Dance With the Dead by James Nally

Author:James Nally
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008150884
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Arsenal, North London

Tuesday, April 6, 1993; 21.00

On the way home, we slipped into the refreshingly unfussy Plimsoll pub on St Thomas Road to discuss a more pressing matter.

‘What the hell is Da doing over here?’ I asked.

‘He says it’s best that we don’t know, which has my alarm bells ringing, I’ve got to admit.’

‘Ma won’t pick up, which is worrying the hell out of me. She knows something, I can tell. It’s got to be something to do with the “beardos”, hasn’t it?’ I said, using our code for Da’s pals in Sinn Fein/IRA.

Fintan leaned in closer. ‘I asked him, straight out, “is what you’re doing here going to land me or Donal in the shit?” and he swore on his mam’s grave that it wouldn’t. And you know when he swears on that, he means it. All he’ll say is it’s political but nothing dangerous or illegal.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’

‘It’s got to be connected to these secret peace talks. What else can it be?

‘Why don’t they put him in a hotel then?’

Fintan sighed and raised conciliatory eyebrows. ‘He says he promised Ma he’d stay with us … and that he’d try to patch things up with you.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘At least give him a chance Donal. Jesus. He’s a proud man.’

He fidgeted. ‘Okay, failing that, try for Ma’s sake.’

I shrugged.

‘Good man,’ he said, ‘I tell you what though, he’s useless around the house. He’s driving me mad. He keeps peering over my shoulder when I’m cooking and telling me ‘that’s done’ or ‘that needs another minute’. He leaves everything out, and open. There are currently three butchered cartons of sour milk sitting on the worktop.’

‘Whatever he’s up to, Fintan, he can’t stay at ours. I’m a policeman, for God’s sake. Some of his beardo pals would have me shot.’

‘Yeah, but like I told you, he says he can’t go anywhere where he has to book in.’ Fintan sighed. ‘Look, I’m working on it. I should have something sorted by tomorrow, so you just need to act civilised to him tonight, okay?’

I shrugged again.

He finished his pint. ‘Come on, let’s head. I don’t like leaving the old fecker there on his own. There’s a good chance he’ll burn the place down.’

‘You go. I’m staying here.’

‘Ah, Donal …’

‘I just can’t talk to him,’ I said, ‘and that’s that.’

I picked up a couple of bottles of wine on the way home, and took my time doing it.

Da had always been an Olympic-standard drinker and sleeper, rarely making it beyond 11pm. As the church bells chimed midnight, I guessed that the coast would be clear and strolled home.

I crept silently through the front door into the hallway. Now I just needed to open both bottles and make it to my bedroom.

‘Well,’ came his standard taciturn greeting from the sitting room.

My heart bulged and that aching dread returned. What if he’s pissed? What if he starts?

‘Well,’ I said back, and walked on to the kitchen. I opened a bottle and turned to find him standing at the door.

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