Southsiders (3 page)

When Jesse told Archie yesterday about being newly orphaned, Archie pulled a face and then scratched his head. “How the hell are you going to manage? Clegg's always got his beady eyes on you and the social workers won't let this one pass.”

Jesse had tried his best to imagine a world without his parents. Once he'd overcome the shock, the idea of living alone didn't seem so bad. He spent the whole of his first evening giving the kitchen an early spring clean. The cooker and the cupboards hadn't gleamed like they did now since they'd first moved in. Another week with no one there to trash the place and he'd have the whole flat in the condition of a show home.

The two boys were sitting under the arches where they were usually to be found, enjoying the last of their lunch break.

Archie checked around to make sure no one was paying them any attention and passed over a shoe-box with a piece of string tied around it. “A tin of beans, a pork pie, a bag of macaroni, two packs of salt and vinegar and a Twix. Well, half a Twix to be exact – I got hungry in the car this morning.”

“Thanks,” Jesse said. He knew Archie would come through for him. Which meant there was a chance he might manage the next request. He cleared his throat and went for it. “There's something else I need. It's a bigger favour.” He looked at his watch to get a reminder about the date. “It's the thirteenth today.”

“Unlucky for some.”

“And the rent's due on the eighteenth.”

Archie closed his eyes, like he knew what was coming.

“I need five hundred and sixteen pounds to take along. Cash.”

When Archie opened his eyes his jaw dropped, like he'd just witnessed a train crash. “Five hundred quid? You're having me on.”

“You don't have it, then?”

“No I bloody well don't.” It was no surprise, but it was still disappointing.

Jesse put the box of food inside his coat and zipped it up as far as it would go. “There's no way you can get it?”

Archie didn't answer. His eyebrows twitched as if to signal that there was thinking going on and then he shook his head. “Have you tried emailing your mum like I suggested?”

He'd thought about it and couldn't. Would rather cut his hair off than get in touch with her ever again. He shook his head to let Archie know that he hadn't.

Archie pursed his lips and took a new angle. “And your Uncle Cliff? How did that go?”

“He's not my real uncle and I have no idea what his surname is. Or whereabouts he stays in Belfast.”

There was silence for a moment which was broken by the snap of chocolate as Archie chewed off the end of a Yorkie bar. “You could mug a granny,” Archie joked.

Jesse didn't laugh. It wasn't such a bad idea. He could probably manage purse snatching or smash and grab. Nobody would be able to blame him for turning to crime. It was just the way it was. He'd spend the afternoon making a plan while the rest of the class did their topic work. If all went well, he'd have his cash flow problem solved in no time at all.

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T
he taxi dropped Ray off at the door with the big number six on it. When he handed over the fare, he noticed that his hands still hadn't stopped shaking. Worse, the sense that he was empty inside had intensified.

As the cab pulled away, Ray took in his surroundings. It was a street full of old red-brick terrace which looked like little Lego houses that had been glued together, a string of two-up, two-downs built to house the workers for some factory or other. At the corner of the street, the lights from a tiny shop shone in the darkness. Ray's eyes fixed on it for a moment. The windows were covered so he couldn't see in. He thought about filling the empty spaces that kept crying out to him with cigarette smoke. Going in to the shop and picking up some tobacco. A roll-up might do him the world of good. Thing was, this was supposed to be a fresh start of sorts and he hadn't had a cigarette when he was sober since the night he wet Jesse's head in The Southie all those years earlier.

While he weighed the pros and cons of starting again, the door opened and his old friend's face appeared.

“Ray Spalding. Good to see you mate.” Cliff held out his hand and Ray shook it hard. Held onto it like it was a lifeline. “Get yourself in here and tell us how you're doing. The wife's dying to meet you.”

Ray wiped his shoes on the doormat while Cliff took his bag and threw it down into the corner.

Downstairs, a wall had been knocked through that either created a lounge that had a kitchen at one end or a kitchen with a lounge attached. A huge, flat-screen TV was fixed onto the wall so that it dominated everything even though the sound was switched down. In the corner, under the white lights of the tiniest Christmas tree Ray had ever seen, a woman sat feeding a baby with a bottle.

“Izzy, this is Ray.”

Izzy offered a thin smile by way of greeting. When Cliff had said she was dying to meet him, he hadn't realised he probably meant it literally. There were dark rings under her eyes and her cheeks were sunken. Her arms were stick thin and her complexion whiter than the milk her baby was drinking.

Ray stood in the middle of the room and remembered the state he was in. He pointed up at the bandage around his head. “I've had a wee accident. Sorry if it scared the baby, me looking like this.” The baby just carried on sucking noisily as if nothing had happened. He held out his hand and Izzy gave it a shake. Her hands were bony to the touch and Ray didn't dare to give the usual squeeze in case he broke something.

“Welcome to Belfast,” she said. “This terror here is Rose.”

Ray lent over, put his finger into Rose's hand and enjoyed the gentleness of her grasp as her hand closed around it. “Nice to meet you, Rose.”

“Congratulations,” Ray told Izzy. “She's beautiful. I meant to get flowers at the airport, but...” But he'd forgotten.

“You must be starving,” Izzy said quickly. It was like she was saving Ray's blushes instead of leaving him there hanging. Squirming. “There's tea in the oven for you. Cliff, will you get your man something to eat?”

“Sure thing,” Cliff said, turning round and grabbing a pair of oven gloves. “Pie and chips all right for ya, Ray?”

It might have been if it hadn't looked like it had shrunk and dried out in the middle of the plate and if the gravy on the pie hadn't solidified into a brown crust.

Cliff used his free arm to sweep a newspaper from the table and put the meal down in the clear space. He plonked down a knife and fork and pulled out a chair for Ray.

A generous application of ketchup solved the problem of the pie's flavour. Not that it would have mattered much. Ray hadn't eaten since breakfast and the food was exactly what he needed to help settle his nerves.

As he mopped up the filling with the last of his chips, Cliff winked at him as if they were playing on the same team. “Swallow that lot and we'll be off to the pub.” Ray hadn't finished chewing and decided it might be better not to answer until Izzy had given the OK.

She was busy juggling, putting down the bottle and trying to get the baby upright at the same time. “Don't leave me, Cliff. Not by myself with the baby all night. Please.” Her voice was feeble. The look on her face told a story Ray didn't want to know.

The baby started to cry. It was a little outburst at first, but it soon grew into a call of the wild. “Please, Cliff.”

Cliff didn't seem to be listening. He was too busy putting on his coat and wrapping a scarf round his neck.

Izzy managed to get the baby over her shoulder, rubbing her back to release any trapped bubbles of air. The infant just kept up the noise, shouting for all she was worth.

The noise pierced Ray's skull and zapped him in the middle of his brain. He couldn't stand it. Over he went, gently wrapping his fingers around the baby's ribs and picking her up as carefully as he could manage. She was tiny. Weighed next to nothing. He tightened the blanket around her, took her into his chest, nestled her into his shoulder and began tapping her back. His body took on the rhythm of the baby's heartbeat as he bobbed quickly up and down. In no time at all, the crying slowed and quietened until it had soon disappeared altogether. He whispered hushing noises and felt completely at one with the world for the first time in an age. It was just like the early days with Jesse, only without the music in the background. “You could try having some tunes on. Bairns like that kind of thing,” he told Izzy.

Izzy wore a relieved smile that seemed to come from some great depth inside her.

“When you've finished doing the woman's work, Ray, let's be getting down to the pub, will we?” Cliff emphasised the need to go by putting his hand on Ray's shoulder and turning him ever so slightly in the direction of the door.

“You're a magician, sure you are,” a grateful Izzy declared. She reached out and took her daughter back, cradling her into the nape of her neck.

It was a pretty nape, Ray thought. If a little pale.

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I
t wasn’t the local pub that Ray had expected to camp out in, but a hotel a ten-minute walk from the house. He managed to tell his own story in a matter of minutes, leaving out one or two of the major details, like how he’d been under the whip for as long as he could remember and how he’d lost his old self since the last time they’d been together. Thinking about it made him sad. Had him wanting to phone home to see how things were. To check up on Paula and make sure Jesse was OK.

Cliff didn’t seem to notice. He had no trouble spoiling the peace with his own sagas. How trying for a baby had turned sex into a duty. How Izzy had been unravelling since Rose had been born until all that was left was the shell of the woman he’d met. How his job at the Titanic Exhibition was more fun than any other he’d had and how he could sort it for Ray to get a job with him. Of course Ray would have to start at the bottom, but there was always a way up the ladder if he was prepared to work for it.

It came as a relief to Ray when his old friend went to the bar to get a round in.

The room was tiny, a snug populated by a large TV, empty chairs and a barwoman who’d been reading a newspaper when they arrived. She seemed to have trouble standing up when they entered, possibly due to the weight of her earrings, a couple of silver hula hoops on the end of thick chains. It reminded Ray of his own jewellery and he fingered the cross and the key to make sure they were still there.

Ray was checking his phone as Cliff put three drinks down on the table. Not a text or a missed call in sight. Ray flicked his finger on the screen to summon up his emails. It started off as junk and it was followed by a little more of the same. Something inside him sagged. It sagged more when he finally saw a message from Paula. The preview box opened up for him. “Ray. You are a hole...” Jesus, it wasn’t good. She was supposed to be missing him. To be begging him to come home. So heartbroken that life had lost all meaning. He felt the energy evaporate from his body and couldn’t face reading the whole of the message. He put the phone onto the table.

The pint caught his attention. Shifted his train of thought. It looked good. A deep brown body with a fine head of foam. If only everything in the world could be as reliable as a beer. Cliff started speaking.

“Listen, Ray, I’m going to have to leave you by yourself for a while. Sorry, mate.” Ray noticed that his friend had two drinks on his side of the table. A pint and what looked like a gin and tonic with ice and some green leaves floating on the top.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m scratching your back with the place to stay and setting up the job and everything.” Cliff took a couple of quick sips from his drink. Leant forward on his seat as if he was about to get up. “And you’ll need to scratch mine. A man has some basic needs and Izzy isn’t up to the job. You’ve seen the way she is.” It was true. She looked wasted, but bringing up a baby would suck the life out of you. All she needed was some good old-fashioned loving. “She’s been trying to keep me in, pressing the guilt button and all. It’s been driving me nuts.”

“I’m here so we can get you out of the house. Is that it?”

“That and a little bit more. See, there’s someone from work who’s been giving me a hard time about not being able to get out.” Cliff’s phone buzzed inside his jacket. He reached in and checked it. Smiled and stood to leave. “I’ve got a little room service to carry out, if you know what I’m saying.” He gave one of his winks. Ray was already hating the subtext of those, the one that made him an accomplice in something he hadn’t a clue about. “I’ll be an hour. Two at the most.” He picked up the beer and the G&T and wandered over to the exit. “Have a nice day.”

The lady at the bar looked over at Ray, smiled and then got right back to her newspaper.

This wasn’t good. In all the years Ray had been with Paula, he’d not strayed once. It wasn’t that he was too frightened, it just wouldn’t have been right. He took a few gulps of his beer. Enjoyed the bitterness it left on his tongue.

The urge to smoke rose up inside him again. His addiction wouldn’t leave him alone, as if it were tied to him like a piece of elastic – every time he kicked it away it just bounced right back. And it was stronger this time.

He looked over at the cigarette machine. All they had were tailor-mades. Over-priced ones at that. It was enough to quell the desire, at least for the moment.

He thought of Paula. Wanted to hear her voice, even if it was shouting at him. He pushed his phone around on the table until the need to find out what was happening crushed his resistance. Picked it up and touched the screen to call home. It rang and rang and rang, like a mantra for the lonely.

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B
unking off school was nothing new for Jesse. He was an expert. Not that he needed to be. Without parents, he only had the teachers left to convince.