Placing a hand on his shoulder, he gently rocked his father awake. “Dad. There’s some breakfast for you.” Bleary-eyed and with a deep frown, his father sat up. He’d secured some work on a neighbouring farm, just manual labouring. Old man Carlisle needed a barn cleared to make way for some new machinery he had arriving and couldn’t spare anyone else to do it. It was menial but it paid cash and they needed the money. There was only so long they could go on boxes of cereal and cold showers. The least he could do was to help his father keep the little work he managed to secure. Callum McCall coughed, then stretched his arms in the air and yawned. The man’s pores oozed the distinct aroma of alcohol. An empty bottle of cheap scotch or vodka lay on the floor alongside the sofa. He wondered how his father would get by without him. Maybe Sadie would step up. She hadn’t come home again last night and he couldn’t blame her. Dad may well have to get by on his own soon.
Skipping his own breakfast, he made a show of picking up his schoolbag and setting off. Having been up for most of the night, his appetite had deserted him. Agonising for several days over what he should do, he’d finally reached a decision the previous night. It was the right thing to do. Making the phone call, however, was hard. Not slipping out in the dead of night so as not to wake his father, that was easy. The man was hammered as usual. No, it was the uncertainty. He knew what he was looking to achieve but there was a lot at stake and if he’d pitched it wrong then he was in trouble. His father didn’t speak as he left the home.
At this rate, he would be early for school and not wanting to draw attention to himself, he slowed his pace. Upon reaching the gates he slipped into the throng of arrivals. The sixth-formers entered through a different door to the uniformed kids and he kept his distance from the others. Not that many of them spoke to him much of the time anyway, now they positively avoided him. He knew what they were thinking and undoubtedly saying, and it was never going to stop. Even if an arrest was made and successfully prosecuted there would be those who still didn’t believe. They never would. Unless it was him, a McCall. Well, if they wanted a genuine reason to fear him, then they would get one soon enough.
Morning registration passed without incident. Not a word was said regarding his lack of attendance the previous day when he came in, the first since Holly’s murder. A couple of the teachers even asked how he was. Today was normal. Much like any other. The notices were read out, something about grief counselling aimed in his general direction, or at least he thought so, but he wasn’t really listening. The clock was ticking by slowly. When the bell went to indicate morning classes, the scrape of chair legs across the floor and instant break-out of multiple conversations masked evidence of his growing anticipation and anxiety. He felt himself flush, sweating profusely. No one seemed to notice.
Joining the massed ranks queueing to get out of the classroom, he lingered at the rear. Once out into the corridor he ambled to the stairwell, the last person to enter. As students peeled away towards their various classes, he continued on to the ground floor, passing out of the fire exit into the overcast morning. It was still cold as it had been on the walk in, but the sun was threatening to break through. Glancing around, no one was in sight. He’d left via the eastern exit, the one unfavoured by anyone because there was no route out of the school without walking around the building. Unless you were going over the fence as he was. Confident he was unseen, he tossed his bag over and then followed. It wasn’t particularly challenging, being barely above waist height and he made it with ease.
The walk home usually took half an hour but he could cut that by a third if he upped his pace. His father should be away to work by now and Sadie would reappear when she ran out of money or her latest turfed her out, whichever came first. His route took him along one of the main roads and a few cars passed by him but no one paid him any attention. Once back home, he approached with caution just on the off chance his father decided to go back to sleep rather than put in a shift. Everything was quiet when he opened the door, peering in and listening for signs of movement. There were none.
The door swung closed behind him, banging against the jamb. The latch didn’t take as the frame was warped and ill fitting. They never locked it anyway. What was the point? They had nothing worth stealing. Heading straight to his father’s bedroom, not that he slept there much preferring the sofa or bunking in with Sadie, he crossed over to the wardrobe. Moving aside a stack of magazines and an old carrier bag containing some random cables, he reached to the rear and found what he was looking for, an old canvas duffle bag. The dust disturbed by him taking it down brought tears to his eyes. From the weight of the bag, he knew what he was looking for was still there.
The bag was two-foot-long, with a double handle and a shoulder strap. Placing it down at the foot of the bed and unzipping it, he eyed the contents. Looking over his shoulder, he feared discovery as if everyone knew what he was planning. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. Returning to the wardrobe, he rooted around towards the back and found a small cardboard
