Chapter 1

Day 1

Tommy Malone was sitting quietly in the train, on the platform of King’s Cross Station, when the two nuns came into the carriage. The only two seats together were opposite his. The nuns seemed a little reluctant to sit near someone who looked like Tommy: although quite handsome, he had quite long, black hair, he wore earrings and many silver rings on the fingers of both hands, and there were glimpses of tattoos on his arms. “Excuse me, Sisters,” he said, “can I help you with your luggage?” They were still reluctant, but their cases were quite heavy.

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” the older of the two women said. “You’re welcome!” Tommy replied. After hoisting the two cases up onto the rack overhead, he sat quietly looking out of the window. After a moment or two he smiled. “Forgive my manners,” he said to the older nun, now sitting in the seat next to the aisle, “ ... would you prefer a window seat, too?” The older woman returned his smile. “ ... If you wouldn’t mind!” Tommy stood in the aisle until the Sister was seated again.

He actually didn’t mind the aisle seat as he had quite long legs and could stretch out. Before he’d sat down, he’d retrieved his copy of the Guardian, which was already folded open on the crossword page. A few of the cryptic puzzle’s clues had been answered, but there were enough left to do to keep him occupied for some time. He lived in North London now, but he was going to Hull for a few days, to stay with his parents. This train from King’s Cross was the only one that morning that left at a reasonable time and he wouldn’t have to change at Doncaster.

After forty minutes or so, the older woman stood up. “I need to stretch my legs, Mary Teresa,” she said to her young companion. “I shouldn’t be long.” Tommy stood to let her pass and as he sat down again, he looked towards the young woman wearing the white veil. He smiled but he didn’t talk. After another few minutes, a young man dressed all in black stood in the aisle near them.

“Excuse me ... you’re Tommy Malone, aren’t you? I saw your last gig in Birmingham ... fucking awesome, Man ... truly fucking awesome!” Tommy smiled.

“Thanks, Man! But watch the language, eh!” The young man looked across briefly at the young woman seated next to the window.

“Oh, yeah ... right! ... Er ... sorry ... Miss!” The young woman smiled and nodded to acknowledge the apology.

“ ... Er, Tommy ... do you think I could maybe take a photo ... my mates are fans, too and they’ll never believe me...”

“Sure, a quick one!” The young man took a phone out of his jacket pocket.

“That’s great!” he exclaimed after the image was captured. “ ... Er ... we couldn’t just have one together...” Tommy smiled. He looked across to the young woman. “Would you mind?” he asked. “Not at all! Which button works the shutter?” The picture taken, the young man went away happy.

“Does that happen often, Mr Malone?”

“ ... Not so much. It’s usually only fans that recognise me. I don’t mind if people are polite ... and he obviously goes to the gigs and buys the music. Sorry about the swearing, though; I think it’s just habit with a lot of people.”

“It really doesn’t bother me,” the young nun replied, “As you say, it’s just the culture we live in. And I didn’t recognise you, but I do know the name Tommy Malone ... and Handful of Darkness... I haven’t always been a nun.”

“Not quite a nun, if I’m not mistaken.”

“No, quite right ... still a novice. Are you a catholic, Mr Malone?”

“ ... Hmm! Sore point! I ‘opted out’, quite some time ago. To thine own self be true, Shakespeare said ... good advice! We may disagree on this point, but I believe ‘faith’ is a personal decision which everyone should come to in their own time and their own way. Who knows what I may believe in time, but for the moment, I believe you can still lead a good life without the formal dogmas. I’d much rather be an honest atheist than a hypocritical Christian. No offence intended.”

“ ... And none taken, Mr Malone!”

Sister Catherine returned to her seat; she never spoke to Mary Teresa until the refreshment trolley was brought round. “Would you like some tea, Mary?”

“ ... Yes, please! May I say you’re looking a little pale, Sister: are you feeling unwell?”

“Yes, I felt a little ill earlier, but I feel better for my walk. But thank you for asking.”

The rest of the journey progressed as it should and the train pulled into Hull station a few minutes after its scheduled arrival of 14:19. Even before the train had completely stopped, Tommy was out of his seat and getting the nuns cases down for them.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he said to Sister Catherine, “but you still look quite pale. I’m getting a cab; let me help you with your cases and I’ll drop you off somewhere.”

“That’s very kind of you ... I do still feel a little odd.”

“All right, then! Do you think you can take my bag,” he said to Mary Teresa, “it’s lighter than yours, then I can carry both of your cases.”

The two nuns got out first and waited on the platform while Tommy lifted their cases out. Their tickets had already been clipped by the on-board inspector, so they didn’t need to show them again. Mary Teresa put Tommy’s bag over her shoulder and steadied Sister Catherine as Tommy walked a few paces in front of them. They exited the platform and walked towards the line of waiting taxis.

“Mr Malone!” he heard Mary Teresa’s urgent voice call out. He turned and saw the older woman lying on the ground, with a crowd of people gathering around her.

“Do you know me?” he asked the cab driver.

“Of course, Tommy!”

“ ... Well, here’s twenty quid. Take these cases to 146 Woodvine Avenue. When you get there, tell whoever opens the front door that I’ve had to take a friend to the hospital, and that I’ll ring them later.”

He hurried back to where the two nuns were. Someone had covered Sister Catherine with a blanket; Mary Teresa was looking as pale as her friend had been. He wasn’t sure what the exact protocol was, but he put a strong arm around her.

“I’ll come with you to the hospital. I’ve sent your cases off to my mum and dad’s ... we can always fetch them later. Where were you staying; can we let them know what’s happened?”

“ ... What ... I ... I’m sorry ... I can’t...” she uttered; she was obviously in shock. A few people looked at Tommy clearly recognising him, but if he caught their eye he gave them a look that seemed to say: Not now, please!

The ambulance drove straight onto the station concourse. Tommy spoke to the medics:

“We were sitting together on the train. This lady went for walk and she said she felt unwell. She was still not right when we got here, so I was going to take her wherever she was going in a taxi, but she just collapsed.”

“Okay! Let’s get her into the ambulance ... we’ll take her straight to the Infirmary. Are you coming with us?” one of the medics said.

“ ... Yes, if there’s room for us all. I think the other lady’s still very shaken.” As they drove to Hull Royal Infirmary, the medic continually monitored Sister Catherine’s vital signs.

“ ... Quite weak, but I’ve seen worse. How long are you home for this time, Tommy?”

“Just a few days with my folks, then back to London. I need a rest after this last tour: a few months off, then back into the studio. Are you all right, Love?” Mary Teresa nodded.

They pulled up outside the A&E Department and the ambulance crew took Sister Catherine straight in to be examined. A nurse came and sat by Mary Teresa. “If I can take some basic details...” While the nurse was talking to her, Tommy slipped outside again to phone home.

“Hello, Ma! Did the cases arrive safely? Yes, two nuns I was on the train with ... one of them collapsed ... she’s being seen now. Ma, is Bernie home ... we might need her room for a night or two ... the other nun ... she’s quite young, and she seems a bit lost and confused at the moment! Okay, Ma ... I’ll see you when I see you!”

“Mr Malone? I understand that you were with the lady when she collapsed. I’m afraid it’s that old cliché: we need to run some tests,” the doctor said, “She’s still unconscious, but she appears to be stable. I don’t think that there’s anything the other lady can do, so she might as well go home for the night. As she couldn’t give us a contact number, perhaps you can give us yours.”

“Aye! I’ll give you my ma’s number: I’ll take the other one there tonight; shall we come back tomorrow or ring first?”

“ ... Oh, ring about noon; ask for admissions and they’ll redirect you.”

They caught a cab to Tommy’s parents; Mary Teresa seemed a lot better.

“I’ll have a look through Sister Catherine’s things, there must be an address for where we were going. You’ve been very kind, but I can’t impose on you any longer.”

“Don’t be daft, Lass! You’re no bother and my ma will be made up! My little sister must be about your age; she spends more time at her boyfriend’s than she does at home. We won’t bother you if you want to be alone, but you’re more than welcome to mix with the rest of the family.”

“ ... And will you be here?”

“Aye, I will. I’ve come here for a few days rest to catch up with my family. Don’t believe everything you read ... the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle is reserved for the media’s sake ... it’s all a show we put on for the public. Ask my ma ... she’ll tell you what the real Tommy Malone’s like.”

Mary Teresa wasn’t part of a cloistered order, so although she was in the process of committing her life to serving God, in theory she still had lots of contact with the secular world. Having spent almost a year as a postulant, she was now in her first year as a novitiate. Her order, based in the convent in North West London, no longer wore the heavy habits and full wimples and veils; their dress was more practical and suited to the frequent interactions with the world outside the convent. Many of her order trained to be teachers and that was Mary Teresa’s probable destination, too.

It should be said, however, that although her clothes were simple and practical, without a nun’s veil or the application of cosmetic enhancements, she would still be considered an attractive girl in the secular world. She was twenty now and had received her calling quite late in life compared to some ... which might explain the length of her postulancy ... but once her vocation was confirmed, her path was seemingly set.

By way of comparison, Thomas ‘Tommy’ Malone picked up his first guitar when he was four ... or rather he sat on his father’s lap with the six-string acoustic perched on his, as he peered over the top. His dad wasn’t a bad guitarist, himself, he was born in the early-1960’s, when the Beatles and the Rolling Stones were coming to prominence, so it’s no great surprise what music Dermot Malone grew up listening to.

However, Dermot’s old six-string was history by the time that Tommy was twelve, but he was already a more technically proficient and inventive musician than his father had been. A few more years and a good Japanese copy of a Gibson, solid-bodied, electric sat in Tommy’s bedroom, and by sixteen he had his own band, which gigged around Hull playing very creditable covers of rock classics. This band was the nucleus of Handful of Darkness, named after the Philip K Dick short story, together with the addition of a second guitarist, who Tommy had known from another Hull band at the time.

The combination of the twin lead guitars had been the real catalyst, and by twenty-one Tommy and his bandmates were an established name in the rock world and they now toured extensively in Europe and North America, including Canada. Tommy, now nearly twenty-seven, had moved to London several years ago, as had the rest of the band, and they had reached the stage in their careers where they had outgrown most small venues and only needed to tour for six to eight months of the year, on average. The Heavy Rock music that they played had also now returned to being a sub-genre of popular music, quite distinct and not at all dependent upon what was flavour of the month in the sales charts.