What Came Before He Shot Her

where there’d be a display of snacks.

Bearing all this in mind and trying to think of nothing else— certainly nothing sinister—Joel turned right at the first street he came to. A line of terrace houses stood in a rank along it, all of them identical London brick. All along the way, cars were parked nose to tail at the kerb, and the occasional bicycle was chained to a railing or a street lamp, frequently with one of its tyres removed. Midway down the street, the road curved to the left, and it was at this spot that Joel saw someone alighting from a van. It was a man dressed in a navy blue boiler suit and likely returning home from work, but instead of proceeding into one of the nearby houses, he stood looking beyond the curve of the street to a point which Joel himself could not see. He shouted something and then dug in his pocket to bring out a mobile phone, into which he punched a few numbers. He waited, spoke, and then shouted down the street again.

            Joel watched all this as he hurriedly advanced. By the time he reached the van, the man had gone inside one of the houses. What he’d been shouting at remained outside, however. Joel took it in and knew what he was looking at: Some ten or twelve houses farther along, a group of boys circled like a pack of hounds around a figure who was huddled on the pavement, quite small against the wall of a property, like a hedgehog protecting its vital parts.

Joel took off running and shouted as he ran, “Fuck you, Wyatt!

            Leave him alone!”

            But Neal Wyatt had no intention of leaving Toby alone, intent as he was upon keeping several promises. This time he had his full crew of henchmen to lend a hand in the proceedings and, by the time Joel reached them, Neal had already done his worst: Toby was weeping, he’d wet himself, and his treasured lava lamp lay stamped to bits on the pavement, all plastic and glass and liquid, with its flex lying like a splattered snake among the debris.

            Joel’s vision went red, then black, then clear. He chose the most foolhardy of the alternatives open to him, and he threw himself at Neal Wyatt. But he got no further than a single blow, which barely connected anyway, when one of Neal’s crew grabbed him by the arms and another drove a fist into his stomach. Neal himself shouted,

            “Fucker’s mine, ” and everything happened quickly after that. Joel felt a rain of blows. He tasted blood as his lip split open. The breath left him with an oof  as he sank to the pavement. There, heavy boots and trainers connected with his ribs.

            Finally, someone shouted, “Shit! Clear it!” and the boys began to run in every direction. Neal was the last to leave. He took a moment to bend to Joel, twist his hand in Joel’s hair, and say into his face with the rank breath of someone whose teeth are going bad, “It’ll be his arm next time, wanker.” Then he, too, was gone. What replaced him was what the boys had apparently seen cruising down from the Harrow Road.

            The panda car pulled to a stop and a constable got out while his partner remained in the running vehicle. From where he lay on the pavement, Joel watched the policeman’s polished shoes approaching. Trouble here? he wanted to know. S’going on? Live round here?

            Hurt? Cut? Shot? What?

            The radio in the car squawked. Joel looked up from the polished shoes upon which he’d continued to gaze, and he saw the blank face watching him, a white man whose lips twisted in a movement of distaste as his opaque blue eyes moved from Joel to Toby and took in the urine that had spread in a widening stain on the child’s trousers. Toby’s eyes were squeezed shut so tightly that his face was nothing more than a mass of creases.

            Joel reached for his brother. He said, “S’okay, mon. Le’s go home. You okay, Tobe? Here. Look. They’re gone. Cops’s shown up. You okay, Tobe?”

            The driver of the panda car barked out, “Bernard, what’s the brief?

            Anyone hurt?”

            Bernard said that it was business as usual and what the hell else did they expect since this lot were going to kill each other eventually and sooner was better than later.

            “D’they want a ride? Get ’em in the car. We c’n take ’em home.”

            Hell no, Bernard told him. One of them’s pissed his panties and no way was that smell going to foul up their  car.

The driver cursed. He stamped so hard on the parking brake of the vehicle that the sound was like chains dragging on concrete. He got out of the car and joined Bernard on the pavement, where he looked down on Joel and Toby. Joel had, by this time, got himself into a kneeling position and was trying to ease Toby out of his protective curl. The driver said, “Get the hell into the car,” and it took a moment before Joel realised that he was talking not to him and his brother but to his partner. Bernard responded with, “See for yourself, you love it so much,” as he complied.

            The driver then squatted next to Joel. He said, “Let me see your face, lad. Want to tell me who did this?”

            Both of them knew what naming and shaming meant in a boy’s life, so both of them knew Joel would not point a finger at anyone. He said, “Don’t know. I jus’ found ’em ’rassin my brother.”

            The constable said to Toby, “D’you know who they were?”

            But Joel knew they would get nothing from Toby. His brother was as good as done for on this day. Joel just needed to get him home. He said, “We’re okay. Tobe doesn’t know ’em, either. Just some bloods not likin the look of us, is all.”

            “Let’s get him into the car, then. We’ll take you home.”

            This was the last thing Joel wanted: drawing attention to themselves by arriving in Edenham Way in a panda car. He said, “We’ll be okay now. We just got to walk over to Elkstone Road.” He got to his feet and hauled Toby to his.

            Toby’s head flopped forward to his chest like a rag doll’s. “They broke it,” he cried. “They grabbed it and it fell and they stamped it up and down.”

            “What’s he on about, then?” the constable asked.

            “Jus’ something he was carrying home.” Joel indicated the remains of the lava lamp. He said to Toby, “S’okay, bred. We’ll get ’nother,” although the truth of the matter was that Joel had no idea how, where, or when he’d ever be able to get another sixteen pounds to replace what his little brother had lost. He kicked the remains of the lava lamp to the kerb and deposited them in the gutter.

            Inside the panda car, the radio squawked another time. Bernard spoke into it and then to his partner, “Hugh, we’re wanted.”

            Hugh said to Joel, “You set off home, if you don’t want a ride. Here, use this on your mouth as you go.” He handed over his handkerchief, which he pressed onto Joel’s lip until Joel himself held it properly. He said, “Go on, lad. We’ll keep you in sight to the end of the street,” and he returned to the car and climbed inside.

            Joel took Toby by the hand and began to pull him in the direction of Great Western Road, which was where the street they were walking along terminated. As good as his word, Hugh kept the panda car crawling along just behind them, leaving them only when they came to the corner and headed towards the bridge over the Grand Union Canal. Then they were on their own once more, descending the steps and crossing Meanwhile Gardens.

            Joel urged Toby along as fast as he could, which wasn’t as fast as he would have liked. Toby babbled about the destruction of his lava lamp, but Joel had far greater worries to keep him occupied. He knew that Neal Wyatt would bide his time until he got the chance to make good his threat. He meant to go after Toby, and he wouldn’t rest until he dealt with Joel by dealing with Joel’s little brother.

IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE for Joel to pretend that he’d taken a fall riding a skateboard this time. Even if his aunt had not known he’d been looking for Toby, even if consequently she might  have been led into believing both of the boys had been in Meanwhile Gardens all along, the condition of Joel’s face and the bruises across his body did not suggest a simple tumble. While Joel managed to get Toby cleaned up prior to Kendra’s arrival home from the charity shop, he couldn’t do much about himself. He washed off the blood, but the cuts on his face were still there, and his right eye was swelling and would soon go black. Then there was the matter of the lava lamp, about which Toby was inconsolable, so when Kendra walked in, it was only moments before she learned the truth.

            She whisked both boys to Casualty. Toby didn’t need attending to, but she insisted that he be looked over as well although Joel was her real concern. She was furious that this had happened to her nephews and