Breakers

by Doug Johnstone

  ‘What the fuck?’

  A woman’s voice, high pitched but rough, not what you’d expect in this neighbourhood.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

  He came down a few more steps, could see her trainers as she stood in the living room doorway. They were pink and sky blue, expensive Skechers. Her leggings were dark blue, tight, hugging her slim legs. She walked into the living room and Tyler lost sight of her feet.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Barry said.

  Tyler took some more steps, hesitated.

  ‘Don’t threaten me,’ the woman said. ‘This is my home. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.’

  ‘Put your phone down,’ Barry said.

  Tyler took two more steps.

  ‘If you have any sense,’ the woman said, ‘you’ll get out of my house immediately. And leave my fucking stuff. How dare you?’

  ‘Put the phone down,’ Barry said. ‘I won’t say it again.’

  Tyler recognised something in his voice and felt his skin prickle. His stomach was a rock weighing him down. He took another step and could see into the living room. With the main light on it all seemed too bright. The woman stood just inside the door, phone in her hand. Barry was taking slow steps towards her, glancing at Tyler over the woman’s shoulder. Kelly was off to the side, still as a statue.

  Tyler took another step and the Xbox in the duvet cover clunked on the stair behind him.

  The woman turned and stared at Tyler, the phone pressed to her ear.

  She was wearing a dark Adidas tracksuit top zipped up, jet-black hair tied in a high ponytail like she’d come from the gym. She was midforties maybe, lean and fit, high cheekbones, fire in her eyes.

  As she looked at Tyler, Barry rushed her. Tyler’s eyes widened as he saw his brother move, and the woman began to turn back, following his gaze, when Barry rammed into her, his hands low at her waist. She stumbled into the doorway, shoulder bouncing off the frame, mouth open but no sound coming out. She dropped her phone and car key, threw a confused look at Tyler then put a hand to her back. She brought it to her face and it was dark with blood. She reached for the door jamb but missed and collapsed into the hall, her head thudding on the floorboards like a basketball.

  Behind her, Barry stood with a long kitchen knife in his hand, the first few inches soaked in blood. Kelly stared at Barry, the knife, the woman on the floor.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Barry said. He dropped the knife, the clatter of it ringing in the house. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  He turned and picked up a canvas bag full of stuff and stepped around the woman. Tyler could see her face. She was breathing, staring at the skirting board.

  Barry picked up the car key the woman had dropped and threw it to Kelly.

  ‘You take it,’ he said. ‘Usual place.’

  He sauntered to the front door like he hadn’t just stabbed someone.

  ‘Come on,’ he said to Tyler. ‘And don’t forget your stuff.’

  Tyler picked up the pillowcase and duvet cover and came down the rest of the stairs. Barry was already outside, Kelly behind him, staring at the Audi logo on the car key in her hand.

  Tyler stopped at the doorway and looked back.

  The woman hadn’t moved, was still lying with her torso in the hall and her legs in the living room. He could see the wet patch at the small of her back, the ragged tear where the knife had slipped through the Lycra. She was trying to speak but nothing came out. Her eyes darted to Tyler’s face, then, with a muscle pulse at her temple, back to the floor. The fingers on her right hand began to twitch, like she was trying to indicate something, then the hand fell.

  Tyler picked up her phone from where she’d dropped it and left the house, switching the light off and closing the door behind him.

  5

  Tyler was in the front seat, Barry tailing Kelly in the Audi up ahead, both of them at thirty, slowing for speed bumps and stopping for lights. Tyler wanted to scream. He felt the woman staring at him from the floor, eyes empty. While Barry drove, Tyler got out the woman’s phone. It wasn’t locked. He went to settings, disabled the geolocation function, then switched it off. They were at Cameron Toll, so that would be the last traceable location until it went on again. They headed out to Craigmillar, went past the turn-off for Niddrie, they were heading to Wee Sam’s in Pinkie round the back of Musselburgh.

  ‘That’s a beauty,’ Barry said, nodding at the car in front. ‘That’ll get us a fair few quid.’

  ‘Fucking hell, Barry.’

  Barry’s hands tightened on the wheel. His teeth were clenched and he swallowed hard. He drove in silence until they stopped at a red light at the Fort. He put the car out of gear, pulled on the handbrake and grabbed Tyler by the throat, thrusting him back against the seatbelt support and choking him. Tyler scrabbled at Barry’s hand with his fingers, tried to prise his neck free, but couldn’t get any purchase. His windpipe was blocked and he wheezed, tried to suck in air.

  ‘Nothing happened back at the house,’ Barry said softly. ‘Do you understand?’

  Tyler tried to speak but just spluttered.

  Barry leaned across the space between them, still gripping Tyler’s throat. ‘Do you?’

  Tyler was dizzy, sparks flashing in the corners of his vision. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. His nose made a noise, a gag reflex in his throat. He nodded as much as he could with Barry’s fingers digging under the joint of his jaw.

  A car horn sounded behind them. Barry loosened his grip but still held on. Tyler sucked in air. Barry turned to look behind them. A guy in a Toyota was pointing past them at the lights, which had turned green. Kelly was already away through the junction.

  Barry stared at the man in the car behind for a long beat, then let go of Tyler’s neck. Tyler gasped and brought his hands up, touching the skin there, as Barry put the car in gear and drove off. He held a hand up to the guy behind, a gesture of apology, and accelerated to catch up with Kelly. He stared in the rear-view mirror at the car behind.

  ‘Fucking cunt,’ he said under his breath.

  Tyler blinked long and slow, tried to get rid of the spots dancing across his eyes. He stared ahead at the Audi’s number plate, MH 100. A private plate on a top-of-the-range Audi, the posh house, the woman on the floor. A drawer full of iPhones and designer watches, a sawn-off shotgun under the bed. None of this was good.

  The Skoda sat outside a row of low concrete garages, doors closed but light seeping out from under the corrugated iron. Faded blue-and-red lettering across the doors that Tyler couldn’t read. There were no streetlights, and Tyler noticed the moon for the first time tonight, blurry behind strips of cloud. The smell of engine oil lingered in the air. Kelly stepped out from one of the doors, grinning as she walked. Barry turned to Tyler.

  ‘Shift.’

  Tyler got out of the passenger seat and climbed into the back as Kelly sat in the seat in front.

  ‘Fifteen hundred,’ she said, waving a roll of twenties.

  Barry smiled. ‘Fucking A.’

  They circled back through Musselburgh and Fisherrow then west past Newcraighall. Tyler looked at the clock on the dashboard. Thirty-five minutes since they left the house in St Margaret’s Road. He pictured the look on her face, the darkness of the blood, much darker than he expected, darker than fake Halloween stuff. He imagined this was an elaborate scam, Barry and Kelly setting him up, ready to turn round any minute and shout ‘gotcha!’, reveal the hidden cameras. You thought we killed someone but it was all a joke, she was in on the whole thing.

  How else to explain their behaviour in front? Kelly was chopping out lines on her knee, Barry humming along to some blues guy on the radio singing about going to church. As if anyone did that anymore. Kelly looked up from the coke and smiled at Barry, reached out and stroked the back of his neck.

  Tyler looked out of the window. Past the Wisp turnoff and the Jack Kane Centre then they were on home turf, turning along Greendykes Road. They pulled up outside Greendykes Ho
use and Tyler thought of Bean at the top, asleep and dreaming.

  They sat in the shadow of the tower, engine idling.

  ‘We’re heading out,’ Barry said. That meant the casino on Ocean Way in Leith, where they could drink until six in the morning and piss as much of the money away as possible.

  Barry nodded at the stolen stuff next to Tyler on the backseat. ‘Did you get any cash?’

  Tyler remembered the money clip. He delved into the pillowcase and handed it over, thinking about the notes he’d hidden in his pants.

  Barry looked at the clip and whistled. ‘Cunt was loaded, eh?’

  Tyler shrugged.

  ‘Take the rest upstairs,’ Barry said. ‘We’ll sort it tomorrow and get it over to Fluff.’

  Tyler sat there for a moment.

  ‘Chop-chop, prick, off you trot.’

  Tyler got out and dragged the bags with him.

  Barry called after him. ‘Sleep tight, bitch.’

  Tyler closed the door and watched as Barry revved the engine and shot away with a squeal of tyres.

  He looked up at Greendykes House, dizzy at the height of it so close. He imagined being able to fly to the top, soaring on thermals and swooping onto the roof.

  He took the woman’s phone out of his pocket. With geolocation off, the phone was only traceable when it was on, Tyler knew all about it from the phones they boosted on jobs.

  He stashed the stolen gear behind the bins and began walking away from the tower block, through the park at the back and across the football pitches for ten minutes until he was at the back of the ice-cream factory at The Wisp. There was no CCTV. He switched the phone on and dialled 999.

  ‘Ambulance, please.’

  He waited. Wondered if it was too late.

  ‘Yes, there’s a woman with a life-threatening knife injury. She’s at number four St Margaret’s Road. Number four, OK?’

  He ended the call and switched the phone off, then trudged back towards home.

  6

  He heard the sound of the television as he opened the front door. His first thought was Bean but when he went into the living room it was his mum alone in the darkness with the light of the screen shimmering across her face. She was watching a dumb shopping channel selling jumpers with pictures of wolves on them.

  He dropped the stuff from the break-ins, picked up the remote to turn the volume down.

  ‘You’ll wake Bean, Mum.’

  Angela was lying on the sofa, head at an angle. Her eyes were drooped but still open, a joint smouldering between the fingers of her right hand. There was a bottle of vodka on the floor next to her with an inch left in it, alongside a spoon with a used cotton filter, lighter and needle. She still had the belt loose around her upper arm.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Tyler said, picking up the heroin gear. ‘You can’t leave this lying around.’

  Angela turned her head like a sloth from the screen to him.

  ‘Don’t throw that out.’ Her voice was ragged. ‘It’s my last needle.’

  Her hair was greasy, blonde at the ends, flecks of grey through the darker stuff at her scalp. She was short and emaciated, limbs like twigs, arms pocked with puncture marks. She wore a stringy off-the-shoulder top with Pineapple! across it, no bra underneath, leggings covered in joint ash and other stains.

  Tyler imagined grabbing her and shaking, screaming in her face to get her shit together.

  She turned back to the TV, lifted her hand to her mouth and took a drag of the joint.

  ‘Look at this shit,’ she said, waving a finger at the screen. A woman wearing too much make-up was talking about a bed throw with a family of bears on it.

  Tyler took the syringe and the rest to Angela’s bedroom, placed it in the drawer next to her bed, then went back to the living room. He got a blanket from the chair by the window and opened it out, laid it over her. He tucked the corner away from her joint hand, found an old tea mug and placed it on the ground as an ashtray. She let out a breath in acknowledgement.

  He reached into his pants and took out the money, peeled a twenty off and replaced the rest.

  ‘Here,’ he said, holding the note out to her.

  She turned, saw the money, smiled and took it.

  ‘Sweet boy,’ she said. ‘Come here.’

  He sat down on the sofa but not close enough to hug. She tucked the money into her leggings and touched his hand on the blanket. Her skin was damp with sweat.

  ‘Mum,’ he said, staring at the screen.

  ‘I know,’ she said. The faintest squeeze of his hand, like a ghost. ‘I’m trying.’

  He closed his eyes and pictured the woman from the house, lying on the floor and staring up at him. When he opened his eyes, Angela was blinking at the screen again.

  He went through to Bean’s room. She was lying across the bed, feet dangling over the edge, covers on the floor. She clutched Panda tight in both arms, the toy pressed into her chest. Her nightlight was on, throwing a blue shadow across her face.

  Tyler eased her round the right way, pulled the covers over and tucked her in. She was a restless sleeper, would likely kick them off in five minutes anyway, but it was good to feel you were doing something. Her mouth was slack and her breath caught in her throat a little as she snuggled into her teddy. Tyler stared at her for a long time then left, pulling the door almost closed.

  He went out of the flat, along the corridor and pulled down the ladder for the roof. Climbed up and took gulping breaths of cold air as he opened the door at the top, then walked to the western edge and looked down. Forty-six metres to the ground. High enough.

  He gazed out. So strange to be the only two buildings left standing, like a pair of lookouts keeping watch for trouble. He looked at the lights of the hospital campus. He wondered if she was there already, rushed to A&E in the back of an ambulance, past the football injuries and domestic abuse, the turned ankles and allergic inflammations. Already being cared for. Or maybe they hadn’t believed him, thought it was a crank call and hadn’t bothered. He had no idea what their protocol was.

  ‘Tyler?’

  It was Bean behind him, by the access door, holding Panda.

  He went over. ‘What are you doing up?’

  ‘I had a bad dream,’ she said, lines on her forehead. ‘Barry’s dogs were after us. They chased you away, I couldn’t find you.’

  He picked her up and stroked her hair.

  ‘It’s just a silly dream.’ He carried her back down the ladder, smiling for her benefit.

  ‘But it seemed so real,’ she said.

  He could feel the tension in her body, but it was easing.

  He kept his voice level. ‘Don’t worry, nothing will ever chase me away from you.’

  7

  He was already awake when the alarm rang. He stared at his phone for a few seconds then switched the sound off. Bean stretched out next to him and threw her arm over his chest. He lifted it off.

  He’d got her back to bed and straight to sleep after being up on the roof, but then she woke again at half four, came padding through to tell him about another bad dream. A dark, shadowy monster ripping Tyler to pieces in front of her. Always the same, evil forces separating the two of them. Didn’t take a genius to work out where it came from. Tyler had lifted the covers and she got in beside him, Panda too, and after a couple of minutes she went back to sleep as he stroked her head. He was too hot with her body next to his, flipped his covers off, his mind thrumming, chewing everything over. He stayed that way as the sky lightened outside, and now it was time to get up.

  ‘Wake up,’ he said, rubbing Bean’s nose. ‘Time to get ready for school.’

  She opened her eyes and smiled. ‘You’re here.’

  ‘Where else would I be?’

  He got up, pulled black trousers on and opened the curtains. It was a clear morning, the sun already halfway up the sky to the east. He was glad his bedroom was at the back of the flat, it meant he couldn’t see the hospital from here.

  He’d l
ooked up the number for A&E on his phone as he lay in bed earlier, his thumb over the call button. But how would that work? He didn’t have her name. And the only way he could describe her incriminated himself.

  Bean got up, rubbing her eye, dragging Panda by the ear.

  Tyler smiled. ‘Your uniform’s laid out in your room.’

  ‘Can you help me with the tights?’

  He made a show of a dramatic sigh. ‘Go on, then, but you’re a big seven-year-old, you should be doing that yourself.’

  He hated doing her tights. Whatever he did they weren’t comfortable, weren’t quite right, and she always did a silly dance hoisting them up then picking them out of her bum crack.

  He threw the rest of his clothes on then helped her, and they wandered to the living room and kitchenette. Angela wasn’t there, so she’d somehow managed to get to bed. Tyler was glad. Seeing her like that wasn’t good for Bean, no matter how much bullshit he fed her about Mum being unwell. She was a smart kid, she knew what was going on. Living round here, you grew up quick or got left behind. Addicted and abusive parents were all over this neighbourhood, three generations of the wasted and the institutionalised fuck-ups, left, right and centre. More than half the kids in Bean’s class only had one parent, and half of them were flagged as being at risk.

  Tyler thought about the woman on the floor, about her kid. Her son’s room was full of teenage stuff. How much easier life was for them because they had money. He tried to imagine that woman shooting up in front of her son, like Angela had done in front of him for years. He’d tried to help her so many times. But at some point people had to take responsibility for themselves, right? He had no time to waste on his mum anymore, he had to make sure Bean was protected, that she got to and from school OK. And that she was kept away from the two next door as much as possible.

  He got Aldi own-brand Shreddies out of the cupboard, sniffed the milk from the fridge. Found a clean bowl and wiped off a spoon at the sink, stuck them on the breakfast bar. Bean had put cartoons on the television and he let her watch as she crunched and slurped. He made toast for himself, picking the flecks of mould from the crust and flicking them in the bin. He got his and Bean’s schoolbags together. She got free school meals, so that was something. He remembered the money in his pants and touched the edge of the notes. Safest place for it. If Barry found out he was skimming, he’d get another beating.