Wee Rockets Read online

  "I'm already loopy. The whole nothing-means-anything world is loopy. We're not even strapped in. Just wandering around on this merry-go-round like we're not going to fall off it some day and go hurtling towards the sun. Or a black hole. Fuck. Imagine that. Looping the loop in a black hole."

  Joe clicked on. "He's smoked a shitload of grass, hasn't he?"

  Matt and Eddie nodded.

  "When? Was he stoned at the wake?"

  "Not that I know of," Eddie said. "We duked down an alley and shared a spliff not long after leaving Tommy's house. Liam hogged it though. He'll probably whitey."

  "Ach, for fuck's sake," Wee Danny said. "We'll get fuck all craic out of him tonight."

  "I think he's entitled to it," Matt said. "He saw Tommy die."

  "Oh." Wee Danny pulled his fags from the pouch on the front of his hoodie. He tossed one towards Liam, landing it on his lap. "Sorry, Liam. I never thought..."

  Liam moved in slow motion. He picked up the fag, held it at eye level and smiled. Then he tucked it behind his ear. His face went slack for a moment, then he slapped his own jaw. "You got a smoke, Danny?"

  Wee Danny tilted his head back and looked down his nose. "Are you fucking with me?"

  Liam blinked slowly and smiled. "Yeah." He turned to the twins. "I could smoke either one of you under the table. Whitey? Me? Fuck off."

  The mood lifted after that and before long the other four Rockets arrived. They brought a new energy with them and kicked off the stories about Tommy. The more the gang laughed the quicker they drank and the bottles emptied fast.

  "Let's get more," Joe said.

  "We could do that," Liam said, "or we could have some of this shit." He waggled a small cellophane baggie of grass at Joe. "Let's have a few joints in honour of our fallen comrade."

  Most of the boys cheered. Joe didn't.

  "That doesn't seem right to me, mate."

  Liam squinted at Joe. "Why not?"

  "Tommy wasn't a toker, Liam. He didn't even smoke fags."

  "Fuck off."

  "No, that's right," Danny said. "It would have fucked with his asthma."

  Liam threw an irritated glance at Wee Danny then turned his attention back on Joe. "I don't remember him not smoking."

  Joe had been avoiding Liam's eyes all night. He'd thought it the best way to avoid an imagined accusation over Tommy's accident. Now Joe fastened on Liam's red-rimmed eyes and matched his cold stare. "He didn't make a big deal about it. I guess you never noticed."

  "Never noticed? Me and Tommy Four-Eyes were best mates."

  "Ach fuck off, would you? You used to torture the poor wee lad."

  "It was only a bit of banter. He gave as good as he got."

  "Whatever you say, Liam."

  "Didn't he give up his own life to save me? If I was such a bully then why would he do that?"

  "Is that why you phoned me crying your lamps out about how it was all your fault?"

  Liam lifted his empty Buckfast bottle and threw it. Joe flopped to the side. The heavy glass bottle glanced off his upper arm. Wee Danny jumped up and went for Liam. The twins went to Liam's side, fists raised. Joe clambered to his feet and put a hand on Wee Danny's shoulder.

  "It's all right, Danny. Leave it be."

  "Fat fucking wanker. He needs another hiding. Teach him a bit of respect."

  "Leave it, mate."

  "That's right," Liam said. "You're not one of us anymore, you fucking dwarf. You neither, Joe. We've got on just fine without the pair of you. Better in fact."

  "Just chill out, Liam. We're here to remember Tommy, not to fight."

  "Really, Joe? Seems to me you forgot about us all pretty soon after you left the gang. One of us had to die before we got so much as a phone call."

  The other four now stood behind Liam and the twins. Joe and Wee Danny were no longer one of them. They'd left the gang and lost their loyalty. Getting home in one piece became Joe's top priority. To do that he'd have to keep his simmering mate under control. He leant in to Wee Danny and asked him to be cool with a hurried whisper. Wee Danny nodded but maintained his aggressive stare.

  "Okay, we've all had a bit to drink and a very fucked up day. I don't want this to get out of control. Me and Danny will just head on and leave you guys to it. Smoke your brains out. I shouldn't have said anything."

  Liam, confident and cocky in his new position of command, smiled. "Aye, you should have kept your gob shut. We were happy to have a drink with you for old time's sake, but you had to fuck that up. Bounce. And take your wee boyfriend with you."

  Joe wrapped his arms around Wee Danny and strained to hold him back. The wee pit bull was stronger than he looked.

  "Come on, Danny, relax. We can't win this."

  "Maybe not." Wee Danny spat the words through bared teeth. "But I can get a few digs into that fat cunt before I go down."

  "Leave it, mate. We'll get our chance another day, okay?"

  Wee Danny relaxed and Joe loosened his iron grip. "Fuck these wankers. We can drink at my place, Joe."

  The long walk to the park gates was made longer by the jeers of the Rockets.

  ###

  Danny felt his skin turn red every time he thought about Liam Greene. The fat fucker had turned on him and Joe faster than a starved dog. Humiliated them. It'd be a long time before he forgot about that. But if nothing else, his anger at Liam had taken his mind off Tommy Murray. Until his ma started yapping on about the funeral.

  "You'll have to borrow a tie off our Paul, son."

  "Sure I've got my school tie."

  "Catch yourself on, wee lad. You're not showing me up at this funeral with your raggedy Corpus Christi tie. Get over to Paul's house now and find out if he has a spare one. And make sure it's black."

  Danny was too familiar with that tetchy tone of voice and he wasn't stupid enough to protest any further. Muttering, he tugged his red Nike hoodie on and hit the street. Drizzly rain instantly coated his face. Typical Irish summer. Scorching sun for a couple of days then the clouds opened up for twice as long. It was a nuisance. Sheltered drinking haunts were far harder to come by. He lit a fag and cupped his hand around it to keep it dry.

  Paul lived just two streets away but Danny slowed his pace, giving himself time to enjoy the entire fag. He flicked the butt before rapping on Paul's door. The bluish flicker of the TV danced on the living room blinds, drawn to cut out the glare on the screen. Nobody came to the door. Usually Wee Owen would be bouncing off it, half wetting himself to see who had come and what they'd brought for him. He tried the handle and the door swung open. The bass rumble of movie dialogue travelled into the hall.

  "Paul?"

  "I'm in here."

  Danny realised he'd been holding his breath. He let out a lungful of air. In the living room, Paul sat in his pyjamas watching a black and white film on one of the free movie channels. Beer tins littered the floor around his feet. The room smelt of Chinese takeaway.

  "You having a wee party in here or something?"

  "Sort of." Paul glanced at the floor. "There might be a full tin amongst that lot if you want one."

  "It's a bit early, Paul. Not even twelve. I only got out of bed half an hour ago."

  "I thought you young ones were more hardcore than that."

  "Have you not been to bed?"

  "Nah, I had a wee doze here. I was getting caught up on some TV time now that I finally have the house to myself."

  "Where's Sinead and the child?"

  "Don't know, mate."

  "What?"

  "We had a fight on Thursday night. I stormed out. By the time I came back she'd packed a bag and gone."

  "Fuck. Have you not tried calling her or anything?"

  "Are you kidding me? I've been waiting for a break like this for ages. I'm not wasting the opportunity. I phoned in sick yesterday and I'm just going to take a wee holiday by myself until she decides to come home."

  Danny couldn't believe Paul's attitude. The guy looked like he hadn't a care in the world.
It was nice to see him that way. "Fair fucks to you, mate."

  "Cheers. I have to admit though..."

  "What?"

  "I'm quite impressed with Sinead. I always thought she'd be too lazy to leave me."

  Danny got a tie off Paul and promised not to tell their ma about Sinead. Before talking to his brother, he'd been wound up tighter than a spring. Joe talking him into giving up the gang, Tommy dying, Liam doing everything he could to push his buttons. Everything had turned upside-down. But Paul had found a bright side to his wife and child leaving him. He could do the same.

  At home, he held the tie over his head like an Indian warrior presenting a scalp to his chief. His ma nodded approval and went back to ruining lunch. He threw the tie over the banister for safekeeping and bounded up the stairs. His ma shouted after him, complaining about elephant herds and heavy feet, but Danny's buzzing mind had no room for hangover consideration. He'd gotten beyond anger and frustration and had found his silver lining. Now he needed to phone Joe.

  "Yeah?"

  "You sound like you're still in bed, you lanky string of piss."

  "All right, Danny? What's the craic?"

  "I've been thinking about last night."

  "Ach, mate, just forget about it. Liam's a wanker, and if the rest of them want to lick his balls we're better off without them."

  "Aye, I know."

  "So why are you calling me at this time of the morning?"

  "It's lunchtime, you lazy bastard. Get out of your scratcher."

  "Just tell me what you want."

  "I want to meet your da."

  "What? Why?"

  "Because he sounds like the kind of guy I'd like to work for."

  Chapter 13

  Nothing drew the crowds like a child's funeral. Even a scummy wee fourteen-year-old thug of a child.

  Stephen didn't look out of place standing at the back of the chapel. The pews had been jam-packed when he'd arrived at St Paul's and now the aisles were filling up. His spot by the big wooden double-door gave him the best view of the mourners, both seated and arriving. He thought he'd be able to tell the Rockets from the nosy schoolmates. The palest, nerviest kids would top his list of suspects. Those with fascinated and darting eyes would be crossed off.

  One of the first kids Stephen noticed sat close to the back. At every creak of the main door's hinges, his head swivelled on a thick neck spilling over a stiff white collar. Stephen remembered the cheeky fat fucker giving him lip the Saturday after poor wee Missus McKinney got mugged. Joe and Wee Danny Gibson had come along and saved the dickhead from a good punch in the head that day. He made a mental note to ask Joe about him.

  According to Louise's text an hour ago, she'd be attending the funeral with Joe. He wasn't surprised that he couldn't spot her in the crowd. Running late came easy to her. She seemed to enjoy it. At this stage she'd be spending the service outside in the rain. She'd forget her umbrella too.

  The people in front of him obscured his view of the white coffin at the top of the aisle and that was fine. He wasn't there to pay his respects. The little scumbag didn't deserve his sympathy, but Stephen couldn't help but feel bothered by the sight of a coffin that size. Whether or not the wee lad deserved it, he still found the scene depressing.

  The organ accompanied the sullen choir and tears rolled. The priest's rumbling voice bounced around the chapel walls. Stephen fidgeted. He checked his watch at five minute intervals, bored now that he couldn't scope out prospective targets. He was eager for the service to end so he could get out into the air and get a good look at the guilty-faced kids. Especially any gravitating towards Joe's fat friend. He bowed his head respectfully and yawned into his hand. As soon as the queues to receive communion formed, he slipped out into the fresh air.

  "Stephen!" Louise waved at him with more enthusiasm than the occasion called for. She didn't seem to notice the dirty look from the biddy beside her. Joe loomed to her right, dressed in new trousers that actually met his shoes. But even in the funeral-standard black tie and white shirt his hassled teenage face dashed his best chance at looking smart. He scratched at his head, obviously missing his baseball cap. Stephen plastered on a smile for Louise's benefit as he fantasised about shaking Joe until his teeth chattered.

  "Hiya, Louise. Did you get held up?"

  She smirked, "Yeah. What am I like? I'd be late for my own fu..." The sentence drifted off. She glanced at Joe then turned back to Stephen. "Anyway, it's a huge turnout, isn't it?"

  "Aye. Must have been a popular kid."

  Joe grunted.

  Stephen ignored him. "What do you say we make our way up to the City Cemetery? It's hardly raining at all now and we'll be there before the hearse if we get a bit of a head start."

  Louise scraped her fingers through her damp hair. "Aye, we might as well."

  "Can I stop off at ours and get changed?" Joe asked. "This tie's choking me."

  "No you can not. Catch a grip. Just wait until after Tommy's been buried."

  The disapproving biddy cleared her throat. Stephen nodded to her but Louise focussed on Joe, waiting to shut down any argument he might make.

  "Right, okay," Joe said.

  On their way up the road, Stephen could feel Joe's eyes on the back of his head. The lanky teenager straggled behind to avoid conversation. Stephen reached out for Louise's hand just to wind the bastard up. She squeezed his fingers and smiled at him. His chest hitched a little. He gave her a wink and raised her knuckles to his lips and almost forgot about Joe.

  Typically schizophrenic, the sun put on its happy face and chased away the rain. Stephen shrugged off his jacket and carried it over his shoulder but suppressed the urge to whistle. The three of them instinctively slowed their pace, making the most of the brief summery moment. The City Cemetery gate came into view, and much too soon they passed through it and found the freshly dug hole.

  Louise nudged him. "Oh, there's Missus Morgan from the bakery. I'll have to go say hello or she'll take the hump with me. I'll be as quick as I can."

  Stephen checked out her sway as she joined a bit of mutton in lamb's clothing for a chinwag. No time to waste, he turned to Joe.

  "So this Tommy fellah was a mate of yours, then?"

  Joe took a moment to compose a poker face. "Aye."

  "He was a scumbag, though."

  Joe's nostrils flared. His lips barely moved as he spoke. "I've met worse."

  "I fucking bet you have."

  Joe looked away. The muscles in his jaw flexed.

  "In fact, I reckon you can help me, Joe. I'd like to meet a couple of these worse scumbags you know. Actually, I'd be interested in meeting a gang of them."

  "Fuck off."

  "You see, that's a normal answer in this situation, and I can respect that. But I don't have time to pussyfoot around you. So here's the deal. You give me the name of that fat kid I've seen you hanging about with right now, and I'll leave you alone. If you don't, I'm going to take you up here tonight and bury you beside the Murray kid. A grave this fresh will be a cinch to dig. Easy-fucking-peasy."

  Stephen glanced over his shoulder to see Louise still deep in conversation with Missus Morgan. He felt happy with the way things were going. Then he saw Joe's face. The kid's smart mouth curved into a smirk.

  "That's all you want? His name? Sure you could ask anybody on Beechmount that. Anybody that matters, like."

  "I don't want it from anybody. I want it from you."

  "And then we're quits?"

  "For now."

  "What about my ma?"

  "She's a great shag."

  Joe's smirk slipped for a second and Stephen relished it. But it returned, and seemed genuine. "Whatever. I've seen the way you look at her. You like her. As soon as I can, I'll make sure she dumps you."

  "Like I give a fuck about that Millie cunt."

  Joe glanced over Stephen's shoulder and raised his eyebrows. "Hiya, ma."

  Stephen's stomach flip-flopped and he turned on his heel, already anticipating a
slap from Louise. She still stood where he'd last seen her, smoking a fag with her workmate.

  Joe chuckled.

  By some miracle, Stephen reigned in a burst of white-hot rage and restrained himself from stomping Joe into the ground. He hissed through his teeth. "You little fucker. You'll regret that."

  "Mate, quit talking like you're in a movie. Fucking relax, okay?" Joe patted his pockets and located his phone. "Have you got your mobile with you?"

  "Why?"

  "The sleeked fat fucker I used to chum about with is called Liam Greene. I'm going to give you his phone number."

  Stephen could feel the onset of a migraine. "What for?"

  "I'm sure it'll come in useful. And Wee Danny is going to love me when I tell him."

  From behind, Stephen heard a hurried clip-clopping and took a deep breath. Blood pumped through his muscles, but he tried to relax them. Louise tapped his elbow.

  "God, I thought she was never going to stop talking. Were you okay without...? Are you boys swapping numbers? Ach, that's brilliant."

  Joe gave her a big, goofy grin. "Aye. Turns out we've more in common than we thought. Isn't that right, Stevie?"

  A cold raindrop hit the back of Stephen's neck and he raised his eyes to the black clouds above. The heavens opened up and pelted down on them. Louise nodded towards the gate at the bottom of the cemetery's hill. The hearse crept up the path, window wipers swishing.

  "Typical, eh?" Louise said. "The day was just starting to look up."

  ###

  Dermot saw Joe and his friend before they saw him. As he approached the entrance to the Movie House cinema on the Dublin Road, the teenagers leant into each other, shielding a lighter's flame from the wind. It always amused him when kids befriended their physical polar opposites. The phenomenon tended to highlight the negative aesthetics, rather than the positive. Joe looked too tall and awkward and his little mate appeared malnourished and weak. They both looked like fish out of water.

  "How's the lads?" Dermot bellowed his greeting to give them a start. It worked.

  They turned as one, ready to face a threat. Joe blinked then laughed.

  "Hiya, da."