Blood Tracks (19 page)

“What? Why?” Tom sounded alarmed.

“She’s just determined for Declan to dig up something dodgy about you, about the business, any excuse to get rid of you.”

“And what’s the little toerag come up with?” His voice had stiffened.

Clare immediately regretted mentioning it. She didn’t want to get Declan into trouble. He was a good lad really, even if he did have an overactive imagination. She suddenly felt the need to protect him.

“Oh, forget it, Tom. Declan hasn’t said anything,” she lied. “I think the poor lad’s been caught in the middle. I know he loves working for you, but he’d also do anything to make Gina happy.”

“So, he’s been digging for dirt and come up with nothing?”

Clare heard the anger in Tom’s voice.

“Yes, nothing,” she said emphatically.

“I’ve got a good mind to sack him! Is this how he repays me for giving him a job?”

“Please, Tom, don’t do that. He’s just a teenager trying to impress a girl. Despite this, Declan’s good for her. She’s been so much better since she met him, and healthier – she’s eating properly again and she’s stopped touching the urn every time she comes into the room.”

“Yeah, but that’s thanks to me,” Tom boasted.

“Maybe, but one thing’s for sure, Declan makes her happy, so
promise me
you won’t sack him.”

There was a long pause.

“Promise, Tom!” Clare said earnestly.

“Okay, anything for you.”

“And you won’t hold a grudge against the boy, will you?” she asked nervously.

“No, of course not. I’ve forgotten about it already,” he answered with an icy breeziness.

Henri Sissouma had hardly paused for breath and they were already onto dessert. He’d spent the last hour and a half quaffing numerous glasses of champagne and regaling Kylie with details of his many assets.

His London apartment overlooked the Thames; his Italian leather sofas were the best money could buy; his home cinema system was the same one all top Hollywood stars insisted on having; and he invited Kylie to feel his biceps as testament to the quality of the gym in his spare room.

Kylie shovelled in another spoonful of tiramisu in order to stifle a yawn. The string quartet struck up again in the corner of the candlelit room.

Kylie tried to interrupt his flow. “This is a lovely restaurant, very classy. My last date took me to Pizza Hut.”

Henri Sissouma tutted. His chunky rings clinked against the champagne bottle as he refilled her glass. “How dare he? A woman of your refinement deserves the finer things in life, Karen.”

“Oh, you’ve done it again.” She wagged a manicured nail at him. “It’s Kylie, not Karen.”

“Of course, forgive me. Such a beautiful name, how could I forget it?”

“So, Henri,” she said, deciding it was time to make her move, “I’ve heard all about your fast car and your swish apartment but what you haven’t told me is what you do. You must have a great job. What are you? One of those entrepreneurs?”

He nodded approvingly. “As people say here, I have my fingers in lots of pies. I manage the business concerns in this country for a very wealthy and important man back home in the Côte d’Ivoire.”

“And you do business with Tom?”

“Yes, we’ve been doing business together for a number of years.”

“So, you deal in cocoa beans? Of course you do, our shipments are from the Ivory Coast.”

The big man threw his head back, letting out a booming laugh that strained the buttons on his waistcoat. “My dear Karen, my boss doesn’t supply beans.”

“Oh,” she said, stifling her annoyance. “What does he supply, then?”

“I don’t wish to talk about business when I have such beautiful company.” He reached across the table and took her hand.

“Henri,” Kylie said, giving him her sweetest smile, “I bet a man as impressive as you supplies something very special.” She placed her other hand on top of his.

There was a twinkle in his champagne-blurred eyes as he replied, “Let me just say this; the chocolate made from the cocoa bean is said to induce a feeling of great happiness. Well, what my boss supplies also induces great happiness but it costs much, much more.”

Kylie slapped his hand, playfully. “Henri, stop talking in riddles and tell me what it is.”

“I’ve said too much already,
ma petite cherie
.”

“Oh, go on,” Kylie pouted. “I’m intrigued.”

He smiled broadly and beckoned her to him. Kylie leaned across the table and Henri Sissouma whispered in her ear, his voice deadly serious. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Kylie shot away from him, but her shocked expression only made Henri Sissouma roar with laughter.

“Oh forgive me,” he spluttered, patting tears of laughter from his cheeks. “I am joking, of course, but the business between myself and Mr. Cotter is a private matter, you do understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” she said through gritted teeth.

Henri Sissouma pulled the chain of his gold fob watch, lifting it out of his waistcoat pocket. He flicked open the cover and tried to focus on telling the time.

“It’s getting late, Karen, and I’m staying in a lovely hotel. I have a suite with a balcony. Would you like to come and see the view?”

Kylie rose from her chair, scraping it across the marble floor. “Sorry, Henri, but I make a rule of only going back to hotel rooms with men who can remember my name. Thanks for dinner though.” With that, Kylie flounced out of the restaurant, leaving Henri Sissouma open-mouthed.

Danny bounced up and down, the wind whipping him into a frenzy.

“After three,” Danny shouted, his eyes wild. “One, two, three – GO!”

Danny, Gina and Declan took a running jump off the top of the towering sand dune. Declan flew through the air, landing on the beach, Gina collapsed in a heap at the foot of the dune and Danny remained near the top, entangled in the tall spiky grass that bound together the shifting sands with its roots.

“That’s not fair. You two have got longer legs than me,” Danny called out indignantly.

Declan scrambled back up the sliding sand and released him.

“Let’s get you to the bottom,” Declan said, rolling the boy down the hill.

Danny reached the beach, spitting sand out of his mouth. “Brilliant!” he said giddily. “Do it again!”

“Leave Declan alone and go and chase some sticks or something,” Gina said.

“Just because you want to be alone so you can snog him,” Danny sang.

Gina lunged at her brother. Danny sprang up and ran off along the massive expanse of beach. He held the ends of his coat out behind him, hoping that the fierce wind would lift him up like a human kite.

Gina shook her head in protest. “Ignore him. Danny’s off his head. You do know that I’m
so
over that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” Declan muttered.

They walked along the beach, the wind blowing away the grime of the city.

“Why do you think Tom invited me today?” Declan asked.

Gina shrugged. “I suppose he’s just trying to get in with me. He probably thinks I’d want you here. He’s desperate to play happy families with us and Mum is letting him; she won’t listen to me.”

“What do you mean? You haven’t told her anything, have you?” Declan sounded worried.

Gina clammed up. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her confession to Mum. She knew he’d never trust her again if she did.

“No!” Gina said, as if she was insulted by his question. “Anyway, do you still think it’s drugs?”

“Well, what was it Sissouma told Kylie? ‘It induces great happiness but costs much, much more.’ Doesn’t that sound like drugs to you? He’s talking about getting high.”

“Kylie reckons Sissouma’s full of bull and she doesn’t think Tom would be involved in drug trafficking.”

“Well then he must be making a fortune from cocoa beans. Just look where he lives. Must feel like he’s on holiday all the time here,” Declan mused.

Gina knew what Declan meant. When stepping out of Tom’s luxurious home they were greeted by alpine-scented woods, not the grey narrow streets outside their own houses. And a short walk through the trees brought them to these undulating sand dunes with views from the top that laid the whole horizon bare. The massive expanse of sand, the foaming waves crashing onto the shore, the huge skies, with the dazzling sun playing hide and seek behind the racing clouds. This place had always seemed to Gina like a different world from her neighbourhood, with its harsh docks, diesel-filled air and constant cacophony.

“If he takes us back to his house again we might get a chance to look around,” Gina said.

“I wouldn’t count on it. I felt his eyes on me all the time. Even when I went to the loo I found him loitering outside.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Gina said uneasily.

“Hey, you two!” Tom’s voiced boomed behind them. “Keep walking straight on. We’re heading to the marina. I want to show Declan something.”

Declan pulled a face. “What’s that about?” he asked Gina.

“Don’t know,” she replied, turning round and scowling as she saw her mum and Tom strolling shoulder to shoulder along the beach.

“It’s wonderful here, Tom,” Clare said, inhaling the sea air. “Look at Danny – he’s in his element.” She pointed to him, flapping his arms and running around in the distance.

“You need to come here more often; a lot more often,” Tom said. “I’m rattling around in that big house. It gets lonely. You and the kids should stay over at weekends. Danny could learn how to surf, Gina could run for miles along the beach instead of that stinking canal, and you…well, there’s a lovely spa down the road, I could book you treatments. You deserve to be pampered for once.”

Clare gave a bittersweet smile. “You make everything sound so tempting. I wish things were as straightforward as that.”

“Don’t worry, Gina won’t be like this for ever. We’ll get her better,” Tom said, rubbing her arm comfortingly.

They all reached the marina and stood on the jetty, where Tom’s Mirror dinghy was tethered. The steely grey water was jumping up at them and slapping against the jetty’s wooden slats.

“I thought you might fancy a quick sail,” Tom said to Declan, holding the mooring rope in an effort to steady the rocking boat. “In you go.”

“You’re joking, aren’t you? It’s a bit rough out there,” Declan said.

“Perfect sailing conditions,” Tom chirped.

“Thanks for the offer, Mr. Cotter, but I’m not much of a sailor. The ferry over to Ireland is the extent of my seafaring experience.”

“Well, then, that settles it. You definitely need a lesson.” Tom gripped Declan’s arm and pushed him down into the bobbing boat.

Gina saw the look of trepidation on Declan’s face. “Can I come too?” she asked hurriedly.

“Yes,” Declan said relieved, reaching up and taking her hand, but Tom pulled them apart.

“Sorry, but there’s only room in the boat for two. Let Declan learn the ropes, we don’t want him distracted by you, Gina.”

“Go on, Declan, don’t be a baby.” Danny grinned.

Tom stepped down into the boat and told Danny to untie the rope.

“Where are the life jackets?” Gina asked.

“Under the seat,” Tom answered.

“Then put them on,” she demanded.

“And don’t stay out too long. It looks wild out there,” her mum added.

“Stop fussing. Anyone would think we were off on a round-the-world voyage,” Tom laughed.

Gina, Clare and Danny watched from the jetty as the fragile-looking boat grew smaller and smaller. Even in the distance they could still see that the turbulent waters were tossing the little boat around.

Inside the dinghy, Declan’s face had turned a sickly shade of green. He reached underneath for the yellow life jacket.

“Don’t bother with those,” Tom said with a sly smile. “They’re useless; punctured. I’ve been meaning to replace them for weeks.”

Declan looked petrified, gripping onto the side of the boat with white knuckles.

Tom laughed, slapping the boy hard on the shoulder. “Come on, shipmate, this is meant to be a sailing lesson. Get the jib up.”

“What the hell is the jib?” Declan whimpered, feeling his stomach heave.

“Here.” Tom handed him ropes. “Get the sail up. I’ll stay at the helm and sort the mainsail.”

Declan regretted pulling the ropes. As soon as the wind caught the red sails the boat was propelled forward as if someone had lit the fuse on a rocket.

“Lovely work.” Tom grinned, delighting in the boy’s discomfort. “Now we tack.”

Without warning, Tom slackened the ropes and the boom swung across the boat, skimming Declan’s hair. “Move to the other side of the boat, quickly!” Tom ordered as Declan floundered in the middle in confusion. The boat rocked and rolled. Tom grabbed him by his hoodie and plonked him down on the bench next to him.

“That thing could have knocked me out,” Declan protested, pointing to the boom.

“You have to be quick on your feet. When I say ‘move’ you shift to the opposite side asap, do you understand?”

“Listen, Mr. Cotter, this is really nice of you but I’m better on dry land. Can we go back now?”

“No, you’ll soon get the hang of it. Look how we’re powered up. Isn’t it exhilarating?”

Declan didn’t answer. His head was hanging over the side of the boat, the contents of his stomach emptying into the waters.

“Ready for another one?” Tom said, releasing the boom again. “Hike out!” he shouted to the dribbling young man as he nimbly ducked and stepped to the opposite side, leaning, straight-backed, over the side of the boat. The sails billowed, the boat changed direction sharply and Declan clung onto the seat opposite for dear life. Tom slid his feet into the toe straps screwed to the deck and chose his moment carefully. He waited until Declan had struggled onto the bench, then he leaned in and eased the ropes, taking the wind out of the sail. This caused the dinghy to list so violently on Declan’s side that it catapulted him out of the boat, heels over head, into the wild waters. Tom worked quickly to rectify the vessel. His eyes scanned the churning waters, but there was no sign of the young man.

Declan was lost under the dark, paralyzing water. The shock of the cold felt like a vice around his chest. He was so disorientated that his brain couldn’t work out whether he was thrashing up to the surface or down to the depths. He tried to open his eyes, but the stinging saltwater forced them shut. The longer it took to see daylight the more he was panicking. He found himself praying, something he hadn’t done for years, despite his mum’s best efforts.

Please, God, get me out of here. Please let me be heading in the right direction. I’ll try and be good. I’ll start going to Mass again, I promise.

The tension fell from Tom’s face as he saw the hand appear above the water, quickly followed by Declan’s head, his mouth open and gasping. Declan was frantically treading water as the sea tossed him about.

He spluttered, waiting for Tom to sail towards him, but instead he watched in disbelief as Tom started to circle the boat around him like a shark eyeing up a shipwrecked sailor.

Declan strained to wave with one arm, battling against the water with the other to keep him afloat.

Gina narrowed her eyes. What was going on out there? They were too far to be sure but, from the jetty, it looked like the boat was circling. She thought she could only see one figure on the dinghy. What had happened? Was one of them lying on the deck? Had one of them fallen overboard?

“Get me out of here,” Declan spluttered through chattering teeth.

“Don’t be so impatient. A few more minutes will clear the cobwebs away.”

“I’m freezing…please!”

“Have you been spying on me, Declan?” Tom shouted to him.

Declan felt like his heart had stopped pumping.

Oh my God, what does he know? What do I say?

The boat continued to circle the flailing boy.

“NO!” Declan called.

“What have you seen at the warehouse? Come on, Declan. I’m dying to know.”

“Nothing, I don’t know what you’re on about,” he said breathlessly.

“Clare says you’ve been spying for Gina. Trying to dig up some dirt on me,” Tom shouted.

Declan’s frozen mind crunched into action. He’d been given a lifeline. How could he use it?

“No…well yes…but not really,” he spluttered, the saltwater slapping his face. “I…I…I told Gina I’d keep an eye out but I haven’t been and I haven’t seen anything, honest.”

“But you
have
been spying, Declan. You’re always taking an unhealthy interest in my business.”

“Yeah…but not because I’m s-s-spying,” he chattered through blue lips. “I…I want to learn the business. I like it, I think I could be good at it.”

“So you want to import cocoa beans for a living?” Tom sneered, unconvinced.

“I…I…want to be rich, like you. That’s all, Mr. Cotter. I just want to be like you.” He gulped in the biting air, unable to catch his breath.

Tom’s eyebrows arched in amusement. “Well, it seems I have a fan. I like the idea of that. What do you want to be, Declan? A mini-me? I hope you’re not going to turn into a stalker, are you?” he laughed.

Another wave engulfed Declan, crashing over his head.

He bobbed up again. “P-p-please, Mr. Cotter, get me out of here. I can’t feel my legs, I’m sinking,” he pleaded.

Tom steered the dinghy towards the floundering boy. Declan grabbed the side, clinging on like a limpet. Tom looked down at him.

“I’m a very private person, Declan. I don’t like anyone knowing my business. And I don’t like you trying to dig up dirt on me in the hope of getting into Gina’s knickers. Do you understand?”

Declan nodded, his face quivering.

Tom reached over, took hold of the waterlogged hoodie and pulled Declan into the boat like a fisherman hauling in a catch. Declan lay, coughing and shaking, on the wooden floor. Tom calmly took the helm, heading for shore.

“Let’s get you back and out of those wet things before you catch your death.” He smiled benevolently.

“But…but you could have drowned me.” Declan stared up at Tom in shocked anger.

“What are you on about?” Tom said darkly. “It was your own fault that you fell out of the boat. You didn’t listen to my instructions. You’re not used to sailing.” He glared at the boy, daring him to disagree.

Declan sat up and wrapped his arms around his trembling body. “You did it on purpose,” he whispered into his knees.

Tom pointed. “Can you see them waiting anxiously on the jetty? You’ve given them a real scare.”

Declan looked over at the figures; Gina was jumping up and down, waving frantically at the boat, her shouts lost on the wind.

“I look forward to hearing you telling them how it happened, okay?”