Oblivious (17 page)

‘What if everything you believed was far from the truth and what you strived for was just an illusion?’ Francis asked. Joe turned and looked her in the eye.

‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked. ‘I’m just saying,’ said Francis, ‘why would someone frame you for the murder of your wife and daughter just to see you go to prison and keep them locked up? This just all seems a bit elaborate.’ Joe sat silent, staring at the light shining through the rum bottle as it stood on the table. ‘I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I am scared that you will go in guns blazing without considering the possibilities of what might be.’ Francis said as she gently placed her hand on Joe’s lap.

‘Is there something I should know?’ asked Joe, ‘Did you find something else that you haven’t told me yet?’ Francis squeezed Joe’s knee to show her affection.

‘I went back to the dock today and saw that there are now more men guarding the building that I followed Gordy to. I was across the water trying to keep my distance when I saw some people turn up in a van. I didn’t see who it was but I could see them load something into the back of the van and drive off. I believe that whatever is there is some kind of illegal smuggling that is run from there. To be honest, I haven’t seen anything to indicate that’s where your family are and if they really are alive at all.’ Joe stood up as quickly as his leg and his alcohol infused mind would let him.

‘I can’t just do nothing.’ he said rubbing his brow. ‘Why would Gordy go to such great lengths just to set me up? What if the witnesses were paid off by Gordy in an elaborate frame-up to get me out of the picture? There has to be something I’m missing and I think Tom can tell me more.’ He paced around the back of the sofa in deep thought.

‘I think that’s a big risk going to see him,’ said Francis, turning to face him, ‘especially if Gordy has him tight by his side.’

‘I suppose they will be looking out for me,’ said Joe, ‘but they won’t be looking for you, Franny. You could go to Tom’s house and find out where they have Gina and Mary.’ Francis stood up and walked around the back of the sofa to Joe. She grabbed his hand and led him back to his seat.

‘If you stay here I will go to Tom and find out what I can. But for now,’ she said picking up the rum bottle, ‘we need to finish this and get some rest.’ She took a large mouthful of drink from the bottle and passed it to Joe. He placed the bottle against his lips and tipped his head back, finishing what was left.

‘It’s strong,’ Said Joe coughing as the rum ran down his throat, ‘but I suppose it will help me sleep.’

‘We are not in a fit state to be vigilantes tonight, Joe.’ Said Francis, ‘but tomorrow I will see what I can do as long as you promise to rest and get back to health.’ Joe bobbed his head from side-to-side as he tried fix his eyes on something that wasn’t blurry.

‘I will get better.’ He said, ‘But right now I feel like this rum is making me worse.’ He went to stand up and froze as his balance seemed to get away from him. Francis quickly stepped to his side and lifted his arm around her neck, supporting his weight.

‘Bed time, I think.’ She said as she ushered him towards the stairs. ‘One foot at a time and we’ll have you in bed in no time.’

Holding onto Joe’s waist and supporting him across her shoulder, Francis managed to get Joe to the top of the stairs and around the railing to his door. Turning the handle with her free hand, she stumbled to keep him upright. Leaning against the wall as they walked into his bedroom, she succeeded to get him to the bed and drop his lifeless body on the soft bedding. Francis realised that Joe became unconscious somewhere between the bottom of the stairs and the bedroom, this was why it seemed to get more difficult on the way up. She lifted his legs softly onto he bed, being careful not to aggravate his injury and pulled the blanket over to keep him comfortable.

‘Well, that was a good night.’ She said walking back towards the door, ‘I will help you, Joe. I promise.’ She closed the door behind her softly, leaving Joe to get a good sleep.

After what felt like the longest sleep he had ever experienced, Joe woke to what can only be described as an elephant playing basketball inside his head. Keeping his eyes shut from the sunlight burning through his bedroom window, he slipped his legs onto the floor and gently stood up. Forcing his eyes open, he looked down and could see he was still wearing the same clothes as the night before, including his shoes. He stumbled over to the door and pulled it open gently, even the small sound of the hinges creaking made him grimace as the noise echoed through his head. Slowly, he stepped across the landing and down the stairs, firmly holding onto the bannister with both hands all the way. Going through the dining room, Joe noticed the clock showing eleven-twenty. He was shocked at how much he had slept without so much as a worry running through his head.

The dishes were left in place in the dining room and kitchen from the night before, clearly Francis wasn’t up for tidying up after the evening’s drinking. Joe went to cupboard, took the largest glass he could find and filled it with water from the sink. Emptying the glass quicker than he filled it, he leant on the counter, trying to get his head clear. After what felt like several minutes, he drank more water and left the glass on the side next to the sink. Still limping from his injured leg, Joe went into the lounge and sat on the floor.

Joe took off his shirt and shoes and tossed them onto the sofa. He then shuffled himself forward, lay down gently onto his back and lifted his knees, keeping his feet flat on the floor. With a gasp of air, he sat up and pressed his chest against his knees, causing his stomach to tighten in pain. This didn’t deter Joe as he dropped slowly to the floor and sat back up again, with his arms either side of his head. One after another, he continued with the sit-ups until he physically couldn’t do more. He lay flat on his back to gather his breath before rolling over onto his stomach. Positioning his hands under his shoulders, he bent his knees and lifted his feet off the floor. Pushing with all his strength, he lifted his torso clean off the wood and locked his arms, extending them as far they would go. Holding his weight, he lowered himself as far as he could before pushing back up as high as possible. Repeating the push-ups whilst keeping his feet elevated, his rhythm got faster as the adrenalin pumped through his body. Eventually, with sweat from his face making a puddle underneath him, Joe collapsed hard to the floor.

Slowly, he got to his feet and walked precariously into the hallway. He took a glimpse of himself in a mirror and could see the tattoos across his torso looked out of place on his thin body. Joe ran his fingers across his markings as he stared at the shell of the person he once knew. Walking to the bottom of the stairs and with both hands firmly gripped on the railing, he hoisted himself up the first step. Making sure that he kept his footing as firm as he could, Joe pulled himself up another step, this time shifting his weight onto his damaged left leg. Wincing as the pain set in, he quickly lifted his right foot to the next step giving out a sigh of relief as the pressure was released. With adrenalin still pumping through his veins, he moved up each step, relying more on his legs than his iron grip on the railing. As he got to the last steps, Joe let go of the handrail and used just his feet and legs for support. He collapsed to his knees, breathing heavier and faster than when he started. Rolling onto his back, he couldn’t help letting out a laugh of joy as he looked up at the clean, white ceiling through the blur of his tear filled eyes.

Still smiling, Joe pushed his upper body off the floor and gently got to his feet, straining his newly worked muscles as he grabbed the railing for support. He walked back down the stairs, pushing his pain barrier as far as he could with each step, trying not the let any sense of feeling get in his way. Going back into the living room he grabbed his shirt and slipped it back on, fastening the buttons as he walked through the house to the kitchen.

Joe went to the fridge, took out a large plate of chicken pieces and placed it on the side. Grabbing a handful vegetables and large stock pot from the side, he emptied the plate into the container and turned on the stove on the giant oven. He thickly chopped the vegetables; put them all into the pot along with some water before placing it on the stove. Mixing the ingredients slowly, it wasn’t long before the water started to boil and Joe stirred it all with a large spoon, letting out the steam containing a delicious scent. He positioned a lid on top of the pot, resting it gently against the spoon that stayed inside and turned down the heat to allow the contents of the pot to fuse together.

On the kitchen counter beside the utensils was a stylish radio, neatly aligned against the wall, plugged into the socket by the cooker. Joe turned on the switch and tuned the radio into the first station he could find. As he increased the volume, the sound of classical music filled the air. Loud brass and wind instruments cried from the small speaker, causing Joe to uncontrollably move his head to the rhythm. He walked back into the living room and took off his shirt once more. Joe lay back on the floor and did several more sit-ups, pushing his physical barrier. Sweat dripped down his face and torso as he pumped his body harder and harder with each stretch. As the pain set in and he slowed, he turned to his front, pushing himself up and down, reaching as far as he could with every push-up. Joe repeated the cycle between sit-ups and push-ups several times, with the classical music urging him to go faster. Eventually the pain got the better of Joe and he collapsed face first onto the hardwood floor. Breathing heavily, all that Joe could hear was his own heartbeat pulsing in his body as the adrenalin surged through his veins. Regaining his breath, Joe went up to the bathroom and ran the shower. He sat on the toilet and slowly slipped off his trousers and tossed them onto the floor behind the bathroom door. Joe screamed in pain as he pressed the hard swollen parts of his stomach. He could see that the cancer had grown since the first time that Doctor Gable pointed out the inflammation in the prison infirmary. Putting his socks and underpants on the floor with the trousers he took the bandage from his leg and could see that the scar had started to heal and the swelling had reduced dramatically thanks to Francis’ gentle hand and medical knowhow.

Joe stepped into the shower and washed the sweat from his body, all the time thinking of what his next step would be. As the water ran down his face, he closed his eyes and remembered the happy times he had with his family, all the while being reminded of the situation he has ended up being in.

Still engaged in deep thought, Joe turned the shower off and stood staring at the water as it swirled down the plughole. He stepped precariously out of the bath and grabbed a towel from the railing. Rubbing his hair and face with the towel, he wrapped it around his waist and picked up his clothes from the floor. He walked out onto the landing to hear the front door being closed. Joe looked down and saw Francis taking her coat off.

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ he shouted as she placed her coat on the rack by the door.

‘Well,’ she said smiling as she looked up at him still dripping from the shower, ‘you seem a lot better today. And something smells good.’

‘I’ll just get dressed and I’ll be right down,’ Joe said, going back into his bedroom.

A short while later Joe went downstairs wearing a new shirt and saw Francis in the kitchen stirring the pot of stew.

‘You sit down,’ he said stepping in front of her and grabbing the spoon, ‘I wanted to show my appreciation for everything you’ve done for me.’ Francis smiled and stepped backwards.

‘At least let me set the table and get us some drinks,’ she said as she grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard.

‘Okay,’ replied Joe with a smile, ‘as long as it’s not that crazy shit you had me drinking yesterday.’

‘Don’t worry,’ laughed Francis as she walked into the dining room with the glasses, ‘it will just be wine tonight.’

Francis set the table in the dining room as Joe took two large bowls out of the cupboard. The meat had now fallen off the bone and the pot was filled with a rich stew, consisting of vegetable chunks and juicy pieces of chicken. Spooning out as much as he could, Joe filled each bowl and took them into the dining room. Francis was pouring white wine into each glass as he walked in and placed the bowls down.

‘I hope you like it,’ he said as he sat down next to her, ‘I haven’t cooked in a long time.’ Francis picked up her fork and pushed it into the soft, juicy chicken. Taking a small mouthful she swallowed it quickly as it didn’t require much chewing.

‘It’s delicious,’ she said placing her fork back on the table, ‘thank you.’

‘Why are you stopping?’ asked Joe as he ate his food quickly without taking a breath in between each mouthful.

‘I went back to the docks today but I was stopped by some guards before I could get close enough.’ Francis said reaching her hand across the table to Joe. Joe put his fork on the table and reached out to Francis.

‘I know you want to look out for me,’ he said as he gripped his fingers around her hand, ‘but I don’t want you to get into anything that will get you hurt, or worse. Please stay away from the docks and I will do what I need to. Now eat up, before it gets cold.’ Joe and Francis grabbed their forks once again and carried on eating, without any more words said between them. As they finished eating Francis picked up her glass of wine and took a small sip.

‘I’m scared that something will happen to you, Joe,’ she said placing her glass on the table.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Joe said reaching his hand out, ‘I will get my family and clear my name.’ Not knowing what to say, Francis stood up and took the empty bowls from the table. She took them into the kitchen and Joe heard her place them in the sink and turn the tap on.

‘You’re the only person I can trust right now,’ Joe shouted from the dining room, ‘but this is where the journey ends for you, Franny. I can’t trust that nothing is going to happen to you. This is my fight, not yours.’ Francis stepped to the kitchen door and leant against the frame.

‘I’m already in deep,’ she said folding her arms, ‘and I will help you any way I can. We have enough to go to the police with to clear your name.’ Joe stood up as quickly as he could and walked over to Francis. Placing his hands on her shoulders he made sure that she looked him in the eye.

‘Don’t go to the police,’ he said, ‘If anything they will lock you up as well. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Franny. When this is over you can forget about everything.’ Francis gently caressed Joe’s face with her hand.

‘I could never forget you, Joe.’

Francis turned away from Joe and wiped a tear from her face as she walked into the kitchen. She turned off the tap and started to clean the dishes as Joe brought in the empty wine glasses from the dining table.

‘I have a friend in the courthouse who may be able to help you,’ she said, ‘I am going to see if I can have a look at the records from your trial.’ Joe drank the last drop of wine from one of the glasses and placed it on the side.

‘I don’t think it was much of a trial,’ he said, ‘From what I can gather I was in and out of there so quick I didn’t even get to say anything. What is it going to prove?’ Francis rinsed the bowls and placed them on the side.

‘If anything,’ she said picking up a glass, ‘it should show that you weren’t well enough to stand trial and they didn’t give you a fair chance.’ Joe stood up and placed his hand on Francis’ shoulder.

‘I don’t want you to,’ he said as he rubbed his brow, ‘please.’ Before Francis could respond Joe collapsed to the floor like he’d been hit on the head.

‘Joe!’ Francis cried, quickly dropping to her knees besides his head, ‘what’s the matter?’ Joe lay lifeless on the floor, the only movement being his chest rising gently with each shallow breath. Francis rolled Joe onto his side and laid his head over her lap.

‘Please wake up,’ she cried leaning over his torso, ‘I want you to wake up.’ Joe moved softly and coughed as air quickly escaped his lungs. ‘Thank god!’ shouted Francis, ‘I thought I’d lost you.’ Still with his eyes closed, Joe turned himself away from Francis and tried to push himself up. She reached her arm around his waist and lifted his arm around her neck. Lifting him gently to his feet, Francis was able to usher his almost lifeless body to the sofa in the living room. She softly lowered him to the seat and raised his legs over the arm of the sofa. Joe quickly went back into an unconscious state, sweat pouring from his face onto the cushion. Francis pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and draped it gently over Joe, tucking him in like he was still a patient in her infirmary.