West nodded and, with great reluctance, Drummond slackened his grip on the boy and let him disengage his face from the rough wooden planking. There were spots of blood on Jav’s cheek where splinters had gouged their way in. He sidled stiffly out of Drummond’s reach, rubbing at his over-stretched shoulder and eyeing all of us with wary distrust.
“Well, sonny? I suppose you’re going to back her up on this cock-and-bull story. Is that how it happened?” West’s voice dripped with raw contempt.
Jav carried on staring at me for a moment longer, then peeled his gaze away, dismissive, as though I wasn’t worth the effort. “Of course not,” he said arrogantly.
My breath stopped.
West flashed me a savage look, then turned back to him. “Go on,” he said grimly.
“Of course that wasn’t how it happened,” the boy went on, growing in confidence. “
He’d gone too far. West’s head ducked and his expression soured. He reached out and grabbed Jav by the back of his neck, digging his stubby fingers into the skin until his knuckles turned white as he dragged the boy up close. “Don’t piss me about, sonny,” he growled.
Jav swallowed, the fright jumping again in his eyes, but his nerve held. “It’s the truth,” he protested.
West’s eyes narrowed as he thrust the boy away from him. He searched our faces for the first sign of a crack. We both kept them deadpan.
“All right,” he said at last to Jav, scepticism clear. He jerked his head. “Get out of here. Go on!” he added, when the boy didn’t move. He took a quick menacing stride towards him. It was enough.
Jav ran.
When he’d disappeared, West turned back to me. “I suppose you realise that I don’t believe a single word of that shit you’ve been shovelling,”
I shrugged. “You’re the expert,” I said, offhand. “That’s your prerogative.”
He ignored the dig, such as it was. “So, what really went down back there?” he challenged. “Don’t tell me – they tried to jump you, right?”
“We were practising self defence,” I said, stubborn, setting my teeth.
He let out his breath in a long hiss. “You people make me sick,” he muttered. “You let these young thugs walk all over you and you don’t have the bottle to stand up for yourself just one time, do you?” He shook his head disbelievingly. “You just have to say the word, and we’ll take care of the problem for you. That’s why we’re here.”
“Are you really, though?” I murmured. “So, who said the word when these two beat Roger Meyer half to death, hmm?”
“We didn’t need anyone to say the word over Meyer,” West bit out. “He was caught, red-handed, remember?”
“That still doesn’t justify what you did to him.” I cast a glance at Harlow and Drummond. They returned it with every appearance of a clean conscience.
“He half-kills an old man, and now you’re feeling
“No, I don’t feel sorry for him, but I don’t believe Roger was directly responsible, and I think there’s a lot more going on there than we realise.” I tried throwing that one into the mix, and was surprised by the end result.
“You mean with the Gadatra kid?” West chucked back at me straight away. He stepped in, grinning that nasty little grin of his again. “Could well be, but
How had the news of that one travelled so fast? I could feel my face stiffening with surprise, and fought to keep my expression even.
They made to leave, with West unable to resist a final jibe. “I thought you had a bit more about you, but looks like I was wrong,” he told me scornfully. “If you ever dig down deep enough to find the courage to point the finger at these scum, we’ll be right in there, taking care of them for you, and cheap at the price.”
He looked me up and down, slow and insulting, and his lip curled. “Yeah, and there’ll be snowballs in hell.”
Fourteen
I don’t remember getting back to Pauline’s. My legs were on autopilot. It wasn’t until I caught the faintest rustle in the hedge by the front door that I clicked out of it and lurched round, fast.
“Come out of there,” I snapped, “or I’ll drag you out.”
After a few moments the foliage parted to reveal a tearful Aqueel in the hollowed-out section at the bottom that seemed to be one of his favourite hiding places. He faced me with his bottom lip out defiantly, even if it wobbled.
My shoulders slumped. So that was what I was down to – frightening little kids and letting the real bullies get away.
“I’m sorry, Aqueel,” I said wearily. “I didn’t know it was you, and you made me jump.”
Aqueel raised a tremulous smile that didn’t even have enough wattage to light up the rest of his face. His eyes looked bruised, sunken into dark-smudged sockets and red-rimmed from weeping. He must have been crying non-stop ever since MacMillan’s fateful visit. Was it only this morning? It seemed like weeks ago.
“Hello, Charlie,” he greeted me, his voice lifeless and wooden as a bit-part actor in a daytime soap. “And how are you today?”
“I’m fine, Aqueel,” I said carefully. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m very well, thank you,” he returned formally. He must have seen the sympathy in my face, maybe even pity, because he climbed jerkily to his feet. “Please excuse me, but I must go and look after my mother, and my sister.”
With that he turned, stiff-backed, and stumbled back towards the front door, suddenly the man of the house at eight years old and doing his best to take it on the chin. My heart went out to him.
Inside Pauline’s, Friday registered his usual delight at my reappearance. Eventually I bribed him into calm good behaviour with half a dry biscuit. His lanky tail wagged so frenetically at the prospect of even such a motley present that it made the whole of his hard-packed body wriggle.
God, isn’t life simple when you’re a dog? Cats and street thugs, bad. Trees and biscuits, good. And you know just who your friends are. Sometimes I envied him.
***
I was halfway through making a snack for lunch when the phone rang. I picked it up warily, in case it was Sean, even though I wasn’t sure if he had Pauline’s number.
“Hello, Charlotte,” said my mother’s voice, characterised by its usual brittle brightness.
“Oh, hi,” I said, relief injecting more warmth into my voice than she was used to.
“Erm, well,” she said, sounding pleased. “Erm, yes, I was just getting back to you about your young burglar, darling,” she went on. “I’ve been talking to some of my colleagues about it.”
“Oh yes,” I said, with a pang of guilt. “Actually, I think things have moved on a bit since we last spoke.”
“In what way?” she said, still pleasant, just curious.
“Well, it turns out that Roger is Sean Meyer’s younger brother,” I explained. “You remember Sean, I assume?”
The silence went on for so long I thought the line had gone dead.
“Mother? Are you still there?”
“Yes, yes I’m still here,” she said faintly. There was a pause, then she went on more strongly, in a rush, “Oh Charlotte, you’re not thinking of getting involved with him again are you?” Her tone was starting to rise. “You can’t, darling. You mustn’t!”
She didn’t quite say, “I forbid it!”, but it was there, all the same.
