by Paul Cuddihy
15
ONE SMALL STEP
A pain shot through his side like a knife being thrust in and out as she held up his right arm, sliding it into a freshly washed white shirt which he didn’t recognise. Mick frowned but managed to suppress the urge to cry out. He knew she was being as gentle as she could, and it would be worse when she tried his other arm. He looked down at it, lying listlessly at his side. The doctor had pressed a splint on it, which he’d strapped tightly, though he’d been honest enough to explain that it might make no difference.
‘The bone will heal,’ he’d said as he finished, ‘but it was a bit of a mess. We’ll just have to wait and see.’
‘And pray,’ Kate had piped in from the corner of the bedroom. The doctor smiled, but Mick could tell he was a man of medicine rather than faith, and Mick wasn’t convinced that prayers would make much of a difference either. Still, it wouldn’t do any harm and it felt good to think that somebody had him in their thoughts.
Kate didn’t even attempt to push his left arm into the shirt, instead wrapping the garment across his body and buttoning it up so that it hid his injured limb. He watched as she managed to push each button through the hole with her one good hand and he could feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes though he quickly blinked them away. It wouldn’t do for her to see him like this – it was just as well that she was concentrating on the task – but he wanted to thank her; the words refused to take shape in his mouth, however. He waited until she’d finished, struggling to push the last button through the tiny opening in the material which she eventually did with a triumphant grin. As she stood up, he leant forward and kissed her, a tender caress that he hoped would let her know how he felt.
They were venturing out for the first time since the attack. The doctor had recommended fresh air and Mick was grateful for the chance to escape the confines of the chapel house. It had proved to be a safe haven and he’d thanked his brother for saving his life. He’d wanted to thank O’Connor as well but Thomas had said he would pass on the message. There was an air of mystery surrounding the man who did his brother’s bidding and Mick didn’t have the strength to press for more information. He was still in a lot of pain and only sleep brought him any relief. Even that was not guaranteed, though the smell and the sound and the touch of Kate alongside him proved more soothing than any balm.
‘Ten minutes a day to start with,’ the doctor had said, ‘just to build up your strength. Try walking to the end of the street and back and see how you get on.’
It had seemed like nothing at all when the doctor said it, but now that he’d taken a few steps outside, slowly putting one foot in front of the other, Mick glanced up the street and thought the end of it seemed as far away as the horizon. He shivered in the winter chill, though Kate had slipped on a heavy winter coat over his shirt. It was one of his brother’s, as was the shirt, and didn’t quite fit; the sleeve that he’d managed to use stopped just short of his wrist but it was warm enough.
There was still a heavy covering of snow on the ground, though it had been packed down by the heavy tread of countless pairs of feet, and it only made Mick step forward with even more caution. He leant gratefully on Kate, who clutched his right arm and guided him up the street, occasionally squeezing his hand affectionately. Rain was falling lightly and Mick noticed the snow at the side of the ground was turning brown like a mysterious disease was slowly and silently devouring the pure white flakes.
Every half-dozen steps or so, he would stop, almost breathless.
‘Are you okay?’ Kate asked each time.
‘I’m fine,’ he said with a nod, taking short breaths in quick succession until he felt capable of going on. Deeper breaths only made the pain in his tightly-strapped ribs even sorer than it was during every other waking moment.
‘We can turn back if you want,’ Kate said.
‘No, the doctor said the end of the street and back and that’s what we’ll do.’
Another squeeze of his hand, a smile that would melt the coldest heart and a kiss to set his heart racing.
He looked into Kate’s eyes – she was now able to open both of them, though the bruising, purple and yellow and sickly, remained – and he was reminded to thank God for his good luck.
‘Why me?’ he’d asked her as they lay in bed last night. She leant up on her elbow and even though it was dark, he felt he could see her face in perfect clarity. Maybe it was just because it seemed like the only thing he’d looked at in all the time he’d been in the bedroom, but he’d committed it to memory and it was the last thing he thought of before he drifted off to sleep and it was the first thing he thought of when he woke up.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Why are you here with me? What makes me different from…’
‘You mean, from all the other men that I’ve been with?’
‘No, I didn’t mean that. What I was trying to say was…’
‘It’s okay, I know what I am.’
‘What you were,’ he said, touching her arm gently with his fingertips.
‘I could ask you the same thing,’ she said. ‘Why did you look for me? It would have been easier just to let me disappear and forget about me.’
‘Guilty conscience, I suppose.’
She laughed, leaning over and kissing him quickly.
‘So why me?’ he asked again.
‘Because you wanted me.’
‘I know, but –’
‘You wanted me just for me. Not because you had the money or anything like that. It just felt normal and I hadn’t felt like that for so long…’
Tears glistened on her cheeks and she pressed her face into his chest. He could feel more tears dropping onto his flesh like thin rain and he felt happier at that moment than he had done in many a long day.
When they reached the end of the street – it took a lot longer than the ten minutes the doctor had recommended – they stopped. Mick leant against the tenement wall and glanced back at the route they’d just travelled. It was no more than a hundred yards, but it felt like they’d been walking for miles. He was breathless and sore and exhilarated at the same time. Kate lit two cigarettes and passed one to him, which he began smoking gratefully, filling his lungs up with tobacco and breathing out with a contented sigh.
‘It’ll be dark by the time we manage to walk back,’ he said and she laughed.
The rain was getting heavier and he sheltered his cigarette in the cup of his hand, feeling its heat tingle his skin.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, taking a final draw before flicking the cigarette away. ‘We’ll get soaked if we stay out here for much longer.’
She took his arm again and they began the slow trek back to the chapel house. Mick knew it was all in his mind but he suddenly felt as if there was a spring in his step that hadn’t been there when they’d first set out.
The following day they repeated the journey and already it didn’t seem quite such a daunting prospect. Kate remained his crutch and each foot forward was a slow and measured action, but he was heading in the right direction and it felt good. Thomas had been pleased when they’d told him the previous night, though Mick knew that his recovery would soon herald his departure from the chapel house. He’d always known that it was a temporary arrangement, but he would miss it when he had to go; he liked living in the same house as his brother, even if it was secretive.
He’d also been amazed that Kate had been allowed to stay with him without so much as a word of chastisement, if not downright condemnation, and he was grateful for his brother’s understanding. The scandal of the arrangement, if it ever got out, was one Thomas was unlikely to survive.
Neither Mick nor Kate had given much thought to what would happen next, though he presumed it would involve the two of them together, regardless of any practical difficulties that would involve. For one thing, his labouring days were over for a while, at least until he could see whether his left arm had any future use or not.
‘You need
to get out of Glasgow,’ Thomas had urged.
‘That’s what I keep telling him,’ Kate said as Mick shrugged. ‘It’s too dangerous here now.’
‘Everywhere’s dangerous,’ Mick said.
‘But Duffy’ll kill you next time for sure,’ she said.
‘I’ll be ready for him.’
‘Don’t mistake bravery for stupidity, Mick Costello,’ Thomas said with a frown. ‘And it’s not just Duffy who’s after you, in case you’d forgotten.’
Mick knew his brother was right. Glasgow was the worst place for him to be right now, and maybe it always would be from now on. It was now just a case of choosing where he could go – where they could go, because he was determined that he wasn’t going anywhere without Kate. He had a few more days at least before he would be well enough to leave St Alphonsus’, so he would be able to bide his time before making any final decision. They’d already been told they could stay until beyond Christmas Day, which was less than a week away, and Mick reluctantly accepted in his mind that he would leave Glasgow, for all that he wanted this city to remain his home.
Each day now followed a similar pattern and he looked forward to their walk. He could pretend that they were just a courting couple – married, perhaps – as they strolled along the pavement. No one seemed to pay much attention to them, despite the fact that they were walking wounded, two stray casualties from some unknown battlefield, but he liked the fact that they could enjoy the anonymity of their ordinariness, though he knew Kate was still on edge, throwing nervous glances all around her whenever they were out.
‘He’ll be looking for us,’ she said every time he tried to reassure her.
‘We’re safe here,’ Mick said, hoping that the conviction he tried to inject into his voice made up for the lack of it in his heart.
‘“You can run but you can’t hide.” That’s what he said.’
‘They’re just words.’
‘But he found me last time.’
He would squeeze her hand tightly, and whisper what he hoped were words of reassurance. The truth was, he expected Duffy to reappear at any moment, though he hoped it would be long enough to let him get his strength back, otherwise they were both in trouble. He knew well enough the power that the other man possessed, and even if he fully recovered, there was no guarantee it would make any difference.
On the fourth day, he decided it was time to try walking without any help.
‘It’s the only way I’m going to get better,’ he insisted when Kate protested.
‘But what if you fall?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
It was a strange sensation to have someone care for him and it was slightly unsettling. He felt the same way about her in return, even if he wasn’t ever able to articulate those feelings; he hoped that his actions did speak louder than words.
Thomas had yet to see him walk – he’d always been too busy with work in the parish. Mick thought about surprising him at Sunday Mass, walking up the aisle to receive Holy Communion; he’d love to see his brother’s face at that moment, but the thought of having to actually sit through the service was so unappealing that he contented himself with imagining Thomas’ reaction.
They were going to go to Mass on Christmas Day, however. Both of them. He had insisted, even though Kate protested that she’d vowed never to set foot inside a church again. He’d started to laugh when she told him but quickly realised from her glare that it wasn’t a joke.
‘But Christmas Day is special,’ he said.
‘So let’s spend it together in here.’
‘I want to go, and I want you to be with me.’
‘But why?’
‘Just to say thanks.’
‘To Thomas?’
‘No, to God.’
‘What for?’
‘…For you.’
He could almost feel the heat of her blushing cheeks and he grinned at her discomfort.
‘I could dig you in the ribs right this very second, Mick Costello, and then where would that smile be?’
He held up his hands in mock surrender but he could tell she wasn’t annoyed at all.
‘Well, maybe I better go and thank him as well then,’ she said, cuddling into him and wrapping her arm across his bandaged chest.
‘What for, then?’
‘Don’t you go fishing for compliments,’ she said, nipping the skin of his arm. ‘I don’t want you getting all big-headed now.’
When they stood outside, Kate seemed reluctant to let go of his sleeve and he had to prise her fingers off his jacket.
‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, kissing the tip of her nose as she frowned. He started laughing, even after she playfully punched his arm.
Each step seemed like a shuffle to Mick and anyone would have been hard pushed to get a cigarette paper under his feet when they moved. He did try lifting them off the ground but it felt like his boots were made of concrete and the effort of trying to walk was draining his energy. Still, he was determined to get to the end of the road on his own, even if he had to wait for Kate to come and help him back to the house.
He could hear her shouts of encouragement as he got closer to the end of the street. He still found it strange to accept that this was the limit of his physical exertions, though he kept telling himself it wouldn’t always be this bad. He remembered his flight from Ireland, and the pursuit through misty fields, thinking it had been so long ago, when the fact that it remained fresh in his mind reminded him that it had happened less than three months ago.
There were only about another ten steps to go, and he thought of the cigarette he would have as a reward when he stopped. It was enough of an incentive to boost his shuffling and he managed to get to the end of the building within a couple of minutes, grateful for its solid presence to lean against as he kept breathing in and out quickly until there was a regular pattern to it once more.
He stood up and waved back at Kate who remained outside the front of the church house, jumping up and down and waving both her arms. He could hear her joyful shouts and pictured the smile on her face, which always made him smile as well. He gestured for her to come to him and she started running up the street. He hoped she wouldn’t jump straight into his arms. For one thing, he didn’t have the strength and he knew his ribs couldn’t cope with the impact.
Rummaging in the coat pocket, Mick brought out his cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth, searching in the other pocket for matches. One was struck against the tenement wall and he looked up quickly.
‘Fancy a light then, Mick?’ said a voice that Mick vaguely recognised, and a hand held out a flame that flickered briefly in the winter chill before it was extinguished. Mick’s cigarette hung limply from his lips as the match was flicked away. A tall, burly man stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, lifting him off his feet and carrying him to the cart which sat out of sight, just yards from the tenement corner.
Mick was once again flying, though only for a brief second as he was thrown onto the back of the cart. He landed roughly and it felt like someone had stamped on his ribs all over again. He groaned as the man jumped up behind him, dragging a heavy cover over him and then sitting down on top of him. The weight was squeezing the air out of his lungs at an alarming rate and Mick slammed his good arm on the floor until the man stood up.
The cover was dragged back until his head was visible as the cart started moving briskly. Then another face was close to his.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ a voice whispered. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment.’
Mick tried to look away but a hand grabbed his chin and forced him to remain staring at a cold, grinning face.
‘We’ve got a lot to catch up on,’ he said. ‘And there will be no running away this time.’
Mick stared back for a few seconds before he spat in the man’s face. He let go of Mick and stood up, wiping his cheek with the back of his black leather glove. He moved forward and made to kick his prisoner, but
stopped as Mick tensed, ready for the blow.
‘Patience is a virtue,’ the man said. ‘And I’ve got all the time in the world.’
16
VANISHING ACT
One moment he had been standing at the end of the street, waving at her as she raced towards him, the next he was gone. Her heart, which had been beating with excitement the closer she got to him now seemed to freeze and it felt like she was running on air, moving her arms and legs frantically but not getting anywhere fast. She wanted to shout out his name as a cry for help; even if it was to be the last thing he ever heard, she was determined that it would be her voice, but her mouth could only open and shut again, taking gulps of air which filled up her lungs and caused her to choke.
‘NO!’ she eventually managed to scream, and the sound seemed to give her a burst of energy and she ran and stumbled and fell and picked herself up and sprinted again to the end of the street. Almost crashing round the corner, she caught the briefest glimpse of a cart as it disappeared down another street and out of sight. She looked around, frantically searching for Mick but knowing that he was gone. A young mother dragging a crying toddler roughly by the hand passed by on the opposite pavement and Kate ran blindly across the road.
‘Did you see what happened, missus?’ she blurted out as the woman recoiled, grabbing the little boy and sheltering him within the folds of her skirt.
‘There was a man, just there, on the corner,’ Kate said, pointing to where Mick had been standing. ‘They took him. Just this minute. You must have seen them?’
The woman shook her head quickly and started to edge past Kate, keeping her back to the tenement wall and a secure grip of her son.