Boy Next Door (Parkside Avenue Book #2) (16 page)

“Of course, Barbie’s a guy. Are
you not listening? Chris Barber, he’s called. Anyway, Barbie thinks Molly is
getting too cosy with Rick. That’s your brother, right?”

Where the hell was she going with
this? “Um, yeah.”

“Well Lisa thinks Molly just felt
sorry for Rick when he got a pasting on account of your stirring up shit with
the Schofield brothers.”

“Who are they?”

“Don’t play the innocent.
Everyone knows the Schofield brothers, even me.”

“I’ve got to say you have me at a
disadvantage.”

“I can’t see how. You were the
one fleecing them at poker.” She paused with her head cocked to one side and
her lips pursed, as I mentally pictured the men around the card table and tried
to deduce which of them could be related. “Two guys, loads of tattoos, one of
them a big snake. Remember now?” Her eyebrows rose and stayed there.

“Ah.”

“Johnny? Is this true?” Cora
asked.

“It was no big deal. Two small
games for some extra cash. I knew when to get out. Honestly, I haven’t been back
since.” I cupped Cora’s shoulders in my hands. “Baby, this has nothing to do
with us. Why are you listening to idle gossip?”

Little crinkles marred the bridge
of Cora’s nose. “I saw a man of that description, when we went to your club.”

Nessie gasped. “You took my
mother to the Pocket Scratcher?”

“So what?”

“Everyone knows what goes on in
that dive. I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is that you scored
her a hit and you both got high together.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” I regretted
the words as soon as I spoke them. Nessie was determined to paint me as the
villain, and I was playing right into her hands. Cora pulled away from me and stood
staring at her fingers stroking over the counter top. “Cora, look at me.”

Her fingers changed rhythm and
began tapping a new pattern into the work surface. “Go home, Johnny.”

Where did that come from? “I’m
sorry?”

“I need to think.”

“What about?”

“Us. Gambling is one thing, but
violence and drugs … I had no idea you were associated with any of that.”

“I’m not.”

“Go. Please.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Vanessa’s right. We were naïve
to think this would work. I can’t be with another man hiding secrets.”

“I don’t have secrets. Sure I’ve
got into a few fights. Who hasn’t? And I admit I’ve tried weed, once, about
five years ago, but I’m nothing like Nessie is trying to make me out to be. Ask
me anything. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Nessie stepped so close to me I
could feel her anger radiating from her body. “Everything she wants to hear,
you mean.”

“I have never lied to your
mother. I made a promise to her that I never would, and I’ve kept that promise.
Cora …”

“She asked you to go. What are
you still doing here?” Nessie smiled smugly.

“Get out of my face, Nessie.
You’ve done enough damage. Cora, please …”

Cora’s head was shaking. “Don’t
you see? You lied to me by omission.”

“There’s a bunch of stuff you
don’t know about me yet. Neither of us came with a freaking manual.”

“If this conversation is a sample
page, I don’t want to read anymore. We were basing a relationship on physical
feelings, chasing a dream. It’s a fantasy to think otherwise.”

“It isn’t a dream; it’s real. I
felt it; you felt it. No one knows everything about each other when they first
start out, but we’ll learn.”

“No. I don’t think I want to. Everything’s
against us, there’s so much animosity, and now this. I can’t do it.”

“I know it’s hard, but I promise
I’m not the bad guy in this, and everyone will come to accept us, eventually. You
have to keep fighting, Cora. Don’t give up on me, please.”

“My head is all jumbled up. I
need to be alone, Johnny.”

I moved to stand behind her and
spoke into her hair. “You don’t mean that.”

Her body stiffened. “Please
Johnny.”

It was as if a screen had been
drawn between us, locking me out, and keeping me out until she said the word. I
breathed in the unmistakable aroma of the scent I’d become so used to being
around, wondering if it would be the last time I ever smelt it. Cora was angry,
confused. She didn’t know what she was saying. Sure, she wanted me gone, now,
but tomorrow she would realise how stupid she was being. “Fine,” I said. “If it’s
what you want, I’ll leave, as long as you understand it’s not what I want, and
I’ll be back. Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll be here. I haven’t
given up on us, even if you have.”

Nessie grabbed my arm and spun me
towards the door. “I guess that’s you done then. You’ll see this is the right
thing to do.” She opened the door and pushed me through it. “Bye now.”

I stared at the combination of frosted
glass and UPVC, unable to digest what had just taken place. I’d gone up against
a slip of a girl, and lost. I should have known better than to try to come
between mother and daughter, but I refused to believe I’d lost Cora. It wasn’t
possible. Relationships sucked.

Chapter Twenty-Four

With an anvil tied to my heart, I
gathered up my tools, shoved them into my holdall, and took a farewell look at
the pergola. I hated to leave a job unfinished; this one more than any. I’d
poured my heart and soul into the design and construction, needing to get it absolutely
right for the woman I loved—every curve, every nail placed with precision, to
ensure the finished result would be as perfect as she was.

“I haven’t finished with you,” I
said to the structure, before hitching my bag onto my shoulder and leaving it
behind.

At home, the house was quiet, too
quiet.

“Pappa. Paps!” The only answer I
received was a bark from Smokey. At least someone was still speaking to me. The
barking continued, but Smokey didn’t appear. It was coming from upstairs. I
guessed the faithful hound was accompanying Pappa on his afternoon nap, and if
he didn’t zip it soon, he’d wake Pappa up, and then somehow it would become my
fault that Paps was cranky for the rest of the day.

I dumped my bag on the hallway
floor, kicked off my shoes, and climbed the stairs. “Smokey, quiet, boy. Shh.
Give the old man some peace.”

Smokey’s head turned as I pushed
open the door.

“Come on, boy. Out of there,” I shouted
in a husky whisper, cocking my head for him to follow me.

He whimpered and laid his chin on
the edge of the bed, with his big, black eyes focused on Pappa’s face.

“I said, come on.” I pursed my
lips and tried to squeeze a silent whistle from them, but Smokey was playing at
being deaf. Sighing, I walked over and tugged on his collar, but it was as if
he were stuck to the floor. Damn, he was being a stubborn bastard. “All right
then, stay, but quit with the noise,” I said through gritted teeth.

I’d had a shitty afternoon, and I
didn’t have any fight left in me to waste on stupid doggy games. All I wanted
to do was kick back a bucket load of beers and pass out.

As soon as I tried to leave, the
barking started up again.

I shot back to Smokey’s side.
“What the fuck is up with you, today?” His behaviour was driving me nuts.

Smokey stood and nudged Pappa’s
hand.

“What is it, boy?”

I studied Pappa, his pale face
looking even more washed-out against the white of the sheets. His mouth hung
open but no snoring could be heard. Smokey licked Pappa’s hand and looked at
me.

A sudden coldness, shivered
through me, and my body couldn’t move. My eyes scanned from Pappa’s face to his
chest, praying I’d see even the slightest of rise and falls. As the seconds
ticked by, I stared, not breathing, but saw nothing.

No. Please, God, no. Not this.
Not now. Not today. I wasn’t ready. Pappa wasn’t ready. He had to be fine. When
I’d left him this morning, we’d discussed my room. He’d been happy to allow me
to redecorate, even offered to help. He couldn’t be …

Smokey let out a small whine and
nudged Pappa’s hand again, stirring me from my stupor. I reached for Pappa’s
wrist, hoping to find a beat under his tissue paper skin, but it was cold and
still.

My hand shot to my forehead.
Think, Johnny, think. I couldn’t think. An incessant pounding had invaded my
skull and wiped out any remaining brainpower. Then without consciously doing
so, I pulled my phone from my back pocket and dialled the emergency services.

“I think my grandfather is dead.”

***

In a matter of minutes, someone
had squeezed out every last bit of joy from my heart, taken the rock that
remained, and smashed it with a sledgehammer. I backed against the wall, slid
down it, and slumped on the floor, cradling my head in my hands. Time slowed
and became meaningless. Nothing mattered anymore.

I barely registered the arrival
of the doctor. His words washed over me, and I watched trance-like as my
grandfather’s body was taken from his beloved home.

Kendrick arrived as the vehicle
pulled away. His eyes followed it down the road. “What’s going on? Who was
that? What were they doing here?”

“Paps.”

“Paps? What do you mean, Paps?
Where is he?”

I nodded at the vehicle as it
turned the corner.

“He was in there? Is he okay?”

I shook my head silently and
turned to re-enter the house.

“What’s going on?” Kendrick
asked, following me. “Speak to me, man.” He grabbed my arm, forcing me to face
him.

I pushed the words from my mouth
and told him everything.

He stilled. “Shit.” Collapsing
onto the sofa, he looked at me. “That sucks. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will we have to move?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where will we go?”

“I don’t know. Just quit the
questions, will you?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

I slept through most of the next
day, and the next. I didn’t see any point in getting up, until a musty odour
threatened to wilt the flowers on the wallpaper. Finally surfacing, I bunged my
sheets in the washing machine and ate my first meal, but I still wasn’t ready
to face the world. All I wanted was to reach out and seek comfort in Cora’s
arms.

My brain got stuck on standby,
and days turned to a week without my noticing. Retreating into myself and
sticking to routine somehow kept me numb, and meant I didn’t have to think
anymore. Not once leaving the house, I left the phone unanswered and only
opened my mouth to bark at Kendrick when he attempted conversation. Even Smokey
gave up trying to attract my attention and barely acknowledged my presence when
I walked into the room. I knew I should take him for his walks—his stomach grew
rounder by the day on a diet of stale dog biscuits and leftover takeout—but the
front door felt like the hatch of a submerged submarine I daren’t open for fear
of the world crashing through and drowning any remaining life left in me. Most
of my time was spent sitting in Pappa’s chair, staring at the floor. The house
wasn’t the same without the sound of coughing reverberating around the walls,
or the scent of tobacco hanging in the air.

How quickly my life had turned to
shit. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. Nothing that had occurred,
since I’d returned from uni, had been part of my plan for the future. A small
part of my brain knew I had to get back on track, but it wasn’t strong enough
to kick-start the rest of it into action. It was as if I were driving along a
country road with no street lighting and broken headlights, and I couldn’t see
a way out of the darkness.

With the arrival of a new week,
the numbness faded and my brain slowly reengaged. I realised Pappa’s body
wouldn’t be held indefinitely, and I had to start making plans, whether I was
ready to or not. But where to begin?

I should have been used to
funerals, but my parents had both been cremated, and their spirits now drifted
over their favourite picnic spot by the river, where I’d scattered their ashes.
I had no idea what Pappa’s wishes were. Back when Gran was alive, they’d been
churchgoers, but I was clueless as to whether Pappa wanted to be buried in St
Mark’s, or not. Besides, Gran was on the mantelpiece.

My eyes drifted from the ornate urn
to the bureau, beside Pappa’s chair, and a tear pooled as I remembered him
sitting in front of it, glasses balanced on the end of his nose, pen in hand. He
kept everything of importance behind that wooden slope. I reached over and pulled
down the lid. A piece of paper drifted from within and landed at my feet; it
was an electric bill. Had it been paid? Pappa had never entered the
twenty-first century and bought a computer, but had he, at least, joined the
twentieth to set up direct debits? What about his bank account? There was so
much to think about and organise, it made my head spin. I riffled through more
piles of paperwork and dragged a couple of folders from the back of the bureau
to make a start.

An hour later, I had a pile of payment
demands, bank statements, an address book, birth and marriage certificates, and
a business card with the name of a solicitor embossed across the middle. Underneath
were the words, Divorce, Employment, and Probate Specialist. It was my only
lead, so I made a call, and struck lucky.

The following day, Kendrick and I
sat nervously in the solicitor’s office as he read through Pappa’s will. His
property was to be split equally between Kendrick and myself. My surprise was
short-lived. Unless Pappa had left everything to the dog’s home, there really
wasn’t anyone else in the picture. And although I was relieved we wouldn’t have
to up sticks, I would rather have had Paps back than any amount of inheritance.
The solicitor talked us through the normal procedure, and the things I should
prioritise, and by the time we left, my head was much straighter, despite my
heart being in pieces.