Barry frowned. ‘What’s this?’
Tyler looked out of the window. ‘It’s nothing.’
Barry indicated as they turned into Craighouse Road. These were terraced houses, no easy way in, safety in numbers.
‘I’ll decide if it’s nothing,’ he said.
Kelly touched his arm on the gearstick. ‘Baby brother here got in a fight with Ryan Holt.’
‘How the hell do you know?’ Tyler said.
‘Denise messaged me, her little sister saw it. Thought I should know.’
They turned into Morningside Drive, some bigger targets here.
‘It wasn’t a fight,’ Tyler said.
Barry pulled in to the kerb and put the car out of gear. He made a show of turning to Tyler, shifting his body round and holding the headrest behind him. He stared at Tyler. ‘What was it then?’
‘Nothing.’
Kelly smiled. ‘Denise said you took a punch.’
Barry shook his head. ‘Why am I only hearing about this now?’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Tyler said.
Barry stuck his chin out. ‘You take a beating from a kid who just happens to be the son of the woman we…’
That Taylor Swift song was burbling away, the engine ticking over in neutral. Barry put a hand to his forehead. ‘What the fuck were you doing talking to Ryan Holt?’
Tyler had his head down. ‘I wasn’t talking to him.’
‘Then why did he hit you?’
‘He’s angry about his mum, that’s all.’
Barry scratched his head. ‘What are you trying to say?’
Tyler held his hands out in supplication. ‘I’m not trying to say anything.’
‘Are you saying I shouldn’t have done what I did?’
Kelly tried to touch Barry’s arm but he shook her off. The look he gave her made her turn away.
‘Is that what you’re saying?’
Barry’s eyes were wide and Tyler wondered how much coke he’d had before they came out.
‘Of course not.’
‘I did what I had to do,’ Barry said, talking to himself. ‘She was going to call the cops. We would’ve been fucked. I didn’t see either of you two cunts saving our necks.’
Kelly piped up. ‘You did what you had to.’
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Barry said. ‘This isn’t about you. It’s about this cunt, thinks he knows best.’
Tyler spoke. ‘Barry, come on.’
Barry grabbed the front of Tyler’s shirt, pulled him closer so that Tyler’s chest was pressed against the back of Kelly’s seat. The move was so quick and strong Tyler’s breath caught in his chest. Barry didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared into Tyler’s eyes, breathing on him, beer and adrenaline.
‘Stay the fuck away from Ryan Holt, OK?’ he said eventually.
Tyler took a deep breath. ‘Of course. Sorry.’
Barry let go and Tyler slumped back in his seat.
Barry turned and switched the engine off. ‘Now let’s go and rob some cunt.’ He got out, Kelly and Tyler sharing a glance as they followed. This was nuts, they didn’t have a target yet, it was raining, there was CCTV in the street, plenty of streetlights. Barry was losing it.
They walked past a couple of white detached bungalows, 1920s, then there was a row of older terraced houses, most with lights on. The end house was dark, had a way round to the back door, no sign of an alarm box. But the house next door to it was lit up, a television playing in the living room. Barry walked straight up the path of the dark house and stopped outside. He didn’t press the bell, just looked up then headed round the back.
Tyler shook his head at Kelly. ‘What the fuck?’
Kelly shrugged. ‘Just come on.’
Tyler trudged after her, his instincts on fire. This was too dangerous, all their procedures for avoiding conflict had been abandoned. It was as if Barry was looking for trouble, hunting it down.
Round the back there were hedges preventing them being seen from the road. Barry was already into the shed at the bottom of the garden, and came out with telescopic secateurs. He barrelled to the back door and wedged the blade into the space between door and frame, heaved on the handles and the back door popped so easily that it banged against an inside wall. As Barry went inside, Tyler saw a light go on upstairs.
‘Barry,’ he said under his breath. ‘Someone’s in.’
Barry stood in the dark kitchen and turned to look where Tyler was pointing.
‘Hello?’ A man’s voice upstairs.
Tyler stared at Barry. ‘This is not how we do it.’
Kelly had a pleading look on her face.
Barry looked at them both but didn’t move. He weighed the secateurs in his hands like a weapon.
‘Is someone there?’ The upstairs hall light came on, then the downstairs hall. Footsteps down the stairs.
‘Fuck this,’ Tyler said.
He turned to leave but Barry reached out and grabbed his arm, held tight. He waited a few seconds, looked towards the hall, listened to the footsteps, hesitated.
‘I’m armed,’ the voice said. ‘And I’m calling the police.’
Kelly stared at Barry holding Tyler. ‘Please, Barry.’
Barry seemed to notice her for the first time since the car. He turned back to the hall, then looked at Tyler. He took one last look around the kitchen then seemed to decide something. He picked up a small digital radio and a bottle of whisky sitting on the worktop and left, dropping the secateurs on the grass as he strode to the bottom of the garden then clambered over the hedge, Kelly and Tyler scrambling after him. Tyler felt wetness on the front of his jacket as he shimmied over the rainsoaked bush and down into the street behind.
Barry was already twenty yards down the road, swigging from the whisky. He didn’t look back to see if his brother and sister were following. He turned at the end of the road, then again, and was back at the parked car in two minutes, Tyler and Kelly scurrying behind. Tyler hunkered against the rain and listened for sirens but there was nothing. Of course, the police didn’t have the resources to send a car and officers to every attempted break-in across the city.
Barry opened the car and got in, Kelly and Tyler behind. They shook the rain off, Tyler running a hand through his hair. Barry swigged the whisky and threw the digital radio into the footwell by Kelly’s feet.
‘What the hell was that?’ Tyler said.
Kelly turned and glared at him.
Barry switched the engine on and the radio started up again, Rita Ora this time. He didn’t speak, just pulled out and drove east, heading out of Morningside and along Cluny Gardens. Somewhere to their left was Flick’s house. And a couple of streets over was Will’s house. And beyond that a few more streets was St Margaret’s Road, where Deke and Ryan would be planning revenge.
They were at the King’s Buildings crossroads waiting at the lights when the late-night news bulletin came on. Top story, the police were still appealing for witnesses to an armed burglary two nights ago, the woman who was attacked remained in a coma. They were still hot news. Kelly stared at the car radio. Barry just kept looking straight ahead, one hand on the wheel, the other clutching the open bottle of whisky by the neck as the windscreen wipers swished in front of him like a heartbeat.
24
Tyler checked on Bean, who had slid halfway out of bed onto a pile of clothes. For some reason she was also wearing an old scarf of Tyler’s like a bandana. He wondered what went through her mind sometimes. He picked her up and scooped her back onto the mattress, and she snuffled into the crook of his arm. He waited a moment to make sure she’d settled and spotted a pile of Polaroid pictures next to her pillow. He picked them up and flicked through. They were mostly of her school friends, some with her included in them too. One of Miss Kelvin, one of Panda. She had used up over half the film already.
He checked on Angela next. She was lying on top of her covers, mouth open. He couldn’t hear her breathing so he went over to check and her eyes fluttered open. It took her
a moment to focus.
‘My beautiful boy,’ she said.
‘Hey, Mum.’ He was already heading towards the door.
‘Wait.’ She pushed herself up on her elbows, sat up on the bed. She shook the sleep from her head, blinking heavily. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s late, go back to sleep.’
Angela patted the bed next to her. ‘Come and sit with your old mum for a minute.’
He hesitated at the door.
‘Please.’
He sat at the bottom of the bed near her bare feet. She sometimes did this, drunken or high moments of affection, bittersweet because they never lasted.
‘You’re such a good boy,’ she said, sniffing. There was a bottle of schnapps and some smack gear on the table next to the bed, and she kept glancing at it. ‘What am I saying, you’re a young man now.’
‘Mum, I need to get some sleep.’
‘Wait.’ She reached for his hand and took it. The sores, the dry patches, were rough against his skin. ‘Just listen.’
He sighed. She cricked her neck. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, Tyler, really.’
‘Don’t.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘I mean it. Bean too.’
Tyler just sat there.
‘When Barry and Kelly’s dad left,’ Angela said, ‘I thought I would die.’
This was her sob story. Angela had Barry and Kelly when she was still a teenager, knocked up by an on-and-off boyfriend called Jay. He was a real ballbuster, in and out of young offenders’ then proper prison for a series of violent crimes. In between spells inside he used Angela as a punching bag, but she put up with it. She started drinking heavily to take the pain away, then graduated to smack, which Jay was pushing on the side anyway, so there was plenty around.
Then along came Tyler. Problem was, he wasn’t Jay’s kid, couldn’t be because Jay had been in jail, the dates didn’t match. Angela didn’t even know who the dad was, could’ve been any one of half a dozen candidates, because she went through a phase of screwing for a fix when Jay wasn’t around, anything to keep the darkness away. When Jay got out and saw Tyler he gave Angela a final ferocious beating, breaking four ribs, and left her to deal with all three kids. Which she continued to do terribly.
After no contact for five years, Jay got back in touch, wanted time with his two kids again. Something about a legacy. So he got Barry and Kelly whenever he wanted, no official agreement, just on the hoof. And they learned from him, about booze and drugs, about theft, violence and intimidation. Leaving Tyler at home with Angela as she got more and more lost in narcotics and couldn’t find a way out. By the time Bean came along – another unknown dad in the mix – Barry and Kelly were young teenagers, already helping Jay out on any number of dirty jobs.
Then one day Jay fucked the wrong guy’s wife, gave her a small going-over into the bargain, and the husband came looking with two brothers and a cousin. The next morning a primary-school football team found Jay’s cold body on waste ground next to the Jack Kane Centre. But he’d spent enough time drilling into Barry and Kelly that they had to carry on what he’d taught them, so the bullshit legacy continued. They treated Angela with disgust, Tyler and Bean too, although they’d kept a tighter rein on Tyler, using him and abusing him into the bargain.
‘But you saved me, Tyler,’ Angela said now. ‘You gave me a reason to keep going.’
This was delusional, she’d kept going with drink and drugs. Tyler had lost count of the number of times he came in from school to find her crashed out, needle on the floor, vomit, and one time black smoke billowing from the grill pan so that he had to switch everything off and open the windows. He was Bean’s age when that happened. But he never told anyone, not his teachers or social services, because if they took him away from her, she would die. He knew that because she’d told him often enough.
‘Mum, it’s late.’
She shook her head and squeezed his hand again.
‘I’ve fucked everything up in my life,’ she said. ‘I’ve tried my best to fuck you up too, and Bean, but you’re both so strong, so good. I’m a terrible mother.’
‘Get some sleep,’ Tyler said.
‘The world will be a better place when I’m dead,’ Angela said.
He turned to her. ‘Don’t say that.’
She reached for his face and stroked his cheek. He flinched. ‘You’re sweet, but you know it’s true.’
‘You’re not a bad mother.’
She was crying now, swallowed hard. ‘I’m just so weak. I’ve always been weak. Ever since I met Jay at school. I never stood up to him, never stood up to Barry or Kelly either. I’ve never stood up for myself in my whole life.’
‘Things can change, Mum. You can change.’
She shook her head again. ‘It’s too late.’
Her hand was still on his face. He lifted it away and held it in his own on the bed.
‘Go to sleep, Mum, you’ll feel better in the morning.’
She seemed to deflate, like all the energy left her. She glanced again at the gear and the bottle on the table and Tyler sighed. He patted her hand and got up, then lifted a blanket from the bottom of the bed and pulled it over her. She smiled, her brow wet with sweat and her fingers drumming on the edge of the blanket.
‘Goodnight, Mum.’
‘Goodnight, love.’
He went to his room and lay down on the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, but couldn’t sleep. Eventually he got his phone out. Dialled and waited. Three rings then an answer.
‘I wasn’t expecting to hear from you after earlier.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Tyler said.
‘Really,’ Flick said.
‘Really.’ Tyler stared at the ceiling. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘So talk.’
He breathed in and out. ‘Can I come and see you?’
‘Now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s half one in the morning.’
‘I know.’
A long pause. ‘OK.’
25
Inveresk was like Hogwarts or some magical kingdom, hidden behind high walls in the downmarket centre of Musselburgh. Tyler walked up the High Street catching glimpses of mustard-coloured walls between the large oak trees. He had Jon Hopkins playing in his earbuds, sweeping synths and glitchy drums fading in and out, everything echoing and bouncing. He got to the front gate, closed and guarded. CCTV all over the place. His instincts were kicking in as he pulled his hood tighter round his head. He turned down Millhill. This was better, a lot less busy than the main street. Buildings from the school campus backed onto the street here, but had small barred windows like a prison. The same bright-mustard walls, so they weren’t trying to blend in.
Tyler had checked out the school’s website on the night bus on the way, downloaded the campus map. He laughed out loud on the top deck when he saw that they had tennis courts, a golf academy, music, dance and drama studios. A theatre and a chapel. A tunnel that ran under the High Street, for God’s sake, from the hockey pitches on one side to the science labs on the other.
Then he’d checked the fees. Holy shit, eleven thousand per term meant over thirty grand a year just to go to school. And this was a family who had a house in Edinburgh anyway, a million-pound home lying empty. Christ.
He turned into Millhill Lane, pebble-dash terraces and flats, working-class homes right next to all this wealth. He found the black gate with the red cross on it, sent her a text and waited, took his earbuds out. Tried to make it look as if he had a reason to be there, checking his phone as if something had just occurred to him, pretending to send a message. He couldn’t see any cameras from here but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.
A few minutes later he heard a bolt being slid back. The gate creaked open and there she was, hair up in a mess, wearing joggers and a hoodie as if she was just like him.
She signalled for him to come in. She did that thing of looking around to check the coas
t was clear, which was so suspicious. He walked past her. She locked the gate then turned to him with her finger at her lips. She took his arm and he felt a tingle at the touch.
They walked around the edge of a neat grass square, under the cover of trees, then they were at the chapel. She pushed the door and they went inside. It was a strange building, old and Gothic at one end, a huge triangular sixties mosaic window at the other. This had featured in the recruitment video Tyler watched on the bus, a bunch of kids with marbles in their mouths singing hymns and looking angelic. A faint light came through the mosaic, the spill of streetlights over the wall carving up the gloom.
Flick sat in a pew at the front. ‘Sorry, I can’t risk having you in Almond House, someone might hear.’
That was where the sixth-year girls boarded, Tyler had seen that on the map too. Each boarding house had a housemistress. A different world.
He sat down next to her on the cold wooden pew.
‘I’m so sorry about earlier,’ Tyler said, looking away down the church.
‘I’m not on a poverty safari.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m not just slumming it,’ she said. ‘I know your life isn’t a game.’
Tyler shook his head. ‘It’s just Barry. He pushes my buttons.’
‘He’s horrible.’
‘I don’t want him anywhere near you,’ Tyler said. ‘I mean it.’
‘I can handle myself.’
Tyler let out a laugh and Flick looked offended.
‘You don’t think I can?’ she said.
‘It’s not about handling yourself,’ Tyler said. ‘Barry’s in a different league.’
‘I’ve seen some things.’
Something in the tone of her voice made Tyler look up.
‘Like what?’
Flick shook her head. ‘My dad is a trained killing machine, remember? Seven years in the Royal Marines, where he picked up a metal plate in his leg, night terrors, anger management issues and, according to my mum, syphilis and gonorrhoea.’
‘Jesus.’
‘To be honest, the STIs were the least of my parents’ problems. I’d like to say that the anger was down to his PTSD, but dad was always angry at the world. I think that’s why he went into the Marines in the first place. War can definitely turn people psycho, but sometimes people are just psycho to begin with.’
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