Crystals
Authors: Theresa L. Henry
Crystals
By
Theresa L. Henry
Text copyright © 2015 Theresa L. Henry
All Rights Reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved
above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored or shared in any form,
including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording,
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without prior written permission from the author and copyright holder;
excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. References
may be made
to locations and historical events. However,
names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s
imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living
or dead, business events or locales
is either used
fictitiously or coincidentally. All trademarks, service marks, registered
trademark, and registered service marks are the property of their respective
owners and
are used
herein for identification purposes
only.
Adult Content: Contains sexually explicit scenes,
violence and adult language. This book is for sale to adults only. Please store
your files responsibly, where they will not be accessible to under-aged readers.
Published by: Theresa L. Henry
This was the six year old child’s first visit to
Ireland. He had never met the frail old man lying in the bed before. What he
encountered that day, for many reasons would remain with him for a lifetime.
His mother’s hand
at her grandfather’s back eased him into a sitting position. When he was
comfortable, the wizened man beckoned him closer.
Unaware of how it
happened, he was standing beside a bed that wouldn’t have been out of place in
another century. It was grand in a rustic way and the ornamental work caught
and held his attention.
“Boy!”
The child heard
the voice and turned his gaze towards the wrinkled old man, but showed no sign
of being startled.
“I like this one,
Molly girl!”
“He’s my best one,
Da.”
“I can see that.
It’s there in the way he’s looking at me,” the old man replied as his piercing
gold eyes pinned the boy with his gaze. “Do you know who I am, boy?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Continue to
be a man of few words. Let your actions speak for themselves. Those men with
endless chatter are more often than not hiding something. Remember to always
look for the hidden meaning in all others say to you...”
The boy’s head
fell to one side as he studied the old man whose words had trailed off into
silence.
“Is he dead, Mum?”
“Not yet, boy,”
the man answered for his granddaughter. “What do you like to do, boy?”
“My name isn’t
boy!”
“Got a temper,
doesn’t he, Molly girl,” the old man laughed before a hacking cough interrupted
his humor.
His mother moved
him out of the way. With tears running down her cheeks, she sat on the end of
the bed and held her grandfather’s hand.
The child had
never seen his mother cry and his young mind attempted to work out whether he
should pull her away from the old man. His mother had told him the reason for
their trip to Ireland was to see her dying grandfather. He wasn’t entirely sure
he understood what dying meant, but even so, he didn’t like seeing her in
distress.
“I missed you,
Molly girl. Sorry, I was when me daughter died and your father took you away to
England. Glad I am that you came back to see this old man.”
“I’m sorry, Da. I
should have come before.”
“You know I don’t
hold with that type of thing, girl. You’re here now because this is the time
you
were meant
to come. That I’ve lived to see you
again after all these years is all these old eyes have longed for.”
The child watched
them in silence as he patted his mother’s back in an innocent display of
comfort.
“Take care of your
Mammy, you hear me, boy?!”
“Yes.”
His mother
continued to cry as her grandfather closed his eyes. The lad saw and felt their
deep bond. To date, this type of emotional display had never been a part of his
young life. Although he didn’t fully understand their connection, he knew he
wanted to experience the warmth that seemed to encapsulate them. And he knew
some day he would.
Memories have a way of pulling one in. Sometimes with
pleasant recollections and others with disquieting thoughts. Today, Shane Tierney
was in a good place. His plans for the future were coming to fruition and he
was accomplishing them in his own way.
Shane was a loner.
He didn’t easily give his trust to others. His philosophy was simple. Trust no
one and he wouldn’t get hurt. Get close to no one and their loss wouldn’t
impact on his life.
His family was
from the East End of London, by way of Ireland and his father and older brother
were hard men. He had grown up seeing and hearing things no child had a right
to. By the time he was thirteen, he had visited his father in prison so many
times he’d lost count. It seemed to him, his father was determined to spend his
life behind bars. His older brother, Connor, eleven years his senior was
following in their father’s footsteps.
There was no
getting away from it, his father and brother were hardened criminals. Yet to
Shane’s mind, they really should have found another occupation as they were
both too incompetent for that way of life.
His mother, Molly,
rarely smiled. When he was younger she took care of him only as much as to
ensure he was clean, fed and attended school. As for love, that emotion was
never a part of his life. As far as he was concerned, Molly had used up her
quota of love with his father and brother until none remained for him. While
her lack of affection hurt him, he’d accepted it in his usual reserved manner.
While he was
growing up, the police were always at their door. If something unlawful
happened in their neighborhood, the Tierney household was their first port of
call. By the time he was a teenager, it seemed to Shane that the police were
waiting on the peripheral of his life for him to break the law. It also
appeared that his mother was waiting for the same thing.
His one and only
run-in with the law had been when he was fifteen years old.
Shane – Age
Fifteen
“Are you in or
not?” Perry Sutton asked again.
Shane had given
the question serious consideration since Perry first posed it five days before.
He was fifteen years old and his father and brother were both in prison—again.
His mother refused to accept anything from his father’s criminal friends. That
meant they had to survive on her meager waitress salary, and for them, money
was always in short supply.
He understood what
Molly was attempting to do, keep him away from the lifestyle his father and
brother were a part of. That was just one of the reasons he turned down Perry
Sutton’s proposal to join a gang of boys who were beginning their criminal
lives by robbing homes. That and the fact that he couldn’t understand their
mentality. The people in their neighborhood had so little, so breaking in and
stealing what had probably taken them years to acquire didn’t make any sense.
Everything Molly
did worked until he overheard a conversation between one of his father’s
supposed friends and his mother.
Molly never
allowed men into their home. But this one, for some reason, had somehow gained
access. Whatever the man had to say carried enough importance to cause her to
break her own rule.
His curiosity
piqued, Shane pretended to play his computer game as they spoke in lowered
voices. Something wasn’t right.
He’d seen and been
around men like his mother’s visitor before. He was the type of man who tried
to act as though they were worthy of respect when, in fact, they were chancers
looking for another mark.
At first glance,
the stranger gave the impression of prosperity. But on closer inspection one
saw the signs of shabbiness he tried to hide. His suit was shiny and the collar
and cuffs of his shirt
were frayed
from repeated use.
He was also a
sweaty bastard. When Molly stepped back from the hand that attempted to stroke
her arm, Shane forgot all pretense of playing his racing game. The stranger had
just solicited his mother for sex.
Shane knew she
wouldn’t answer his question but asked it just the same. “What does he want,
Mum?”
“Don’t you worry
about what I want with ya, mum. Go upstairs. This shouldn’t take too long.”
“Get out of our
house!”
“Shane don’t!”
Ignoring his
mother’s warning, he walked toward them. “Touch me mum again and I’ll break ya
fucking arm!”
“Shane!”
“You need to
listen to your mum, boy!”
The comment was
loaded with such disdain, Shane pulled in a deep breath to hold on to his
temper. When he felt he was under control, he shrugged off his mother’s
restraining hand and pushed her behind him.
He then faced the
man who thought to come into their home and disrespect her. “You can leave on
your own or with my help. Take ya pick.”
Shane felt Molly
move to stand beside him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the older man.
“Just go, Tommy.
There’s nothing here for you now.”
“There used to be,
Molly girl.”
“That was a long
time ago. You were a bastard then and from what I can see nothing’s changed,”
Molly fired back. “Do you think after all these years you can turn up and I’d
be glad to see ya? Well, you’re a bloody fool if that’s what’s in your mind.
Get out of my house and don’t come back!”
“Bobby’s not
coming back so what are ya saving it for? You don’t have much time left before
your face and figure’s gone. Then where are ya gonna be? I’ll tell you where…
alone in this shit hole with no one to cuddle up next to at night.”
Shane had seen old
photos of his mother. Molly had been beautiful as a lot of Irish women were. In
her youth, she had possessed jet black hair and startling blue eyes, that is a
characteristic of so many people from that island. He never knew that woman.
The vibrant beauty of those images had disappeared before his recollection.
What remained was a diluted version of her former self. Her good looks now just
a faint representation of what she had once been.
“What I do is my
business,” Molly answered Tommy her voice loaded with scorn. “Look at ya. You
think the likes of you has something to offer me—well ya don’t! Coming in here
like ya have something I want. I didn’t want ya twenty-six years ago and I
don’t want ya now. I made my decision and I’m living with it. By the look of
ya, I made the right choice. So piss off and take ya shiny suit with ya!”
This was the most
spirit his mother had shown in years. Shane couldn’t help himself, he laughed.
He saw Tommy’s
hand move towards him. The force of the blow that connected with his jaw rocked
him back on his heels. All traces of his amusement disappeared. In its place, a
veil of red seeped across his vision and his mind went blank.
Shane was tall and
slim and his build routinely fooled others into thinking he couldn’t look after
himself, and, in this case, his mother.
He went after the
bastard so fast, Tommy only had time to register surprise before he unleashed
two punches, making direct contact with the interloper’s face.
He didn’t know how
it happened, but somehow the older man was on his back and he was beating him
to a pulp. His mother’s screams for him to stop went unheeded. By the time he
came to his senses, Tommy’s face was a canvas painted in blood.
Blinking, Shane
rose to his feet and stumbled backwards. He felt nothing—not even satisfaction.
Just a cold emptiness at what he was capable of.
Tommy, still on
his backside shuffled backwards. As he staggered to his feet, Shane stalked his
every move. Before the older man reached the front door, he already held it
open. Then he waited with seeming patience for him to stumble out. Once Tommy
stood propped up by the balcony outside their flat, he slammed the door in his
face.
When he returned
to the front room, Molly was on her hands and knees scrubbing at the carpet
with a brush and a bowl of soapy water.
“Look what you’ve
done, Shane. Just look what you’ve gone and done. Full of lies that Tommy. The
old bill’s gonna be ‘ere any minute.”
“So he’s a grass
as well as a coward! So what. Let the police come, and I’ll tell um he came in
our house and hit me. All I did was finish what he started!”
His mother said
nothing more. She just hung her head and scrubbed at the carpet. After watching
her for a few more moments, he turned away.
It didn’t take
long for the loud banging on their front door to begin. Shane wondered why the
police never used the bell. They always banged on the door as though it was
their special way of announcing their arrival.
There was three of
them. All standing in his mother’s house shaking their heads and telling him
they expected nothing less from, Robert Tierney’s son.
The sight of
Molly’s blank look was the last thing he saw as they handcuffed him and dragged
him away.
~~~
Of course, they
couldn’t charge him with anything. Whatever lies Tommy spewed hadn’t stuck. He
was a fifteen-year-old skinny kid up against a full grown man who had initiated
everything that had happened.
Detective Bilston,
an older man nearing retirement age, took hold of his arm as he was about to
leave the police station with his mother.
“Remember what I
said, Shane. You can go the same way as your father and brother, or you can
make a decision right now to change your life.”
Shane pulled his
arm away as he belligerently looked the detective up and down.
Turning to Molly,
the detective addressed her. “He’s useful with his fists. Take this number,” he
said handing her a piece of paper. “See if you can’t get him to put those hands
to better use.”
Molly took the
number with only a nod. Shane felt for his mother, but he couldn’t hide his
disdain at the cliché. “Yeah, that’s right—send the East End boy to a gym and
get him into a boxing ring. Well, it ain’t gonna happen. So you can take ya
number and shove it!”
“Okay, no boxing,”
the detective said with only a touch of exasperation. “So, why don’t you tell
me what you’re interested in? I get it you know, you’re angry. Probably at the
whole world, but only you can change your life, young man. If you don’t want to
do it for yourself, do it for your mum. How much more do you think she can
take?”
Bilston knew the
family well thanks to his father and brother and he had watched Molly slowly
fade away, just as Shane had.
Molly was Shane’s
one soft spot. He could have been involved in any number of unlawful acts. For
his mother’s sake, much more than his own, he’d chosen not to.
“Cars,” Shane
whispered.
“What?”
“I said, cars. I’m
interested in cars.”
“Okay, cars it
is,” Bilston acknowledged with a nod. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll see if I
can get you a part-time job at a local garage. In return, you’ll do well in
school, make your mum proud and stay out of trouble even if it comes looking
for you. Do we have a deal?”
Shane looked at
the hand the detective held out to him. Then he looked at his mother. What he
saw on her face shocked him. Her eyes were flooded with tears and she looked as
though she was holding her breath in hope.
“Deal,” Shane
agreed as he shook the detective’s hand.
Detective Bilston
kept his word. He secured a job for Shane in a garage. With the lack of warmth
he experienced at home, he poured all his efforts into his education and his
part-time job. Hard work and the determination to change the circumstances of
his life got him into university to study engineering.
Shane attended a
university close to home so that he could keep an eye on his mother, who in the
last two years seemed to be fading away.
Returning home one
cold winter's night, as soon as he opened the front door he knew something was
wrong. There was an unnatural stillness inside the small flat that permeated
the air and seeped into him causing his muscles to tighten.
He found her in
the bathroom. Molly was already cold and still dressed in her nightgown. His
once beautiful mother was gone. Her final moments of life spent lying alone on
a cold linoleum floor.
The weeks that
followed were difficult ones for Shane. Although Molly had left instructions
and money to pay for her cremation, he didn’t ask anyone for help to organize
his mother’s funeral. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t have known who to
turn to. So he made all the arrangements alone.
He had told
Molly’s boss about her death and had given him details of her funeral. He never
really expected the man to turn up so it was no surprise when he didn’t.
On the day of her
cremation, there was only one other mourner. Somehow Detective Bilston had
found out about his mother’s death. He alone stood beside Shane. They didn’t
speak to each other, but his presence helped him to stand tall and accept that
he now had to fend for himself.
