofa with a can of beer and watch mindless shit on the TV, but when I saw my brother trying to tidy up Teresa’s shit from his wheelchair, I almost turned back around and went out again.
“This place looks like a fucking squat,” I said as I watched Johnny from the doorway. “What the hell has she been doing?”
Johnny picked up what looked like a skirt but could have been a belt and shrugged. “She was getting ready to go out.”
“And she decided to do that in the lounge instead of her bedroom.”
I sighed heavily and began to pick up the rest of the discarded clothes and shoes that were flung around the floor.
“She was in a good mood today. I didn’t want to say anything to change that.”
My brother closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath ready for my onslaught of abuse about our mother. I knew the arguments and sniping between me and Teresa wore him down, but I simply couldn’t see his viewpoint.
She was a waste of space and time as a mother and had been since Johnny was only six years old and his dad had been killed in a motorbike accident. Pete and she weren’t together at the time, because Teresa’s drinking had already cocked that relationship up, but she still acted like the grief-stricken girlfriend at the funeral. She’d collapsed in the aisle at the crematorium, even though Pete was with someone else by that time. She’s always been a drunk and wasn’t the best homemaker or mother, but at least we were fed and reasonably clean, but once Pete left Teresa got worse. We were two neglected kids who only got a decent feed at the weekends when Johnny went to stay with Pete and I went to stay with my grandma as Pete wasn’t my dad – I had no idea who my dad was and was pretty sure Teresa didn’t either.
At Pete’s wake she got so wasted at the pub, she forgot she’d left me and Johnny to play in the kid’s area and went off with some bloke who’d known Pete from school. Thankfully, I knew my grandma’s telephone number and got Pete’s girlfriend, Sharon, to call her and she came and picked us up. We stayed with her for three days before Teresa realised she was missing something and found the voice message from Grandma that said she had me and Johnny. Teresa came to get us and went ballistic with Grandma, she called her every vile name she could think of, eventually dragged us home and told us we wouldn’t see Grandma again; and we didn’t. She died of a heart attack six weeks later, but neither Mum nor Johnny and I went to the funeral – even the loss of her mother couldn’t stop Teresa from being a stubborn, drunken idiot.
I knew it wasn’t Johnny’s fault and didn’t have the energy to argue with him, so I silently helped him to clear up Teresa’s shit. Once everything was in a fairly neat pile on the end of the sofa, I picked it all up and took it to her room. It was when I saw more clothes, wet towels, empty wine bottles and beer cans which littered the floor, that I lost it and threw her pile of stuff onto the unmade bed and shouted for Johnny.
“What the fuck’s wrong?” he asked as he wheeled up to the doorway and stopped on the threshol
d.
“It’s a wonder she doesn’t have rats living in here. She could have for all we know.”
Johnny scrubbed a hand down his face and groaned. “I’ll tell her when she gets home that she’s got to tidy it up.”
“No! You have to tell her to move out and get her own place that she can keep like a shit hole. This is your home, Johnny, you don’t deserve to have it made a mess of like this; she’s already made a damn mess of your future.”
Johnny’s eyes widened as he stared up at me, his hands on his wheels. “Okay, calm the fuck down and I’ve told you before, I’m not making her move out.”
“Why the fuck not?” I threw my hands up in the air totally infuriated by him and his softly, softly approach to the woman who gave birth to us.
“She’s our mum, Charlie, that’s why. I don’t want to be with her like she was with Grandma, because no matter what you say she still regrets that they weren’t speaking.”
“That’s shit, there’s not one ounce of regret in that woman’s body. Not for being estranged from Grandma, not for being an alcoholic, and certainly not for being the crappiest mother on the planet.” I walked over to him and leaned down and held onto the arms of his chair and got my face into his space. “You are in this thing because of her, don’t you get that?”
Johnny nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know,” he replied and sounded much more controlled than I felt. “It happened and you also have to stop blaming yourself. There’s only one person to blame and it’s not you or Mum.”
I let go of his chair and took a step back. I drew in a deep breath and hung my head.
“I should never have dropped her call that night,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as my guilt flooded back as I remembered that night as though it were yesterday and not two years ago.
“And then you might be in this thing,” Johnny cried and smacked at the side of a wheel. “Now that would be a fucking tragedy.”
“Oh, and you being in it isn’t?” I asked, my voice cracked as a pain stabbed at my chest as though a knife had been pushed inside and twisted around. Anger and grief swam through my veins at the devastation of my brother’s life. Him being in a wheelchair was the greatest of tragedies as far as I was concerned, and I was partly to blame.
It was my deepest regret that I had chosen not to answer Teresa’s call and had let her ring Johnny instead. I knew I would have probably handled things differently; handled her differently. I’d have dragged her drunken arse out of there and told her she’d got everything she deserved, but not Johnny, no, Johnny the hero felt as though he should defend her honour and try and fight a man twice his age and size and ended up with a spinal injury for his efforts.
“It’s not as great a tragedy as if it’d been you,” Johnny replied and wheeled closer to me. “I can cope with this thing, you wouldn’t. You’d be miserable and depressed, and you’d hate it.”
“Don’t you?” I asked incredulously.
“Of course, I fucking do, but I make the best of it. I’ve got on with my life and use it to my advantage.” He grinned up at me. “How many other paraplegics do you know get as much pussy as I do?”
“I don’t know any others,” I replied with the barest hint of a smile. “Which kind of makes it a shit point.”
“Whatever, the point that is valid is the one where you would be living in a fucking black hole if this was you and I couldn’t cope with that. I’d rather be managing and living the best life I can in my situation with a big brother who is happy and enjoying his life.”
“Yeah, well that’s debatable, too.”
I flopped down onto the edge of Teresa’s bed and scanned the room. It was sordid and filthy. Not only was the floor covered in shit, but every available surface too, and I was pretty sure I could write my name in the dust on her TV screen.
“You take care of me, Charlie,” Johnny sighed. “You help to keep me going, keep me well, and I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to do that for you, so stop fucking blaming yourself and her and make the best of what we’ve got.”
I raised my eyebrows and silently questioned his thoughts on what we had. Yes, he’d provided us with a nice bungalow in a decent part of town, we both had decent jobs and a few quid in our pockets, but we had the mother from hell and neither of us had a father figure in our lives for over fifteen years.
“We’re doing okay,” Johnny stressed, his voice quiet yet confident. “Forget about her and this mess, but I promise I’ll speak to her about the mess, because apart from anything, I damn well hate rats.”
I smiled and let out a relieved breath that we’d come through another row about Teresa without coming to blows, which was all on Johnny, who somehow always managed to remain calm when we discussed her.
“Why don’t you go out and see your pretty girl?” Johnny said as he picked up a pair of boxer shorts and held them at arm’s length. “Who the hell do these belong to?”
I glanced at them. “Not mine.”
“No, mine neither. She must have taken them as a souvenir from some bloke.”
“Unless she’s had him back here.”
I was suddenly glad I’d put locks on mine and Johnny’s bedroom doors. They were supposed to keep Teresa away from our stuff so she couldn’t sell it for booze, but if she had invited random blokes back when we weren’t around, I was even gladder.
“Whatever, as long as she’s being careful,” he sighed and threw the boxer shorts back onto the floor. “So, why don’t you go out?”
“Because I’m knackered and she’s out with the guy she works with tonight.”
Johnny made a strange groaning noise and stared at me.
“What?”
“You’re not bothered she’s out with another fella. I thought you liked her?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s the dentist she works for and he’s gay, so I’m fine with it.”
I was fine with it, who the hell was I to dictate to any woman who she did or didn’t go out with anyway, apart from which she wasn’t my girlfriend – yet.
“You could join them.”
“Why are you so eager to get rid of me?” I asked and pushed up from the bed. “It can’t be a girl coming around because like that’s ever stopped you.”
Johnny shrugged. “I only want you to be happy bro, and I think your pretty girl would make you happy tonight.”
I smiled wistfully. He was right, she really would. Despite being busy and thoroughly irritated by the dick head lead singer, I’d had a grin on my face all day as all I’d thought about had been Willow. There were things I needed to talk to her about, basically about my crippled brother and alcoholic mother, but once I had I was going to ask her to be my girlfriend.
She was sweet, funny, and gorgeous, so why wouldn’t I want to ask her? Okay, our sex life hadn’t got off to the most auspicious start, but we were new, it could often take time to get to know someone and their body. Bomber’s dad’s fucking Elvis head hadn’t helped though.
“Give her a call at least,” Johnny said, manoeuvring his chair out of Teresa’s room. “I’m going to ring Si and Lucas and see if they fancy a PS night.”
“You’d be okay if I went out?”
I felt a little guilty at going out again, particularly as I’d stayed out all night a few nights before. He would never admit that he needed me, and he was at work all day, but he was my little brother and it was my job to look after him, so I hated leaving him alone too often in case something happened. I hadn’t been there that night; I’d chosen to stay in the pub and leave him to go and help my mother – and no the irony wasn’t lost on me - so the least I could do was make sure he was okay now.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Now fucking ring her. If I wasn’t stuck in this thing, you’d be out of that door desperate to get your dick wet, so just do it.”
“Johnny!” I hissed. “Don’t talk about her like that, and for your information, you’re still my brother whether you’re in a chair or not.”
He gave me a grin and a salu
te. “I hear ya, now go and see if you can join her.”
As he wheeled down the hall toward the lounge, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and within seconds I could hear him talking to his best mate, Simon. Happy that he seemed happy, I went to my own clean and tidy room and hit the button for Willow’s number, the one that I’d changed to say ‘Pretty Girl’ Johnny’s nickname for her that seemed to have stuck.
When she hadn’t answered after about five or six rings, I was about to end the call as I didn’t want to leave a voicemail, because I had no idea what to say, but then she answered, her voice breathy and anxious.
“Hi, sorry I didn’t hear it ring at first, it’s so noisy in the pub and then it was a major operation to get out of the door because some woman decided to walk at two miles an hour in front of me.”
I grinned and flopped down onto my bed. “Willow, it’s fine.”
“I know, but I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you. Are you okay?”
She sounded tentative and I wondered if maybe she was as invested in us seeing each other as I was, I hoped so anyway.
“Yeah I’m good, had a shit long day and it didn’t get better when I got home.”
“Oh no, what’s happened?”
“Oh, nothing major, but my brother persuaded me that hearing your voice might cheer me up.”
As soon as I said it, I grimaced. It sounded needy and pathetic, but when I heard a cute little giggle on the other end of the line, I relaxed.
“Well I hope it has,” Willow replied. “So, what are you doing now?”
I screwed my eyes tight together and I wondered whether I should tell her why I’d called, or whether it would seem stalkerish.
“Nothing really,” I heaved out, as I’d decided that to hear her voice would have to be enough.
“Sooo, how about you come and meet us. James wouldn’t mind, he’d love to meet you and I’d like it if you did.”
“Yes,” I blurted out. “Yes, I’d love to. Where are you?”
I was pretty sure Willow gave a sigh of relief, but I wasn’t really listening as I pushed myself up off my bed and thought about a quick shower.
The Big Ohhh Page 7