Wee Rockets Read online

  "I'll give you forty quid for it."

  Mackers rummaged in his hairy ear with a thick, old man finger. He smiled an NHS smile and drummed his fingers on the bonnet of the car parked on Ballymurphy Street. Stephen wrinkled his nose at the waxy fingerprints the old boy left behind.

  "Fifty," Mackers said.

  "See you later." Stephen got out of the car and brushed past the crooked old entrepreneur.

  "Okay, son, forty it is. Come on back and don't be so huffy."

  Stephen didn't offer to shake on the deal. He handed Mackers two wrinkled twenties and settled into the driver's seat. The engine chugged for the first few yards but eventually settled into a semi-regular splutter.

  No time like the present, he thought. He decided to take the knackered motor out on its first patrol.

  The runabout bucked as he changed gear. Everything in the car seemed to rattle or clank. The radiator light blinked at random intervals. The ancient magic-tree swayed from side to side as he took corners on the narrow streets of the West Belfast housing estate. He approached the junction onto the Falls Road.

  Wee Danny and the tall prick with the sparse moustache sat on the low windowsill of the closed down chippie on Beechmount Avenue. Their seat faced an ancient IRA mural. A chained fist hovered over a badly drawn map of Ireland. The street sign set into the brick wall hosting the mural had been blackened out with spray paint. Above the deletion the words RPG Avenue were now scrawled.

  He stopped at the red light and got a good look at them. Wee Danny was smoking, which his brother Paul would be delighted to hear. The tall one nattered on about something. He punctuated whatever he said with too many hand gestures. The long, skinny arms made his movements awkward and exaggerated. But Wee Danny hung on his words. He'd mistaken Wee Danny as the ringleader earlier. The cocky wee shit's attitude had thrown him off. The tall kid was the real leader. So the tall kid had to be dealt with first. Always target the main man.

  The traffic lights turned green and Stephen moved on. Wee Danny looked his way as the Ford's engine backfired. He said something to the tall one and they both turned to stare at him. He stared back and took his time pulling out onto the road. The tall one blew him a kiss and Wee Danny laughed. Stephen shook his head and manoeuvred the runabout onto the Falls Road. A couple of hundred yards up the road he turned left into a narrow lane that led back into Beechmount. He took his time completing another circuit.

  ###

  The blare of a car horn set Joe's heart racing. He hated being so nervy. Criminal paranoia. It was bad for the body and the mind. The driver responsible waved at him. Stephen McVeigh. His piece-of-shit car rattled past.

  "He's driven past us three times now, Joe," Wee Danny said. "And he's given us the hairy eyeball every time."

  "What's he beeping at us for?" Joe asked.

  "To let us know he's watching us, I suppose," Wee Danny said.

  "Do you think he's on to us?"

  "I think he's asking questions about everybody. He's decided he's a vigilante or something."

  "Are you worried?"

  "No. Are you?"

  Joe lied. "No. Fuck away off."

  "Good." Wee Danny looked at his watch. "When are these bastards going to get here?"

  "Text Liam and see what's keeping them."

  "I've no credit."

  "Ach, fuck this then. Will we get some cider instead? I feel like getting pissed."

  "Your ma will kill you, Joe."

  "Only if she catches me. Come on. Will we just go have a drink at the park?"

  Before Wee Danny could answer, Liam Greene and three other Rockets turned the corner. They announced their arrival by yelling insults at Joe and Wee Danny.

  "So what's the plan tonight, Joe?" Liam Greene asked when the insults finally died off. His big cheeks were red from the effort of walking and talking at the same time. Joe felt an urge to slap him. Tell him to cut back on the Crispy Pancake sandwiches.

  "I fancy a wee carryout at the park."

  "After we earn a bit of cash?" Liam asked.

  "Nah. I can't be arsed running about tonight. I'm sure you'd appreciate a rest too. You must be knackered after last night."

  "Fuck up."

  Joe waited for the rest of them to quit their sniggering then said, "What about you lot? Fancy a drink?"

  The three who'd arrived with Liam looked to him for an answer. What the fuck is this? Joe thought. He glanced at Wee Danny who looked just as confused.

  "They want to do some robbing," Liam said. The others didn't look directly at Joe but they didn't disagree with the fat bastard either.

  "Can they not talk for themselves?" Wee Danny asked.

  "We did our talking in the taxi down," Liam said. "We're all in agreement."

  Joe tugged at the back of his baseball cap; the adjustable strap seemed too tight. Cold sweat ran from his armpits to the waistband of his trousers. "Are you the leader here, Liam?"

  Liam looked up into Joe's face. His eyes widened. The fat boy's cheeks jiggled when he cleared his throat. "No, Joe."

  "But you're making agreements in taxis with my gang. Sounds like you want to be the leader."

  "Look, Joe, I'm sorry."

  "What are you sorry about, Fatty? Making plans behind my back?"

  Joe took a step forward and Liam retreated. The other three moved away from him, deserted him. One of them stumbled off the kerb onto the road. Wee Danny lit a fag. On the road, a car skidded to a halt and stalled.

  "Get off the road, you stupid cunt."

  A pretty blonde with a rough country accent poked her head out the window of her car. A student from St Mary's Teacher's College on the Falls Road by the look of her. Her little Clio had stopped just inches from the shocked Rocket. The tension broke as Wee Danny pointed and laughed exaggerated hee-haws at the angry student. She rolled up her window and shook her head as she gunned the engine. They cheered when she got it going on her second attempt. The cheer rose as she spun off and jumped a red light at the junction.

  "Stupid bitch," Wee Danny said.

  Joe nodded and pointed at Wee Danny's fag. His little mate passed him the shrinking butt and he pulled hard on it. Liam didn't speak. Joe blew smoke towards him.

  "So you can keep your mouth shut."

  Liam shrugged.

  Joe stomped the ground in front of him. Liam flinched at the sudden movement. His chubby cheeks burned red. Thank fuck, Joe thought, he's not up for a scrap.

  "Chill out, Liam," Joe said. "We're all mates here, aren't we?"

  Liam nodded then stared at his own feet. Joe's heart slowed its roll. He was in charge again. He didn't want to be, but he wouldn't be phased out of his position by Liam Greene. People didn't forget that kind of thing. Show weakness and you're fucked.

  "Here's the rest of them now," Wee Danny said. He put a finger and a thumb in his mouth and whistled loud enough to hurt Joe's ear. One of the other four whistled back. They carried blue plastic bags weighed down by what had to be three-litre bottles of cider. Barrack Busters. Another decision taken from Joe's hands. But he let this one slide. When the whole gang was together, Joe took control of the situation.

  "No one will annoy our heads at the park," he said. "If we drink on the street we'll have to keep moving about. I just want to sit still."

  "Right, let's go then," Danny said. "I'm gasping for a drink now."

  Liam didn't throw in an opinion. Good, Joe thought, remember your place.

  Dunville Park, their favored haunt, wasn't far from Beechmount. Five or ten minutes at an idle pace. It was smaller than the Falls Park which lay further up the road from Beechmount, but that way was all uphill and the older kids usually took all the best spots. Dunville Park was less concealed, but for a small group it did the job. They rarely got moved on from the swings and benches at night time. It was accepted that kids had to drink somewhere. Better the park than a residential street corner.

  Joe leaned against the frame of the swings. He held a plastic bottle of cider
in one hand and picked at the peeling primary colour paint on the swing's frame with the other. Wee Danny twirled on one of the intact swings. The chains scrunched as they twisted together. Liam worked on wrapping another swing around the crossbar. He took sips of cider in between. The rest of the gang were scattered about the recreational area. Some sat around the huge terracotta fountain and others lay on the grass. Because it was summer they would be undisturbed until ten o'clock. Then a council jobsworth would lock up for the night. When the park keeper was gone, they'd scale the fence back in.

  The late evening air blew warm and the smell of exhaust fumes from the Falls Road traffic cleared a little. Joe sucked up the moment. The cider buzz, friends in good humour, nothing to dread in the morning, bright nights in a little city. The sweet life.

  "This is fucking great, isn't it?" Wee Danny said.

  Joe laughed. "You must have read my mind, mate."

  "Fruits," Liam said.

  Wee Danny spat a tobacco-spotted green gob. It missed Liam's head by inches. Liam made a kissy-face at him.

  "Fuck up, Liam," Joe said. "If you want to be a fucking moan, go away on home to your ma."

  "Sorry, Joe."

  The fat fucker had obviously gotten in over his head earlier. He wasn't keen to repeat the experience. But Wee Danny didn't want to let it lie.

  "You didn't say sorry to me, Fatso."

  "Why should I, Frodo?"

  "Who the fuck's Frodo?" Wee Danny asked.

  "Ach, you're a stupid bastard. He's that wee dwarf out of Lord of the Rings."

  "Hobbit, Liam," Joe said.

  "What?"

  "Frodo's a hobbit. The dwarf's the one with the long beard."

  "Whatever. He's still a shortarse."

  Wee Danny hopped off the swing. Liam didn't back down.

  "Well, we don't call you Wee Danny because you're a fucking giant, like. You're a tiny wee shrimp. Probably have a wee, small dick to match."

  "Keep talking, Fatso," Wee Danny said. "You're making this very fucking easy for me."

  "You couldn't beat the deuce of clubs without Joe behind you."

  "Is that right, dickhead?"

  "Why don't you show me different?"

  Joe's stomach clenched. In just seconds, the perfect summer moment had turned sour. It looked like he was set to referee a scrap. Liam, stupid fucker that he was, was headed for a serious kicking. After that they'd never get back the mellow atmosphere he'd been enjoying. But what could he do? If he stepped in now it'd look like Wee Danny couldn't stand up for himself.

  "Are you sure you want to do this, Liam?" Joe asked, knowing what the answer had to be. Fuck it, it was worth a try.

  "Fucking right I do. This wee dick thinks he's hard as nails. I'd love to hammer him."

  "What about you, Danny?"

  "I'm going to wreck this cunt."

  Joe sighed and twisted the cap back on to his bottle.

  "Fine, then. Try and keep it kind of clean."

  Chapter 2

  Louise Philips blinked back the threat of a tear. She pulled the spoon from her cup of tea, tapped it on the edge of the pure white mug and sat it on a saucer in the middle of the table.

  "What's wrong, Louise?"

  Louise jerked her gaze from the teaspoon on the saucer. Karen Magee stood in her usual place in the immaculate kitchen. She leant against her glossy worktop within hand's reach of the stainless steel sink and the white larder. Louise had already turned down an M&S biscuit, but Karen would stand there until one of them decided to give in to temptation. They followed the same routine every time Louise visited her friend.

  Karen lived across the street. She had a degree and a good job but she'd stayed in Beechmount to look after her mummy. The poor wee woman couldn't open a tin of beans for herself because of her arthritis. Louise didn't know where her friend got the time between running errands for her mummy and working in the city to keep her house so clean. Too clean. Can't get comfortable clean.

  "How's your mummy?" Louise asked.

  "Don't change the subject. You near wore out that spoon you were stirring your cuppa so long. Something's up."

  Louise sighed. "I'm worried about Joe."

  Karen tutted. The sound of it pulled at the knot in Louise's upper back.

  "What's he done now?"

  "Ach, don't be like that."

  "Sorry, but he's putting years on you, Louise."

  Louise looked down into her cup. The tears rolled. Karen made one of her clucky apology noises. She left her spot by the sink and bent to hug Louise. They stayed like that until Louise patted Karen's back. Karen glanced at the damp patch on the shoulder of her navy work suit jacket but didn't complain. Louise felt bad about soaking it. Hope it's not dry clean only, she thought.

  Karen handed her a piece of kitchen roll and pulled out the chair opposite. Louise reached across the wee table and grasped Karen's hand.

  "I always thought Joe would be nothing like his daddy. Dermot fucked off so long ago Joe doesn't even remember him. Never asks about him either. I don't think he knows what he looks like. I've a few photos of us all but I never offered to show them to Joe and he's never asked if I have any. But he just looks so much like him and I think I might be too hard on him because of that. But I don't know what the wee boy is up to because I can't be on his back all the time, and he's probably doing nothing wrong at all, but Dermot was such a bad bastard and I was so stupid and..."

  "Louise. Slow down. What are you trying to say?"

  "Did you hear about Missus McKinney last night?"

  Karen blessed herself, a rapid up, down, left, right led by her middle finger. "Oh Jesus, that was awful. How many aul dolls is that now?"

  "One's too many."

  Karen gasped. "Wait a minute. You don't think your Joe has anything to do with them muggings, do you?"

  Louise shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again.

  "You don't but you do?"

  Louise nodded.

  "What even put the thought in your head?"

  "He's never at home."

  "He's a teenager. How do you know he's not just out smoking or sneaking a wee drink of cider?"

  "That's it. I don't. But I've no way of knowing for sure."

  "Is that all the evidence you have?"

  "Well, no, not really. New stuff keeps turning up in his bedroom. Clothes and DVDs. And he hasn't asked me for money in ages. I give him pocket money but he used to ask for a top up every week."

  "Maybe he's selling a bit of blow."

  "That's possible I suppose. I'd rather he was doing that than robbing pensioners in the street, but... God, I don't know."

  Louise fought the urge to puke on her best friend's immaculate kitchen floor. Her stomach shunted itself into her throat and her mouth watered. She pulled in deep breaths and surfed the wave of nausea until it passed. Then she looked her friend in the eyes.

  "Do you think I could have one of those biscuits now, Karen?"

  ###

  Liam froze as Wee Danny rushed him. He watched the first punch sail through the air. White light flashed. His head snapped back. Before he fully understood he'd just been hit, Wee Danny's left fist split his lip. He stepped back. Wee Danny followed. The others cheered. Liam raised his hands. Wee Danny sidestepped and hit him with another punch.

  "Stop it!" Liam's voice squeaked. Somebody laughed.

  Wee Danny hit him again. Liam couldn't even see the punches coming. Tears blurred his vision. He stepped back again. The world tilted and he was on his back. The setting sun coloured the clouds blood red. Liam instinctively covered his head and rolled into a fetal position. He waited for the kicks to rain in.

  "Okay, Danny," It was Joe's deep voice, "You've proved your point. Leave him alone."

  Some of the spectators booed. His so-called friends. Booing because he didn't get hospitalised. Liam opened his guard and peeked through his arms. A Nike Air trainer filled the gap. Pain exploded in his nose.

  "Danny! I said that's e
nough. Back off!"

  "I'm going to kill the fat fucker."

  "You don't kick a mate when he's down. Not even Liam."

  Liam kept his face protected until the sounds of a struggle ended. Wee Danny had been restrained. He wiped tears and blood from his face with the sleeves of his white hoodie. It was ruined. His dad would kill him for losing a fight. Unless he told him he was jumped by three guys. And he fought off two of them. He'd get one of the Fegan twins to corroborate.

  Already his left eye was swelling shut. Bruises made you look hard. At least the kicking had that small silver lining. Respect from strangers he'd pass on the street. He poked at his inflated eyelid and snapped his hand back again. He looked at his attacker. Joe gripped the wee bastard in a bear hug. Wee Danny muttered reassurances that the fight was over.

  "You're a fucking psycho," Liam said. He struggled to keep his voice steady.

  Wee Danny laughed and Joe loosened his grip on him. The smaller boy's hands went straight to his pockets. Seconds later a lit fag hung from his lips. It was over. Liam tried to hide his relief.

  They drank. The fight excitement faded. The group relaxed. Then they drank some more.

  Half an hour later, Liam picked flakes of dried blood from his nostrils. He'd drunk enough cider to numb the physical and emotional pain. The constant replay of how badly he'd been beaten faded to the back of his head. If he hadn't swallowed his pride the others would have lost even more respect for him. Storming off was for girls. Huffing on a carryout was a mortal sin. He gulped down another mouthful of cider. Then he stood up, waited for his balance to catch up with him, and walked over to where Wee Danny and Joe shared a bottle. They were rapping along to a G-Unit tune playing from Wee Danny's Motorola.

  He coughed when the mini hip hop performance finally ended. Wee Danny looked up at him and tensed. He was ready to go again. Liam wasn't. He extended his hand and tilted his spinning head.