Wee Rockets (26 page)

Their saunter up Beechmount Avenue slowed to a halt within spitting distance of the shop. Liam flicked his fag butt onto the bonnet of a parked car. He took a deep breath.

"Then what?" Matt asked. The sick fucker wanted all the gory details.

"We stumbled on the last lane. I might have tripped over Tommy's feet or he might have got caught up in mine. Either way, we only stayed upright by clinging on to each other. Then I was falling towards the footpath. Almost took out a bunch of Spanish tourists. I heard something skidding. Then a thick, wet thumping sound. That's when the screaming started."

Matt leaned forward, wide-eyed and barely breathing. Eddie fidgeted, pulling at the short sleeves of his striped T-shirt and shifting his weight from foot to foot. He chewed on the inside of his pale cheeks. Liam inwardly congratulated himself on a job well done. His carefully planned version came out sounding natural and weighed down by anguish. He just needed another joint to smother the pangs of guilt gathering strength in the pit of his stomach.

"But..." Eddie paused, scrunched up his face and tried again. "But if the two of you were clinging on to each other how come Tommy didn't land on the footpath with you?"

Liam dropped the corners of his mouth and pushed out his lower lip. He looked Eddie right in the eye. "Don't you see, mate? Tommy pushed me. The last thing our Tommy ever did was save my life. Now that's a fucking mate."

Matt whistled long and low in appreciation. Eddie shook his head slowly. They'd bought it. Every last bit of it. Liam looked away from them, like he needed a minute to collect himself.

"I'll be back in a minute. That Fanta's not going to walk out to me."

The cover of the shop allowed him to drop his morose expression for a moment. A smile spread across his face as he lifted a can from the back of the cooler to make sure he got one of the coldest. After paying, he cracked open the tin in the shop and gulped down the first half. Heaven. Back outside he offered a swig to the twins. They both declined. Liam noticed something different in their manner. He figured they were in awe. A kid they grew up with had died to save their best mate. They had to respect that.

###

Joe rapped Wee Danny's door and enjoyed the solid thunk of knuckle on wood. The PVC doors, all the rage a few years ago, just didn't produce the same sound. Mister Gibson had been right to pass on the Housing Executive's offer. He'd taken the double-glazed windows but bought himself a solid pine front door with money from a whiplash claim. A little spyhole had been fitted into it. Danny couldn't reach it.

"Who is it?" Danny's snare drum voice travelled through the wood loud and clear.

"It's me, Joe. Let me in, would you?"

"Not by the hair on my wrinkled ball bag."

"Just open the door, dickhead."

The security chain rattled and the lock slid open. Danny opened the door a couple of inches and peeked out.

"You on your own, Joe?"

Joe shoved the door open, jolting Danny back a few steps.

"Yes, I'm on my own. Why are you acting like such a fruit?"

Danny spoke over his shoulder as he led Joe through the living room and into the kitchen at the back of the house. "I just can't be arsed with people. Everyone's telling me what I should be doing. I've been keeping a low profile until I get my head around the Tommy thing."

"Any luck with that?"

"Fuck, no. I still don't even believe it."

"I was just about to call around to his wake. Come with me. You'll believe it when you see him."

"Are you fucking nuts? Why would I want to do that? I didn't go to my granny's wake. I'm fucked if I'm going to Tommy's."

"You should say goodbye."

Wee Danny's chuckle sounded like a cancerous cough. "He's already gone, mate. We don't get to say goodbye."

"The funeral's not until Sunday. He'll be at his ma's until the hearse picks him up."

"That's not what I mean."

Joe opened the fridge and found a load of crappy vegetables. "Have you any biscuits or crisps?"

"No, my ma does the shopping on Saturdays."

"I bet there's wee bowls of crisps and plates of chocolate biscuits at Tommy's house."

Wee Danny ignored the observation. "I mean, do you see the point of wakes?"

"I don't see the point of loads of things, but that's life."

"What do you think Heaven's like?"

"It's probably shit. Like a Christmas mass. All that singing and rejoicing."

"Maybe it smells like incense. That'd be okay."

"It'd be better if it smelled like weed."

Wee Danny laughed a real laugh. "And you lay about on huge clouds of toke-smoke."

"And Pringles grew on trees."

"Hah, yeah. That'd be fucking sweet." Wee Danny unlocked the backdoor, beckoned for Joe to follow him into the yard and lit two fags. He passed one to Joe.

"Cheers, mate. I'll buy a pack later."

"No sweat." Wee Danny puffed a line of smoke rings and they floated off into the still air. "Do you think we'll go to Heaven?"

"Aye."

"Do you?"

"Kids don't go to Hell. We're, like, immune until we're eighteen."

"How do you know that?"

"It just makes sense. Why would God want to send a kid to Hell when there's plenty of murderers and kiddie fiddlers out there to keep the fire going? We're not altar boys, but we're not evil or anything."

"So you'd say Tommy definitely went to Heaven?"

"Of course. Sure he was the one that talked the Fegan twins out of taking knives out on our hunts. He'll probably get one of the nicest clouds for that."

Wee Danny nodded. "Yeah, you're right. He was the best of the lot of us, wasn't he?"

"He was a fucking saint."

They flicked their butts and had an unofficial minute's silence in honour of Tommy Four-Eyes. It ended with the blare of a car horn from a neighbouring street and the laughter of kids messing about. Joe thought he should get Danny out of the house, even if only for a trip to the shop.

"Come on and we'll go get some fags, mate."

Wee Danny pulled a twenty-pound note out of his pocket and waved it at Joe. "My ma gave me this yesterday to cheer me up. Know what we should do?"

"Tell me."

"Buy cigarettes, cider, chips and chocolate. Then we should find a nice spot to sit and fill ourselves up while we remember some more shit about Tommy. That'd kick the balls out of any fucking wake."

Joe's stomach rumbled agreement and they were on their way within the minute. Wee Danny seemed to be back to his old self as he gabbed on about the shite he'd been watching on TV all day. It seemed he wanted to save the Tommy-speak until he had a wee drop in him. Joe half-listened while his mind wandered. He kept getting flashback images of his da sniggering as he defaced McVeigh's Bruce Lee poster. They'd done little else after going to all that trouble to get in. His da had rooted about in a few drawers and took photos of some bills and letters with a real cracker of a digital camera. Joe didn't ask why. He just wanted to get out before McVeigh got home. Distracting his da with questions would have held them back.

"It'd be a good idea, wouldn't it, Joe?"

Wee Danny's direct question snapped Joe back into their conversation. "Aye, yeah. Good idea." He hadn't a clue about what he was agreeing with.

"Right, well, you phone Liam and I'll call the twins and they can pass it on to everyone else."

Shite.
"Um... you go first." There was a chance he'd catch what he'd missed if he heard what Wee Danny had to say to the twins.

"Why?"

"Because... they're probably together anyway. No point in making two calls if one will do the same job."

Wee Danny shrugged and conceded. "Hiya, Eddie? Yeah, it's Danny. Me and Joe are just heading to the off licence. We thought it might be good to all get together and have a wee memorial night for Tommy."

Joe inwardly cursed himself. He wasn't in the mood for a big gathering. He should have paid attention to Wee Danny's prattling. And Liam hadn't been in touch since he phoned Joe and told him about Tommy's accident. Joe wanted to talk to him about how Tommy had died and why he thought it was his fault. He would have to keep his questions to himself until he got Liam alone.

"Aye. Yeah. No, like just have a bit of a session and tell stories about the guy. Aye. The whole gang. Liam with you? Well, see what he thinks." Wee Danny crossed his eyes and pulled faces for Joe's entertainment while he waited for Eddie to get back to him. "Yeah? Right. Okay. I'll ask him."

Joe flicked his head back. "What is it?"

"They just want to know where to meet. You pick."

"How about Clarendon Dock? Down by the Seacat?"

"What for?"

"For a change. It's dead chilled out down there."

"There's plenty of places around here. We don't need to go that far."

Joe tutted. None of his mates ever wanted to go any further than the Lower Falls. "We'll just go to Dunville Park then."

Wee Danny nodded and passed it on. They agreed to meet in an hour to allow enough time to get a hold of the rest of the gang.

"So let's get that chip then," Joe said, "before I eat you."

They tucked into their takeaway food in the bus shelter at the park gates. It seemed as good a spot as any. Black taxis and busses trundled by as the rush hour congestion thinned. Considering the mild weather, Dunville Park was pretty vacant. A couple of families lurked around the play area, but they'd more than likely be on their way within the hour. They'd have the whole place to themselves. All the better for relaxing. It only ever took a snide remark or even a dirty look from some nosy prick to turn things nasty. Combine the usual malarkey with a fucked up week like the Rockets just had and it was a recipe for disaster.

"What about your da then?" Wee Danny asked.

"What about him?"

"Has he been cool to you or what?"

Joe stalled for a few seconds, amazed by how much had gone on in just a few days. He hadn't even had time to tell Wee Danny about stealing the Honda or breaking into McVeigh's. "Ah, mate, if Tommy hadn't died, this might have been the best week of my life."

"Seriously? How come?"

He started with an in-depth description of Emily, a serious indication of his da's success, and went on to tell his best mate about the joyride and the burglary.

"And you never asked him why he was so interested in McVeigh's paperwork?"

"No." Joe Shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find out sooner or later."

Wee Danny shook his head. "And the teachers are always going on about your potential too. You've not got two brain cells to rub together."

"I'm too busy rubbing your ma's..."

"Hey," Wee Danny said. "Let the man who lives in a glass whore house throw the first stone."

"What the fuck's that mean?"

"It's a famous quote, you goon."

Joe creased his brow. "You're full of shit, wee lad."

"No, I'm full of useful information. That's how I've already figured out what your da is going to do with McVeigh's details."

"And are you going to tell me?"

"Identity theft."

"You what?"

Wee Danny rolled up the greasy paper bag he'd eaten his chips from and dropped it at his feet. He rubbed his hands dry on his jeans and burped. "Our Paul told me about it. He had to do a course on something called Data Protection before he was allowed anywhere near a phone. If somebody else gets a hold of a customer's address and bank account numbers or internet banking passwords they can start applying for loans and credit cards and all sorts. Then it's party time."

"And the customer pays all the bills?"

"Now you're getting it."

"Fuck, imagine how much debt they'd be in."