Twisted Agendas (30 page)

Danny made him wait half-a-minute before opening the door. “Welcome, Dad,” he said. “Come in.”

Dressed in flannels with knife-edge creases, his father at forty-five cut a handsome figure. His eyes inspected the entire room, the staircase and beyond to the sunken kitchen within
seconds.

“Are you hungry?” Danny asked.

He shook his head. “I’d kill for a cup of tea.”

As Danny was in the kitchen, his father called out, “This place is a bit pokey.”

“I love it.”

“Not much in the way of a decent stick of furniture. What did you say your landlady does for a living?”

“Don’t you find the sofa comfortable?”

His father tugged down the sleeves of his navy blazer. While Danny made the tea, his father inspected the artwork and then walked out into the garden.

“I couldn’t live in a place like this,” he said, when he came inside a minute later.

“It’s the city, Dad.” Danny handed him a mug of tea and they went into the living room.

“I’ve no doubt your mother’s already clued you in on why I’m here.”

“She did.”

“My fleet insurance is A1.” He held the mug in front of his mouth. “Why’d you lie to me?”

“I just didn’t want to worry you and Mum.”

“Too late for that.” His father thrust out his jaw, half-closed his eyes and peered at him in the same way he did when an employee screwed up. “Spill the beans.”

“There was no need for you to come over. I don’t need… ”

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

“The Special Branch think I’m in the IRA.”

While resentful of his father’s brusque manner, Danny took no pleasure in watching the blood drain from his face as he told him the entire story of his arrest.

“I hope you can see why I didn’t tell you,” Danny said, after he’d finished.

His father set his mug down on the coffee table. “Jesus, you’re in some pickle. Didn’t I warn you bad things would happen if you came to London?”

“I didn’t become a drug addict or fall in with degenerates. My trouble stems from meeting an Irishman who’s accused of terrorism.” Danny paused. “Ironic,
don’t you think?”

“This is a catastrophe.” His father looked at him. “Is this lawyer any good?”

“One of the best.” Danny smiled. “He’s giving me a break on his usual fee because he’s interested in fighting this type of case. But, if the government decides to
prosecute me, he said he’d need to brief a barrister. That could get pretty expensive.”

“You need money?”

“I’m okay for now.”

“A criminal record for terrorism would ruin your life. You can’t lose if this goes to court.” His father looked out the window. “If you do need money to fight this, you
must let me know immediately.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets, his father began to jingle the change as he stared out the window again. “Inform the
solicitor you’re coming home. He can handle everything on your behalf. There’s nothing to be gained by your staying here.”

“Are you crazy? They’ll do me for absconding as well.”

“Don’t
you
be crazy.” His father slammed his fist into his palm. “Once you’re away from London, they’ll drop the whole thing. They got nothing out of
you when they interrogated you, so they know the chances are you know nothing and they’ll not be able to get a conviction. All they found was your prints on a shotgun and a couple of bags of
fertiliser. That means nothing. Any lawyer worth his salt can tear holes in that sort of charge.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“It amazes me they let you out instead of pressing charges right away, I don’t understand that one.”

He could see the sparks firing all over his father’s brain as he tried to make sense of his release. Danny didn’t say anything, merely watched as his father moved to the sofa and sat
again.

“The police never release a suspect if they have a case. Didn’t your lawyer tell you that?”

“I think he said something about that.”

“You must come home. Let the lawyer deal with them.”

“No.”

“Don’t think for a minute that they’re going to come over to Ireland after you. They’ve got better things to do with their time.”

“The police over there’ll do the work for them,” said Danny. “They’d make my life hell.”

“Not a chance.”

“They will.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. You’ve had your jaunt away. It’s time to get your life back on track.”

“I’m an adult now. Why can’t you understand that?”

“You’re young and far too inexperienced. Hasn’t this trouble you’re in shown you that?”

Their discussion was headed nowhere and Danny didn’t answer, instead searched to find something his father could relate to. His father was good at stories, liked to pepper his lessons to
employees with anecdotes from his childhood. “Hey Dad, that time you took me to the rope bridge near the Giant’s Causeway when I was a boy.”

His father thought a moment. “What about it?”

“Remember we spotted the sparrow chasing away a far bigger bird. We watched until it won.”

“It was some kind of hawk. What’s that got to do with… ”

“The sparrow was determined to defend its territory and you were impressed because it won. You told me to always stand up for myself. I didn’t do that, but now I am.”

“You’re not a sparrow.”

“I can’t fucking win.” Danny started pacing, his hands up by the sides of his face and shaking rapidly to convey his frustration. “You need to completely control my life
and… ”

“You’re acting crazy.”

“You’ve got to give me my space. You’ve got to let me sort this out my way.”

“Very rich, given what’s to be sorted.”

Danny stopped pacing and stared out the French windows. “Dad, I’ve turned out pretty good. I’ve listened to you in the big things in my life. I’ve always done as you
asked because you said you knew what was best. I graduated from a course you decided I should do. I almost married a woman you picked.”

“I know what’s best… ”

“I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. But from here on in,
I’m
going to make my own decisions. Some of them will be good. Some bad. But they’ll be
my
decisions. I’ll bear the responsibility for them. That doesn’t mean I don’t love or respect you.”

“I’d have loved it if you’d married Susan. But I accept you don’t want her. I won’t bring it up again.” He sat on the sofa and regarded Danny. “But you
have to come home. It’s where you belong. England’s not your home, son.”

“I feel at home.”

“The English don’t respect the Irish.”

“Do we respect them?”

“I
want
you home.” He rose, walked over to the dining room table and stared at the phone. “I need you to help me.”

Danny went over and laid his hand on his father’s shoulder. “It means a lot to hear that.”

“So come home.”

Danny didn’t speak.

“I need to fight this injustice. Why should I run away like I’m some criminal? You’ve always told me to stand up. It’s hawks and sparrows, Dad.”

His father buried his face in his hands for a long time. “Fair enough,” he said. “I see you’re not going to back down.” He rose out of his seat. “A wise man
knows when it’s time to ask. So I want you to promise you’ll ask for my help if you need it.”

It had taken his leaving home for Danny to understand. He was like his father. No, he wasn’t irascible or demanding like him, but still they were the same. Both loved and wanted to be
loved. Both wanted respect and to be respected. The parent-child part of their relationship was over. Their locking of horns would now be replaced by something richer and far more beneficial for
both of them.

“I promise, Dad.”

Unable to sleep, he got up even though it was only quarter to five in the morning. He showered, dressed and went downstairs. He took his coffee out into the garden and sat on
one of the ornate wicker chairs. Except for the occasional passing bus, the city was still asleep. Over the rooftops, a silvery sheen was in the eastern sky as dawn began to break. Perfume from the
late summer roses enveloped him, so strong and thick it was almost tactile. He watched the sky lighten into a pale orange as the sun began to break the night’s hold. Today would be gorgeous.
No rain or wind in the forecast. He wondered where he would be at the end of it.

When he came inside again, he could hear Julia go into the bathroom. The familiar groan of the pipes inside the back kitchen wall commenced as she turned the shower on. Half-an-hour later, she
came down with her hair still wet. She’d dressed in a sober business skirt, blouse and wore a single strand of pearls around her neck, fake pearls he knew because she’d told him.

Though he hadn’t asked, he accepted her offer to swap shifts at work so she could accompany him to his meeting with the detective. This time, it was to take place at a regular police
station, which made him feel safer. His lawyer was unable to accompany him due to a scheduling conflict requiring his appearance in court, but informed Danny if something went wrong, to immediately
call him and stop all communication with the police until he arrived.

Danny’s anxiety flourished the closer he got to the police station. Twice, he thought he was going to be sick. During the ride on the packed tube, Julia and he chatted at first and then
she settled into reading while he stared out at the posters on the walls of the passing stations, each one drawing him closer and closer.

Inside, he spoke to the custody sergeant who informed him the detective had not yet arrived. At first the sergeant attempted to prevent Julia from accompanying Danny to the interview room, but
her shiny pearls and weight of her status as an H.M.S Immigration officer came into play. Furnished with an ancient wooden desk that to Danny’s surprise had graffiti on one side, the room was
larger, more brightly lit and didn’t have a two-way mirror.

“Maybe the detective’s forgotten,” Julia said, after five minutes passed.

“Maybe it’s strategy.”

A housefly walked across the floor in fits and starts. Phones rang intermittently and he heard footsteps as policemen passed up and down the corridor.

Fifteen minutes later, Detective Tompkins entered. After he sat, he turned to Julia.

“Are you his solicitor?”

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m sure your colleagues have already told you.”

“You have to leave.”

“I want her to stay,” said Danny.

“This isn’t a hospital bedside,” the detective said. “No friends allowed. Not even pretty ones.” He arched his eyebrows at Julia and then rose to signal he would
evict her if necessary.

Julia rose and walked to the door, though stopped before opening it. “If he’s not out of here shortly, I’ll assume you’ve arrested him and will contact his lawyer
who’s on call. There’ll be no repeat of the last fiasco.”

The door closed. “Brought out the big guns, eh?”

Danny didn’t answer.

The detective sat. “Let’s cut to the chase. What’d you decide?” He splayed his elbows and rested his chin on top of his intertwined hands.

“I won’t be an informer. I’m innocent. I know nothing about the IRA and have no interest skulking around Irish pubs in London on the British government’s
behalf.”

“I didn’t put you down as a gambler.” The detective took his hands from underneath his chin and laid them on the table, sideways and half-curled.

“It’s not much of a gamble according to my lawyer.”

“All lawyers say that to their clients. If it were true, the jails would be empty.” He leaned over the desk toward Danny. “You need to reconsider.”

A hot flash whipped through Danny’s body. The moment of his arrest was here. He sat erect. “No.”

Danny peered over at the door fully expecting the custody sergeant to barge in. Nothing happened. The detective stared at him coldly for twenty seconds.

“If that’s your choice.” As the detective started to rise, the legs of his chair scraped against the tile floor. “I have to say I expected more of you, Danny.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“You’re free to leave.” He came round the desk toward him. “We had to try.”

It was over. He could scarcely believe it. Feeling as if the tiniest scrape of the chair’s legs against the floor could provoke the detective to rescind his freedom, Danny rose slowly. It
felt very awkward crossing to the door and leaving the room knowing the detective was watching him.

The flickering fluorescent tube at the end of the corridor seemed miles away. His heels resounded monstrously against the corridor tiles. A door creaked open behind him but he didn’t look
back.

As he reached the turn, the detective called out, “Hey, Danny.” His mind urged him to bolt the ten yards to the reception and beyond to the exit, but he stopped and looked over his
shoulder. “Be seeing you around, I’m sure.”

Authority always made a final threat whether justified or not. He’d learned that when dealing with his father. He passed by the reception without making eye contact with the
policewoman.

When he came out onto the sun-washed street Julia was waiting, leaning against the brick wall of the station as she puffed on a cigarette, her dangling pearls beautiful and utterly
ridiculous.