‘Put it down,’ said Tom, ‘it makes me nervous.’
Foley looked at the gun in his hand as if seeing it for the first time, surprised it was there. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, tucking it inside his overcoat, ‘wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands, now, would we?’
That done, Foley looked at Tom. Taking the time to really scrutinise him.
‘You look different. Well, I suppose you would after all these years. And I don’t just mean the hair and beard and everything. There’s something different about you. You don’t look like you used to.’
Tom said nothing. Foley kept staring. Eventually he smiled.
‘But there’s still a bit of you in there. The old you. The old Mick. You can’t get rid of it that easily.
‘You look just the same,’ Tom said. ‘Only more so.’
Foley laughed. ‘Prison tends to do that to a person, doesn’t it?’
The laughter stopped. Like two gunfighters, neither wanted to be the first to look away in case the other made their move.
‘So you still blame me for everything that happened to you?’ asked Tom.
‘Course I did. All I thought about. For years. You. What you’d done. How you’d betrayed me.’ No drama in his voice when he spoke that word. Just a prosaic matter-of-factness. ‘Used to lie awake at nights, planning my revenge. Picturing it in detail, real exquisite detail. Every scream, every gasp . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Didn’t sleep for ages thinking all that. And I had people looking for you. All over the country. Even abroad. Thought you might have skipped to somewhere sunny. Spain or Florida, something like that.’
Tom almost smiled. ‘Spain or Florida? Credit me with some taste.’
Foley almost returned the smile.
‘Like I said, you obsessed me. I tried everywhere. Every angle. Looking for you. Searching, hunting . . . no sign of you. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that you’d probably died. And that made me even more angry. Because that meant someone else had done you in. Or cancer, something like that. And I tried to think you deserved it but it still hurt like hell that it wasn’t me who’d done it. Like I’d been robbed of that satisfaction.’
Tom said nothing.
‘Because, like I said, I’d planned it all. What I was going to do to you . . . Christ you were going to suffer . . .’
‘And now that I’m here, in front of you? Are you still going to make me suffer?’
Tom tensed as he spoke. He was bigger in frame than Foley, but never bigger in rage. Foley was an expert at transforming that anger into physical action. Tom knew he would never best him in a fight if it was one on one.
Foley sighed. Looked up at the rain. Back at Tom. ‘What’s the point? Eh? What would it achieve?’ He shook his head. ‘You were wrong. What you said just now. That I’m not different. That I haven’t changed. The Dean Foley you knew, all those years ago . . . that’s not who I am anymore.’
Tom didn’t know how to reply, what kind of response to give. Didn’t even know whether Foley was telling the truth. Instead he gathered his thoughts. His turn to share.
‘I’ve thought about you over the years too. A lot. Obviously. I’ve been living my life in hiding ever since that night. I’ve been living in fear that you’d find me. And I knew what you’d do if you did.’
‘And here I am.’
‘Here you are.’
‘That why you came down here?’ asked Foley.
‘Yeah. Wanted to get as far away as possible. So I came to Cornwall. Lived on my own in the middle of nowhere.’
‘As far away as possible. You got that right. Still in the nineteen fifties, round here.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ said Tom, almost smiling. Despite the reality of the situation, a part of him acknowledged that it was like two old friends catching up.
‘But you were right,’ said Tom. ‘Well, half right.’
‘About what?’
‘My guilt. That’s what sent me down here. Away from everyone.’
‘About your niece?’
‘Yeah. And also about my involvement with you.’
Foley smiled, triumphant. ‘Told you. What did I say? All those sessions with Dr Louisa paid off.’ Then a shadow passed over him as he remembered.
Tom kept talking.
‘I said half right. Not like you meant. You showed me a side of myself that I hated. Well, you didn’t just show me, you allowed me to let it out. You indulged me, encouraged me. And it was a side of me that was cruel, heartless, arrogant. Took pleasure in hurting people in as many ways as I could. Enjoyed the power and fear that it brought. I could do anything when I was with you. Anything. You know you said once you could shoot someone in a pub on Deansgate and get away with it? Remember?’
‘Course I remember.’
‘Well so could I. I knew I could. That’s how powerful I felt. And I wanted to do it, just to see what it felt like. You were the one who brought that out.’
Foley shrugged. ‘Can’t blame me for something that was already there in you. If you didn’t like it you wouldn’t have done it.’
‘But I did like it. That was the thing. And it was only when I was with you that I behaved like that. I would never have done it otherwise.’
‘So what? You want me to apologise for existing just so you can feel better about yourself?’
‘No,’ said Tom, shaking his head. ‘You don’t understand. I’m not explaining myself clearly. That whole side of me, all of that . . . I loved it. Really loved it. And it scared me how much I loved it. How much I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to keep going for ever. Or part of me did.’ He paused. Took a deep breath. Another. ‘So when it was time to do my job, to break up the gang, I was relieved that someone made that decision for me. Because it wasn’t just about stopping you. It was about stopping me as well. And I don’t think I could have stopped otherwise.’
Foley nodded slowly, looked down at Baz’s body.
‘He didn’t stop. He kept going.’
‘And look where it got him.’ Tom looked back at Foley. ‘You see what I mean, what I’ve been getting at? I’ve lived the rest of my life trying to be a different person. The person I am now, this Tom Killgannon, it’s more than just a name. It’s another chance. I’ve lived in fear, not just of you finding me, but that I’d go back to being who I was. I’ve worked to get rid of that part completely.’
‘You managed?’
‘I thought I wasn’t doing so badly. Till I went into prison. Then it all came back.’
‘Like I said,’ said Foley. ‘Prison changes a man. Or focuses them. Makes them more of what they are.’
‘Don’t say that.’
He held his hands up, shrugged. ‘It’s true, but . . . whatever.’
Silence fell between them. Foley eventually broke it.
‘We were who we were.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means it was the only life we had, the only life we knew. The only thing we could do to get out of that shithole we came from.’
‘There were other ways,’ said Tom.
‘The army? Doesn’t suit everyone. University? Seriously, no matter how clever we were there was no chance of going there. Not when we’d been to the schools we’d been to. So what else could we do?’
Tom didn’t answer.
‘I wanted to make something of my life,’ said Foley. ‘And so did you. So I did it the only way I knew how. Whatever opportunities were there, I took them. Just like you did. So don’t give me all that guilt and angst and shit. We did what we had to do.’
‘But did we have to enjoy it so much?’
Foley stopped himself before he could reply. Thought. Gave a small smile. ‘What kind of man would you be if you didn’t take joy from your work? Take pride in it?’
Tom just stared at him. Felt suddenly tired. Like everything had caught up with him. Not just the last few weeks and months, but everything. His whole life.
‘You still feel the same?’
‘About what? Pride in my work?’
‘About what you had to do to get where you were.’
Foley thought about it. ‘I’ve got a degree, you know. Did it inside. I knew I wasn’t thick. Knew it all along.’
‘No one ever said you were.’
‘It’s a working class thing, though, isn’t it? No matter how much money you make, how successful you get, you can never shake it. So I did a degree. Prove them wrong.’
‘What’s it in?’
‘English Lit. Hardest thing I ever did.’
Tom smiled despite himself.
‘You see,’ said Foley, ‘this is something else I’ve spent a long time thinking about. All the money, everything like that, it made things easier. Money always does. But I thought doing what I did would make me somebody else. Someone better. Get me respect.’
‘D’you think it did?’
‘Got me feared.’ Foley shrugged. ‘Suppose that’s the next best thing.’
‘What about now?’
Foley looked directly at him once more. And Tom saw just how much his terrifying old friend had changed.
‘I’m just tired,’ he said. ‘Really, really tired.’
‘What are you going to do about it, then?’
Another shrug. ‘Change. Because I’m sick of all that.’
‘So what happens next, then?’
Foley smiled. Tom didn’t know if it was a good smile or not.