Comet

by Andie J Fessey

  Watching them intently, swooping and soaring throughout the air above him, it appeared to Daniel as though they were dancing.

  I wish I could fly.

  Continuing to gaze at the gulls, he brought his stare earthwards as he heard another cry, this one for certain coming from the park.

  It’s not a bird, it’s Wally!

  Rushing to the park, he stumbled as he reached the gate, reaching out with his hand to grab one of the railings to prevent him from falling.

  Stumbling along the path leading into the heart of the park, he turned the corner of dense bushes and stopped in his tracks at the sight befalling his young eyes.

  “Get off him!” He yelled, as loud as his lungs allowed.

  The gangling, skinny girl held Wally on the ground.

  Wearing a drab grey dress, as shapeless as a sack, her thick, ginger hair hung limply and un-styled as her legs sat astride his shoulders.

  “Yer had yer brekkie yet lad?” She said sneering, leaning across the ground, grabbing at a handful of the mud nearby.

  She scooped the handful and moved her hand, so it rested directly above the boy’s face.

  “Bugger off,” he said, through gritted teeth.

  He refused to cry, suffering enough beatings from his Father, this Nelson would not reduce him to tears.

  “What did you say?” She demanded, ceasing her assault.

  “I said bugger off.”

  “Yer cheeky little bastard. Maurice, get me some dog shit!” She called to her brother.

  “Yer going to have a lovely tasty brekkie yer little bastard,” she said, staring at him with a snarl upon her freckled face.

  “Leave him!” Daniel cried out.

  Turning her head, Nicola saw the little figure of Daniel nearby.

  “What did you say to me, Spaz?”

  “I said leave him.”

  “Why don’t you make me?”

  He stood there shaking and scared, but not being prepared to stand by whilst the Nelson’s humiliated his friend.

  “You’re a bully,” he said.

  “So, what are you going to do about it?” she asked, smiling.

  “I’ll tell!”

  “Oh yeah and who are you going to tell?”

  Daniel did not notice Maurice Nelson edging closer to him.

  “’Cos, you won’t be telling your Dah will you? ‘Cos, you haven’t got one, have you?” She said goading him, her mouth grimaced into a smirk.

  “You, you, you don’t talk about my Dad,” he said, his voice breaking, as he felt tears forming, the anger surging through his frail body.

  “Why? What you going to do?” She demanded, relaxing her grip on Wally, turning her attention to him.

  “Do yer think you’re hard or something?”

  Maurice edged closer to him, his moon shaped face grinning, sat under his shock of hair.

  “I don’t have to be hard to tell,” Daniel replied, “you’re a bully Nicola and you should leave him alone!”

  “Is that right?” she asked, standing, “Maybe we’ll make you have an extra special breakfast instead. Grab ‘im!”

  Maurice lunged at him, pushing his chest with outstretched palms.

  He had no way of escaping, falling onto the ground, his brace digging in to his leg.

  The pain running through his leg caused him to cry in pain.

  “Aww, poor baby. Did you hurt your spazzy little leg then?”

  The pain in his leg caused his face to contour into a grimace of anguish, but he felt resolute not to cry, at least at not in front of a Nelson.

  “Lost your tongue Spaz? Maybe some special breakfast down your gob will help loosen it up,” she threatened, kneeling next to him.

  “Get away from him!” A voice shouted.

  Looking up, she saw the figure of Robert appear from the side of the bushes. Maurice looked in his direction.

  “Get him our Maurice,” she instructed, Maurice obeying and walking slowly to Robert.

  “C’mon then,” Robert said, bringing his hands, clenched into tight fists in front of him.

  “You’re joking aren’t you Bennett? I’ll break your bloody neck.”

  “You reckon, do you?” Robert asked.

  “What? I’m twice as big as you!” Maurice asked, looking around the floor to locate something to tackle Robert with.

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” Robert said, adopting a boxing stance.

  “Bastard, I’ll have you,” Maurice said, moving slowly towards him.

  He stopped in his tracks, as a stone hurtled through the air, hitting him on the side of his temple.

  The impact caused him to flinch, bringing his hand to his temple and causing a deep cut, blood already pouring along the side of his face.

  “Oww!” he cried, bringing his hand away from the cut, discovering his fingers were coated in crimson blood.

  “I’m bleeding! Nic I’m bleeding!” He yelled, placing his hand to his temple before examining it.

  “Who did that?” His sister called, a second before a stone struck her on her shoulder.

  She grabbed at her shoulder as another, larger pebble collided with her leg.

  Moving to his sister, Maurice stopped as a pebble flew from the bushes at him, missing his face by inches.

  “I’m telling!” He cried at the unseen assailant hid within the bushes, before turning and fleeing away.

  “Maurice! Where are you...?” Nicola began, before being interrupted as another pebble struck her on her neck.

  Running after her brother, she grabbed at her neck in pain, before grabbing him by the arm, running passed him.

  “Yer dead. Yer all dead!” She cried, crouching as another pebble flew over her head.

  Wally, now on his feet, picked some stones from the floor, before throwing them at the retreating figures.

  “I hate them,” he said, launching stone after stone in their direction, each falling way short of his intended targets.

  “Are you alright our Danny?” Robert asked, concern in his voice, as he rushed to his brother.

  “Yes,” Daniel replied, trying to keep his voice from breaking, “they were going to put dog poo in our mouths.”

  “Yer what?” Jimmy asked, stepping from the bushes, his home-made catapult in his hand, “the dirty, nasty gits.”

  “Come on,” Robert said, helping his brother to his feet, “let’s all get home, before the rain gets here.”

  Chapter Seven

  They slowly approached their home located on Field Lane, dusk descending upon the city, the early evening air mildly cooler than it was throughout the course of the day.

  Dark clouds gathered and filled the sky above, Comet pulling the cart behind him with the same assiduous gait he walked all day.

  In due course Archie, pulled the cart to a stop in front of the large wooden gates, facing onto the front of the premises.

  “Stay here boy, we’re home now” he said, slowly climbing from the cart.

  He said the same thing to Comet for the last decade upon arriving home, knowing it would not matter if he said it or not.

  Comet would not move anywhere unless Archie beckoned him to, knowing if he accidently left the brake off, Comet would remain where he stood.

  Stupid bloody van drivers aside.

  He said the words, enjoying conversing with Comet, reassuring him they were home safe and sound. He found himself talking aloud more and more with him these days.

  He walked to the gates, the house within having stood on Field Lane for many years, set aside in its own grounds backing onto the canal.

  A padlock attached to a heavy chain, connected the two gates together.

  Fishing a bunch of keys from the inside pocket of his trench coat, Archie sorted through them until, finding the correct key, he unfastened the padlock, unravelling the chain and one by one, pushing the large gates inwards.

  Walking back out, he took hold of Comets rein before leading him into the yard.

  The centre of t
he yard lay clear of any scrap, this being arranged neatly against various sections of the walls surrounding his property, covered by sheets of thick tarpaulin protecting it from the weather.

  Archie’s late wife Winnie being extremely house proud, he ensured the yard was always in a clean, tidy state, not wishing to receive an earful from her when they met up again in the afterlife.

  Reaching the centre of the yard Archie entered the interior of a spacious shed, whilst Comet stood by patiently, before returning moments later with a huge bundle of hay between his arms, placing it on the floor in front of Comet.

  “Here you go boy, get it down yer.”

  Whilst Comet ate the offered hay, Archie walked to the side of the house, to where a tap protruded from the wall.

  Placing a deep, battered bucket underneath, he turned it on, standing by as it filled.

  Once it became filled nearly to the brim, Archie turned the tap off before kneeling, taking a grip of the bucket and dragging it to where Comet stood patiently.

  “I don’t know about old Percy retiring Comet,” he said, standing and placing his hands at the base of his aching back, “I could do with a bit of that myself.”

  Walking slowly across the yard, he pushed the gates to a close before wrapping the chain around them, securing the padlock back.

  Returning to Comet, he glanced up to the bay bedroom window facing onto yard, a ritual he performed each evening upon returning home.

  It remained empty.

  No figure stood there, no nets were drawn back.

  Winnie not standing there as she always did, giving him a wave before coming downstairs to greet him and serve him his tea, or supper, dependent on how busy his day had been.

  Sighing sadly, he stroked Comet, allowing memories to return, staring around the yard to the rear, where stood Comet’s stall.

  He felt proud of the stall he built with his own hands years before, part of a two sectioned one storey building constructed of solid bricks with a roof constructed of galvanised steel strips, wood and felt.

  It remained standing solid for over a quarter of a century.

  He also felt proud in all that time, both when Sovereign lived in there and now Comet, there was not so much as one single drop of rain fall into it.

  The left side comprised of Comets stall, the right side being where Archie kept the hay and straw bedding Alfie Barnes delivered to him weekly, from a farm near the Derby estate.

  Without fail, Archie would turn Comet out into the yard of a morning, tacking him up before mucking out his stall, laying a fresh bed of straw for him whilst he munched away on the hay placed onto the ground in front of him, atop of a thick sheet of tarpaulin.

  “Best hurry up and get you inside before this starts to get heavy old son, looks like we are going to be hit with the storm they warned us about,” he said, staring into the cloud filled sky as a heavy drop of rain landed on the back of his hand.

  Comet stood obediently as always, whilst Archie began the task of untacking him, loosening the belly band whilst talking to him gently, before undoing the breeching straps and removing the traces.

  Once satisfied all the straps were released, Archie pushed the cart with all his might, so it stood a few yards behind Comet, preoccupied with the last of the meal before him regardless of the rain now falling heavily upon them.

  “Yer a good old boy ain’t yer?” Archie said, stroking him, before undoing the heavy leather collar lain over the horse’s tall shoulders.

  “I’d best be right careful with this thing eh boy?” He remarked, hurrying to place it into the food store onto a metal bar protruding from the wall.

  He cast a glance at the shell of a sailing boat in one corner of the yard, in a state of disrepair.

  I’ll get around to finishing you one day.

  Hurrying through the sheets of rain, pouring from the heavens above, he pulled his old trench coat up to shield his head.

  “C’mon son,” he said, leading Comet towards his stall, “let’s get you dry inside, before I head to the Volley to get wet inside!”

  Chapter Eight

  The door to the pub opened, billowing sheets of rain followed the man stepping inside, shaking the rain from his overcoat, causing droplets to fly through the air, into the warmth of the pubs bar.

  “Bloody hell Archie, careful mate!”

  A broad-shouldered man sat at one of the tables nearby, wiping his jet-black hair as a shower of droplets landed upon his head.

  “Don’t mind him Archie,” said the beautiful woman sat alongside him.

  “Aye, Ron’s already had a bath once this month so don’t shock him by giving him another one,” Billy, the other man at the table said, winking at him.

  “Don’t be going and getting his hair wet”, the woman next to him added.

  Billy laughed good-naturedly.

  “At least I still have bloody hair to get wet,” Ron said, leaning across to rub his coarse broad hand over Billy’s bald spot.

  “Up yours Ron,” Billy said laughing, pulling himself away from the other man’s reach.

  “Fancy a drink Archie?” Ron asked.

  “I’d love one my friend.”

  Ron stood up, working his way to the bar.

  “Another round please Jackie Love,” he called to the dark-haired lady stood behind the bar, “and whatever it is Archie is having.”

  “I’ll have a stout please Ron,” Archie replied, sitting at a nearby table.

  The man already seated at the table, raised his glass up in acknowledgment.

  “You look knackered Archie, bad day?”

  “You don’t know the half of it Albert,” Archie replied.

  “What’s wrong?” the man asked, as Archie eased himself into the seat.

  “Bloody Corey O’Leary,” Archie replied.

  “Oh, cheers Ron,” he said, as Ron placed a glass of stout in front of him.

  “Not a problem Archie,” Ron said with a smile, walking to his own table.

  “What were you saying about O’Leary?” Albert asked, raising his glass of bitter to his mouth.

  “Had a run in with a couple of his lads near the Strand road earlier on today.”

  Albert held the glass in front of his mouth.

  “They didn’t hit you or anything, did they?”

  “No,” Archie replied, “only the usual threats from that fat crony of his, Brendan.”

  “He’s a nasty piece of work, just like O’Leary. What’s O’Leary’s problem with you anyway Archie?”

  “No idea,” Archie replied, taking a large sip from the glass, before placing it onto a well-used, drink sodden beer mat.

  “Though more than likely it’s because of his auld feller.”

  “Mick?”

  “Aye, he was a good one old Mick, but his son couldn’t be any more different.”

  “But what’s Mick to do with why Corey seems to hate you so much? You weren’t Rivals or anything, were you?”

  “Never was at all Albert, he was a nice bloke was Mick. We used to spend plenty of times back at our house playing dominoes and generally putting the world to rights.”

  “Seems like a lot of anger over nothing.”

  “Oh, well, there was one time.”

  “Oh yeah, when and more importantly what, was that?”

  Archie took hold of the glass with his long thin fingers, raising it to his mouth and gently blowing on it, resulting in wisps of froth falling onto the table.

  “Oh, the one time I gave him a bloody good hiding,” he replied, a slight grin upon his face.

  “You did what?” Albert asked incredulously.

  Archie took a swig of the ale, finishing off the remainder. Placing the glass back onto the table, he wiped the froth from his upper lip with the back of his hand.

  “I gave him a bloody good hiding.”

  “When was that?”

  “Oh, it was years ago. When he was barely wearing trousers.”

  “Oh, for a moment there I thought you h
ad meant recently.”

  “You’re taking the micky aren’t you Albert? I try to keep away from the nasty, short-arsed bugger at the best of times.”

  “So, how’d it come about?”

  “Caught the little bastard stealing from the back of the yard, didn’t I? I’d caught him once before and dragged him by his ear all the way to Mick’s house. Mick dragged him inside and told me afterwards if I ever caught him at it again, to give him a hiding.”

  “I didn’t think old Mick was the violent type.”

  “Oh, there was more to Mick than met the eye, but you’re right, he wasn’t really the violent sort. As Corey started to grow up, well, he’s still a short-arse but you know what I mean, I think old Mick must have regretted not taking a belt or two to him himself.”

  “Aye Archie, he turned into a right nasty piece of work that’s for sure.”

  “I heard Comet whinnying in the back one night, more so than he’d usually do and you know he’s a good horse, hardly a peep out of him.”

  Nodding his head, Albert took a sip from his own glass.

  He possessed a soft spot for Comet, even though the only horses he normally was interested in, were the ones running at the like of Aintree.

  “I went out into the back-yard; Winnie was taken with her sickness by then, so she was well away in bed at the time.

  “I called out but there was no reply, all of a sudden Comet started towards a pile of old metal in the corner of the yard. He was whinnying like he had never done before, so I knew something was up and somebody was there.”

  “I’d already picked up a cosh from next to the kitchen door, kept it there just in case if you know what I mean?”

  Nodding his head, Albert stared at his old friend.

  Archie had never relayed this tale to him before and he felt certain he did not want to miss any detail.

  “I called out as I went into the yard, to give whoever it was a chance to bugger off and I didn’t fancy getting my head caved in by some idiot, if you know what I mean?”

  Nodding his head in affirmation, Albert knew there were enough idiots out there on the streets these days, who would as soon hit you over the head than talk.