Lucky Break

by Rob Stevens

  I went into my room expecting to see Arnold getting some much-needed practice on FIFA. But my room was empty.

  I sneaked up the landing and knocked on the bathroom door. The door swung open a couple of inches and I peered inside. Empty.

  Then I heard a sort of wooden clunk from Mum and Dad’s room. As I approached I saw Arnold. He was standing next to my dad’s bedside table just inside the doorway. In his hand was a shiny gold watch, which he was admiring in the light coming through the large sash window.

  ‘Er, what are you doing?’ I said calmly.

  Arnold turned to face me. He didn’t look embarrassed or surprised, he just smiled. ‘This is a cool watch,’ he said. ‘How much did it cost?’

  ‘Put it back.’

  ‘I’m just looking at it. Must be worth thousands.’

  ‘I said put it back.’

  Without any sense of urgency Arnold placed the watch carefully back on the bedside table.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing in my parents’ room?’ I demanded.

  ‘The door was open and I happened to notice the watch. I just stepped in to check it out. I really like watches – my dad used to have a nice watch.’

  ‘Arnold.’

  Arnold studied my face carefully. ‘Wait, are you annoyed?’

  ‘No, not at all. I’m absolutely fine with you snooping around my parents’ bedroom.’ I stepped towards Arnold, clapped and waved both hands in his face. He turned away and I felt immediately guilty for reacting aggressively.

  ‘Look,’ I said calmly. ‘You can’t just come in here and look at my dad’s watch.’

  ‘OK.’ Arnold frowned. ‘What else should I look at?’

  ‘I mean you can’t come in here, full stop.’

  ‘Why not, question mark?’

  I couldn’t help smiling at Arnold’s quizzical expression – the comical way he cocked his head to one side when he was confused.

  I smiled briefly. ‘We’d better go back to my room,’ I said. ‘In case someone sees you.’

  Arnold followed me out of the room and I closed the bedroom door behind us. Safely hidden away in my room we turned on my Xbox. Sitting side by side we faced the screen waggling controls and tapping buttons with our thumbs.

  ‘When am I going to meet your parents?’ Arnold asked. ‘I’d really like to meet them.’

  Surprised, I turned to look at him but he just stared at the TV. ‘When the time is right,’ I said. ‘Soon. Probably not tonight, but soon.’

  Later, I left Arnold playing Minecraft and crept downstairs to get some food. From halfway down the stairs I could see Mum and Olivia through the kitchen doorway. I sat down and watched them between the banisters, listening.

  ‘I don’t mind about the phone though,’ Olivia said. ‘It’s all covered on insurance anyway.’

  ‘I know, but that’s not the point, Olivia.’

  ‘What is then?’

  ‘The point is that he was playing cricket in the garden for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘It’s not like he robbed a bank or anything.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Just that it’s not exactly the worst thing he could have done.’

  ‘He succeeded in smashing a window. Who knows what other damage he might have done – to the house or himself.’

  ‘Is it really that dangerous?’

  ‘What if he’d slipped on the grass and hit his head on the patio? Or knocked himself unconscious with the ball and fallen face-first into the pond?’

  Olivia turned away from Mum to load a plate in the dishwasher and mumbled to herself, ‘Not to mention being hit by a meteorite or struck by lightning.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Mum asked sharply.

  Olivia turned and gave Mum a placating smile. ‘It wouldn’t hurt him to get into a bit of trouble every now and then.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘He’s a teenage boy, Mum. They’re supposed to get into trouble – that’s what they do. Lenny was a little rascal – he used to get into trouble all the time.’

  ‘And look what happened to him.’ My mum’s voice was brittle.

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ Olivia said softly. ‘Lenny wasn’t killed because he was a rascal. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was an accident.’

  Mum said nothing for a moment. She plucked a tissue from the flowery box on the shelf and wiped her eyes. ‘You’re right,’ she said quietly. ‘But I’m Leon’s mother and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to him.’

  ‘Whatever it takes?’ Olivia said. ‘Even if that means stifling every drop of his exuberance and enthusiasm?’

  Mum was silent for a moment then her voice was hard. ‘If that’s what it takes, yes.’

  Olivia left the kitchen and started climbing the stairs. She didn’t notice me sitting there until she was nearly on top of me.

  ‘You scared me,’ she smiled.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Thanks for sticking up for me.’

  My sister shrugged. ‘She’ll chill out – one day.’

  ‘Hope so. Listen – is there any chance you can do me a couple of massive favours. They’re really important.’

  ‘Before you ask, I’m not putting in a good word for you with Hannah.’

  I feigned disappointment. ‘Oh well – can you meet me in the Square tomorrow at two-thirty instead? It’s really important.’

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed. ‘What for?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘Are you in some kind of trouble?’

  ‘No – honestly. It’s nothing like that. I’ve planned something – it’s sort of a surprise. A nice surprise hopefully.’

  ‘OK – I love surprises. I’ll be there.’

  ‘Great – thanks, Livs.’

  ‘What was the other favour?’

  I smiled sheepishly. ‘Can you lend me forty quid?’

  ‘Forty quid? What for?’

  ‘For the surprise.’

  ‘Listen, Leon,’ Olivia sighed, ‘I’m happy to stick up for you with Mum but I have to say you seem to be acting slightly strange at the moment. Sneaking around, breaking windows and now borrowing money. Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘I’m fine. I promise. I’m not involved in anything dodgy – I just need to borrow some money. Please, Livs.’

  ‘You haven’t got a secret Haribo habit, have you?’ My sister placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘I’ll help you through it, but you have to want to give up.’

  ‘Very funny. I’ll pay you back – I promise.’

  Olivia nodded earnestly. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  After a late night playing Rainbow Six Siege on Xbox, Arnold and I woke at nine-thirty.

  The house was quiet. I sneaked downstairs first and when I was sure we were alone I went back up for Arnold. We filled two bowls with Rice Krispies and, taking our breakfast into the lounge, we plonked ourselves down on the sofa and I switched on the TV.

  ‘So where are we at?’ I said, spooning cereal into my mouth.

  ‘Er – in your house?’ Arnold replied uncertainly.

  ‘I mean about the tickets and everything. What time did you say you had to call that lady back?’

  ‘She said ten-thirty.’ Arnold checked his watch.

  ‘Do you think she’ll have them?’ I asked. I was feeling agitated, talking quickly.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But what do you think?’

  ‘I think I don’t know.’

  ‘Did she say she’d probably come up trumps or she might come up trumps?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which one? Probably or might?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘How did she sound?’

  ‘A bit like this,’ said Arnold in a high-pitched, trembling voice.

  ‘I mean, did she sound hopeful?’

  ‘I don’t know. Do a hopeful voice and I’ll tell you if it sounds like her.’


  ‘Uugh, we’ve got no chance have we?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well so far, you, me and Olivia are the only people who are definitely available for the match so I need to find a way of getting my parents to meet me to go to a game we haven’t yet got tickets for and even if there are tickets available we haven’t got enough money to pay for them.’

  ‘There’s always Mr Miller.’

  ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘The man whose wallet we handed in. There might be a reward – you should ring Sergeant McIntosh and ask.’

  ‘Yeah – and pigs might fly.’

  I immediately felt bad about snapping at Arnold. And for deliberately using a metaphor to confuse him. I slumped back on the sofa and grabbed my phone, just for something to do. I noticed I had a text and a voicemail.

  I dialled the voicemail number and listened. The message had been left earlier that morning when my phone was on silent. It was from a local landline.

  ‘Good morning, Leon.’ It was Sergeant McIntosh. She had that tone of voice people use when they’re about to give some good news. Maybe Arnold had been right after all. ‘Mr Miller came into the station to collect his wallet this morning and he was very grateful. Very grateful indeed.’ This is it, I thought. Cash or tickets! Cash or tickets! ‘He didn’t offer any material reward but he did insist I pass on his immense gratitude …’ I hung up. In a few days I might appreciate Mr Miller’s gratitude but at that precise moment my needs were very much material. My mood had nosedived as I opened up my text message.

  It was from Olivia. It said,

  Hey Leon. I’ve put the money in the pocket of your Puffa.

  Don’t spend it all on Haribo. X

  Suddenly my mood was lifted. Apart from the news that we actually had enough money to buy the tickets (if any were actually available) it occurred to me how fortunate I was to have a sister who looked out for me. Fortunate wasn’t a feeling I’d had much of lately.

  I went out to the hallway and delved into my Puffa pockets, returning to the lounge with two twenty-pound notes.

  ‘Look at this,’ I said brightly. ‘Courtesy of my sister.’

  Arnold grinned. ‘What a cool sister.’

  ‘Yup,’ I said, sitting down again. ‘I know.’

  Picking up the Sky remote, I began flicking through the channels in search of something we would both enjoy. To be honest I had no idea what sort of TV show Arnold would like so I paused briefly on each channel to see if he would express any interest. It seemed that Arnold was just going to keep munching, whatever channel came on. So instead of waiting long enough for him to speak up I started playing this game with myself where I tried to see how quickly I could work out what the programme was about. On average I reckoned I could guess what was going on, on the basis of a two-second clip. In such a short snapshot I identified:

  Sky news interviewing a politician about hospital waiting times

  A cartoon about a team of animal superheroes

  A programme about old people selling stuff they’d found in their attic

  An American comedy about high school kids with magical powers

  Something on the local news about a robbery at Lloyd’s bank on Market Street

  A show about people thinking of emigrating to Australia

  SpongeBob SquarePants

  Some sort of current affairs … WHOA!

  Working my thumb as quickly as I could I flicked back to the local news report.

  ‘Hey,’ Arnold protested. ‘I love SpongeBob.’

  ‘Ssshhh!’ I hissed, my eyes transfixed by the face on the screen. It was an egg-shaped face sprouting thick black whiskers with a black smear on each cheek.

  ‘Yeah, they came into my shop yesterday,’ said the man on the TV, his beady eyes darting between the camera and the interviewer. ‘There was two of them – one average, the other tall and solid. They were just kids. Barely teenagers. They bought a whole bunch of blankets and a balaclava. Probably the one they were wearing when they did the bank job.’

  ‘Hey,’ Arnold yelped, dribbling milk and soggy Rice Krispies into his lap. ‘That looks just like the guy from the army surplus store.’

  ‘That’s because it is the guy from the army surplus store.’

  ‘What’s he—?’

  ‘Just listen.’

  The TV reporter asked, ‘Did the two suspects say they were planning to hold up a bank?’

  The man shook his egghead. ‘I could just tell. When you’ve got as much experience as I have in combat situations you pick up a sort of sixth sense. You can smell an insurgent a mile away.’

  ‘I see.’ The reporter nodded wisely. ‘And have you seen active service yourself?’

  The shop assistant looked into the camera, then at the reporter and back to the camera. He rolled his chin as if his collar was suddenly too tight. Then, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he said, ‘Not in the actual army, no. But I have got a Purple Heart on Call of Duty.’

  The news report cut to a shot of the journalist standing outside the bank.

  ‘It was at this small branch of Lloyd’s bank on Market Street that the attempted robbery took place yesterday afternoon at approximately 4.32 p.m. Two individuals, believed to be male youths, entered the bank through the main door. The one wearing a black balaclava to protect his identity proceeded to the teller’s window where he demanded money. When the brave teller – young Amy Whitlock – refused, the suspect grew agitated. When Amy went to inform her manager, the suspect announced that he was holding up the bank. This CCTV footage shows the terrifying moment a handful of innocent bystanders were caught in the middle of the attempted robbery.’

  The grainy black-and-white film was taken from a camera that must have been mounted above the entrance to the bank. It showed Arnold and me marching past the queue and straight up to the teller window. When Arnold turned to address the queue the young mum clutched her child towards her and a man at the back scurried to the door.

  The report cut back to the journalist. ‘Shortly before attempting to rob the bank, the two suspects were spotted distributing blankets to homeless people at the bus depot. One homeless man who received some blankets yesterday identified himself as Mr Cheeseman but couldn’t confirm the identity of the mystery pair. When I spoke to him he would only say that he had received the blankets from people he considered “dear friends”.’

  I felt a strange surge of emotion hearing that Mr Cheeseman had described us as friends. I hadn’t realised how anxious I’d been about the cross words we’d exchanged at the bus depot.

  The reporter continued, ‘Police believe the two suspects may have paid for the blankets with the proceeds of an earlier crime, although none has so far been reported.’

  The reporter turned to Detective Inspector Woolly. ‘It is mere speculation,’ said a nervous-looking police officer, ‘but, at this present moment in time, we are working on the possibility that the pair are embarking on a Robin Hood crime spree to protest about social injustice and raise awareness about the plight of homeless people.’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ I said, as the reporter handed back to the studio. ‘We’re the Robin Hood Robbers.’

  ‘Cool,’ Arnold grinned.

  ‘What do you think we should do?’

  He looked at me and shrugged. ‘Xbox?’

  ‘I mean about being the Robin Hood Robbers.’

  ‘What? Like should we rob from the rich and give to the poor?’

  ‘No,’ I said, feeling myself getting stressed. ‘I mean should we hand ourselves in?’

  ‘But we haven’t done anything,’ he said. ‘There was no robbery and we bought those blankets ourselves out of our winnings.’

  ‘Winnings we got from underage gambling on a fruit machine.’

  ‘It’s not like we stole the Crown Jewels or anything though …’

  Reluctantly I let myself be persuaded by Arnold’s logic. We hadn’t actually committed any crime so there was nothing to feel guilty about.
Instead of worrying any more about whether we were doing the right thing or not I decided to get a glass of apple juice.

  As I entered the kitchen I noticed someone had left the fridge door open. I didn’t think I’d done it. I’m normally pretty good at shutting it because Mum goes off on one if I leave it open for even a moment while I think about what I fancy. For her any visit to the fridge has to be like an SAS raid – in, out, job done. Dad was the only one who ever stood at the fridge with the door open and he was always getting it from Mum for doing it.

  Anyway I was just about to push the fridge door to when it shut by itself. Well, that’s what it looked like except as it closed I saw Dad standing behind it.

  ‘Whoa, you scared me,’ I said, laughing. Already I was wondering how to keep him out of the lounge.

  ‘Who did you think I was, the fridge burglar?’ My dad looked tired, but he was freshly spruced as usual – wearing a polo shirt and chinos. He smiled brightly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘No,’ I shook my head gravely. ‘But I am going to have to arrest you though for loitering in front of an open fridge and drinking from a family-sized juice carton.’

  ‘Guilty as charged.’ He held up his hands. ‘Don’t tell Mum – she’ll have me breaking rocks in a Siberian gulag.’

  ‘OK, I’ll let it go just this once.’ I wagged my finger. ‘But don’t let me catch you breaking the law again.’

  ‘Thank you, officer.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Mum?’ I asked, remembering her promise to tell Dad about the broken window.

  ‘What about?’ Dad asked, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘Nothing in particular,’ I said innocently.

  Dad shook his head. ‘I got home late last night and your mum left before I woke this morning. I think she’s out doing her road safety thing.’

  ‘What are you up to today?’

  ‘I’m playing golf with some clients.’ He checked his watch – a chunky black one with orange numbers. ‘I’d better get a move on. I don’t want to miss my tee-off time.’

  I watched him walk to the utility room where he sat on the bench to put on his shoes.