There was something more coming, Eddie knew.
‘Unfortunately, they’re gonna want to know how he came by his
bruises and all that. First thing they’re going to see. We’ll clean him up as
best we can.’
‘Just tell them the fucking truth, Tom. Why don’t you do that?’ ‘I know, I know. Just, you know, the fights, everything.’ ‘You don’t tell them about the fight, they’ll think it was murder,
won’t they?’ Eddie couldn’t believe he was the brains in this conversation.
‘Did he have any family?’
‘A wife, I think.’
‘You think? Jesus. What kind of people are you?’ Something just
occurred to him. ‘What have you done with him, Tom? You didn’t leave
him there?’ There was silence. ‘Tell me you’re joking. You left him there?’ ‘Someone will find him. More trouble than it’s worth. Maybe I
shouldn’t have told you. I can trust you with this, Eddie, can’t I?’ Eddie was walking up the short flight of steps to the door. Looking
for the key that fit the door. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. Anyway, the other reason I phoned. Sterling on the 28th. Can I
put you down for it?’ If Tom had been standing right beside him at the
moment, Eddie couldn’t have imagined what he might do to the man. He
ended the call. Put his bag down and tried to figure out the fucking keys. In the hallway, in the gloom, still a strange new place to him. He
wasn’t sure about it yet. It was hers not theirs. He made himself a coffee
and looked out at the scrap yard that pretended it was a garden. He
struggled to find anything green out there. His body was starting to hurt
again, little whispers that would turn into screams at some point during the
night. He’d hardly known the man but he’d known the fear and sadness in
the eyes as they lumbered towards each other in the ring. It was like a
death in the family. Only a few hours ago, seemed like months. Showered, shaved, new plasters on old wounds. He sat and watched
TV until it was time to go and pick her up from the hospital. Turning it off
he saw his miniature reflection, a ghost in the machine. He reflected on the
irony of it all. Everything was ironic, everything. The fates that brought
them back together again, finding losing finding again then no other option
but to stay together. Everything he wanted, wasn’t it? He had come to
Edinburgh to find her and to keep her this time. All as it should be then.
Everything in its place.
She held back from his attempted kiss. Kept her mouth firmly closed
and her eyes searched the canyons far beyond. She let him carry her bag at
least. They walked in silence across the hospital car park.
‘You want to do something tonight?’
She probably would have stabbed him if she’d had a knife to hand. He
could see the exhaustion in her eyes, in her pasty marked skin yet still he
asked these questions time and time again. They were for him, to make
everything appear normal.
They ate on the couch while the TV blared and blocked out any hope
of conversation. She left her plate on the floor and drifted off to bed. Eddie
waited up until the early hours. He listened for her every breath. She made
several trips to the toilet. At one point he thought he heard her crying but
he wasn’t sure. He could stay awake no longer and slid in quietly beside
her. And it happened as it always did. She came back to him. Moved her
body against his. Then in the morning he woke to find her hand upon his
face, her fingers tracing curious paths across the bruises.
‘Did you win this one?’
‘No. Can’t you tell by the state of my face?’
‘Oh, Eddie.’
‘Money was good though.’
He thought about telling her about Charlie but changed his mind. ‘Anyway’ was all she said about it. They didn’t discuss the fights too
much. She didn’t want to know and he didn’t want to tell her. He’d only
end up spinning old stories, promises about the next one being the last, he
was only doing it until he could find some other work. And the ugly truth
was that if he continued the way he was going, his face was going to make
him unfit for any other work. Even Edie blanched at the sight of it, even on
good days. The wounds weren’t healing properly, he wasn’t allowing them
to, that was the fact of it.
‘I don’t have to be back at the hospital for two weeks.’ She threw the
line out as if it was nothing, lifting her wet eyes to his, a child again,
wanting to be held. They made love for the first time in weeks. He was
careful, gentle with her and they lay quietly for a full hour afterwards, both
falling back into a hazy sleep.
He waited three days before showing his face to the world again. He
thought it looked pretty normal, which maybe wasn’t that normal at all.
Edie floated between euphoria and the lowest of depths. The drugs tearing
her down, keeping her under, until she finally resurfaced in a butterfly skin.
Eddie cleaned the house for her, tried to do something with the garden that
wasn’t a garden. There were rooms in the house that they never used. They
had found it, could afford it because it had belonged to Tommy Pearson’s
sister. Why he helped her she couldn’t tell, it wasn’t something he had
shown to her before. They had only been at the club for a few days before
she had given him the headache of how to replace her. But he’d visited her
in hospital, blushed as he sat by her bed, like a schoolboy with a crush that
would crush him. Eddie had stood behind him as he made his sympathies
known. Edie had been sure that behind the initial politeness would lie the
hidden blunt sword he’d pull out, tell her that he couldn’t pay her, and
certainly couldn’t wait for her to come back. All of that came,
understandably, but not in the way she expected. Of course the gig was
cancelled, of course he couldn’t afford to pay everything. But he told her to
call back in a couple of weeks, if she was feeling okay and he’d see how he
was fixed. He came back the next day, when Edie was feeling very low,
very sick and she cried at his whispered words which Eddie couldn’t hear.
Edie wouldn’t be calling back in a couple of weeks, maybe never. Eddie wasn’t going home, couldn’t. He couldn’t really tell her why.
She had no real home to go back to either. So, what choice but to stay
where they were?
The band was finished. Regret, but little real sadness apart from Rob,
clearly upset when they all sat around her bed. They’d carry on, they had little choice. No real plans as yet, find a new singer, maybe one of them could do it, but as Scotty said, no real plans. The end had been coming for a while. Only regret, maybe. She waited until they were finally gone before she wept ferocious tears. Eddie had never seen such devastation in her. He couldn’t hold her, offer her any comfort. Her energy slowly returned, she even broke out into torments of song now and again, fearful of pushing her voice in any way. Hope in little things, and most of all in not getting the news that she had been certain that the tests would reveal. A viral infection it was concluded, a name given to something they really couldn’t explain. Drugs that initially made her stronger, allowing her to leave the hospital. A call from Tommy offering her the most unexpected gift. A house of all things. His sister’s house, o
r used to be, she was going away for a while, a few months, he didn’t say where and she’d be grateful if someone could look after it. It was shambling, dust-driven dive down in a blacker part of a black town. But still they couldn’t believe it. It was cheap, and it wouldn’t
be forever.
So, three days in the house and he was ready to venture out again.
With the help of a little bit of Edie’s make-up, hiding things that would
never heal. She was well enough to enjoy a little time on her own. In the
bargain basement of a hotel kitchen he washed dishes for basically nothing.
He didn’t give Tom a ring back about the Sterling fight, figuring Tom
would understand it as a ‘no.’ Eddie knew the fight was always there if he
wanted. If he turned up on the day they’d let him fight, beg him almost and
still pay to see him lose. He worked nightshift hours, his body clock long
accustomed to it. It was like being in the bottom of a ship, there was a
constant hum, a constant terrible heat and then the air was always freezing
when he finally got out in the small hours.
The 28th came and went, Stirling came and went. No last minute
phone calls begging him to come. A part of him wanted desperately to get
the call. Wanted that needle puncture in his arm again. He broke a pile of
dishes that night, they’d take it from his wages. Quiet Eddie they called
him. Didn’t tell them he was a boxer, didn’t say nothing at all. He was
Irish, they understood that, as if that explained everything. Edie was
brighter than ever when he got home. She wasn’t asleep, she couldn’t she
said because her mind was full of ideas, she wanted to do something. Eddie
thought it was a chemical thing again but she said no. She was tired of
being tired, tired of wanting to let go. He knew what was coming, he
should have been happy for her, he was. After sex that he played little part
in, she clambered out of bed to make coffee while he craved twelve hours
of sleep. She came back and sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling at him,
talking, talking, talking until she finally let it rest. He thought he’d heard
her say it but he wasn’t sure. He was only sure when she told him again the
next morning.
‘I have a job,’ said Edie, mouth full of toast, head still full of
dreaming, scheming.
‘What do you mean you have a job? I don’t understand?’ There was a moment then that stretched to the farthest point and then
came back again.
‘You want me to sit here? In case it happens again?’
‘No. You surprised me that’s all. Is it not a bit soon though? What’s
the job?’ He thought of his own, in Hell’s kitchen, and how he would move
heaven and earth to protect her from something like that.
‘He called, really just to ask about the house.’ Eddie didn’t have to
hear anymore. Man’s, woman’s nature, call it what you like. ‘Tomorrow week. A hotel in Glasgow. Just one night. Some corporate
function or something.’ She smiled, mischievous kid smile, waiting for
approval.
‘And you think you’re up to it?’
‘Probably not but I can’t just sit around. Gives me something to work
to. I just sit here thinking it about all the time. I know you’re worried but
how much more worried can you be? What harm can it do?’
‘None, I suppose.’
‘Can you come that night? I know you’re probably working.’ ‘I’ll be there. Where else would I be?’
‘He’s a good man, really. The house, now this. I have a lot to thank
him for.’
‘Glasgow, eh? Suppose you’ll need a lift. That’s the only reason you
want me to go, isn’t it? You’ve never been too keen to let me see you sing
before’
‘I’ve never been like that. Have I? I’ve never not wanted you there.’ ‘I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t want you to see me fight.’
‘I definitely wouldn’t want to see that. Certainly not the kind of fights
you’ve had recently. You are finished with that, aren’t you?’
Eddie shook his head. Alcoholic, drug addict, gambler, ex-boxer, all
the same, never over, not really, always looking over your shoulder just in
case.
‘I hope so. You know I can’t say that’s it finished.’
‘I know.’
‘If there was nothing else, if I needed the money, I’d do it.’ ‘I know, Eddie, I wasn’t accusing you.’
A comfortable silence followed. He wouldn’t press her today. They
finished eating, they cleaned up together, took out the plastic bags to the
bins. They went to the supermarket, took it all slowly, they went for coffee,
she gazed at everything like a newborn, she gossiped about what other
women were wearing, took pleasure in the simplest things, she hummed,
drummed her fingers on the table, smiled and stopped when she caught
him looking at her. She wanted a new dress, she wanted it today and he
didn’t protest too much. She brought make-up, shoes, underwear, the glow of her face in the gloom of the rainy afternoon. They had dinner in a hotel on the Royal Mile, quiet, gloomy, she was exhausted but wanted to stay out. She’d be in bed most of the following day but what did it matter? Let
her have it.
The following day and the one after that. She re-surfaced with red raw
eyes, her former confidence just a shadow. She pulled herself up, tried on
her new clothes, stood in front of the bedroom mirror and pushed her voice
out a little.
Four days to the gig, he took her back to the club for the first time
from the side, watched her sing three, four songs that crept out of her
mouth like a nervous bird. She took a break, he didn’t ask her how she
was, just took her to lunch. She barely ate, washed her pills down with
copious water and scanned the room as if she might find some lost energy
in there. Four, five more songs in the afternoon, forcing it a little more, the
manager lurking in the room now, bringing something more out of her.
From somewhere she’d found something. She fell into bed that night, slept
till noon the next day. Eddie had to leave her today, couldn’t take much
more time off work.
Two days left, she said she was ready. She was excited, terrified
really. She would stay in bed the day before, wouldn’t talk to anybody.
Eddie kissed her as he headed to work that night, renewed himself, the
drudgery of the night ahead more bearable now. He was taking two days
off work, he told them an aunt had died, had to go back to Dublin. He
wasn’t sure that they believed him, was pretty sure he’d be replaced in his
absence. He didn’t care that much. He left the house, out into a freezing
cutting rain, he could take a bus but he’d rather walk, even in this. Streets
were desperately quiet, so anyone waiting in a doorway was more
noticeable than should have been the case. He might never have looked
back, might never have seen him. He heard the scream of a siren, looked
back across the dull road, now woken by the flashing neon, wailing
ambulance parked outside the Train Of Delights bar. The uniformed men
moved with hurried purpose through the open doors where several smokers
stood, barely moving, hardly caring ab
out whatever minor tragedy was
unfurling inside. Eddie kept watching, not able to turn away, something
about the pain of others, the threat of injury or violence in the air snaring
anyone in the vicinity. He’d hardly noticed the bar before, had no reason
to, and a glance across the tattered sign, across the tired attire of the
smokers gave him all the information he needed to know. Not somewhere
he’d likely venture into for a quiet pint.
The faces at the window, Bacon figures drawn in the heat of
heightened energy. Eddie frowned, he couldn’t make them out so how
could he imagine that he knew any of them. Faceless figures, drawn from
the crude end of the streets, the place looked a magnet for maggots, so how could he know any of them. Maybe he just recognized one or two from the bar of the hotel, they attracted similar clientele, much to Eddie’s constant disappointment. The ambulance men emerged drawing an unseen figure on a stretcher, man or woman he couldn’t tell, mask over the face, loaded quickly into the back of the vehicle. The faces at the window turned for a few seconds, looked out, following the drama until the ambulance
screamed away.
Eddie moved out into the road, no traffic to worry about, he was
running late for work, but he had to be sure. He saw the face now, it was
impossible of course. Was he that tired, was he that fucked up that he was
seeing things? All the faces had turned back, all except one. The last
remaining one was looking at Eddie, no one else to look at. Hint of a smile
on that familiar face. Eddie was so thrown that he looked behind him.
Nothing, nobody else. Manny Redmond lifted his drink and saluted Eddie
like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Eddie moved closer to the window of the bar. Manny had turned his
back on him now, turned back to his friends, if that’s who they were. It was
dark, dull, the window smeared with lack of care but it was clearly him.
Eddie headed for the door, had his hand on it, pulling it open, a scrawny
bearded little man standing there, smoking, eyes swimming, staring wide
eyed at him. Eddie took his hand away from the door, a tumble of sense
had come from somewhere. What was he planning on doing? Whatever it
was it could wait. He went back across the street, to the hotel, to his job,
cleaning, washing, thinking most of all. Trying to put a puzzle together,