Nine
Could a copper catch a crooked coffin maker
Could a copper comprehend
That a crooked coffin maker is just an undertaker
Who undertakes to be a friend?
And the fog on the tyne is all mine
© The fog on the Tyne: Lindisfarne
Newcastle upon-Tyne, city of the magpie and home of the Tyne river.
Kicking her way down the familiar dockland's, Bron smiled to herself. It was such a familiar smile. She could make out the familiar Tyne coffee shops, and she felt the laugh rise in her throat. These streets were where she'd grown up in many cases, and there was the unfamiliar sense of quiet.
She was home.
"Ugh, look at this dump." Charlotte most definitely was not. 'There's rats, ugh.'
"It's the docklands what do you expect?" Bron enquired, angrily. She glared at her. 'Charl if you're that desperate for a room to spend the night, go back to the train.'
Charl looked surprised. She'd never heard Bron snap so quickly at her. 'But…'
"Piss off." Bron picked up her suitcase, Angharad smirked. 'And what's wrong with you?'
"Just thinking, the last time I came here with you, I had nearly exactly the same conversation," Angharad responded. Bron laughed, remembering before they moved off.
Angy noted the streets in respectful silence. They were still marred from Thatcherite Britain, and yet the smile that alighted Bron's face was enough to make these streets seem full and lively again.
**
Number 24 Park Road, Newcastle upon-Tyne was silent apart from the sound of Elvis Costello and The Attraction's 'The Beat' playing in the air and the distant whistling of the kettle on the Aga fire.
One member of the household was lying upside down on the sofa, watching the television from a warped sense of vision. This was Bronwen. A girl was sitting reading the latest Tony Hill novel, with a frown of concentration on her face. This was Angharad. Another was applying lipstick and nodding her head to the bass-line of the song whilst the final member of the group, another female, smoked a silent cigarette. These were Gwen and Charlotte.
To a silent uninformed observer, this was merely a household of teenagers. Teenagers with nothing better to do with their time but sit around and do nothing. A disgrace on society and the country itself – a stereotypical view, true but something which would undoubtedly run through the mind of many.
"Bloody hell I'm bored," Bron stated, flipping off the sofa. She rolled out of her current position and onto the floor.
"We're all bored Bron," Angharad smiled gently, putting down the book and rubbing her eyes. Beneath them exhaustion had taken a hold. Hours of photography was taking it's toll. 'But there's nothing we can do.'
"Yes there is, we can go out," Gwen suggested. 'We're not under lock and key…'
"Who says, hello love," Dougie kissed her as he came in. Gwen grinned, whilst Bron made puking noises. 'Where can we go?'
Danny smiled at Angy as he put his arm around her shoulder. 'How about we go to… The stage club?'
"That dingy little hole just off of the Tyne?" Angy said turning in surprise. 'Where all the old gangsters used to hang out?'
Danny nodded. 'Yeah.., we could go as pairs. Me and you, Gwen and Dougs, Charl and Harry… Bron and…" he trailed off.
Tom was sitting next to Bron, the two bickering in whispers. Something they both sadistically enjoyed, although neither admitted that they enjoyed the others company. It was a healthier relationship now as well.
"Go together?" Bron chuckled as Tom dug at her side. 'Sounds cool.'
"Half six pick up?" Dougie asked, smiling as he stood. 'See you all later.'
**
The Stage club in Newcastle was one of the hottest places to visit, especially when you were a four man band, and had 4 intrepid journalists with you.
"Evening!" Bron shouted, as she walked into the club. The bartender turned and smiled on seeing her. 'How are you Gray?'
"Fucking hell little Bronnie Tyler and Angharad Locke where've you been?" laughed the big man, hugging her to him. 'Who're the brats?'
"McFly," Angy said, also reaching over to hug Gray. 'How are you big man?'
"Cant complain," he glanced at the window. 'Some big guys come in earlier, looking for you Bron… looked like some of The G lot.'
Angy glanced at Bron, who was being served by another man. Every inch of colour had left her face. 'G?' she enquired. Bron took a gulp from her drink.
"Who dares wins," Bron responded, frowning. 'SAS. Why they're in town I don't know.'
Angy nodded. She knew Bron's uncle had served with them, although he now ran a quiet pub in Brecon – not that Bron ever mentioned his proper name. She knew all the 'Tyler's' used assumed names but Bron only referred to him as Chris Tyler – his surname all but obliterated by the fact he was ex-SAS. The two moved over to their table, still talking in whispers.
"Is that bad? Them being in town like?" she asked. Bron's eyes connected with her blue, and she slowly realised that Bron was pale with anxiety. 'Bron?'
"It's not good, there's been trouble stirring as of late," Bron explained. She lifted her glass. 'Sláinte'
"Cheers," Charlotte responded cheerfully. 'Gaelic? I didn't know you spoke it.'
"Small little bits," Bron said, although her eyes didn't meet the others
The conversation was forgotten when the group got up to dance abandoning Bron and Tom.
"Slán agus beannacht leat!" Bron shouted, laughing as the girls slipped their hands around the boys' back and began to slow dance. Tom shook his head. 'Good blessings be with you.'
"Oh," Tom smiled at her. 'Don't you want to dance?'
"Can't," Bron tapped at her knee cap. 'Weak kneecap, fell down the stairs in Lori's last night.'
"Shit," Tom leant over and rubbed it for her. She winced 'Shit, hurt?'
"Not bad," she shook her head. 'It'll teach me to answer the phone in the dark.'
Tom laughed as he gently put his arm around her shoulder, tenderly missing the wounded left. She smiled at him thankfully. Although the peace of the situation would soon be obliterated.
"Excuse me Miss?"
Bron turned to see one of the big men from the window that Gray had warned her about. His face was scarred, and Tom couldn't help but be drawn to them. Bron had stiffened next to him, and he sat up ready for any fight.
"Yes sir?" she pushed Tom slowly down into his seat.
"Come with us,"
"Go hifreann leat!" Bronwen snapped. (To hell with you)
"Nil Gaeilge maith agam" the man replied.
"Fine, to hell with you!" Bronwen continued. The man put his hand on her shoulder.
No one had time to move before Bron had performed a tricky manoeuvre in which she had got his gun from his holster and was now pressing it into his side.
"Don't move!" She snapped, pushing him down to sit opposite her. Tom stared at her. 'I was brought up partly in the SAS barracks for the kids. Or rather the docklands."
she said to his unanswered question. She glared at the soldier. 'Now who are you?'
"The question is who are you?" the man swivelled.
"The names Bron," Bron tucked the gun into her jeans and looked at the man. 'What do you want?'
"The Captain wants to see you,"
Bron turned to see a familiar shape in the doorway. She slowly stood and handed the gun back. She quickly pulled on her jacket and nodded. The figure moved off.
"Your not going out there, are you?" demanded Tom, as the others' slowly approached. 'He'll…'
"It's an old friend," Bron kissed Tom's cheek and he blushed at the attention. 'Thanks for being naively concerned.'
And with that she left.
The bitter air chilled him as Captain McNab stood looking out over the Tyne. His dark hair was still cropped and despite being a respectable author and security guard now, the SAS was still deep within his heart.
"Hey Alex,"
T he girl he had helped bring up was standing behind him. A good distance away – a rule of the SAS was never to sneak up on someone who served with them. He turned to look at her.
"Hello Bronwen, or rather should I say Molly… that's the name you went by as a kid," he said, his Peckham accent standing out a mile against Bron's welsh tones.
"What's it all about?" she replied, and walked forward to receive a hug from the military man. 'How's Jane?'
"She's fine… she is your aunty," McNab teased, and put his arm around her shoulder. 'I love being a fake security guard to Justin.'
'And you still lie to Jane," Bron laughed, although his tight was deepened. 'Alex, what's going on? You've never done that to me… sent someone in to get me?'
"There's trouble in Ireland…"
"Isn't there always?" Bron replied sarcastically. 'What's happened now?'
"Serious threats this time…. Ever hear of Sinead O'Brien?"
"She's one of my best friends, why?" Bron turned, frowning to her godfather. 'Alex.'
"The threats serious. Her fathers got together with one of our oldest friends…" Alex suckered in some air, to repeat the name without swearing. 'Patrick Mulligan.'
The name immediately invoked a strangled cry from her throat. 'Paddy?'
"Yeah, the one and the same." Alex glared at the Tyne. 'He's made a threat against the Tyler's… and you.'
"Shit," Bron rubbed at her face. 'How's Sinead?'
"Out of Ireland thankfully, but the troubles are going to start again if intelligence is right," Alex looked at her. 'They plan to hit Scotland. Your concert. Thousands of kids there.'
"Why're you telling me all this?"
"So you know what you're dying for," Alex explained slowly.
"Dying…" Bron clicked. 'Their pulling the concert in Scotland?'
"Yes," Alex nodded. 'As soon as possible… at this moment your friends will be pulled from the tour. Chris will be joining you in Edinburgh and looking after you. Once Paddy's dead.'
"Lemme guess. Car accident?'
"Very good. Well, Ryan's in."
"I knew Chris would be," Bron sighed. 'He's got that many identities doing, it's hard to keep fucking up.'
Alex slapped her over the back of the head. 'Don't fucking swear.'
Bron growled her disapproval, and he laughed gently as she grumbled. 'That's an old joke.'
"I know," Alex hugged her again. 'I'd advise you wait an hour before you go home. My lads are about to do some irritating.'
"Do the rest know?" Bron said, pulling the coat tighter around her. 'Or is it on a need to know?'
"Up to you, not advised though!" He paused, obviously considering. 'If the tour continues without you, then Paddy will know something's majorly wrong. When Chris joins there's no reason to panic him, you're still there.'
"So basically I'm bait," Bron cocked an eyebrow.
"I'd much rather the word… temptation," Alex stated, winking.
As she walked down the docklands, Bron felt the unfamiliar fear run up and down her back. She hadn't lived in fear of the Irish Renegade Guards for many years now, and the sudden return made her feel sick.
For some reason, she wished Tom was here.
"Bron," Talk of the devil. 'You alright?'
"Don't tell me you've been wandering the docklands alone?" Bron asked, incredulously.
"No, well Angy was with me for a bit but then Charl rung saying she was going home with Gwen… that they were being told to leave…" he noted Bron's expression. 'You knew…'
"The guy I was talking to is my Uncles old Commanding Officer." Bron explained, as she put her hand in his and they began to walk down the docklands. 'He warned me about this trouble that's coming. The girls are safer away from me.'
"You're staying though?"
"Yes,"
They walked in silence, until they came to the familiar front of the Newcastle residence. Big men were moving stuff out and Bron quickly rescued her new leather jacket from one's back who laughed and ruffled her hair.
"Look Tom, I'll meet you tonight." She pointed down the street. 'Just by the corner.'
Tom chuckled. 'Meet me on the corner?'
"Lindisfarne," Bron replied, smiling. 'I'm a local lass. I used to sing it.'
He bowed to her. 'To my lady of the Tyne I bid you farewell.'
Bron watched him walk off and she smirked… the smirk vanished when she heard the shouting as she walked into the Newcastle home. She knew what would happen. The girls were being forcibly moved on. Although much to her surprise it was Angy putting up the fight. She dodged past the beret men.
"OI!" Angharad was running behind the big men who were moving her photography gear. 'Careful those aren't cheap!'
"Angharad just listen to them," she threw down her keys and walked through the house. 'It's advisable.'
Angharad scowled, eyes flashing angrily. 'They're messing with my stuff! You know how much my photography gear means to me!'
"Angharad!" Bron raised her voice slightly. 'It's not worth it! Just listen to them, please.'
"Fuck you, Bron!" Angharad snarled. 'It's not your stuff. They fucking mean a lot to me!'
"So does your life." Bron replied, sharper than usual. She ignored Angharad as she walked through to the kitchen. She pushed a frame photograph of her and Alex over as she passed it by.
"It's my life," Angharad hissed, leaning against the door jamb. Her face was red with fury as she continued. 'Then why am I being forced to leave when you can stay? If my life means so much then allow me the privilege of making my own choices.'
"No. You don't even know what's going on!" Bron replied, her anger now simmering down. She put on the kettle, and met Angharad's gaze with almost… too-old eyes. 'I'm staying on for a reason. I refuse to put your life in jeopardy.'
"Fine! I'm meant to be your best friend, yet you wont tell me what's going on or anything for that matter!" She turned away, her lips bloodless as she choked back angry tears. 'I'll leave quietly, if that's what you want. Just don't expect to see me for a while when this is over," she disappeared around the doorway and Bron sighed bitterly.
For a moment she considered letting her sulk, until the warning really hit home.
"ANGY! IT'S THE GUARDS!" Bron shouted, instantly she heard the return of Angharad. 'Angy this isn't a stupid game I'm playing, this is life and death. I don't know if I'm going to win this sodding one. Alex warned me there's a hit out on me and the Tyler's. I'm bloody bait,' Angy opened her mouth. 'Keep it shut, I want to tell you, and I want you to go please. If I get killed it's understandable.'
"No it isn't," Angharad hissed quietly. 'And fuck you Bron! I know you want to keep us safe but I refuse to be coddled.' She reached over and placed her hand on Bron's forearm. 'I'll leave if you really want me to, because you know the sort of danger we're facing. But it'll be a long time before our friendship heals from this.' She sniffled. 'You need protecting too!'
Bron sighed, before reaching under the drawer and withdrawing a Walther P99. She tucked it into her trousers, as well as raising her hand to the light. 'See Chris tomorrow then. He'll teach you a bit on shooting. If you stay mind the other two aren't sodding staying. Not on Gods green earth! And this is what the Paddy does,'
Angy for the first time noted small scars littering Bron's left hand, almost like small paper cuts.
"I got them while holding a glass in my hand. Outside Newcastle. The guy Chris and Alex are hunting shot it. I was lucky he missed. But he's always wanted my blood since." Bron put her hand down. 'As I warned you this isn't a game. I abstain from violence but in this guy's case I'll make an exception. Julian's staying only out of stubbornness but he's going to have to learn to shoot.'
Angharad smiled gently. 'Please! Like I'd let those madmen get me, and besides I know you want me to be there.'
Bron raised her eyebrows before saluting another officer. 'Take me to Corporal Tyler please.'
"He's ordered that you be picked up early tomorrow!" The soldier saluted before matching off.
"Who's this corporal."
"Chris," Bron winked. 'Come on soldier. You want to be a hero… let's see how long you last with him.'
Danny groaned as he realised what his girlfriend had done. The two journalists shared a look as the groaning guitarist rubbed at his eyes.
"I really can't believe you?!" he said, looking between the two as he pinched at the bridge of his nose. 'Angharad it's dangerous.'
"It's not that bad. We've got the best in the world looking after us!" Angharad protested. She looked at her boyfriend in surprise as he narrowed his eyes. 'Now Dan.'
"Bron talk sense to her."
"Bron talk sense, don't be stupid?!"
The voice came from the doorway as Julian walked in with two other men. 'I'm Chris.' Said the one. 'This is Jock.'
Bron smiled delightedly. 'Chris.'
Chris broke protocol immediately by scooping her up into his arms. Not even the officers could help but smile at this show of affection. It was a well-known fact that despite Bron and Chris's opposite views of the world, that he absolutely adored her and her him.
"Ok, you can let me go!" Bron laughed, when Chris's strong embrace threatened to break her back.
"Still ugly then?" Chris commented, eying her up and down to examine her.
"Still old?" Bron retorted, eyes twinkling behind the glasses.
Chris grinned at her. 'Come on, behave now. We'd better get you inside before they use your face as a security measure to keep enemies out!'
"Want me to support you Mr. Tyler? Or would you rather use your rifle as a crutch, you old git?"
The red headed gentleman joined the group, although he kept Bron in a firm headlock. 'You're going home and that's final.' His accent defined him as from Perth.
"Piss off you git,"
"DON'T FUCKING SWEAR!" Alex snapped although he continued to chuckle at his own joke. 'Hey Jules did you know Seventy-five per cent of the SAS are Scottish?'
"No," Julian sighed, he sensed a joke coming up. 'Any reason…'
"Because their fucking mental!" roared Chris, before noting Bron's expression. 'Bron, your turning blue.'
"Well get him off me then!" Bron gave Jock a brutal kick to the leg which somehow released her from his grasp.
Tom looked at Bron's face and grinned. One thing was for sure. It would never be boring while the two 'Enemies' were around.