Fireproof (20 page)

"Very funny." Cathy rolled her eyes. "Seriously though, I'd like to help them. They put a lot into that place."

"Well, if I'm struck by inspiration I'll let you know."

"Thanks. What are you up to later?"

"Me and Cadbury are going on a recruitment drive. You want to come with us?"

"Thanks, but I need to get an early night. I'll go with you tomorrow."

"That's cool. Are you just going to kick back and relax?"

"Aha. A glass of wine, a bath and an early night will recharge me for the rest of the week. I know things are going to get crazy soon, so I'll relax while I can. Maybe you should too?"

"Can't. I want to show the big man downstairs that I'm putting the effort in to building this religion of his. If I get eaten by Cerberus I might be able to get back if I can show him that everything else is going well."

"We'll beat Cerberus."

"Yeah, we probably will, but I want to cover all the bases."

"Okay, babe."

Cathy drank some tea and scooped a biscuit from the plate on the table. Mike stood up and lifted his jacket from the back of his chair. On his way out of the kitchen he stopped to kiss her lightly on the cheek. She loved the feel of his lips on her skin; warm, moist and full.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Cathy. Have a good one."

"See you tomorrow."

Cathy poured herself a glass of Chardonnay and ran a bath. Her muscles softened as she sank to her shoulders in the water. Her dark-brown hair was tied up to keep it out of the water and the wine glass balanced on the edge of the bath. She sipped the chilled wine at intervals and each sip relaxed her mind as her body melted under the suds. She closed her eyes and thought about Mike. She couldn't lose him. She would have to do something. She was an intelligent woman, and as soon as she woke up from her semi-conscious state, she would come up with a plan to ensure that they could be together forever. For now she would have to see what this little green guy in her dream wanted.

An ugly little creature with fishlike teeth and legs that didn't seem to fit its body sat on a beer tin on Cathy's kitchen table. The thing wore a T-shirt with the words "the imp" printed on it. She was naked but not cold. She had a vague awareness that she was dreaming but was intrigued by the vividness of the experience. The imp faced her and its expression turned her stomach. It leered like a seventy-five-year-old watching a twenty-year-old nurse adjust his catheter. Cathy lifted her black leather coat from the back of the kitchen chair closest to her and spoiled the imp's view.

"Have a heart. I was really enjoying that."

"We aren't even the same species you disgusting little thing."

"A tit's a tit though."

"Oh, that's charming. What do you want?"

"For you to take that coat off, real slow."

"Not happening. Was there anything else I could help you with? I don't want to doze in the bath too long. I hate getting prune fingers."

"I'm hoping to talk some sense into you, Cathy. It's about Mike and this taxi driver. It'd make everyone's life a lot easier if he just killed the chubby bastard. The Master doesn't really want to lose Mike, but he can't be seen to be letting a servant fuck up so many times without punishment."

"I don't think Mike will ever change his mind about that. He's not selfish enough."

"Okay, I was expecting that answer. Now for my second proposition. Why don't
you
kill him?"

"I asked Mike if he wanted me to do that, but he said no."

"So what? Are you going to take orders from a man? I thought you were one of those feminists."

"I'm not going to bite that bait. Think of something a little more original."

"Okay, how about this? When Cerberus comes for Mike at the end of the week I'll be on his back whispering into all six of his ears. I'm pretty sure I can convince him that you'd make an excellent dessert. And there are no double rooms in Hell for ordinary, dead sinners."

"Whatever. I'm not going to do it."

"Look, tell you what. I'll leave you alone for a day or two and let you mull it over. Then I'll come back and try and talk some sense into you again. Now, if you could just flash me before I leave, I'd be ever so grateful."

Cathy gave it a glare that made its shoulders sag. The imp and the tin he sat on faded away. It left a wet ring on the table. She wiped it with her sleeve and woke up in the bath. The water was still quite warm. She hadn't been asleep for long.

The details of the dream did not fade away like any other dream she'd ever had. She played it over and over again in her mind. As she towelled herself dry, slipped into cotton pyjamas and drained the last of her wine, she considered the imp's suggestion. In bed, she reached a decision before drifting off to sleep. Her dreams were not invaded by any disgusting, green creatures.

***

Cathy was early for work the next morning, feeling fresh and alive. Both Margaret and Mary commented on how well she looked. She accepted the comments gracefully. The three of them had their tea break at the same time, as it was a slow morning. Their chat turned to the future of the centre.

"Well, financially we're sound, but I feel guilty spending money on rent and utilities without actually doing any work." Margaret said.

"I don't understand," Mary said. "So many of these kids just seem to have drifted away from us. What can we do?"

"Maybe we should change direction a little." Cathy said.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked.

"I think we could be more proactive," Cathy said. "Instead of waiting for antisocial kids to feel guilty and come to us for advice, we could be a point of contact for the people that are suffering from the antisocial behaviour. Say an elderly lady is having trouble with kids drinking outside her house and throwing beer bottles in her garden. She comes to us and we make contact with the kids by going to the ladies house and engaging with them."

"That seems like it could be quite dangerous." Margaret said.

"If it's only the three of us trying to make contact with these kids, then yeah, it is risky, but I've thought of that. We try to get other youths who have cleaned up their acts to volunteer for us. They can connect with them on their level, and if things get scary, the volunteers will have the experience to know when to cut and run."

"This sounds very interesting," Mary said. "What would our role be?"

"We'd coordinate from this office. We meet and greet the troubled residents as they come in off the street and use the meeting rooms for relaxed consultations. We can then decide what kind of priority each individual's problem is and tackle them in an appropriate order."

"So we'd still be talking to the public and offering advice?" Mary asked.

"And biscuits and a shoulder to cry on. I think this could work, ladies."

"But what kind of teenager will volunteer for us?" Margaret asked.

"The ones we've helped in the past. The one person at the top of my list is Jim McCracken. He has made incredible progress. I'll be seeing him today. I'll ask him about it if you like."

"Jim McCracken? I thought he was a write-off."

"Sit in on my meeting with him today, Margaret. You'll see what I mean. Jim can talk to other people he thinks might be suitable for the role, and if we're lucky it'll snowball. What have we got to lose?"

"Absolutely nothing," Mary said. "Oh, Cathy, you are a genius."

"I'm very impressed too," Margaret said. "This might work."

"Be positive, ladies. Tell yourself that it can't fail."

The ladies nattered on about advertising, and getting themselves out there, and how this was such a positive thing to do. It surprised Cathy to realise that she actually
did
care about making this work. It wasn't even a case of helping out a couple of tough old birds she'd grown to like either. She actually thought that this fresh strategy could make a difference. When she'd applied for the job, she'd been a great believer in punishment beatings for the kids that couldn't act like decent human beings. Now she'd become one of those bleeding heart types that she'd always sneered at. And knowing she'd become one didn't bother her. She was willing to embrace it.

Jim came in for his appointment just before lunch. Cathy had gotten used to working through her lunch break. The average client from around the area only got themselves up and about around that time. One of the ladies would usually pop out and get her a sandwich when they knew she was held up. Jim looked taller because he was walking straight-backed instead of hunching like a theatre villain. He was dressed a little better too; blue jeans and a striped polo shirt. Not a sports logo in sight. He had also shaved the ridiculous moustache.

"Jim, you look great. What's the occasion?"

"Thanks. I just thought I could tidy myself up a little. It feels pretty good."

"Good for you. So what do you want to talk about today?"

"To be honest, I feel okay. But I thought it would have been rude to not show up after I'd arranged an appointment."

"I appreciate that. I have something I'd like to talk to you about though. Do you have ten minutes?"

"Of course."

"Do you mind if Margaret joins us in the meeting room?"

"Not at all."

Mary kept shop as the other three got down to business. Jim was very enthusiastic over Cathy's proposal. He agreed to get involved without a second thought. He told Margaret he could think of at least five others who would probably give it a go too. Cathy could tell by Margaret's expression she was impressed by Jim's personality transplant. Wide-eyed when she looked at Jim and a smile crimping her thin cheeks when she looked at Cathy. Cathy felt as though she should attribute some of Jim's progress to Mike and the whole Satanism movement, but she couldn't think of a way to slip it into the conversation.

Jim left with a new lease of life and the ladies got on the phone to the local newspapers to organise some publicity about the new strategy. Cathy asked the ladies if she could go home a couple of hours early. They were more than happy to let her go. She had been elevated to angel status.

She didn't go home, however. Instead she took a walk into the city centre and went to the taxi depot she'd been to with Mike and Frankie a few days ago. She stood outside and waited for the taxi driver from that day to show up. It was possible he was off duty or taking a fare to the airport and she'd stand there for hours, but Cathy decided to give it an hour and then go ask the firm's phone operator if they had a chubby soft-faced driver with two young girls and a miserable looking wife working for them, and when he was on next.

She got lucky. The driver pulled up to the footpath about a foot from where Cathy was standing twenty minutes into her stakeout. She intercepted him as he got out of his car and walked towards the depot. He wore a Glasgow Celtic football jersey, the taxi driver uniform in her corner of the world.

"Can we talk?"

"Do I know you, love?"

"No. Do you know Frankie Watson?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Couple of days ago he went on a bender. Me and a friend found him in town and took him back to my friend's house to try and dry him out. You were driving the taxi we brought him up the road in."

"Oh yeah, I remember you. He was out for the count."

"That's right. Well, he's going to be reported missing very soon and I was wondering what it would take to get you to forget that you saw us with him."

"Did you have something to do with making him disappear?"

"Why else would I want you to keep your mouth shut?"

The taxi driver scratched his head. He looked Cathy up and down. His eyes narrowed.

"So, I'm a witness to some bad shit you've done to a local hard man and you want to bribe me into silence. Is that about right?"

"That's exactly right. What's it going to be?"

"I can't help you. I've a wife and two kids. If I get done for withholding information and Frankie's crew finds out, I'll be in trouble with the cops and I'll get shot in the head by a mystery gunman. I'm not taking the chance."

"You see, I remembered the photo on your dashboard and knew you were a family man. That's why I wanted to give you a chance. My friend has been told to kill you to reduce the risk of this thing getting out of control. I'm trying to sort you out with a better deal here. How do you feel about taking that risk now?"

"I'm fucked if I do and I'm fucked if I don't. Typical."

"What do you mean?"

"This is the story of my life. One Saturday I'm minding my own business, trying to make a few quid and the next I'm getting shot for picking up the wrong fare. I wasn't even meant to be on that day."

"So you aren't a lucky guy then?"

"Only luck I get is bad luck and no luck."

"So take the chance and make your own luck. My friend can probably give you a tidy sum for your silence. Take the money and move somewhere else. You can taxi anywhere. Find a nice school for your girls, a hobby for your wife and leave all the bad memories of Belfast behind. This could be your one lucky break."