The Curtis Blake Killings

as Curtis and his mother, Doreen, made their way along the gravel path that surrounded St Mark’s Roman Catholic Church in Croxteth. Holding a fresh bunch of red tulips in her right hand, Doreen had her left hand entwined into Curtis’ right arm.
The Church had been built at the beginning of the 19th century and was where Shaun had been buried. Curtis had only been to his brother’s grave once since he was killed two years earlier. It was too painful for him. Curtis still expected his older brother to walk through the door of their house with some tinnies. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that it was never going to happen ever again. He would never see his brother again. The thought of that made him feel physically sick.
Curtis had spent the first few weeks after Shaun’s murder in a numb, hedonistic blur of coke, booze and meaningless sex. This was punctuated by fits of uncontrollable rage. A man in his thirties had given Curtis ‘a funny look’ in The Sugar Cane Club one night and Curtis had put the man in hospital, nearly killing him. The man had to be paid off and ‘persuaded’ not to press charges.
As they got to the graveyard at the rear of the church, Curtis could feel the warm air brush against his face. He looked at the sky - a baby blue that seemed so gentle in-between the clouds that seemed too stationary. The trees that stretched up into that sky were now dotted green with new buds. Having shed their winter covers, they had appeared, ready to seek out the sunshine.
Curtis looked over at his mother. The sunlight seemed to highlight that she was wearing too much make-up. He didn’t care. Even though she had been devastated by Shaun’s death, she had remained sober and clean. And that was a miracle. He loved her so much and didn’t know what he would do if anything ever happened to her.
As they approached the grave, Curtis could feel himself getting nervous. He didn’t want to see where Shaun was lying. It had been his mum that had persuaded him to come with her.
The new grey headstone came into view but Curtis couldn’t bring himself to look at the inscription. He watched as his mum leant down, placed the tulips gently on the grave alongside the other flowers and then place a kiss with her fingers on the headstone.
‘Shaun would have liked it here. It’s so quiet,’ Doreen said.
Curtis nodded and finally let his eyes fall on the grave itself. It still didn’t feel real. Like a bad dream that he would wake up from.
After ten minutes, they turned and began to make their way back to the car. Curtis reached for his mother’s hand. It was cold as he squeezed it gently in his. He felt the sharp edges of her engagement ring on his palm. He resolved to come and see his brother on a regular basis. Shaun would like that.
‘You’re gonna be all right, you know that, Curt?’ Doreen said.
‘I don’t want to do anything without him,’ Curtis said, feeling choked. He took a breath and tried not to cry. ‘Does that make sense, mum?’
‘Yeah. You were more than brothers,’ Doreen said. ‘He looked out for you when you were kids.’
‘Remember that time I rode my bike off that garage roof round the back?’ Curtis said, reminiscing.
‘Shaun went mad with you. He bloody frog marched you back home like he was your dad. Told you not to do it again,’ Doreen said.
‘Then I went and did it again the next morning and broke my arm,’ Curtis said with a smile.
‘You daft sod. Shaun was beside himself. He sat up with you all night at the Royal Liverpool,’ Doreen said.
As they got to the car, Curtis turned to his mother and gave her a hug.
July 2003
The inside of the Cross Foxes Pub in Dinas Padog was uncomfortably hot and the air felt thick. As Nick leaned against the bar in his shorts and t-shirt, he got that comforting smell of beer and warm wood that he associated with long summer days.
The barman came over, ‘What can I get you, Nick?’
Nick remembered that he used to go to school with the barman’s older brother Stu. ‘Pint of lager and a large Jack Daniel’s and ice, please mate,’ Nick said. He couldn’t remember the barman’s name.
A moment later, the Jack Daniel’s arrived on the red bar towel in front of him. Taking a furtive look around the inside of the pub, Nick knocked the whiskey back in one gulp. He didn’t want anyone seeing him drinking pints and whiskey chasers. Dinas Padog was a small town, and everyone knew everyone and their business.
Nick paid for the drinks, took the pint and headed outside into the sunshine of the pub garden. The whiskey was starting to blur the edges of the day nicely. He had arranged to meet Laura there and was feeling anxious. He didn’t know why. Laura had been living back home for a few months now and Nick had been to see her a few times. She looked like a different person. When Nick had suggested that they meet at the Cross Foxes, Laura had agreed immediately with a smile. Even though he and Laura hadn’t been going out now for over two years, Nick wondered if there was any hidden agenda. What was Laura thinking? Drinks with a bloke I used to go out with, or more?
As Nick gulped back his pint, it dawned on him that the beer garden at the Cross Foxes held fond memories from the time that he and Laura first got together in the late 90s. The summer of ’99 if he remembered correctly. The soundtrack of that summer had been albums by The Stereophonics and the Manic Street Preachers. Great songs by Welsh bands. That August, he and Laura had gone to V99 Festival to see the Manics play. Even now, Nick