Sudden Death (34 page)

‘She’s a tough kid that one. Insisted on being discharged the day after, even though she has a broken ankle. She’s gone up to Scotland for a couple of weeks to stay with Karen’s sister and recuperate. We thought it would be good for her to get away for a bit.’

Debs arched an eyebrow.

‘We?’ Debs regarded him with amusement.

He started to blush.

‘Maybe.’

‘And I guess that gives the two of you a chance to spend some time together. Don’t fuck it up this time, Erasmus.’

Erasmus looked over again at Karen. He knew what he felt and he thought she felt the same. Could you go back, make things right, become the couple they had been and promised to become?

He took another swig of his beer. The music from inside the house was silenced and a few seconds later the sounds of Curtis Mayfield drifted out into the garden.

Karen had picked up Olivia, the youngest of Pete and Debs’ kids, and was swinging her around. She caught Erasmus’s eye and smiled.

Maybe you could go back. Maybe it could work.

He turned his face to the weak sun and felt a calm settle on him that he couldn’t recall feeling for many years.

Debs picked up the tongs and turned the burgers, the red flesh sizzled as the fat burned.

‘I tell you it was a good job Pete set up that sock puppet account otherwise who knows what would have happened?’ said Debs.

Erasmus felt the elusive calm drain away and a knot form in his stomach. He wasn’t sure why and before he had time to analyse the sudden lurch in mood he heard Pete shouting to him from the patio.

‘Erasmus, come here! You ain’t going to believe this!’

CHAPTER 45

The house in Formby looked quieter than the last time he had visited. There was only one car in the driveway, a fairly ordinary Mini in the place where the supercars had once sat. Erasmus parked his battered but still just about drivable Golf, took another at the printout of the email from Pete’s cousin and sighed. He read the three letters again: ALS.

Steph came out to greet him. In contrast to the last time he had seen her when had been deploying her full armoury of hair, make-up, teeth and tan, now she was dressed simply in jeans and a black T-shirt and wore her hair up in a bun. She still looked stunning and Erasmus had to take a deep breath to compose himself before stepping out of the car.

She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

‘I heard about you on the news, quite the hero saving that girl from the paedo.’

‘Hi Steph, you shouldn’t believe what you see on TV and who knows whether he was a paedophile.’

She cocked her head to one side and grinned.

‘He defo looks like a paedo. Come on in, and what happened to your face?’

‘Fishing accident.’

‘It must have been a big fucking fish.’

In the large lounge Erasmus noticed that the full-sized portrait of Wayne and Steph dressed in white had gone. She saw him looking at the slightly faded space where it had been.

‘My Italian friend didn’t like it. Who can blame him, eh Erasmus?’

They sat down facing each other on the white leather sofas. She pulled out a cigarette and offered the packet to Erasmus. He shook his head.

‘I’m trying to give up, turn over a new leaf. How’s it going with De Marco, by the way?’

She tossed her head to one side and blew out a long stream of smoke.

‘We split up. Turns out jealousy isn’t so attractive.’

‘He was jealous of you?’

She sucked her bottom lip and then took another drag of the cigarette. Her jade green eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement.

‘No, he was jealous of Wayne. Jealous of the fact that I loved him and that he would always be a better player than him, of course. I mean we are talking about boys and their games, after all.’

‘Do you still love Wayne?’

She brought her slender legs up and placed them underneath her. For a second her expression changed, a look of sadness replacing the cool, composed mask.

‘It doesn’t matter if I love Wayne. He has what I couldn’t give him, a child with that posh tart from Mossley Hill.’

Erasmus leaned forward.

‘I’ve change my mind, can I have one of those cigarettes?’

‘Help yourself.’

He picked up the packet from the glass coffee table and lit the cigarette.

‘How did you know about Wayne’s illness?’

She went to answer, her delicate lips forming a small ‘o’, but no words followed.

‘It’s OK, Steph. I’m not going to tell anyone.’

She fixed him with a defiant stare then slowly ground out her cigarette in the ashtray.

‘Wayne came on as a sixteen-year-old and scored the winning goal for Everton in a derby match. He was an instant hero with the fans and nine months later he won his first England cap. After he scored that goal – the goal against Brazil in the semi-final – he became one of the world’s most famous players. Do you know what happens when a boy becomes a brand?’

He looked around at the opulent palace that Steph and Wayne had shared. They had travelled so far in such a short space of time. He could imagine the journey must have been dizzying.

‘Tell me.’

‘He becomes home to a million vested interests. Everyone owned a piece of him. It came with all the trimmings and I won’t lie to ya, Erasmus, we both enjoyed it. But it was Cowley that struggled, he was blown away by it and it was only when Babak appeared that things grew calm. Babak, or one of his companies, or a friend’s company in the Middle East, no one quite knows, bought out Cowley’s agency and things changed. He brought calm to the confusion, gave us direction, brought in the most lucrative of endorsements. For a while things were amazing.’ She sighed. The room suddenly seemed very cold and empty and Steph a fragile figure at its centre. ‘At first I thought it was the pressure getting to Wayne.’

‘What happened?’

‘Eighteen months ago he fell over when putting up the Christmas tree lights. We both put it down to booze, we’d had a few, but when it happened again a few days later I called Babak and he came and picked Wayne up and took him to a private hospital. He was away for a few days and when he returned he seemed fine. He said the doctors had told him he was exhausted and that a few days rest and regular vitamin shots would see him right.’

‘And did they?’

‘At first, yes. But then the falls, the stumbling started to happen more and more. He went back to the clinic and the pattern repeated itself.’

‘Was it what happened to Wayne’s father that made you suspicious?’

She nodded.

‘Me and Wayne had been trying for a baby for a while. One night round at Jane’s, she had been face down in the gin bucket all evening, and when Wayne went to bed she told me that maybe I was better off not having his child. She said that he had poison in his blood and the baby would end up like him. I asked her what she meant and she told me.’ A small tear had formed in the corner of Steph’s right eye.

‘Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, “ALS”, otherwise known as Lou Gehrig’s disease’ said Erasmus.

She blinked back tears.

‘Yes. Progressive, inevitable and incurable.’

‘And fatal.’

Steph ran a perfectly manicured hand through her hair.

‘I didn’t know what to do so I spoke to Babak about it.’

‘And what did he say?’

She half laughed, half sobbed.

‘He was honest. He said that they had discovered he had Lou Gehrig’s disease as they had requested his father’s death certificate and spoken with Jane. She told them. That’s why Wayne’s father killed himself, he knew what was coming down the track. Babak said not to worry, they were treating it and it would keep the worst of the symptoms at bay for a while and whatever I did I wasn’t to tell Wayne.’

‘Why not tell Wayne?’

‘He said it would stop Wayne laying the golden eggs. He reminded me of where I came from and asked me whether I wanted to go back there. And you know what, Erasmus? I thought about things, weighed them up and decided I didn’t want to go back there.’

‘So what changed?’

‘Wayne changed, the drug they give him isn’t licensed and it has side effects. Bad side effects. The mood swings were terrible, you’ve seen that yourself. But the worst of it was the change it had on us. When you introduce a lie it eats away at your relationship, I thought I could do it, but it just destroyed us. I pushed him into the arms of that girl, it was my fault.’

She wiped a tear away with a tanned arm.

‘You sent the letter to Ted?’

She nodded.

‘I was hurt. I knew about the girl, that Wayne had got her pregnant. Christ, Wayne confessed everything to me. He’s like a child sometimes. So I sent the letter to Ted, I wanted things to change. I knew Babak would take care of the girl and he did. Babak told me the child had been aborted and I felt so guilty. I wrote to Ted because I thought he would look into it, maybe speak to Wayne. He’s been like a father to him, but it turns out it was you who Wayne looked up to. All I know is something had to change.’

Erasmus looked around. The first time he had been here he been struck by the grandiose nature of the rooms and the sheer luxury of the furnishings. Now, he looked again he just saw an antiseptic room that reminded him of a hospital, clinical and functional.

‘The transfer will take him to Dagestan. He needs to spend his remaining time with his son. He needs to know.’

‘Babak will kill me if I tell him.’

Erasmus stood up.

‘You don’t need to worry about that.’

***

Forty minutes later and Erasmus was once again at Frank Tallow’s front door. Tallow’s driveway had a red Ferrari and a black Aston Martin in situ. Erasmus guessed that the money followed the star, and Frank Tallow’s star was on the rise quite nicely since he had struck his deal with Babak.

He rang the doorbell and hoped that Wayne would answer. The hope was a forlorn one. Wayne had not retuned any of his calls and it was no surprise when the door was opened by Frank Tallow. He was still as ruddy faced as ever but now he was also sporting the biggest shit-eating grin Erasmus had ever seen.

‘Hey, Erasmus, the lawyer/bodyguard/total failure. Ruined any careers lately? Apart from your own?’ He belly laughed at his own joke.

‘Is Wayne in? I know he’s staying here.’

Tallow put his hands on his hips.

‘He is, is he? Well, given his fiancée and his child live here too that wouldn’t be too surprising, would it? What would be surprising would be if he wanted to speak to you.’

From somewhere in the bowels of the house Erasmus could hear the sounds of a baby crying.

‘I need to speak to him.’

‘Speak to the fucking door, loser!’

Tallow slammed the door in Erasmus’s face.

Erasmus stood there contemplating whether smashing down the door was an option and then decided that maybe, on balance, that wasn’t a good way to go. He turned around and walked back down the path. He had made it halfway down the long gravel drive when a voice called out his name. He turned around and saw Wayne jogging down the drive after him.

Wayne stopped a few yards away.

‘Hey Wayne, how are you?’

Wayne looked away and then back at Erasmus.

‘How am I? Don’t you think an apology is in order? You caused a riot with my baby son in the room. He could have been hurt.’

Erasmus sucked some air through his teeth.

‘Fair comment. I’m sorry, Wayne. I thought they were in danger.’

‘Is it true you’re mentally ill?’

Erasmus laughed.

‘Tallow tell you that? Well, what can I say? Some days I have a cold some days I don’t. I came here to tell you something.’

Wayne shook his head.

‘The biggest transfer in Everton’s history happens on Monday, it will set me up for life and you’ve got something to tell me. I thought you were here to wish me luck? Well, I’ve got to hear this, what is it?’

There was a wooden bench table just off the path. Erasmus walked to it and sat down.

‘Sit down, Wayne,’ he said.

Wayne, shook his head, swore, and then took a seat next to Erasmus. He looked like a child sitting there waiting to hear his exam results. Erasmus paused; maybe it wasn’t his place, but if not him then who?

‘You’re dying, Wayne. Your stumbling, your loss in form these are all the fist stages of a disease called Lou Gehrig’s disease. I’m sorry.’

Wayne jutted out his jaw and his lips became tight and mean.

‘You’re a fucking liar. I get tested all the time. I had a loss of form, sure, what player doesn’t. Cowley is right, you are a fucking nutter!’

Erasmus sighed.

‘It’s why your father killed himself, he knew what was going to happen to him. He didn’t want to put you or your mother through it. She didn’t want you to know, she just hoped you wouldn’t have the gene. Babak had you tested for it after he spoke to your mother.’

Wayne snapped and grabbed Erasmus by the throat. Erasmus didn’t resist.

‘Fuck!’ shouted Wayne and let Erasmus go.

‘I’m so sorry. Babak and Cowley have been treating you with an experimental drug, those vitamin shots Khan gives you. That’s why they want the transfer. The drugs have held the disease at bay but the disease is progressive. They need this to go through now before the effects they temporarily halted with the drugs re-emerge. It’s a fraud to get one last payday out of you, Wayne. I’m not telling you what to do but it’s your life and you need to know.’

‘One last pay day,’ whispered Wayne. ‘How long have I got?’

Erasmus had taken a look online. The answer he had found, and he guessed that Wayne would find, when he Googled the disease was that there was an average time of thirty-nine months from diagnosis to death. The intervening period would be filled with a gradual loss of motor functions leading to eventual suffocation as he stopped being able to breathe. Erasmus could understand why Wayne’s father had decided to get ahead of the curve. What had Steph said? She had noticed Wayne start to bump into things around the house at the end of last season, some eight months ago. But then who knew how long the experimental drugs would postpone the inevitable or whether there were more trials out there or maybe Wayne was an outlier? Whatever lay ahead at least now Wayne knew his position and he had a choice.