McAlister’s eyes remained on the pacing DI. ‘So what now? We can’t charge him unless he coughs.’
‘No, we don’t have nearly enough to charge him. We need to keep the pressure on though. He knows we’re close to finding answers, I could sense it on him. Jesus Christ, I can feel it myself.’
‘Do we get him a solicitor, sir?’
‘No, we let him go.’
‘But we’ve got thirty-two hours. Sylvia got the extension.’
‘Let him go now. I’m more interested to see what he does under the influence of panic.’
McAlister’s face tightened, the features sharpening as he turned back to the interview room. ‘Are you sure about this, boss?’
‘Yes, Ally. Let Keirns walk. But not before you have two officers at his backside 24-7.’
30
February 1984
It’s getting harder to remember what Mammy’s face looked like. Sometimes, when I close my eyes and really concentrate, I think I can see her smiling, but I’m not sure. I used to say, to myself only, that she was always smiling, that was how I remembered her, but I don’t know so much now. It seems a long time ago, like in the fairy stories they tell you. Maybe that’s it, maybe I read about her somewhere or someone told me and that’s what happened. She was a princess who died, and I was just wishing she’d come back to life. She never did though. I’ll never believe those stories again – all those happy endings are just stuff and nonsense.
The car bumps over the road and the new boys laugh and joke about it. They have pop, that’s what the man with pig eyes calls it. He’s English – I know the accent because the boys say he’s posh.
‘Come on, Donal, drink some pop!’ says one of the boys. I take a sip and he says get it down you, and the man with the pig eyes agrees, so I slug a good whack of it.
‘Aren’t you mad excited?’ says the boy.
‘I suppose,’ I say, and that just makes him grin wider.
There’s four of us – five if you include Terry, who sits in the front beside the man with the pig eyes. Terry’s his favourite, we can all tell. You can always tell when the men have a favourite because there’s chocolate galore and lucky bags with the cola bottles inside that every boy likes. Sometimes – well, once – there were football stickers, but they made us hand them all back and even went through my pockets for them. I don’t know why they’d have to do that. There’s lots of things like that, though they say it’s all part of the excitement.
‘I love a party,’ says Terry.
The man driving the car turns to him and smiles and says will we have a sing-song. I don’t know the words – something about a young boy of sixteen summers. I don’t like the singing much.
When we get there it’s dark. The night sky is not quite black yet, and there’s some blue still at the edges where there’s also a white glow. The man with the pig eyes says we’ll go in the back way and isn’t that exciting too, but I don’t answer him.
I remember the last place like this. It was a big hotel in the middle of nowhere. There were lots of boys I didn’t know, all running around bare chested and with the bright red cheeks on them. All the grown-ups were men too, and they would let you try a fag on your own or give you beer if you asked. I didn’t like them; they smiled too much.
Inside Terry gets a piggyback from the man who drove us, and there’s lots of noise and boys running around all over the place. One boy is sick on the carpet and gets taken away, and I wonder if he’s going to be put to bed early. There’ll be lots of beds in lots of rooms – I know this from before.
‘Would you like some more pop, young man?’ says the man with the pig eyes. He’s put down Terry now and has a tray with bottles of Coke on it. I take one and a straw, because I’m very thirsty. I don’t remember ever being this thirsty before and then my cheeks feel very warm as well.
I wonder will I be sick like the other boy, and then the man with the pig eyes is pointing at me and I hear him saying my name. He brings over a man and says his name. I think it’s Bunny. It doesn’t sound like a man’s name.
‘Hello,’ he says.
I don’t answer.
‘One of the quiet ones, are you?’
I shrug.
‘That looks nice.’ He nods at my drink. ‘Is it nice?’
‘Yes.’
‘I bet I know what you like. Meringues, great big ones with cream and a cherry on top!’
I don’t feel like eating. I drink some more Coke and everything starts to go funny, like I’m looking through a river to the stones below.
‘No. Well maybe later you’ll feel like it.’ He bends down and his eyes are level with mine, but I can’t look there. I look at the shoulder of his jacket, at the little white balls that are falling from his head. He smells of a scent I don’t think I’ve ever smelt before but I know I’ll always remember wherever I go.