The Bombs That Brought Us Together

by Brian Conaghan

  I didn’t want to do it.

  But,

  I needed to do it.

  Mum needed me to do it.

  Pav needed me to do it.

  The Big Man was making me do it.

  But,

  I didn’t want to do it.

  31

  War

  I was glad when Friday arrived. School was rough. Everyone gawking at my eye. Asking awkward questions about Bones, Max, Pav and Erin F. Such a drag. In reality I wasn’t glad about anything. I was wandering around in a daze, thinking: this time next week I’ll have blood on my hands, death on my soul. Those guns sat heavily on my shoulders, weighing me down with all their firepower. The shed was the only place I could go to think. The only place that could provide sanctuary. That’s where I went after school.

  ‘Just passing and thought I’d pop in.’ I almost hit the shed roof with terror when I opened the door and saw The Big Man perched on the chair, staring ahead at me. ‘See how you were doing; see how the plans were coming along …’

  ‘Erm … well …’

  ‘See if you still remembered our little deal, what to do and whatnot.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said all enthusiastically because I didn’t want him to know that I was so consumed by fear. That it was all I could think about.

  ‘Can’t have you running scared on me, can I?’ he said.

  ‘No … no way.’

  ‘Your mate’s family don’t want any heat on them, do they now?’

  ‘Erm … don’t think so, Big Man.’

  ‘Don’t think so? Have you any idea what would happen to them if those Old Country bastards knew refugees were hiding guns in their garden? Some of their own turning on them? Have you a scintilla of an idea what would happen, Charlie?’

  ‘Erm … I think that –’

  ‘And imagine if some of our boys found out that info as well.’ The Big Man licked his lips, looked up. ‘She’s a fine-looking woman, that Duda woman. Shame!’

  ‘They’re not the ones hiding the guns,’ I said.

  The Big Man laughed. I could hear the phlegm rattling in his big chest.

  If anyone came for Pav and his fine-looking mum and brainbox dad, would I tell them that the shed was mine? That I was the one hiding the guns? Would I admit that to Old Country troops? Would it matter if they believed me or not?

  ‘I’d start thinking about it if I were you. Get your head in the game.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Start thinking about the most unimaginable torture techniques known to civilisation.’

  ‘Well … OK.’

  ‘Have you any idea what a starved and ravished rat will do to an exposed arsehole?’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about it, Big Man,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t get smart, Charlie. This shit is serious. All it will take is a little word in some Old Country bastard’s shell and they’ll be round here in blink time. All heavy-handed and tooled up. They won’t care if it wasn’t the Dudas keeping guns, Charlie. There’s nothing those bastards like more than a traitor. Everyone saves the worst for traitors. That’s what I’m talking about … so are we clear?’

  I didn’t know how to reply because I didn’t know what we were being clear about. Was he threatening me or Pav? Don’t be stupid, Charlie, of course he was.

  ‘I said are we clear?’

  ‘Yes, we’re clear.’

  ‘Good. I know I can count on you, Charlie. You’ve got something the others never had.’ He tapped his temple with his finger, like he’d done previously. ‘That’s why they didn’t make it.’

  DIDN’T MAKE WHAT?

  I was too afraid to ask, not because I was interested in the plight of his rascal cronies, but in case he informed me that it was now just me and him against Old Country. I thought about what Mercy had said on the bus, about not looking over my shoulder any longer and how things could be in the future. I didn’t want to return to the days of curfews, searches and patrols. I didn’t want to return to the ineffectual Regime and bullying Rascals. I wanted to walk freely, to study, to learn, to work and be who I wanted to be within the law. I wanted to have mates from inside the border and from outside the border. I also wanted Erin F, but that was a different issue altogether.

  If it were just me and The Big Man then we’d be fooked, as Pav would say.

  ‘How’s your mum, by the way?’

  ‘OK, good.’

  ‘Still on these?’ he said, pulling out a brown paper bag from inside his leather jacket. He shook the bag. ‘I’d say all this debris dust doesn’t help with her breathing.’

  ‘It doesn’t, no.’

  He reached inside the bag, took out an inhaler and waved it at me.

  ‘She must be going through these like they’re water now, eh?’

  ‘Erm …’

  ‘Pity that chemist is still not operating.’

  I kept my eyes on the bag. It was bulging; must have been at least six months’ supply in there, enough to see her through to the birth of a new chemist. Things were happening in Little Town; shops were slowly getting fixed and services were being resumed. Even my dad said so. Although I’d know it was fully repaired when my stomach didn’t rumble as often.

  I switched between looking at The Big Man’s hand, the bag and his eyes. He kept his eyes on mine, twiddling the little plastic inhaler in his fingers.

  ‘So, Charlie, do we have a deal?’

  I didn’t blink.

  ‘Do we understand one another?’

  I didn’t speak.

  My head nodded instead.

  ‘We’re on?’ he said.

  I nodded again.

  ‘I want to hear you say it.’

  He glanced at the inhaler and the brown bag.

  ‘Be a shame to burn all this … I want to hear you say it.’

  My mouth was dry. I opened it.

  ‘We’re on,’ I whispered.

  ‘Sorry, can’t hear you, Charlie. Speak up a bit.’

  ‘We’re on,’ I said.

  ‘Sure about that?’

  ‘Yes. Sure I’m sure.’

  ‘Excellent!’ he said, rising from the chair. He walked towards me and put his face close to mine. Close enough to kiss. ‘Rats and arseholes, Charlie. Rats and arseholes. Not a good combination, know what I mean?’

  ‘Think so.’

  ‘Good, so you enjoy the weekend and I’ll see you Tuesday.’

  I glanced at the bag.

  ‘And you’ll get this inhaler swag when the job’s done, OK?’

  ‘Can I just have one now though, Big Man?’

  ‘When it’s done. When it’s done.’ He patted me on the shoulder and left the shed.

  I flopped down in the chair The Big Man had vacated. It was still hot. I gritted my teeth and tried everything to hold in my tears. I sat in silence. Wished that I’d never laid eyes on Pav. That I didn’t live in Little Town. That I hadn’t asked Norman to get some crap chairs. That I was not here. That I could just escape. Maybe escape with Pav.

  I stared at the floorboard.

  I guess I needed some practice.

  32

  Kissed

  I hardly slept. On the Monday morning I felt exhausted. All I wanted to do was curl up, not think about the future and try to get some sleep. All weekend I thought about possibilities of escape: feigning illness, wandering the streets or running away. To where though? Anyway, the streets were still off limits. And that would do nothing to help Pav’s family or my mum’s breathing.

  ‘Charlie, get up, you’re going to be late,’ Mum whispered. Each day her voice was losing its penetrating power.

  I wasn’t going to be late. I was never late. Mum just wanted those who lived in the same house as her not to be getting under her feet. I knew her game by this stage. There wasn’t a hope in hell that I’d ever be allowed to stay off again. Maybe if my head had been dangling from a slither of ligament I would be allowed to stay in bed. But my black eye had cleared up so there was no chance. I had
to get up, shake life into myself and get on with it. Leave the thoughts of the weekend behind. Put that head in a drawer for a few hours.

  I placed Pav’s note and The Big Man’s note into my Moleskine, left without saying goodbye.

  I thought people were staring at me, that they somehow knew what I was about to do. What I was about to become. Who I really was. I convinced myself they were all whispering behind my back; someone would definitely grass me up, go running to Old Country troops and blurt out what they’d heard. Their reward was to watch me being frogmarched out of school … never to return … never to be seen again.

  Stop being paranoid. No one knows jack!

  Mercy Lewis continued to ask about Pav; it made me slightly jealous that someone wasn’t showing the same level of concern about me. Maybe if I lived in a place where they spoke a different lingo, someone would see the pain in my face and the isolation in my heart too and take pity on me. Or just plain fancy me.

  Dream on, Charlie.

  There’s always a positive in a negative. Bones and Max seemed like a bad memory, as their seats on the bus were now filled with other bums. I didn’t mention to anyone what had happened to Bones and Max, or what I thought had happened to them. I’d a fair idea.

  When the bus dropped us off at school, people still mingled and spoke about very little, shouted into each other’s faces, made wild gestures. That’s school for you. The empty chairs in the classrooms remained empty. Those people weren’t coming back. Nothing changed.

  Well, not quite.

  I spied her in the crowd. That hair. That stance. That movement of her head. I saw her. And she knew it because she spied me too. That awkwardness. That grimace. That foot shuffle. It was all I could offer. Our eyes met, and when I say met I mean we locked them together for more than a few seconds. Five, easy. After the look she was on the hoof, heading my way. Towards me. She wasn’t sheep-walking nor striding either. She walked slower. Where had she been? Her hair appeared injured; it didn’t have the same fullness about it. But still cracking nevertheless. Thankfully she couldn’t see the car crash that was occurring inside my body, things piling up on top of each other, everything careering out of control. Sheer carnage. My face was the same as someone who’d just seen a ghost. Her mouth shifted position. As she got closer to me, a tiny unsure smile appeared on her face. I followed her lead. I sucked in as much oxygen as my lungs could take. This was it. Any worry I had for her evaporated in that instant. I was delighted that she wasn’t lying face down in some manky ditch somewhere. I really was.

  Keep cool, my old son. Stand up straight, shoulders back.

  ‘Hi, Charlie,’ Erin F said.

  ‘Hi, Erin F,’ I said, trying to sound cool and indifferent. I sounded more like a doe-eyed dope though.

  ‘Sorry I missed you in school last week.’

  What? She missed me? Like actually missed me?

  ‘Was everything OK, Erin F?’

  ‘Yes, well …’

  SHE missed ME!

  ‘I was worried when you didn’t show up,’ I said.

  ‘Aw, that’s nice, Charlie. Really it is.’ Her hand brushed my wrist as if I needed consoling. I thought my throat was going to burst out of my mouth and scud Erin F full force in the kisser.

  ‘I thought something terrible had happened to you,’ I said.

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s sweet.’

  ‘I thought that maybe Old Country nabbed you or something like that.’

  Erin F chuckled. ‘No, it wasn’t quite like that. I wish it had been; that sounds exciting.’

  ‘I even came to look for you, you know.’

  ‘Really?’ Her eyes widened. Wow was the only word. She was impressed with my brave man action.

  ‘Yes, but they stopped me on the hill and … and … anyway, that’s boring now. How are –’

  ‘I was in hospital, Charlie. With Mum. She was in a bad way last week and badly needed hospital treatment.’

  ‘What, like proper hospital in Little Town?’

  ‘Yes, proper hospital, but far away from Little Town. In Old Country actually. They were the ones who took us there.’

  ‘Old Country did?’

  Erin F’s mum was lucky to have avoided treatment in Little Town hospital, which was a health hazard itself.

  ‘So, wait,’ I said. ‘You went to Old Country last week. To hospital in Old Country?’

  ‘Yes, in a helicopter.’

  ‘No way, an actual helicopter?’

  ‘They’re massive inside, not what you’d think,’ Erin F said.

  ‘God, sorry to hear that, Erin F.’

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘I hope she’s going to be OK.’

  Erin F squeezed her lips tightly together, as if she didn’t know how to answer. I’d seen that look in class as well. Even though it was a travesty for humanity that Erin F’s mum had been sick enough for an actual helicopter hospital visit, I was delighted inside because it meant that Erin F hadn’t been snatched off the street. Progress.

  ‘She is going to be OK, isn’t she?’

  ‘I hope so, Charlie. I really hope so.’

  ‘I hope so too, Erin F.’

  ‘I’d still like to visit that shed of yours, you know.’

  ‘Anytime you want. It would be great to show you it. You’d think it was brilliant.’

  ‘I’m sure I would.’

  Erin F blew her nose with a real hanky, similar to the one Mercy Lewis gave Pav. I shifted my bag from shoulder to shoulder. Erin F coughed. Then again, harder.

  Say something! Don’t just stand there like a fart in a trance.

  ‘It was good of Old Country to allow you to use their hospital.’

  NOT THAT!

  ‘Amazing.’

  ‘What was it like?’

  ‘Different … clean … nice.’

  ‘If they had a decent hospital here, not like the manky one we have now, your mum wouldn’t need to travel,’ I said.

  ‘I heard that they might build a brand spanking new one here,’ she said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘God, that would be great.’

  Erin F smiled. I returned it. We shared a raised eyebrow. The bell rang to save an awkward moment.

  ‘I’d better get going, Charlie. Double geography. I’ve missed a lot already.’

  ‘Yeah, double Classics for me.’

  ‘I best rush.’

  ‘OK, see you later,’ I said. ‘Maybe at break?’

  ‘Good plan.’

  Erin F went to go, but before she did she made a little ballet dance move to pivot back to me. I smelt her. Her fresh woman smell shot up my nose.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ she said.

  ‘It’s this Saturday,’ I said.

  ‘Well, happy birthday for this Saturday then.’

  Then came the best thing that had happened to me in my life so far, and that’s no exaggeration: Erin F leaned up and pecked me on the cheek. Not a wet, sloppy one, but a real, genuine kiss. Pucker-lipped. The best moment ever.

  ‘Have a good morning, Charlie,’ she said.

  ‘You too, Erin F.’ At least I think that’s what I said.

  You hear about those crazy people not wanting to wash their hands or face after someone kisses them; well, I’d just joined their ranks. I was hovering on cloud nine. No, cloud ninety-nine. The monster didn’t like being that high up though. There’s always someone to put a damper on life’s delights.

  Don’t forget you have a job to do, Charlie. Don’t forget what happened on Friday. Don’t forget about your responsibilities. Remember The Big Man? Remember rats and arseholes?

  I dropped a few clouds.

  33

  Bang! Bang!

  On the bus home I felt my cheek, stroked the part where her lips had touched me. God, what a sensation. I stood up to get off near the bottom of the hill.

  ‘This isn’t your stop, Charlie,’ Mercy Lewis
said.

  ‘I know, I’ve just –’

  ‘Where are you going?’ She caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say. There was no reason for anyone to get off the bus at the bottom of the hill. All the shops were damaged; it was seen as the injured part of town. Old Country troops driving up and down, day and night. I had no need to be there.

  ‘I’m going to see if the chemist is open,’ I said.

  ‘Charlie, you know the chemist isn’t open, so …’

  ‘No, I mean, I’m going to see when it will reopen.’

  Mercy wasn’t buying it. Her eyes tightened.

  ‘You’re up to something, Charlie Law, I can tell,’ she said, pointing her finger at me.

  ‘I’m not, seriously.’ I was going to say promise at the end, but then she’d have known for certain that I was up to something.

  ‘Mmm, we’ll see.’

  Once off the bus, I made my way to the place, constantly looking over my shoulder in case any eyes were on me. Looking left and right to see if I was being followed. Keeping my ears open for the sound of the chugging vehicles. I could make out the sun glistening off some of the shops in the distance, meaning that new glass had been put in. Progress was being made. I picked up a stick, six inches long. Perfect size.

  I arrived without anyone spying me. There I was again, huddled behind some boulders, out of sight, hidden. On my hunkers waiting until the chug sound arrived from the other side of the hill. A few cars drove over it, two buses – one from school and one with clean-up workers aboard. I put my school bag down at my feet and held on to the stick tightly.

  MENTAL MEMO: ON THE DAY OF THE DEED MAKE SURE YOU’RE NOT CARRYING A BAG. PUT THE MERCH INSIDE A BACKPACK. EASIER TO RUN WITH THAT ON.

  About seven cigarette butts surrounded my bag. Maybe a day old. Hours old? One by one I flicked them away with the stick.

  I didn’t check the time. My focus was too strong. I concentrated on being as still as concrete. I even tried not to blink and regulated my breathing. Deep breaths through the nose, slowly exhaling out of the mouth, helps the heart rate normalise itself. It didn’t work; it was as if there was a massive bass drum beating away inside me. My hands were sweating so much I had to rub them dry on my thighs. I didn’t look but I knew there was a palm mark on my trousers afterwards. I didn’t dare look away.