by Martina Cole
Declan looked around the bar. There was no doubt that, for a private drinking club, it had a very good feel to it. No one got in unless they were members, and Michael and he agreed the memberships! How fucking neat was that? He could come here knowing that he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone that he didn’t want to.
He gestured to the barmaid for another drink, and she did as he requested immediately. It was early evening and the place was nearly empty. It didn’t really liven up till later, so he was enjoying the quiet. He picked up his Jack Daniel’s and Coke and, raising his glass towards the barmaid, he took a long drink.
Michael came down the stairs a few seconds later, all smiles, which pleased Declan. The man was finally looking relaxed again.
The barmaid was tiny – under five feet tall, and she had the smallest hands and feet Declan had ever seen on a grown woman. Her hair, on the other hand was huge. It was beautiful, her crowning glory, and she was always smiling. She had that kind of nature – she was a glass-half-full girl, as she had told Declan on more than one occasion. She automatically mixed Michael Flynn a large vodka and tonic.
He took it from her with a smile and, turning to Declan, he said happily, ‘I needed this, Declan. It’s been a fucking mad day.’ He took a large gulp of his drink; it was strong, even for him.
‘So? How was Josephine?’
Michael shrugged. ‘Same old, same old!’
Declan laughed then. ‘Hark at you! Who’d have thought it, eh?’
Michael lit a cigarette, and he pulled on it quickly. As he blew out the smoke, he said honestly, ‘I never thought we would ever have broken up. But we have, and I’m glad.’ Michael grinned suddenly. Then, leaning forward, he said quietly, ‘I have some news for you, Declan – you’re the first person to know.’
Declan laughed at his mate’s cloak-and-dagger voice. ‘Oh yeah? So what is it, then?’
Michael Flynn grinned happily. ‘Katie’s pregnant. It wasn’t planned, but I’ve got to tell you, Declan, I’m over the fucking moon.’
Declan Costello was taken aback, but he recovered quickly. ‘Congratulations, mate. How old is Katie anyway?’
Michael gestured to the barmaid to refill their glasses.
‘She’s twenty-six. Not as young as she looks. But still a lot younger than me! Josephine has already pointed that out today. But I don’t give a toss, Declan. I really care about her, and I think she does me. And I want a child, I want a child of my own. I will marry her, Declan, and I will give her and my babies the world.’
Declan Costello was speechless.
Michael Flynn looked into his friend’s stunned countenance and he said gaily, ‘I’m the wrong side of fifty, and I have nothing left, other than Jake, of course. I want what I never had, Declan – a couple of kids, nice kids, and a woman who isn’t a fucking walking headcase. Josephine’s doctor told me that nothing I could have done would have changed her life. She has a personality disorder. I always thought it was my fault that she wasn’t the full five quid. But it would have happened anyway, no matter what. Katie is fun, she makes me laugh. So much of my life was spent holding Josephine’s hand, or living down my only daughter’s antics, pretending that I didn’t care, when I did care. I cared more than I could ever let on. But not any more. That’s all over now. She’s gone – my Jessie is dead and gone. Josephine and all her fucking problems are gone. This time around I want what everyone else takes for granted. I just want a normal fucking life.’
Declan Costello smiled. He raised his glass in a toast, and he said sincerely, ‘To you, Michael, and the next generation of Flynns.’