Heartbreaker (26 page)

Word got out quickly that Johnny Burns was using. He didn’t even have to go out to score, entrepreneurial dealers brought the stuff to him at home. They were like travelling salesmen. ‘Whaddya wanna buy? We’ve got it all, the entire fucking candy store. Yours if you’ve got the money.’ Which Johnny had, so no problem there. One guy even sold him a vintage guitar along with his pills and powder. Somewhere along the line he got into smack; Nicci and the girls were long gone by then.

Following the double tragedy, the press staked out the remaining three band members. Dan Cross hired security for them and their families, and not only to protect them from the press: Andy Airey’s killer was still at large. Johnny, as always, got the worst of the attention. Helmsleigh Village was packed with journalists.

***

Johnny had been drinking at the George and Dragon, one of the few places he could go to safely in the aftermath of the deaths of Andy and Tom. He had a minder with him and Gerry had barred all gentlemen of the press from the pub. Some of the other local traders considered him a fool for doing that; there was a fortune to be made and the gravy train would soon enough leave town. Gerry wasn’t interested. He didn’t want their money, he considered it tainted.

It was early morning when Johnny finally fell out of the pub, quite literally, as it happened, ending up on all fours on the pavement. As he blinked owlishly and tried to get up, he was blinded by a flash of light. Before Johnny’s minder reacted, Gerry leapt down the steps and grabbed the photographer, already turning to flee with his prize.

‘You fucking vulture,’ Gerry spat as he pounded the man with his fists, beating him to the pavement. ‘Making money out of other people’s heartache.’ He snatched the man’s camera and threw it to the bodyguard. ‘Here: get the film out of that.’ He turned back to the hapless photographer, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him forward until the two men’s noses were practically touching. ‘If I see your fucking face round here again, I’ll tear it off for you. Do you understand, you piece of shit?’ growled Gerry.

The man nodded frantically. The fact that he appeared to be about to escape with his life had registered on his consciousness and he would have agreed to anything. Gerry took the now empty camera from the bodyguard and threw it at the photographer. Then he took the cassette and pulled the film from it, ruining it beyond doubt. Finally, he got Johnny, who was sitting on the pavement enjoying the show and cheering Gerry on, back onto his feet. ‘Fucking fat lot of good you turned out to be,’ Gerry spat at the bodyguard as he got Johnny into the car to be driven home.

Next time he saw Johnny, he was with a different minder.

Chapter 68

‘Have you any idea why Johnny went so completely out of control then?’ Alex asked Gerry.

He shook his head. ‘Nothing specific. Mind you, I think he and Tom had fallen out just before.’ He shifted in his chair, getting comfortable. ‘I saw them together maybe a week before Tom’s death. They didn’t come into the pub, they were walking through the village. It was obvious they were arguing.’ Gerry thought hard, trying to remember details. ‘Johnny looked really angry and Tom seemed to be trying to calm things down. That was unusual in itself, it was normally the other way round. I saw Johnny pushing Tom around, but Tom didn’t retaliate. Johnny pushed Tom so hard, he nearly knocked him flat on his backside, then he walked away.’

‘Did they fight often?’

‘All the time, rough and tumble, they all did. I’ve never known a group of grown men fight like kids the way they did.’ He shook his head. ‘But not like that. Arguing and pushing and shoving.’

‘Could you hear what they were saying?’

‘Not a word. And I never mentioned seeing them to Johnny. I figured if they were at loggerheads when Tom died, that would have made things even worse for him. I didn’t want to remind him.’

‘He’s okay, love,’ Elaine told Alex as she came into the room. ‘Sleeping like a baby.’ She gathered up the teapot and mugs. ‘Another pot?’

Gerry nodded. All this talking was thirsty work. ‘Yes, please, love, that would be nice.’ He turned to Alex. ‘We had our work cut out, keeping Johnny out of the papers when he was drugged up, mind you. He got up to some stunts, I can tell you.’

Chapter 69

1987

Johnny was wired. He’d been awake for five days, couldn’t seem to switch off. He’d had powders and potions and pills, washed them all down with lots and lots of vodka. This past day or so, everything seemed to have moved into a different dimension. It was all so vivid, like a kid’s drawing when the trees and the sun have been outlined in black to make them stand out. People seemed to come and go at odd times; he knew some of them. It was dark outside, but he wasn’t tired. If he could just switch his fucking brain off, he’d be fine, he knew.
Think, Johnny, think. What makes you sleep?
He smoked a joint he found in his shirt pocket, didn’t share it, no one else around.

He pushed at his hair to get it out of his eyes. It hung in sweaty clumps around his face. His skin was covered in a greasy sheen. He sniffed, wrinkled his nose at the sour odour. Something smelt bad, and it seemed to be following him around. He looked under the chair, behind the sofa. He could smell it, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Sleep. He needed sleep. He was going bugshit. He would have sold his soul for a good night’s sleep and a sweet dream.

Nicci could have helped him get to sleep. Nicci always soothed him. But Nicci was gone. Faithless fucking witch.

Being driven. That used to work. He used to nod off in the van sometimes in the early days, when they were touring, lulled by the murmur of the engine and the rhythm of the road as they ate up the miles to the next town, the next gig. There was a sleek, black car on the drive, which he knew belonged to him. He knew he needed a key to make it go, but didn’t know where it was. Things seemed to move without his knowledge. Sometimes the car wasn’t even there.

After a short while Johnny bounded outside, having rummaged around until he found a jumble of keys in the drawer of an antique console table. He tried the car door: it was open. Good start. He climbed in, sniffed, grimaced. Fucking stinky thing had sneaked in with him. Fuck it. He didn’t care, he had other things on his mind. Now for the keys. He tried his front door key. It didn’t fit. He put it back in the pile on the passenger seat then enjoyed a moment of relative clarity:
if I keep putting the keys back in the same place, I’ll just keep trying the same ones over and over
. He cracked the door open. Next key he tried would have fitted the back door, but not the car ignition. He dumped it onto the drive. He was smiling: now he just had to try all the keys until one fitted.

Eventually, a key did fit. Johnny put his feet on the pedals.
Oh oh; too many feet.
Then he remembered; the car was an automatic. He put his left foot on the rest at the side. There was one ‘go’ pedal and one ‘stop’ pedal, which was handy, because there was one foot left to press them with. He heard a voice in his head: c
lunk click every trip;
and he fastened the seat belt. He was ready to go just as soon as he started the car.

The engine fired first time.
So it should,
he thought.
It fucking cost enough.
Picture of a little horse on the front. He’d always liked that little horse. Johnny revved the tits off his motor. Nothing happened.
It should be moving
, he thought,
I’m stamping on the ‘go’ pedal
. Then he remembered;
even though it’s automatic, you have to put the little stick in the right place before you can go anywhere.

Johnny moved the little stick, tried ‘drive’; that’s what he wanted to do, after all, drive the thing so it would rock him to sleep. He roared up the driveway, scattering gravel and waking up most of the occupants of his house as he went. He tore up the road, having fun negotiating all those little bends …
Follow the white line, that’s the way. Stick to the middle of the road. Follow the line all the way to the village, race round the village green, then follow the white line all the way home again.
If he did that, he would finally get some sleep, he knew it.

Chapter 70

‘I don’t know if that was the first time he’d pulled a stunt like that, but it was the first time I’d heard him tearing up the village. He woke me up, that’s how much noise he made. I looked out of the window at the front just in time to see that black sports car of his take the corner onto the main street. He nearly lost it then, it snaked like a bastard, but he got it under control, then he took off like a rocket down the High Street.’ Gerry chuckled. ‘Most of the houses I could see had lights on and curtains twitching by then.

‘Next morning, I drove out to see how things were. The place was like a doss house at that time, all sorts of people seemed to be living there. His housekeeper had upped and left, she couldn’t put up with it anymore. I popped in every so often to see what state he was in, and he occasionally came into the village. During the day, I mean.

‘Anyway, I was almost there when I saw the car. You know that bend about a quarter of a mile before the entrance where that big clump of bushes is?’

Alex nodded, she knew the spot.

‘Well, his car was buried in the bushes. You could just see the back of it, it was in so deep. There was a hell of a skid trail on the road, he laid down a lot of rubber before he crashed.’

Chapter 71

Gerry’s heart was in his mouth as he pulled up at the side of the road and got out of his car. The crash must have happened about five hours previously, by his reckoning. It was about nine o’clock now. He took a deep breath before he moved towards the wreckage, prepared himself for the worst.
Surely
, he thought,
no one could have survived such a high speed impact
. He pushed his way through the bushes, heedless of the scratches he was collecting, and peered into the car. It was empty. Gerry was at the driver’s side and the door wouldn’t open, but he could see that the passenger door had been forced open and stood ajar.

Johnny must be injured. He must have fought his way out in case the petrol tank blew, could be anywhere by now, dazed, concussed, dying even. Gerry began searching the area. He soon found Johnny, slumped against a tree trunk. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving. Gerry crept closer, wrinkled his nose at the sour stench. When he checked, he found that Johnny was breathing and he had a pulse. Tentatively, Gerry shook him.

Johnny opened his eyes in bewilderment, slowly coming to. Then he started ranting. ‘You fucking bastard, Gerry. Couldn’t you see I was sleeping? You woke me up, you inconsiderate cunt!’

Chapter 72

Gerry chuckled. ‘He went mad, completely apeshit. I was just so relieved he was in one piece, I let him get away with it.’

‘So what had happened?’

‘He’d been tear-arsing back home when he saw a rabbit in the middle of the road. Bloody idiot swerved to avoid it. He was lucky; where he came off the road, there was that great, dense clump of bushes. They absorbed most of the impact and he stopped. Also, miraculously, he had his seat belt on. He got out of the car, sat up against a tree and went to sleep. Not a care in the world. Of course, the car had had it. He ripped the floor pan out on a tree stump. He got it towed away and had another one delivered.’

***

Alex checked on Johnny again before she left. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, she wondered what he was dreaming of. It had been decided that they wouldn’t move him that night; she would come back for him the next day.

When Alex got home it was about nine-thirty. She picked up the phone.

‘Hi, Siobhan,’ she said. ‘How’s things?’

‘Good. We’re fine. How about you?’

Alex told her.

‘Oh, God, that sounds awful,’ said Siobhan. ‘Poor you.’

‘Thing is,’ said Alex, ‘I really need to go home on Saturday. Just overnight, but I daren’t leave him. He’s bad enough when I’m here.’

‘He might be less of a danger to himself if you’re not,’ observed Siobhan. ‘If you’re right, if it’s the past he’s running away from.’

‘Even so, is there any chance you and Paul could come for the weekend? I know it’s short notice, but I’m worried sick.’

‘Well, we’ve no other plans.’ She chuckled. ‘It’ll be like old times, babysitting Johnny.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. We’ll be with you late afternoon. That way, if you want to get an early start on Saturday, you can.’

‘Siobhan, you’re a lifesaver. I owe you big time for this.’

Alex went up to bed feeling easier in her mind. She couldn’t miss the irony of the situation, though; now it was Johnny at the George and Dragon and her at the house.

Chapter 73

By the time Siobhan and Paul arrived next day, Johnny was back home and in fairly reasonable shape. They hugged, pleased to see each other, then the men disappeared into the studio, leaving Alex and Siobhan to chat over a bottle of Côtes du Rhône.

‘How is he today?’ asked Siobhan.

‘A bit sorry for himself, otherwise he seems okay.’ Alex swirled the deep, red liquid around in her glass, releasing the rich aroma of the wine. ‘Gerry told me about him wrecking his car back in ’87.’

‘The Ferrari, when he was off his face?’ Alex nodded. ‘Yes, I remember that. He was about a year in to his suicide mission. We’d all but given up on him. He wouldn’t talk to any of us by then, anyway. He cut off anyone who’d been even remotely connected with the band.’ Siobhan put her head on one side, remembering. ‘When Nicci left, Paul moved in with him for a couple of weeks to try to sort him out. There was no way he should have been left on his own.’ She shook her head. ‘It didn’t work, though. He’d sneak out when Paul was asleep or whatever, or if Paul chased one dealer away, Johnny would find another. Or they would find him. Johnny was a complete arsehole then. All the guile, cunning, and innate selfishness of the committed addict. There was no reasoning with him.’