The Geary Series Boxed Set (58 page)

The ferry boat docked at Belfast port in the early hours of the morning. Mickey and Angie were standing at the top of the stairs that had been chained off. The tannoy system on the boat had asked the drivers to make their way to the exit stairs.

“Just so you know, I’m flying home.” Angie gritted out.

“Oh, come on, Angie, it wasn’t that bad,” Mickey said and nudged her arm with his elbow.

“It was horrific,” she hissed, her eyes searched her fellow passengers as she grumbled her annoyance of the journey across the Irish Sea. “The entire bar has its glass stock smashed on the floor. I had to zig-zag my way across the dance floor to reach my seat only to stand back up and stagger to the bathroom to throw up.” She said.

“Yeah, that was the best part, we’d only been at sea for eight minutes.” He said laughing.

“Piss off, sailor boy.” She muttered and hitched her handbag higher on her shoulder.

Mickey continued to snigger as the other passengers had crammed themselves into the area around the stairs that led up and down. People were anxious to get into their transport. Mickey twirled the car key around his finger, hula hooping the metal ring up and down his index finger. Angie stared mesmerised while she waited for the go-ahead from the ship’s staff.

The announcement rang out through the speakers and like race horses in a stampede, the passengers jostled for supremacy on reaching the gate. Angie had won second position to Mickey and the lady behind her stood far too close. Angie’s only option was to step closer to Mickey, which only resulted in pressing her breasts up against Mickey’s back.

He looked over his shoulder and smirked when he received the scowl he wanted, he winked and turned to face front again. The hatch door to the car deck finally opened and they inched their way sideways down the second row of cars until they had reached their vehicle. Angie waited patiently while Mickey stood on his side of the car twirling his car keys once more.

“What are you waiting for sailor?” Angie asked, her stomach still not settled from the journey. They had docked half an hour ago, but her stomach still thought they were in the force nine gales they had sailed through.

“You won’t be flying home, you’ll be sailing back with me,” Mickey said and pressed the unlock button on his key fob. Opening the door carefully he slid into the driver’s seat.

Angie obediently followed suit and slid into her seat, holding the car door flush to her slim body to not dent the car next to them. Wiggling her way into the car awkwardly she slammed the door shut. Not all of her had made it into the car. Her scream and ensuing string of expletives caused Mickey to push a finger into his ear and wiggle it.

“I can’t hear,” he said slowly and loudly, “I’m deaf, Angie, you’ve deafened me for life,” Mickey said slapping the side of his head and then vigorously shaking it.

“Oh shut up,” she said and opened the door a fraction and pulled the rest of her wayward long black curls into the car. She patted down her hair and leaned into Mickey while she closed the car door once more.

“Hello love, you want to get cosy?” Mickey asked and kissed her head.

“I haven’t forgiven you for putting me through that hellish journey, we will negotiate terms while we’re here.” She said and yanked the seatbelt over her tiny frame and clicked the belt into the lock.

She harrumphed when she had to do it a second time, Mickey had pressed the red button releasing the belt and it slid up her body and over her shoulder. Grimacing she did the belt up once more and rested her hand on the button. She left it there until Mickey started the engine of the car and began to drive along the metal ramps of the ferry. The loud clang as each car drove over the join of the boat and dock ramp rang out. Her imagination ran wild and she imagined Godzilla stomping along the walkway making its presence known.

While Mickey drove through the narrow painted lines on the port floor, he punched the address in Dublin into his navigator. He had estimated that the journey would take two hours if they didn’t stop. Reaching the exit and checking which lane he needed to be in, he took a side glance at Angie and quietly laughed that she had already fallen asleep. He turned on the radio, keeping the classical channel on a low volume and hit the motorway.

Angie opened her eyes and stretched her legs as far as she could into the foot well of the car. The sun had risen over the rooftops of the cobbled street they were parked in. She looked out of her passenger window and then at Mickey, he was fast asleep. Stroking his cheek with the back of her hand, she felt the stubble of his unshaven face. His beard hairs were multicoloured, patches of ginger mixed with black and a few grey ones too. When he wasn't annoying, she quite liked the look of him.

“Are you feeling me up while I sleep?” Mickey mumbled, still half asleep.

Angie whipped her hand back. Grinning and turning his head, he leaned over quickly and kissed her head.

“Come on, let’s get some breakfast,” Mickey suggested, taking the keys out of the ignition and opening the door to get out. Stretching to his full height Angie saw the skin between the edge of his jeans and his jumper. His tanned skin with a smattering of dark hair invited her touch. He finished his stretch and bent down to look at her through the window, he mouthed to her to get her arse out of the car.

Picking up her handbag from the foot well she heaved her weary body out of the car and onto the pavement.

“When did we get here?” She asked and shivered in the early morning hours. The sun hadn’t been up long enough to heat the air.

“About two hours ago, I didn’t like to wake you, you got very little sleep on the boat.” He said, standing on the other side of the car to Angie.

“Well, thank you, that’s sweet, but that boat was going to capsize and sink,” Angie said.

The two of them met further along the pavement and Mickey unzipped the top of Angie’s handbag and dropped the car keys into the cavernous accessory. To show his appreciation, he zipped up the bag again and rearranged it on her shoulder. Angie raised her eyebrow and muttered her annoyance.

He kissed her head and took her hand in his, leading them away from the car. They walked down the quiet Georgian street, where it appeared that they were the only two people awake in Dublin city centre. At the end of the road, they joined the early joggers and shift workers to walk over the Liffey River via the main road bridge. A sharp turn left and they entered the second establishment which was a cafe, this one had outside seating. Metal chairs with cushions and round matching tables with a jar of brown and white sugar cubes holding down a menu sat on the table top.

Mickey held out a chair and invited Angie to sit down, her manners dictated she took the seat offered even though she was still shivering.

“Take a look at the menu, I’ll be back in a few minutes, I need to use the bathroom,” Mickey said.

Mickey left Angie on her own while he nipped into the cafe. The waitress stood behind the counter, unwrapping the bread the bakery had just delivered. She methodically placed them one by one on the shelf.

“Who’s the girl Michael?” She said looking at him through the mirror that sat behind the coffee machine next to the bread shelves. She smiled warmly and winked at her customer.

“Hi Siobhan, stop calling me Michael, I feel like I’m in trouble.” Mickey said and rounded the end of the counter to give her a hug. He squeezed her hard and held on tight, resting his head in the crook of her neck.

“You are in trouble, I haven’t see you for five years and I asked you a question, who’s the girl Michael?” she said and wriggled out of his grasp. Escaping back behind the counter Siobhan continued to put the bread up on the sales shelves.

“She’s a friend,” Michael answered.

“No, she isn’t, who’s the fucking girl?” Siobhan asked once again.

“Oh, how I have missed your foul mouth and impatience,” Michael answered.

“I’m a friend of his, although I am reassessing this status after the hell journey he brought me on. Added to this, he has left me outside in the freezing cold with an injured skull.” Angie said from the doorway. She hugged her body for warmth and shifted on the spot.

Siobhan marched down the galley serving area and held onto the corner of the counter to sway her body around on the spot. She accelerated past Mickey and barrelled into Angie, giving her a bear hug, lifting her off her feet.

Angie’s tiny body dangled like a rag doll while she was being manhandled by the six-foot blonde. Once she was placed safely back on her feet, she grinned up at the statuesque woman and tilted her head.

“Do you know any of Mickey’s secrets? Please say yes, please?” Angie begged, adding prayer hands for extra persuasion.

“Fuck yeah, I know them all, have a seat. Do you drink coffee, Angie? I’ll make us a pot and we can chat.” Siobhan said clutching Angie’s arm.

Siobhan didn’t wait for Angie to answer and returned to her side of the counter and poured the jug of freshly made coffee into two mugs. Carrying the black tray with the coffee and goodies to a table in the corner, she nodded to Angie to take a seat.

“So, that’s me cut out then, no coffee and there are only two cookies on that plate,” Michael said standing at the Formica table where the girls were sitting making fast friends.

“Go away Michael and do your stuff, I need to prepare Angie for a future with you,” Siobhan answered.

Michael scoffed and repeatedly nodded at the finality of the situation. He would rather do the next part on his own and was grateful for Siobhan’s intervention. She knew him better than anyone.

Mickey left the cafe to walk back to where the car had been parked. He needed to take the next step on his own. Stepping back into the home where he grew up, Mickey had mixed emotions. He hurried along the pavement, conscious that Angie would run after him and would want to come along.

He reached the car and searched his pockets for his keys and then narrowed his eyes at the bags sitting in the back of the car. Shrugging he pivoted until he saw the large black door, firmly closed. The four shallow steps that led up to the Georgian house were covered with moss. All the houses on Winston Road faced the morning sun. The park opposite the small row of houses had tall trees that weren’t quite tall enough to block out the sunlight, even in the winter. The fine green coating enjoyed the morning sun. Mickey took two steps to reach the door and with trepidation he banged the lion’s head on the knocker. Waiting patiently, shoving his hands into his jean pockets he rocked back and forth on his heels.

After a few minutes, he pressed his ear against the thick wooden door, his eyes roamed around the door frame. The peeling white flakes of paint fluttered in the breeze. There had been a time when the house had been perfectly appointed, but those days seemed long gone. He swapped ears, pressing it harder to the wood this time, begging to hear a sound.

Frowning, he marched heavily down the steps, to the pavement.

“Michael, is that you?” A woman said.

Mickey turned around and grinned, running back up the stairs he hugged the grey haired woman. Kissing both of her cheeks after letting her go he took a long look at his father’s housekeeper. She had been a young woman when he moved to this house when he was a baby.

“It’s good to see you, Beverly, how are you keeping?” He asked.

Mickey wrapped an arm around her shoulder and they walked through the wide open door. The familiar smell hit him, he stopped in the middle of the hallway. Stretching his neck back, he looked directly above him. The glass roof, covered in grime and twigs, still filled him with nostalgia. When he was eight years old, he would sneak down in the middle of the night and lie down on the black and white tiles and look up to see the stars. He had discovered a telescope in school, watching the stars from the vantage point of the floor gave him hope of a better life.

“Come on Michael, the stars will be out later. Why don’t you go into his study and I’ll bring some tea.” Beverly moved away from Mickey along the corridor and disappeared through a door at the end. Mickey turned to his left and within a few steps he pushed open his father’s study door. The musty aroma hit his nostrils while the disarray of the room assaulted his eyes.

“Elijah would feel right at home in an office like this.” He muttered and attempted to navigate his way through the stacked books and files in piles on the floor.

He stepped over the last hurdle and landed his arse into a leather chair behind the old desk in the corner. Sitting in the chair, Mickey shifted from left to right until the lumps in the cushion flattened out. The surface of the desk remained clear, not a single item graced the leather top. He ran his index finger along the wooden edge and inspected the results. He made the assumption that the desk had been dusted earlier that day.

The squeaking door joints announced Beverly’s entrance. She stood in the doorway looking lost, trying to attempt a way to the desk. Mickey jumped over the hurdles to rescue the tray from her shaking hands.

“There is a letter for you in the top drawer on the left, he said to give it to you when the time came.” Beverly touched his arm and patted it.

Carrying the tray with a tea pot, cup and pastries to the desk, he poured the coffee and sipped while perusing the library of books. An array of genres rested on the shelves, the split spines sitting alongside pristine books. Pulling out a well-worn book halfway, he changed his mind and pushed it back in place. The seven shelved wooden bookshelf had books stuffed on to each level. The other shelves and cases around the study were completely empty. The contents covered the floor, his father at some stage searched unsuccessfully for an item.