In the cafeteria, Martin paid for three cups of tea and brought them to the table by the window where Kevin and David had found a place. David didn’t know where Martin got his money from; he assumed Martin’s parents gave it to him. He always seemed to have plenty, but he never boasted about stealing it, as Kevin would have done.
He stirred sugar into his tea and watched his reflection in the glass. It was nearly dark outside already.
“What’s it about,
“Well it ain’t,” said Martin. “It’s a real snuff movie.”
“What’s one of them?”
Martin sighed. “Tell him, Dave,” he said.
David felt a glow of pride at being called Dave.
“It’s where they kill someone,” he said. “Ain’t it, Martin?”
Martin nodded and sipped the hot tea.
“What d’you mean?” said Kevin. “I seen plenty of them.”
“No you ain’t,” said Martin. “They stopped ’em years back. You can’t get ’em no more. ‘Cept if you know how.”
“I seen all sorts,” said Kevin. “I seen
“That ain’t a snuff movie. You’re a berk, you are. This is real. There’s someone really killed on this. You see it being done. You ain’t never seen that.”
David again felt his stomach lift. He hoped desperately that he wouldn’t be sick in front of Martin when the time came. Even thinking about it . . .
“There’s that kid again,” said Kevin.
He pointed to the brightly-lit doorway of an electricity board showroom opposite. Sandwich-makers, microwave ovens, cookers, heaters, freezers, and in the doorway gazing in, the thin huddled figure from the car. As they looked he wandered away from there and stared through the window of the supermarket next door.
Martin looked away.
“If you’re scared, you needn’t watch it,” he said.
“Course I ain’t scared,” said Kevin. “I seen
“This is different,” said Martin.
David looked out of the window again, but the other boy had gone.
Martin turned the key and opened the door. The house was full of darkness and the smell of chips and tobacco smoke. David felt the warmth on his cheeks. He’d never been to Martin’s house before, and he looked around curiously as Martin put the hall light on. There was a really smart carpet, and a mirror with all gold round it, and a TV phone. He felt reassured. It was so nice that you couldn’t imagine anything horrible happening there.
“You going to put it on then?” said Kevin. “Where’s the telly?”
“No hurry. I want something to eat first. Ain’t you hungry?”
“What you got to eat?”
“Dunno. Fish and chips’ll do. You better eat it now ’cause you won’t want to after, will he, Dave?”
“No,” said David. “Not after.”
“Here,” said Martin to David, handing him a ten-pound note. “Go round the chippy. Cod and chips three times, all right?”
“Ta, Martin,” said David, and added “Don’t start it without me.”
The chip shop was just around the corner. On his way back, with the soft hot bundles clutched to his chest, David suddenly stopped. The boy from the car was standing outside Martin’s front door.
“What do you want?” said David, before he could stop himself.
“You going to watch the video?” said the boy.
David could hardly hear what he said. He supposed the boy had got a cold, or asthma, like David’s sister.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Can I watch it?”
“I dunno. It ain’t mine, it’s my mate’s.”
The two boys stood still, not looking at each other.
“I’ll ask him,” said David finally, and rang the bell.
When Martin opened the door David said “I got ’em. Three cod and chips. And this kid was there outside the house. He says he wants to watch the video.”
Martin twisted his mouth. Kevin, behind him, said, “He’ll never take it. He’ll never take the pressure.”
“All right, let’s see if he does,” said Martin. “Let him in, then.”
The strange boy came in after David and stood in the living-room while they ate their fish and chips. David offered him some, but he just said, “No, I don’t want none.” After a minute or two he sat down. The others didn’t say anything, but ate quickly, and dropped their papers in the fireplace. David could smell the strange boy again. The room was hot, and he dropped his anorak on the thick red carpet, but the strange boy kept his on, and sat with his hands in his pockets, unmoving.
“All right then?” said Martin. “I’ll put it on.”
He fitted the cassette into the machine and sprawled back in a big leather armchair with the remote control. David and Kevin were sitting on the settee, and the other boy was on a dining chair by the table. Martin turned the TV on.
“Smart telly,” said Kevin.
It was a 48-inch. The big screen lifted itself out of the console and filled with colour.
“You seen a snuff picture before?” said Martin to the strange boy.
“Yeah. I seen this one.” They had to strain to hear him.
“This one?” It was plain that Martin didn’t believe him. “You know what happens?”
“Yeah. I seen it hundreds of times.”
“Hundreds? Get lost.”
“Here,” said Kevin. “Let’s watch it with the light out.”
“Stay there,” said Martin. “Watch this.”
He pressed a button on the remote control, and the big centre light above them faded into darkness. Now the only light came from the screen.
“Smart!” said Kevin.
They found themselves watching a suburban street from the windscreen of a moving car. It was a sunny day. There were lots of trees covered in leaves, and the houses looked nice and big, with lots of space between them.
Then the commentary began.
David looked at the strange boy. His eyes were wide and fixed intently on the screen, and his lips were moving unconsciously with the words. David felt queer. He knew now very strongly that he didn’t want to watch the film at all. He let his eyes go back to the screen, but tried to make them out of focus so that he couldn’t see clearly.
A few minutes passed. There was no more commentary from the film, but suddenly the strange boy said something.
“What?” said Martin.
“I says it’s a nice house, ain’t it?” said the boy.
Kevin, frowning concentratedly, took no notice. Martin grunted, but David looked at the boy again. Anything to get his eyes off the screen; but nothing had happened yet.
“Must be nice living there,” said the boy, still staring. But his expression was strange; David couldn’t understand it.
