And Blue Skies From Pain (23 page)
Read And Blue Skies From Pain Online
Authors: Stina Leicht
“Think on it.” And with that, Séamus left.
“I’d rather you stayed,” Frankie said.
His hair still wet from the shower, Liam continued to pack and tried not to let the force with which he did so give away his anger. Frankie had done him a service, letting him stay—no matter the social call from the Boys.
“Do you really have somewhere to stay?” Frankie asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Of course, it does, mate. I can’t let you go out into—into—fucking hell. Why don’t you stay?”
“Because I don’t need any more fucking recruitment speeches from your man.”
Frankie looked away. “Aye, well. I told Séamus not to bother with that load of bollocks, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“You didn’t tell him so he’d hear.”
“Do you blame me, then?”
Liam sighed again.
“Wasn’t like I had a load of choice in the matter. I couldn’t leave you for the fucking Butchers. Not after everything we’ve been through, you and me. But I had to ring him up. Fuck, you know what I’d be in for if I didn’t?”
“You’ve said that before.”
It was Frankie’s turn to sigh. The worry on his face was plain to see. Liam had an urge to let him choke on it, but he couldn’t. Frankie was a brother.
“I’m not angry with you, mate,” Liam said. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
Frankie’s shoulders dropped a wee bit and the tension in his face lessened. “I—I was only trying to do right by you. Only—”
“I know.”
“I mean, back in Malone. You and me, was us against the others. Hell, it was us against fucking Jack. You remember Jack?”
Liam nodded. “Still have half of Shakespeare’s entire fucking works clogging up my skull.”
“The time he caught us cheating on the lessons—”
“Aye. And the time you set fire to his socks.”
“That was an accident.” Frankie looked away and a sly grin slid across his features.
“Oh, aye. But what were you doing with a fucking candle in the laundry hut? Weren’t you supposed to be studying?”
“Was fucking cold, so it was,” Frankie said. “Was warming my hands.”
“Sure you were. With Jack’s socks? Had you not a pair of your own?” Liam asked. “Was fucking cold, though. Made me half glad of Mary Kate’s obsession with knitting, disastrous as that was.”
“I always wondered if she thought your left arm was that much longer than your right. Or was it the Uni bastard she was doing on the side with the gorilla arm? She was too consistent for that to be a mistake.”
“Shut your gob,” Liam said. “At least I had someone willing to make the attempt. Unlike you.”
“What makes you think I didn’t?”
“Do I need to return your attention to Jack’s doomed socks?” Liam asked, unaware of the smile that had crept on his face until he felt the twinge of the morning’s betrayal. He wiped off the grin with the back of his hand and went back to his packing. “Wonder what’s become of him? Brits shot him for a rebel, I suppose?”
“Jack? Still inside, so he is. He’ll not see the light of day outside of bars, I’m thinking.” Frankie shook his head. “Looking really bad inside. Not that it was any holiday before.”
Liam nodded.
“Is that why?” Frankie asked. “Is it the chance of going back?”
Liam straightened and narrowed his eyes. The heat of his anger poured out of him.
Frankie took a step back. The acidic yellow scent of terror seeped into the air. Still, Frankie held his gaze. “Didn’t mean to call you out for a coward. I—”
My eyes. Sees the monster burning in there, so he does. Father Murray didn’t find a way to lock that down, did he?
“Stop it.” Liam forced himself to turn his rage at the wall. He combed the fingers of his right hand through his damp hair, knowing full well smoothing things down only meant they’d stand straight out all the more. “Look. I—I have to leave. People I care about have a way of dying fierce hard. I—I don’t know if it’s because of—” He stopped himself from saying the words. They sounded too mad even to him. “I—I can’t stand the thought of having to see another of my own going through… well, what Oran and Mary Kate did.”
And Father Murray. Aye?
“Broke my word yesterday. And it didn’t go well. I can’t see it happen again. You understand? You’re the last. You and my ma.”
“Stop it.” Liam forced himself to turn his rage at the wall. He combed the fingers of his right hand through his damp hair, knowing full well smoothing things down only meant they’d stand straight out all the more. “Look. I—I have to leave. People I care about have a way of dying fierce hard. I—I don’t know if it’s because of—” He stopped himself from saying the words. They sounded too mad even to him. “I—I can’t stand the thought of having to see another of my own going through… well, what Oran and Mary Kate did.”
And Father Murray. Aye?
“Broke my word yesterday. And it didn’t go well. I can’t see it happen again. You understand? You’re the last. You and my ma.”
Frankie nodded.
“Best everyone stay the fuck away. Especially you. So, don’t come looking.” Liam tied a knot into the laundry bag with a jerk, closing it. “Let Séamus do as he will. Whatever happens isn’t on your hands.” He shouldered the bag.
“Wait,” Frankie said. He ran from the room and noises of drawers opening and shutting came from the bedroom.
Liam did his best to keep a tight rein on his anger. He didn’t understand what was wrong. He’d been feeling a wee bit off since he’d let Father Murray hypnotize him, and it was only getting worse. With the exception of that brief moment chatting about the old times, Liam didn’t feel he was himself anymore. It was as if he were one or two paces back from the action, looking on as a passenger. It was how he’d felt when the monster was in control. Only this was worse. There was no one, only a blank creature whose eyes burned at the slightest provocation and who didn’t care about anyone or anything. On one hand, it was a comfort, the numbness. On the other, it terrified him. His control was slipping. He could feel it. With the creature put away, what was he to become now? Something worse? Could he face it if it was?
Frankie returned with a small cloth bag. He fished inside for its contents and pulled out some money. “It’s my wee emergency fund. This is emergency enough.”
“I can’t.”
“You can, and you will.” Frankie pressed the thick roll of bills into his hand. “I’ll not have you sleeping on the street.”
“Frankie—”
“Take the money, Liam. Christ!”
Liam closed a fist around the bills.
“That’ll hold you up for a month if you’re careful. As you’re not me, I expect it’ll last twice that.”
“Aye, well. I have my own socks for starters.”
“Oh, fuck away off!” Frankie shook his head, smiling. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “There’s a block of abandoned houses not far up the Falls. Families moved out. A wee bit too close to the Peace Line for comfort, see. You’ll be safe enough. Séamus and the others won’t go poking around there first thing when they decide to come calling. I’ll see to it.”
Liam nodded. Standing in front of the door, he knew there were a hundred things he should say. He just couldn’t think of any of them. “Take care of yourself, Frankie.”
“You too.”
“I—”
“Oh, go on. You’ve not seen the last of me, and we both know it.”
Liam nodded. Still, it was hard to go. It’d been a long time since he’d been among friends. Thinking back, everyone he cared about had let him down. Lied to him. His ma. His da. Oran. Even Mary Kate had had her secrets. Father Murray too, for that matter. And Frankie’s wee message to the Boys hadn’t ended in anyone dying, had it?
Not yet.
Taking a deep breath, Liam turned and reached for the door.
Taking a deep breath, Liam turned and reached for the door.
“Promise me something,” Frankie said.
Liam paused with his hand on the steel doorknob. “Aye?”
“Promise you won’t let them bully you into joining up again.”
“I promise.”
Chapter 12
Belfast, County Antrim, Northern Ireland
December 1977
December 1977
L
iam headed for the pay telephones located at the front of Frankie’s apartment building. Séamus and his boys would be watching, but Liam couldn’t bring himself to wait any longer. Upon reaching the alcove with its graffiti-stained white concrete walls and its stench of damp and grit, he faced the very real prospect of bad news. Guilt, homesickness and loss slammed him all at once. The 23
rd
of December wasn’t far away. The significance of the date made everything worse.
Christ, what if he’s dead?
Liam half-dropped, half-tossed the laundry bag. Landing on the grimy concrete, it made a dull, heavy thump. He retrieved it and then set it leaning against the wall. The hand with which he picked up the phone receiver shook. He swallowed once, and took a deep breath. Cursing himself for a coward, he dialed the number to St. Agnes’s parochial house. He’d memorized it years ago when Mary Kate had been alive, and he’d thought of Father Murray as the only friend he had in Belfast—not a Church assassin originally assigned to kill him. Listening to the distant tone, Liam held his breath.
What will I do if he’s gone? Where will I go? He’s probably dead. The hole in him. The blood. So much of it. So fast.
His heart thudded in his ears, and his shirt grew clammy with sweat. He’d almost reached out to disconnect the line when a male voice answered.
iam headed for the pay telephones located at the front of Frankie’s apartment building. Séamus and his boys would be watching, but Liam couldn’t bring himself to wait any longer. Upon reaching the alcove with its graffiti-stained white concrete walls and its stench of damp and grit, he faced the very real prospect of bad news. Guilt, homesickness and loss slammed him all at once. The 23
rd
of December wasn’t far away. The significance of the date made everything worse.
Christ, what if he’s dead?
Liam half-dropped, half-tossed the laundry bag. Landing on the grimy concrete, it made a dull, heavy thump. He retrieved it and then set it leaning against the wall. The hand with which he picked up the phone receiver shook. He swallowed once, and took a deep breath. Cursing himself for a coward, he dialed the number to St. Agnes’s parochial house. He’d memorized it years ago when Mary Kate had been alive, and he’d thought of Father Murray as the only friend he had in Belfast—not a Church assassin originally assigned to kill him. Listening to the distant tone, Liam held his breath.
What will I do if he’s gone? Where will I go? He’s probably dead. The hole in him. The blood. So much of it. So fast.
His heart thudded in his ears, and his shirt grew clammy with sweat. He’d almost reached out to disconnect the line when a male voice answered.
“This is Father Stephen of St. Agnes parish. May I help you?”
Liam tried to place the voice. He didn’t think he knew the man.
“Hello? Is there someone there?”
“May I—” Liam cleared his throat. “May I please speak to Father Murray?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Could you hold, please?” “Aye.” Liam closed his eyes and prayed.
Please, God, Jesus Christ, Mother Mary. Please. Don’t let him be dead.
Given the pause, he could guess the answer, and his dread grew. His sides became slick with sweat, and the shaking grew worse with each passing second. Finally, the sounds of movement came through the other line.
Please, God, Jesus Christ, Mother Mary. Please. Don’t let him be dead.
Given the pause, he could guess the answer, and his dread grew. His sides became slick with sweat, and the shaking grew worse with each passing second. Finally, the sounds of movement came through the other line.
“Hello?” The voice that reached Liam’s ear was a whisper.
His heart stopped for a second time that day. “Father?” Liam asked. “Father Murray?”
“I’m sorry. He’s in hospital. I’m Father Declan Thomas. Is there something perhaps I can help you with, my son?”
“Wait. Hospital?”
He’s alive?
He’s alive?
“He was struck by a bullet while walking along the Lisburn Road.”
Underneath the Lisburn Road, is more like it,
Liam thought. “How bad was he hurt?”
Liam thought. “How bad was he hurt?”
“Bullet made a bit of a mess. Penetrated his shoulder and broke his arm. Not so terrible. Missed anything vital. Either the sniper was a very bad shot, or Father Murray wasn’t the intended target,” Father Thomas said. “Is this… is this…” He lowered his voice even further. “Liam Kelly?”
“That depends,” Liam said.
“Then you made it out.”
What?
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“We weren’t sure, given… the situation. You might have been… someone else’s guest.”
Liam blinked. “How long will Father Murray be in hospital?”
“I’m told he’ll be on his feet again soon. Should be released in a week. The authorities believe the shot may not have been intended for him, but they aren’t entirely certain. There are men looking for the sniper. So I understand.”
Liam released the breath he was holding.
He’s alive.
He’s alive.
“And you? Are you hurt?”
“What?”
“Are you hurt?”
“Me? I’m—I’m fucking grand.”
“You should stay out of sight for a few days,” Father Thomas said. “There are… things that have to be seen to before you can return.”
Return? He thinks I’m fucking going back to that fucking rat maze ever again?
“Wait, I—”
“Wait, I—”
“He’ll meet you at the record shop on Great Victoria Street when he’s released. He said you’d know the place by a pasteboard Elvis Presley standing on the walk out front. He said it specializes in your kind of music.”
“Oh.” Hot tears burned Liam’s eyeballs. He blinked them back and swallowed.
What the fuck is the matter with me?
What the fuck is the matter with me?
He’s alive. I didn’t fucking murder him.
“Do you have someone to stay with?” Father Thomas asked. “I’m to make certain you’ll not be alone. Father Murray made me promise. He said that it was important. He didn’t say why.”
Liam thought,
I’m not a wean for fuck’s sake, Father.
I’m not a wean for fuck’s sake, Father.
“Hello?”
“I’m still here,” Liam said.
“You’re to call upon your father. Father Murray said he’ll make sure you’ve done so, and that you know he can. Don’t go and blame yourself for what happened. It was an accident. Did you get all of that?”
“I did. I understand,” Liam said.
“Good,” Father Thomas said. “One more thing. This is from me.”
“Aye?”
“Be careful.” Father Thomas cleared his throat. “We’re—they’re still cleaning up the mess, if you understand my meaning. No one knows for certain how far the problem goes. There are men searching for… the sniper. Some may be none too gentle when he’s found. Understand?”
The Church’s assassins.
Liam nodded. “Aye.”
Liam nodded. “Aye.”
“Father Murray will let you know when it’s safe to return. God be with you, son.” Father Thomas rang off.
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