Jig watched one of the older lads pull out a blazing ball of cloth from the bonfire with a golf club. He scooped it up with the head of the club and swung it around. The other lads roared encouragement and the girls shrieked as he pretended to lob it at them, then actually did, just missing their heads.
A banger exploded in the flames, nearly catapulting Jig off the edge of the sofa. Some of the lads had pulled down the back of their tracksuits and were pretending to roast their arses against the fires. The girls laughed and recorded it on their phones.
Jig wanted to stay for the craic, as it was only getting going now. But Ghost had told him to be home at 8 p.m. He knew he’d better not be late. He checked the time on his phone and started running.
When he neared his house, he didn’t recognise the car outside. But, he could sense Ghost was inside it.
Before he got to it, Ghost stepped out. Jig saw the side of his face, his sharp cheekbones glistening. His arms swung as he walked around the front of the car. He had a plastic bag in one hand and for a moment Jig thought he looked like he was trick-or-treating. He laughed to himself at the thought of him and Ghost trick-or-treating, scaring the shit out of everyone, filling their bags with sweets and marshmallows and stuffing themselves.
‘Go in and put these on, the runners and all,’ Ghost said, handing him the bag. ‘Take off yer underwear and just put on the tracksuit.’
Jig opened the bag, expecting to see top of the range gear. But it was some grey tracksuit and cheap runners.
‘They look poxy?’
‘It’s not for a fucking fashion show, just put them on,’ Ghost said, pushing him towards his house. ‘Who’s inside?’
‘Me sister.’
‘Where’s yer ma?’
Jig just shook his head. He saw Ghost nod. Jig wondered was even Ghost afraid of his ma? Jig rapped on the door and Donna opened it. Jig could see she tried to smother a smile on seeing Ghost behind him. He dipped under Donna’s arm and took the stairs in jumps.
Donna watched Ghost tap out a cigarette. He was about to put it away when he stopped and offered her one.
She remembered the gesture, although it was ages ago now. She took it and accepted his light.
‘Yer looking well,’ Ghost said.
She tapped her foot against the door, then smiled.
‘Off the gear and the tablets,’ she said, taking a long drag, ‘almost a month.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Fucking yeah. I’m a government junkie now,’ she laughed, ‘just the methadone, well, and the weed.’
The door into the front room opened and out popped one little head, then another. They stared at Ghost in the half-light.
‘Right, in, watch the telly,’ Donna said, pushing them back.
As she turned to her side, she could sense Ghost eyeing her body, lingering on her curves. She kept her pose for a second longer than she needed to. Just for old times’ sake.
‘What’s their names again?’ Ghost asked, as she faced him.
She paused.
‘Wayne, Crystal, isn’t it?’ he said, before she could respond.
She looked at him and thought he smiled as he dragged hard. The light from the street lamp spread over his face as he turned. His skin was pulled so thin she could almost see his bones, grey against the yellowy-white. It reminded her of old television pictures from a prisoner of war camp.
‘Where’s the dragon?’ he asked.
Donna was going to tell him to fuck off.
‘Out. Just as well for yer sake.’
Ghost snorted.
Donna tried to figure out whether Ghost’s presence at their doorstep was a sign he was innocent of Maggot’s disappearance or what. The garda kept saying it was his gang. But she didn’t trust those fuckers. They were playing their own mind games. They kept pulling her in for drug searches, even now, knowing she was off all of it. They did it to humiliate her and make her say something about Ghost and the gang. But she had nothing to say. She didn’t know anything. Maggot was a mad bastard and, truth be told, a bad bastard. Like their da. He was going to be killed or kill someone himself. It was just a matter of time. But she felt bad about little Jig being in Ghost’s grasp. She had left him, and the kids, but she had to. She’d risked all she had managed to do in getting clean by coming back to the hole. She only did so because she heard her ma was down the pub all the time and the kids were running wild and going hungry. The da had just fucking disappeared, same as always.
Donna furrowed her eyebrows at the clothes on Jig as he clattered down the stairs, followed by Bowie.
‘Where’s he going in that get-up?’ she said to Ghost. ‘It’s hanging off him.’
But Ghost didn’t respond and looked down towards the canal.
Jig told Bowie to go to the kitchen, but the dog stayed put, giving a loud bark at the door. Jig pushed him down and closed the kitchen door behind him. Bowie scratched and yelped.
Donna put her arm out to block Jig, but he shoved it away.
‘Where ya going?’ she shouted after him.
‘Leave yer phone behind,’ Ghost said.
Jig walked back in and dropped the phone down on top of some clothes.
‘Why’s he leaving his phone here?’ Donna asked. ‘Where youse going?’
Ghost flicked away the butt of the fag.
‘Listen, Don, don’t worry. I’ll have him back in an hour, two tops.’
He hadn’t called her Don since they were teens. It disarmed her. Ghost wasn’t going to do anything. She knew that. He wouldn’t be here showing his face if he was. But something was up.
Ghost and Jig moved for the car. Donna closed the door slightly, took her mobile out and turned it to vibrate mode.
‘Hey, Jig. Come back here and give me a hug,’ she said with strained cheeriness. ‘Come on.’
Jig lumbered back, pretending to be pissed off. Donna pulled him tight and slipped her phone into one of his front pockets. Noticing Jig’s reaction, she kissed him on the forehead and let him go. As she closed the door, Bowie stopped barking and started to whine.