THE CUP BEARER
By DJ
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tuesday 19th March 1995
While the kid was inside the Northern Rosscroft clinic, giving Adams a hard time, Don sat in the car and made use of the time to write his weekly report to Edward Grafton. While he didn’t want to make it sound all doom and gloom, he didn’t want to make Grafton think everything was sweet and rosy either. He wrote for a few minutes then checked it through.
“Dear Mr. Grafton
Whatever was troubling Emilio these last few weeks is still bothering him but he’s not letting it interfere with his life. From my chats with him, it seems he’s coping with his schoolwork. He’s also skating hard, throwing people around the Judo mat like nobody’s business and showing that band he’s joined what’s what. I hope Brian MacCaffrey is shrewd enough to know he’s got a winner on his team. I’d like to take Emilio to my mate’s club in Stretford and introduce him to Bernie who is always on the look out for new talent. It’s not a night club, it’s a music club with a bar. The kid would like it there. They have regular Country nights, Rock nights, and Jazz nights, mostly amateur and semi-pro entertainers with the occasional established acts. They even have a Latino night once a month when all the Lambada fans come out to play.
In short, Emilio is packing his days like a suitcase about to burst its straps. But he still finds time to keep his appointments with Bryn Adams, which I think are a waste of time. Emilio thinks the same but is too polite to tell the twit where to go. Bryn says that trying to get the boy to talk is like trying to open a can of beans with a plastic spoon. Personally, I think Adams is the wrong choice for Emilio. If I were you I’d advise Mr. Sherbourne to find another psychiatrist, A.S.A.P. As for Guido, he’s still around and hanging onto the boy like a leach these days; I’ve had the job of bodyguard literally taken out of my hands, except when the car is needed. I’m afraid that is one fellow I do not like, at all.
“Emilio doesn’t like him either but as Guido seems to be behaving himself, there isn’t much I can do about the situation. Please be assured that when Guido takes Emilio anywhere, the group keeps them under close watch. The group is trying out some new panic buttons that have just come on the market. So far they are working fine although we do get the odd one that doesn’t work so well. I have given one to Emilio to wear under his jacket lapel. He knows the signals, one buzz for alert, two for us to follow whoever he’s been with and three for us to get in there fast. I’ve been telling him a bit about how the group works, and about the crisis phone-line. He seems interested in joining us as fish bait. I don’t want him involved but whether we use him is your decision. Meanwhile, we have a lead on the Wirral problem and I will be away in Birkenhead for a few days from Friday. I’ve delegated my garage mechanic Gary Norton, a new member of our group, to chauffeur Emilio around till I get back; he’ll be safe enough with him.
Yours sincerely
Don
* * *
Thursday 21st March, 1995
“Trentham eight six one eight two?”
“Emilio? This is Gary Norton, Don’s mate.”
“Hi, Gary, what can I do for you?”
“Nothing, it’s just that, well...there’s been an accident. Don’s in Withington Hospital.” Emilio was stunned. Don was like a solid rock, dependable, an unstoppable tank. Men like him didn’t have accidents. “Emilio, are you still with me?”
“Sorry, yeah, what happened?”
“We’re not sure. You know he lives in that converted loft above his garage? I found him at the bottom of the concrete staircase leading up to it, when I went to work this morning. He’s got severe concussion. The police say he must have fallen from top to bottom to get that kind of injury, apart from that they’re not giving much out. The reason I’m calling is it might not have been an accident. The group are looking for another minder for you as I’m going to have to run the garage till Don’s okay. Meanwhile, we want you to be extra careful. I might not be able to get you to Altrincham tonight; we’ve got a red alert in the Crewe area. Just take care, okay?” Emilio told him not to worry, and put the phone down. Poor Don! I’ll send him a card first thing in the morning on the way to school. He looked at his watch. It was almost seven thirty, which meant he had fifteen minutes to catch a bus to Altrincham. He was almost ready to step out of the front door when the phone rang again. This time it was Guido.
“I want you to meet someone. Come to the flat.”
Something in Guido’s voice warned Emilio that something was not quite right. “I’m on my way to Altrincham.”
“This is very important.”
“So is my skating practice.”
“Here, talk to the man himself.”
Emilio heard the rustling of someone taking over the phone and a different breathing pattern. “Emilio? Unless you do as you are told, something nasty will happen to your family. Is that clear?”
“Go to Hell!”
“I’m not playing games, Emilio.”
“Neither am I.”
“Be at the flat in five minutes.” The phone went dead.
When Emilio walked into the flat, Guido was sitting on a dining chair in the middle of his decorating clutter, with a look of utter dejection on his face. Sitting on another chair by the main bedroom door was a man dressed in an expensive grey suit and toning overcoat. He smiled coldly and pierced Emilio with almost colourless eyes. “Hello Emilio. Come here and let me have a look at you.”
Ignoring the man’s command, Emilio turned to Guido. “What’s going on? Who is this guy?”
“Who I am is of no importance,” the man said patiently. “The people I represent pay me in a month what your Grafton brothers earn in net profits in a year. Your stepfather owes them a lot of money, and they want it back.”
Emilio eyed the man coldly. “What money?” He glanced towards Guido and was about to ask what it had to do with him and saw Guido shrug his shoulders. A chill ran down Emilio’s spine as he backed to the door.
* * *
When Emilio walked back into the house much later, Perquita was on her way downstairs after making sure the boys were in bed and not messing about. He looked up at her and she stared in horror at his swollen cheek. “Emmie, what’s happened?”
At that moment, Guido came into the house and closed the front door behind him. Emilio glanced round at him and saw the warning look in Guido’s eyes. He turned back to Perquita. “I walked into a door.”
Guido smiled cheerfully. “My fault, I left some decorating stuff lying about and he tripped over it.” He pushed past Emilio and walked on into the kitchen, leaving Emilio and Perquita staring at each other. Slowly, the look in Perquita’s eye changed from frosty to horrified understanding. Yeah, now you’re getting the picture, sister dear. He wanted to lay into her for being so ignorant, but how could he tell her that Guido had hit him when he discovered the panic button while Emilio had been “otherwise occupied” in the main bedroom of Guido’s flat?
As Emilio put his jacket back on, Guido had said softly, “I think this is yours.” and held up the button. Without thinking, Emilio had checked his lapel, and Guido had back- handed him across the face. Stunned he had fallen against the bedroom door, his face throbbing. When his head had cleared, he had rolled over onto his back to find Guido standing over him. “Tell your friends I’m not as stupid as they think,” the sailor had tossed the button at him. “You step out of line or talk out of turn and I will make you disappear. It won’t be the first time you’ve ended up in someone’s harem, will it?” Out on the pavement Emilio had thrown the useless button as far as he could across the street. Now Perquita turned and hurried back upstairs to her room, leaving Emilio feeling alone and rejected.
* * *
Friday 22nd March 1995
“Dear Diary,” Sandy wrote before he went to bed, “Gomez was in a right state at school today. My guess he’s up tight about Guido, and boy didn’t he let us know it! Even I got a taste of his wrath. I’ve never seen him so nasty with people. I hope he’s better company next week. If he doesn’t snap out of it soon I’m going to MacCaffrey.
Signed S R
* * *
How could Mum be so blind? Right in front of her, Emilio dealt with Guido in his own way, throwing him looks of hate, walking out of a room as soon as Guido walked in, and carrying his meals into the back living room rather than sit at the kitchen same table with him. It wasn’t often he had time to join the family in front of the TV but when he did, he pointedly sat on the floor at Mum’s feet rather than on the settee with Guido and the boys. Otherwise, he shut himself in his room and watched his own TV in moody isolation. Some day, I’ll tell Mum why, but not while she’s so ill. Thank God she’s on the waiting list for an appointment with a heart specialist. When that was over he would tell her everything. One thing in his favour, however, was the change in Perquita’s behaviour towards him. She no longer treated him with contempt, and observed him with puzzled frowns although she still hardly spoke to him. She also seemed a little cooler towards the father. Now, Emilio had only one and a half weeks left before the Easter Holidays when he would have no excuse to be out of the house. He didn’t know how he was going to get through it.
That night there was an Ice Gala in Altrincham. When Emilio pulled out tickets for the family, Jose demanded one for Guido. He grudgingly pulled out the ticket intended for Sandy and threw it on the kitchen table. His mother frowned her disapproval at him. Ah! At last, a reaction from Mum at last! Okay, fine. Take Guido’s side. One day you’ll find out how great Guido Gomez is.
During the show, every time Emilio ended one of his spots, Guido clapped and cheered the loudest and longest, causing looks of both amusement and annoyance from the spectators nearest to them. Emilio cursed him every time. On reaching home, Jose turned on Emilio. “Why don’t you and Papa shake hands and make friends? You’re always nasty to him.”
Emilio froze. Guido’s eyes fastened on him, and they stared at each other before Guido laughed. “What gives you the idea we aren’t friends, Jose? We just need time to get re-acquainted with each other. Isn’t that so, Emilio?”
Emilio shivered because he read something in Guido’s mind that blotted out any thoughts of friendship, a warning of bad weather looming across the distant sky on a sunny day. He didn’t answer, but turned to go quickly up the stairs to the bathroom. There, he slammed the door and leaned upon it, and his legs began to shake.
To be continued