“Nothing, just some friendly banter, isn’t that right Jack?” said Ryan, staring Jack down, willing him to go against him.
“Aye, aye,” stammered Jack. “Just having a wee chat. I’ll get off now you’re back Kate,” he said, taking off the apron that was tied around his waist and handing it to Kate.
“Oh, OK well I’ll see you later then,” said Kate, a bit taken aback at Jack’s abrupt departure. He would usually hang around until closing and help with Joe and the clearing up. She thought back to how he had been this morning and wondered if her old friend wasn’t well? She made a mental note to call into his cottage later and check up on him.
Ryan was furious. He should sack that bitch Janice or teach her a lesson in keeping her mouth shut. He thrust his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket as he walked back to The Kingfisher at a furious pace. Who the fuck did she think she was anyway? Just some washed up old hag of a barmaid that had nothing better to do with her time. He’d show her, he thought. No one stood in his way. His mind raced with the possibilities. If it wasn’t for his old man, he’d have her out on her arse, maybe make her disappear. But Jack, well that was a different problem altogether. He knew the bond that Kate had with him, and with Joe for that matter. Keeping the interfering old bastard out of the way posed a bit of problem. He slowed his pace as he pondered how to deal with this dilemma. He somehow had to drive a wedge between the bond they’d developed.
He was pleased with how things had gone so far. He thought back to their walk at Flowerdale the previous day. Winning Joe round was always going to be the easy part; kids are so trusting. He hadn’t expected Kate to drop her defences so easily though, she must be starved of affection he thought, smiling to himself. He knew she’d expected him to kiss her, which was exactly why he’d pulled away and changed the subject. Slowly does it, he thought, too much, too soon would have her running for the hills. But there was a timeline he had to work to, and interference from Jack was something that he just didn’t need – or could be arsed with. Maybe it would be easier to make Jack disappear.
Reaching the pub, Ryan decided to have a quiet pint and give it some thought. He knew there must be a way, and he looked forward to the challenge.
11
Ryan accepted the charges and greeted his old mate. “Now then, how’s it going?” he said cheerfully into the mouthpiece. He’d stepped outside as soon as he’d seen the blocked caller ID. Only two people had this number and one of them was currently toying with bacon rolls and tea-making in the café.
“How do you fucking think? Only got 10 minutes, what’s happening?” asked Daz.
“Not much to be fair. Weather’s shit as usual,” replied Ryan, knowing damn well that wasn’t what Daz meant.
“Stop being a twat and tell me what’s going on,” demanded Daz, his voice rising.
Ryan moved out of the wind and stood in the sheltered doorway of the pub. “Like I said, not much.” He thought back to the walk at Flowerdale and wondered if he should tell his mate that he was making inroads again on Daz’s former missus. Probably not a good idea if he wanted his payout, though he was quite sure Daz wouldn’t care.
“Taking time, aren’t I? Got to build up trust and that,” he settled on; the less information shared over the phone the better.
“What about Joe?” asked Daz, his voice softening on his son’s name.
“Yeah, sound little lad, always up to mischief, takes after his old man.” Ryan laughed at his own joke.
Daz was quickly losing his patience and not for the first time wondered if Ryan was the right person for the job. “And what about the plan?” asked Daz, careful not to say too much knowing that all phone calls were monitored. It had been hard enough getting a new number added to his allowable phone call list.
“It’s all under control pal, don’t worry,” Ryan reassured him.
“For sure?” asked Daz.
“Fuck’s sake man, yes I’m sure, I’m not some fucking amateur,” spat Ryan.
Daz backed down, not something he did very often. “Right, well keep me up to speed. I’ll get my release date next week,” he said and hung up.
“Prick,” they both said as the call ended, without the other hearing.
12
Gairloch, Late Spring 2000
“Come here buddy, let’s fasten that shoelace before you trip up,” called Ryan as Joe went tearing along the harbour. Joe stopped and looked at his feet. He knelt down, determined to tie his own shoelace. He made the bunny loops with his little fingers and tried to cross them over each other, failing miserably, getting too many fingers involved. Ryan caught up with him and tied it for him instead. As soon as he was done, Joe was off again.
“Does that boy ever stay still?” wondered Ryan, shaking his head. He offered to take Joe off Kate’s hands for a while, mostly to stop him from getting under her feet. It was a Friday afternoon and there had been a sudden rush in the café. With school holidays just around the corner, Joe had finished at lunchtime and worked his way through copious amounts of food and most of the books in the book corner. Ryan had called in at the café on the off chance that he’d catch Kate alone but no such luck. When she complained about Joe getting bored, he saw the perfect opportunity to build his friendship with Joe and offered to take him off for a walk. Kate had been extremely grateful, as long as it didn’t inconvenience Ryan too much. Ryan had almost laughed in her face, then remembered himself and assured her it was no big deal.
“Why do you like the harbour so much Joe?” asked Ryan, taking hold of the little one’s hand.
“Cos it’s always different,” replied Joe. “And when I come with Jack, we look at the birds through bidoculars,” he said matter of fact, clearly peeved that Ryan didn’t have any with him.
“You mean binoculars,” said Ryan, laughing at the slip-up. Joe looked up at Ryan, unaware that he’d said it wrong, and tried to wriggle free from Ryan’s hand.
“Hey, what’s the matter? Don’t you want to hold my hand?” asked Ryan, feeling the little fingers pulling away. Having not spent much time with seven-year-olds he’d assumed you were supposed to hold their hands but maybe not.
“No, I’m a big boy. I only hold hands when I’m crossing the road,” pronounced Joe.
“Is that right? Well, I don’t want you to run away,” said Ryan, letting go. He didn’t want the boy to feel uneasy in his company. ‘Slowly, slowly catch a monkey’, thought Ryan as he watched the lad run to the head of the harbour. Ryan caught up with him.
“Have you ever been on a boat Joe?” asked Ryan, pointing at the pleasure boats in the harbour.
“Yes, mum once took me on the glass-bottomed one. We saw all sorts, lots of jellyfish too,” replied Joe, recounting the story. Ryan let the child ramble on, not really paying attention. His thoughts were miles away when he heard a scream coming from Joe’s direction. He scanned around and couldn’t see Joe anywhere. Other people along the harbour had heard the scream too. Ryan set off running towards where the sound had come from. He pushed through the crowd that had gathered and saw Joe laying on the seaweed-ridden slope that led down to the jetty.