A Time to Dream - Kevin Penny (best thriller novels of all time .txt) 📗

Kevin Penny About 6,250 Words


A Time to Dream

The door was closed. Shaun gave it a quick twist. It was locked.
‘Strange, I’m supposed to meet him inside.’
Within a second of his hand leaving the doorknob, he realised someone was behind him.
Grasping a handful of Shaun’s hair, the attacker jerked the teenager’s head backward.
‘Shit.’
It almost yanked the tuft out of his head. Shaun O’Connor was stunned and terrified. Fighting the need to vomit, his heart started pounding. His eyes watered.
If only he had heard the bastard coming up from behind. Suddenly; the cold hard steel of a knife blade, pressing against his throat, sent shivers up his spine.
‘Tell me where the loot’s hidden you piece of shit or I’ll slit your bloody throat.’
Although his assailant remained unseen, there was no mistaking the deep voice. Convinced he was about to die, Shaun’s knees started to buckle. Now the blade was cutting into his flesh. Fear caused urine to run down his leg. His pants became wet. He had lost control of his bladder.

Waking with a start, Shaun quickly sat upright in bed. Startled, frightened and disorientated, the nightmare was surreal in his mind. With his brow covered in perspiration and his teeth clenched, he sat in a half-trance. Although wide awake, his heart was still pounding and he found breathing difficult. His ears were still being assaulted by the words of his assailant.
Several times within recent nights, Shaun had experienced the same nightmare. O’Flaherty, the nasty, despicable school bully, always O’Flaherty and always outside the school toilet block. Because his dream had become more regular, more real, Shaun decided not to lie down, nor close his eyes in case he fell asleep and started dreaming again.
Comforting him were the signs of daylight seeping through the window. He heard the familiar crowing of a rooster. From outside, the cobblestone street rang with the sound of the old Clydesdale’s clip-clop, pulling the milk-cart. Soon, Shaun saw the golden rays of the sun spreading their glow across the rooftops of Dublin. Summer had passed and he knew the residents were preparing for the chill of winter, and the festivities of Christmas.
Blackall Green, the suburb where he lived, could only be described one way by Shaun, an impoverished neighbourhood. He was terrified of spending his life there, in eternal poverty. Every house in the street was old, drab, dilapidated and all alike as far as Shaun was concerned. All were in various stages of decline; all needing recurring maintenance.
Quickly jumping out of bed, Shaun changed from pyjamas to warm clothing. ‘God Almighty, I have to make sure it’s all there!’ He lifted the false panel from the bottom of his old bedroom cupboard. Carefully, he extracted an envelope from its hiding place, a gap between the floor boards of the house and the cupboard floor. He counted his money. Nervously, he laughed because of his stupidity, ‘Nothing more than a bad dream,’ and placed his savings back in the envelope.
Shaun remembered his first wage, a few farthings, and his mothers words, ‘Hide your money, Shaun, I don’t trust banks or bank managers.’ Shaun had saved and hidden his money ever since.
If only he and mother could migrate to Africa where the wild animals roamed free; that was his all encompassing dream. Preferably, he thought, before O’Flaherty killed him. Almost dominating his every thought, moving from Dublin motivated him to save every farthing he earned. Back inside his hiding place, he removed a well-worn sheet of newspaper with an extensive article about East Africa, and started to read. Activity, coming from the kitchen, jerked his mind back from his reverie.
After replacing the newspaper, the envelope and the false panel, Shaun hurried down the hallway to the kitchen, hugged his mother and kissed her on the cheek. He dragged a chair out from under the old wooden kitchen table, and sat. The badly worn linoleum covering the floor repulsed him. Grubby old floral wallpaper peeling at the joins, adorned every wall throughout the house, and Shaun hated it. The cracked paint on the ceiling annoyed the hell out of him, too.
He wished they could be somewhere else; anywhere but here. With a sigh, Shaun placed both elbows on the table, rested his chin on his upturned hands and watched his mother preparing their breakfast. The fresh aroma of bacon invaded his nostrils, awakening the hunger in him, and killing the mouldy musty permanent smell of the old house, if only for a short time. His speech was deliberate and slow.
‘Why do we havta live in this dump of a place, mum?’
‘You know why, Shaun, It’s all we can afford.’
‘But I loathe this place, mum. The floorboards are so old and loose they creak every time I take a step.’
‘We both hate this house, Shaun, but we have no choice.’
‘When I start work, thingsil be better.’
‘You have to finish school first, young man!’
Shaun was worried for his mother, about to marry Arnold, a local drunk.
‘Why do you havta get married, mum?’
‘You need a father, Shaun.’
The teenager shifted uneasily on the chair. He could see Maeve watching him.
‘But-but I dislike Arnold, mum, he stinks of beer and cigarettes.’
‘Holy mother of God, you must not speak that way, Shaun. Do you realise Arnold admires you, the way you save your money? Besides, he has promised to stop drinking when we are married. With both of us working, perhaps we can rent a nicer house.’
When Maeve smiled, Shaun realised she hoped the news would cheer him, but his expression remained the same.
‘I’m glad it’s Saturday.’
‘Why?’
‘Be-because Danny O’Flaherty bullies me every day at school.’
‘How does he bully you?’
‘You’re-you’re a bastard, O’Connor,’ that’s what he says. He calls me Stutters - I hate that name, mum. Sometimes he comes up behind me and slaps me across the back of the head. ‘Get outa my way, you little bastard,’ he says.’
Overcome by anger, Shaun continued with his outburst. Speaking quickly, the words spewed out of his mouth.
‘He-he’s a shit, mum, and he’s older and bigger than I am. I-I hate school and I-I hate O’Flaherty.’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, slow down young man and don’t get so excited. Think about what you want to say and speak slowly.’
‘But-but I do hate them, mum.’
‘That’s a lot of hate, young man.’
‘Can we move to Africa? I’m sure we would like living in that country.’
‘Heavens, Shaun, will you never stop asking that question. Where do you think we would get the money?’
The teenager shrugged. ‘We will - when I get a job.’
‘Arnold and I are taking you to the zoo today. You like the zoo, don’t you?’¬¬¬¬
Shaun’s eyes lit up. He loved watching the animals, especially the big cats.
‘Cause I do, mum.’
‘Then promise me you will not wag school next week, Shaun. I want you to promise.’
The smile disappeared. His face screwed up. Thinking about a whole week at school suffering O’Flaherty made him feel like he was suffocating under a tsunami of seaweed. Eventually, and reluctantly, he agreed.
‘Aw right, I spose. But why’s Arthur going with us today?’
‘You will have to get used to Arthur being with us, honey. After we are married next Saturday, everything will work out, you’ll see.’
Shaun felt sorry for his mother. If working four days a week and cleaning the house on her free day wasn’t enough, she had to take in washing at the weekend to help pay the bills.

Shaun arose early the next Monday morning. Soon, he was dressed, lightly breakfasted and ready to set off with his mother on their long walk, Maeve to her seamstress job and Shaun selling newspapers before school. They walked several blocks before turning left onto Victoria Quay at the River Liffey. From there it was still two kilometres to the inner city shopping and business centre.
Walking along the road beside the Liffey, Shaun watched tramcars pass by, rattling, clanging and swaying along on the uneven tramlines. They always brought a lump to his throat. If only he could ride in one and feel the wind blowing in his face. Shaun knew his mother would never consider wasting money on tramcar rides. ‘Why do you think God gave us legs and feet?’ She would say.
Soon after leaving his mother, he arrived at the corner of Moss and Townsend, ready to hawk the morning paper. Loving the sights and sounds, he knew they were both food for his soul.
Without wasting time, he picked up a bundle of papers, tucked them under his arm and started chasing customers with his raucous call of ‘Get the morning news here.’ He was undeterred by the activity of the busy morning traffic. A southerly wind sprang up and he was blessed with the aroma of fresh baked bread from the bakery shop, a few doors away from the newsstand.
Directly across the dusty cobblestone road, he hurried to catch some early morning shoppers entering O’Dougherty’s. Zigzagging and weaving through the traffic, he ignored the sound of honking horns, and the curses from drivers of the brightly coloured automobiles. He laughed as he dodged between them, rushing back and forth across the busy street. Their smelly acrid fumes, spewing into the air, brought tears to his eyes.
Several horse-drawn carriages passed by. Shaun kept watch for a large wagon full of barrels, drawn by four well groomed and plumaged Clydesdales. Before long, he watched as they trundled down the street on their way to deliver beer and Guinness to the city pubs. He waved to the driver.
Finally, all the papers were sold. Shaun was ready to start his forty minute walk to school. ‘Check the trashcans on the side of the road, first.’ Luckily, someone had dropped their paper in a bin. Shaun retrieved and stuffed it into his schoolbag. ‘Great.’
That night, after dinner, under the glow of the gaslight, he read every word on every page. He read the world news and current events. Reading about the world emerging from the worst recession in recorded history, as well as the fear generated by the threat of war clouds gathering on the horizon, scared the hell out of him.
Beyond locking himself in the toilet for five days; trying to avoid O’Flaherty proved to be a useless exercise. He endured threats, jibes and the occasional punch in the back of his head. Although painful, he remained steadfast, keeping his promise to his mother.
Shaun was absent when Maeve and Arnold attended the registry office for the wedding, although he knew it would sadden her. Both Shaun and his mother were devout Catholics, and Shaun knew Maeve would have loved nothing better than being married in her own church. Having spoken to Father O’Reardon, Shaun knew that would be impossible. Moreover, she could never afford a gown for such an occasion. Apart from the Celebrant, the only other people attending were two of Maeve’s friends from work.