Читать книгу Hidden Sin: Part 2 of 3: When the past comes back to haunt you - Julie Shaw, Julie Shaw - Страница 6

Joey climbed down the ladder he had only just climbed up. ‘Bloody typical,’ he huffed as he finally reached the ground. Heavy raindrops were already soaking into his T-shirt, and he knew there was little point in carrying on.

Not that he hadn’t had due warning. In what had seemed like no time – no more than half an hour, tops – the sky had turned from brilliant blue to grey and then to charcoal, as a mass of hefty storm clouds had rumbled across the horizon, effectively putting paid to his plans – not to mention his earnings – for the day. How could the weather change so bloody quickly?

He could hear his dad’s voice in his ear then, because he’d heard it so often. That’s what it’s like in this job, son. So you’d better get used to it.

But had he? He went round the ladder and rapped on the door of number 26, and waited for the lad inside to shuffle out.

‘Tell your mam I’ll be back later in the week to finish off the front,’ he told the boy. ‘No point doing it in this, is there? I’d just be taking her money off her for fuck-all.’

The lad was mixed-race, like he was, around fourteen or so. He held up his hand to reveal a fiver and grinned before stuffing it decisively into his inside parka pocket. ‘Nice one,’ he said, giving Joey a satisfied smile. ‘Gives me a couple of days to earn this back then, doesn’t it?’

Joey laughed. ‘That’s my bloody wages, that is, you little toerag. Well,’ he added, as he began to collapse his ladder. ‘On your own head be it. If she kills you, she kills you.’

He was just about to add that he at least admired the boy’s sense of enterprise, when he felt a buzzing starting up in his jeans pocket. Managing not to jump – the bloody pager surprised him every single time – he puffed out his chest as he produced it. ‘You’ll have to excuse me a minute, mate,’ he said, noting the kid’s look of awe. ‘I’ve got to be off now. Got to get hold of my business manager.’

‘Fucking hell,’ the lad said. ‘Didn’t realise window men even had business managers.’ He hoicked a thumb up and jabbed it over his shoulder. ‘You can use our phone if you want. Mam’s out shopping but I know the pin code.’ Joey smiled. Impressed by the pager, the lad was clearly keen to impress as well. ‘Always uses my birthday, she does, the dozy cow.’

Joey pondered for all of five seconds. The lad’s mam wouldn’t mind – she was one of his regulars. And if Mo was trying to contact him this early in the day, it was odds-on that it would be something important.

He followed the boy into the stuffy interior, then stood and watched as he broke his mother’s code to use the phone.

‘Cheers, kid. You’ll go far,’ he said, as he took the receiver and punched out the numbers, turning his back slightly so the lad couldn’t see them. Not that he was paranoid, exactly, but neither was he careless, and Mo had told him it was confidential.

‘Where are you, lad?’ Mo asked as soon as the line connected.

‘At work. Well, I was,’ he said. ‘Fucking rain’s put paid to that now.’

‘Good,’ said Mo. ‘Good.’

‘Well, I’m not sure about that, Mo. It’s –’

‘So you’re free?’

‘Well, I suppose so.’

‘And your Paula’s not with you?’

‘Nah, she’s at work, she’s –’

‘Good. I’ll send Billy round to you then.’

‘Billy?’

‘Big Billy. To bring you over to mine.’

Joey was struggling to keep up. ‘What, to the club?’

‘No, to the house.’

‘But I’ve got my cart and that,’ Joey pointed out. ‘I’ll have to take that home first –’

‘Twenty minutes then? Let me see. At The Bull car park? Yes, that’ll work. He’ll see you there.’

‘But –’ Joey began.

‘Nothing to worry about, son,’ Mo said. ‘I just need a word.’

The line clicked to end the call before he could answer.

Joey had been home two days. Paula had made him. So he could wake up at home on his birthday, which she’d insisted was important. He smiled at the memory of his first birthday present, too, because Paula had stayed over as well. And he’d been glad that his mam and dad had had a bit to drink that evening, because she wasn’t that good at keeping quiet about giving him his present, either; she’d been giggling and larking about like a bloody schoolgirl. Who knew sex could be so funny? But it was. And he’d jammed a pillow down the back of the headboard for good measure.

She’d bought him a beautiful pair of drumsticks with his name engraved on them, and a posh brand of aftershave, and a denim shirt. And Nicky had slipped him a surprising twenty quid – which Joey knew he couldn’t afford – and had been all wet-eyed and soppy and embarrassing about it too. He didn’t quite get his uncle Nicky now he was properly getting to know him – half the time he was this ex-con hard man, who nobody would dare mess with, and the other half as emotional as fuck.

His mam had even baked him a birthday cake. Chocolate, three layers, the full eighteen candles. ‘Got up early specially,’ she’d told him, ‘while you were both fast asleep in bed.’ Which had made him and Paula blush to their hair roots.

And bit by bit they’d arrived at a strained kind of truce. Nothing said. Well, bar his mam saying sorry for slapping him and him apologising for what he’d said. Least said soonest mended. Done and dusted. Forgotten. And it was okay. Not quite normal, but okay.

Still, given where he was going now, he didn’t want to face her – or his dad or uncle, for that matter – so, just in case they were in (he wasn’t sure what shifts they were working, he could never keep track) he took the cart round the back way, where it was unlikely they’d see him, and wheeled it behind the shed before walking down to The Bull.

Big Billy was already there, revving up Mo’s black BMW, one pudgy pink arm – it was almost like a leg of lamb, Joey thought – hanging from the open window. Seeing Joey, he raised it in greeting.

‘What’s the emergency then?’ Joey asked as he slid into the embrace of the smooth leather passenger seat.

Billy shrugged. ‘Fucked if I know, lad,’ he said. ‘I’m like the three wise monkeys’ dumb cousin, me – hear fuck-all, see fuck-all and say fuck-all.’ He laughed loudly at his own joke as he pulled out of the car park. ‘I’m just the hired muscle, mate. No good asking me owt.’

So Joey didn’t. He was happy enough to listen to the radio anyway, and just enjoy the sensation of being driven around Bradford by a hired driver, in a top-of-the-range Beema. Though, were it his, he’d be the one behind the wheel. And it wouldn’t be a BMW, it would be a Jaguar. Though he couldn’t help wondering about his unexpected summons. And to the house rather than the club. Alone. Why?

It was no more than fifteen minutes before Billy pulled up at the gates to Mo’s mansion, which looked no less imposing than when he’d been there before. More, even, on account of him not feeling quite prepared. He wished he’d nipped inside and changed into a different pair of jeans – his were still slightly damp, and a small mark on the thigh that he’d only just noticed made him feel slightly anxious and scruffy. He can take me as he finds me, he told himself sternly as he climbed out, echoing another of his dad’s endless sermons.

‘You can walk up from here,’ Billy said, ‘while I fuck off and play with the car for a bit. I’ll see you when I see you.’ He then must have pressed something – or Mo had, from inside the house – because the gates began parting to admit him.

Just like the previous time Joey had come here, Mo was already standing on the doorstep, only this time he was dressed in normal clothes. Well, normal for Mo – which was a world away from normal for Joey. A dark grey suit – had he come from, or was he heading to, a meeting? – and a brilliant white shirt to match his teeth.

His dreads were tied back, and a pair of shades was stuck into them.

He pulled them out and donned them as Joey began taking off his trainers; placing his left foot behind his right so he could wriggle the first foot out. ‘Don’t worry about that, son,’ Mo told him, touching his arm. ‘Just wipe them. This isn’t Buckingham Palace – just my home.’

It seemed an odd thing to say. But then this felt like an odd encounter. Joey didn’t know why, exactly, but it felt so even so. He wiped his feet on the coir doormat, then followed Mo over the threshold, where he wiped his feet on the inside doormat as well.

This time, he followed Mo into the vast chrome and granite fitted kitchen – which, even more than last time, looked like somewhere no one actually did any cooking. Had Mo’s ‘girl’, Marika, just been? But then he reflected that Mo probably didn’t spend much time here. Living alone, in this vast place, must be a very different business than in the overcrowded terrace he shared with his mam and dad, and now Nicky. He wondered if Mo ever felt lonely.

He felt glad, then, that Paula had persuaded him to go home. As his dad had said gently to him only yesterday, he’d punished his mam enough.

‘Take a seat, boy,’ Mo said, pointing to a black leather bar stool – one of four that were arranged around a freestanding breakfast bar. ‘It’s called an Island,’ Paula had whispered to him the last time. ‘You want some coffee?’ Mo asked him, nodding in the direction of a complicated machine that stood hissing on the adjacent worktop.

Joey climbed up onto the nearest stool, careful not to place his hands on the pristine and fingerprint-free granite.

Joey had already smelled the coffee, and he nodded a yes. Wake up and smell the coffee, he thought to himself. Well, he was certainly doing that right now. He drank in the aroma. Proper coffee, too. He couldn’t wait to tell Paula. And with the thought came a memory that he held very dear. Of Paula saying, when she’d stayed over, the night he’d gone back, that when they got their own place, the first thing they would do would be to buy a proper percolator. How did that happen? How’d you get from going out a couple of times to planning to live together in so short a time? It was as unexpected as it was exhilarating, but it was infinitely more exhilarating. Was that how it worked? That when you knew, you just knew?

After some ceremony – elegant cups in matching saucers, a fancy cream jug, tiny teaspoons – Mo finally handed Joey his coffee and sat down opposite him.

‘This is the life,’ Joey said, because the occasion seemed to call for it. ‘I tell you what, if me and my Paula ever make it big, we’re going to have a place just like this too.’ He felt himself redden under Mo’s benign scrutiny. ‘“If” being very much the operative word,’ he added quickly.

Mo, who’d taken a delicate first sip, set down his cup and shook his head. ‘Don’t use the word “if”, boy,’ he said. ‘That’s just setting yourself up to fail. Use the word “when”, always. Say “when” you make it big. And even if that isn’t what you’re doing right now – yet – always intend on making it big. Always.’

Joey grinned. ‘Is that what you brought me here for, Mo? A pep talk?’ Then cursed himself for his boldness because it seemed to displease Mo, who stood up abruptly, and went to the window, where he stared silently out across the vast expanse of garden. Or at least that was what it looked like; he could be staring into space. He had his hands in his trouser pockets and Joey could see the tense way in which he was holding himself.

Joey picked up his own cup – the handles were so small it was a job getting his finger into the hole – and wondered if Mo was about to let him go. Or tell him things at the club weren’t working out. Something bad, anyway. The little speech – and the way Mo had said it – had felt altogether like the sort of thing you’d say when you were about to let someone down.

‘What is it, Mo? Did we do something wrong?’ Joey asked finally, the sound of silence getting altogether too loud. ‘Are things still alright down at the club?’

He braced, waiting to hear that everything had gone tits up before he’d even got started. He hadn’t forgotten how many clubs had been set up and closed down before this one. Oh, how his mum would bloody crow.

Mo shook his head and turned around, then crossed one ankle over the other, leaning back against the run of kitchen units. His shoes were as brightly polished as the worktops. Did he look like things were going tits up? No.

He sighed. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, boy, okay? So I’m just gonna say it.’

‘Say what?’ Joey asked him. ‘You’re fucking scaring me now, Mo.’

Mo’s teeth flashed white as he returned from his vigil at the window. He sat down again. ‘You’re my boy, Joey,’ he said. Then nothing more.

Again came that sense that Mo was setting him up for a disappointment. ‘Yeah, I know that,’ Joey said. ‘Course I do. I know you have my back.’

‘No, Joey,’ Mo said. ‘I mean that I’m your father.’

When he recounted it later, to Paula, as he obviously would, Joey knew he would struggle to find words to describe it – that ‘what the fuck?’ moment when he thought Mo was kidding, then the thump in his chest and, as the blood flowed in his temples, a sensation of falling – of almost spinning out – when, no more than half a second later (it was almost instantaneous), he knew without question that Mo was not kidding at all.

And perhaps he had disappeared somewhere, even as he was rooted to the spot.

‘Joey.’ Mo’s voice was sharp. ‘Joey, are you hearing what I’m saying? I’m your father. You’re my son.’

Joey grabbed the slab of granite now, making claw marks instead of fingerprints, entirely clueless as to how he should process what he was being told. What exactly did you do with that kind of information anyway? What did it mean? What did it change? He pulled Mo back into focus, seeing him anew. Seeing him as a man he barely knew. And was his father. It changed every fucking thing.

‘Look, boy,’ Mo said, reaching out a manicured hand towards him but not touching him. ‘I’m not out to make trouble. I’m not out to make a cunt out of you, okay? I just wanted you to know. So you know. So you see where I’m coming from. Fuck, boy, I knew the very minute I first clocked you. Someone told me you were Christine’s and it was, like, whap!’ He clicked his fingers. ‘I’d have known even if they hadn’t. I’d have worked it out.’

Joey felt a sudden welling of emotion that he couldn’t put a name to. Just everything, he decided, just the whole fucking bigness of it all. He searched Mo’s face – not for meaning; Mo’s meaning couldn’t have been plainer – but for points of physical similarity; for landmarks he could recognise in the handsome, leonine face. Features that could be singled out and ticked off and counted. The same jawline, the same eyes, the same fucking smile, even. Why the fuck had he not noticed any of this before?

Oh, you are so your mother’s son! People said that to him often. Had done so all his life – oh, you’re the spit of your mam, Joey! Such a Parker! And all this despite the one glaring bloody fact that no Parker alive had ever had brown skin and a head of wayward curls. Despite? Or because of? That point hit him hard now. Just how hard everyone worked to try and help him forget the stark reality that he wasn’t just a Parker – he was something else too.

He was Mo’s. He shared half of his genes.

‘You need some time,’ Mo said, clearly interpreting his racing thoughts. ‘I get that, and I’m sorry to just lay it all on you like this. It’s a lot to swallow. But it’s a fact, and you needed to know the truth.’

Truth. Joey found himself jolted into a completely different mindset. Truth. And its opposite – lies. The lie he’d lived with all his life, more specifically.

The questions teeming in his mind became more and more urgent. ‘Why?’ Joey asked Mo, the polite coffee break now forgotten. ‘Why now? Why not fucking years ago?’ He paused, but not for long. ‘Why not back when I was a kid and didn’t know why my dad didn’t want me? Had disowned me. Why my mam wouldn’t tell me. Why I had a step-dad but –’ Another thought hit him hard. ‘Does my dad even know about this?’

Mo nodded. ‘Yes, he does. He’s always known, Joey. And listen’ – he raised his hands, the gold of his rings glinting – ‘I have no intention – none, okay – of trying to step in and mug Brian off. He’s always been your dad, and from what I’ve seen so far, it seems like he’s made a great job of it, too. No matter about our past.’ What past? Joey filed the thought away. ‘I have respect for him for that. Big respect,’ Mo continued. ‘And, you know, you and me are both men now; we don’t need to have that kind of relationship. Just a kinship. If that’s what you want, of course. You might not. And in answer to your question, I never thought I’d see you again, and that’s the truth of it. And I can’t make up for all those years. Fuck me – I’d never attempt to even try. I just hoped – and I still hope – that once we became friends, we might stay that way, you know? Which is why I had to tell you the truth. Friends don’t lie to each other, do they? I didn’t want to deceive you for any longer than I had to.’