Reckless Page 3

  “I won’t be long.” She doesn’t protest and I leave through the back gate. A heaviness has set on my shoulders. Was that really life? Did we settle for good? Was love for fools?

  The backstreet behind our row of houses is empty as the sky darkens overhead. Being out alone sinks in and I move faster down the alleyway. I’m ready to let out a deep breath as I move towards the mouth of the alleyway that will lead out onto the sidewalk when a man with a peaky cap steps out in front of me.

  I lower my gaze and try to walk around the man. An arm tightens around my waist. Green eyes smile down at me and I shiver at the intentions I see in his eyes. His fingers prod into my side.

  “Excuse me,” I try to sound brave and push away but his hold on me tightens. Hair’s rise all over my body and it’s like the air has been whipped from my lungs.

  “Let me go.” I try to keep the panic out of my voice but it rattles my words.

  “No need to be like that.” He’s moving us back into the alleyway.

  “My father will be looking for me.” I’m trying to keep an eye on our steps and what’s behind the man. The iron grip that he keeps on me is making my wriggling useless.

  Rough cold brick pokes through the light material of my work dress.

  “You let me go now or I’ll start screaming.” He licks his lips, teeth stained from cigarette smoke that clings to his clothing too. His large hand covers my mouth quickly. Pressing heavily across my mouth restricts me from biting.

  “Just be quiet. It will be quick.” Using his body he keeps me pinned against the wall and my lungs can’t seem to find air. Closing my eyes tightly I try to imagine whatever this is, is over. The rattle of his belt has me tightening my eyes. Warm breath on my face has me looking at him. I scream against his hand uselessly. My head connects with the wall. Blackness coats my vision but clears quickly. His breathing is heavier now as he strokes himself against me. I shift my legs closer together and he doesn’t flinch at my movement. Warmth spreads across the top of my thigh and I don’t know what just happened. He’s releasing me stepping away from me while buckling his belt. I can’t move. I can’t look away from him. My vision blurs with tears obscuring my view. He’s no more than a shadow walking away.

  “Margret.”

  I blink and tears fall clearing my vision. I push away from the wall. My cheeks burn. Michael is at the end of the alleyway with another man who is holding the man who did something to me. I’m looking at my leg now to see if it’s blood. A white substance still coats my leg and heat burns my ears.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I tell Michael. I can’t let him see this. He’ll think I’m soiled. I’m turning my back on him.

  “You’re bleeding,” I can feel the warmth on my neck.

  “She came onto me.” The man’s words have my eyes filling with shame.

  “I need to go home.” I turn to go back down the alleyway but Michael stops me with a gentle hand. Turning me slowly I don’t look into his eyes as fear seems to grip my throat.

  I know the moment he sees the other man’s seed on my leg. The sharp intake of breath and then he releases me. I want to curl up or run.

  “Wait…” The man who had done this is struggling in the large man’s hands as Michael walks towards him. Fists clenched shoulders tense. He doesn’t pause as his fist smashes into the man’s face. I cover my own face at the ferocity of the impact.

  I can’t look away as Michael continues to hit him, repeatedly. There’s so much blood.

  “Michael.” My word is only a whisper and I swallow.

  “Michael,” I say louder taking a shaky step towards him.

  He doesn’t hear me.

  “Michael, stop.” The man is limp in the large man’s hands but Michael isn’t stopping.

  “Michael, please…” I’m moving faster. It’s not until I reach him and place a hand on his back. “Stop.” Glancing at me over his shoulder a vicious snarl twists his mouth.

  It takes him a few seconds to lower his fists and step away from the man who I’m not sure is alive.

  Chapter Eight

  Michael O’Reagan

  My hands don’t feel sore enough, anger still courses through me. I’ve lowered my hands but I’m not done. Not even close.

  “Michael, please.” Margret’s soft words have me closing my eyes. They aren’t soothing me, I want to kill him. I take three steps away. I can’t let her see that. Her lip trembles as she stares at me. Her brown eyes glassy and unsure.

  There is something in the way she stands that has me nodding at Johnny before approaching Margret.

  “Let’s get you home.” She bites her lip and nods. Wrapping an arm carefully around her I walk her back to her house. We are at the bottom of the garden when her mother comes frantically out.

  “You were gone for so long…” Her words trail off as her eyes roam Margret before coming to me. I don’t see the disgust I thought I would see.

  “Thank you for bringing her home.” She quickly steps up to the other side of her daughter.

  “What happened?”

  I don’t want to hear what happened. I can already tell what that dirty fucker did to her. I release her as we step through the back door. The small kitchen smells like burnt toast.

  “I’m okay, Mother.” Margret’s voice is stronger now.

  Her hands try to cover her leg but she doesn’t touch them either.

  “I need a bath.” She’s standing not looking at either of us as she vacates the room.

  I take a step towards the door. “You stay here.” Her mother’s words are harsh so I remove my jacket as she tends to her daughter. Rolling up my sleeves I start to wash the blood from my hands. Red flecks have dotted my white shirt. It wasn’t enough. Johnny would keep him alive until I returned later. The soft cries have me turning off the tap and moving to the kitchen door.

  “Shh baby girl. You’re safe.” Her mother’s soothing words have me leaning against the wall. I’m not sure how long I stay there listening to Margret tell her mother what happened while she cries. The back door opens and I’m face to face with her father. Using my foot I close the kitchen door not wanting the ladies to hear him, as I’m sure by the snarl on his face that he’s going to start.

  His eyes widen when they land on the blood on my shirt.

  “Where is my daughter?”

  “Having a bath,” I answer and his nostrils flair. Setting a lunch bag on the table he removes a tatty old coat.

  “Get out of my home.”

  “No.” I roll down my sleeves allowing him to see all the blood.

  His eyes widen again and he marches from the room. My instinct is to grab the old man and keep him away from Margret, but I remind myself that he’s her father. I’m standing at the door listening, ready to spring if I need to.

  “She’s fine.” It’s Margret’s mother who speaks.

  “What’s that man doing in my kitchen?”

  “David, keep your voice down.”

  I grin as Margret’s mother hisses at him.

  “I’ll do no such thing woman. This is my home.” His raised voice is making it hard for me to stay still.

  “He brought her home.”

  “What did he do to her?”

  “He stopped something bad from happening. You should be thanking him.”

  His gruff huff is loud. “Margret.” The way he calls her is rough. A door opens.

  “I’m fine, Father.” Her voice is small but I’m filled with relief at hearing the sound.

  “I want him out of my home.” The stamping on the stairs had me stepping back into the kitchen.

  “Daddy, please.” Margret follows on her father’s heels, her mother after them, as he bursts into the kitchen.

  “Get out of my home.” He’s pointing at the door. Margret won’t look at me and a fear starts to grow. If I leave now, I will have lost her.

  “We are getting married,” I say to her father. I don’t loo
k at Margret for approval or her mother I keep my focus on her father. “She’s going to be my wife, David, whether you like it or not.”

  It’s only now that I look at Margret. She’s covered her mouth with her hand. Her damp hair hangs around her shoulders.

  “We are?” The smile that accompanies her words has me smiling too.

  “We are.”

  Her mother’s claps are filled with joy. Margret leaves her parents and steps into my arms.

  “I love you.” Her words fill me up and make me taller. I’ve never felt so proud. I’ve built an empire from nothing but hearing those words from Margret are so much more.

  “I love you too,” I say and she holds me tighter.

  I finally look at her parents over her shoulder. Her mother’s crying while her father’s face is set in stone. But he has stopped telling me to get out.

  Holding Margret’s face between my hands makes me forget that someone tried to hurt her, or her father who stands behind us with fire in his eyes. Fire that I often see in Margret’s. Right now that look of wonder that I often want to capture sparks and fires in her eyes. Bringing my lips to hers she doesn’t stop me. It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough to leave my mark.

  “It’s sealed now.” It’s Margret’s mother who speaks up. Margret turns in my arms and the look of happiness on her face is mirrored in her mothers.

  “Sealed with a kiss.” There’s something that passes between mother and daughter that I don’t fully understand but it’s lovely to see.

  Chapter Nine

  Margret Hegarty

  My mother makes tea to celebrate, she does the best with what she has but having Michael sitting at our table is more than I could have wished for. I can’t take my eyes off him. My husband. I’m smiling around mouthfuls of food. I’m eating without tasting. I’m even managing to ignore my father’s watchful and most likely disapproving eye. My stomach lifts and drops every time Michael’s eye meets mine. Marriage has such a strong meaning. It’s the two of us forever. It’s me giving myself to him. His hands on my flesh. My skin burns at the thought and I push it away remembering that my parents were either side of me.

  “So where will my daughter be living?” My father’s gruff question doesn’t alter my mood. It’s exciting to think I will live somewhere else.

  “Whitewood house.” There’s a lull in the room. I can’t believe he’s saying he lives in Whitewood house.

  “On the grounds?” My mother asks.

  Michael’s smile is quick. “No. Mrs Hegarty. In the main house. It’s mine. Well, will be mine and Margret’s soon.”

  My father coughs loudly but I’m picturing what the inside of my new home would look like. Color rises up my chest. What our home must look like compared to his. Whitewood house was a mansion and a fascination to most of us in the area. It was gated, and you only got to see through the gates but the white house was far off in the distance. All of a sudden this felt like a fairy-tale.

  “Where will you get married?” My father fires the question at Michael more forcefully.

  “That would of course be Margret’s choice.”

  I know my mother is watching me expectantly. “My parents married here in Monalty church,” I say and Michael nods.

  “Monalty church it will be then.”

  “More tea?” My mother is half standing ready to pour looking prouder by the second. My father declines and it’s then I notice he hasn’t touched anything on his plate.

  My mother holds most of the conversation about my dress and what food would be served. Each time I look to Michael he smiles and tells me it is all up to me. He looks so relaxed in our home. My father is growing more and more sullen and he doesn’t stop even long after Michael leaves with a promise of returning tomorrow evening.

  Once he’s gone, my father can’t seem to hold his anger in any longer.

  “David, please.” My mother’s warning falls on deaf ears.

  “How can you sit there knowing what that man does for a living?”

  Something uncomfortable slithers up my spine. I wasn’t sure what he did, I just knew you didn’t cross him and it wasn’t above board.

  “He loves our daughter.” My mother sounds so sincere her words have me looking at her.

  “Love. You would base all this on love?” Anger swipes across the table like a wet cloth and I want to evacuate the kitchen.

  “Why not? Maybe it will be enough.” My mother holds her head up high as she speaks.

  “He will be the death of our daughter.” The pain in my father’s eyes radiates across the floor and manages to pierce some part of me.

  “Father, he saved me today.” I step forward.

  “That’s today.” My father steps towards me, hands hanging at his side and there is such a look of defeat in his eyes. “What about tomorrow? What about when me and your mother aren’t here anymore?”

  My throat tightens. “Don’t say that.” I want to naively state that they will always be here, but that wasn’t true. “He would never hurt me.”

  Releasing a deep breath my father sits in his chair beside the fire, the one that only he can sit on. “Maybe not today. Maybe not by his own hands, but being with a man like that will only lead to misery.”

  “I’m marrying him, Father.” I stand taller and he rises giving me a nod before leaving out the back door. I’m left stunned for a moment. My mother’s hand rests on my shoulder.

  “He will come around.”

  I give her a doubtful look. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well I’m here for you.” I knew she was but some part of me feared my father’s words. They sounded like a prophecy. He will be the death of our daughter.

  What did he see that I didn’t? Was it just a father’s fear of letting go?

  “Margret. You know your father. You are all we have. He’s afraid.” My mother answers my unspoken question and I feel a sense of ease immediately.

  “You’re right. I’m getting married.” I’m smiling again and so is she.

  “I knew you were special. So much more beautiful than all the other girls.” I blush. My mother wasn’t one for handing out compliments so I basked in her praise.

  I didn’t always think I was pretty. When the boys passed me up at every opportunity I had started to believe I was ugly. But now with Michael’s attention I felt like a princess. A beautiful one.

  Chapter Ten

  Michael O’Reagan

  “I’ve let this go on long enough but when we get married you better smile.” I push off the wall coming up behind Margret’s father. His dislike towards me I was willing to brush under the carpet. But his negative attitude towards Margret wasn’t something I was willing to push aside.

  “I won’t have my wife treated poorly.”

  Rubbing a long white shaggy beard he glances at me from the corner of his eye. “She’s not your wife yet young Michael. I knew your father, he was a decent man.”

  I snort. “All he had was a push-bike. He wasn’t much of a man.” We both stop walking now.

  “The content of a man’s pockets isn’t the value of his worth. Boy.” I grin at the word boy. He was taunting me. “Empty pockets won’t get you far in this life. Old man. You know that.” I walk away before I lash out and hurt him. I just hope some of my warning sinks in.

  ***

  Richard has the man stripped and tied to the tree that had only a few weeks ago held Craig, who survived his overnight stay here. He was lucky to survive. I wouldn’t give this man the luxury of breathing in the morning.

  He’s smart, he doesn’t start crying and pleading when he sees me. There is a look of defeat in the part of his eye I can see around the swelling.

  “Make it quick.” The garbled words fall from his lips along with a dribble of blood.

  My shirt still had his blood on it and I had every intention of soaking the rest of the white shirt with his blood.

  “No. This will be slow.” M
y fist impacts with the side of his face, the swollen skin breaks on impact and I pull back only to strike him again. Bones break, my skin splits and it’s satisfying. I hit him, I hit my father, I hit Margret’s father. I hit Mr. Malone, I hit everyone who hurt me, I hit every dark thing that turned me into this man. His face caves on the left and it doesn’t slow me down. Adrenaline keeps me punching. I’m aware of Richard moving closer, I’m aware of the bark of the tree cutting into my fists.

  “Mr O’Reagan, it’s best you don’t damage yourself too much.” I move from the mangled face and take my last few swipes at his mid-section before stopping. Richard hands me a knife and through the mangled flesh I run it across the man’s throat. I have no idea if he was dead or alive before slitting him open.

  ***

  “Father would be proud.” I meet Tom’s eye in the mirror. His words carry no merit. He is here on my command. He is here just to support me on my wedding day.

  “I don’t give one fuck about Father,” I tell him softly and he shrugs.

  “I know.” He helps me into my jacket. I allow it.

  “Does she know what you do?”

  “Does it matter?” I fire back at his stupid question.

  “I suppose not.”

  I stop fixing my tie. “You’re meant to help me get ready for my wedding. Not depress me.”

  He nods and turns to a large flat package that I noticed the moment we entered the room. It’s wrapped in brown paper.

  “This is for you.” I don’t like accepting anything from anyone. Everything has a price. He pushes it towards me and I take it.

  “What is it?” I ask and for the first time my brother smiles.

  “Just open it, Mike.” Something spikes inside me. I hate that nickname. It’s a happy time that I’d rather bury than relive on my wedding day. Tearing open the brown paper I let it fall to the ground.