Resolution

Chapter 23

Angus Farrell sat on the end of his bed, undoing his shirt buttons and stripping to his vest, going slowly through his ablutions, maintaining the momentum, aware always of the possibility of being watched and having his behavior reported back. He stood by the small sink and squeezed the toothpaste. He opened his mouth and began to brush, shutting his eyes, finding privacy in the moment.

Maureen O'Donnell opening the door to her flat, finding the pictures, wearing cheap clothes and a little makeup, smoking maybe. Not on the doorstep – she wouldn't smoke on the way out of the house. She'd smoke after she saw the pictures, though. Sit in another room and smoke a cigarette, feeling upset. Angus opened his eyes to find his bearings and spat into the basin. It was pink: his gums were bleeding. He smiled and shut his eyes again, brushing hard on the other side. She would sit in the living room, smoking a cigarette, trying not to look at the pictures. She'd put the pictures back in the envelope, cry over them, maybe. When she got the video she wouldn't want to watch it, she'd resist, but he knew she would watch it eventually. She wasn't one for avoidance, even if it was defensive. He spat again. Blood. He could get scurvy in here, the diet was so bad.

He ran the tap, cupping his hand under the bitter chill of the water and rinsing his mouth. He cleaned the bowl, drying it with his towel, hung the towel over the back of his plastic chair and took off his trousers, folding them neatly and putting them on the table for the morning.

He lay in bed with his two blankets over him, hands behind his head, and watched the bulb, waiting for lights-out. Maureen O'Donnell smoking a cigarette, her lips sucking gently on the filter, her cheeks drawing in, a lick of smoke trying to escape from her nostril. The video clicking into the machine, the picture lighting up the screen, and Maureen not wanting to watch it but unable to stop because it was a film of her old chum. She would know it was from him. She'd be terrified when she appeared in court, knowing that she didn't have the measure of him, not by half. It was a pleasing image and Angus had his friend to thank for that.

Lying in his tidy single bed, Angus Farrell looked up at the sickly light from the bare bulb and smiled again, his teeth smeared pink with blood.

The car slowed as it approached the red light. It was dark now and a blanket of clouds covered the fat white moon. Maureen had sobered up and the chill sweat had dried on her back, leaving her feeling dirty and spent. Joe had been worried because she was drunk and wouldn't let her leave without an escort. It was only when Liam walked in through the lobby doors that she realized Joe had been counting on her calling him. He made some snide remarks about junkies and Tonsa and let them go, calling to Maureen that he'd see her next week, if not before. Liam waved at him, smiling superciliously as if Joe were his slightly confused granny.

Maureen could ask Mark Doyle about Tonsa. She'd seen them having a drink together in Brixton the year before and was sure that he'd know what Tonsa was into now. She just wasn't sure he would tell her. The car engine spluttered and stopped. Liam sighed and pulled out the choke, revving the engine until it started again. He raised a placating hand to the driver behind him and took off. "What was that Tonsa crack about?"

"Joe McEwan thought I was up at the guy's house because he's Tonsa's brother."

Liam turned to look at her. "Tonsa's got a brother?"

"Yeah, a dead creepy one. I think he runs a brothel. He's a bit of a gangster."

Liam pulled up outside her house and parked nimbly on the corner. "He doesn't sound like a gangster if he saw you outside his house and called the police."

"He might not have known it was me, though." She lowered her voice. "Joe mentioned the assault again."

"I told you it was crap."

"I know, I know," she said, too insistently.

"Mauri, Tonsa's made allegations left, right and center. Remember her mental boyfriend got slashed and she went to the papers with it? She said it was the UDA."

"Listen, we've got a wedding tomorrow."

"Advertising herself all over the town. What wedding?"

"Kilty's brother's wedding."

"Auch, shit. I forgot all about that. Kilty's family would have loved all this, wouldn't they?"

Leslie was sitting in the dark, her legs tucked into the sleeping bag and a cigarette burning in the saucer next to her. She was hugging her knees and rocking slightly when they opened the door, tear tracks streaked down her face. Around her in the living room were bin bags of clothes and tapes and shoes. She was in for the long haul.

Maureen carried all the bedding she could find through to the front room, spread the duvets over the floor and brought in a big pot of tea and cups, slipping some whiskey into her own. They sat up through the dawn, smoking fags and drinking tea, talking about Cammy and telling Liam about Si McGee and poor dead Ella and the door caved in from the inside. Maureen told them about the hand-delivered letters and the pictures, and Liam and Leslie looked at them and agreed that they were probably from Angus. Liam offered to watch the video in his house and tell her what was on it.

Insistent birds were chorusing and the sky was smeared pink and blue like Cinderella's dress as they nodded off. It had been such an eventful night that it didn't occur to Maureen to ask Liam why he had wanted to see her so much and Liam hadn't had the heart to tell her.