by Karen Woods
The neighbours were up in arms and a few of them shouted abuse at the car as it went speeding off. They would never have said anything to their faces though. No way, their windows would have gone through if they got wind of their comments. Harpur stood shaking as she finally let her grip go on Paul. Adrenaline was pumping through her body, the vein at the side of her neck was beating like a speeding train. With every last breath she had left in her she screamed after them, hoping they heard her every word. “Go on, fuck off and don’t come back around here again. The next time I see you here I’ll smash that car up. Yes, you heard me, the car my brother probably paid for along with all the other junkies around here.”
Sheila hurried to her daughter’s side and gripped her in her arms. “Come on love, get inside, they’re not worth your breath, they will all answer to God one day and I hope the lot of them will rot in hell.”
Harpur was struggling to breathe, her windpipe had tightened and she was as white as a sheet, a panic attack had set in. “Mam, they killed him. I know it was something to do with them lot. Our Brady would be here with us now if it wasn’t for them wankers. Why are they allowed to still be on the streets? My brother is dead because of them and no one gives a flying fuck. Why doesn’t somebody do something about them?” The neighbours were whispering now, discussing the harrowing death of Brady. Everybody there had their own opinions on how he met his death but none of them would breathe a word about it. It was none of their business. It was just gossip, people putting two and two together and coming up with six. Sheila led her daughter back towards the house, away from prying eyes. She was such a frail woman and if a strong gust of wind had come along she would have been knocked from her feet and put on her arse. Sheila shook her head as she walked past the people gathered on the street. Her heart had been shattered since the death of her son and everyone there knew the heartbreak she was facing. It was such a crying shame for her, she used to be such a happy-go-lucky person, she loved life, but she loved her son unconditionally and in her eyes he could do no wrong. There was an uncanny silence when Harpur and Sheila walked past her next door neighbour. They’d heard so many arguments from inside her house, so many fights in the midnight hour, smashing, crashing, verbal abuse. They all knew the life she’d led. Not a word, silence.
Harpur sat down on the sofa and sucked in large mouthfuls of air. “I wish these panic attacks would leave me alone mam. I’m at my counselling session tomorrow and I’m going to see if there is anything he can do to help me. I swear to you, it feels like I’m going to have a heart attack.”
Sheila came and sat on the arm of the sofa and reached over to touch her head with so much sadness in her eyes. “It’s just the stress love, it will pass. You’ve been through a lot lately and it’s just your body’s way of telling you to calm down. And as for confronting drug dealers in the street? You’re facing a losing battle. Look at me, how many times have I had words with them all? They just look at me as if I am daft. They have no heart, no morals. It’s all about the money to them. They don’t care that they are destroying families.”
Harpur sipped on a cold glass of water that her mother passed her. “Mam, I’m just struggling every day with our Brady not being here. This house is where he lived. Look at his chair, he used to be always sat there. How will I ever get used to him not being here with us anymore? It’s not right, it’s all so messed up. I feel like pulling my hair out.”
Sheila dropped her head low, something was wrong with her. She stood up and walked to the living room window, messing about with the curtains, straightening the blinds, trying to occupy her mind. Her eyes clouded over and her bottom lip trembled. “My son is at peace now. I watched him fighting his drug habit for years and let me tell you something for nothing, I’ve seen him on his knees. I’ve witnessed him going to hell and back for the drugs he needed. You don’t know the half of it, love. I would have given my right arm to see him clean but you know as well as me that was never going to happen. He’d done things love, bad things to feed his addiction. Stuff that would make your toes curl. You don’t know the half of it.” Sheila rubbed her arms vigorously and her eyes closed slowly. She walked back to Harpur and patted the top of her shoulder. “Come on love, pull yourself together. You have Neil and the kids to look about. They must be sick to death of seeing you upset. Come on, dry your eyes.”
Harpur snivelled and dabbed the corner of the tissue into the corner of her eye. “Don’t you think I know that, mam. I try my best you know but I just have bad days. Seeing that prick serving up druggies just made me see red.” Harpur stood up and wrapped her arms around her mother. “I’ll be alright. It’s you I’m worried about. What you seen, what you had to do, God only knows how you are still breathing.”
Sheila sat down on the sofa and pulled a cigarette out of her packet. Flicking her silver lighter, she popped her fag into the yellow flame. A thick cloud of grey smoke circled her face as she sucked hard on the cigarette. “I’ll be fine love. Stop worrying about me. I’ll get there just like you will.”
Harpur walked to the mirror and straightened her hair. “Bleeding hell, look at the state of me. I’m supposed to be going round to Bridget’s tonight for a few drinks. I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”
Sheila held a blank expression. “Why are you going round on a week day?”
Harpur rolled her eyes and let out a laboured breath. “Football’s on television isn’t it. You know what Neil’s like when his team are playing. No one gets a look in. I’ll tell you something for nothing mother, when Manchester United are playing no one can get a word out of him. The world could stop and still he wouldn’t notice a single thing.”
Sheila tried to make light of the matter. She could see her daughter was getting upset. “Oh, come on, Neil’s not that bad. He works all the hours God sends and you could do a lot worse. Remember where you come from and the life you led before him. I’d count myself lucky and be grateful for all you have. It could have been a lot worse.”
Harpur shot a look over at her mother. What? So she had to be grateful that her married life was a shambles and she was dead inside? Surely there had to be more to life than this? Could she open up to her mother and tell her about her problems at home? She studied her for a few seconds longer than she needed to. No, what good would that do? She wouldn’t understand, she was old school and under the impression that once you made your bed you had to lie in it. Sheila had been married twice in her life and it was fair to say that she had got the shit end of the stick more than a few times. So in her eyes, Neil was a safe bet; no complications, just plain sailing, she could see no wrong in him whatsoever. Harpur decided to keep her problems to herself and she was probably right in her decision. Sheila didn’t need to know how unhappy her daughter was, she already had enough problems of her own without adding to them. “Right mam, I’m sorry for being a headache. I just get angry don’t I? I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. I’m just having a bad day that’s all.”
Sheila watched her daughter from the corner of her eye and started to clean up. Harpur walked to her side and pecked her on the cheek. “I’ll call after work tomorrow. I should be in a better mood by then. Why don’t you sit down and relax? The cleaning can wait.”
Sheila shot a look about the front room and nodded her head. “I know love. I’ll just shift this last bit of washing and I’ll get sat down. All day my back has been aching. It’s just not getting any better either. Two hours’ sleep I had last night, I’m drained I can tell you, absolutely knackered.”
Harpur walked to the door and looked behind her one last time. Her eyes shot to her brother’s chair and her chin began to shake. She had to go, she had to leave, she was ready to start crying again. “Night mam, love you, see you tomorrow.” The front door slammed shut and Sheila was alone. She sat down in her chair and lifted her eyes up to the ceiling, whispering under her breath. Who was she talking to? There was nobody there.
*
Bridget had the tunes on in her hou
se and she was singing her head off to a Take That track. She didn’t hear the hammering at the front door. Harpur lifted the letterbox high and peeped inside it. She could see her singing and dancing and she couldn’t help but laugh. This woman had moves and when she hit the dancefloor everybody knew about it. “Bridget, open the door!” Harpur shrieked through the tiny gap. She repeated this several times before her friend eventually heard her.
Bridget squeezed her eyes tightly together and hurried to answer the door. She was out of breath as she stood with her hands resting on the door frame. “Sorry love, once I’m in the zone I can’t hear nothing but the beat of the music. Look at the state of me, I’m sweating like a camel’s arsehole. I should be at least eight stone the way I move about. It’s amazing that I’m still a porker.”
Harpur sniggered and moved her away from the doorway with a quick arm movement. She held a bottle of red wine out towards her and turned her head back. “Dance your way into the kitchen then and fill me a large glass up with it. The day I’ve had, I need it.” Bridget was still singing and shaking her body. Take That were her favourite band back in the day and both of them had been to see them in concert when they were younger. Gary Barlow was Bridget’s guilty pleasure and even though he wasn’t that tall, she always told everyone she would still ruin him given the chance. And this woman would have. She had no inhibitions and she always took what she wanted. Sometimes Harpur wished she was a bit more like her best friend. She just seemed to breeze through life and never really had any serious issues or problems, she oozed confidence. Of course, she’d had man troubles in the past, but what woman didn’t? Bridget slammed the front door shut and danced with the bottle of wine into the kitchen, she was still singing her head off. Harpur sat down in the front room and kicked her shoes off. It was a lovely place to be, full of lots of memorabilia from Bridget’s life. It was fair to say that this woman had had her share of lovers too. The longest lasted around five years, before she eventually told him it was over and just walked away. Yes, Bridget just marched in one night from her job as an estate agent and told the poor guy it was over. There were no warnings, no nothing, she just carted him and that was the end of the relationship, ruthless she was when she wasn’t happy. Harpur was as shocked as anyone when she found out about the split and wondered if her best friend had even thought it through. But, that was that, he was gone and a week later, Bridget just carried on as if he never existed. That wasn’t right was it? How could anyone just forget someone who had been in her life for as long as Jacob had, she was heartless. Even to this day she still said she never missed him. She just put on a happy face and didn’t speak of him again. It must have been tough.
“Put track ten on love,” Bridget shouted from inside the kitchen. “We can have a dance. Well, that’s if you can still remember how to move your bony arse. I’m actually thinking of getting another dancing partner if you don’t shape up. If truth be known, I think you’ve lost it over the years. I wasn’t going to mention it but you know me, I say what I see.”
Harpur smiled and took her coat off. She knew Bridget was winding her up and she was used to her sense of humour, she didn’t reply. Harpur loved being here, it reminded her of when she was younger. These two shared some great memories here together. They’d done everything together back in the day; babysitting, Morris dancing and they even shared clothes, they were inseparable. Brady, Harpur’s brother, had always tagged along with this crazy duo too and if they were ever a member short for their new band, he always stepped up and learned the dance routine with them. Brady was a good dancer and if he’d have taken that path of being creative, he could have succeeded. The guy could move. Bridget held two glasses in her hand as she walked into the room, they were filled to the brim. There was no measuring how many units they were drinking tonight, their aim was to get pissed as fast as they could. Both girls liked a drink and once they started it was hard for them to stop; party girls Bridget liked to call them both.
Harpur turned the music down and walked towards Bridget to get her drink. “You’ll never guess what happened tonight?” Before she could answer, she sat down and began to fill her in. “I got a grip of that ginger bastard Paul Burton. There he was parked up near my mam’s, serving junkies up just like he always does. The cheek of him. I swear to you Bridget, I would pay someone to end his life, the sweaty runt. Seriously, he makes my skin crawl the hard-faced fucker.”
Bridget slurped a mouthful of her drink and sat down next to her. She was serious as she spoke. “I know some men who can wipe him from the face of the earth if you want, love. You just say the word and he will go on the missing list. I have connections you know; just one word and that prick will be in a body bag.”
Harpur looked at her and studied her further. Was she being serious or just chatting shit? She wasn’t sure. Either way it was good to know that if that was the route she wanted to go down, she had other options. Harpur folded her arms tightly in front of her and gasped her breath. “I’m going to get a grip of that Tony Wallis, you know who I mean don’t you? He was a good friend of our Brady’s. He knows more than he’s letting on and I’m sure he’s been avoiding me for some reason,” she reached over and gulped a mouthful of her drink before she continued. “Since our kid has been gone he doesn’t set foot near my mam’s door anymore. I mean, he was there every day when Brady was alive so what’s changed now? Something isn’t right I just know it!”
Bridget held her head to the side and replied. “Perhaps he can’t face your mam that’s all. He’s still in the same boat as Brady. Are you forgetting that he’s still a heroin addict and nothing’s changed in his life? So he probably doesn’t want her seeing him wrecked out of his head does he?”
Harpur screwed her face up and slammed her drink back down on the table. “Are you for real? It never bothered him before. Come on, you’ve seen the state of him when he’s been sat in my mam’s house with our Brady. The both of them have been off their rockers, completely spaced out. They didn’t care who saw them. It’s not like he hid anything away from my mam is it?”
Bridget sighed. “You can say that again. I don’t know how she coped with it all. I don’t want to speak out of turn here love but she should have kicked them both out on their arses. Did he not have any respect for where he lived at all?”
“She just did anything in the end to make sure she knew where he was. Bridget, you don’t know the half of it where he was concerned. I’ve had to hold a lot back because of my mam but when the time is right I’m going to tell her exactly how he disrespected her in her own home.”
“I would love to know what he got up to. We only knew a few things about his life but come on, there must have been so much more to his story. He was out until the early hours nearly every night. Where the hell was he going, did he ever say?”
Harpur nibbled on the edge of her fingernail. She closed her eyes slightly and twisted her hair slowly. “My mam thought he had a girlfriend but I don’t believe that for one second. He was off his napper twenty-four hours a day so how could he ever hold down a serious relationship? What kind of woman would put up with that?”
“It might have just been a shag. You know what men are like, a booty call it might have been.”
“No, it just doesn’t add up. I know I keep saying it but I’m going to find out what really went on. I owe it to our family. I don’t want people talking behind our backs about what they think happened anymore. I want to put it to bed once and for all. They know nothing about what Brady was going through.” There was an awkward silence and they both sat there thinking. Was Brady’s life really such a big mystery to them both? Harpur rubbed her arms and shook her head. Her eyes started to cloud over. Not again, she was sick to death of breaking down and crying all the time. It just happened without her having any control over it whatsoever.
Control it girl, control it.
Harpur let out a laboured breath and spoke. “Let’s change the subject, it just makes me angry when I think about it all.�
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Bridget opened her eyes wide and popped a cigarette from the packet. “Do you want one?”
Harpur declined, she’d smoked so much lately and she was trying to cut down. Bridget sucked hard on her fag. “So, did you add him or what?”
Harpur was still in a world of her own.
“Who?”
“Bleeding hell, and I thought it was me with the dickey memory. Dishy Dessie of course, that’s who.”
Harpur smirked and dragged her feet up under her bum cheeks, making herself comfortable. “Oh, stop it. What are you like? What makes you think I’ll add him anyway?”
Bridget tapped the side of her nose and sniggered. “Let’s just say I know you. Come on, look at you, you’re smitten already. Look at your eyes, you’re blushing at just the mention of his name. He still rocks your world doesn’t he?”
Harpur held a flat palm on the side of her cheek. Bridget was right, her cheeks were bright red. She had to admit defeat and smirked. “Alright, I’ll do it now from my phone. I swear, if he starts winding me up I’m going to block him. I’m only doing this to prove a point to you, nothing more, nothing less. Me still fancying Dessie Ryan, are you having a laugh or what?”
Harpur logged into her account on her iPhone and searched for her old flame. Once she found his profile she sat looking at his photograph a bit longer than she needed to. Her finger hovered over the friend request button and her heart was racing. Bridget was eager to get this over with. “Have you done it, come on, we’ve got two bottles of wine to drink, just do it, hurry up. Stop wasting time, live a little.” It was like being back in school and all Harpur could visualise was a gang of girls gathered around her shouting, “Do it, do it.”
Boom! She pressed the button. There was no messing about thinking about it any more.
Harpur covered her face with her hands, she rubbed her skin vigorously and already she was regretting sending the friend request. Why had she just done that? What the hell was going on with her? She was a married woman, was she forgetting that?