Keeping up with the Joneses

Donnie and Adam are twins, born in the rolling hills of rural Wales. You would expect two boys, born in such an idyllic setting, to grow up pleasant and well balanced, but you'd be wrong. Their father was a bigoted, hate-filled, sack of pus. Every hardship, real or imagined, was blamed on whatever racial stereotype happened to jump into his mind first. I'm not even sure he can be actually called a racist, because he hated the Welsh and non-Welsh with equal venom. He hated the smart, the educated, the wealthy, the powerful, the police, the teachers, the social welfare people, the health care people; all apparently had it in for Mr Jones.

Hardly surprising that he upped sticks and left such a den of vipers, choosing to move to the much more carefree environs of Ireland, dragging his wife and twin toddlers with him. It wasn't long before he recognised his mistake. If anything, Irish employers, and the social care system here were even less understanding of his lazy attitude toward work. Mr Jones was fired from every job he managed to get. The years passed and Mr Jones accepted his forced retirement, content to pass on his particular view of the world to his sons.

As it transpired, they inherited their father’s nasty manner and aptitude for laziness. By the time they were sixteen, they were out of school, and running-a-muck. When not spitting abuse at anyone that caught their eye, they were getting drunk or doing drugs in an abandoned house they called home. Dole money didn't go far, not when you have an expensive lifestyle of drink and drugs to account for. Naturally, they never considered working for the money when they could just take it. If a break-in happened within twenty miles of the Jones's shack, the police knew where to look. 

One particular evening, Donnie and Adam turned their attention on a neat little end of terrace house, in an old part of the town. No fancy lock-picking for these boys, they just rammed a crowbar in the front door and ripped the lock from its housing. Inside, a small Jack Russell began barking wildly. Donnie pinned it in a corner and began kicking the poor little thing savagely. By some miracle, it managed to dodge to freedom and race out the front door, howling in terror. The house was as neat as a pin until the two brothers ripped it apart, smashing whatever came to hand not worth nicking. To their rage filled indignation, there was nearly nothing of value, except the TV.

"Nothing but shite!" screamed Donnie, smashing photos and ripping apart furniture, looking for hidden cash.

"Come on, let’s grab the TV and go," said Adam from the sitting room. Donnie went in and took one corner of the set, still fuming at the audacity of the owner to have nothing they could flog.

They were in the hall when Donnie said, "Hang on a minute," and put down his end of the TV. He ducked back into the sitting room, then started making some fairly unsettling noises.

"What the fuck are you doing," asked Adam, going after him. He was greeted by a vision of Donnie, squatting in the middle of the sitting room, squeezing out a runny crap.

"Serves them bloody right," snarled Donnie, hitching up his trousers, leaving his present behind. They loaded the TV into the van, and left.

***

An hour later, a tall middle-aged man stood before the ruined door, the key rock steady in his hand. For a moment he did nothing, just listened, then he quietly pushed the door open with his fingertips. He slipped inside and moved through the house, keeping close to the wall. He ducked his head around each door, making sure the place was empty before he eventually called out, "Jessy?" 

He listened but heard nothing.

"Jessy, here girl," he said louder, whistling this time. Still nothing. The man went from room to room calling the name. He stopped in the sitting room, staring down at the stinking pile of human waste, then walked out of the house. For hours, the streets rang out with the name, "Jessy."

***

Two days later, Donnie and Adam were in the middle of the town hoping to score some hash, when Adam became aware of a tall man glaring directly at them. He was about six foot one, fit, but not bulky. He had a neatly trimmed beard and his grey hair was buzz cut. Adam locked the van and looked over at the guy. He just kept staring.

"What the fuck you looking at, Queer?" shouted Adam. The man didn't flinch or look away, just kept staring right at him.

"What the FUCK!" said Adam, raising his hands to invite the dude on for a scrap but Donnie was itching to score, so he pulled his brother away.

"Asshole FAGGOT!" screamed Adam, over his shoulder as he left. The man never moved an inch. When the boys got back to the van, they found it sitting on its rims, all the tyres were slashed. After ten minutes of cursing, kicking and shouting, they had no choice but to walk back to the squat. The evening was getting dark and they didn't notice the tall man tailing them, expertly.

After that night, whatever luck the Jones' brothers had, ran out. One night, all the clothes hanging on their washing line were soaked in petrol and set on fire. A few days later, the front window of their house was smashed in and a sack full of rats were dumped inside; dozens of the stinking things. Every other night the tyres on the van were slashed, or the windows were broken, and that was only the beginning. They returned to the squat one evening to find both their beds soaked in gallons of blood. 

Then, Donnie went missing. Adam didn't think too much of it, but when the pubs closed and there was still no sign of him, Adam started calling around. Nobody had seen him. Donnie was found early the next morning, beaten, naked, and handcuffed to a building site fence near the middle of town.

Adam raced to the hospital, where he found his brother in A&E.

"Who did this to you?"

"That tall, queer fella from town, remember, last week," said Donnie.

"Jesus, did he..." said Adam, nodding towards Donnie's crotch.

"NO! Well, I don't think so. I can't remember much. He came up behind me when I was walking home and jabbed something in my neck. I remember his face but after that, not much."

"He must have said something?"

"Yea, he did. He said he wants his TV back."

"What!"

"I know, but that's what he said."

***

Adam walked out of the hospital and was amazed to see that very same tall man, standing in the middle of the car park, staring at him.

"You must have a death wish!" he yelled and ran at the man. The tall guy stood there, as cool as a breeze, watching a snarling Adam rush toward him. When he was a few feet away, Adam launched himself into the air, his foot aimed straight at the man's chest. He still hadn't moved; he even had his hands in his pockets. It was a complete mystery to Adam how, but he seemed to stop in mid-air, flip upside down and be rammed head first into the tarmac. All around him the world swam, and his ears buzzed. Two punches crashed into his jaw, and he felt something crack. Pain shot through him but his scream came out garbled. The tall man leaned over him and said.

"You took my TV; I want it back."

"I have no idea…" mumbled Adam, but the man didn't wait for the end of the sentence. He moved with lightning speed and fresh pain raced up Adam's arm and into his brain.

"JESUS!"

The man held up Adam's severed little finger, and the blood soaked garden shears he’d used to amputate it. "I'm going to take one a week until I get my TV back." The man dropped the finger on Adams chest, straightened up then walked casually away.

***

When the boys got out of hospital, and the police stopped laughing at them, five full days had passed. They couldn’t believe this was all over a TV. Donnie put out a few feelers and the news that came back wasn’t good.

"He's only a bloody Ranger!" said Donnie.

"Like special forces Ranger?" asked Adam.

"Yea but worse. He's a Ranger who was sent home for being off his rocker. That was his mother’s house we knocked over, but she's dead now."

"Since the break in!" yelled Adam, understanding why the guy was trying to kill them, if the shock of the break-in made the Ma croak.

"Na, years ago, it’s just him living there," said Donnie. Neither of them said anything, both running things over and over, looking for a way out of this.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," said Adam at last.

"Good idea," said Donnie, jumping to his feet. Ten minutes later, their van was a speeding blip on the edge of town.

They crashed at a friend’s place in Limerick for a few nights, until, in the middle of the night, a scream tore through the house. Adam rushed into the sitting room, throwing on the light, to find the tall Ranger with a knife to Donnie's neck. There was blood all over the place. Adams mate came running down the stairs but as soon as he got a look in the sitting room, he ran straight back up again.

"Week is up," said the man, throwing Donnie's little finger across the room.

"Look, just tell us what you want," said Adam, feeling his bladder come dangerously close to letting go.

"I want my TV. I've told you that already," said the man in an ice-cold voice.

"All right, all right. I'll get you a bloody TV, just take that knife from his throat," said Adam.

"I said, I want my TV, not a TV. I want the one you took, and I want it brought back to my house before this day next week," said the man, as calmly as he would if he were ordering a salad.

"Yea! No problem! Just let him go, please," said Adam, his eyes beginning to mist over. Just like that the man let his brother go, and walked out the front door and was gone. In the distance, sirens were just starting to grow, Adam's friend must have called the cops from upstairs.

In the end, Adam and Donnie told the coppers nothing. Just said it was a stupid accident. They knew the Ranger was nuts, and there was no way the police were going to stop him, if he decided he wanted to get one, or both of them. The only option was to do what he asked.

***

The next Friday, Adam and Donnie turned up at the little terrace house with the stolen TV held between them. The door opened before they had a chance to knock, and the tall man stepped to one side allowing them to bring in the set. The house was back to the neat way it had been. The twins put the TV on the counter and turned to face the man.

"Plug it in please," he asked, politely. Donnie plugged in the TV and turned it on, as Adam kept a close eye on the mad bastard. Once he had flicked through the channels, the man turned the TV off, and smiled at Adam.

"That's it, we're done so?" Adam asked.

"I want my dog," the man said, his eyes dead.

"I don't have your dog!" yelled Adam, not believing it was starting all over again.

"I want my dog."

"Seriously, we haven't got it!"

"Her."

"We haven't got her; she ran out the door. If we had her, we’d give her back. I swear! You can cut off all my fingers, but we can't give you what we haven't got." said Adam. From the corner of his eye, he could see Donnie start to shake. This was going very wrong; they never should have come inside this house. The tall guy walked over and shut the sitting room door, standing between them and any hope of freedom.

"Ah, Jesus. Please," cried Adam, tears starting to come. The man just shook his head and started to advance. They both backed up until they felt the wall on their backs.

"We’ll do anything else, just name it, anything. Please," blubbed Donnie. The man stopped and looked at them for a second, his crazy mind running behind his dead eyes.

“Okay, give me justice, so," said the man.

"Sure, no problem. You want us to confess to the break in? We’ll do it right now, over the phone so you can listen if you like." said Adam, the prospect of a few months behind bars was nothing compared to having fingers sliced off.

"Not that. Twelve lashes each, in the town square. Tomorrow, midday," said the guy, his eyes gleaming.

"Twelve lashes?"

"Yea. Deal or no deal?" asked the guy.

"With what?" asked Donnie.

"Don't worry about that. Is it a deal?

"Deal! Deal!" said Adam, just wanting to get out of the house

***

The next day, just after mid-day, the twins edged into the town square. In the middle of it stood a statue of a soldier surrounded by a metal rail.

"Take off your tee-shirts," the man said and they did as they were told, attracting lots of looks from the passing shoppers.

"Grab on to the rail, this is going to sting a bit," the Ranger said to Adam, with a smile. Adam turned around and gripped the metal bars. From under his coat, the Ranger removed a short leather whip with nine braided tails. He threw the whip at Donnie's feet and said, "Twelve of the best, please."

"Me?"

The man said nothing. Donnie picked up the whip and looked at his brother's bare back. Realising that it was Donnie going to use the lash, Adam relaxed a bit. The first blow was savage and drew blood, Adam screamed, and everyone in the square stopped in their tracks, but Donnie drew his hand back and let fly once more. Blow after blow fell, each more severe than the last, Donnie's natural evil, rising to the surface. After twelve, Adam dropped away from the fence, his back in ribbons, his face contorted in rage and pain.

"Now you," said the tall man to Donnie, indicating the fence. As soon as Donnie's fists closed around the metal bars, Adam grabbed the whip and went to town on his brother. Adam quickly reached twelve and was about to issue number thirteen when the tall man said, "That is enough."

Adam dropped the whip, panting. Donnie fell to the ground, moaning, and the tall man walked up until he was inches from Adam's face. He bent, and picked up the lash, and said, "Now, find my dog."

The Ranger walked away, having to push through the gathered onlookers. Behind him Adam screamed in frustration, and he smiled for the first time.

Honeysuckle Lane - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“You don’t look happy to see me, why is that,” said Harry walking up the driveway. Frank felt his bowels go a little liquidly. All of a sudden he felt light headed and sick.

“I was coming to meet you Harry honest I was,” Frank said.

“I must not have been clear enough the last time we talked. I was sure I said pay something every week or I was coming to collect. Guess what Frank, I am here to collect,” Harry said stopping close to Frank pushing his hands in his pockets. He looked around like he was a bit bored.

“I don’t have it yet” Frank said.

“You have something though,” Harry said matter-of-factly. Frank dipped into his back pocket taking out his wallet. Harry shook his head “Not here where the world and his dog can see, get in the car.” Frank clicked the key making the car chirp and flash. Harry walked round the passenger side and got in. Frank took a few moments to get his lies straight in his head before doing the same.

“You must take me for a right mug Frank. Did you think you were the invisible man or what. I could have been here last Monday you fuckwit,” snarled Harry.

“I swear to god if I had the money I would have paid you off already. I’m broke, flat busted,” reasoned Frank.

“I couldn’t give a shit. You borrowed money from me, you gambled that money and you lost that money,” each ‘you’ was hammered home with a steely tone. Frank knew it was true but what could he do about it.

“Look Harry you got your money back and more, you’re not out a penny. I can’t pay you what I don’t have,” Frank said. Harry shook his head and opened the glove box rummaging through the insurance papers and cd’s like he was shopping.

“You are going to pay Frank and that is a fact. It might take a year, ten years, your whole fucking life but I will get what is due to me. If you even think about doing anything stupid like going to the cops or god forbid legging it, then your family will pay” Harry said with menace.

“Don’t you ever go near my family” shouted Frank grabbing the front of Harrys jacket. Harry didn’t bat an eyelid. He eyed the fist which was bunching up the leather of his coat. He kept looking at it until Frank released his grip.

“Open your wallet Frank” he said calmly. Frank did and held it out. Harry took out the notes and counted €250 and looked disappointed. “Have you got more in the house?”

“No. Take this, there is a grand credit on it,” Frank said holding out the credit card. Harry laughed and refused the card with a wave of his hand.

“You must be joking. Before you know it that would be reported stolen and me nicked for using it, what do you take me for. Cash only Frank,” Harry said. He waved the little fold of notes in Franks face “This is for my time coming to find you out here in the fucking sticks. Next Friday Frank I expect you at the pub by six. Have €3456 euro with you and you will never have to see me again.”

“I thought it was €2800,” said Frank.

“Interest on interest Frank, it adds up,” said Harry stuffing the notes inside his jacket pocket. He opened the door and walked around to Franks side. Harry opened the driver’s door and leaned against the car like they were the best of friends. Harry noticed a young woman walking down the foot path towards them. She spotted Harry ogling her just as she came level with the back of the car, she gave him a filthy look and flipped him the finger. The saucy cow. She was fine looking thing with lovely perky tits. Harry wouldn’t mind bumping into her when she was a bit pissed. He watched the sexy bounce of her ass giggle its way down the road and into a house near the end of the row.

“Nice neighbours you got Frank,” Harry said. He turned his eyes away from the young girl to Frank. His face morphed into a mask of hate. “Don’t you ever put you’re fucking hand on me again,” spat Harry. “Grab the fucking door frame.”

“What?” said Frank.

“Take your hand and hold of the roof of the car,” Harry said slowly, deliberately. Frank tentatively reached up and wrapped his fingers around the edge door frame. Harry stood back “Next Friday Frank, don’t be late,” he slammed the door hard crushing Franks fingers.

Harry walked towards his car, muffled cries of agony ringing in his ears. He did not give a damn about Frank or if his fucking fingers dropped off. Harry knew his message had been received. He got behind the wheel of the black BMW. Harry could not get over the little bitch down the road, she had actually flipped him the finger, she must have balls of steel or at least a pussy of gold. He started the car and drove off without even a backward glance.

Next Part : http://squidmcfinnigan.blogspot.ie/2014/02/honeysuckle-lane-chapter-4.html

Just Chill, for God's Sake.

Is it only me, or has anyone else noticed how aggressive the average guy, and gal, is getting over the most ridiculous things.

For example, during mid-evening traffic, a guy with a car full of kids over-took me and a standing line of traffic, to get onto an already jammed round-about. The car was at least ten years old and showed the scars of past scrapes. The guy dived towards a gap that was far too small for him and came up short, cut off by a gold Volvo.

The guy driving like a complete nob might have had a sick kid in the car, or some other emergency, but I doubted it. Anyway, I sat there and watched as he tried to force his way in but the Volvo inched the gap closed a bit more. Finally the car scraped through and the Volvo driver let fly with a salvo on his horn. 

This is where things got baffling, the red car, in such a frantic hurry seconds ago, braked, and backed up! Go figure? Anyway, the window came down, and about a minute of abuse was yelled in the general direction of the gold Volvo, before a finger was flipped and the battered red car screamed away, wobbling on balding tyres. 

Road rage is one thing, but what about pizza rage?

The other night I witnessed a group of middle aged men and women, sitting drinking in a hotel bar. One woman picked up her phone and ordered a Domino's pizza to be delivered. When it arrived, a member of staff told the woman that takeaway food couldn't be consumed in the public areas of the hotel, who by the way were serving food. The woman, and whole group, exploded in righteous indignation, yelling that they had every right to eat what they wanted anywhere they wanted. Instead of eating the Pizza in their rooms and returning to the bar later, they angrily sat there, watching it go cold and trying to sneak pieces when they thought nobody was looking. 

Just two examples out of thousands that I have witnessed. 

Now, I'm the first to tell you that I'll argue for my rights, but is my whim, my right? Are bad manners taking over the world, or are these people just the tiny vocal minority? What do you think? Have you an example, or a story you'd like to share? I would love to hear it.

Squid

Being of Sound Mind

Christine wondered if there was some kind of physic link between parent and child when she turned her ringing phone over and saw the word, ‘Mom.’ She'd just been thinking about her when the phone went off. It was creepy

"Hi, Mom, is everything alright?" 

"That's lovely, can't a mother ring her favourite daughter without something being wrong?" huffed Barbara, who sounded like she was in the next room not half way across the country.

"Of course you can but it's so early there - and since when have I been the favourite?" she asked, relaxing a bit. 

"I was awake so I thought I'd catch you before you left for work." 

Christine looked down at the jacket and handbag in the crook of her arm and wondered again about that physic connection. "Good timing, I was on the way out the door. Are you sure everything is alright? You sound a bit...sad, “she said, leaning against the inside of her own front door. Down the line she heard her Mom take a deep breath.

"I'm fine, well, alright. I guess I miss your Dad. This place is so empty without him." Christine heard a slight snuffle and imagined her Mom brushing away a half shed tear and shaking herself before melancholy got a hold of her. "Would you listen to me," she laughed but Christine heard the sorrow in her chuckle. 

"I’ll come to visit soon, Mom, I promise," she said, feeling guilty at the thought of her Mother being all alone but she checked her watch and knew she was going be late for work. She would be stuck in bumper to bumper traffic as it was. That was when she missed the wide open spaces of Montana the most. 

"I am glad you said that, because I’ve booked a plane ticket for you, on the 25th," said Barbara, her voice alive with devilment.

"Mom! I can't drop everything and go running off on a whim," she said, imagining the huge mound of paper sitting on her desk.

"Of course you can, Darling, you work far too hard anyway. Look, tell them I'm sick or dead or something."

"MOM!"

"You're so dry, just tell them you need a break," 

"I’ll see what I can do. I got to go. I'll call you tonight," she said yanking open the door and rattling her handbag to find her car keys.

"Okay, Darling. But I need you to come on the 25th, its important."

"What's going on Mom?" she asked, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She was keeping something secret, Christine knew it.

"All in good time. Enjoy work, Honey."

"But Mom..." the phone went dead in Christine's hand. She looked at it and considered calling back but then she saw the time.

"Shit!" she said and ran toward the car, her keys jangling as she went, and her blood-pressure spiking. Perhaps a break would do her good.

***

Early on the morning of the 25th, Christine looked down on Montana as the plane made its final approach. The land was a patchwork of forest and neatly trimmed farmland, scattered at the feet of mighty mountain peaks. It real was big sky country.

Getting through the airport and baggage reclaim went smoothly. She was headed toward an Avis desk when she spotted her brother Jonathan.

"What are you doing here?" she said, embracing her little brother warmly.

"I was summoned, just like you. Mom sent me to pick you up. Everyone else has arrived already," he said, flashing her a dazzling smile that helped make him a TV star.

"Everyone?" she asked with a worried frown.

"Everyone, the whole family."

"Tina?"

"Yes, even Tina. Did Mom not tell you?" he asked, taking her suitcase as they walked toward the exit.

"No, not a word. What's going on, Jonathan? This is very weird," she said and those hairs on her neck were tingling again.

"She wont tell us anything until you get there. Some spiritual thing I bet. I think she’s been watching too much Oprah," said Jonathan. Christine clung to his arm and searched his face for changes. He was so hansom, possibly too hansom, but the laughter lines around his eyes softened his features. She picked out speckles of grey in the hair above his ears and thought it suited him. It so unfair how years on a man could make him more attractive. 

"And, how’s Tony?" she asked. 

"I'm afraid, I’d be the last to know," he said, the note of hurt in his voice was unmistakable.

"You guys broke up?" she gasped, holding a hand to her mouth so she wouldn't put her second foot in it.

"Well, if you call being caught with his pants around his ankles, breaking up, yea."

"That's terrible, I can't believe he would do such a thing."

"Well, he did."

"Then he never deserved you in the first place," she said planting a kiss on his cheek and hugging him tightly. 

"Thanks Sis, you say all the right things," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Enough about me, what's cooking with you? Has Mister Right appeared yet?" 

"Nothing steady," she said, but the look he gave her said he wasn't buying much of what she was selling. Jonathan always said she was married to her work and she would live to regret it.

During the ride out to the ranch, they caught up on five years of gossip. Christine hadn’t realised so much time had passed since they'd last seen each other. Where had the years gone? Soon, the buildings  vanished and spectacular views exploded in front of their windscreen. 

"I nearly forgot how breath-taking it is here," he said, gazing out the window.

"New York is fairly spectacular, in its own way," said Jonathan.

"I know, but not like this," she said and rested her chin on her palm. She remembered feeling such wonder when she first moved to the big apple; the lights, the height, the crowds. But, time had robbed her eyes of wonder. She thought of her Dad, and the way he would look at the mountains and the lakes. He was one of God's special creations, an eternal fountain of wonder, whose eyes saw the world anew every day the sun rose in the sky. She missed him so very much, it was like a hole in her soul.

After an hour the road became hauntingly familiar; the same fences, the sames signs, the same gates. Jonathan turned down a rutted track and the car rattled as it went. She felt butterflies in her tummy because they were nearly there. They crested a hump in the road, and there it was, the place that had welcomed her into the world over forty years ago. Over time the house had grown with them and now it was an impressive ten bedroom dwelling. Jonathan pulled around the back and parked near the stables. Before the engine had even stopped Barbara came rushing across the yard to greet them.

"Chrissie, your home!" she cried, yanking open the passenger door and hauling her out of the car for a hug.

"Mom," she said as she was engulfed by Barbara's blond hair and was surprised to feel emotion catch in her throat.

"It's so good to have you all together at last," said her Mother into her ear.

"It's good to be home, Mom." she said, untangling herself from the hairdo. 

"Come on, everyone is waiting," said Barbara taking her by the arm and leading her inside. In the dining room the table was groaning under a tonne of food. Every seat was full and the room hummed with happy clamour. Her sisters Susan and Tina sat side by side, their families spread higgidlypiggidly around the table. Danny, her youngest brother was messing with the older kids while John, her oldest brother, sat stonily in Dad's chair. It didn't suit him. Johnathan got her a seat and they joined the feast, letting the tidal wave of joy wash over her.

Lunch lasted well over an hour and soon the kids were hunted outside to play. When they were gone Barbara said, "I guess you want to know whats going on." The room went silent as she gathered herself and smiled. "There'll come a time when I won't be here." Around the table everyone started objecting to the notion but Barbara shushed them with a raised hand.

"Like it or not, it’s going to happen. I’d feel better knowing what's going to happen to this place, and all of you." They were stunned into silence, nobody knew what to say.

Barbara laughed and said, "If I’d known it was this easy to shut you up, I’d have started years ago. I know this isn’t easy for anyone, least of all me but it's important." 

Brothers, sisters, wives and husbands shared uncomfortable looks, none willing to speak first. Barbara had to stir the pot one more time, "Should we sell it or keep it?" That got the ball rolling good and proper. Everyone objected to the idea of selling off their family home. Barbara smiled at the deafening howl of unity.

"That's decided then, we're keeping the place," she said, clapping her hands in delight. "The big question is who is going to run it?" Silence fell once more and guilty faces searched their coffee cups. "What about you, Danny? Would you like to run it?" asked Barbara, looking at her youngest and wildest child. He was the only one not settled down. He was a bit of a hobo, always moving on, normally seconds before an angry husband caught up with him.

"I guess, I could, when the time comes that is," said Danny, not exactly jumping up and down at the prospect of being saddled with a ranch, even one worth a small fortune. 

"And what do the rest of you think about Danny taking over?" asked Barbara. It was Tina who jumped into the breach.

"What do we think of Danny running the ranch, or what do we think of the ranch being left to Danny entirely." she asked. There was a general intake of breath around the table. "What?" she asked wide eyed. "You know you were all thinking it," she said, accusingly. 

"Tina's right. It has to be discussed," said Barbara.

Tina continued, emboldened by Barbara's support. "I’ve no objection to Danny running this place, and getting a wage, but I don't see why it should be left entirely to him." Christina knew her sisters tenacity well and she was never afraid to attack a problem head-on, no matter who's feelings she might hurt in the process.

"Hold up there, Tina. You can't expect me to drop my whole life just like that!" said Danny, seeming to forget this was all imaginary.

"Not for nothing, you’d get your share, and a reasonable wage," said Tina, seeing only logic in her words.

"Hang on," said Christine not liking the way her sister was railroading her brother. "It's hardly fair to ask Danny to spend his life working on something that can never be his. Dad would never have asked him to do that. If Danny makes the ranch work, it should be his ranch."

"Exactly," said Danny, feeling vindicated.

"So everyone else gives up their birthright just because Danny needs something to hold him in one place? And what if he doesn't make a go of it?" said Tina, turning on Christine. The sisters glared across the table at one another but it was Danny that spoke.

"I never said I wanted the ranch in the first place, don't make this about me," he sulked.

John decided it was time for him to have a say. "Danny's right, would anybody else like to run the ranch?" But it was Danny who spoke again.

"I never said I wasn't interest, honest Mom." He looked at Barbara as if he had let her down.

"What about you Susan?" asked John ignoring Danny's efforts to keep everyone happy.

Susan looked at Dave before saying, "It would be a great place to bring up the boys. But what about their school, or their friends, or Dave's job. No, it would be too much, well not right now, but this is all what if, right?"

"So if I am seeing this right - you all want a share of the ranch but not the responsibility of working it? You cant have it both ways guys,” said John, acting as mediator.  “I happen to agree with Tina - and Christine. Whoever takes this place on deserves to have their name over the door. But like Tina said, we all have a right to it," said John.

"Oh, come on, John," said Jonathan. "This is nonsense. Mom, I really don't like talking about this."

"This is hard for me too, Jonathan, but I think Mom is right. Do you think it would be right to leave it all up to her to sort out?" John couldn't bring himself to say, 'When Mom's dead.' 

Christine didn't like this conversation, not one bit and felt tears start to gather.

"And what about the kids?" asked Susan.

"What kids?" asked Jonathan.

"The grand kids. Should they not be considered? After all, it’s their inheritance to," said Susan, making big cow eyes across the table. Christine saw Dave lay a reassuring hand on his wife's arm, telling her she'd said the right thing. Now that got Christine's blood boiling.

"Are you saying, you should get a bigger slice because you have kids and I don't?" she demanded, not believing how sly her sweet little sister was being.

"It’s not like that, but I don't think they should be forgotten. Tina's or John’s either," said Susan, looking wounded at being thought of as greedy. Christine didn't miss the look that passed between Tina and Susan, it seemed alliances were being forged. Christine looked at Barbara and saw hurt in her eyes.

"I'm with Jonathan,” said Christine. “I don't think we should be talking like this. It’s upsetting Mom, even if she isn't saying so," she said pushing back from the table and standing. She gathered the dirty dishes from the table and stomped away toward the kitchen. A moment later Barbara appeared at her shoulder.

"That was harder than I’d imagined," her Mom said, taking the dishes from Christine's shaking hands.

"There’s no need to ask anyone what to do, Mom. Just do what you want with the place, we’ll all be happy with whatever you decide," she said, taking Barbara in her arms.

***

The next few days passed in forced normality. It was as if the discussion had planted a toxic seed in each of their minds. One evening, Christine found Jonathan sitting on a fence admiring the setting sun.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said and sat up beside him.

"I'm not sure they are worth a penny," he said, sadly.

"Is it about the ranch, and what Mom said?" she asked.

"Yea. I don't really care about the ranch or the money. It's that I can't imagine this place without her being here," he said.

"Or Dad," she added. Jonathan didn't say anything, his head dipped. She knew what he was saying, home is in the heart, not in bricks and mortar.

"Would you let Danny have the whole place if he wanted to run it?" she asked.

"Honestly no, and not because I want it myself. I’d worry that he’d lose the whole lot running after some get rich quick scheme. You know what his record is like," he said.  

"It could be what he needs, to settle him down," she said.

"I don't think Tina would be so generous. If I’m to be honest I don't fancy just handing over that much money myself but I would rather do that than fall out with anyone," said Jonathan.

"I was amazed at Susan, did you see that passive aggressive move she made, with the kids, trying to carve out a bigger slice for herself," said Christine, who was still annoyed with her sister.

"Dave had a lot to do with that. I heard them talking late last night and I get the impression that things might not be as rosy in their garden as they are letting on. All I could hear was, money, money, money," he said sadly.

"I just don't think it’s doing Mom any good, watching her kids pick over the bones of her life like vultures," she said which is exactly what she felt like.

"Your right, that's a pleasure reserved for the undertaker, or the lawyers," chuckled Jonathan. His humour could be so dark sometimes.

"You're terrible," she said, play-punching him in the arm.

"I can't wait for Monday. I know its horrible, but I can’t stand looking at them anymore," said Jonathan, turning serous again. "All I see now is greed, not my brothers and sisters. I wish Mom had never brought it up."

"It's Pandora's box, once opened, it can never be closed again," she said, wishing for Monday herself. 

***

It wasn’t long before the trip to the ranch was buried under a mountain of everyday concerns. It was a complete suprise when Barbara rang and said she was in in New York. They arranged to meet in a lovely restaurant in the Village. When her Mom got out of the taxi she was positively glowing. The meal was magic, the wine was better and they laughed so much people would have thought they were sisters not mother and daughter. Towards the end of the meal, Christine felt she had to apologise for the way they had all acted during the visit to the ranch.

"Don't pay it any-mind sweetie, I sure didn't. If anything, it helped me get up off my tushie and grab life by the throat," she said with a grin. "Speaking of which, what about another bottle?" she asked, wiggling her near empty wine glass.

"I don't know, Mom. I've got work tomorrow," she said, checking the time on her phone.

"If you can't play hooky with your Mom, what's the world coming to?"

"Oh, go on. Just one more glass for me, then I have to be going," said Christine, raising her hand to the waiter who was loitering close by. The problem with opening a bottle is you just got to finish it. 

By the time they were hailing a cab, Christine's head was swimming and she knew she’d pay dearly in the morning. "Where to?" asked the cabbie over his shoulder.

"Manhattan Cruse Terminal, please," said Barbara.

"Why are we going there?"  she asked.

"That's where my ship is parked, darling."

"Ship? What Ship?"

"Didn’t I say? I’ve been cruising! Some of the things I've seen. I saw some polar bears near the Arctic Circle. They’re huge! Cuddly looking, but huge."

"You never said you were taking a holiday," she said, shocked that her mother had taken such a huge step without telling her.

"Trip of a lifetime honey. You can come if you like, plenty of room in my cabin," she said, slightly slurring her words.

"Ha! The boss would love that!"

"Don't tell him, just come. Life's too short to worry about the boss the whole time," she said, as the first of the city size ships came into view. When Barbara got out of the cab she did a little speed wobble in her high heels.

"Blasted things," she said, kicking them off and picking them up by the straps. "Night Baby," she said as they hugged.

"Night, Mom," she said, the wine was making her teary.

"And promise me you’ll see the world one day, before it’s all messed up," Barbara said with a wink.

"I will, Mom. I promise." Christine watched her pad away on bare feet, like a teenager coming home from  prom; her heals thrown over her shoulder and not a care in the world.

***

If Christine had known that was the last time she’d have ever seen her mother, she would have got on the boat without a second thought. But she didn't. Four weeks later, anchored off the coast of Brazil, a housekeeper found Barbara in bed. She'd passed away peacefully during the night. It came as an shock to the whole family but particularly Christine. She was the last one to see her alive.

It took a few weeks for the authorities to release her body, and John flew to Rio de Janeiro to bring her home. They were all at the ranch when the long black hearse pulled into the yard. In the back, an aluminium coffin lay still and silent. It was impossible for Christine to picture her mother inside such a thing. It was horrific. Friends and neighbours gathered in their hundreds and the house was filled to bursting. That night, they sat around and celebrated their mothers life with stories and more than a few glasses of wine.

The following day Barbara made her final journey to the local chapel. Mass was said and before night fell she was lying the arms of a man that would love her for eternity.   

The days after the funeral passed in a blur of well-wishers and tears. John and Tina were discussing returning home when a tall stranger appeared at the kitchen door and knocked. Christine was the one to answer it.

"My deepest apologies for intruding on your time of grief. My name is Simon Philips, your mothers attorney. I wonder if I may have a few moments," he said.

"Of course, come in," she said.

The tall young man nodded to everyone in the room, and said, "I'm very sorry to come unannounced but your mother was very specific how her will was to be delivered."

"We have her will, it was in the sideboard over there," said John. 

"She recently made a new one and I must say its one of the most unusual wills I've ever been party to," said Mr Philips.

"Can you all be here tomorrow for a reading?" the man asked.

"Yes, we can," said John but he was looking at the man with scepticism. Look, sorry if this sounds rude but we've never even seen you before. You could be anyone. How can we be sure that is my mothers will?" 

The man handed over his business card and his drivers licence for inspection and when John handed them back the man smiled. "You are quiet right to be cautious but believe me the authenticity of this document is beyond doubt. Shall we say mid-day?"

"I'm sure that will be fine," said John looking around at the rest of the family but nobody objected.

"I’ll come a little early to make preparations. Is there a room I can use?" asked the man.

"The parlour would be best," said Tina.

"Would you be so good as to show it to me?" asked the man. Tina led the attorney into the parlour, where the rest of the family could hear him say, "Splendid, this will be perfect."

***

The next day Mr Philips turned up with two helpers. He asked the gathered family to wait in the kitchen, while he ensured everything was in working order for a seamless presentation of the will. It all seemed like a lot of hot air, surely all the man had to do was read out a few paragraphs, possibly get a few signatures. 

On the dot of twelve, Mr Philips appeared at the kitchen door and called everyone inside. The furniture had been arranged in a semi-circle, allowing enough seating for everyone. At the centre of this, was a very large TV on a stand, which Mr Philips helpers must have erected. Once everyone was seated, Mr Philips smiled and gestured toward the screen, where Barbara appeared. She was smiling and very nearly life-size. It made them all jump. Christine burst into tears and Mr Philips paused the recording while Susan came to comfort her. When the shock had worn off, Christine said, "Sorry, I'm ready now, sorry."

Mr Philips activated the recording.

"Hello, my darlings," said Barbara, smiling down on them all. "If you're watching this I guess I have finally gone to be with your Dad. I can’t tell you how much I have missed him. I know for sure he has been waiting for me to start our next great adventure. Our whole life as been an adventure and one made richer by sharing it with you," she said and gave a dazzling smile. 

"Please don't be sad for me, even though I know you have been, it will pass. It’s the way of the world. I’m sure John has been keeping everything working like clockwork. You were always my rock, John. Always taking so much on your shoulders, so others wouldn't have to. 

Tina, my little fire cracker. I know you all think she's so tough but let me tell you I've listened to her cry when she thought nobody could hear and that wasn't so long ago. You can be so demanding of people, and yourself. Guys you got to cut her some slack and remember she loves you just as much as she drives you crazy," said Barbara, choosing that moment to move her head and pick out the exact seat Tina had selected. It made them all chuckle, all except Tina who had burst into tears and Jonathan put his arm around her. 

"Jonathan. What about you, my lovely boy. My shining star. You love with all your heart and that is such a brave thing to do in such a hard world. Don't let the bumps in the road put you off, there is something amazing waiting for you, I know it.

Susan, you are just like me in so many ways we are like the same person. Every time I looked into your eyes, I saw my own joys and fears looking right back at me. For me, the greatest gift life ever gave me was children and I know you feel the same. They are so lucky to have you, sweetheart."

On screen, Barbara adjusted herself in the chair and took a breath before continuing. Christine got a shock when she looked directly into her eyes and said her name. "Chrissie; so driven, so kind, so amazing, you are the only one who can’t see how special you are. I wish and pray that one day you get everything you long for, I’ve a feeling it might be closer than you imagine." Christine felt as if she had just been electrocuted. Not only by the spookyness of what had just happened but also because her  mother had read her life as if it was an open book. 


"Which leaves my baby boy, Danny. What a scamp you are, breaking hearts and rules all your life, running from one great adventure to another. A mother worries you know, but the girl in me just wants to run right along by your side." On the screen Barbara wiped away a single tear and smiled at them lovingly. Not a sound came from her children seated around her.

"Well, enough of that. Down to the matter at hand. I've some good news, and I've some bad news. The good news is you are all still in the will," which caused a ripple of emotional laughter to run through the room, even Mr Philips smiled.

"The bad news is that I was making a damn good fist of spending a lot of your inheritance before this," she said seeming to point at the screen. Her comic timing was perfect and they all laughed. Christine never knew her mother was so funny. 

"That weekend I called you all to the ranch, I knew there was a good chance this day was coming, soon." Barbara tapped the side of her head, "A week spot on an artery, deep inside here. That weekend I realised that the ranch, the house, none of it mattered. What mattered was you, your connection to each other, our family. That was why I sold the whole bloody thing, lock, stock and barrel."

A shocked murmur ran around the room, while Barbara sat smiling at them from the screen. The room was just beginning to grow silent when Barbara spoke again, "You've all met Mr Philips. He arranged the whole thing and got me a hansom price. I'm sorry to say, but you all have to be out by the end of the week," she said with a wicked smile. 

In the corner John said, "Typical Barb, always having the last laugh," which made everyone else laugh while they cried.

On the screen Barbara continued, "So what are you all going to get? Straight off the bat, Mr Philips has a cheque for one hundred thousand Dollars, for each of you, to do with as you like, and no Susan, the Grand-kids don't get cheques." This time, it was Danny that laughed, "Ha! She got you good, Sis."

"There's more. Mr Philips, please," said Barbara. Mr Philips smiled and sent one of his aids outside.

"In no particular order, I have a few small gifts for you. To start with, Danny, my lovely wild boy. I saw how pained you were that day when your brothers and sisters tried to tie you to the ranch. You are like one of those wild horses, galloping across the plain. It would be cruel to tie you to one particular place. My gift to you is this," said Barbara smiling, and Mr Philips walked forward and dropped something small into Danny's hand. It was key, outside a heavy engine roared to life and everyone craned to see what was making all the noise. In the yard, a shining vintage convertible mustang with wire spoke wheels roared up and stopped outside the window.

"Go where ever the hood is pointed my boy and I'll be riding right along with you," said Barbara. "Now for you, Mr Serous," said Barbara pulling a face on the screen. Mr Philips produced a box tied in a ribbon. He handed it to John while Barbara sat patiently on the screen. Inside the box was the most heinous Hawaiian shirt you ever did see.

"Put it on, and let me see if it fits," said Barbara. John took off his jacket and tie, slipping the shirt on over the one he was wearing. The gathered family couldn’t help it, the room erupted in laughter, as John stood dumbfounded in the middle of the floor.

"I think it’s a hit," said Barbara. "Life is serious, but only if you let it be, John. Take some time to laugh at the world, at yourself, and you just might start to enjoy life again. You can be a good man and still have some fun. Check the pocket," she said and John withdrew a folded piece of paper.

"It’s two weeks in Hawaii, for you, Mary and the kids. Mr Philips called her earlier, and made the arrangements. Being my last request, she could hardly refuse, but mark my words, John. Sweep that woman off her feet and you will never regret it." John started to sob and Christine couldn't remember him doing that...ever. He walked up to the screen and kissed his mother’s face, then he walked out of the room. Everyone was so stunned they hardly heard Barbara continue with her bequests. Mr Philips walked over to Tina and Susan, handing each an envelope.

"To my darling girls, I give you the gift of wisdom. Susan, I’m sending you back to college to finish off what you started all those years ago, interior design, I believe. Your tuition is paid in full, so no excuses. Tina, I'm not sure you’ll like this, but it’s for your own good. I’ve signed you up to a two week, all inclusive trip to a monastery, for meditation and mindfulness training. Let’s be honest, it was either that or anger management classes. Sweetheart, sometimes the fight just isn't worth it."

Mr Philips walked up to Jonathan and handed him an envelope. On the screen Barbara smiled, "To the king of hearts, I give the city of love. I fear our country is far too young to ever truly satisfy a soul as old as yours, Jonathan. When I asked myself, what place in the world could ever come close to matching you for sophistication, class and passion? Only one came to mind. Paris, my dear, Paris. It’s yours, with all my love. Now, I’m sure that Tina and Susan have been busy totting up a running total of my spending and have realised it is nowhere near the value of the ranch. So it is about time I revealed my main bequest.

I want to give you all the gift of family, too that end, I have formed a trust with one specific function. This trust is to be used to pay for a Thanksgiving Holiday for all of you, and your families, every year here in your homeland, Montana. You are all the family you have left, don't ever let petty squabbles or differences stand between you. Fight, but make up, disagree, but understand, love, and never let go, that is my gift to you all. I want to give you each other."

On the screen, Barbara sat back and scratched her head, "I'm sure we’re forgetting something, Mr Philips. Can you check your bag and see if there is anything left in it?" Mr Philips lifted a large green rucksack and turned it upside down but nothing fell out. All eyes in the room turned to Christine, surely her mother hadn’t forgotten her, out of all of them. 

On the screen, Barbara smiled that half wicked, half cherub, smile of hers, "Of course I’ve not forgotten you, Chrissie. This is for you." Mr Philips handed her the empty rucksack. Christine looked inside, and it was indeed empty.

"That's right sweetie, it’s empty. I want you to go fill it up. Fill it with memories and experiences to last a life time. I want you to see the world before it’s too late. Money is not what you need, nor things. You need life, in your life, and the only place you’ll find it is out there. Don't be afraid, you can always come home." Christine felt her eyes fill with tears. All along, her mother was the one that knew her best, even better than she knew herself.

On the screen, Barbara sat back in her chair, "I think my job is done here. I love you all so much, when you meet on your yearly holiday, I want you to set two chairs at the table, one for me and one for your Dad because as long as someone holds you in their heart you are never truly gone. See you in the fall, Love you," and with an kiss and a wave, she stood up and walked out of the shot. 

The screen goes dark.    

Moll's and Gangsters

Chapter 4

Darren drove in silence, letting his mind pry at the latest crazy stunt John and Tony had gotten him dragged into. In truth, Darren knew his brothers were feral, and would get him killed one day, but that didn’t mean he had another route to take. Like it or not, he was a Griffin from skin to bone, nothing would ever change that. He knew he could see the world differently than his brothers, that didn’t mean he could change the path that had been laid out for him. He might see the doorways to a peaceful existence passing him by, but just as surely, he knew they would be slammed in his face, if he ever had the audacity to try and take one of them. Not only that, but it would also mean cutting himself off from the world he knew, the world which accepted him, as he was. Such vision was just as much as curse, as it was a blessing. John never worried about such things, he like the life he was living, and would never seek out any other.

By the time Darren dropped John outside his house, he had made peace with the war they'd started today. What mattered now was to win at all costs. John opened the door of the car but paused before getting out. 

“Are you alright?” he asked Darren.

“This isn’t the way I would chosen things to be, John, but it’s the way things are,” Darren said. John smiled and got out of the car without saying a word. Darren drove away, feeling neither fear nor excitement, anticipation nor dread. He merely accepted what would be, would be. He abandoned the car with the keys in the ignition, and the door open. Darren knew it would be wrecked, or torched, before he even reached his flat. Darren strode along the street, streets which were more his home than any house, trying to figure out where this would all end up. He glanced over his shoulder, now and again, more out of habit than fear, but its better to be safe than dead, he hated being on edge all the time.

He checked behind him once more when he reached the cast iron gate that guarded the entrance to his apartment block, nobody was following. He pressed a code into the keypad, and the electromagnet released the gate. Darren climbed the stairs until he reached the top floor, his floor. It might be a flat in a north Dublin suburb, but it rivalled any other flat in Dublin in its finish. The door was four inch thick, solid mahogany, with a mirror finish. Inside, the flat was a vast open plan space, bedecked with stylish furniture and décor.  Clare was standing behind the ironing board, a sizeable stack of folded clothes were already done and waiting to be put away, while a hamper, half full, still lay at her feet. She rested the steaming iron in its holder, when the solid door closed behind Darren.

“You were gone a long time, I thought you were only going to meet John?” she said, concerned but not nagging.

“I did, earlier, but he had something he needed doing,” Darren said, sliding behind her to give her a hug and a kiss on the neck. She tilted her head away exposing that little place behind her ear that she to have touched, by finger or lip. He felt her melt back in his arms and he could feel the tiny fluttering of her heart under his encircling arms. A faint hint of perfume lay sweetly on her skin, complementing the most wonderful smell on the planet, her smell. Darren inhaled deeply, rubbing his nose along the line of her neck, where it vanished into the thick forest of blond hair that cascaded down her back. He drew her wonderful aroma deep inside his lungs and held it there, holding her essence deep inside his body, knowing that nothing else would ever make him feel as alive as the sensation of having part of her within him. When he exhaled, he imagined a sliver of her soul passing over his lips, and out into the universe. It reminded him that in the end, we all only borrow time and happiness, it can never be owned. He rested his head on her shoulder and let worry cloud his mind once more.

She rested a hand on his arm, and stroked the lean muscle that twitched beneath his pale skin, “Are you alright, Darren?” she asked, her voice sweet and serene. He didn't answer straight away, causing her to turn in his embrace.

“What is it, Honey?” she said, stroking his head as it rested against hers.

“John wants to expand the business into O’Connell Street,” he said, without lifting his head.

“O’ Connell Street belongs to Kingston,” she said, drawing away from him a little, her face creased with concern.

“I know,” said Darren, straightening up and running his hand through his hair.

“I hope you put him right?” she said.

“It’s too late, he already made the first move.”

“Without telling you, without asking what you thought.”

“He knew what I’d say, I guess that was why he didn’t ask,” Darren sighed.

“There must be something you can do to stop John, it’s too dangerous to try and take over a patch like that. Jimmy Kingston will never let O’Connell Street go. It’s too valuable.”

“John isn’t asking, he’s taking. Tony knocked over Kingston’s man in Zoe’s a few nights ago, and today we hijacked his main supply drop. Like I said, it’s too late.”

“Oh God, what's he done?” Clare said, walking away, holding her face in her hands and sitting on the couch, the forgotten iron, spitting clouds of steam into the air at regular intervals. Darren didn’t say anything, but he moved over to sit beside Clare, resting a comforting hand on her back, as she searched for answers that weren't to be found.  She turned to look at him, her face was ashen now,

“Don’t get involved with this, Darren. It’s John’s mess, let him deal with it.”

“I can’t do that, and you know it,” Darren said, removing his hand from her back.

“Why? Why must it be you?”

“It’s who I am. It’s who we are. I, we, are the Griffins. They need me, and I need them just as much, can’t you see that. If we don’t stand together, we have no chance at all. You knew who I was when you decided to be with me, nothing has changed,” he said, a little steel creeping into his voice.

“Yes it has, everything has changed, Darren. Can’t you see that? I love you, Martin loves you. What kind of a life will it be, if every time you walk out that door, it might be the last? It'd be like having my heart ripped out every day, again and again, until it happened for real. Please, Darren, Please don’t do this to me,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck, and he felt her body shudder, as the tears came.

“Come on, Clare. It’s not that bad,” cooed Darren, taking her in his arms and squeezing her tightly.

“Look, the last thing anybody wants is a running battle on the streets. There might be a way to reach some kind of compromise, and I promise you, if I can, I will get the boys to look for a way out of this. But I have to stand with my brothers, Baby. I can’t desert them, just like I could never desert you. Nobody is going to take me from you, I give you my word,” he said, lifting her head and kissing her quivering lips hungrily. 

She pulled away from him after a while, her mascara running in dark rivers down her face.

“Promise?” she said.

“I promise,” he said, and was rewarded with a weary smile.

Inside, Darren knew it was a promise that was going to be nearly impossible to keep. Clare was right, Jimmy Kingston would never give up O’Connell Street, and John would never back down, once he had put his mind to something. Darren could only hope that some of them would be left standing by the time it was all over. For a second, he considered taking Clare and Martin, and running away from the whole thing, but that feeling passed as quick as it had come. His destiny was not written in the stars, it was written in the grime and filth of the streets he had been born on, the ones he still called home.  His tribe needed him, his time to be counted had come, and Darren would not falter in the face of the enemy, no matter what.

***

Across the city, Pete sat alone in his Jaguar, listening to the radio, while he watched children fight over the highest position on the climbing frame in the playground at the center of the park. Jimmy’s car glided up beside Pete's passenger door, and stopped. Pete was about to get out, but Jimmy’s door opened and he got out looking around, checking the few cars parked in the tiny gravel area for occupants. Pete knew they were empty because he had done exactly the same thing fifteen minutes ago. Once Jimmy was happy he opened Pete's passenger door, and ducked his head inside.

“Fancy taking a walk?” he said. It wasn’t a question that needed an answer. Pete got out of the car, clicking the button on the key, remotely locking all the doors. He followed Jimmy’s as he slowly strolled through the gate and into the park.

“Did you get it all stored away, boss?” asked Pete when he was level with Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Yea, it was all there and safe as houses. I sent out a new delivery, to replace what we lost this morning.”

“How much did they get?” asked Pete, pulling up the zipper on his jacket a little more to keep the cutting breeze out.

“Eighty thousand, street value.”

“Scum,” snarled Pete, his noes wrinkling up.

“You know what I can’t figure out, how they knew were the drop was going to happen,” said Jimmy. Pete knew better than to offer anything. He just walked along, shoulder to shoulder while Jimmy let his mind worry at the problem at hand.

“I think we have a snitch, Pete,” he said at last.

“But who'd do that?”

“There were only a few people that knew where that drop was going to happen. Me, you, Kenny, Niall and Fergal.”

"Any chance someone could have told someone else?” said Pete, and he quickly added, “I know I didn’t.”

“Could have, I guess, but its more than likely someone who knew for sure, and I sure as hell know it wasn’t me,” said Jimmy, giving Pete a chilling look.

“You don’t think it was me?”

“Don’t be stupid, of course I don’t. But we better keep an eye on Niall and Fergal.”

“Niall's still in the hospital with a crushed leg, and they nearly beat Fergal to death when they took down the score, they'd hardly do that to someone that was feeding them info.”

“They might have been trying to cover their tracks.”

“Hell of a way to do that, nearly killing them both.”

“Just keep an eye on them after they come out of the hospital. See if they do anything out of the ordinary.”

“I will, do you want me to pay the lad’s a visit in the hospital?”

“Na, just keep an eye on things. Don’t go tipping our hand. If we knew who it was feeding the Griffins info, we could use it to our advantage,” said Jimmy, walking on like he had nothing better to do than taking a stroll in last hours of sunshine. Across the park, the excited squeals of the playing children, filled the air with unbridled joy. Jimmy looked at them and smiled in the direction of the playground.

 “Can you ever remember being that young, Pete?” Jimmy said, nodding toward the playground.

Pete looked across the park and frowned.   “Do I remember being a Kid, you mean?”

“Yea,” said Jimmy, still smiling.

“I guess I do,” said Pete, not understanding what Jimmy was on about. Sometimes Jimmy had a habit of talking in riddles. Pete didn’t always understand him straight away but Jimmy always got to the point, at one stage or another. Pete knew he just had to wait and all would be revealed, that was why Jimmy was the boss.

“Everything seemed so simple where we were kids. Look at them, pushing and shoving each other down the rungs of the frame, always trying to be king of the castle,” said Jimmy, stopping and giving the playground his full attention. “It seems nothing's changed, after all, we're still trying to get to the top of the climbing frame, and when we're there we will do anything to stay there, Pete. These Griffin’s want to knock me off the top of my castle, and this time, there'll be more than a few scraped knees to show for it.”

“I guess so, boss,” said Pete, still not getting what the Griffins had to do with a playground full of kids.

“How do you stop people trying to knock you off the top of the climbing frame Pete?” asked Jimmy, turning to face Pete.

“Push them back down?” asked Pete, feeling sure he was right.

“No, Pete, not them, him. You get the first little runt that has the balls to try and climb to your level, you get that first dozy bastard, and you throw him all the way to the bottom, as hard as you can. That’s what you do, and let everyone else in the playground see it happening, that is how you stay King of the Castle,” said Jimmy, his eyes alive with cold fury.

Pete understood what Jimmy was saying, and nodded. Jimmy patted him on the shoulder before striding away toward the car, leaving Pete alone in the middle of a kid’s park, thinking dark thoughts of blood and death.

The Devil's Bridge

The Devil's Bridge

In the depths of a German national park, stands a structure so beautiful, it never fails to stun a viewer into silence. Your first glimpse of the Devils Bridge, and its mirror reflection, is something that will stay in your memory forever.

One fine day, a group of backpackers were staring, awestruck, at the impressive sight, while an elderly grounds man pruned some nearby bushes. The grounds man had seen the bridge a thousand times but never tired of its beauty, nor the affect it had on people.

“It’s wonderful,” said one girl, turning her head, this way and that, to take in the view from all angles.

“Amazing,” said another of the college kids.

“I love the way the reflection completes the structure,” said a small spotty faced guy, in a way that left the statement hanging, begging someone to question it. Foolishly, someone did.

“How do you mean, completes the structure?” asked one of the other boys. He was tall and handsome, but his eyes lacked the sharpness of wit.

“It’s obvious, the entire meaning of the structure, is the reflection,” said Mr Spotty with derision. “Just look at it, the combination of rock and water, combined with the perfect circle, half in reality, half in reflection, is a comment on the yin and yang of life. It’s a classically Japanese interpretation of being, capturing the ever changing pull of the universe.” 

The tall youth pointed to a sign nearby, and said, “It says there, that the bridge was built as a bet with the Devil, which he lost, sending him back to hell.”

“Complete codswallop,” said Mr Small and Spotty.

“You can’t just discount religion in this, Barry, after all, religion is the foundation of many fantastic construction projects,” added another student, clearly warming to the growing debate.

“Yes,” said another, “and, I disagree with your reasoning behind the intent of the structure. Surely he built it to display the possibility of multiple universes, existing side by side, with the one we inhabit.”

“I just think he wanted to get to the other side,” said a girl with a giggle.

“I still think it’s representing Heaven,” said the tall man. “Perhaps he intended it to be like the gateway into Heaven?”

“A gate, that’s it. It has to be a portal, built by aliens, to transport people across space,” said a guy wearing a Starwar’s tee-shirt.

“Cop on Gavin,” said Mr Spotty. “This is real life, not a movie.”

“It’s just as probable as what you said,” whinged Gavin, his feelings clearly hurt.

“What I said is a proven facet of world art history, not some pesents fairy-tale, not a depiction of a greater power, and most certainly not a magical portal built by little green men,” said Mr Spotty, resting his hands on his hips, dominating the rest of the group. 

As the grounds man listened to the unfolding discussion, he decided that the small guy was nothing short of a bully, and needed putting in his place.  He slowly got to his feet arching his aching back. Up to that point, the group seemed to be oblivious to his existence. “I can tell you the real reason the bridge was built, if you like,” said the old man.

“Please, do,” said Mr Small, with a wave of his hand, fully expecting to be proven right.

“As it happens, it was my great grandfather that designed and built that bridge. He brought me here to see it, when I was little more than a child. I remember asking him why he had built it,” the old man said, before bending to gather his pruning tools.

“And? What did he say?” asked Mr Spotty, impatiently.

The old grounds man turned him and smiled, “He said, he built it, because he could.”

At the back of the group, a small impish girl, who had not spoken once during the heated argument, smiled a dazzling smile. The grounds man smiled back at her before walking away. He was happy that at least one of them could see that sometimes, the simplest explanation, is the hardest to understand.