Prologue #9
“John-Francis, aye? Colm and Mary Ayres’s boy?”
I froze, cold with dread. “Aye, that’d be me.”
“I’d be doubtin’ we’d ever met before, but I knew ya ma well. She and I met at the fair, mercy, maybe thirty year ago?”
“Aye,” I replied, gaze narrowing with suspicion. “And?”
The woman’s face grew grave. “I’d be sorry t’ be hearin’ ‘bout ya ma’s passin’. Terrible business, that.”
I felt the blood drain from my face, nausea overcoming me once again. “Ma’s dead?”
The woman’s face crumpled with horror. “Y’didn’t know? Ah, son, I’m sorry, now. I didn’t realise—”
I sat down heavily on the tow bar of the caravan, scrubbing a hand through my hair. “We’d not be keepin’ in touch, like. Shite… What happened? D’ya know?”
The woman hesitated before answering. She knew and by the expression on her face, it was something terrible.
“Spit it out, now,” I snapped. “I deserve t’ know.”
“Ya da. He’d too many drinks in him last time he was here. Beat ya ma senseless, so he did. The ambulance crew did all they could, but it was a bleed on the brain, see. There was nothin’ they could do.”
I was numb, my ears ringing. Da. Da had killed her. I’d always known he was capable of it, but…
“And Da?”
“The filth picked him up. Haven’t seen nor heard a peep since, now.”
I ground my teeth together. Prison was too good for that fucking animal. I dropped my head into my hands, throat aching as I fought against my tears.
“Listen, I just came by t’ tell ya that ya da’s van and the caravan are still hitched up over at the other site. Logic says they belong t’ yourself now, aye?”
I swiped my nose on my sleeve. “Aye, guess so.”
“I’m sorry t’ be the one t’ tell ya, son,” she murmured, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. “Ya ma was a good woman. Such a wee shame she married a monster.”
Wasn’t that the truth. I nodded, muttering my farewells to the woman. I sat there on the towbar, staring into space for an age and eventually, I spotted Declan making his way over to me. His face was drawn with worry, knowing something was wrong without me having to say a word.
“‘Bout ya? What’s the craic?”
“Me ma’s dead,” I said, voice cracking. “One o’ her wee mates from around these parts just told me, like. I hadn’t heard, yourself?”
“Nah, feck. I’d have told ya if I had, now.” Declan ran a hand through his hair. “Shite. I’m sorry, fella. What happened?”
“Me da.”
I didn’t need to say anything else. Declan knew exactly what I was saying. He froze, the same rage and disgust rolling off him that I felt from myself.
“That feckin’ prick,” he hissed. “Y’coddin’ me?”
I shook my head, staring at the gravel under my feet. I sucked in a breath, sitting up a little straighter. “His wheels and the caravan are still here – over at the other hitchin’ spot, so I’m told, now.”
Declan was silent for a long moment. “Y’wanna swing by and pick it up? She’s yas now, aye?”
When I didn’t respond, my mate leant his shoulder against the caravan.
“Or we say ‘feck it’ and I’ll help ya torch it,” he continued, voice low. “Whatever y’wanna do, fella.”
I had to admit the idea of burning every last scrap to the ground was appealing, but somehow it felt like a cop out.
I needed to face those demons. I wanted to return to the place it all started and make my peace with it.
After that? I’d see how I felt. Maybe a wee bonfire would still be on the cards.
I got to my feet and met Declan’s gaze. “Let’s go take a wee look, now. Y’drivin’?” I tossed him the keys to the van, before turning and beginning to unhook the caravan from the tow bar.
“Aye, no bother, fella.”
Once the van was untethered, Declan and I climbed into the cab and headed out onto the country lanes.
Appleby was only a wee place, and it took all of ten minutes to get to the other hitchin’ site.
It was a route I knew all too well from the years I’d spent going back and forth here with my parents as a wain.
As we turned in, passing through a set of iron gates, my palms grew sweaty.
“Y’any idea where she’d be parked up, like?” Declan asked, slowing the van and glancing left to right in search of the caravan.
I nodded. “Aye. It’ll be where me da always hitched it. Keep on goin’, now. t’ the back.”
Declan did as I said and as the van swung around at the end of the long, gravel driveway, I spotted my family caravan.
From the outside it looked much the same, albeit a little dirtier than I was used to seeing it.
My ma had been meticulous about scrubbing the thing floor to ceiling, inside and out.
To see the dark smudges of algae down the sides of the pale plastic spoke a thousand words.
Declan parked up, turning off the ignition. We simply sat in silence for a moment, staring at the caravan.
“Y’got a wee set o’ keys f’her?” he asked.
“Nah, but I’d bet me arse that the spares are still hidden under the wheel arch.”
I opened the door, stepping out and heading over to the caravan.
Inside was gloomy and silent, haunted by dark memories.
I hunted around beneath the arch of one of the wheels, fingers finding the spare set of keys glued there almost immediately.
I pulled them free, slotted them into the lock, and pushed it open.
I hesitated at the doorway, frozen to the spot as I battled with myself.
What would I find inside? Is this where that monster had pummelled my ma to death?
Had the evidence been cleaned up, or would I still see her blood spatter on the walls?
“Y’want me t’ go on ahead f’ya?” Declan asked at my back.
I sagged with relief and stepped aside. I didn’t need to say anything, my mate hefting himself up and cautiously stepping inside. He flicked the lights, but the caravan remained dark. The battery had long since run flat.
Declan disappeared from view, and I stood still and silent, barely breathing as I awaited Declan’s assessment of the state on the place. A moment or two later, he was poking his head back out.
“Neat as a feckin’ pin it is, fella,” he said. “I’d be doubtin’ anyone lived here if I didn’t know better.”
I climbed up to join Declan, glancing around the familiar caravan. It was jarring to be standing here after all this time. This place had once been my entire world, and yet now I stood here as a grown man, feeling like a stranger.
Declan was right, the place was fixed up like a show home.
It was only when I began looking through cabinets that I realised why.
Someone had been in here and cleared the place out.
All my family’s belongings were gone, every cupboard empty.
There wasn’t even a speck of dust left behind…
but there was one spot I was certain they’d have missed.
With Declan watching me curiously, I opened up one of the lower cabinets in the kitchenette and with a grunt of effort, I pushed against the back panel.
It came free and I fished around in the cavity until I found just what I was looking for.
I pulled out a metal petty cash tin, rubbing dust and debris from the surface.
“What’s that, like?” Declan asked, leaning in for a closer look.
“It’s where me ma kept all her shite that she didn’t want me da pawnin’ f’drink money,” I replied.
I carefully opened the tin, a soft smile creeping across my face as I unveiled just what I had hoped to see.
The tin was just as she’d left it – a few pieces of jewellery, some relics from her youth and something else that took my breath away.
Fighting against a swell of emotion, I picked up an over-processed photograph of my ma, smiling with me on her lap.
I was just a wain, probably no more than four or five.
I had no memory of this day, but it had clearly meant a lot to my ma if she’d hidden it in here.
My vision swam, blurring with tears and I hastily swiped them away.
“Shite, sorry,” I muttered, suddenly acutely aware that Declan was standing over me.
“F’what?” he replied. “F’cryin’ ‘cause ya mas passed? Don’t be a feckin’ dafty, John-Francis.”
When Declan reached out and squeezed my shoulder, I almost lost it. Sensing I needed a minute, he headed back outside and left me with my emotions.
I didn’t allow myself to feel my grief for too long.
After a minute or two, I scrubbed my hand down my face, sucking in a deep breath before grappling myself back under control.
I spent a short while inspecting the rest of the caravan before reuniting with my mate outside.
Declan was puffing on a cigarette and looked up when I jumped down onto the gravel beside him.
“So? What’re ya thinkin’? Are we keepin’ her or torchin’ her, now?” he asked.
I glanced back over my shoulder. I had expected to feel some type of way about being back inside my childhood home – angry, disgusted, guilty… but certainly not glad. I supposed grief could make a fella do weird shite.
“I’d be keepin’ her,” I said. “Seems a waste t’ torch a perfectly good caravan. It’s been cleaned up nice inside. She needs a wee scrub outside an’ a new battery but I reckon she’ll come good.”
“Need a new set too, fella,” Declan replied, kicking his foot against one of the tyres, flat as a pancake.
“Aye, an’ I’d be bettin’ me da’s van has seen better days an’ all. I’d be takin’ that down t’ the scrappie. Piece o’ shite will be worth more weighed in than tryin’ t’ sell it on I reckon.”
Declan nodded. “We’ll find ya a wee runaround. I bet someone around camp will be happy t’ cut us a good deal on a motor, f’sure.”
“Sounds like a plan, fella. Y’wanna handle the new wheels an’ I’ll get the rest in order?”
“Aye, sound.” Declan held out his fist, and I bumped my knuckles against it.
“Let’s get crackin’. We’ll be back on the road in no time, aye.”
For the first time since I’d been kicked out all those years ago, I had my own place.
The irony that it was my childhood home wasn’t lost on me.
Declan and I fixed her up, and an old fella who wasn’t getting much use out of his transit van was only too happy to sell it on to me.
Soon enough, Declan and I found ourselves out on the open road once more.
It was strange not having my mate beside me and someone to trade off driving with on longer journeys, but I got the impression that Declan was just as relieved as I was to finally have some privacy.
We’d been living together, cooped up in a fucking tin can since we were fifteen.
It was well overdue. Whenever I found myself wondering if I would miss living with Declan, I just reminded myself of all the nights I’d spent freezing my bollocks off or sleeping in the fucking van whilst he got his end wet, and I swiftly changed my mind.
This was for the best. Even the closest of friends needed some space, and when one was hiding a shameful secret, even more so.
Life continued on much as it always had done, except now Declan wasn’t the only one of us who was scoping out potential talent at each layover point.
Eoghan had inspired a new level of confidence in me.
I grew adept at reading body language, knowing where to find what I was looking for and getting a sense for when a fella might be game for a bit of a roll around.
I got better at sneaking around, too and made sure to throw anyone off the scent by occasionally chatting up girls.
I rarely forced things, never pursuing them with much intensity, but if a wee shag was offered up to me, I’d usually take it, even if it did pale in comparison to what I knew I really wanted. Declan never suspected a thing.
Visiting Appleby Horse Fair became an annual tradition for us once again, both of us mourning our ma’s now and keen to keep their spirits alive by living it up in any way we could. For years, everything had just ticked along nicely with no drama, no bumps in the road…
And then Declan met Tess.