Blood Tracks (14 page)

The forklift truck whirred as Declan pulled the lever and the sacks rose up into the air. The machine juddered as he brought the load safely down onto the shelves, sending a cloud of chocolate dust into the atmosphere.

“Well done, Dec. You’ve really got the hang of this,” Pete, his workmate, shouted up to him.

Declan smiled beneath his hard hat. Yeah, he was okay at this and actually enjoying the job had been a surprise bonus for him.

He climbed down from the truck and went to see if he could spot Tom. He’d been trying to keep an eye on him all morning. If Gina’s theory was right, if the last set of digits on that piece of paper did represent a date, then today was the day, and he didn’t want to let Tom out of his sight.

As Declan strode down the aisle he spotted Tom heading out of the warehouse and towards his car. Declan rushed into the office and found Kylie dunking a biscuit into a steaming cup of tea.

“Hiya, Declan, fancy a cuppa?” she asked.

“No thanks. I was just wondered where Tom had gone?”

“He said he had to pop over to Clare’s house. Said he’d be back in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks,” Declan said, his mind racing. He jogged out of the warehouse and onto the quayside into the bracing sea air.

He got his phone out and started to text.
Please have your phone on, Gina,
he willed.

Mr. Hannigan, the history teacher, was fighting a losing battle, trying to enthuse class 11H about the War of the Roses, when Gina’s phone vibrated from inside her schoolbag.

She ducked down to answer it before Mr. Hannigan noticed.

She opened the text from Declan:
Phone me now, urgent.

Gina’s hand shot up. “Sir!”

“Good to see that someone was listening.” The ageing teacher smiled. “So, what
was
the turning point in the conflict, Gina?”

“Er…I don’t know, sir, but can I be excused? I’ve got really bad stomach cramps. I think I need something from the nurse.”

The teacher looked uneasy – he knew the code for female problems and wasn’t about to question her.

“Off you go, then,” he said wearily.

Gina headed for the toilets and phoned Declan.

“What is it?” Gina whispered.

“Tom’s just left the warehouse to go to your house. Is anyone home?”

“No, Danny’s at school. Mum’s working till six.”

“You know what the date is?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then can you get back to your house and see what he’s up to?”

“What? Now? But I’m in school!”

“So? Haven’t you ever bunked off before?”

“No,” she replied, sounding disappointed in herself.

“Well there’s a first time for everything, Gina. Just walk out confidently like you’ve been given permission. It’s easy,” the expert advised. “It’s got to be you, Gina. It’s your house. It will look too weird if I turn up.”

Gina felt her pulse quickening as she started to rehearse her lines to get past the school receptionist.

She could see Tom’s car parked outside her house. As soon as Gina entered the hallway she heard noises coming from upstairs. She reached the landing and listened. He was in her mum’s bedroom. She opened the door quickly, hoping to catch him, but for a second her world froze.

She gawped at the figure with his back to her. He was crouched over a drawer that had been pulled out from the wardrobe. His head was bent forward. All Gina could see was the green tweed jacket he was wearing: her dad’s favourite jacket. The one he wore for best. The one he’d worn for so many happy celebrations in their lives.

She didn’t know why she said it. It made no sense but, for a split second, despite all logic, every fibre in her being willed it to be him.

“Dad?” she called out, her voice tremulous.

But the face that turned to her was Tom’s.

“Oh, Gina. What must you think?” He looked dismayed and guilty. He stood up and approached her.

She stepped back, shaken. “What are you doing? Why have you got my dad’s jacket on? Why are you going through all my dad’s things?”

“I’m clearing out, for your mum,” he answered gently.

Gina looked around at the plump black bags sitting around the room, her father’s clothes poking out of them. She saw that all the bedroom furniture had been pulled away from the walls. Box files of her dad’s paperwork lay open on the bed.

“I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you with the jacket. I didn’t expect you’d be home. I saw it in the wardrobe and…I know this is going to sound strange, but I suddenly needed to put it on. I can’t explain it, but wearing it, I feel close to Marty, connected with him somehow.”

Gina watched Tom’s face crumple with emotion.

“How did you get in?” she asked coldly.

“Your mum gave me a set of keys.”

“Well give them back!” she ordered, putting out her hand.

“No, Gina. Someone should have a spare set, in case of emergencies. Listen, I’m only trying to help. Your mum hasn’t been able to face clearing everything out. I suggested that I could make a start; bagging his clothes up to give to charity.”

Gina couldn’t be placated. “How convenient. You, getting rid of any trace of my dad. Do you think it will make it easier for you to take over his family?”

Tom looked wounded. “I’d never try to replace your dad. I’m not half the man he was.”

“Well at least you’ve got that right.”

“Why are you determined to battle against me? Your mum and Danny don’t have a problem with me. They like having me around.”

She put her hands on her hips, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why
are
you always here? Do you fancy my mum?”

Tom shook his head disapprovingly. “What kind of question is that?”

“She’s hardly your type, is she?”

“I didn’t think that I had a type,” he replied.

Gina laughed derisively. “Come off it. You’ve been out with so many boob-job blondes half your age that I bet you couldn’t tell them apart.”

“Okay.” Tom nodded. “I’ll put my hands up for being attracted to a certain type of woman, once upon a time. But I’ve changed, Gina. I’ve grown up. I don’t expect you to understand. I’m middle-aged and my friend is dead – it’s made me realize what’s important in life…
who
is important in life. Your mum is a wonderful woman and I think the world of her, but all I’m trying to do is to look after you all. It’s what your dad would have wanted.”

Gina scrutinized his face.

He seems so sincere. So bloody sincere!

“But…” she began. Tom held his hand up to silence her.

“But nothing, Gina. You need to show a little more respect. I thought we’d come to an understanding after the other day. Have you bought something nice for your mum yet, with the money I gave you?” His tone was accusatory.

Gina bit her lip, seething. “Give me my dad’s jacket…please!”

He took it off and held it out. She grabbed hold of it, but Tom didn’t let go; instead he pulled it towards him. His bowed face was only inches from hers. The intensity of his gaze made Gina’s skin prickle.

“You look so like him, Gina,” he said in a hushed tone. “It’s not just the eyes and the lips. It’s the little things, like the way you stick your chin out when you’re annoyed. You know that, because of you, Marty will never be completely gone.”

Gina ripped the jacket out of his hands and held it tightly to her like a comfort blanket.

“You need to go now,” she said, fighting the tremor in her voice.

“Okay,” he said, heading for the door. “I understand how upsetting this is, but remember, no matter how much you try to push me away, I’ll always be here for you.”

Gina sat on her bed, tightening the laces on her trainers. She needed to get out and clear her head. She just kept thinking about the numbers on that piece of paper. She was so frustrated that nothing had happened on the day and was desperate to find out what Tom was up to.

She looked over at her bedroom wall. Her eyes fell on the photo of her dad at one of the Running Club presentations. In it, she was holding up a medal. He had his arm around her proudly. He looked so smart in his best jacket. The one she’d found Tom wearing. She shuddered at the thought of how weird Tom had been with her.

She’d told her mum about it, asked angrily, “Why was he clearing out my dad’s things? Don’t you think you should have mentioned it to us?”

Her mum had been upset, apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Gina. Of course I would have discussed it with you but I didn’t know. Tom had mentioned it and I’d vaguely agreed that it had to be done at some point, but then he just went and got on with it.”

“Well, I hope you’re going to tell him that he’s out of order.”

“I can’t do that. He was only trying to help. We just got our wires crossed.”

“And why has he got our house keys? You’ve got to get them back off him.”

Her mum had been flustered. “I can’t ask for them back, Tom wouldn’t be happy. He thought he should have a set, in case of emergencies. It seemed like a good idea.”

“But that means he can let himself into our house whenever he wants!”

She’d sounded exasperated. “Of course he won’t. This is your Uncle Tom. Stop talking about him like he’s a stranger.”

Now Gina blew a kiss at her wall of photos and ran to Hanover Street. She knocked on the door, trying not to breathe in the pungent aroma from Mrs. Mac’s bizarre floral display in the window boxes.

The crinkled old lady opened the door. “Hello.” She smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Mrs. McManus? Is Declan home? I’m his friend, Gina.”

It was as if the Pope had just appeared on the doorstep.

“Bridie!” Mrs. Mac called. “Come on to the door. Gina’s here.”

“Gina?” a puzzled voice said. A diminutive figure shuffled to the door. “Holy mother of God – isn’t she the girl that Declan is courting?” Bridie ferreted around in her cavernous handbag and found her glasses. Putting the milk-bottle lenses on, she inspected Gina with her enormous eyes.

“Well, your hair is too short but you’re an angel nonetheless,” Bridie trilled. “No wonder Declan’s dropped all his friends to spend time with you.”

“Has he?” Gina said in surprise. “I wondered why he’d never introduced me to any of them.”

“Well, I’ve warned him,” Mrs. Mac said. “He shouldn’t go dropping his friends just because some girl has caught his eye. You never know how long these romances are going to last.”

“But I’m not his girlfriend,” Gina said coyly. “We’re just good friends.”

“What?” Bridie said, outraged. “Well what’s wrong with you, girl? Isn’t our Declan good enough for you? I tell you, if I was forty years younger I’d court that young man myself.”

“Oh Bridie, that would still make you a child snatcher,” Mrs. Mac tutted. “Now leave the poor girl alone. To be honest, Gina, darling, it’s a relief to hear that you and Declan aren’t courting. I was starting to get a bit worried. You know where these things can lead and, in the absence of his parents, I’m in charge of his mortal soul. It’s a great responsibility,” she said solemnly.

Bridie cackled. Mrs. Mac scowled at her friend. “I’m glad you find it so amusing, Bridie. Thank God the poor boy hasn’t got you as his moral guardian. Now, Gina, I’m sorry to tell you that Declan isn’t in. He left about half an hour ago. I just assumed he’d be with you.”

“Oh,” Gina said, disappointed. “Well, I’ll get going then. It’s been lovely to meet you both.”

“And you,” Mrs. Mac said.

“Yes, angel, and if ever you need advice about matters of the heart, I’ll be glad to help,” Bridie piped up. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

“Or done!” Mrs. Mac said, her eyes fluttering in disapproval.

Gina headed for the park, determined to do a few laps even if it wasn’t going to be as much fun without Declan.

She’d just finished her fourth lap around the perimeter when she spotted a hooded boy on a bench. She peered at the figure. He certainly sat like Declan: one hand on each of his knees, back straight, broad shoulders pulled back.

I notice far too much about that boy,
Gina thought to herself.

But he had company – a rather unkempt man, who looked like he’d seen life, was sitting on the same bench and Declan seemed to be talking to him.

Maybe a homeless guy?
She smiled.
Typical Declan, he chats to everyone.

She jogged across to him, trying not to appear like a bounding puppy.

“Hi, Declan, I knew it was you!” she called out as she approached him.

Declan raised his head and the look of panic on his face was unmistakable.

“Wow,” Gina said playfully. “What are you up to? You look guilty as sin.”

“Nothing. No. I’m just surprised to see you.” He pulled at his hood nervously.

“Sorry if I’ve interrupted your chat,” she said politely to the unkempt man.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I was just catching up with my nephew.”

“Oh!” Gina couldn’t mask her surprise. “You’re Declan’s uncle?”

“Yeah. I’m his Uncle Stevie, and you are?”

“Gina.”

The man extended a hairy hand. “I’ve heard all about you! He can’t stop talking about you – isn’t that right, Declan?”

Gina tried to suppress a rush of joy. Declan shot Uncle Stevie a murderous look and the “uncle” put an arm around his “nephew”.

“Come on now, lad. Don’t be coy. Best to get things out in the open.” One of his bushy eyebrows seemed to wink at Gina. She didn’t know how to respond. “He’s a knock-out kid, isn’t he?” He tapped Dec’s cheek with his fist.

“Suppose so,” Gina answered, sensing the hostility oozing out of Declan.

“We’re as thick as thieves. Very close. Declan feels more like a son to me.” The man was clearly enjoying himself, while Declan seemed to be squirming.

“Really? Why have you never mentioned your uncle, Declan?” she asked.

Declan shrugged, his eyes cast to the ground. The man answered for him. “Maybe he’s ashamed of me.” He gave a rattling laugh.

Gina got the impression she was intruding on a private joke, which Declan didn’t find very funny. The palpable tension between the two was now making her feel uncomfortable.

“Well,” she said, after an awkward silence. “I’d better be off. I’ll see you soon then, Declan?”

Declan nodded, stony-faced.

Uncle Stevie gave a crocodile smile that exposed nicotine-stained teeth. “Try keeping him away.”