I had watched him write that note to me.
The one with ‘next Tuesday’ when and where details in it.
The death note.
My mouth was dry.
My lips parted.
I wetted them with my tongue.
Opened my mouth wider.
I knew exactly why I was doing this.
I was waiting, waiting for it to cement itself, waiting for it to smack me good and hard, uppercut style, on the chin. The knockout blow.
Then it arrived.
WHOOSH!
How utterly thick had I been? This was a brainless schoolboy error on my part. How could I not have seen this sooner? How could someone who reads tons of books and listens intently in class have missed this glaring piece of evidence?
I produced the notes the night before the mission. The night I told Pav everything. Right before The Big Man had given me the emergency inhaler. Right before he threatened me, us, again.
‘Look at both of them,’ I said, handing Pav the two notes.
‘What I look for?’
‘Look, closely.’
I so hoped he would see exactly what I’d seen, that I wasn’t slowly going demented.
‘Do you see anything?’ I said. ‘Any similarity? Anything at all?’
‘What similarity?’
‘Look at the paper, feel it.’ Pav rubbed the two notes between each set of fingers.
‘They same, no?’ he said.
‘Exactly. They’re the same.’
‘They same paper, Charlie.’
‘Look at the writing.’ I pointed at the words on each note, trying to direct his eye.
‘What I see?’
‘Look at the letter i; there are loads of them. Look how the dots at the top are similar.’
‘I see. I see.’
‘Now look at the letters g, d and b.’
Pav scanned.
‘Same loops, eh?’ I said.
‘It is same. I think yes.’
‘And the style of the writing leans to the right.’ I illustrated this with my hand.
‘Yes. It true, Charlie. It go right.’
‘Now look at the colour of the ink.’
‘Also same?’
‘Pav?’
‘What?’
‘If it’s the same paper, the same writing style and the same bloody pen … You know what that means, don’t you?’
‘Same person,’ Pav said.
‘Spot on, Pav. It is the same person.’
‘Big Man?’
‘The Big Man himself.’
‘Fook me, Charlie.’
‘That’s who sent that note to you.’
‘Big Man bastard! But why?’
‘To put the fear of God into you,’ I said.
‘But I no threat to Big Man, Charlie. I no understand.’
‘It’s easy. The Big Man does want to get rid of you and your mum and dad. He wants to drive all Old Country people out of Little Town. But really, he wants to get at me. He wants to control me. He wants me to know that you’re genuinely scared.’
Pav glared at me. He was seething. I think he growled.
‘This not happen, Charlie. I have to make this not happen.’
‘I think I know how, Pav.’
‘How we make?’
‘First you have to go to your sister and show her the notes. Tell her everything.’
‘My sister? No ways.’ He shook his head. ‘I no do.’
‘It’s our only hope, Pav. You have to.’
Pav’s baby blue blinders controlled mine. He sat down.
‘Speak,’ he said. ‘I listen.’
‘Look, I know how to find your sister. I know where she patrols. The plan is simple. You go to her, show her the notes, explain to her what is supposed to be happening. Where and when.’
‘Simple for you,’ Pav said. ‘My sister is not the good person, Charlie.’
‘Do it for your mum. Do it for your sister. You don’t want any harm to come to her, do you?’ I looked at my shoes. ‘Do it for me, Pav. I can’t kill anyone. I don’t want to be a killer. But if I don’t, The Big Man will sort me out. And your family. He owns me, and in some way he owns you too.’
‘Short and curlies, right?’ Pav said.
‘Short and curlies, and then some,’ I said.
Pav looked at his shoes. He snorted.
‘Then what?’ he said.
‘Maybe your sister can stop The Big Man doing all this bad shit. Before it all gets out of hand.’
‘Put Big Man in jail maybe?’
‘Hopefully,’ I said. There was a silence while Pav swirled the idea around. ‘It’ll be worth it, Pav.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘OK, I do it for this reasons.’
‘You will?’
‘I do it.’
‘Brilliant.’
‘When we do?’
‘Tomorrow morning, Pav.’
‘Tomorrow morning?’
‘Time is running out; we have no other days.’
‘OK, we go tomorrow morning.’
‘So, we’ll meet at the bottom of the block as if we’re going to school. We’ll go to the hill and you wait until Captain … er … your sister’s patrol passes. They’ll stop no bother. Then you simply explain to her what is about to happen that afternoon. Easy!’
‘For you easy! What if no stop truck?’
‘You’ll have to wave your arms around.’
‘I can do,’ Pav said. ‘I can do.’
And he did. Only they didn’t arrest The Big Man that morning. They couldn’t find him in his skanky flat or in any of his regular hangouts. So Captain Duda decided that I was the one who’d bring him to them. Charlie Law, The Big Man’s little lap dog. Knowing that The Big Man had me by the short and curlies, they gathered that he wouldn’t be too far away when I brought his gun to the hill at two o’clock in the rain to kill Pav’s sister. And they were right.
40
You and I
We made the list together. I wrote it out in my best handwriting, but then I ripped it up and told Pav to write it instead. He should practise. He needed the practice. It was time to be ruthless with him. A no-mercy approach was my new philosophy. No more Mr Nice Guy teacher.
The list wasn’t very extensive:
Mineral water, still and sparkling (my choice)
Orange juice (Pav’s)
Four chocolate bars (both)
Dried fruit and nut selection (my choice)
Bunch of flowers (Pav’s)
Plastic cups (both)
Paper plates (both)
Crisps (Pav’s)
Assorted finger snacks (my choice)
Both our mums and dads gave us money to buy the stuff. I think Pav’s sister gave him a cheeky backhander too. It’d be good having a big sis or bro to hand me money from time to time. Think Mum and Dad are too old for that nonsense now. Who knows? We’ll see.
We went to the shops in the morning to get the gear. It was the first time I’d ever shopped for my own stuff that wasn’t a book. When we walked past The New Bookshop I tried to drag Pav inside for a quick browse, but he was having none of it.
‘Don’t be crazy academic, Charlie. We have the ton work to do.’ Trying to get Pav inside the bookshop was a bit like asking the old Regime to vote for free elections. Things were about to get rougher for Pav though, you see; we had made a pact to drag his scrawny arse in there, and the school library, as much as possible. He would have no choice other than to learn the lingo properly.
When the shed was all set we sat in the chairs and tried to slow our heartbeats down. My backside was flapping. Pav’s was crawling in ants. We constantly hopped off the chairs to arrange or rearrange things. Fluff up the flowers. Anything other than sitting and waiting.
‘Oh, shitting hells,’ Pav said, ‘I forget something.’
‘What?’
‘I back in minute.’
‘Don’t leave me here al
one, Pav,’ I said. ‘What if they come and you’re not …’
But it was too late; he was out of there like a blue-arsed fly. While Pav was off doing God knows what, I considered painting the shed the following summer. They sold cheap paint and brushes at the new DIY store. It could be a summer activity the four of us could partake in. Man, imagine having a television in here? What a dream that would be. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to rig up electricity.
I looked at the stuff we’d bought: the lovely flowers, the bright orange juice, the reds, maroons and yellows of the dried fruit and the allure of the chocolate. All these colours were the same as my outlook. My eyes floated to the once loose floorboard. I was glad that Pav had borrowed his dad’s hammer and nailed it down.
‘God, I thought you were never coming back, Pav,’ I said, which wasn’t true.
‘I forget this.’ From a bag Pav produced a Moleskine notebook and a pen. The pen with the four different colour choices. The Moleskine notebook and pen.
‘Is that the one given to you by The Big … ?’ I said.
‘Yes. I save it in room, but I give as a gift today,’ Pav said. He opened the Moleskine and removed – oh, not another blinking note – a pristine white handkerchief. Not one of your throwaways; this was the real deal. One hundred per cent cotton.
‘You forgot that as well?’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘I could’ve given you one, Pav.’
‘Not this one.’
‘Why? What’s so special about that one?’
‘It not mine. Look.’ He showed the hanky. The letters ML were positioned in one of the top corners.
‘ML, that’s …’ Then I remembered.
‘Mercy Lewis,’ Pav said. ‘She give me when dickhead numpties batter lights in of me. Today I return to Mercy with notebook and big thank you.’
‘Nice move, Pav. Nice move.’ I wished then that I had something to give to Erin F. All I had was myself. I really hoped that it would be good enough.
Pav took Mercy Lewis up to say hello to his mum and dad. All that was left over from the feast were a few crisps, sparkling water and some dried fruit. And me and Erin F. She dazzled.
In unity with her mum, Erin F had shaved her hair off. I didn’t want to go on about how much I missed her stunning locks. Hair comes. Hair goes. But her amazing gesture would remain in many people’s hearts forever. I couldn’t wait to run my hands through it when it did grow back though.
‘Sorry it’s taken ages for me to come see this place, Charlie,’ Erin F said.
‘Don’t worry, you’re here now.’
‘It’s cool.’
‘Really?’
There you go, Charlie. You’re now cool.
‘Yes, it would be a brilliant study area as well.’
‘Eh, hello. That’s what I keep telling Pav.’
‘Want some help clearing up?’ she said.
‘That’s OK, you just sit and relax, Erin F.’
‘Don’t talk crap, Charlie. I don’t buy into all that chivalry rubbish.’
We got on our feet at the same time, almost touching bodies. Erin F looked at me. I looked at her. I loved looking at her, not only because she was so utterly beautiful, but because she made me feel so utterly special. So utterly wanted. I’m sure nerves could be heard shattering all over my body.
What do I do now?
Who makes the move?
Am I supposed to?
I don’t know.
I, Charlie Law, haven’t a clue about such things.
Go on. Kiss her. She wants you to do it, daft arse.
I closed my eyes, drew nearer to her, put out my lips and let myself float away. And I floated and floated, and kept floating until it was as if we were a part of the same body.
You know, I’ve often wondered: would we all have been together if the bombs hadn’t come to Little Town? I mean: was it only the bombs that brought us together?
Who knows?
Who knows?
Praise for
‘So surprising and charming it would
be hard not to feel uplifted’
Observer
‘Energetic, confident and compassionate …
He is one to watch’
Scotland on Sunday
‘Beautifully observed and hilariously uncomfortable’
Guardian
‘The book is funny, fascinating and perfectly
realised … comparisons with The Curious Incident
of The Dog in the Night Time are already coming
thick and fast, and the book merits them’
Irish Independent
‘Funny, poignant, rude, life-affirming’
Bookseller
‘Brave’
Daily Mail
‘A very human story of relationships and loyalty’
Irish Examiner
‘Bittersweet’
Daily Express
Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Oxford, New York, New Delhi and Sydney
First published in Great Britain in April 2016 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP
This electronic edition published in 2016 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
www.bloomsbury.com
BLOOMSBURY is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © Brian Conaghan 2016
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All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced or
transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying
or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Hardback ISBN 978 1 4088 5574 4
Export eISBN 978 1 4088 5575 1
The Bombs That Brought Us Together Page 23