dead.'
Well, Andrew thought, that wasn't quite true. Wally, who was seventeen and in trouble with local thugs all the time, was beaten with a bat until he had terrible brain damage and his folks let the hospital take him off life support, then he died. And Gwen was raped by her stepbrother and went crazy. She was in some asylum or hospital somewhere. Still, he knew what his mum meant. She'd stopped to talk with a stranger once and the next tiling she knew after three weeks of romance, bingo, bango, no more stranger. Andrew was the result of that fiasco.
'I know. I know. I gave a good frown and came right in.' He sniffed at the air. 'I must have smelled them scones anyway, cause nothing ever stops me from coming in when you're baking.'
His aunt grinned. 'Well, then, let's have one, and I'll make you a cup of cocoa. It's getting cold outside.'
Andrew followed her down the narrow stairs to the tiny kitchen. He sat down to wait. Aunt Molly had her set ways of doing things, and there would be no impatient grabbing or rushing her. She busied herself with canisters, spoons and a pan of milk.
'Tell me what you did today.'
'Maths. We worked on problems. Lucky for me they're really easy.'
'They are; well then, give me one and see if I can do it. It's been thirty years since I did any maths, but I'm still pretty smart for an old lady.'
'You're not old, Auntie. Mum is older than you and she's still young. She says so all the time.' His mouth watered at the smell of the cocoa stirred in the hot milk. His aunt set the cup before him, then went to the counter for a scone. He watched as she broke open the dusty cream-coloured mass and steam rolled out into the warm kitchen.
'Give me a problem, then, Andy. See if I can do it.' She sat across from him, eager for his usual reaction to her scones.
A bit annoyed at having to speak when he wanted to eat, he licked his lips and stared at his scone. 'All right, Auntie. If a train travels at 50 mph, and it took the train four hours and ten minutes to get from London to Newcastle, what is the distance from London to Newcastle?'
'Oh, my, that is a tough one. Let me think' She scratched her head and wrinkled her mouth in concentration. 'Do you know the answer?'
Andrew nodded. 'Do you?' He bit into the scone. It was almost too good. He swooned.
'Well, 218 miles give or take few miles. Yes?'
'It's got a decimal figure in it, but you're close. That's really good, Auntie.'
They heard a key in the lock. 'That'll be your mum. We should ask her to solve one of your problems.'
Andrew's mother came in with her arms full of groceries. 'Come help.'
'Mum, my scone's getting cold.'
His aunt put her hands on his shoulders. 'You stay here, Andy, I'll get them.'
He grinned up at his aunt then took a sip of the cocoa. She always made it a bit too rich, just the way he liked it.
While his mum and aunt put away groceries, Andrew thought about the pretty boy and old man he'd seen. He wondered why the man had spoken to him, why the boy seemed so sad. Why would he want to know if Andrew lived nearby? What could he have wanted?
'There was just an accident at the triangle. I heard in Safeway. Young boy crossing with his granddad got hit by a lorry.'
Andrew spun around in his chair. 'Just now?'
'Just a few minutes ago. Didn't you hear the siren? I was going to go have a look, but I have frozen puddings in my bags. What, you think you know who it might have been?'
'May I go look? Please? I might know him. I might.'
His mother looked to his aunt and back to him. His aunt was the lenient one, over-feeding and over-loving him, while his mother was bitter and restrictive. His aunt gave his mum a pleading look. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn't.
'Finish the scone and cocoa, then you and your Aunt Molly can go take a look while I start supper.'
'Me? You want me to go with him. Bernadette, I look like I've been in all day cleaning, which I have. Can't he go on his own?'
'It's almost dark.'
'Please, Mum, I just want to take a look. I won't stay. Really, I promise.'
'You'll wear a coat?'
'Yeah, yeah, I will. Promise.'
'Go, then, but don't dawdle.'
Andrew grabbed the unfinished scone and ran upstairs to get a jacket. He knew it was the pretty boy. Just knew. It could be any one of the boys he knew, but there was more of a reason for a stranger to be hit. The triangle confused tourists. They often got caught out in the traffic. He hoped that the boy wasn't hurt too badly.
He shouted goodbye to his mum and aunt as he raced out the front door. He ran down Green Street to Bridge Street until he reached the triangle. There were two police cars and a casualty van. The crowd was large and traffic backed up Bridge Street as far as he could see in both directions. Frank Delaney rushed over when he saw Andrew at the edge of the crowd.
'Did you see it happen?' Frank shivered in just a football jersey.
