“Hello,” Jason said, deliberately ignoring the hair cut remark.
She showed Jason into the home. He took in his surroundings. The home was small and clean but had a strong smell of cigarettes. A haze of smoke hung on the ceiling. It was previously white but was now nicotine stained yellow. He was shown into the front room. A television boomed with coverage of a soccer match. Shamus and Bradan O’Neill were sat together on a brown couch. Jason waved the smoke away from his face. Both men starred at Jason and looked him up and down. Shamus stood and shook Jason’s hand.
Jason watched the curious, impressive profile of Shamus for a time. Was this the man who killed his grandparents? A part of him felt like hurting him, but for now he had a mission to do. He would go along with it. Jason studied him. He looked older than his thirty-six years. His hair had prematurely turned grey. He wore a white shirt and black pants.
“Top of the morning to you Laddie.” Shamus Smiled. “Welcome to our home. I’m Shamus O’Neill your new foster father and you are?”
“This is Jason, Jason Norris,” Maude interrupted.
“Jason, we were watching the match. Ho you like soccer? Oh this is my brother Bradan,” Shamus said. Jason looked at Bradan, he was an older version of Shamus, with watchful eyes. He said nothing, his eyes watching the television and then back to Jason’s, trying not to make eye contact. Jason stepped forward. He had been briefed on the case by Jerry and was told Bradan had some mental health issues.
“Hello, Bradan, I’m Jason. Nice to meet you, sir,” Jason said.
“He’s English,” Shamus snapped at Jerry, his eyes glaring at Jason as he climbed out of his seat. “Are you taking me for an Eejit?”
“Ee what?” Jason asked, looking at Shamus and back at Jerry.
Shamus laughed and calmed down. “I was talking to Jerry, not you Laddie.”
“Shamus, he’s Irish. He has been with English foster families, but according to his records he was born in Belfast. I’m sure once we get him into a local school he will drop that accent,” Jerry said. “Jason, Eejit is Irish for Idiot.”
“Oh.” Jason laughed.
“Come on Jason, let me show you around the house. This is your home now,” Maude said. Jason followed her into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink? I have orange. We don’t have any Coke. I’m making a fresh pot of tea, do you like that?”
“Yes, tea is great. Thanks, Mrs. O’Neill,” Jason said. She filled the kettle and took Jason up stairs. She showed Jason the bathroom. It was small, no shower but a large cast iron bathtub, a sink with three toothbrushes scattered along the back, a trail of dried crusted toothpaste ran across the top of the sink. The toilet had a fluffy orange cover on the lid. “I will put out a towel for you later.”
She stopped outside the bathroom door and waited for Jason on the landing. Slowly, she opened the first bedroom door. “This is Bradans room. Apart from now, you will have no need to enter it. Jason followed her in. It had a single bed under the window and pictures hanging on every wall. Jason found them hard to understand, some looked like horses and dogs with lines going through them, others plants or trees.
“Bradan has a few issues and can’t think like we do. He loves his drawings; please do not ever touch them or come into his room. He’s harmless enough but he likes his privacy,” Maude said.
“I understand, Jerry told me. I won’t bother him,” Jason said.
“This is mine and Shamus’s room.” She pointed before opening the door at the end of the landing. “And this will be yours, it’s wee but comfortable.” Jason stepped into the small bedroom. It was the smallest bedroom he’d ever seen. The single bed fitted snug with no room at either end. It had a dresser against the wall and a small wooden chair under the window. There was just enough room to walk between the bed and dresser.
Jason peered out the window and turned back to Maude. “It’s a nice room. Thank you for having me.”
Maude placed his case on the bed and opened it. She smiled. “And who do we have here?” She took out Charlie Teddy.
Jason blushed and went into his act. “I don’t need that old thing now I’m twelve. I’ve had it for years. Probably throw it away soon. I don’t need it to get to sleep,” Jason said.
“Then should I be giving him to the church for a charity sale?” Maude asked.
“Um no, I’ll just put him on the bed He brings me luck,” Jason said, trying to look embarrassed. She placed his clothing in the dresser and slid the case under his bed. Charlie was tucked in the bed with his head sticking out the top, his one button eye looking up at the ceiling.
*
The O’Neill’s chose Shankill High School, mostly because the majority of the students were Catholic. It took students aged from eleven to sixteen and was a fifteen-minute walk from the home. Maude took Jason his first day to complete the enrollment paperwork. Jason wore black trousers, white shirt, and grey ‘V’ neck pullover. The school had no set uniform. They tried to encourage all religions, however protestant families preferred Downsview High School that was a half a mile away.
Jason received looks from most of the children in the corridor. He expected it; he was the new boy after all. He felt relaxed and was happy not to wear a tie or a school uniform. Jason had only been to all-boys schools. He wondered how it would differ from what he was used too.
A bell sounded and the corridors soon emptied. The children branched off into the class rooms, a couple of late stragglers ran in and where abruptly shouted at by the headmaster, Mr. Filan, for running.
“Maude O’Neill, this is a nice surprise, and who do we have here?” Mr. Filan asked. He paced towards them and shook Jason’s hand.
“Kian Filan, it’s good to see you, although I’m sure you’re Mr. Filan here in the school. This is Jason, Jason Norris. I’m his foster mother and have come to enroll him,” she said proudly. Mr. Filan looked back at Jason.
“Welcome to Shankill High, Jason. I’m sure you’ll soon fit in and make plenty of friends. Your hair is long at the front, can you see out?”
“Thank you sir. I can see just fine thanks,” Jason said, brushing his blond bangs across his eyes.
“Well if you say so. Let’s do some paperwork and get you in class.”
Before she left, Maude looked at Jason and straightened his collar. “Bless you and keep out of trouble,” she said and kissed him on the forehead.
If anyone had been looking, Jason would have blushed with shame. But as it was, the kiss and blessing lightened his heart as he walked away.
Jason cringed when he walked into the class. He could feel everyone’s eyes watching him. He pulled his blond bangs across his face so it hung just below his eyes. Even at the age of twelve, it still acted as a barrier for him; it made him feel secure. His hair was always cut short on the back and side, but hung long on top over his eyes. He would argue it was his fashion statement, but if the truth was known, it was for times like this when his shy side took over and he wanted to hide in his comfort zone.
The first lesson was math, followed by English. Jason found the lessons surprisingly easy. In the private School he had attended, he was below average in all subjects except languages. Here at Shankill he seemed to be above average in everything.
The bell rang for the end of morning period; it was morning break. Jason followed the other children. A few visited the bathrooms and the rest made their way to the playground. Jason stood alone, taking his surroundings. Some of the younger girls played a clapping hands game; it amused him. The older boys walked in groups, some younger boys ran after each. A game of soccer took part in the center. Jason couldn’t make out who was against who. It seemed like they were all against each other and not in specific teams.
He was nudged in the shoulder. “Watch it blond mop,” A boy said. Jason quickly turned. A boy his age he noticed in class faced him.
“Sorry I didn’t see you,” Jason said.
The boy stood back. Jason sized him up. He looked twelve, stocky with short dark
hair with green eyes that looked too close together. “Are you English?” he asked excitedly.
Jason could see the eagerness in his question. He wasn’t sure if he could pull off an Irish accent but knew as soon as he answered it would be trouble. “No I was born in Belfast. I’ve been to school in England for a few years but I’m home now.”
“You sound like an English toff. What are you doing ‘ere?” the boy demanded.
“I live here now with foster parents,” Jason said, slowly twisting himself at an angle to the boy and raising himself on his toes. He was expecting trouble although he knew he couldn’t possibly use his martial arts skills on a schoolboy. But he was not about to get hurt either.
“I don’t like the English.” The boy moved forward and tried to grab Jason’s collar. His attempt was blocked. Jason paused. He was told never to use his skills and knew he had to be careful in situations like this. A playground brawl could prove deadly to someone. The decision was made for him the boy swung a fist towards Jason’s face.
Jason ducked and held his own fist back, not wanting to hurt the boy. The boy swung again and again. Each time, Jason blocked the blows.
“Scrap,” someone shouted, then another. A crowd gathered; jeers and cheers followed. “Go on Haden, give it to him.” Not getting anywhere with his fists, the boy they called Haden kicked out at Jason. Instinctively, Jason blocked it and swept Haden’s other leg away, sending Haden onto the ground. Jason held himself back. He would normally pounce. Instead, he stood back.
Haden climbed to his feet. His face was bright red. Jason wasn’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment. Haden lunged at Jason, but his move was predictable and slow. Jason twisted to one side and, using a judo technique, threw Haden into crowd of spectators. The failing attempt to hurt Jason lost Haden any supporters he had. They stepped back and let him fall to the ground.
Haden climbed to his feet again, his face bright red, sweating and gritted teeth. Again, he ran at Jason with fists flying. Jason blocked the first punch and caught Haden’s arms and held it in an arm lock.
“When you let me go I’m going to kick your head in,” Haden cursed. Jason held his arm firm. Haden screamed in pain. “Let us go, you blond haired wazzock.”
Jason applied more pressure to Haden’s arms and bent down towards Haden’s face and spoke quietly in his ear. “Listen you little Dodo, you either calm down and leave me alone or I’ll break your arm,” Jason said before he applied more pressure and let him go, pushing Haden away.
Haden recovered and rubbed his arm. “You’re lucky you caught me off guard with a bad arm, else I’d take ya easy,” Haden shouted.
“Yeah Haden, looks like he’s shaking in his boots. Just admit it, you got your head kicked in by the new boy.” An older boy chirped in and laughed. Haden ignored the remark and stormed off, leaving Jason in the center of the crowd. Jason put his hands in his pockets and walked through the crowd. They moved away, giving him an exit.
“Hey what’s your name?” another boy asked. He ran and caught up with Jason.
“Jason Norris.” He turned and looked at the boy. He had red hair and more freckles than Jason had ever seen on one person. They covered his face, neck, and even his ears. He wore round wire glasses. He was thin and his clothing was much too large for him and hung off his small body. Jason assumed it was passed down from an older brother.
“I’m Gobnait O’Grady,” he said.
Did he seriously say Gobnait? Jason said to himself.
“Hi, Um what did you say your name was again?” Jason asked.
“Gobnait O’Grady. Most just call me Gober.” He paused and continued. “Well, my friends do anyway; the others call me Nerdnait here.”
“Why Nerdnait?” Jason asked.
“’Cause I’m good at math, English and well most of it, and I read a lot of books.”
How do I always attract the nerds? Jason asked himself.
“Can I call you Gober?” Jason smiled.
“Yes, what do they call you, just Jason?
“Normally, although today, Haden called me blond mop.” Jason grinned.
“Well that’s cause you got long blond hair.” He examined Jason. “Well long in the front. You can’t see your eyes. How come you never hit Haden, you had plenty of chances? Everyone would love to hit Haden McGinty. All the McGinty’s think they’re hard.”
The bell sounded before Jason could answer. They walked back to class. Jason was surprised that no teachers turned up to break up the fight. It almost seemed acceptable practice
CHAPTER Three
The next period was French. It was a subject he was top in at his previous school, St. Joseph’s. Even Scott, with his extremely high IQ, couldn’t match Jason when it came to foreign languages. Jason put it down to learning both English and Chinese as a child after being born and brought up in Hong Kong at the British Naval base. Since then, he had been able to pick up a foreign language quickly.
Jason waited for most of the children to take a seat before finding an empty space. The closest one was next to a girl he later found out was called Danni. She was a slim girl with pretty blue eyes, long brown shoulder length hair, and a dimple in her chin.
“Is anyone sitting here?” Jason asked.
“Not unless they’re invisible,” she tutted. “There’s a space back there with Gober.” She nodded with her head. Jason looked up. Gobnait was smiling at him, beckoning him back.
After finally sitting next to Gobnait, the teacher, a Mrs. Tetley, walked in. She was a large woman with a friendly face.
“Bonjouer,” Mrs. Tetley announced.
The class greeted her with the same welcome. The lesson was painfully boring for Jason. He kept his French skills to himself. He wanted to keep under the radar. He had already been in the limelight too much for one day. Although he noticed Danni looking at him, when he looked back, she turned her head away as if she wasn’t interested in him.
Final lesson of the day was math. Jason found it surprisingly amusing. Mr. Griggs, the math tutor, was a spry little old Irishman with long gray hair, wild green eyes, and frequent nervous twitches. His Irish drawl amused Jason so much he had to hold off from laughing.
Jason gave a sigh of relief when the final bell went off, signaling end of the school day. He was pleased to get out of school. A sense of freedom hit him when he got outside, then reality set in. He wasn’t going home. He was going to the O’Neill family home.
He opened the front door, kicked off his shoes, and walked into the kitchen. He was surprised to see a group of six men sat around the table.
“Who the bloody hell is this?” one man with no teeth asked, getting up from his seat.
Bradan was sat with them. He frowned at Jason and, as usual, said nothing. The room went silent, most of the men looked at Bradan as if he was going to say something. Jason found that weird, as Bradan never said hardly anything.
“I’m Jason. I live here. Who are you? Where’s Maude and Shamus?”
“Relax guys this is Jason. He’s Maude’s, well our, foster son,” Shamus said, strolling into the kitchen doing up his fly.
“He sounds English, Shamus,” the toothless man said, although Jason thought he whistled the word Shamus.
“He does, but he’s Irish blood in him just been in school over there for a few years. We’ll soon get him speaking proper again. Won’t we Jason? How was your first day at school?” Shamus said.
“Um, okay thanks. Can I get a drink please?”
“Sure, the guys just came around for a chat. They’re leaving now. See you at the Red Bull tonight lads,” Shamus said.
The group of men got up and slowly left. A few ruffled Jason’s hair and smiled at him.
“Help yourself to a drink laddie. Maude got some orange squash or extra milk for ya. She’s at the chip shop getting our dinner. She won’t be long.”
“Thanks,” Jason said and poured himself a glass of milk.
“So everything go well at school Jason, make any frie
nds?” Shamus asked suspiciously. Jason picked up on his tone and noticed Bradan watching and waiting for an answer.
“Yes sir, I made a new friend. Gobnait O’Grady.”
“Ah that’ll be Mick’s youngest boy. Had eight kids Mick O’Grady did. One died in a car accident. But a good family I hear that. That Gobnait’s a smart kid; you’ll do good to stick with him.” Shamus paused and tilted his head to one side, looking at Jason. “Anything else happen?”
Jason wiped his mouth and milk moustache with the back of his hand and placed the empty glass in the kitchen sink.
“Um, yeah I sort of got into a fight at break time. I never hit anyone I just bent his arm back.” Jason struggled with the words. His own father would be furious if he got into a fight because of the damage he could do. Shamus, however, didn’t know of his skills.
“I have friends everywhere. We heard it was with one of the McGinty boys. Tough lot they are. Did you get hurt much? When I heard it was with one of them well, I thought you would be coming home black and blue. What with you being so…” he paused. “You know.”
“No?” Jason asked. He felt annoyed by the tone Shamus used and not sure what he was insinuating.
“Well I’m guessing you’ve been living with a posh family. You have a slightly upper crust accent not all the time but now and again you drop out something and you still sleep with a teddy. I just assumed you were a…” He paused again, trying to get the correct words. “Well, you know, the gentle type of lad.”
Jason paused in deep thought. He realized Shamus was smarter than he gave him credit for. Of course I sound posh. My father’s an officer in the Royal Navy, my girlfriend is a princess, and I go to one of England’s top private schools. I speak properly but I guess it sounds posh to some, he said to himself.
“Charlie Teddy is the only family I have, after going from home to home. It’s nice to have one thing that’s always the same. Haden McGinty tried to hit me, I dodged and caught his arm and bent it back. It was not a real fight. I’m sorry. I won’t get in a fight again.”
Jason Steed Royal Decree Page 2