Blood Tracks (12 page)

Gina sat despondently at her dressing table. A pile of school books loomed next to her like the leaning tower of Pisa and her physics past-paper lay neglected in front of her. She’d been trying to work through the same page for the last half-hour but her mind wouldn’t stop wandering. For months now her thoughts had been consumed with trying to prove that her dad hadn’t killed himself. However, over the last few weeks, she found that they’d been infiltrated by someone else.

She shook her head and screwed up her eyes.
Come on, Gina, concentrate.

She looked at the physics sheet again. The law of velocity came into focus but, within minutes, her eyes glazed over as her thoughts turned to Declan.

Gina knew that she was no expert on boys. Her limited experience had involved a disastrous encounter at an ice rink when she was fourteen. Becky had set it up, concerned that Gina seemed more interested in running than going out with boys.

Becky’s choice was a boy of few words who’d spent the “date” dragging Gina around the ice rink at thirty miles per hour. She was on the verge of throwing up when he’d then tried to stick his tongue down her throat.

Since her dad’s death, boys, like everything else, had held no interest for her; but then Declan Doyle had walked into her life.

When they were together she loved hearing him talk about his family and his Uncle Shaun’s farm in Ireland. Despite all his funny anecdotes, she could see in his eyes how much he missed them all. She loved the fact that some evenings, even after they’d been for a run, Declan would ring her just to say goodnight and they’d end up chatting for ages about everything and anything. She loved it when he sent her funny YouTube clips and music links that he thought she might like. She knew it meant that he was thinking about her, but could he picture every detail of
her
face the way she could his? Did he imagine kissing her the way she did him and, when they stood close to each other, did he feel that same aching need to touch?

She was still confused by his abrupt departure from the cafe the other day. But since then things had carried on as normal.

Gina blinked as the doorbell rang. She strained her ears, then her face became a picture of embarrassment as the lilting voice floated up the stairs.

“Hello, Mrs. Wilson.”

“Come in, Declan, Gina’s working in her room. She could probably do with a break. Gina, love, Declan’s here to see you,” her mum called up the stairs.

Declan was a little flustered. As much as he loved to see Gina, the real reason for his visit was to bump into Tom.

Upstairs, meanwhile, Gina grimaced, frantically fanning her hot face with her hands.

“Gina? I’m sending Declan up, okay,” her mum shouted.

“No, I’ll come down,” she called back, but as she stood up he was already knocking at the door.

“Hiya, Gina. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” She headed for the sash window, struggling to get it open.

“Here, I’ll give you a hand.” He was so close to her that she could see where the chocolate dust from the warehouse had settled on his long eyelashes. The sweet smell reminded her of her dad coming home from work.

He pushed up the window and cold air rushed in.

“You feeling okay?” He looked at her with concern. He put his hand on her cheek; her eyes widened.

“I’m fine. It’s just so hot in here, isn’t it?” she mumbled.

“It’s probably your brain getting overheated with all that revision,” he teased.

“Yeah, must be.”

“Is Tom here?”

“Of course he’s here,” she said disapprovingly. “He came straight from work. He’s practically moved in.”

“I might just go downstairs and see him.”

“Oh.” Gina was disappointed. “Why do you want to see him?”

“I just need a quick word. Then I’ll be all yours.”

Gina quickly looked away, pretending to rearrange her school books as her cheeks threatened to burst with heat. “Fine, go ahead. I’ll be down in a minute,” she said nonchalantly.

Declan headed down the stairs. He knew he wouldn’t have much time. He just needed to get his hands on the piece of paper he’d seen Tom slip into his jacket pocket earlier. He hoped Tom might be in one room and his jacket in another. But as he dithered over which room to try first, Gina’s mum called to him from the kitchen and beckoned him in. As he entered, Declan’s eyes fell on Tom’s jacket, draped over a chair at the kitchen table.

“Declan,” Gina’s mum began, “I wanted a quick word with you, while Gina isn’t around.”

“Okay, Mrs. Wilson.”

“Oh, you’re so polite.” She smiled. “But you don’t need to call me Mrs. Wilson, just call me Clare.”

“Okay, Clare.”

“Listen, Declan.” She leaned towards him, her eyes bright. “I just wanted you to know that I’m
so
pleased you’re around. You becoming friends with Gina has been great for her. You’ve really taken her out of herself. You know she took her dad’s death extremely hard, don’t you…? Especially the circumstances.” Clare coughed, trying to hide her own emotion.

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking uncomfortable.

“Things have been difficult this last year. I’ve been sick with worry about her. She’d become obsessed with certain ideas about her dad’s death, so to see her taking an interest in things again, to see how much she enjoys being with you, well…it makes me hopeful she’s coming out the other side.” Tears sprang into Clare’s eyes. “Oh sorry, how embarrassing.” She tried to dry them with the washing-up gloves that encased her hands.

“Don’t apologize, Mrs…I mean, Clare,” Declan stumbled. “I’m glad you think I’m helping. I really like being with Gina. She’s a great girl.”

“And you’re a great boy!” she replied, throwing her arms around him and giving him a heartfelt hug.

Declan looked mortified. “I don’t deserve that,” he mumbled.

“I know,” Clare laughed. “What young man wants to be hugged by a middle-aged woman? I tell you what, let me make you a cup of tea instead.”

“No…” Declan saw his chance. If he could just get Gina’s mum out of the room, he could search through Tom’s jacket. “You go in the living room and put your feet up and I’ll make everyone a cuppa.” He tried to guide her out but Clare was having none of it.

“Declan, this is my house and you’ll do as you’re told,” she said playfully. “Danny and Tom are in the living room. Go in and see them.”

Declan walked past the jacket, eyeing it up longingly.

He stood in the open doorway of the living room watching Danny and Tom standing at the fish tank. Danny was in full flow about his restocked tank, oblivious to the fact that Tom was sipping his whisky with his eyes cast down to the floor.

“Uncle Tom, you haven’t really looked at my tank since I got all the new stuff. Can you see the three clownfish? They love swimming in and out of the pirate ship. And what do you think of the new coral?” Danny was saying excitedly. “I think the colours look amazing, especially against all the blue stones.” He pointed to the floor of the tank. “It looks cool, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, great,” Tom muttered, without looking.

“Uncle Tom…” Danny turned to face him. “Could I come and help at the allotment at the weekend?”

“Not yet, Danny. I’m still doing all the heavy work.”

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t mind the digging and stuff. I’m good at it. I’m stronger than I look,” he said, flexing his puny arms, hoping to raise a smile from Tom. But the solemn-faced Tom didn’t speak. He seemed to be looking right through Danny.

“Go on!” Danny tugged at Tom’s shirtsleeve. “I could bring a pack of cards. I’ll even make us some sandwiches.”

“Haven’t I already told you? I’ll let you know when you can help,” Tom snapped.

Danny’s face dropped. He turned quickly back to the fish tank, trying to hide his embarrassment and hurt.

Declan felt the boy’s upset and swiftly announced his presence with an overly cheery “Hello!”

Danny and Tom looked round, surprised to see him standing there.

“How you doing, Danny?” Declan asked warmly, patting the boy on the back. “How’s that footy team of yours getting on?”

Danny looked worried. “I’m in goal tomorrow. First time! Only because Max Reece is having his tonsils out. I don’t even want to be in goal. I’m best on the wing but Big Paddy, our coach, he says I won’t be missed and I’m better off in goal because I’ve got big hands.”

Declan tried his best not to laugh.

“I’m going to be rubbish and we’re playing the Thunderbolts and they’re
well
dirty. One of their players got banned last season for punching the ref. They’ll probably kick my teeth in when I go down for the ball.”

“Well we can’t have that. Your teeth are your only good feature,” Declan said.

“Get lost!” Danny shoved him, chuckling.

“What time is kick-off?”

“Six-thirty at Ryland Park.”

“Okay, well how about I call round for you after work, about five-thirty. We could go to the park and I’ll shoot a few penalties at you, give you a few tips?”

“Yeah, all right,” Danny chirped. “That’ll be good, thanks. Hey, Uncle Tom, do you fancy a training session in the park tomorrow?”

“What? No. I’m too busy,” Tom answered gruffly.

The three of them stood in an awkward silence, which was only broken when Gina breezed in. She said “Hi” as she walked over to the display shelf and cupped her hands around the mended grey urn.

Tom glared at her. “For God’s sake, Gina, do you have to do that?”

“What? What have I done?”

“What have you done?” Tom said incredulously. “It’s that weird thing you do with the urn every bloody time you come into this room.”

Gina’s stomach turned over.

“I…I…it’s my dad,” she spluttered.

“It’s not your dad! It’s just a load of ashes and most of
them
will be from the burned-up coffin.” His voice was rising. “Isn’t it about time that urn was moved somewhere so we all don’t have to keep looking at it? We know Martin’s dead. We don’t need it there to constantly remind us.”

Gina stood in stunned silence.

“That’s a bit out of order, isn’t it?” Declan said, coming to her defence.

“Shut up. This doesn’t concern you,” Tom barked.

Gina’s mum rushed in from the kitchen.

“Tom, what’s going on?” Clare asked sharply.

Gina found her voice. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do with my dad’s ashes.” She squared up to him, anger in her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here anyway? This isn’t your house. We aren’t your family. Why don’t you just get lost!”

“Look, let’s all calm down,” her mum said gently. “I’ve made tea. We’ll go in the kitchen and sit down.”

Tom shot a withering look at Clare. “Is that your solution; a cup of tea? You’ve got to tackle this, Clare. You’ve indulged this behaviour and it’s not helping her. She needs to snap out of it. Can’t you see that? If I’d been here, I would have sorted Gina out long ago.”

“But you weren’t, were you?” Clare snapped back. “You went off travelling after you said you’d be here for us.”

“I’m sorry, Clare. But I’m here now and I’m going to help.”

Gina felt Tom’s hands come down firmly on her shoulders. “We all miss your dad but he’s dead and nothing is going to bring him back. He killed himself, Gina. I know it’s painful but your refusal to accept that hasn’t just been damaging you; it’s been torturing your mother and distressing Danny. It’s selfish, Gina. You’ve been making it so much harder for everyone. It’s time to move on.”

Gina met Tom’s steely gaze.

“You know that my dad
didn’t
kill himself,” she said accusingly.

“What are you on about?” Tom retorted.

Gina pushed his hands off her. “You know things. You did things. The phone call, saying he was depressed, that text you got after our house was broken into.”

Tom bubbled with fury. “I’ve had enough of your insane talk. This has got to stop. You’re ridiculous!” he roared.

Danny gasped in shock at Tom’s outburst. Declan reached out to Gina but she turned and ran out of the room. Her mother went to follow her.

“Leave her, Clare,” Tom shouted. “Let her mull over things. It’s for the best.”

“But she was getting better…making progress. There was no need for that,” Clare fumed.

“There was every need. Just wait, you’ll see I’ve done the right thing,” Tom said.

“Mum, should I go and see her?” Danny asked, eyeing Tom nervously.

“No thanks, Danny. Why don’t you go to your room for a minute? Tom’s just going, aren’t you, Tom?” she ordered.

Declan panicked and stepped out in front of him. He had to find out what was on that piece of paper. “Did you bring a coat, Tom? I’ll get it for you.”

“I’m capable of getting my own jacket, thanks,” Tom growled.

Clare walked into the hallway with Tom following her, protesting, “I’m not being chased away, Clare. We need to discuss this now.”

“Can I just use your loo?” Declan said to no one in particular as he rushed past them.

Declan ran up the stairs and into Gina’s bedroom without stopping to knock.

“Gina!” he hissed. She was banging a fist on the wall in an effort to stop herself crying.

Gina raised her head, mortified as she realized he was standing there. “What are you doing in here?” She turned her face away from him. “Get out, Declan! I don’t want to see anyone. I just want to be left alone.”