Past Darkness (5 page)

N
aomi entered the office, giving Karl
the look
.

Shit. Not the look
, thought Karl.
Please. Anything but that.

It was Wednesday afternoon. Earlier in the morning, both Karl and Naomi had agreed to shorten the day, and hit the town for dinner and a couple of drinks. Well, possibly more than just a couple. The morning had been quite productive, and a nice advance for an upcoming job had been negotiated successfully.

‘Don’t give me that look, Naomi. I mean it. I’m not in the mood for it.’

‘His name is Tommy Naughton. Looks desperate.’

‘As desperate as me?’ Karl said, putting on his desperate face.

‘Worse.’

‘Does Desperate Tommy look like he can pay handsomely for my services, with cold cash?’

Naomi shook her head. ‘I would say probably not.’

‘Can he at least pay uglier, via monthly instalments?’

‘He doesn’t appear to have a lot of money.’

‘For god’s sake, Naomi, this isn’t a bloody charity! You should have hit him with an excuse.’

‘I talked to Tommy for a couple of minutes. He’s terribly upset.’

‘
I’m
terribly upset, also, that you’re already calling him by his first name. What did I warn you about falling for the Stockholm syndrome?’

‘His daughter and her young family were killed in that terrible fire a couple of days ago, and they’re being blamed for causing it themselves. Tommy doesn’t believe it. He thinks no-one cares, because they came from a working-class area.’

‘You know we’re up to our necks in bills. I can’t keep taking on charity cases, no matter how tragic. Otherwise we’ll be the ones looking charity.’

Naomi stared at Karl, not saying a word.

‘Don’t do that with your eyes, Naomi. Stop it. It’s not going to work, trying to make me feel bad.’

‘You’re not bad. You’re good and decent. And kind. Otherwise I wouldn’t be asking, and Tommy wouldn’t be sitting out there hoping.’

‘You do this every single bloody time to me, when I get a few quid ahead. I already told you, most of the money from the house has to go to Dad’s health coverage.’

‘Does that mean I can send Tommy in, my love?’

Karl sighed heavily. ‘Okay, but here’s the deal: He gets five minutes. Not a second more. After that, you come flying in on your broomstick and say I have an emergency, and need to leave immediately. Agreed?’

‘I don’t like lying. You know that.’

‘And I don’t like working for nothing.
You
know that. Anyway, that’s the deal. Take it or leave it?’

Naomi waited a few seconds before answering. ‘Okay…’

‘That okay didn’t sound too okay to me.’

‘
Okay
,’ Naomi said, turning her back on Karl and heading towards reception.

Tommy Naughton was ushered in the door. In his fifties and of slight build, he was dressed in a withered shirt and tie, and a dark-grey suit that had seen better days. His shoes, however, were gleaming like a tongue of oil in sunlight.

Karl immediately thought of the old Cherry Blossom legend his father always quoted to him as a kid:
A shine on your shoe says a lot about you.

‘Mister Kane?’

‘That’s me. And you are Mister Naughton.’ Karl offered a handshake.

Tommy nodded, and shook Karl’s hand. The shake was firm. Karl could feel the toughened calluses of a lifelong bricklayer or steel erector: a struggler in life’s perpetual grinding of soul and body.

‘Grab yourself a seat, Mister Naughton.’

‘Thank you for seeing me, Mister Kane,’ Tommy said, sitting down. ‘I know how busy you are, but I’m at my wits’ end. My daughter Pauline, son-in-law Charlie Reilly and two granddaughters, Dorothy and Cindy, died in a house fire, last week gone. Now their names are being dragged through the mud into the bargain.’

‘My condolences, Mister Naughton. A horrible tragedy. I heard some parts on the news. From what I gathered, there was a large explosion?’

Tommy looked uncomfortable. ‘The entire house practically disintegrated. They couldn’t even find all the bodies, it was that devastating. Charlie…did a bit of wheeling-and-dealing, selling propane bottled gas at a knockdown price from his back yard. The place was packed with them.’

‘I see…’

‘I…I’m not trying to justify it. It was a catastrophe waiting to happen, and I told him that hundreds of times, but he did whatever he could to feed his family. Selling black-market gas made a few extra quid to keep his family afloat.’

And probably ended up killing them
, Karl wanted to say, but didn’t.

‘What exactly is it you’re hoping I can do?’

‘The peelers are trying to make it out that Charlie or Pauline fell asleep smoking, while gas was leaking in the house. They’re blaming them for everything.’

‘You think differently, of course?’

‘They never smoked in their lives.’

‘Oh…I see.’ Karl pondered for a moment before continuing. ‘Didn’t I read something about a party going on, well into the night? Could it have been one of the guests smoking, someone drunk, messing about? You know yourself how a party can get out of hand, once people start drinking.’

‘The party was a little get-together to celebrate Pauline’s thirty-fifth birthday. I know some of the ones at the party, and they’re smokers and a bit wild, but they’d all gone home, hours before the fire. There was no-one in the house except Pauline, Charlie and the kids, at the time of the explosion.’

‘So why do the police say they suspect one of the parents had been smoking?’

‘You’d have to ask them that,’ Tommy responded, his voice tightening with anger.

‘Without meaning to sound flippant, couldn’t you have asked them?’

‘I live in the New Lodge, Mister Kane. In case you’re not familiar, the New Lodge is a tough nationalist area. People there don’t talk to the peelers without ending up with a six-pack.’

Karl looked confused. ‘A six-pack?’

‘Shot in both knees, elbows and ankles.’

Karl made a pained face. ‘That’s rough punishment for just talking to cops.’

‘Anyway, why would the peelers listen to someone like me
contradicting them? Now, someone like
you
, with a reputation? That’s different. I’ve read all about you.’

‘You have?’ Karl’s face brightened.

‘You don’t take crap from anyone.’

Karl looked in the direction of Naomi, sitting behind her desk in the reception. ‘That’s debatable.’

From his suit’s inside pocket, Tommy removed a brown envelope. ‘I know you’re the best and don’t come cheap. There’s three hundred quid in there. That’s a lot of money to me, Mister Kane, but it’ll be well spent if you take the case on.’

‘Three hundred…?’ Karl almost smiled. ‘In all honesty, three hundred wouldn’t get me very far. Barely cover my expenses for a day.’

‘I can get more, if you’re willing to give me some time to get it. I know a couple of loan sharks who’ll help me.’

‘Sharks don’t help, they devour.’ Karl shook his head. ‘It’s not just the money. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have the time needed to dedicate myself to such a serious and complex matter. What I can do is give you the number of a good solicitor I know. She’ll be able to–’

Just then, Naomi rushed through the door, startling both Karl and Tommy. ‘Tell Karl where the money came from, Tommy.’

‘What? Oh. Well…I’ve been saving up for a holiday, me and Theresa – that’s my wife. She’s been very sickly. We haven’t
had a good holiday in ages, so I’ve been saving to take her somewhere nice. Derrybeg in Donegal, hopefully.’

‘Derrybeg?’ Karl said, voice filling with suspicion. ‘What a strange coincidence, eh, Naomi?’

‘And no better place,’ said Derrybeg woman, Naomi, smiling proudly. ‘The greatest wee town in the greatest county in Ireland, Donegal.’

Karl glared at Naomi. Closed his angry eyes. When he reopened them, they were filled with resigned defeat.

‘Okay, here’s the score, Mister Naughton. I’ll look into what you’ve told me, but I can’t promise anything more than that. Understood?’

For the first time since entering the premises, Tommy Naughton smiled with relief, as if a ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He stood. Put out his hand.

‘That’s good enough for me, Mister Kane.’

Karl shook the hand. ‘Just remember: no promises.’

‘Thank you, Mister Kane. Thank you.’

‘Leave your contact details with Naomi. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’

Tommy turned to leave.

‘Take this with you,’ Karl said, holding out the envelope. ‘We can come to some sort of financial arrangement later. Take your wife on that holiday.’

Tommy looked at the envelope, then at Karl. ‘Thank you, Mister Kane.’

‘There’s one more thing I need you to do for me, Tommy.’

‘You just name it, Mister Kane, and it’s done.’

‘Can you stop calling me Mister Kane? It makes me feel… old. Karl will suffice. And for good measures, I’ll stop calling you Mister Naughton. Agreed, Tommy?’

‘You’ve got it, Karl,’ Tommy said, leaving the room escorted by a smiling Naomi.

Karl waited until Naomi returned.

‘What happened to our deal? Weren’t you meant to rush in on your broomstick and say I had an emergency?’

‘But I did rush in, and it
was
an emergency.’ Naomi smiled wickedly. Leaned over the desk, and kissed the love of her life hard on the mouth.

‘You know this is going to end up costing me money? It always does.’

‘Do you want to take my panties down and spank me for being naughty and disobeying you?’

‘I can hardly take
my
panties down, I’m so weak with hunger at the moment. We’ll keep that for tonight, when I’ve more energy to
debrief
you. Now, let’s get the hell out of here, before someone else shows up thinking this is a charity shop. I’m so hungry, I’d eat the back door buttered. Oh, just one other thing.’

‘Yes, my dearest?’

‘Antrim is the greatest county in Ireland.’

‘H
ave you finished throwing up all over me?’ the girl said, watching Dorothy removing vomit from her mouth with the sleeve of her pyjamas.

Dorothy spat out the remaining lumps of sourness in her mouth, before nodding. ‘I…I’m sorry…didn’t mean to vomit on you.’

‘You’re lucky I didn’t give you a good punch in the gob. I had to go change from my last rags into these even shittier ones.’

‘I’m really sorry–’

‘Enough of that “sorry” shit. I heard you the first time. There’s a box of old clothes in there, all ripped but they’ll help keep you warm. They belonged to some old woman. Look at this stupid old sweater I’m wearing, with these stupid teapot designs on it.’

Dorothy stripped off her vomit-stained pyjama top, and found a sweater to pull over her head. It was much too big, and
the wool was scratchy and uncomfortable. A terrible stench of damp and mould seemed to be imbedded in the material.

‘Thank…thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me. Thank the dead old bag who owned it. Sometimes at night in the dark, I think I can smell her in here.’

Dorothy stood very still. Shadows were moving in the darkness. She wanted to scream.

‘One night, it was so cold in here,’ continued the girl, ‘I had to stick on a pair of her knickers to try and keep warm. After a minute of being inside them, I felt something scratching my hole.’

‘Don’t! Please…don’t talk like that. It scares me.’

‘Scares you? How d’you think I felt, when I found a whole family of spiders living in her drawers?’

Dorothy started scratching, as if the spider family had moved from one garment to the next. She was certain there was something moving about in the sweater.

‘Can I sit down, please, on your mattress?’

‘Park your arse, if you want.’

Dorothy sat on the edge of the mattress.

‘Can…can I ask your name?’

The girl thought for a minute before answering. ‘People call me all sorts of names. Bitch, scum, whore….’

Dorothy’s face flushed. She quickly looked away.

‘What’s wrong?’ The girl was smiling her scary, leery grin.
‘Trying to tell me you never heard those words before? What are you, a wee goody-goody girl?’

‘No….’

‘Okay, Miss Good-Goody, you can call me Tara.’

Dorothy looked about the bare room, trying to think of something that wouldn’t incur this strange and frightening girl’s wrath or ridicule.

‘How…how long’ve you been here, Tara?’

‘Long? Very…very long. It stays dark most of the time, because the windows are boarded up, so it’s hard to tell night or day. Scarman took me when I was buying cigs in the wee shop at the corner of–’

‘You smoke?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘No.’

‘You really are a wee goody-goody. I’m gasping for a cig, right now.’

‘My mum and dad would kill me if they thought I smoked.’

‘I don’t have a ma or da, so I don’t give a shit. I do as I please. Always have.’

‘You don’t have a mum or a dad?’ Dorothy was shocked.

‘Have you socks in your ears or something? I hate repeating myself.’

‘I’ve never met anyone without a mum or dad. It must be terrible.’

‘Why?’

Dorothy shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. Just seems so sad. I would hate not to have my mum and dad.’

‘From what I was told, my ma and da weren’t up to much anyway. Give me away when I was three months old, the bastards. Anyway, enough sob stories. Do you want to hear about Scarman, or not?’

Dorothy reluctantly nodded. In truth, monsters were the last things she wanted to hear about in this house of horror.

‘When I came out of the wee shop, Scarman was standing beside a van. He had a photo of a wee girl. He tried showing me it, saying it was his daughter, she was lost, and had I seen her.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I’m nobody’s fool. I ignored the bastard. He made a grab for me, but I kicked him in the balls, hard.’

‘You
kicked
him? Are you joking?’

‘He’s not the first scumbag I’ve kicked in the balls. It was sweet, watching his ugly, scarred face fill with pain.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘I clawed his revolting gob. Took his skin clean off. Broke a couple of fingernails, but it was worth it. I don’t remember much more than that. I think he poured something over my face to knock me out, some sort of drug, probably.’

Dorothy’s voice suddenly filled with despair. ‘He’s gonna do dirty things to us and kill us, isn’t he, just like on TV?’

She started sobbing, her shoulders shaking violently like a
pneumatic drill. Tara’s hand reached out to Dorothy’s shoulder, but stopped before touching it, as if fearful of contamination.

‘Listen to me, and listen good. You do anything you need to do to survive in here.
Anything
. Got that?’

Dorothy didn’t answer. She continued sobbing, quieter now.

‘Don’t you want to see your ma and da again, and your wee sister?’

Dorothy sniffed. ‘Yes…’

‘You will, but not if you keep crying. Sometimes you have to die to stay alive.’

‘But…I don’t want to die.’

‘I mean die inside. Do things that are horrible.’

‘I don’t want to do horrible things.’

‘Then you will die.
Really
die, and Scarman will win. Do you want him to win?’

‘No…’

Tara brought her face right up against Dorothy’s. ‘Then remember this: you do anything you need to do to survive.
Anything
. Right?’

Dorothy was hit by the stench of Tara’s bad breath, and lack of washing. It was overwhelming, but despite wanting to puke, she knew better than to let it show on her face.

‘O…kay…I…I’ll try…’

‘You better do more than try.’

Dorothy started sniffing the air, screwing her face up. ‘What’s that terrible smell? It’s disgusting, like rotten cabbage.’

Tara pointed nonchalantly towards the far corner, where a rusted metal bucket lurked.

‘You have to use it if you need to take a shit or a pee. The chain on your leg stretches to the far corner, so you can get to it easily enough. Sometimes, Scarman brings old newspapers to wipe your arse with. It’s rough, but better than nothing.’

Dorothy pinched her nose. ‘I…I couldn’t use that thing. It’s horrible.’

‘Then you’ll shit yourself, won’t you? Do, and you’ll not be on this mattress for long. I can tell you that for nothing.’

‘But…you’ll be watching me go to the toilet.’

‘Why would I want to watch you taking a shit? Think I’m sick?

‘No, of course not. I….’

‘Just be careful Scarman isn’t watching, though. He has a wee peep-hole in the door.’ Tara grinned.

‘Don’t say that. I’ll just hold it in.’

‘Then you’ll burst open, won’t you? That should be fun.’

‘That’s not funny…’

‘Look, if it helps, just pretend you’re out camping in the woods, and this room is your tent. That’s what I do. Scarman comes every other day and cleans the pot out. He also brings scraps of food with him when–’

‘Oh, my stomach. I’m gonna be sick.’ Dorothy began to retch violently.

‘Not on this mattress, you’re not!’ Tara kicked Dorothy roughly off the mattress with her foot. ‘Use the bucket if you want to puke.’

Dorothy went rush-crawling to the bucket, as if her very life depended upon it. She retched like hell, before puking her stomach out. After a few minutes, she returned to the mattress, shaking terribly, tears rolling down her face.

‘I…I feel horrible…’

‘Get used to it.’

‘Can’t…can’t you stop tormenting me, just for a second?’

Tara forced a laugh. Stared directly into Dorothy’s face.

‘You should be thanking me. You said you couldn’t use the bucket, but you did. Lesson learned. There’ll be other things you don’t want to do in here, terrible things, but you better learn to do them if you want to survive.’

‘You…you’re a…horrible person.’

‘I’m not here to babysit a baby. I’m here to survive. With or without you, I intend to escape, and I won’t let you get in the way with all your moaning.’

‘Escape?’ Dorothy’s face lit up. ‘Will…will you take me with you, Tara? Please. I’ll do anything you ask, if only–’

‘So, you
will
do anything, after all, when it suits? See how easy it can be, once you set your mind to it?’

‘You…you
will
take me with you, won’t you?’

Tara began to smile, like a fox with a chicken clamped firmly in its jaws. ‘Of course. I would never dream of leaving you behind…’