Joe puffed air through his nose. "No. You can do what you want."
"You don't like him, do you?"
"It's not even that. I just know that he doesn't like me."
"Why wouldn't he like you?"
Joe's jaw tightened and he shifted his focus back to the TV screen. "No reason. He just looks like a guy who doesn't like kids."
Louise knew he wasn't telling the full truth, but she let it go. "Son, you don't have to worry. I like Stephen and I'm going to see him again, but he'll never be as important to me as you are. If I find out for sure that he has something against you, I promise I'll drop him like a hot spud. Okay?"
"Really?"
"Of course really, you big geek!" She playfully punched him on the shoulder. "Now can we watch this film?"
Joe laughed. "Yeah. Thanks, mummy."
Louise smiled. She didn't point out that he'd called her mummy instead of ma for the first time in years.
###
Liam loved power. He always knew he wanted to lead the Rockets, but he never knew how good it would feel to be the boss.
After agreeing to take the reins he'd gotten in touch with the Fegan twins. Between the three of them they were able to round up the others for a meeting at the Falls Park. Encroaching dinnertime had thinned out the crowd and they sprawled out by the picnic benches furthest from the play area and adult ears. Liam shared the news with them in a steady and confident voice. No sweat.
After the murmurs of surprise, Liam continued. "So I reckon we should get to work to celebrate a shift in our... crew." He liked the sound of the word crew much better than gang. It had serious undertones. "As soon as possible."
"Who made you the leader?" Tommy Murray asked. The four-eyed wanker.
"Joe offered the gang to me this morning. Why? Do you think you should be the boss?"
"I just think there should have been a vote or something."
Liam stood up and pushed his chin forward. "How about this; if you want to take my job, you can stand up and fight me for it."
Tommy looked to the ground. "I was only saying, Liam. I don't want to be the leader. I was only saying."
Liam looked at the others. "Anyone else?"
Nobody took him up. Losing the fight to Wee Danny hadn't cost him too much respect then.
"Good," he said. "Now let's get back to my idea."
The Wee Rockets consented through silence.
Liam continued in his new business-voice. "Up to now we've been playing it too safe. Joe's a mate and I still respect him, but now that he's gone I think we can earn more cash by taking more risks. And I say we get started now. Right now."
"What are you thinking?" Eddie Fegan asked.
"That there are about a million more pensioners on the road at the minute than there'll be at ten tonight. We could do three and still have time to buy a carryout before the off licence closes tonight. So why wait?"
Mickey Rooney, the ginger nut from Cavendish Street, snorted. "Catch yourself on, Liam. The reason we've always waited until there's less people on the street was to lessen the chance of some hero tackling us. We'd have every taxi driver on the road chasing us with hammers and mini baseball bats if we went on a run now."
"Where're your balls, Mickey?" Liam asked. "It was worrying about that sort of shite that kept us back for so long. We have to move on and try new things. And I don't just mean altering the timetable. There's so much more we could be doing, but changing this one thing tonight is a step in the right direction. Next week we'll try something completely different."
The Fegan twins nodded their support and encouragement. Tommy Four-Eyes avoided eye contact but Mickey Rooney tilted his head thoughtfully. He seemed to be coming around to Liam's fresh approach. The other three Rockets didn't voice an opinion either way. Liam thought it a positive sign. It meant they were still interested.
"Do you see the man with the dog?" Liam pointed through the park railings onto the Falls Road. An aged humpback stumbled behind an energetic mongrel terrier. Every couple of steps he yanked on the dog's lead in a pathetic bid for authority. The brown and white mutt uttered a little yelp each time before bounding back to the lead's full extension.
The boys enjoyed the show until the mixed species couple disappeared into Milltown Cemetery.
"The graveyard?" Matt Fegan asked.
Liam nodded. "It'll be pretty quiet in there. Most people visit at the weekend."
"The guy's got a dog with him," Tommy said. "What if it attacks?"
Eddie Fegan made a hacking noise in the back of his throat. "It's fucking tiny! Lace the boot into it and watch it piss off."
Liam stood up. "No more talking. I'm going to the cemetery. If you want to come and help me, great. You'll get a cut of the money. If you don't, then don't bother me again. From now on we're cutting loose the dead weight."
He jogged towards the path, instantly regretting it as his heart sped up. But he'd committed himself to an energetic exit. He'd have to jog all the way across the four-lane road and up the slight incline towards the cemetery gates. Rather than glance over his shoulder to check on his backup, he pulled deep breaths in through his nose and puffed through his mouth. If he lost his breath he wouldn't be able to command his troop.
By the time he got to the gate, the twins were running on either side of him and he could hear the clump-clump of trainers on tar behind him. He stopped at the great stone arch over the cemetery entrance. Pretending to scope out the path ahead, he got his breathing under control before turning to the Rockets. Full attendance. Beezer, as his da would say.
"Right, we'll move in as two groups. Me, Eddie, Matt and Tommy will take the lead. You four hang back like you're not with us. Keep an eye out for witnesses. And if there's an awful lot of noise, sweep in and shut the old bastard up. Then we'll split. Every man for himself for half an hour. Meet up again at the new graveyard, um..." He paused to remember the name. "City Cemetery; the one at the Whiterock Roundabout. We'll find another jackpot before news gets out about this one."
Liam's group took the narrowing tarmac path that swept to the left and led them into the thick of the graves. They passed a black-humoured one way sign on their way to the older sites. The second group went off road, moving between headstones. Liam shuddered a little at the thought of them walking over the dead.
The old man had stopped in an untended section of the cemetery. Weeds stood higher than the black and grey tablets of stone. Clouds of midges hovered in pillars of sunlight. Liam placed a finger on his lips and rolled his feet from heel to toe, muffling his footsteps. Their target had his back to them, head bowed to look down on a grave. The tomb stone read, ‘BELOVED WIFE'. As they got closer, he could make out the pensioner's mutterings.
"... and he still shits on the carpet. Awful pest of a thing. I should have bought a Labrador, they're easy to housetrain, but this one was free. I still haven't named him, but the other day my head was in the clouds and I called for Whiskey and this one turned to me. Would it be silly to name him after the last dog? Oh, hold on love." The old man bent a little at the knees and let out a thunderous fart. "Excuse me, Mary."
The Fegan twins snorted laughter. Liam shushed them out of instinct. The old man turned. He looked embarrassed and frightened, just like all the old men they robbed. That was the difference between the grandas and the grannies. The aul dolls always looked more pissed off than scared.
"Can I help you boys?"
The little mutt sensed something was up. It stood still for the first time, by its master's heel.
Tommy Four-Eyes spoke first. "Just give us your watch and your wallet and we won't hurt you."
The pensioner's eyes widened. "Fuck off."
"That's lovely language in front of your dead wife," Eddie Fegan said.
"Shut your mouth, wee boy! Have you no respect?"
The mongrel darted at Eddie. Matt stepped forward and planted a kick in its ribs. Dog and master howled in unison. Liam barged into the old man, and toppled him onto h
is wife's weed-topped grave. He went through the guy's pockets while Eddie and Matt teased the dog. They stamped the ground in front of it and the wee mutt snarled and yelped alternately. Liam glanced up to see what Tommy was doing. He stood a little back from the twins, rubbing his own arms and hopping on the spot.
"Four-Eyes, get over here and take his watch."
A reluctant and pale-faced Tommy knelt by the grave and grappled with the pensioner's arm. The old guy struggled against them, twisting and rocking like a fitting epileptic, making it impossible for Liam to get a good rummage in his coat pockets.
"Take it easy," Liam said.
The old man swung at him, missing his nose with a backhand swipe by inches.
"Ah, fuck this," Liam said. He thumped the old man's jaw. The struggling stopped. "Stupid bastard."
They left him, stripped of his wallet and watch, unconscious on his wife's final resting place. The little dog wandered away from the scene, trailing his red leather lead behind him. Liam thumbed through the wallet as they meandered to the gates.
"How much is in it?" Tommy asked, breathing hard, and then wrapped his lips around his little grey asthma inhaler. He sucked in a Darth Vader lungful.
"Five fucking quid." Liam jammed the wallet into his back pocket. "What was the dickhead thinking? All that fuss for a fiver!"
The others said nothing and that bugged Liam. They were disappointed in him. He'd just talked about turning over a new leaf and making serious money. And after his first run at the helm he'd made a fiver to be split eight ways. Fuck! He needed to salvage the situation.
"We're doing another one, lads."
"Aye, down at the City Cemetery." Tommy said. The colour was returning to his cheeks. "Which is why we should have split like the other four, instead of dandering along here like we haven't just left an unconscious wanker lying on a grave."
"No, I mean we're doing another one here. Right now. Nobody saw us. We have time before the geezer wakes up."
Tommy gave him a look. Arched eyebrows and curled lips. "You're pushing your luck."
"Nope, we are. Or are you going to run home to your ma?"
"I just think we should stick to the plan. Your plan. I mean, there's only four of us here now."
Matt and Eddie clucked like chickens. Perfect soldiers; always up for a challenge.
Tommy took a reddener from his neck to his hairline. "Fucking fine, then. Who?"
Liam pointed to the big stone arch. "The next person to walk through that gate alone. Man, woman or child. We'll hide behind the big skip there and at least we'll be close to the gate if things get sticky. A surprise attack from behind, quick and brutal. No struggling like the Mister Fiver-in-my-Wallet fiasco. And if they don't have something decent on them, I'm going to fucking lose it. I swear to fuck, I'll go fucking apeshit."
###
Joe looked at his watch again. Half past eight. No Dermot.
McVeigh's shitty horror movie had ended ages ago and he still sat on the couch with his ma. She scrolled through the Sky Digital TV guide with infuriating ineptness, pushing the yellow button when she wanted the green one and then trying to watch shows that wouldn't start for another twenty-four hours. He tutted as she hit the backup button again and started from scratch.
"I'm sure he's just been held up," his ma said. "He'll be here."
"Aye, right."
"Why don't you give him ten more minutes? If he doesn't show then go out and have a laugh with your mates." She squeezed his shoulder. "At least you can say you did your part. Then it'll be his responsibility to make it up to you." She paused. "Do you want a cup of tea?"
Joe nodded, mostly because she'd have to get up and leave the room to make his tea. If she kept going on and on about it he'd say something and cause another hassle. After the fun he'd had earlier with Wee Danny and the E, the crappiness of reality stung worse than usual. He'd still been a little chemically enhanced when his ma suggested they watch the film, but his come down had hit rock bottom halfway through. He'd heard about the depression after taking ecstasy at school; everybody at Corpus Christi got the anti-drugs propaganda in first year form class. But he hadn't expected his mood to plummet so soon after soaring high as a kite. It had to be the pill though. It's not as if he'd expected that much from Dermot. And what good was he anyway? Hadn't he done just fine without the big prick?
His ma set the steaming Manchester United mug on the arm of the sofa for him. She'd put in too much milk, but he didn't mention it. If she hadn't forgotten the sugar he'd be able to stomach it all right.
"We need sugar," she said. "I'll just run down to the shop. I'll be back before the tea cools." She grabbed her denim jacket from the balustrade and threw it on. Then she ran her hand along the nape of her neck and flicked her hair out of the collar. "I'll get you a Crunchie bar too, okay?"
Joe swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and nodded. "Thanks, ma. I... um... thanks."
She smiled on one side of her mouth and winked. It'd been a long time since she'd looked at him like that. She'd dug up the old expression at a good time. He managed a small smile in return.
Then they both jolted at the drum roll thudding on the front door.
Louise's look of surprise morphed into a scowl. "That must be Dermot."
"He said he'd toot the horn."
"He'll wish he had after I've finished with him."
The door rattled in its frame as it was attacked by the heavy-fisted knocking again.
"Take it easy!" Louise yelled through the door. She turned the night latch and took three stumbling steps back. "Karen?"
"Where the fuck is he?"
"Who?"
"Your Joe."
Joe felt an instant surge of guilt. His skin burned all over and his stomach drew his balls upwards. He'd never heard his ma's posh friend curse in all the time he'd known her. She didn't even sound like herself. More like a demon hijacking a woman's vocal cords. He tried to figure out what he'd done to her and came up blank.
His ma turned to him. "What have you done?"
Joe shrugged. He didn't know what to say.
Karen Magee's voice rasped again. "He's here?"
She almost knocked his ma over as she stormed into the living room. Joe stood up and raised his hands, palms out, to ward her off. She had panda eyes from crying. Joe wanted to tell her to calm down, that he hadn't done anything, but her messy makeup and gunslinger stance scared him into silence. He looked to his ma for support.
"What do you think he's done, Karen?" She spoke in a calm voice and approached her friend with bomb squad caution.
Karen spun on her heel. Her jerky movement almost emitted sparks. "My mummy's in the Royal. She got mugged at Milltown Cemetery. The animals broke her arm, her hip and fractured her skull. Looks like the doing of that fucking Wee Rocket gang." She shot the last two words out through a fine mist of spittle.
"You think my Joe hurt your mummy? Karen, when did this happen?"
"At about half six this evening. I couldn't go with her. I had to work late. But I thought she'd be all right. It's daddy's anniversary. She couldn't wait any longer to visit him. And those fucks robbed her." She turned to Joe. "She's in a coma!"
"Stop it, Karen." Joe's ma grabbed her friend's upper arm and turned her. She was not gentle. "Joe's been with me since I got home from work. We've been watching the telly since quarter past five. He couldn't have been there."
"Let go of me."
"Calm down."
"My mummy's at death's door! Don't you tell me to calm down."
"I'm so sorry to hear that. I love your mummy, I really do. But if you don't settle yourself and stop accusing my son of something he couldn't have done, I am going to give you such a kick up the arse. You should be at your mummy's side, not acting like a crazy bitch in my living room."
Karen burst into tears and collapsed against Joe's ma. Joe shook on the spot. His ma looked over Karen's shoulder at him. She made eye contact and frowned. Joe rubbed the crown of his head with bot
h hands. He didn't know if he should leave them to it or wait for Karen to apologise to him. Karen's tortured sobs set his skin crawling. He needed a smoke or a drink or a pill or something. Anything.
His heart rate slowed as Karen's sobs finally faded to a kitten-like mewling. She mumbled watery apologies into the crook of his ma's shoulder.
"Shush, now. Sit down there. Joe, will you stick on the kettle please?"
He practically ran out into the kitchen. Only for the fact it would have prolonged his stay in the uncomfortable scene, he'd have kissed his ma for giving him an excuse to leave the room. As he reached for the kettle he heard his phone play Eminem's The Real Slim Shady. He'd left the mobile on the sofa. There was no way he was going to go back in there to answer it. He waited for it to ring off.
The music cut out as his ma answered the phone. "Dermot? Is that you? Where the fuck are you?"
There was a pause and some whispering from Karen.
His ma's voice again, "Car trouble? You're a... you know what? Never mind what I think. You can tell all of this to Joe. Have you enough credit on your phone to wait for him?" A pause. "Aye, big shocker. I'll tell him you phoned."
Joe didn't move from his spot by the kitchen sink. He expected a huge rant from his ma. She surprised him with silence. Karen spoke instead.
"Dermot? Dermot Kelly?" Her tone sounded a little more human.
His ma sighed. "Yeah. He arrived here last night. Caused a ruckus and left his number. Typical Dermot. Joe decided he wanted to get to know him. I couldn't stand in his way."
"And he's let Joe down already? Ouch."
Joe filled the kettle and switched it on. He considered slipping out the backdoor to avoid an awkward moment with Karen, but curiosity over Dermot's phone call pulled him to the living room. Karen fumbled her way through an apology and Joe blushed. He couldn't deal with it. Especially since he could have easily been guilty if the Rockets had come across Missus Magee before his recent departure. He shushed her as politely as he could.
"Forget about it, Karen. I'd have gone mad too. I understand."
"Thanks, Joe." She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a handful of tissues. She wiped her mascara-smeared eyes and blew her nose. The horn-like blast cut through the sombre atmosphere.
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