block, tasted good, and with a stale half loaf of bread from a refuse bin in the yard, his hunger was assuaged for the moment.
He raked out the smoldering embers, damped them down with an old wet sack, and curled up in the sleeping bag he’d been given at the night shelter. It was not new, but still clean and warm, and after reviewing what had been a satisfactory first day in his new job, he told himself Paula would soon come round to getting back together. In no time at all, he was fast asleep.
TWENTY-NINE
OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL GATES, JACK JR. GLANCED NERVOUSLY from right to left, then walked along towards the town centre. He had stayed after school to hunt for a lost football shoe, but he’d not found it and missed the bus home. Now he had to decide whether to phone his mother, who would be furious on both counts. She would insist on coming to collect him, with the kids packed into her old car, whatever he said about getting a lift. Or he could try finding his friend Lenny’s house and fix up a bed for the night, then ring her and lie, saying he’d been invited. He found lying easy now, since his father had gone. So many times there had been muddles and misunderstandings between him and his mother, and he had finally decided that he’d tell her just what she wanted to hear, and leave it at that.
He trudged along, head down, and did not see the man approach, waiting for him on the corner.
“Where are you off to, then, young Jack?”
Jack stopped abruptly, staring at the man. He had not heard or seen him for several days and had been relieved, thinking he had finally given up. “Mind your own business,” he said.
“Now, now, no need to be rude,” the man said. “Specially as I’ve brought you some nice sweeties. Your favourites. Velly cheap, velly nice, as the Chinaman said. How many would you like?”
“Go away!” Jack said, his voice rising in fear. “If you don’t leave me alone, I shall get Mum to go to the police. Go away!” He was now close to screaming, and the man glared at him. “Shut yer face, kid,” he said. “Your ma would never go to the police, not after what your precious father done!”
Jack dodged around him and ran full pelt along a side street, not stopping until he thought the man was no longer following him. But when he stopped for breath, he looked back and saw him rounding the corner and waving his hand. Jack looked desperately along the street and saw a signboard saying “New Brooms-We Sweep Cleaner.” He opened the door and dashed in, saying, “Can I use your toilet? Got took short.”
Hazel Thornbull looked at him in surprise. “Yes, you can,” she said. “And don’t nick anything.” This last was an afterthought. Sebastopol Street was in a poorer part of Tresham, and they’d already been broken into once. A computer stolen, and the place trashed. But this was a lad on his own, and he seemed genuine enough. In fact, he looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. She decided to have a talk with him before he left.
Just then the door opened again, and a man came in, smiling broadly. “Afternoon, miss,” he said. “I suppose you haven’t seen a boy running by? I thought I saw him dodge in here, actually. My son, the little devil, knows he’s in for a good talking-to for not doing his homework. I’ve just been seeing his teacher.”
Hazel thought rapidly before she shook her head. There was something unpleasant about the man. Too smooth, too ready with a plausible explanation. “No, nobody’s been in here since lunchtime. Sorry. Good afternoon.”
At this moment, she saw a reflection in the window of Jack Jr. coming out of the toilet in the back office. She stood up quickly and placed herself in the doorway, so that he could not be seen. Then she said loudly so that Jack would hear, that she hadn’t had any boys in her office, and she was about to lock up, so would he please leave.
When he had gone, she drew the blind and locked the door. Then she turned to Jack Jr. and asked him what on earth he was playing at. “You live in Farnden, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “My mum works for New Brooms, an’ I thought you wouldn’t mind if I used your toilet.”
“You’re lying, aren’t you, Jack,” Hazel said. “That man was after you. What had you done?”
“Nothing. I done nothing,” he said. “He’s been following me, trying to sell me drugs. I was scared. I am still scared.”
Hazel frowned and looked closely at his face. Was he still lying? He had a real shifty look about him. She knew his father had deserted the family. Mrs. M had given the bare facts to the team before Paula joined, so that they wouldn’t ask tactless questions. A kid his age needs a father, she thought.
“So why aren’t you on the bus on the way home?”
Jack hesitated. He knew this woman was a farmer’s wife, and seemed straight enough. He decided to treat her like his mum, and tell her what he thought she’d like to hear. Then he could ask for a lift home. It would be the answer to his problem.
“You ought to tell your mother about that dealer,” she said. “The police could stop him with no trouble. They’re usually pretty hot about men who loiter round school gates. Why don’t you tell her?”
“I have. She said she’d do something about it, but so far she’s been too busy. Scrubbing other people’s floors.”
Hazel ignored this. For one thing, she knew Paula scrubbed the step at the hall, but this was her own idea, because she liked doing it. But she supposed it would count in Jack’s eyes.
On the way back to Farnden, Jack answered Hazel’s questions in monosyllables and grunts. It was all round the village that the boy was difficult and in trouble at school, and she was curious to know if he had anything to say in his own defence. After all, she had her lovely daughter who was no trouble at all, but expected things to change when the teenage blues hit them all.
“Do you see your father at all?” she said cheerfully.
Jack rounded on her. “Mind your own business!” he said. “I’m sick of people asking about my rotten father. He left Mum in the lurch, and I say good riddance to bad rubbish! We don’t want him back. We can get on all right by ourselves. I help Mum all I can, and the others do, too, except for the little one. I just wish people would leave us alone. Fathers are not that great, anyway…” He trailed off.
“Oh, I dunno,” said Hazel. “Mine certainly wasn’t, but some people are lucky. Look at Mrs. M’s husband, Derek. He’s a lovely man, and his kids can’t speak too highly of him. Have you met him?”
Jack shook his head. “Wouldn’t know him if I saw him,” he said. “But your Mrs. M seems all right. I suppose if you got a nice husband it makes a difference all round.”
Hazel glanced sideways at him. He sounded near to tears, and she was glad they were approaching the village. Paula might not be too pleased if she delivered her son back home looking as if she’d beaten him up.
“Here we are, then,” she said. “Might see you around. Do you go to Youth Club in the village hall? Meets every week, and they do some interesting things. I’ll give your mum the details. It’s tonight. They’re building a soap box and need as many willing hands as possible.”
He scuffed his way down the garden path, and as he turned to go round to the back of the house, he looked back and raised two fingers to her. This gave her a jolt, and she reflected that it was a salutary lesson. It was going to take more than a sympathetic ride home to sort out Jack Jr.’s problems.
FLOSS WAS WALKING HOME FROM THE SHOP, AND SAW HAZEL’S car stop outside the Hickson house. She watched Jack Jr. get out and disappear, and then she crossed the road to have a word with Hazel. The two were good friends, though Floss was younger, and they were both loyal members of the New Brooms team. Hazel had not expected Floss to last long, but she repeatedly said she loved the work and refused to move, in spite of pressure put on her by her parents. But they’d given up now that she was married, and dropped hints about the patter of tiny feet instead.
She greeted Hazel and asked if her John would be at Youth Club tonight, adding that the lads needed a strong leader like John Thornbull to keep them in order.
“Yes, he’ll be there,” Hazel said. “If you’re going, can you remind him to look out for young Jack Hickson? I gave him a lift home, and he showed no interest at all when I told him about building the soap box. I thought he might make a friend or two. He seems such a lonely, mixed-up kid. But sometimes his sort do the opposite of what you
