Ahead of his Time Page 23

  I was correct; it was Martin.

  33

  TCP

  After relaying our conversation to Jen, we agreed she would get Beth home, and I would zip up to Don’s house. As the police hadn’t been called, we decided we’d leave it that way until I’d caught up with Don. I could see Jenny was worried and asked me to be careful, grabbing me before I went and hugging me tightly.

  Don stood hunched with his thick Crombie coat on in the driveway as I pulled up and abandoned the car on the slew, jumping out of the car before the engine had even had time to cut itself off.

  Don shouted across to me, “Son, don’t panic; we’re all okay.”

  “What’s happened? You’re okay, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, son, I’m alright. Come on, you better come in.”

  I followed Don as he shuffled into number eight. Closing the front door, I noticed the Yale lock hanging loose on the inside with splinters of wood sticking at right angles to the frame. Don stood in the kitchen doorway and blocked my view. However, as I shimmied around him, I could see Martin sitting at the kitchen table, his head back and staring at the ceiling as he held a scrunched up blooded tea towel to his nose. A young woman I’d never seen before, I guess in her early thirties, stood beside him dabbing various cuts to his face with a dishcloth.

  “Martin, you okay?”

  “Fricking hell, dick-head, do I look it?” he nasally replied, as if auditioning for a flu remedy advert. “You should see the other guy!”

  The young woman tipped her head sideways and looped her dark hair around her right ear as she continued to dab away at Martin’s battered face, which now resembled a splat pizza. She glanced in my direction and smiled.

  I returned a tight smile. “Hi, I’m Jason,” not sure what else to say.

  “Yes, I know who you are. My eldest, Craig, is a first-year student at the school. He thinks you’re great!”

  “Oh, thanks. That’s nice to hear.”

  “Yes, he’s really enjoying school at the moment. He thinks you’re hilarious at assemblies.” She stopped dabbing and looked up at me. “I’m Nicole, by the way.”

  “Hello.” I smiled again. “Well, I not supposed to be hilarious, so I may have to change tack on that one.”

  Nicole moved over to the sink to wash out the cloth in a bowl of water that contained copious amounts of TCP, judging by the pungent smell engulfing the kitchen. Fair play to Martin, though, as I would be yelping every time that liquid touched me.

  “No, no, sorry. I meant that he really enjoys them. He says he learns a lot, and it’s good fun,” Nicole replied, as she prepared to attack Martin’s face again with a fresh cloth.

  Martin tipped his head forward, gingerly taking the cloth from his face. “When you two have stopped talking about the Jason Apsley fricking fan club, perhaps we might discuss how I ended up looking like this!”

  “Easy, son. Tip your head back again. It’s running out of your nose,” said Don, as he pulled at a chair opposite Martin and eased himself in. Nicole bent Martin’s head back and pinched the top of his nose.

  “You seem to know what you’re doing.” I said, as she stood there, pinching his nose and holding Martin’s wrist, presumably feeling his pulse. Although he was very much alive based on the continued liberally thrown obscenities pouring out of his mouth.

  “I should do as I’m a nurse at Fairfield General. Ha, and there was I thinking we were going to have some fun this evening, not continue to carry on my duties from today.”

  Martin grinned as she removed her fingers from his nose and placed a damp cloth on his forehead.

  “Met Nicole this afternoon; always been a sucker for a girl in uniform.”

  Nicole gave him a wink and a seductive grin. Christ, he even had that magnetic pull when he was beaten up.

  “Yeah, okay, whatever. Now can we run through what’s happened?”

  “Gents, I’m going to clean up in the bathroom. Martin, keep the pressure tight at the top of your nose,” said Nicole, as she dried her hands, tossed the towel on the draining board and left the kitchen.

  “Can you bring my glasses down? They’re on the bathroom window sill,” Martin shouted after her.

  He tipped his head back and kept the cloth to his nose. “So, I got back after the pub and waved to Don as I got out of the car. It all seemed pretty normal then, but I did spot an old Ford Capri park up outside Don’s but thought nothing of it. I was going to have a wash and change before Nicole came around when some tosser started hammering on the door. I knew it wasn’t Nicole, as it was like someone was trying to break it down.” He rechecked the cloth for signs of fresh blood, “Fuck, he’s broken my nose.”

  “Yes, son, I saw him pull up a few seconds after Martin. I was standing having a cuppa, just looking about out of the window. Knew exactly who it was as soon as he got out of the car.”

  “Paul Colney?”

  “Indeed. He marched straight up to the door and started hammering on it. Wasn’t sure what to do at that point.”

  Martin looked up, satisfied his nose had stopped bleeding. “Yeah, and before I could even get down the stairs, he’d kicked the fricking lock in.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I just froze on the spot for a second … I couldn’t believe what he’d done! Then I think I told him to get the fuck out. That’s when he leapt up, grabbed me and dragged me down into the hallway. I think he punched me in the face at that point and pinned me against the wall. He started shouting at me that I’d been on the flats’ roof the day his brother died.”

  I shot Don a look. He nodded. Both of us, I was sure, were thinking the same thing.

  Martin threw the blooded towel on the table. “Give us one of your cigarettes.”

  I fished them out of my pocket and tossed them on the table.

  “It was at that point I thought I’d better come around and see what was going on. I saw him boot and then shoulder the door in,” Don added, as Martin lit his cigarette, his hand still shaking as he tried to line up the end with the lighter flame.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t wallop you as well. He didn’t I take it?”

  “No, son. Time I’d found my coat and shuffled over he was coming out of the front door.”

  Martin eventually managed to light the cigarette, blew out smoke to the ceiling and carried on. “The bastard kept ranting that he knew the driver of my car was at the flats that day, and I better start talking. The fucker then headbutted me! That’s when he broke my nose, I think. I told him I’d only had the car a couple of weeks, but he didn’t believe me, so he laid into me again. I managed to get a few swings at him that connected with his head, so the bastard didn’t come off scot-free.”

  “So did he just leave then?”

  “No … after I had landed a few punches to his face, he got the upper hand. He’s a big bloke you know.”

  I touched my nose and nodded. “Yes, I know. I’ve a broken nose by his hand as well.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you have. Typical, you always have to go one better don’t you? I can't even have a broken nose on my own. For fuck sake mate, I’m the one who’s been beaten up because of what you did! It’s always the same with you, Apsley. Whatever carnage you cause, some other fucker has got to clear up the bloody mess!”

  I held my hand up and shot Don a quick glance which he knew was my suggestion to be quiet as I could see he was about to tear a strip off Martin. But to be fair, Don only knew me in this life and not Jason Twat Apsley from my previous existence. Don performed his fish mouth routine, then shut up as he clocked my glance.

  “Okay, sorry, mate. What happened then?”

  “Well, as I said, he had the upper hand and pinned me to the floor. He wanted to know who I was and who I’d got the car from. He said if I lied, I was as good as dead. The bastard wasn’t joking!”

  “Jesus! What did you tell him?”

  “I told him I got it from the car-lot down the road. That’s where you sold it to, ain’t it
?”

  I nodded. “It is.”

  “Sorry, Jason. I know that’s put you in the shit. I can hold my ground, and I don’t lose fights very often. But this bastard was going to kill me!”

  I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Martin, don’t worry. We'll figure something out.”

  “What we going to do, son?” Don looked concerned, and rightly so.

  “I don’t know. Somehow, he’s connected me to the flats on the day David died. We thought no one saw us, but someone must have. But if they did, why didn’t they say something at the time or call the police?”

  “You’re forgetting the type of person who lives up there. No one on the Broxworth talks to the Old-Bill. And if the Colney boys are involved, they all keep schtum.”

  “Yeah, and to think that nutter could be my father!”

  Don and I both shot Martin a look. Mine was eyes bulging, urging him to correct his time travel balls-up. Don’s was utter confusion about what he’d just said.

  Martin waved his hands in the air. “What?”

  “Son, what are you talking about? Paul Colney, your father … you’re older than him.”

  “Martin, I think you're concussed, mate.” I nodded and raised my eyebrows, willing him to realise what he’d said.

  Martin frowned as his eyes shifted back and forth between Don and me.

  “Son, you okay?”

  He shook his head, blinked and looked down at the table. “Yeah, sorry, I must have got confused for a moment. Maybe I am concussed.”

  Nicole opened the kitchen door and stepped up to Martin. “I don’t think you’ve got concussion. Let me look at you again.” She turned his head in her hands and stared into his eyes. “Is your vision blurred? Do you feel dizzy?”

  “No. no, I’m okay.”

  “Okay. I think perhaps up to bed for a while is what is needed.”

  “Now you’re talking, girl,” he grinned and grabbed her jean-clad bottom.

  “There’s nothing wrong with him!”

  34

  Black Queen

  Nicole said she could stay, as her kids were at her mother’s for the evening. I guessed Martin’s planned night of frolicking with his newly acquired nurse friend wasn’t going to pan out as he’d hoped.

  Don and I decamped back to his house to leave Martin and Nicole to do whatever. And to think only yesterday, he was enjoying the delights which Randy-Mandy had to offer – he really was quite unbelievable. I wondered what Nicole would make of his tattoos if she was given the opportunity to see them. As I was starting to get to know Martin better, I was in no doubt he would make every effort to ensure she did.

  Don produced two glasses of whisky. I ensured mine was a small one after the pint in the pub. All I needed now was to get breathalysed, and the day would just be perfect.

  “What we going to do, Don? Colney ain’t going to stop until he finds me.” I performed an involuntary shudder at the thought.

  “Not sure at the moment. One thing for certain, he’ll want to deal with it his way and won’t be reporting it.”

  “I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”

  “No, agreed.”

  “He’ll be up at Coreys Mill Motors next. I don’t think Mr Thacker is the sort to tell him anything. But as we have just seen, Paul Colney can be quite persuasive!”

  Don took a large gulp of his drink, grimaced and topped up his glass. I thought he looked older tonight. He was eighty, and the thought of what Paul Colney would have done to him if he’d shuffled across to Martin’s a minute earlier sent another shiver through me.

  “If he causes a scene at Coreys Mill Motors tomorrow, and the police get called, then the circumstances of David’s death will all come to light. I’ve only just stopped looking over my bloody shoulder, expecting to be arrested. Now it’s all starting again!”

  “Son, calm down. Come on, take a seat,” he gestured to the chairs around the kitchen table, then pulled out the nearest chair and gingerly sat whilst still wearing his thick overcoat. “Right, as I see it, someone has mouthed off to Paul that they’ve seen a man get into that Cortina after David fell from the roof. So that means he doesn’t know who. Also, I suggest he doesn't definitely know the driver was responsible for David’s death.”

  With my head in my hands, I racked my brain to work out our next move. I felt we were nearly facing checkmate. Paul Colney was the Black Queen systematically scything through my defences, and now we’d reached the point of Check. I had nowhere to go and was only a hand full of moves away from Checkmate.

  “That may be. But in the next couple of days he’s going to get the information he wants, and then he’ll know it was me.” I blew out my cheeks and huffed. Whatever I did, I had to keep him away from Jenny and the kids.

  I leant back in the chair and took a sip of my whisky. “Did he see you today? I’m just thinking he knows the connection we have. He may then start joining all the dots without the need to turn Mr Thacker upside down.”

  “No, son, I don’t think he did. As I was crossing the driveway, he came barrelling out of the house. He didn’t turn and look at me, and by the time he got to the car, I’d probably made it inside.”

  “Don, there’s another development that I need to make you aware of.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh! I have a daughter from a relationship a long time ago. She surfaced for the first-time last week. To cut a long story short, we met a week last Wednesday. And you won’t believe this, but she’s now living in Carol’s old flat.”

  “Good grief! You two kept that one well under wraps. I take it she’s not a child then? And living on the Broxworth … oh dear.”

  “She’s twenty. What did you mean you two kept it under wraps?”

  “You and Jenny.”

  I rubbed the back of my head and looked away from Don, embarrassed at what I was about to say. “Err well … Jenny doesn’t know … yet.”

  “Son—”

  I didn’t look at him.

  “Son?” I slowly turned my head. As always, my close friend was there for me. Not judgemental, but there as support. I could see it in his eyes, and I knew I needed to explain.

  “I’m just getting used to the idea that I have a daughter. I keep wanting to tell Jenny about her … but … it’s been difficult with the situation with you-know-who.” I nodded in the direction of Martin’s house.

  “Okay, son. And what is that situation with him next door? Are you ready to tell me?”

  I shook my head. I hated not being able to tell him the truth – but the truth just wasn’t possible. As always, Don respected my non-disclosure without judgement or disappointment that I couldn’t confide in him.

  “Alright, son, that’s okay. As I said before; when you’re ready. But you said you are only just getting used to the idea of your daughter. Are you saying you didn’t know you had a daughter until last week?”

  “No, no. I knew but never met her before.”

  “And she’s definitely yours?”

  “Oh yes, she’s mine.” But she wasn’t, and only I and George knew that. Jesus, why was everything so bloody complicated.

  “Not sure what that’s got to do with our current situation?” Don peered over the top of his glasses. He knew there was more to this, so he waited for me to continue the story.

  “Right, well, listen to this, because unbelievably it gets worse. Jess, that’s her name, had a spot of bother with Paul Colney. Last week after the bombing, he stashed some drugs in her flat for fear of police raids.”

  “Oh, bloody hell. She’s your daughter and in league with him!”

  “It gets even worse … far, far worse. She’s pregnant … and … the father is Patrick Colney!”

  Don held his whisky glass just short of his mouth, shaking his head. “Stone-the-crows! What a mess!”

  Don offered me the bottle of whisky. I shook my head, and he knew not to push it.

  “Hang on, son, let me get this straight. Paul Colney doesn’t know y
ou’re her father?”

  “No. well, I don’t think so. I get the impression Jess absolutely detests him.”

  “Right. And does Paul know this daughter of yours is pregnant?”

  “No, not that either. She’s not showing, and I’m reasonably sure she’s only told her mother and me.”

  “And Patrick, I would presume?”

  “Possibly.”

  “So have you seen her mother recently then?” I shook my head. “Son, if you have, and not told Jenny that ain’t good. Mark my words, my boy, it’ll all end in tears.”

  “Don, no. I’ve had no contact with her for over twenty years.” The truth is we’d never had contact. Pretty impressive to produce a child in that scenario – the immaculate conception. Shove that up your arse, Lisa’s mum! “I’ll give you Jaffa, huh!”

  “Sorry, son? Don looked at me with that same confused look that he’d shot Martin with his outburst about Paul Colney being his father.

  “Oh, Nothing, Don. I was mumbling out loud.”

  “Did you want a Jaffa cake? I have some in the tin.”

  “Oh, no. ignore me.” Christ, Don must think I’ve concussion along with my sex-mad tenant next door. And as for Jaffa cakes, well, I know most of the planet love them, but for me, they were one rung up from Wagon Wheels and not much better than Nice biscuits.

  “Right, okay, this is becoming complicated. And bloody odd what the boy said about Paul Colney being his father.” Don pondered that thought and rubbed his chin. “We’ve said all along they do look very similar. Ha, silly idea, he must have really banged his head in that fight.”

  “I’m sure he’s okay. Right Don. So, we have to worry about Paul going to Coreys Mill Motors and possibly coming back to see Martin. I think I’d better get down to see Mr Thacker first thing in the morning and give him the heads up of what is coming over the horizon. Then we can take it from there.”

  “Yes, son. I think you’re right. But make sure Paul doesn’t see you there. Otherwise, he is going to start to join the dots, so to speak.”