Silver Ch. 19-20

'Pfft, nothing serious – stupid things, joyriding, drugs...'

'Well, the gig's on Tuesday night. You think they'll be out in time? More to the point, you think they're up to the task?'

Richey shrugged, addressing Matt. 'Promise me one thing? You won't crucify me in the press.'

Matt promised he wouldn't, but no one could speak for Donnelly.

Having lulled the trio into a false sense of security, Richey sprang from the bar stool, lifting it up and marching to the back door, a mean look in his eye. 'There's only one way to sort this?'

Nick however was quick to react, ushering him aside. 'Richey no, you leave Donnelly to us.'

'What can you do? I'm fucked and you know it.'

'Richey, please, just calm down.'

'Not even some rat poison in his beer?'

'No, just give me time to think...and give me a couple of beers, rat poison-free please.'

Richey was coaxed into putting down the stool. 'You don't know how much this means to me Nick, really you don't. I need this break or...' he suggested, drawing a finger across his throat.

Nick looked back gravely, departing for the beer garden where the girls had been joined by Donnelly. The reason for his acceptance into their coven quickly became evident. Heads tilted, nostrils compressed and sniffing loudly, their eyes rolled in unison. Nick put down Donnelly's pint before taking a place on the end. 'Want a line?' enquired Monica.

Nick had done an experimental line or two in his younger days, but at that moment in time he needed his head to be in full working order. Before long Donnelly would be on the phone to London, nailing Richey's obituary to the mast. The odd thing was, before the weekend Nick could have imagined nothing more satisfying than to witness Richey's fall from grace to disgrace. Now, all he felt was an odd pity and the overriding urge to help his old mate. One thing was for sure, he had to delay Donnelly's return – yet how? Divine intervention was needed.

* * *

Two floors above, as the dark fingers of early evening began to stretch across the room Kelly watched the clock hit six. Lindsey would be expecting her in an hour and Kelly was having second, third and fourth thoughts on the matter. She needed someone to talk to, someone outside Penn. Reluctantly she hit the button on her mobile phone, the recorded message the last thing she wanted to hear. 'Hi Mum, it's Kelly – I need to talk. Please call me back as soon as you get this message.'

A minute later, the text arrived: can't talk now...at the hospital with Jan...call you back in an hour.

An hour? Kelly peeped at the clock willing it to slow down: 6.05 and counting. Divine intervention was needed.

Twenty

The banshee wail reverberated through the rafters causing those downstairs in the bar to look up. A flurry of movement, Nick led the procession upstairs as the screeching continuing unabated. It was emanating from the room at the end of the landing Nick was sharing with Pete and Matt. Twisting the handle, it was locked shut. Taking a step back he raised a foot, the decrepit bolt giving way easily under the forceful kick to reveal the source of the distress: the partially clothed Helen de Vil scrambling away from a naked Dave Donnelly.

Nudging past, the two elder sisters went to Helen's aid, eyeballing Donnelly who held his hands aloft in protest. Helen swayed listlessly, her head lolling back in Lindsey's arms. 'You dirty fucking pervert,' the elder sister cried. 'You spiked her drink.'

All eyes turned to the half-emptied glass on the chest of drawers. Donnelly held aloft his hands, eyes fixed on Nick. 'Oh surely you can come up with something better...'

'You bastard,' screeched Lindsey as Helen's eyes rolled and she began to retch whilst hyperventilating. 'You'll go down for this.'

The gravity of the situation dawning upon him, the colour drained from Donnelly's cheeks. 'No way,' he protested. 'This is bullshit and you know it. She came on to me.'

Before anyone could take the drink as evidence, Donnelly swept it to the floor. The contents pooled, fizzed and were absorbed into the carpet. 'She consented...end of...' he reasoned. 'You are not going to blackmail me with this crock of shite.'

'You're scum,' screamed Lindsey, face to face, her saliva pebble-dashing his face.

Instinctively Donnelly pushed her away. Lindsey stumbled and fell.

As the men moved forward, unexpectedly Donnelly swung. Nick swerved and Pete took the brunt, falling heavily. Glancing around the group and seething, Donnelly hissed: 'Anyone else want one?'

'You fucking bastard!' screamed Lindsey, rising and lashing out.

Donnelly caught the backhand and was about to dish out retribution when Nick stepped in between, easing Lindsey away. 'Leave it, he's not worth it.'

Turning to Donnelly he said with disdain: 'What a tough guy you are.'

'You want some, Silver?'

Nick scoffed, making light of the situation. 'I'd prefer it if you put your clothes back on first.'

Donnelly reddened, remembering he was nude. As he reached for his underwear Nick addressed the others: 'Can you leave me and Dave for a few moments please?'

Pete clambered to his feet, holding his jaw.

'Please,' Nick implored. 'Pete, Lindsey...'

Grudgingly the room cleared, Nick shutting the door behind.

Donnelly looked at his watch. 'Make it quick, Silver.'

Nick paced the room. 'Let me ask you something, Dave.'

'Ask away.'

'Did you see that story on the news the other day – that guy convicted of a murder he committed in 1978? A witness finally came forward after all those years.'

Donnelly scowled. He'd expected to be having Helen by now but instead was facing a cryptic grilling from Nick Silver. 'What the fuck are you on about, Silver?'

Nick came to the point. 'You remember Dave Bishop, don't you? I was speaking to him earlier.'

Donnelly shuffled a little uneasily as Nick continued. 'He's finally broken his silence after all these years...just like that other witness. All I can say is God only knows how you've lived with yourself all these years.'

Through a quivering bottom lip, Donnelly stammered: 'L-look Silver...Oi...Oi was only a kid at the time, Oi d-didn't even have a driving licence...they were s-so pissed they could hardly stand up. They needed someone to drive and loik a fool Oi said yes.'

'And then, when you crashed, you just ran away and left your brother to die...'

Donnelly lowered his head into the set of jewel-encrusted fingers. Looking up, he was ashen-faced. 'You don't think that hasn't haunted me every single day since. Yeah he was my brother and Oi killed him.'

Suddenly Donnelly stopped short, as if sensing a trap. Quickly his remorse was forgotten. 'Fuck off Silver, Bishop hasn't spoken to you. This is just more of your bullshit.'

Nick grinned. It was true, but it had worked. He had a confession. Donnelly snarled. 'If you expect the coppers to open up a twenty-three year-old case on the strength of your unsubstantiated word, you've another think coming, Silver. Good try but there's no way Oi'm falling for this.'

'So you think you can kill your brother and try to rape that girl and walk away from here scot-free?'

'Oi'd like to see you stop me,' he retorted. 'It's all about evidence and all you've got is your word against moin. And as for that rape shite...'

Donnelly moved to the door, making to leave. 'See you around, Silver.'

'Donnelly.'

'What now?'

'No evidence, you say? Take a look up at your right.'

Donnelly glanced up, his eyes meeting the CCTV camera lens in the corner of the room. Nick smiled. 'He always did love spying on people, did our Richey. I reckon there'll be more than enough evidence to get you put away for a long time.'

The colour emptied completely from Donnelly's face. He paced back across the room, causing Nick to rear back defensively. 'Okay Silver, let's cut to the chase. If you want me to keep my mouth shut and let you tell the world how much of a musical genius Osgood still is, then that's foin. And if you want to look a complete twat when it all blows up in his face, well that's foin as well. You realise you're only delaying the inevitable: on stage it'll speak for itself.'

Nick took a breath. 'To be honest Donnelly, I'll be happy if you go back to where you crawled out from and just forget about everything that's happened down here. And yes, that does mean giving Richey a break.'

'Oi still say you're wasting your time. Osgood is finished.'

'Maybe, but do we have a deal?'

'Yes we have a deal,' he concurred, letting himself out. 'Moy lips are sealed.'

The others lined the landing, forming an unfriendly gauntlet. Lindsey spat a stream of abuse causing Donnelly's face to contort. Donnelly hurried to the stairs. 'Oi'll be seeing you.'

Looking up, Kelly caught Lindsey's fiery eyes. The liaison all but forgotten, Kelly hurried to Pete's aid, assisting him into the bedroom and onto the bottom bunk. Placing a hand on his moistened brow, she assured him he'd be right as rain in the morning. Suddenly she jolted as a stray hand reached to stroke her inner thigh. Lifting upwards, the digits located the lacy material of her thong.

Exhaling deeply, Kelly was torn between issuing chastisement and letting him continue. Certainly there was no denying how quickly she'd become aroused in the wake of all that testosterone-heavy fighting. Reaching forward to unbutton his jeans, she deftly slid down the denim and boxers over the semi-hardness. All of a sudden he stopped her. 'Kelly, aren't we forgetting something?'

'Forgetting something? Oh right...um, have you any?'

'That wasn't what I...' he replied, indicating to the CCTV camera that observed their every move.

Kelly grinned, quickly locating a discarded sock to cover the peeping lens. Shuffling back to the bed, she whispered: 'Now, where were we?'

Climbing across, she straddled his belly before stopping once more. 'Though maybe we ought to...you know...precautions.'

Pete looked into her eyes. 'Would it...would it be such a terrible thing if we didn't? I happen to think you'd make a fantastic mother... and a fantastic wife.'

The words shocked both of them. Yet, amid the network of crazy thoughts circulating Kelly's head, motherhood was perhaps one of the least crazy. Maybe it was the ingredient her life was missing. She was, after all, solvent, intelligent and willing. It was merely a question of finding the right man. 'A fantastic wife as well, you said? Is that some kind of proposal?'

Pete winced. 'How about we shag first?'

Kelly stifled a smile, reaching for his inflating cock. At that moment the door burst open, almost breaking off its hinges. 'Stoppppppp!' cried a breathless Richey.

The couple looked up in surprise and anger but it was Richey that got in the first word. 'I know you're both going to hate me for this, but please hear me out.'

'Richey...can't this wait?' enquired Pete, covering his nakedness.

Richey took a seat opposite, perched on Nick's bed, wringing his hands and trying not to stare. 'This is important, believe me.'

Standing once more, he paced the room as if searching for the right words. 'I've been thinking about this a lot and about...you know, about being your father...'

'Not this again,' sighed Kelly. 'If you're not my father, please just leave me in peace.'

'No, hear me out. I did care a great deal for your mum back then and we were close pals, but the one thing I can say for certain is that we never slept together – ever. Hand on heart.'

'Not even a drunken one-night stand? Only mum seemed so sure it was you...'

Actually, now Kelly came to think about it, Liz had been anything but sure. As always the girl had heard only what she wanted to hear.

'I'd love to say so, really I would. And I'd love to have you as my daughter. But if your mother and me never had sex, and I'm 100% sure on that point, I can't possibly be your father.'

'But it was you that sent the money? Why would you do that?'

Richey took a long, deep breath. 'Out of a misguided sense of wanting to do the right thing, I guess. Your mum was a friend who'd fallen on hard times and I had the means to help her.'

Kelly rubbed her chin, trying to digest it all.

Pete was about to ask what this had to do with consummating their relationship when it struck him like a bolt of lightning. Instantly he was disconsolate, easing away and hardly bearing to touch Kelly. Having just uncovered the perfect girl, their relationship was doomed by Richard's denial, for if Kelly wasn't Richey's daughter, she was either Vaughn's or Kirk's. Either she was his cousin, or worse, his sister.

Okay, if they were cousins they wouldn't be breaking the law and could legally marry, though it was far from ideal. But if Kelly happened to be Kirk's daughter that made them half brother and sister and a sexual relationship was totally out of the question. With both men long dead, could they ever be sure? Could they risk having children? A 50/50 shot, it was inconceivable to continue the fledgling relationship. Kelly soon knew it too, fleeing to her room in tears. 'Sorry,' mouthed Richey.

'It's okay,' replied Pete, though he felt like throwing himself out of the window.

* * *

Down in the bar, Nick tipped back the double brandy, letting the caustic sensation burn his tonsils as, fresh from imploding Pete and Kelly's dream, Richey appeared. 'That was the hardest damned thing I've ever had to do,' he confessed.

'It's for the best though.'

'I'm glad you think so. They looked so happy together before I dropped the bombshell.'

'Yeah, well life has a habit of shattering dreams,' replied Nick cynically.

'Jeez Nick, lighten up. Here I am, about to go under any time now, but at least I can still at manage a smile.'

'Frankly Richey you've brought this all upon yourself. And stop turning the conversation back to you, you, you. Donnelly's off your back, you could at least be grateful.'

'Oh I am, believe me. Doesn't solve all my problems though, does it?'

'And I suppose you want more of my help.'

Richey paused, scratching his brow. 'You know, there might be one way out of this for me...a way I can get back on stage with the right people behind me, and yes I will need your help.'

Nick listened as Richey elucidated. At the end, he was left dumbstruck. 'No way, Richey, nooooooo fucking way.'

'But remember how good we used to be in the early days...'

'Oh come on Richey, you cannot be seriously suggesting we can be a band again. Even if I did agree, which I'm not going to in a million years, there's the small matter of a dead drummer and bassist.'

'I've considered that. I know for a fact Spike could be tempted back, and I've been in touch with Ryan Byrne. With you in we have ourselves a band, a bloody good band. Go on Nick, you'll enjoy yourself and it'll be a laugh.'

'A laughing stock, more like. No Richey, no, no, no, no, no.'

'Give me one good reason why.'

Nick outstretched his arms. 'Well for one, I haven't got it in me. Two, I haven't stood on a stage in twenty-four years. And three, I DON'T WANT TO. You need any more reasons?'

'It sounded to me like you still had it in you when you played earlier.'

'I strummed along for a giggle. It meant nothing. I'm no bloody rockstar, never was and never will be.'

The words took Nick quite by surprise. A quarter of a century in denial, of believing he could have succeeded were it not for outside influences, finally he had come to accept that rockstar was not his intended vocation. Even without Debra's arrival, he'd have struggled to make it through a second year.

'Are you sure?'

'YES I'M SURE.'

Richey cursed, skulking away to flick on the radio. Forgotten among the afternoon's drama, the Top Forty was approaching its climax. 'Your song's out tomorrow, right?'

'Yeah, so this time next week I'll be holding my breath if I'm still here to witness it.'

Nick ignored the self-pity.

From the radio came the announcement: 'Two songs remain on the official Top Forty, both new entries and both from acts making their chart debuts. In what has been one of the fiercest rivalries seen all year...'

'Listen,' whispered Richey. 'Can you hear?'

'Hear what?'

Richey indicated to the ceiling. '...the sound of breaths being held.'

The DJ continued: 'So who's at number two?'

The obligatory pause for effect, even Nick took a moment from his melancholy to listen.

'At number two... it's Devilicious.'

Richey issued a wry smile. 'Ouch. There'll be some bloody sacrifices out on Salisbury Plain tonight.'

'What, because they only reached number two? In our day we were over the moon making 48.'

'It was different back then.'

'So people keep telling me.'

* * *

Upstairs in their room, the sisters had been joined by Matt, a vice-like tension seeing them squeeze each other's hands. When the announcement was made that they were number two, Helen burst into tears as her elder sisters shook their heads furiously. 'You can still make it next week,' Matt offered in clumsy condolence.

'It never happens,' countered Lindsey. 'There'll be new songs out next week and we'll be forgotten.'

'Number two though – it's not a bad start. And you were up against...'

'Don't even mention that bitch's name in this room.'

Lindsey jumped from the bed, smashing the radio to the floor, stamping on it before the announcement.

* * *

Downstairs, however, they continued to listen. 'At Number One, making her chart debut, winner of Rock Hunt, it's Miranda Sharp.'

The pub phone rang and Richey stepped out of view, returning three minutes later with an odd smile on his face. 'You'll never guess who that was.'

'Hmm, let me think, Phil Collins, offering to be your new drummer?'

Richey frowned. 'Sarcasm doesn't become you, my friend. No, it was Larissa.'

Nick wasn't paying attention. He was busily fingering his phone, thinking what possible reason Jan might have to fail to respond in two whole days. It was unheard of in a quarter of a decade of marriage.

'My ex-wife is scared shitless by talk of the stalker,' Richey continued. 'I said she could spend a couple of days down here with us until Candice's safely back behind bars where she belongs.'

Both looked up as Matt entered the bar, weighted down with bags. 'The girls have had enough,' he revealed. 'They're bored and want to go home.'

'Had enough? Bored? Going home? They can't do that – the gig's on Tuesday...' Richey protested.

'Believe me, they've had enough,' Matt replied.

The sisters arrived in the back bar to issue sour-faced goodbyes before disappearing into a waiting taxi. 'Plan b then,' Richey mumbled under his breath, the words unheard to Nick.

An hour of almost complete silence passed, during which time Pete and Kelly trudged down to mooch at the bar. It was evident to even the most heartless soul how deep their feelings ran, only to be denied by treacherous biology. Consequently, despite their exit, the mood was even blacker than when the Devilicious girls had been around.

Yet two fresh additions to the congregation that Sunday evening would change the tone. First up, Richey's estranged wife Larissa entered through the back door, her BMW X5 occupying the spot previously occupied by her husband's errant Porsche. As introductions were made, Pete recalled the poolside image from earlier. However, his bubble was burst when Richey leaned to whisper in his ear: 'Don't even think about it until you've a six-figure bank balance.'

In any event, his allegiance was to Kelly, the girl he couldn't have. Whenever they brushed close or their eyes met, both just wanted to reach out and take the other in hand. It was unbearable.

Ten minutes later Richey clapped for attention, speaking nervously. 'Okay everyone, I've, um, I've one more announcement to make...um, there's been some speculation this weekend as to whether I'm a father,' he added, a consolatory glance Kelly's way before continuing. 'For a short while it seemed I might even have two long-lost daughters...'