As his mum used to say, time and tide wait for no man, and change was coming.
Apart from the donkey communication, Darren’s letters always started the same and this one was no different. He slumped on the sofa and as always read it aloud, imagining Darren’s face and voice as he did so.
‘Dear Will.
You are a dick.
Obviously due to the top secret nature of manoeuvres I am unable to reveal everything, however I have drunk vast oceans of beer, and pleasured many women.
Finally we are being sent into full combat roles. I might as well have stayed at home if I had known I would have to wait until I was eighteen before I would actually be allowed to shoot at people! I think about you guys a lot.
I have been all over the shop, Germany and Ireland to name a few, but it will be cranked up a notch at a date in the near future.
Thanks for the letters, they follow us around, but eventually catch up with me.
Sorry I haven’t been back yet, but I haven’t been able to face it.
Tell Aiden I love his news, but I could still kick his ass, and tell Carl to buy some johnnies. I will be home soon. D.
Will smiled, stood up and stuffed the letter into the back pocket of his jeans. The house was quiet and he felt restless as he wandered around the rooms. His girlfriend Sara had asked him to come round but his probing hands had been halted by her at second base and listening to her gabble on about her desire to be a vet wasn’t worth the lack of progress. Thank the Lord she was off to study at Liverpool soon and he could extricate himself from what was rapidly becoming an unsatisfying association. A shiver had gone through his spine last week when she had mentioned marriage admittedly in an incredibly roundabout way, but he had stared at her in shock, a bell in his head tolling the end of their brief union.
He checked his watch and saw it was five p.m. He decided to go and see Darren’s dad anyway. When he had received Darren’s first letter he had wondered whether Darren had written to his father and decided to go and see him. Of all the moments of that terrible day it was for some reason the last comments from Mr Connor about coming back that were imprinted clearly in his mind.
He had tried to put reason to going there, saying he was easing a tired man’s loneliness, but deep down he knew he was betraying his friend. Every time on the way there he had convinced himself this was the last time, but his dad had been so grateful, it never was. He would listen with a focused but ecstatic look on his face and usually ask him to read it again. He never mentioned why Darren wasn’t writing to him and Will didn’t bring it up.
He had ended up staying longer and longer on each visit. The stories he told were amazing. Tough times in Ireland, missions abroad and even the tale of the Falklands War and the grenade that had robbed him of his raison d’etre were told vividly and humbly. He did say his wife had left him, but had not offered an explanation. The man had given everything for England, but now sadly, he just drank for England.
He would crack open a beer at midday, no earlier but rarely later and by late afternoon he would be steaming. It was then Will had learnt to leave. He would become aggressive, confused and belligerent. He would tail off mid-sentence and slip into a thousand-yard stare. Will had wondered where he got his booze from, but once his leaving had coincided with a taxi arriving and he saw the man walk to the front door with a clinking carrier bag.
* * *
Will left his bike in the back garden and let himself in the kitchen door at the rear of the house. He regretted it almost instantly. Mr Connor was slumped in the wheelchair next to the phone in the hall and stared at Will with bleary eyes.
‘I got a letter,’ Will said.
‘Read it,’ was the slurred response. So he did. When he had finished he looked into the man’s eyes and saw fury. ‘Come here,’ he drawled and beckoned Will over. When he was within arm’s length the man burst into a foul-mouthed tirade.
‘That ungrateful little shit. I gave him everything. All my experience, all my time and the littler fucker doesn’t give a shit. I knew he was a bad egg, I tried to knock it out of him, but he’s rotten. You fucking kids are all the same.’
Will was too stunned to move and looked at him slack-jawed. He then stared in amazement as Darren’s dad took what looked like a rounder’s bat from his lap and proceeded to swing it at Will’s head. Maybe it was the fact he was slaughtered that gave Will the time to react, or maybe the years had slowed his arm, but Will managed to grab the bottom of the weapon and stop the blow in mid-air, inches from his face.
They stood locked together, both straining for heavy seconds, before Will yanked it away from him. The sudden movement caused the wheelchair to topple over and Darren’s dad fell to the side and his head hit the tiled floor with a heavy smack. Will backed away from the groaning figure, an incredulous look on his face. Shaking his head he let himself out and quietly walked his bike down the empty street, vowing never to return.
14
13th August 1992
Will arrived outside the Anne Boleyn at seven p.m. It was a warm night and he just had a smart shirt and jeans on. He could see Aiden walking towards him in the distance, dwarfing those around him, so lighting a cigarette and leaning against the wall he waited for him. Funny he thought how they spent so much time here now. They were old enough to get into any pub, yet they chose to spend a lot of time here. Tonight they had planned to down a few and then go into town. They often said that, but rarely did they leave. Will still felt spooked about what had happened the day before and was looking forward to a few beers and forgetting about things for a while.
The pub had actually become quite popular with the sixth form at the school. Will used to ponder how it wasn’t raided, but there was never any trouble. Maybe they knew and thought at least it keeps the kids out of town. The landlord now was in the final stages of his self-destruction and was virtually unseen. Falling objects, possibly himself being one, on the ceiling above were usually the only signs of his existence. Death by alcohol was the slowest suicide on the planet, but a popular one.
Angela ran the show now and actually ran a tight bar. A cousin had arrived from somewhere in Ireland to help. Between them they coped with the trade and if there was any over exuberance Aiden was happy to go and ask them why they were trying to ruin his night which usually cued much back-peddling. It just wasn’t that sort of place.
They walked in together and found Carl at the bar. He had been there for a while judging by his pint. They had for some reason got into the habit of going out the night before big events, dragging two nights out of any birthday, Christmas and even once a driving test. Aiden’s nervy failure the next day had curtailed that particular celebration. Carl was giving what he thought was full patter to the Irish girl, Mary Rose.
He was only good for about two pints, then he would start to wilt like a flower in the midday sun. He had a real thing for Mary Rose, much to the others amusement. She was an unusual looking girl with mad, curly black hair, as pasty as Carl and had small mouse-like features. Carl called her ‘The adorable squirrel’ and by pint three he would lose his composure and be begging her for a date until she laughingly told him to feck off.
They took their drinks to the pool table and Aiden and Will started a game. Carl used to watch like they were performing incredible magic tricks, his pool skills on a par with his ball catching efforts. As Will potted the black with his back to the door, he saw Aiden and Carl look wide eyed over his shoulder. Turning round he saw two men at the door. One was a wiry and fit-looking black lad of about eighteen with a serious look on his face. The other was Darren.
They stared at each other for a few seconds before Darren’s face broke into a cheesy grin and he walked over to Will and gave him a bear hug. Will could feel the hard muscle of Darren’s back as he squeezed him in return. ‘Welcome home,’ he said.
As Darren hugged the others, Will shook the stranger’s hand. He introduced himself as Dean. He seemed keen to go to the bar, so Will accepted h
is offer of a pint and went and joined the others at a table. Darren was explaining his absence, and his return.
‘After what happened I felt so angry I didn’t know what to do with my time except to stew on things. I just threw myself into getting fit as fuck and being exhausted was the only way I could sleep. Every time I saw you guys, I re-lived that moment when I found out. I stopped coming to the pub as the hangover the day after was so bad I thought life was meaningless and had dangerous thoughts.
When I got to the division training camp it was insane. The training was full on and no-one knew anything so I gradually got through it. I didn’t come home at all and I went to Dean’s house on leave. We joined up on the same day. He is the only one who knows. I planned to come back soon anyway but I got a call from the police this morning.’ He paused and took a sip of his beer, seemingly enjoying their looks and raised eyebrows .He then stood up and grinned, ‘Just nipping to the bog.’
Will felt the temperature go up in the room, feeling as though he was being pulled toward a giant sun. His back suddenly itched and he felt sweat beads begin to form on his forehead. His mouth dried and his extremities tingled.
‘Nice to have Darren back.’ Aiden said.
‘You docile donkey. What about the police thing?’ Carl looked at him and shook his head.
All three friends turned their heads to Dean, who raised his hands in mock surrender.
‘It’s not for me to tell you. It’s shocking news though,’ he said with a straight face.
As Darren returned, Will feigned a cough so he didn’t have to look at him. He was sure his friend would clock his worried face. His left leg seemed to be twitching of its own accord as Darren sat next to him. He straightened it out under the table and even though he was dying to slam the table with his hand and scream ‘Spit it out’ at Darren he dare not say a word. He took a huge gulp of his drink but then found he couldn’t swallow it.
Carl put him out of his misery by saying, ‘Spill the beans then Darren.’
Darren looked round the table and then whispered, ‘My dad is dead.’
Will choked and then sprayed the drink in his mouth in a great spume that covered Dean in frothy lager from head to waist. There was a terrible silence as Will looked at Dean’s shocked face. He stood up and quietly uttered, ‘Shit, man.’
The charged atmosphere was extinguished by Darren, Aiden, Carl and then finally Dean bursting into laughter. Will thought his heart may give in. He quickly fired off, ‘Sorry. That is shocking news,’ but still couldn’t bring himself to join in with the chuckling. He was itching to ask how, but didn’t want to appear desperately interested to see if his life was going to be blown apart.
‘He had a care worker who came every morning to get him up and stuff,’ Darren continued in a conspirator’s tone. ‘She found him in the kitchen this morning in his wheelchair still. His chair had toppled over and he had hit his head. The floor was a complete pool of blood apparently. He had probably been there for hours and eventually bled out. Nice way to go according to the Doctor who said he would have felt dizziness and a weird light-headedness before passing out. That’s assuming of course that he didn’t spend the last few desperate hours of his life hoarsely shouting for help that would never arrive, as that would be a really nasty way to go.’
‘I’m sorry mate. How are you feeling?’ Aiden reached over and touched Darren’s hand.
‘OK,’ Darren simply said. ‘He should have died years ago.’ He stood up and left them all with shocked expressions on their faces and went to the bar. ‘Five lagers please,’ he said to Angela who had come down to the bar to do a stock take and was looking at him like she had just seen Kermit the Frog walk in. ‘Alright darling,’ Darren schmoozed to her.
Will said to Dean, who was drying his face with a bar towel that a laughing Mary Rose had thrown at him, ‘Come on, I’ll show you where the toilets are.’ As he walked out of the bar he looked at the quiet interplay between Darren and Angela. Something was awry. She had been keen as mustard that GCSE results night. Will had left them snogging in the bar at the end of the night, the only ones left. They hadn’t been back to the pub for a while after that as Darren had been AWOL, Aiden at home and Carl abroad with his family. When they did come back she never asked after him and he didn’t want to bring the sensitive subject up with Aiden as his sister had still been warm and her boyfriend was copping off with a barmaid. Wheeler did say people would react in a strange way. Angela seemed wary now though, like someone letting a dog back in the house after it had bitten someone.
The toilets had improved moderately under the girl’s efforts. They had been cleaned and there was actually soap but the acrid smell of urine still made your teeth itch the moment you opened the door. He held Dean’s shirt under the hairdryer to dry it, shocked that it was actually working, as Dean washed his face and arms, grimacing at the cold water.
‘Your mates didn’t seem very shocked by his dad dying.’
‘They had never met him,’ Will replied without thinking.
Dean stopped what he was doing and looked at Will with a confused look on his face.
‘Really?’
Will nodded, praying that he wouldn’t ask if he had met the deceased. He tried to move things long.
‘He keeps his cards close to his chest and his dad wasn’t very well.’
‘Aye, that’s true enough. His dad though was a total legend in the para’s. A real hero. He got the Distinguished Conduct Medal after the Falklands. A very tough man apparently. The acorn hasn’t fallen far from the tree either as Darren is a double hard bastard. We had an instructor for unarmed combat who used to be a martial arts expert. After six months Darren could easily beat him so they had to bring in some bloke from America to push him.’
As he put his shirt on, he paused and seemingly weighed the question up before finally asking it, ‘This girl who died. Were they close?’
‘Like atoms,’ Will said.
Dean took a deep breath and then surprised Will.
‘We need to look after him, he is close to the edge. He needs a war to focus on. Let’s hope today’s news doesn’t push him over the edge. He has issues.’
Will waited for him to continue but he was just searching Will’s face as if looking for confirmation.
‘Do you know how his father got injured?’ Will responded.
‘Yes, the whole battalion knows. He was a brave man, brilliant under fire and was well respected. His team would have followed him anywhere. He stormed a machine gun nest at Goose Green in the Falklands War and saved some men who were outnumbered and pinned down. He killed all the ones who didn’t abandon the post except one young soldier, a boy really. He only looked sixteen and was lying on the floor crying in the aftermath. He had a young son of his own at the time, Darren was nine I think and maybe that is why he took his eye off the ball for a second. As he picked him up off the floor the boy released a grenade which he had been holding. Blew the boy to pieces and took some important bits of Darren’s dad too.’
Will took a deep breath and thought so Mr Connor had been telling the truth when he had been talking to Will, however he had not mentioned the age of the soldier.
As they walked back into the bar Darren came bounding over.
‘You took your time boys, you bum each other or something? You should have taken Carl with you, I said I would get him laid.’
As the night went on the drink flowed and the usual madness ensued. At one point Kostas from school turned up. Will suspected it was a close call as to whether he instantly soiled himself, so surprised and nervous was he at unexpectedly finding Darren in there. Darren however was all full of bonhomie and forgiveness, so Kostas stayed until near the end when he was ejected by Mary-Rose for being sick on the juke box. Carl passed out and Aiden picked him up like he was a sleeping child and carried him home. Soon it was just Dean, Will and Darren at the bar.
‘When is the funeral?’ Will slurred.
Darren, who had been drinking
like he had been bitten by a snake and beer was the antidote, still seemed relatively normal.
‘God knows. I won’t be going anyway. We are due to be leaving tomorrow. Fuck him anyway,’ he replied aggressively.
Will was shocked by the statement, but he had seen the drunken violent nature of his father first hand. Still it seemed a bit harsh he thought, after all he had done for his country. Suddenly Angela appeared and dragged Darren to the dance floor, somehow getting the soiled jukebox to play Boys to Men’s ‘End of the Road’.
As they watched the smooch descend into a full on snog Will said to Dean, ‘Surely he will go to the funeral won’t he? I’d have thought he would be organising it.’
‘God knows mate. Still after all those years of abuse, kicking the shit out of his mother until she had enough and left and then turning his attention to Darren you can’t blame him. Apparently he had a bat which he used to hit him with. He told me all this the one time I saw him really drunk, but I guess you already know this.’
Will tried to get his fuzzed up mind to work and process everything but his brain couldn’t hold the information. It was like trying to catch thick gravy in a colander.
‘Sometimes he would wake him up by hitting him with it through the covers,’ he continued. ‘Darren never fought back until the night he left for basic training. He still feels guilty about it now.’
Will stood there stunned. All those years of Darren coming to school with bruises and marks and them all thinking he had been scrapping again. All he could utter was the same phrase as Dean earlier, ‘Shit, man.’
Lazy Blood: a powerful page-turning thriller Page 9