I need to declutter.
This is one of my earliest efforts. I post it here not because it's fit for Showcase, nor to avoid comment, but more to save people the hassle of making comment when I'll not change this. That's not because it's not got flaws. It clearly has, and probably ones I continue to repeat. More, I think it has heart that I do try to replicate with better quality writing and I have an affection for it, more than some of my other early stories, but know that it won't ever get published. I'm posting it here so it can complete its journey and I have one less thing cluttering my head. Thanks to anyone who reads it.
Content warning for profanities and references to sensitive issues.
Johnny's coming home. Not five years. Not next year. Not next month. Not even next week. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will come back home and everything will be fine again.
This was his longest stretch away and Phil, his mother of 33 years as Johnny would say, had felt it hardest of all. Johnny was her second child but the eldest since Joe's accident. She had two other children, another boy, Chris, and Mary, the youngest. Chris lived in the city, shacked up with his girlfriend and her two kids in the city centre. He called when he was broke, tapping her for loose change before payday. Mary took the bus to London and never even sent a card.
She hadn't seen Jimmy Dolan, their father, for nearly twenty years. His family stopped asking if she knew where he was years ago. Just as well because it had got wearing. No, haven't seen him turned into How the hell would I know and was approaching Fuck off he was only a bastard before they backed off.
Johnny was her constant but was away for the longest time. Too long. So long he would see the changes in her. Stairs were trouble. Doing the smallest things left her breathless and struggling. She was nearly 50 years old, pushing on, not getting younger.
Liz O'Keeffe in Tesco chatted while putting Phil's few bits through. When's he getting home she asked. God, you won't know yourself. It was nice of her to ask and Phil told her all about her plans to welcome him home. Just picking up the last few things for him, Phil said, make it special this time. She told Liz about how well he was doing. You won't recognise him, she said. Liz said that was good and wished her well.
She gathered up her bits, branded bread, fresh cut steak, cereals and pastas and snacks and cider and paper napkins and a cake. It will be a right feast, she thought, as she put the shopping into bags she kept in the boot of the car. She found herself back in front of Liz a few minutes later, panting heavily with the effort of rushing back. Jesus, she said, I nearly forgot about breakfast and she put sausages, bacon and puddings onto the counter. There'd be killings if I forgot about breakfast she said, gulping air until she coughed, a barking, raspy effort that cut her throat. Liz smiled gently and took hold of Phil's arm. You mind yourself she said. Give us a couple of packs of Amber Leaf while you're at it, Liz. Liz was beautiful when she smiled, she thought, reminds me of her mother. Tell your mam I was asking for her she called over her shoulder as she stepped as quickly as she could towards the door.
She never loved this house. She put the bags on the kitchen counter and caught her breath. Her home was in the Island Field where her parents still lived in the house that once belonged to her father's parents. Regeneration demolished her row over three years ago and now here she was out in Castletroy, estate after identical estate of new houses and new people. Lots of students, being so close to the university. Her sister lived in the next estate and a couple of cousins not far away but it still wasn't the same. In St Mary's Park, anyone that wasn't your cousin was your cousin's cousin.
She didn't belong out here. The little differences between the estates that helped give your bearings were lost on her. It all looked the same and she still passed her turn as often as not. The young ones from college with their braces and perfect teeth looked at her funny and stepped wide if she was on the street.
There was no going back. The chances of a transfer back to St Mary's were very slim. The chances of jumping the queue were anorexic. She'd get fewer funny looks with Johnny by her side, though. He wouldn't stand for that. Come tomorrow, it will all be different.
She'd had more visitors in the last few days than in the months previous. Some of Johnny's friends came by the day before, checking when he'd be home. You're looking well, Kieran Jones said to her, you haven't changed a bit. I suppose we'll be seeing more of you now she said. You can bet on it he called through the open window as he took off down the street.
Her niece, Jayne, had called earlier that day with her two-year-old Ben. She called by to see if she needed any help getting the house together. Jesus, Phil, you have the place lovely she said. Johnny's room is gorgeous. He'll love the United cushions.
There was nothing left to do so they chatted with a cup of tea while Ben played with a ball out the back. He's got Fitzgerald running right through him she said to Jayne. Can't deny it, Jayne answered, the poor little fucker. They laughed and threw the ball for little Ben to catch.
Detective Leonard had called by the week before. Just a chat, he said, make sure you're ok. The Guards could be a strange lot. Most just doing their job. Detective Leonard was serious about his job, though, and she'd known him for years, well before he got out of uniform and carried a gun. He'd pulled Jimmy off her many a night and kept him in the barracks until he sobered up. He tried to get her to make a statement but the Fitzgerald's didn't rat on anyone, especially family. Eventually, he gave up. After Jimmy disappeared, he spoke to her because the Dolans wanted answers. He told her he was in no hurry to find Jimmy. Just make sure he stays missing he said. There was years when she never met him but she saw a lot of him when Johnny was around.
The Guards really are a strange bunch. They have a job but some are more into it than others. Strutting around with their utility belts like they're fucking batman, Johnny used to say, except they've got a notebook and a torch instead of flying weapons and zipcords. Then he'd walk around with his chest puffed out and grab his imaginary utility belt and with a big show would start writing in his imaginary notebook.
Johnny could be very funny but they never said that about him. Always the angry young man. There were barristers who were the cleverest men in the country and spent years learning the law and got paid bucket loads to represent. And the best they could say in Johnny's defence was that he was an angry young man.
It was his father made him angry. Johnny was a Fitzgerald head to toe but he had his father's piercing blue eyes. He had seen his father at his worst, falling down drunk but still able to throw a punch. Johnny was six years old the first time he stepped in front of his mother when Jimmy was caught up in a rage. It only meant there was two who were left sore, bruised and sobbing with broken teeth that would never get fixed. She felt guilty but it did give her comfort that Johnny would share the beating.
In the days after, Johnny would hug her tight, catching her unawares at an awkward angle, pressing the flesh in her arm in a pinch that stung. She never said a word to stop him and never pushed him away.
All those days with Jimmy, she was a regular with the doctor and on a prescription for Upjohn’s. The doctors never get it right. With the benzo's, some get too many. Others not enough. The Free Market took care of that and them that had too much sold the extra to them that were left short. Twenty euros for a card of ten benzo's. That should have pleased them, the politicians, forever going on about the Free Market and how the government couldn't get involved with the housing or the banks or the poor but still they complained about the scourge of drugs in society. Wankers the lot of them with their big cars and false smiles and empty promises. Some day she might find a doctor who prescribed enough to sell on to someone less fortunate but it hadn't happened yet.
The years living with Jimmy were mostly blurred by Upjohn’s. It took a lot to get through a day with him, watching the signs and trying not to upset him. Most of it a blur with dream-like visions of small babies and doctor's visits and the nurse and, then, the social workers and the Courthouse. When she closed her eyes she saw a vision like in a dream of a scissors and blood and blood on the scissors. And then little Johnny's blue eyes looking up at her. That dream was terrible and she always shook a little, hummed a tune from when she was young and pushed it from her mind. If that didn't work, there was always a few pills in her bag that did the job.
After Jimmy left, the social workers backed off. Sent her to do a parenting course and checked in less often because the kids were regular at school and staying on for the homework club. After Jimmy left, they were clean and fed and regular.
It hadn't always been bad with Jimmy. When they first started, he was good to her. She and a few of the girls used to meet in the green where Jimmy sat around a bonfire with the Mitchell brothers and Pa McNamara. She was only fourteen but he offered her the flagon the first night. When she kept coming back, Jimmy sat her beside him and she was first for the joint after him. There was a little wall off to the side and he'd bring her there, kiss her hard on the lips, push his tongue into her mouth. He didn't have to hold her so hard. There was nowhere else she wanted to be. She didn't care who was watching and he'd press his cock hard against her, push her hands down his pants until a few minutes later he got soft and she found something to wipe her hands. This is my woman he'd say to the others when they'd walk back to the bonfire and she'd tell him to fuck off, she was nobody's woman but her own.
She turned her ‘phone to a song she liked. She heard it in the local shop when they had a classic station on the radio. It was I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls, sung by Joan Sutherland, a love song she was sure but something in it made her think of Joe. Poor dead Joe up in heaven with big marble halls. He'll be looking down at you, they said at his funeral, don't worry, Joe will look out for you. She knew Joe was lazy as sin and she could picture St Peter trying to get him out of his heavenly bed in the morning. Get the finger out, Joe, she said in a whisper as she looked out the kitchen window at the dark, cloud-filled sky and smiled thinking of St Peter writing disciplinary reports for heaven's management meeting. Tears welled as she listened to the song. Johnny had saved it after he found her shaking in the shop, crying after poor Joe, the song still on the radio.
She remembered a TV show she came across one night. A bunch of balding, posh, well-spoken men was talking about a tree falling in the forest. If no-one's there, they wondered, does it make a sound. She watched for a few minutes, expecting the punchline, except it wasn’t a skit. It's about perception and reality, they said, all smug and pleased with themselves. Fuck the tree she thought. Fuck the forest and fuck the baldy scholars and fuck the no-one there hearing it. What sound does a child make dying in an alley with no-one there? Does he make a sound as he grabs his chest with his organs failing, is there the gurgle when he's choking on vomit and bile? Does he cry for his mother when he's dying alone in a dirty alley? Did Joe cry her name when he collapsed from heroin and everything else and life left him lying with the rubbish?
Fuck the tree, fuck the forest and fuck the baldy men who think it matters.
Johnny would be home tomorrow and he promised her it would be different this time. He would be different, he said, he was smashed and would not be coming back to prison. This was his longest sentence, eight years for armed robbery. He would be in prison exactly six years with the quarter remission taken off. Johnny would never get TR. He'd never suck up to the governor. He'd never beg for it. Besides, the angry young man would not be released until the very last day.
She went to see him every second Thursday morning and put fifty euros into his account. She would chat with the other mothers, wives and girlfriends all doing the same thing. Johnny looked strong and told her he was working out in the gym, eating healthy and wasn't using drugs. I've given up smoking, he said, and might even find God if I'm not careful. All was good, he said and she could see the change from the bag of bones that got sentenced to this handsome young man that filled his clothes the way men are supposed to.
The officers were nice to her, especially Mr Hanlon. In the early days, it was blue gloves and a pat down in a private room. It was their job but they made it as pleasant as possible. Now, there was the x-ray machine, the blue gloves and a metal detector. Her bra sent off the metal detector every time but they knew her. They knew the ones that would carry and what to watch out for. Phil always passed through for the visit.
Mr Hanlon excused himself one Thursday before she was put through the dog. I hope you're not offended, he said. She could feel her heart race. My first day on this job, he said, was just thirty years ago. I remember you coming in to your husband, Jimmy Dolan, and I've seen you visiting ever since. I'm retiring next week, he said, and I'd like to tell you that you've taken good care of these lads down the years and I wish you well.
We were never married, she said. After the dog passed her for the visit, she was led away by another officer. She turned back as she followed through the door into the wide courtyard. Feeling her cheeks flush, she said Thank you Mr Hanlon. I wish you the best in your retirement.
Only once was there a change to this routine. About six months ago, she was brought to a different room and Johnny brought to her wearing a bright green shirt and baby blue pants that were too short. He had prison issue shoes on his feet and a swollen cheek that blended yellow with purple and black. There was a thick Perspex window between them for the entire visit.
Prison law, Johnny said. That’s the way it is in here. Sometimes you've no choice but to play ball. He explained that every society has its ways, that the rules outside are different in prison and the laws for the rich are different to the laws for the poor. The fucking bank can steal someone's home but I'll go to prison for stealing a pan of bread to feed my family. It made sense, in a way. He'd said that before, sitting around the kitchen in St Mary's Park. Danny Mack pointed out that Johnny had no kids and no-one could ever remember him getting a charge sheet with a pan of fucking bread on it. Johnny laughed with them all that night. Danny deserved the few slaps he got a few weeks later when he said something else smart.
It was getting late and the air had cooled. The evening was less heavy than the day had been. The windows were open all day but only now was there any freshness to the draught. She left the windows open but pulled the curtains so the night’s flying insects wouldn’t be attracted by the lights. She could lock up later.
The house was as good as she could make it. Johnny was as good as she’d seen him. He looked strong, a changed man he said. He might look for a job this time. Find a new routine, a different way of living that would keep him away from the drugs and the crime. It’s hard to change but he was done with it all. Find a girl and settle down, that’s the plan.
The kettle came to a boil and clicked off. Phil reached into the press for tea bags when she heard movement behind her. She jumped, hitting her head on the counter. She felt a strain in her chest as she turned and saw him standing there. A ghost with bright blue eyes and a faint wisp of cider, leaning against the door frame, the familiar tilt of the head, the casual confidence of knowing his place.
Jimm…………? She started but choked on the word.
Hi ma, Johnny said. I got one whole day off. Kieran Jones stood behind him with his arms folded and a wide grin on his face. Tears burst from her eyes, catching her by surprise.
Johnny walked across the kitchen the way he always did, his arms stretched wide to embrace her the way he always did.
This is one of my earliest efforts. I post it here not because it's fit for Showcase, nor to avoid comment, but more to save people the hassle of making comment when I'll not change this. That's not because it's not got flaws. It clearly has, and probably ones I continue to repeat. More, I think it has heart that I do try to replicate with better quality writing and I have an affection for it, more than some of my other early stories, but know that it won't ever get published. I'm posting it here so it can complete its journey and I have one less thing cluttering my head. Thanks to anyone who reads it.
Content warning for profanities and references to sensitive issues.
Johnny's Coming Home
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Johnny's coming home. Not five years. Not next year. Not next month. Not even next week. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will come back home and everything will be fine again.
This was his longest stretch away and Phil, his mother of 33 years as Johnny would say, had felt it hardest of all. Johnny was her second child but the eldest since Joe's accident. She had two other children, another boy, Chris, and Mary, the youngest. Chris lived in the city, shacked up with his girlfriend and her two kids in the city centre. He called when he was broke, tapping her for loose change before payday. Mary took the bus to London and never even sent a card.
She hadn't seen Jimmy Dolan, their father, for nearly twenty years. His family stopped asking if she knew where he was years ago. Just as well because it had got wearing. No, haven't seen him turned into How the hell would I know and was approaching Fuck off he was only a bastard before they backed off.
Johnny was her constant but was away for the longest time. Too long. So long he would see the changes in her. Stairs were trouble. Doing the smallest things left her breathless and struggling. She was nearly 50 years old, pushing on, not getting younger.
Liz O'Keeffe in Tesco chatted while putting Phil's few bits through. When's he getting home she asked. God, you won't know yourself. It was nice of her to ask and Phil told her all about her plans to welcome him home. Just picking up the last few things for him, Phil said, make it special this time. She told Liz about how well he was doing. You won't recognise him, she said. Liz said that was good and wished her well.
She gathered up her bits, branded bread, fresh cut steak, cereals and pastas and snacks and cider and paper napkins and a cake. It will be a right feast, she thought, as she put the shopping into bags she kept in the boot of the car. She found herself back in front of Liz a few minutes later, panting heavily with the effort of rushing back. Jesus, she said, I nearly forgot about breakfast and she put sausages, bacon and puddings onto the counter. There'd be killings if I forgot about breakfast she said, gulping air until she coughed, a barking, raspy effort that cut her throat. Liz smiled gently and took hold of Phil's arm. You mind yourself she said. Give us a couple of packs of Amber Leaf while you're at it, Liz. Liz was beautiful when she smiled, she thought, reminds me of her mother. Tell your mam I was asking for her she called over her shoulder as she stepped as quickly as she could towards the door.
She never loved this house. She put the bags on the kitchen counter and caught her breath. Her home was in the Island Field where her parents still lived in the house that once belonged to her father's parents. Regeneration demolished her row over three years ago and now here she was out in Castletroy, estate after identical estate of new houses and new people. Lots of students, being so close to the university. Her sister lived in the next estate and a couple of cousins not far away but it still wasn't the same. In St Mary's Park, anyone that wasn't your cousin was your cousin's cousin.
She didn't belong out here. The little differences between the estates that helped give your bearings were lost on her. It all looked the same and she still passed her turn as often as not. The young ones from college with their braces and perfect teeth looked at her funny and stepped wide if she was on the street.
There was no going back. The chances of a transfer back to St Mary's were very slim. The chances of jumping the queue were anorexic. She'd get fewer funny looks with Johnny by her side, though. He wouldn't stand for that. Come tomorrow, it will all be different.
She'd had more visitors in the last few days than in the months previous. Some of Johnny's friends came by the day before, checking when he'd be home. You're looking well, Kieran Jones said to her, you haven't changed a bit. I suppose we'll be seeing more of you now she said. You can bet on it he called through the open window as he took off down the street.
Her niece, Jayne, had called earlier that day with her two-year-old Ben. She called by to see if she needed any help getting the house together. Jesus, Phil, you have the place lovely she said. Johnny's room is gorgeous. He'll love the United cushions.
There was nothing left to do so they chatted with a cup of tea while Ben played with a ball out the back. He's got Fitzgerald running right through him she said to Jayne. Can't deny it, Jayne answered, the poor little fucker. They laughed and threw the ball for little Ben to catch.
Detective Leonard had called by the week before. Just a chat, he said, make sure you're ok. The Guards could be a strange lot. Most just doing their job. Detective Leonard was serious about his job, though, and she'd known him for years, well before he got out of uniform and carried a gun. He'd pulled Jimmy off her many a night and kept him in the barracks until he sobered up. He tried to get her to make a statement but the Fitzgerald's didn't rat on anyone, especially family. Eventually, he gave up. After Jimmy disappeared, he spoke to her because the Dolans wanted answers. He told her he was in no hurry to find Jimmy. Just make sure he stays missing he said. There was years when she never met him but she saw a lot of him when Johnny was around.
The Guards really are a strange bunch. They have a job but some are more into it than others. Strutting around with their utility belts like they're fucking batman, Johnny used to say, except they've got a notebook and a torch instead of flying weapons and zipcords. Then he'd walk around with his chest puffed out and grab his imaginary utility belt and with a big show would start writing in his imaginary notebook.
Johnny could be very funny but they never said that about him. Always the angry young man. There were barristers who were the cleverest men in the country and spent years learning the law and got paid bucket loads to represent. And the best they could say in Johnny's defence was that he was an angry young man.
It was his father made him angry. Johnny was a Fitzgerald head to toe but he had his father's piercing blue eyes. He had seen his father at his worst, falling down drunk but still able to throw a punch. Johnny was six years old the first time he stepped in front of his mother when Jimmy was caught up in a rage. It only meant there was two who were left sore, bruised and sobbing with broken teeth that would never get fixed. She felt guilty but it did give her comfort that Johnny would share the beating.
In the days after, Johnny would hug her tight, catching her unawares at an awkward angle, pressing the flesh in her arm in a pinch that stung. She never said a word to stop him and never pushed him away.
All those days with Jimmy, she was a regular with the doctor and on a prescription for Upjohn’s. The doctors never get it right. With the benzo's, some get too many. Others not enough. The Free Market took care of that and them that had too much sold the extra to them that were left short. Twenty euros for a card of ten benzo's. That should have pleased them, the politicians, forever going on about the Free Market and how the government couldn't get involved with the housing or the banks or the poor but still they complained about the scourge of drugs in society. Wankers the lot of them with their big cars and false smiles and empty promises. Some day she might find a doctor who prescribed enough to sell on to someone less fortunate but it hadn't happened yet.
The years living with Jimmy were mostly blurred by Upjohn’s. It took a lot to get through a day with him, watching the signs and trying not to upset him. Most of it a blur with dream-like visions of small babies and doctor's visits and the nurse and, then, the social workers and the Courthouse. When she closed her eyes she saw a vision like in a dream of a scissors and blood and blood on the scissors. And then little Johnny's blue eyes looking up at her. That dream was terrible and she always shook a little, hummed a tune from when she was young and pushed it from her mind. If that didn't work, there was always a few pills in her bag that did the job.
After Jimmy left, the social workers backed off. Sent her to do a parenting course and checked in less often because the kids were regular at school and staying on for the homework club. After Jimmy left, they were clean and fed and regular.
It hadn't always been bad with Jimmy. When they first started, he was good to her. She and a few of the girls used to meet in the green where Jimmy sat around a bonfire with the Mitchell brothers and Pa McNamara. She was only fourteen but he offered her the flagon the first night. When she kept coming back, Jimmy sat her beside him and she was first for the joint after him. There was a little wall off to the side and he'd bring her there, kiss her hard on the lips, push his tongue into her mouth. He didn't have to hold her so hard. There was nowhere else she wanted to be. She didn't care who was watching and he'd press his cock hard against her, push her hands down his pants until a few minutes later he got soft and she found something to wipe her hands. This is my woman he'd say to the others when they'd walk back to the bonfire and she'd tell him to fuck off, she was nobody's woman but her own.
She turned her ‘phone to a song she liked. She heard it in the local shop when they had a classic station on the radio. It was I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls, sung by Joan Sutherland, a love song she was sure but something in it made her think of Joe. Poor dead Joe up in heaven with big marble halls. He'll be looking down at you, they said at his funeral, don't worry, Joe will look out for you. She knew Joe was lazy as sin and she could picture St Peter trying to get him out of his heavenly bed in the morning. Get the finger out, Joe, she said in a whisper as she looked out the kitchen window at the dark, cloud-filled sky and smiled thinking of St Peter writing disciplinary reports for heaven's management meeting. Tears welled as she listened to the song. Johnny had saved it after he found her shaking in the shop, crying after poor Joe, the song still on the radio.
She remembered a TV show she came across one night. A bunch of balding, posh, well-spoken men was talking about a tree falling in the forest. If no-one's there, they wondered, does it make a sound. She watched for a few minutes, expecting the punchline, except it wasn’t a skit. It's about perception and reality, they said, all smug and pleased with themselves. Fuck the tree she thought. Fuck the forest and fuck the baldy scholars and fuck the no-one there hearing it. What sound does a child make dying in an alley with no-one there? Does he make a sound as he grabs his chest with his organs failing, is there the gurgle when he's choking on vomit and bile? Does he cry for his mother when he's dying alone in a dirty alley? Did Joe cry her name when he collapsed from heroin and everything else and life left him lying with the rubbish?
Fuck the tree, fuck the forest and fuck the baldy men who think it matters.
Johnny would be home tomorrow and he promised her it would be different this time. He would be different, he said, he was smashed and would not be coming back to prison. This was his longest sentence, eight years for armed robbery. He would be in prison exactly six years with the quarter remission taken off. Johnny would never get TR. He'd never suck up to the governor. He'd never beg for it. Besides, the angry young man would not be released until the very last day.
She went to see him every second Thursday morning and put fifty euros into his account. She would chat with the other mothers, wives and girlfriends all doing the same thing. Johnny looked strong and told her he was working out in the gym, eating healthy and wasn't using drugs. I've given up smoking, he said, and might even find God if I'm not careful. All was good, he said and she could see the change from the bag of bones that got sentenced to this handsome young man that filled his clothes the way men are supposed to.
The officers were nice to her, especially Mr Hanlon. In the early days, it was blue gloves and a pat down in a private room. It was their job but they made it as pleasant as possible. Now, there was the x-ray machine, the blue gloves and a metal detector. Her bra sent off the metal detector every time but they knew her. They knew the ones that would carry and what to watch out for. Phil always passed through for the visit.
Mr Hanlon excused himself one Thursday before she was put through the dog. I hope you're not offended, he said. She could feel her heart race. My first day on this job, he said, was just thirty years ago. I remember you coming in to your husband, Jimmy Dolan, and I've seen you visiting ever since. I'm retiring next week, he said, and I'd like to tell you that you've taken good care of these lads down the years and I wish you well.
We were never married, she said. After the dog passed her for the visit, she was led away by another officer. She turned back as she followed through the door into the wide courtyard. Feeling her cheeks flush, she said Thank you Mr Hanlon. I wish you the best in your retirement.
Only once was there a change to this routine. About six months ago, she was brought to a different room and Johnny brought to her wearing a bright green shirt and baby blue pants that were too short. He had prison issue shoes on his feet and a swollen cheek that blended yellow with purple and black. There was a thick Perspex window between them for the entire visit.
Prison law, Johnny said. That’s the way it is in here. Sometimes you've no choice but to play ball. He explained that every society has its ways, that the rules outside are different in prison and the laws for the rich are different to the laws for the poor. The fucking bank can steal someone's home but I'll go to prison for stealing a pan of bread to feed my family. It made sense, in a way. He'd said that before, sitting around the kitchen in St Mary's Park. Danny Mack pointed out that Johnny had no kids and no-one could ever remember him getting a charge sheet with a pan of fucking bread on it. Johnny laughed with them all that night. Danny deserved the few slaps he got a few weeks later when he said something else smart.
It was getting late and the air had cooled. The evening was less heavy than the day had been. The windows were open all day but only now was there any freshness to the draught. She left the windows open but pulled the curtains so the night’s flying insects wouldn’t be attracted by the lights. She could lock up later.
The house was as good as she could make it. Johnny was as good as she’d seen him. He looked strong, a changed man he said. He might look for a job this time. Find a new routine, a different way of living that would keep him away from the drugs and the crime. It’s hard to change but he was done with it all. Find a girl and settle down, that’s the plan.
The kettle came to a boil and clicked off. Phil reached into the press for tea bags when she heard movement behind her. She jumped, hitting her head on the counter. She felt a strain in her chest as she turned and saw him standing there. A ghost with bright blue eyes and a faint wisp of cider, leaning against the door frame, the familiar tilt of the head, the casual confidence of knowing his place.
Jimm…………? She started but choked on the word.
Hi ma, Johnny said. I got one whole day off. Kieran Jones stood behind him with his arms folded and a wide grin on his face. Tears burst from her eyes, catching her by surprise.
Johnny walked across the kitchen the way he always did, his arms stretched wide to embrace her the way he always did.
