'The one with pineapple?' Foster couldn't help but wrinkle his nose up. In his world, there was no room for fruit on a pizza. In the name of hospitality he let it slide and went to the hall to phone the order through. When he returned, Gary had flicked the television on and was staring at a football match.
'You've got the sports channels,' he said with a hint of excitement.
'Yeah. God knows why. Can't stand football these days.
Full of overpaid prima donnas falling over and wearing dresses. Used to be a contact sport. Who's your team?'
'Chelsea.'
'Thought an Essex boy like you would support the Hammers.'
His lip curled in disgust. 'Nah, they're shit.'
Foster shook his head. 'You see, there's something else that's changed. People supporting teams that are the best, not their local ones.'
Gary shrugged. 'Chelsea scouted me, so I like them best.'
'They scouted you? Really? When?'
When I was eight. I used to go along to the Gateway football club every Saturday morning. Leonie took me on the bus. They had loads of pitches and stuff. Scouts used to come and watch us play. One of them spoke to me and wanted to speak to my mum. He was from Chelsea. I went to a training session. But then Mum died and Leonie went and I didn't go for a bit. Then when they heard I was in trouble they lost interest. I still went to the Gateway and played, but I haven't been for a while.'
'Why not?'
Again the shrug. 'Too much hassle, innit? Been moved around too much.'
'Do you miss it?'
'Yeah,' he said with feeling. 'I love playing football. It's the only thing I'm good at.'
'What position do you play?'
'Didn't play many games, but when we did I played centre mid.'
Foster shook his head. If only this kid could be taken off the streets and on to a football pitch then he might spend less of his time robbing. 'You should keep at it.
You're obviously good. Be a shame to waste your talent.'
Gary said nothing. On screen, the commentator erupted with orgasmic delight at a piece of skill. They both turned to watch the replay. 'That was the lick,' Gary said, as in slow motion the striker drew his man towards him, performed a stepover and left the defender lunging at thin air.
'Impressive,' Foster had to agree. They sat and watched more of the game. It finished in a draw; the pizzas came.
Gary wolfed his down greedily once more. Foster went in search of his indigestion tablets. Two takeaways on the trot, coupled with the hamburger he and Barnes had eaten for lunch, were proving a bit much. He still poured another glass of wine. Back in the sitting room, Gary was hopping between channels, having finally taken his coat off.
Foster sat down and sipped his wine. Gary failed to find anything worth watching. He seemed to catch Foster looking at him.
'She contacted me,' he said simply.
'Leonie?'
Gary nodded.
'When was that?'
'About a year after she disappeared.'
A flicker of caution passed through his mind. Something wasn't right. 'You were in foster care?'
'Yeah.'
'How did she contact you?'
'A letter.'
'How did she know where to send it?
'She sent it to the Gateway football club. Probably knew it was the only place I could be found. The coach gave it me one Saturday morning.'
'What did it say?'
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a greying battered envelope, frayed at the edges. 'Be careful, it's falling apart,' he said.
Foster looked at the address. Gary Stamey, c/o Gateway Football Club, Barking, Essex. The stamp had long since peeled off. No postcode. He could only wonder how long it took to reach its destination. He could see the trace of a sticker in the lower bottom corner.
Was there a sticker on this? Air mail?'
'Don't know what it said, but there was a sticker,' he said. 'It fell off. Like the stamp.'
'Can you remember what the stamp was? Did it have the Queen's head on it?'
He shook his head. Wasn't the Queen. It was a picture of, like, some mountains and stuff. And a sunset?'
Didn't sound familiar to Foster.
He slid the contents out slowly. The letter had been folded and refolded so many times that along the crease it was beginning to disintegrate. It was marked by grubby fingers, presumably Gary's. Yet considering it was two years old it was still in reasonable condition.
He opened the paper up. The writing was immediately recognizable as that of a teenage girl; big looping letters and fat round blobs instead of dots above the 'i's.
Gary looked uncomfortable, embarrassed even. 'Can you read it to me?' he asked.
What, haven't you . . . ?' It took a while for him to realize. 'You can't read?'
Gary shook his head dolefully.
'You've never asked anyone to read it to you?' he asked, struggling to contain his disbelief.
'No. I knew it was a secret. I can read some of it. I knew it was from her because of the name and the writing.
I know a few of the words. But I've never been able to read it all.'
The kid had kept it on his person for two years. By the look of it, he'd taken it out of the envelope and looked at it many times. Yet he'd not been able to understand the message his sister had sent to him.
'OK.' He scanned it quickly. He would need to mentally correct much of the syntax to render it readable.
Dear Gary
I hope, this Letter get's to you OK and you are all right. I sent it to the football club because I know that's the one place you Love. I hope you still go there.
Just wanted you to know I am OK. Sorry I Left Like that but I had to. The time was right. I know you must be really angry with me for Leaving you but don't be. It is fine to be cross but I had to Leave. I am with good people. They Look after me. Bit boring sometimes but no drugs and everyone is happy, no one even drinks beer or nothing. I have Learned to do Lots of stuff Like sewing and we have animals Like cows and pigs and the countryside is beautiful to Look at. Much nicer than Essex. I don't miss home at all, just you.
Don't tell anyone about this Letter or else! The end days are on their way and we will be together again in the celestial kingdom as a famlly with our mum, too. God says so. Try and stay out of trouble even though that is impossible for you!
God Loves you and so do I, Leonie x
Foster looked up to see Gary's big brown eyes moistening.
He was desperately trying to fight back tears but losing the battle.
'Married,' Foster said. 'This was a year after she left? So she was only fifteen?'
Gary said nothing. Just looked down at his hands and sniffed copiously. Foster read through the letter once more, silently this time. It appeared that Leonie had not only got religion, but some extreme form. The people she had fallen in with were teetotal, it appeared, which made him think it was some kind of cult. And just exactly what were the 'end days'. He asked Gary, but the boy didn't know. Once again, he seemed small and alone.
'She's still alive, sunshine,' Foster said softly. 'And she said you'd be back together one day. Now that you've
