Mack shrugged. “What?”
“I’ll put you on the first train back to Edinburgh,” Archie said. “And next time – your mum’s going back up there with you.”
The first stop was in Stevenage, about thirty miles north of London. Mack sat up in his seat and stared through the window at the unspectacular little station.
I could do it. I could get off here. I could switch platforms and get the first train back to London. Walk straight up to the door in Stanmore Road and that would show them - show them that I won’t be bossed around by anyone. God, I’d love to see the look on their faces. And then I’d be there, standing in the middle of Piccadilly Circus with thousands of other people. Chester George will step onto the podium. And I’ll be there to see it.
But when the train pulled out of Stevenage, Mack was still in his seat.
He laid his head upon the glass, watching the scenery roll by. Green fields stretched out on both sides of the train, lying underneath low-hanging clouds. The various names of all the stations went past in a rapid blur: Peterborough, Newark North Gate, Doncaster, and all the rest.
The thought of going back to Edinburgh preyed upon his nerves. What would all the old faces think when they saw him in school? Mack Walker, the nice middle-class boy who’d stabbed Jon Rossi and got away with it. What would they say? Not just the kids but the parents who were sometimes twice as bad.
Mack the Knife. What would the Rossi family do now that old Macky’s back in town?
The sound of Jon Rossi screaming. It came to him late at night, just as he was drifting off to sleep. Jon Rossi, the tough guy who always acted the hardman in front of the girls. To hear him screaming that day like a little girl, his face contorting with pain as Mack crawled off his bloody chest – that was hard to forget.
Mack could still feel the warm blood running down his fingers. He could still see it falling off at the tips in thick drops, landing on the concrete with a faint, chilling splat.
Dark red raindrops.
Mack curled both hands into tight balls.
And then there was Piccadilly. He wanted to be there so badly when the Good and Honest Citizens came together in September. He didn’t even know why it was so important to him anymore, but something was calling him there. It felt like everything was at stake.
He turned in his seat, looking back towards the city that everybody was running away from. The one place he wanted to get back to. The one place in the world that was starting to make sense.
An announcement came through the speakers.
“Ladies and Gentleman, the next stop will be York…”
Yorkshire already? It felt as if he’d only been on the train for ten minutes. But now they’d come all the way from London to northern England. And it wouldn’t be long until they crossed the border into Scotland.
And after that…
The city of York loomed in the distance. Instinctively, as if his life depended on it, Mack got to his feet. He walked quickly over to the luggage rack and pulling the other baggage out of the way, dug out his small suitcase from the back.
Quick!
He replaced the other bags and dragged his suitcase towards the train door.
“C’mon,” he said, waiting for the train to slow down. At the same time, his mother’s voice jumped into his head:
You’re not stopping here Mack. You’re going all the way back to Edinburgh. At Waverley Station, you’ll take your granny’s shrivelled up hand, and she’s going to deliver you into the hands of an entire city that reeks of fear and hates your guts. And Jon Rossi will be waiting. Maybe he’ll smile when he sees you coming. Maybe he’ll show you his scars before he gets his revenge.
Finally the train arrived at York. Mack pushed button and the doors slid open.
He was the first person off the train. On the platform, he pulled his suitcase behind him and walked further into the station, walking like someone who was seriously late for an urgent appointment.
When he finally walked outside into the afternoon sunlight, it felt like he was waking up and out of a bad dream.
Mack looked around at his immediate surroundings. A section of York’s famous city wall, dating back to medieval times, was directly outside the station. This sight alone reinforced the fact that he was no longer in London.
With his suitcase in tow, he made his way down a short winding road that led past a row of small brick houses. All the while, he kept his eyes open for somewhere to sit down, somewhere he could think for a while.
Somewhere that didn’t bring him any closer to Edinburgh.
He followed the road further down. Taking a left, he walked through the distinctive Micklegate Bar, a medieval entrance for historic visitors arriving into York from the South. And further down that route, he found a small traditional cafe that didn’t look too busy and so he went inside.
At the counter, he ordered a Coke and a toasted sandwich from a friendly middle-aged lady. With her distinctive Yorkshire accent, she told Mack to sit down and she’d bring the food to him. He did so a corner table, tucking his suitcase under his seat.
Suddenly it hit him.
Shit. What have I done?
As Mack got to grips with what he’d just done, his eyes roamed the room, stopping at the TV fixed to the wall near the counter. The SKAM News Channel was broadcasting footage about the remarkable and ‘chilling’ standoffs going on in London. All across the capital, people - no longer hiding behind masks and hoods - had taken over large chunks of the city, standing in tens of thousands and shutting down large sections of London. Roads were closed, schools were shut, and hundreds of businesses were no longer open.
Phase Two.
The woman behind the counter was watching the footage as she prepared Mack’s food. She shook her head in disbelief, as if she was unable to believe her eyes.
Mack sipped at his Coke, the sugar reviving his spirits a little. He followed the news, watching as the newsreader, Hugh Stanton, spoke about the ‘rioters’ and how they were ‘holding the city hostage.’ He was also saying that ‘London was a time bomb ticking down until September.’ They were showing images of burning buildings taken from earlier in the riots, broadcasting them as if they were something new, something happening today.
Mack extended his middle finger towards the TV.
He brought it down quickly as the woman brought his food over. She put it on the table with a warm smile and a ‘there you go love’ in her broad Yorkshire accent. With his hunger pangs stimulated by the smell of melted cheese, Mack bit into the soft filling and just as he did so, a familiar face appeared on the TV screen.
It was Michael King.
The SKAM crew were interviewing the intense-looking young man in Peckham. Standing behind Michael King as he addressed the camera, was a large crowd of Good and Honest Citizens – of all ages and races. The crowd filled up the street in the background and Mack recognised a similar carnival-like scene to what he’d witnessed on Tottenham High Road.
The SKAM News caption labelled the speaker as: Michael King – Rioter.
Mack listened intently to the interview, looking at the conviction in the young man’s eyes and those gathered around him. By the time the interview was over, Mack knew what had to be done.
To hell with the consequences.
Leaving half the sandwich on his plate, he took his phone out of his pocket, found the number he was looking for, and hit the green button. As the number rang in his ear, Mack noticed that Hugh Stanton was now interviewing Sadie Hobbs in the SKAM studios.
Bitch.
He put a finger over his spare ear, drowning out the sound of the TV.
A familiar voice appeared on the other end of the line.
“Alright Mack? What’s happening mate?”
“Alright Sumo?” Mack said. “You sound a bit wrecked mate. Been up all night, eh?”
“Bit of a party here last night mate,” Sumo said. “Know what I mean? A shitload of vodka and Tegz’s weed, that’s all I remembe
r. Bad combo.”
Mack smiled. “Nice one,” he said.
“So you coming round?”
“Actually I am, aye.”
“Where you at then? Home?”
“York.”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
“York? What like, in…”
“Yorkshire, aye. They caught me coming in last night. There was a suitcase and a train ticket to Edinburgh waiting.”
“Bloody hell mate. You’re going home? When?”
“Today. I was, but not anymore. I’m coming back.”
“What about your folks? They’ll just send you back, won’t they?”
“I’m not going to their place mate. I was thinking about coming to the church and staying there until Piccadilly. If that’s cool?”
Sumo Dave perked up at that. “That’s my boy!”
“So it’s cool?”
“Yeah of course. Get down here bro. We’ll find you a sleeping bag or a blanket or something. You won’t be stuck for a place to sleep, I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’m on my way. Cheers Sumo.”
“Alright mate. See ya.”
Mack hung up and put the phone down on the table. Glancing over at the TV, he noticed that Sadie Hobbs was talking about lynch mobs again. She was in the middle of yet another rant, calling on the so-called ‘ordinary people’ in Britain to stand up and take over from the police and the army, in other words to do their job for them.
To flush out ‘the rats’ who’d taken over London.
Chapter 33
23rd August 2011
SKAM News Channel
In the SKAM News studios in Central London, veteran anchorman, ‘Slick’ Hugh Stanton, is all business as the camera zooms in.
HUGH STANTON: The number of people occupying the streets of London has continued to increase today in anticipation of an appearance by Chester George in Piccadilly Circus on the first of September. Our reporter, Poppy Baskerville, is in Peckham this afternoon. Poppy, what’s going on down there?
The camera cuts to a young woman of about thirty with long blonde hair. She’s standing in an inner city street where large crowds have gathered behind her.
POPPY BASKERVILLE: Thank you Hugh. Well here in Peckham, all roads lead to Piccadilly, which is just over four miles across the river from where I’m standing. Next Thursday, thousands of people are expected to march west from here in order to hear the mysterious Chester George give his first public speech.
The camera zooms out to reveal a tall black man standing beside Poppy. Dressed in a jet-black hoodie and khaki combat trousers, the young man’s eyes are glued to the camera as he’s introduced.
POPPY BASKERVILLE: Well you might remember Michael King from his recent appearance on The Paxton Show a couple of weeks ago. Michael, who played a large part in coordinating the London riots, is joining us live here in Peckham. Michael, thank you for your time.
MICHAEL KING: My pleasure.
POPPY BASKERVILLE: There are literally thousands of people standing out here on the street today, and elsewhere across London. What exactly is going?
MICHAEL KING: This is Phase Two. This is the occupation. It’s a true demonstration of people power.
POPPY BASKERVILLE: Has the rioting stopped altogether then?
MICHAEL KING: There were never any riots. What you saw was an insurrection. Phase One.
POPPY BASKERVILLE: Okay. So there’s no more looting then?
MICHAEL KING: The looting was just a symptom of hopelessness. Now we have hope. There’s no need to loot or burn anything else down. Chester George has asked us to be peaceful and we will comply with his wishes.
POPPY BASKERVILLE: But will there be violence at Piccadilly?
MICHAEL KING: The Good and Honest Citizens used violence to make people listen. You don’t listen to petitions, but when you hear the sound of a shop window being smashed in, by God, you’ll take notice.
With a nervous smile, Poppy Baskerville turns back to the camera.
POPPY BASKERVILLE: Michael King, thank you. Hugh, it’s back to you in the studio.
HUGH STANTON: (Smiling) Thank you Poppy. Well, it’s been a remarkable few weeks here in London. And what’s even more remarkable is that a reality TV star and an unknown man dressed up like a skeleton are now more influential than the British government. Well, joining me now is the woman of the hour - Sadie Hobbs.
The camera pans right to reveal Sadie Hobbs sitting next to Hugh. She’s wearing a short gold dress, which matches her orange skin and crimped blonde hair. As she’s introduced, her lips ease into a relaxed smile.
HUGH STANTON: Sadie, thank you for joining us. Piccadilly – September 1st. What’s your take on this?
SADIE HOBBS: Hugh. It’s going to be the GREATEST day in the history of this city. It’s going to be remembered as the day we took our city back.
HUGH STANTON: (To camera) Did you hear that London?
SADIE HOBBS: You see it’s like this Hugh. I want people to stop hiding from these yobs. I want them to stop sitting in front of their TVs, cowering behind the curtains and gawking as all our buildings burn and shops get their windows smashed in.
Sadie turns to the camera.
SADIE HOBBS: Seriously! Why so PASSIVE Britain? We have strength in numbers. Forget the police, the army, the politicians – they had their chance and the truth is, they blew it. It’s up to us to put a stop to this. US.
HUGH STANTON: So what exactly are you proposing?
SADIE HOBBS: I’m proposing that we have our own march to Piccadilly in September. That we get everyone out onto the streets and show Chester George and his pet rats who has the real power.
HUGH STANTON: Are you encouraging people to become vigilantes?
SADIE HOBBS: (Nodding) YES! And I’ll tell you something Hugh - if we’d done this earlier and stood up to the rioters - poor old London could have been spared a lot of hassle. But we trusted in our police force and our politicians to protect us. And they FAILED!
HUGH STANTON: And I hear you have a documentary crew following you around as you prepare for this counter-march to Piccadilly?
SADIE HOBBS: (Smiling) Yes, well with my reality TV background it seemed like a no-brainer Hugh. So yes we’re filming my attempt to save the city and the show is called Sadie Hobbs: Riot Hunter. Basically I’ll be going around knocking on doors around Britain, recruiting people for our march to Piccadilly.
HUGH STANTON: And where can viewers watch your show?
SADIE HOBBS: Right here on SKAM of course! (Gives him a playful wink) How could you even ask me such a question?
HUGH STANTON: I’m sorry darling.
SADIE HOBBS: SKAM One at 8.30pm, starting tomorrow night.
HUGH STANTON: So you’re recruiting an army?
SADIE HOBBS: ABSOLUTELY! And we’re going to exterminate these feral rats once and for all.
HUGH STANTON: (Smiling) Sadie Hobbs, thank you very much.
Sadie turns to the camera.
SADIE HOBBS: Remember! – Sadie Hobbs: Riot Hunter - 8.30pm tomorrow night. See you there!
Chapter 34
24th August 2011
Mack stood outside the Christ Apostolic Church on Tottenham High Road. He pressed the phone up against his ear, while surveying the crowds around him.
“Hello?” said a voice on the other end of the line.
“Mum, it’s me,” Mack said. “I’m back in London.”
“Mack!” Isabella’s voice was full of relief. “Are you alright?”
“I’m alright,” he said.
“Your gran phoned us yesterday. She said you never arrived at the station. We’ve heard nothing since – what the hell is going on with you?”
Mack was looking over to the other side of the High Road, where a woman was sitting on the burned out shell of a police car. A young boy was sitting next to her on the roof. They were pointing at the sky, looking up at the stars.
Mack wondered if that was one of two police cars he’d s
een burned on the first night of rioting.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Where are you?”
“I told you. Back in London.”
“Where in London?”
A part of him wanted to tell her he was close. Real close. She was his mother and he owed her that much.
“I can’t say,” he said.
“Mack,” Isabella said. “London isn’t safe.”
“Edinburgh isn’t safe either Mum,” he said. “Not for me.”
He could hear his dad’s voice in the background. Asking her to ask Mack questions.
“We’re going back,” Isabella said. “You have to come with us. I promise you, nothing bad will happen.”
“I can’t Mum.”
“Are you at Sumo Dave’s?” Isabella asked.
Mack smiled. “I know that’s the first place you’d look.”
“What are you going to do Mack?”
He took a deep breath. “I’m going to Piccadilly Mum.”
“With your friends from the Broadwater Farm Estate?” she said. “God Mack, you really know how to pick them don’t you?”
“What?”
“Your friends.”
“Friends?” Mack said. He turned around and looked back up at the second floor window of the church. “I can count my friends on one finger Mum.”
Isabella was quiet for a moment. Then she said in flat voice:
The Future of London Box Set Page 17