Crystals Read online

  Crystals

  By Theresa L. Henry

  Text copyright © 2015 Theresa L. Henry

  All Rights Reserved

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the author and copyright holder; excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events. However, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidentally. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademark, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Adult Content: Contains sexually explicit scenes, violence and adult language. This book is for sale to adults only. Please store your files responsibly, where they will not be accessible to under-aged readers.

  Published by: Theresa L. Henry

  Table of Content

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  This was the six year old child’s first visit to Ireland. He had never met the frail old man lying in the bed before. What he encountered that day, for many reasons would remain with him for a lifetime.

  His mother’s hand at her grandfather’s back eased him into a sitting position. When he was comfortable, the wizened man beckoned him closer.

  Unaware of how it happened, he was standing beside a bed that wouldn’t have been out of place in another century. It was grand in a rustic way and the ornamental work caught and held his attention.

  “Boy!”

  The child heard the voice and turned his gaze towards the wrinkled old man, but showed no sign of being startled.

  “I like this one, Molly girl!”

  “He’s my best one, Da.”

  “I can see that. It’s there in the way he’s looking at me,” the old man replied as his piercing gold eyes pinned the boy with his gaze. “Do you know who I am, boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Continue to be a man of few words. Let your actions speak for themselves. Those men with endless chatter are more often than not hiding something. Remember to always look for the hidden meaning in all others say to you...”

  The boy’s head fell to one side as he studied the old man whose words had trailed off into silence.

  “Is he dead, Mum?”

  “Not yet, boy,” the man answered for his granddaughter. “What do you like to do, boy?”

  “My name isn’t boy!”

  “Got a temper, doesn’t he, Molly girl,” the old man laughed before a hacking cough interrupted his humor.

  His mother moved him out of the way. With tears running down her cheeks, she sat on the end of the bed and held her grandfather’s hand.

  The child had never seen his mother cry and his young mind attempted to work out whether he should pull her away from the old man. His mother had told him the reason for their trip to Ireland was to see her dying grandfather. He wasn’t entirely sure he understood what dying meant, but even so, he didn’t like seeing her in distress.

  “I missed you, Molly girl. Sorry, I was when me daughter died and your father took you away to England. Glad I am that you came back to see this old man.”

  “I’m sorry, Da. I should have come before.”

  “You know I don’t hold with that type of thing, girl. You’re here now because this is the time you were meant to come. That I’ve lived to see you again after all these years is all these old eyes have longed for.”

  The child watched them in silence as he patted his mother’s back in an innocent display of comfort.

  “Take care of your Mammy, you hear me, boy?!”

  “Yes.”

  His mother continued to cry as her grandfather closed his eyes. The lad saw and felt their deep bond. To date, this type of emotional display had never been a part of his young life. Although he didn’t fully understand their connection, he knew he wanted to experience the warmth that seemed to encapsulate them. And he knew some day he would.

  Chapter 1

  Memories have a way of pulling one in. Sometimes with pleasant recollections and others with disquieting thoughts. Today, Shane Tierney was in a good place. His plans for the future were coming to fruition and he was accomplishing them in his own way.

  Shane was a loner. He didn’t easily give his trust to others. His philosophy was simple. Trust no one and he wouldn’t get hurt. Get close to no one and their loss wouldn’t impact on his life.

  His family was from the East End of London, by way of Ireland and his father and older brother were hard men. He had grown up seeing and hearing things no child had a right to. By the time he was thirteen, he had visited his father in prison so many times he’d lost count. It seemed to him, his father was determined to spend his life behind bars. His older brother, Connor, eleven years his senior was following in their father’s footsteps.

  There was no getting away from it, his father and brother were hardened criminals. Yet to Shane’s mind, they really should have found another occupation as they were both too incompetent for that way of life.

  His mother, Molly, rarely smiled. When he was younger she took care of him only as much as to ensure he was clean, fed and attended school. As for love, that emotion was never a part of his life. As far as he was concerned, Molly had used up her quota of love with his father and brother until none remained for him. While her lack of affection hurt him, he’d accepted it in his usual reserved manner.

  While he was growing up, the police were always at their door. If something unlawful happened in their neighborhood, the Tierney household was their first port of call. By the time he was a teenager, it seemed to Shane that the police were waiting on the peripheral of his life for him to break the law. It also appeared that his mother was waiting for the same thing.

  His one and only run-in with the law had been when he was fifteen years old.

  Shane – Age Fifteen

  “Are you in or not?” Perry Sutton asked again.

  Shane had given the question serious consideration since Perry first posed it five days before. He was fifteen years old and his father and brother were both in prison—again. His mother refused to accept anything from his father’s criminal friends. That meant they had to survive on her meager waitress salary, and for them, money was always in short supply.

  He understood what Molly was attempting to do, keep him away from the lifestyle his father and brother were a part of. That was just one of the reasons he turned down Perry Sutton’s proposal to join a gang of boys who were beginning their criminal lives by robbing homes. That and the fact that he couldn’t understand their mentality. The people in their neighborhood had so little, so breaking in and stealing what had probably taken them years to acquire didn’t make any sense.

  Everything Molly did worked until he overheard a conversation between one of his father’s supposed friends and his mother.

  Molly never al
lowed men into their home. But this one, for some reason, had somehow gained access. Whatever the man had to say carried enough importance to cause her to break her own rule.

  His curiosity piqued, Shane pretended to play his computer game as they spoke in lowered voices. Something wasn’t right.

  He’d seen and been around men like his mother’s visitor before. He was the type of man who tried to act as though they were worthy of respect when, in fact, they were chancers looking for another mark.

  At first glance, the stranger gave the impression of prosperity. But on closer inspection one saw the signs of shabbiness he tried to hide. His suit was shiny and the collar and cuffs of his shirt were frayed from repeated use.

  He was also a sweaty bastard. When Molly stepped back from the hand that attempted to stroke her arm, Shane forgot all pretense of playing his racing game. The stranger had just solicited his mother for sex.

  Shane knew she wouldn’t answer his question but asked it just the same. “What does he want, Mum?”

  “Don’t you worry about what I want with ya, mum. Go upstairs. This shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Get out of our house!”

  “Shane don’t!”

  Ignoring his mother’s warning, he walked toward them. “Touch me mum again and I’ll break ya fucking arm!”

  “Shane!”

  “You need to listen to your mum, boy!”

  The comment was loaded with such disdain, Shane pulled in a deep breath to hold on to his temper. When he felt he was under control, he shrugged off his mother’s restraining hand and pushed her behind him.

  He then faced the man who thought to come into their home and disrespect her. “You can leave on your own or with my help. Take ya pick.”

  Shane felt Molly move to stand beside him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the older man.

  “Just go, Tommy. There’s nothing here for you now.”

  “There used to be, Molly girl.”

  “That was a long time ago. You were a bastard then and from what I can see nothing’s changed,” Molly fired back. “Do you think after all these years you can turn up and I’d be glad to see ya? Well, you’re a bloody fool if that’s what’s in your mind. Get out of my house and don’t come back!”

  “Bobby’s not coming back so what are ya saving it for? You don’t have much time left before your face and figure’s gone. Then where are ya gonna be? I’ll tell you where… alone in this shit hole with no one to cuddle up next to at night.”

  Shane had seen old photos of his mother. Molly had been beautiful as a lot of Irish women were. In her youth, she had possessed jet black hair and startling blue eyes, that is a characteristic of so many people from that island. He never knew that woman. The vibrant beauty of those images had disappeared before his recollection. What remained was a diluted version of her former self. Her good looks now just a faint representation of what she had once been.

  “What I do is my business,” Molly answered Tommy her voice loaded with scorn. “Look at ya. You think the likes of you has something to offer me—well ya don’t! Coming in here like ya have something I want. I didn’t want ya twenty-six years ago and I don’t want ya now. I made my decision and I’m living with it. By the look of ya, I made the right choice. So piss off and take ya shiny suit with ya!”

  This was the most spirit his mother had shown in years. Shane couldn’t help himself, he laughed.

  He saw Tommy’s hand move towards him. The force of the blow that connected with his jaw rocked him back on his heels. All traces of his amusement disappeared. In its place, a veil of red seeped across his vision and his mind went blank.

  Shane was tall and slim and his build routinely fooled others into thinking he couldn’t look after himself, and, in this case, his mother.

  He went after the bastard so fast, Tommy only had time to register surprise before he unleashed two punches, making direct contact with the interloper’s face.

  He didn’t know how it happened, but somehow the older man was on his back and he was beating him to a pulp. His mother’s screams for him to stop went unheeded. By the time he came to his senses, Tommy’s face was a canvas painted in blood.

  Blinking, Shane rose to his feet and stumbled backwards. He felt nothing—not even satisfaction. Just a cold emptiness at what he was capable of.

  Tommy, still on his backside shuffled backwards. As he staggered to his feet, Shane stalked his every move. Before the older man reached the front door, he already held it open. Then he waited with seeming patience for him to stumble out. Once Tommy stood propped up by the balcony outside their flat, he slammed the door in his face.

  When he returned to the front room, Molly was on her hands and knees scrubbing at the carpet with a brush and a bowl of soapy water.

  “Look what you’ve done, Shane. Just look what you’ve gone and done. Full of lies that Tommy. The old bill’s gonna be ‘ere any minute.”

  “So he’s a grass as well as a coward! So what. Let the police come, and I’ll tell um he came in our house and hit me. All I did was finish what he started!”

  His mother said nothing more. She just hung her head and scrubbed at the carpet. After watching her for a few more moments, he turned away.

  It didn’t take long for the loud banging on their front door to begin. Shane wondered why the police never used the bell. They always banged on the door as though it was their special way of announcing their arrival.

  There was three of them. All standing in his mother’s house shaking their heads and telling him they expected nothing less from, Robert Tierney’s son.

  The sight of Molly’s blank look was the last thing he saw as they handcuffed him and dragged him away.

  ~~~

  Of course, they couldn’t charge him with anything. Whatever lies Tommy spewed hadn’t stuck. He was a fifteen-year-old skinny kid up against a full grown man who had initiated everything that had happened.

  Detective Bilston, an older man nearing retirement age, took hold of his arm as he was about to leave the police station with his mother.

  “Remember what I said, Shane. You can go the same way as your father and brother, or you can make a decision right now to change your life.”

  Shane pulled his arm away as he belligerently looked the detective up and down.

  Turning to Molly, the detective addressed her. “He’s useful with his fists. Take this number,” he said handing her a piece of paper. “See if you can’t get him to put those hands to better use.”

  Molly took the number with only a nod. Shane felt for his mother, but he couldn’t hide his disdain at the cliché. “Yeah, that’s right—send the East End boy to a gym and get him into a boxing ring. Well, it ain’t gonna happen. So you can take ya number and shove it!”

  “Okay, no boxing,” the detective said with only a touch of exasperation. “So, why don’t you tell me what you’re interested in? I get it you know, you’re angry. Probably at the whole world, but only you can change your life, young man. If you don’t want to do it for yourself, do it for your mum. How much more do you think she can take?”

  Bilston knew the family well thanks to his father and brother and he had watched Molly slowly fade away, just as Shane had.

  Molly was Shane’s one soft spot. He could have been involved in any number of unlawful acts. For his mother’s sake, much more than his own, he’d chosen not to.

  “Cars,” Shane whispered.

  “What?”

  “I said, cars. I’m interested in cars.”

  “Okay, cars it is,” Bilston acknowledged with a nod. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll see if I can get you a part-time job at a local garage. In return, you’ll do well in school, make your mum proud and stay out of trouble even if it comes looking for you. Do we have a deal?”

  Shane looked at the hand the detective held out to him. Then he looked at his mother. What he saw on her face shocked him. Her eyes were flooded with tears and she looked as though she was holding her breath in h
ope.

  “Deal,” Shane agreed as he shook the detective’s hand.

  Detective Bilston kept his word. He secured a job for Shane in a garage. With the lack of warmth he experienced at home, he poured all his efforts into his education and his part-time job. Hard work and the determination to change the circumstances of his life got him into university to study engineering.

  Shane attended a university close to home so that he could keep an eye on his mother, who in the last two years seemed to be fading away.

  Returning home one cold winter's night, as soon as he opened the front door he knew something was wrong. There was an unnatural stillness inside the small flat that permeated the air and seeped into him causing his muscles to tighten.

  He found her in the bathroom. Molly was already cold and still dressed in her nightgown. His once beautiful mother was gone. Her final moments of life spent lying alone on a cold linoleum floor.

  The weeks that followed were difficult ones for Shane. Although Molly had left instructions and money to pay for her cremation, he didn’t ask anyone for help to organize his mother’s funeral. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t have known who to turn to. So he made all the arrangements alone.

  He had told Molly’s boss about her death and had given him details of her funeral. He never really expected the man to turn up so it was no surprise when he didn’t.

  On the day of her cremation, there was only one other mourner. Somehow Detective Bilston had found out about his mother’s death. He alone stood beside Shane. They didn’t speak to each other, but his presence helped him to stand tall and accept that he now had to fend for himself.

  Taking an additional leave of absence from university, Shane began the laborious task of sorting through his mother’s belongings. It was at this time that he found a bank account in his name. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw how much money now belonged to him. There was also a neatly folded letter in Molly’s handwriting.

  Shane,

  You’re all alone now. My grandfather left me this money, but I saved every penny for you. He would have wanted that. Do what you like with it because this is all I could do for you.