Holburn, p.1
Holburn, page 1
HOLBURN
Tim Jeffreys
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright © 2022 by Tim Jeffreys
All rights reserved.
Print Edition ISBN:
E-book edition ISBN:
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Manta Press, Ltd.
www.mantapress.com
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Cover Design by Martin Greaves
Cover Illustration by Paul Wilhelm Keller-Reutlingen
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First Edition
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events portrayed within are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, institutions or locales is entirely coincidental.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
With thanks to Isabel Hurtado, Martin Greaves, and Robert Pope, who worked hard on the sidelines to help me complete this book. Also, thanks to Tim McWhorter at Manta Press.
Prologue
It was getting on four o’clock in the afternoon when the train I rode arrived at Connolly Station. Outside I jumped in a taxi and showed the driver the address Elaine had texted to me. It was out in Ranelagh, and as I rarely ventured over to that side of the Grand Canal, I didn’t trust myself to find it alone. Besides, I’d been travelling for fourteen hours straight, so I was in no mood to delay myself further.
My mobile phone started buzzing after I climbed into the taxi. It had been ringing throughout the morning and afternoon, always the same number — one I didn’t recognize. I ignored it, just as I’d been doing all day.
The journey from Heathrow had been a blur. I’d had a taxi drive me to Victoria, then sleepwalked my way onto a train that took me all the way to Liverpool Lime Street Station. I’d forgotten how grim the north of England could be, and what I saw out of the train window did nothing to dispel the funk I’d been in for the past few days. That low mood was unlike me, and I was surprised by my inability to shake it off. I was Gael Drake, after all, everybody’s favourite drinking buddy. Gael Drake, always ready with a quip and a funny story, always available for whatever shenanigans might be afoot.
Since I’d been away from home for three months, I’d hoped the sights and sounds of Dublin would boost my spirits. But night began to fall as the taxi steered a path through the congested streets, so I wasn’t able to see much. It had all turned to silhouettes, a shadow-show playing out against a blanket of washed-out blue. I could have been anywhere, in any city.
A few days earlier I’d spoken to my manager who had promised me some session work with a brother/sister duo tipped to be the new Corrs, and as much as I loved working in a recording studio, even this news hadn’t given me a boost. That hole I was in, that I’d been in for days since realising the tour was coming to an end; I had some idea of its cause. It was mostly guilt. Elaine had called me half-way through the tour to tell me she was moving out of the flat we shared. At that point, I hadn’t called her for a couple of weeks. I’d been meaning to but hadn’t got around to it. The tour manager had quit after the first month, and I’d stepped in as temporary replacement.
Can you imagine how busy I’ve been? I told Elaine when I finally got around to calling her, or words to that affect. Elaine told me she’d had enough. I was unreliable, she said, a fucking arsehole to boot, and I spent my life running away from my responsibilities.
I had to admit, she was right.
The previous summer I’d bundled my little sister, Ava, off to a boarding school on Fannin Island because I hadn’t wanted to deal with her. Also, I couldn’t stop thinking about my parents’ fatal car accident two years earlier, wondering: had Dad driven off that cliff on purpose? Had he no longer been able to live with the madness that followed my mother around? I was wracked with shame that I hadn’t called home more, visited. Maybe Dad had needed someone to talk to. Someone who understood.
So there I was back in Dublin, but in no mood for a party. Throughout the entire journey home, I had tried to convince myself that Elaine had sent me her new address because she wanted me to visit her in order to patch things up; but I had no reason to be certain of that. My gut told me I’d lost her, that I’d pushed her patience too far this time. In truth, she’d been a saint to put up with me, and my family, for six whole years. None of my previous girlfriends had lasted longer than twelve months. One whiff of anything otherworldly and they’d be gone.
All Elaine had said in her message, apart from giving me her new address, was: Come and see me when you get home. Please. Nothing else. No emojis. Not even a kiss.
After what felt like an age spent idling at an endless series of traffic lights, time I spent fidgeting, watching the meter tick, and trying to ignore the anxiety building in me, we broke out of the city and entered a leafy residential area where I could see even less out of the car window. Eventually the taxi pulled up half way along a poorly-lit street of tall, three-story terraces. As I climbed out, I felt a cold churn of nerves low down in my gut, and wondered why I was getting myself into such a state.
I checked the address on my phone again, just to be certain I was in the right place. All I really wanted was to go back to the flat, shower, and sleep, but I thought it best to show Elaine she was my first priority on arriving back in Dublin. I glanced up at the house in front of me, squinting to make out the number on the door. This was it. I slung my bag over one shoulder, grabbed my guitar from the back seat of the taxi, and began climbing the steps. Halfway up, I was surprised by a security light. I couldn’t help imagining how I’d look to Elaine under that harsh glare. Three months touring around Europe with a Black Sabbath tribute band, and all the fun and frolics that entailed, had left me gaunt and grey. Adding in the early flight from Denmark to Heathrow plus the subsequent hours I’d spent travelling in order to get there, I didn’t need a mirror to tell me I looked like shit.
At the door there were a number of buzzers for the various flats inside the house. I rang the ground floor flat buzzer then waited. That anxiety began to coil up inside me again. I was acutely aware of the very real possibility that I was about to make a fantastic fool of myself. Or maybe I’d be lucky and find she wasn’t home. I went to your place straight from the station, I imagined myself telling her at some later hook-up. Went straight there, to that house you’re living in up on the hill. But you weren’t there.
I was about to ring the buzzer a second time when I heard footsteps approaching the door from the other side. To my shame, I glanced behind me, wondering if it was too late to make a run for it.
The door opened and there she stood. I was surprised at the effect seeing her again had on me. And at how different she looked. I couldn’t put my finger on why at first, but later I realised it was simply that she looked happy.
She stood and blinked at me.
“Gael?”
“Hey,” I said. “You sent up the bat signal, and here I am.” When she looked confused by this, I cursed myself: Idiot. Did I think I was bloody Batman now? Christ.
She reached forward, took hold of one of my hands and held it. “Gael. I’m so glad you’re back.” She stepped forward from the doorway and embraced me.
For a second or two I didn’t know where to put my hands. Then I laid them on her back and held her. It felt good. The ache inside me was soothed, momentarily.
Releasing me, she stepped back into the doorway.
“I didn’t think you’d be this pleased to see me,” I said.
“Of course, I am. Now I finally get a chance to explain things.”
“Uh…explain things?”
There was the sound of feet in the hallway behind her then a man appeared at her shoulder. He was tall and broad, with short fair hair, sharp inquisitive eyes, and hair on his chin: a goatee beard or at least some kind of attempt at one. You could see how solid he was under his clothes, how strong, how muscular. He wore little round spectacles in order, I could only assume, to let the world know there was an intellectual hiding behind the beefcake. He was Arnold Schwarzenegger and Albert Einstein rolled in to one, and I hated him instantly. This feeling only intensified when he slid one hand across Elaine’s back.
“Who is it, Els?” he said.
There was some kind of accent, possibly German, but all I could think was: Els? Fucking Els? Since when did anyone call you Els?
“It’s that friend of mine I told you about,” Elaine said, still smiling at me, her eyes holding mine. “Gael Drake.”
My heart plummeted down to my feet.
Friend? Was that all I was?
I saw a look of recognition on the man’s face then he came forward, dazzling me with a set of perfect teeth and offering out his hand. He was one of those morons who thought the firmer your handshake was, the more of a man you were.
“Easy there, mate,” I said as he set about trying to crush my left hand to pulp and splinters, “that’s my guitar strumming hand.”
He laughed as if I
“Likewise,” I said, hoping he picked up the note of sarcasm I put into it. “Miklos, that’s…”
“Hungarian.”
“Ah. I was going to say Greek. Like the sculptures.”
He laughed again and batted me on the shoulder. I don’t think I could have hated him more than I did at that moment. I shot a glance to Elaine, hoping to convey that I hadn’t travelled hundreds of miles to be roughed up by this meathead. Her face showed apology. She turned to Schwarzenegger.
“Perhaps Gael and I should have a moment alone,” she told him. “I haven’t fully explained why it was I asked him to come.”
There it was. She asked. She fucking asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Noticing the sharp edge to my voice, Elaine’s eyes widened. I knew I was being unfair. After all, it was me who had gone off on tour and not called her for weeks. I shot a look at Miklos. Don’t be a bastard, Gael, I told myself. Don’t. But there was a tsunami of disappointment washing over me, and I couldn’t hold back. “I just spent fifteen hours on the road,” I said, facing Elaine again, “so some kind of explanation about what the hell I’m doing here would be nice, yes, thank you very much.”
She looked stung. “I didn’t ask for you to come straight here. Look, why don’t you come in.”
“No,” I said, turning away from her. The thought of having to go inside that space she shared with another man sickened me. “Not now. Right now, I need sleep. I need to get my head down. It’s been a hell of a long journey.”
A pause. “Gael…why are you being like this?”
“Like what?”
“You’re being hostile. And childish.”
“Hostile?” I laughed under my breath. But when her expression showed bafflement, I had to turn away. “I’m tired, that’s all. Look, this was a bad idea. You’re right; I shouldn’t have come straight here. I’m going to head home. We can talk in the morning. Or whenever. If that’s what you want. Okay?”
Elaine’s expression turned stony. “Fine,” she said. “Have it your way.”
I retreated back down the steps and ducked into the near-dark at the end of the path, where I breathed easier. The taxi was long gone, so I started walking. It took me an hour to find my way out of Ranelagh and back to the city centre. To top things off, the heavens opened. A long walk in the rain was the perfect ending to that long, exhausting journey home. When I was halfway there my mobile phone started ringing again.
I didn’t answer it.
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Back at the flat, I dried off and consoled myself with a bottle of whiskey I’d stashed in my overnight bag, then passed out on the living room sofa. I woke to needles of sunlight and a relentless pounding which I initially thought was inside my own head. It took me a few minutes to realise someone was knocking on the front door.
“Just a minute,” I yelled. I wasn’t about to face anyone in my current state, so got up and groped my way to the bathroom. The pounding on the door started again whilst I was in there so I only had time to take a piss and throw water on my face before stumbling to the door and opening it.
Elaine stood on the other side. This was an Elaine I was more familiar with than the sunnier one I’d encountered the previous evening. Her face was full of confrontation, and by the look of her she’d dressed for battle in a smart pant suit under which she wore a white shirt buttoned all the way up to her throat. Her hair was tied up in a long plat which she could have used to whip me about the face had she so desired.
“Why so early?” I said, for want of anything better.
“It’s gone noon.”
“That’s early for us rock ‘n’ rollers.”
She shot me a look full of pity and contempt. “Can I come in?”
“It’s still your place too, isn’t it?”
I stood back to allow her entrance into the flat. Before she faced me she cast her eyes around the place, and I saw her taking in the untouched pile of post behind the front door and the empty bottle on the living room floor.
“I know it must have been a shock for you, Gael,” she said. “Last night, I mean.”
“Goliath, you mean? Don’t waste time, do you? Where did he spring from anyway?”
“His name’s Miklos.”
“Looks more like a Goliath to me.”
She drew a deep breath. “He’s an old boyfriend. I knew him years ago, long before I met you. We kept in touch. When I told him I was leaving you, he invited me to stay with him for a while.”
“To see if you could rekindle things?”
“I suppose he’s always carried a torch. He’s asked me to marry him.”
This news literally had me staggering backwards. “Fuck me. And you didn’t think to mention that?”
“What?”
“That you’re getting married.”
“I never said I was—”
“Funny, he doesn’t look your type.”
“What does that mean? He’s a very sweet man.”
“Sweet?”
“He is.” Halting, she grabbed the sleeve of my shirt and forced me to face her. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous? Is that it? You act like you don’t care about me for months, then you get all jealous when you see me with someone else.”
“I do care. I’ve always cared.”
“Really?” She shifted her eyes to the window. “You’ve been so distant. Even before you went off on tour. All that trouble we had with Ava, after you brought her back from America...”
“Leave Ava out of it.”
“How can I? Your brother’s been calling by the way.” She pointed at the landline phone, which sat in a corner of the room. It had a flashing red light to show there were new voicemail messages. “He must have called a hundred times. He wants to know where Ava is.”
“Of course, he does. You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”
“I told him it’s nothing to do with me anymore.” She took a deep breath. “Gael, listen. I didn’t know if you...if you still loved me. I just didn’t know.”
“Didn’t you? Really? Isn’t that how you knew you could summon me?”
Anger tightened her features. “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t summon you.”
“Rattle off a text to old Gael and he’ll come a-running.”
“Is that what you think of me? I wanted your help. Who else could I turn to?”
“Help with what? Picking out a wedding dress?”
Anger flashed across her face. She drew a deep breath, then looking into my eyes said: “Gael, there’s…there’s something haunting me.”
“Haunting you?” I laughed. “It’s usually places that are haunted, Elaine, not people.”
“I think it was Ava. I think she found something here. Remember how we used to hear her talking to herself? Well, I don’t think she was. I think she found something here. She was lonely. She didn’t know how to make friends with people.”
I stared at her, confused by this change of topic. “What are you talking about? Ava was only here for a couple of weeks.”
“I’ve been seeing things. Hearing things. First here, then at Miklos’ place. I think Ava found something here. Then when you scooted her off to that school it must’ve attached itself to me.”
I waved a dismissive hand. “You’re imagining things.”
“It’s not my imagination,” she shot back at me. “Do you think I’d come to you for help after everything if I thought I was just imagining things?”
That hurt. “And what about Goliath? Can’t he sort it out?”
“Stop calling him that. His name’s Miklos. You need to bring Ava back, Gael, and you need to make her get rid of this thing that’s following me around.”
