Free The Runaway by Martina Cole Page B

and she needed to keep her wits about her.
     
    Cathy was sitting on the settee, listening to the radio, when she heard a low call through the letter box.
    ‘Is that you, Eamonn?’ As she walked into the hallway she heard his voice again.
    ‘Open the door, you silly cow! Don’t let anyone know I’m here, Cathy. Keep your voice down.’
    Unchaining the door, she let him in. One look at his white face told her he was in trouble. Big trouble.
    ‘What’s happened?’ Her voice too was low.
    Eamonn looked down at Cathy then, realising just how small she was. Without her usual heels on she stood barely five foot two. Her tiny elfin face was all eyes, big blue eyes, and rosebud mouth. Seeing the fear there, he smiled, knowing the reaction his words would get from her.
    ‘I done it, Cath. I finally done it. I’m there, girl, right up there!’ He pointed to the ceiling and laughed softly.
    She stared at him blankly. ‘What have you done, Eamonn?’
    Pushing his face down level with hers, he whispered hoarsely: ‘I fucking shot James Carter! Shot the bastard dead.’ He watched as her eyes widened into twin pools of blue.
    ‘You’re joking! Dear Christ, tell me you’re joking!’
    Walking into the front room, he flopped down on the settee, stretching out his legs, all bravado.
    ‘It’s no joke, Cathy love. He wanted it and he fucking got it, mate, right in the boatrace.’ Putting out his fingers like a gun, he pointed them at her and went: ‘Bang, bang. That easy, girl. Like combing me hair, it was that easy.’
    Cathy just looked at him, sure she must be dreaming. ‘You’re bloody mad. Are you having me on? Only if you are, I don’t think it’s very funny, Eamonn. It’s sick. Shooting someone . . . Whatever next!’ She attempted to laugh, all the time knowing he was telling her the truth, yet unable to believe he would really do it.
    Eamonn laughed then, really laughed. ‘I’m there now, Cath - can’t you see that? I’m blooded, girl. I’m on the borrow, I’m the main man. Me life’s settled.’ Sitting up quickly, he looked into her eyes and said: ‘I’m on me way, Cath.’
    Cathy shook her head so hard her hair whipped around her face. ‘You’re nowhere, you silly bastard, except on your way to getting a fucking rope around your neck. James Carter was fifteen years old! Fifteen, for crying out loud. We’re still kids, Eamonn - kids . No matter how much we think we know, we’re ignorant of real life. You’re telling me you stole his life away, and then laughing like it’s a joke or something?’ Her voice broke as she fought back the tears.
    ‘James Carter was even worse off than us - the eldest of nine kids, his mother depended on him for money. You think you know it all and you know fucking nothing! It’s always you , Eamonn, what you want. Only what you want. And this is the upshot. You’ve shot poor James Carter, and he’s dead, and now you want me to alibi you. That’s why you’re here, ain’t it?’
    Eamonn stared at the little girl before him. In all his wildest fantasies he’d never expected this. Oh, he’d expected she might be a bit upset, but surely she should understand why he’d done what he had?
    Desperation in his voice, he said harshly, ‘I don’t know nothing, eh? I know enough. I know that what I want won’t come from unloading ships in the docks. I want what the real world’s got. The real people. I want cars and clothes and a nice drum. I want to walk down the street and be recognised as a man to respect, not the son of a drunken Irish docker. I want to be able to hold me bleeding head up. I want people to look up to me, Cathy. I want what every other fucker’s given at birth - I want to be someone. Someone important.
    ‘Fuck James Carter! Another time and it could have been me on the receiving end of that bullet, not him. He wanted what I wanted, love, and like me he’d have done anything to get it.’
    Cathy stared down into the face she adored. Saw the