by Kim Slater
He slid out from the end of the settee. I wanted to pull him back but he had already gone.
It freed up some space so I could reach my inhaler. I took two puffs of it and my breathing got easier.
Karwana crept over and peered at Scarface through the tiny gap in the door. Then he tiptoed back to the settee.
‘Come on, Keer-Ron,’ he whispered. ‘When I give the word, we run straight past him and out of the door. OK?’
I nodded. I’d put Jean’s ring and Colin’s medal back where we found them. If we removed the evidence, the police wouldn’t be able to prove that Scarface really was the thief . . . and Colin’s killer.
I crept over to join Karwana by the living-room door.
‘Now!’ Karwana flung open the door and we rushed into the kitchen. I stayed right behind him.
Scarface dropped his pizza in shock.
‘What the—’
Karwana pushed him out of the way and grabbed at the door latch.
Scarface turned really quickly and hit me in the face.
I felt blood trickling down from my nose.
Karwana thought I was still behind him and ran outside.
Scarface grabbed me by the throat and started to bang my head against the wall.
‘Why are you here?’ he screamed.
‘We came for Jean’s ring,’ I managed between gulps of breath.
‘You little swine,’ he cursed. ‘I’ve got a special contact lined up to buy that ring and the old geezer’s medal. Pity it wasn’t a mobile or an iPad. They’re much easier to get rid of.’
His grip tightened on my neck.
I tried to scream but my breath was draining away. I needed my inhaler.
Scarface’s eyes were crazy mad and his face started to blur in front of me. The sea sound was roaring in my ears, his mouth was moving but I couldn’t hear what he was saying any more.
I saw the shape of Karwana rush back in and grab something from the worktop.
He brought it down on the back of Scarface’s head with a big crack.
Scarface’s eyes went big and wide then he sort of toppled back and slid down the opposite wall.
Next thing, Karwana was pushing my inhaler towards my face.
I took a puff.
Breathe.
Another one.
‘Are you OK, Keer-Ron?’
I nodded and wiped the blood from my nose.
‘Is he dead?’ My voice was all raspy.
‘No, he is breathing,’ said Karwana. He still had the saucepan in his hand.
‘Come quickly. We must get out while we can,’ he said.
We ran out of the cul-de-sac and on to the next street.
I stopped to use my inhaler, then we ran again until we got to the edge of the estate.
Karwana had to go home.
‘I don’t want to go but my mother will worry,’ he said. ‘Will you be OK, Keer-Ron?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
I felt much better now my breathing was back to normal but we were both worried that Scarface could come after us
Karwana would be safe at home because Scarface didn’t know who he was. But Scarface had seen me, and he would probably go straight to my house and tell Tony what I’d done when he woke up.
I knew exactly what I had to do.
‘I’m going to the hostel,’ I told Karwana. ‘They will ring the police.’
When I got to the hostel, the lady on the front desk said, ‘It’s not a free-for-all here, you know.’
I used all my politeness skills.
‘I’m sorry to bother you. Please could I speak to Jean or Stephen?’
She looked back down at her magazine.
‘Don’t take all night,’ she said.
Jean was sitting with Old Billy.
‘I know where your son’s ring is, Jean,’ I said. I felt all out of breath.
She opened her mouth, closed it again and then burst into tears.
‘Ye haven’t much luck wi’ the ladies, laddie,’ laughed Old Billy.
‘I need to tell the police where to find it,’ I said.
‘Where is it?’ She stood up and grabbed my arms which made me go stiff like I was made of stone.
‘It’s at Scarface’s bedsit,’ I said, struggling to get free. ‘And guess what else we found?’
I told her about Karwana finding Colin’s medal.
‘That murdering toerag!’ she cried.
Old Billy shouted Stephen over.
He came and stood next to me. He asked me what had happened, but I could hardly speak to him. Jean and Old Billy told him about Scarface’s bedsit and he rang the police on his mobile phone.
I looked at his face up close. His eyes, his nose, his mouth. I wondered which bits of him looked like my dad.
He put his hand on my shoulder and walked me a little way from Jean.
‘Your mum’s told you who I am, hasn’t she?’
I nodded. All I could do was stare at him.
‘I’ve tried to see you for years,’ he said. ‘I wanted to be part of your life but it’s been difficult for your mum. She’s always been worried that Tony wouldn’t allow it.’
I took a breath and forced myself to speak.
‘I found your birthday cards in Mum’s handbag,’ I said.
‘I sent you one every year without fail,’ he said. ‘Then your mum met Tony and we lost touch. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you at the hostel.’
‘Are you really my uncle?’ I said.
He nodded. ‘I’ve got lots of photos of your dad, and some of both of you, when you were just a baby. When this trouble is sorted out, you can come over and meet your cousin, Bradley. He’s my lad.’
If you breathe in too much oxygen, it makes you feel light-headed. That was how I felt at that second. It felt like I was floating away from everything that was bad.
All the photographs that Tony had burned didn’t matter as much now. My uncle had got lots more of me and Dad. It felt like he was real again in my mind and not just an outline with no filling-in.
‘You’re the spitting image of him,’ Stephen said. ‘No matter what anybody might have said about him, he loved you more than life.’
I was going to get to know my own dad again in a different way.
I wanted to talk to Stephen more about him.
I wanted to ask stuff like, What were his favourite foods, and what television programmes did he like to watch? What did his voice sound like? Did he like football?
Then two police officers came. One had stripes on his shoulders, which meant he was quite high up. Everyone in the hostel stopped what they were doing and watched them walk over to us.
The lady on the desk showed the policemen to an office at the back they could use.
Me and Jean went in, and between us, we told them the story from the day I found Colin’s body in the river.
‘Can you describe this man?’ said the boss policeman. His badge said Sergeant Bream.
‘He can do better than that,’ said Jean. ‘The lad’s an artistic genius.’
I got my sketchpad out and showed them the photofit sketch and the second drawing I’d done of Scarface without his hat, when he’d attacked Jean.
‘Are you trying to say you’ve drawn these?’ The other policeman frowned. ‘We haven’t got time for daft games, lad.’
I told them about Jean’s stolen ring and Colin’s badge. About how we’d left them where we found them and made sure we didn’t touch anything without gloves on so we wouldn’t contaminate the evidence. Then I gave them the address of Scarface’s bedsit.
They wanted Karwana’s address too, to check things out with him.
‘It looks like you’ve been roughed up pretty bad,’ said Sergeant Bream, looking at the dried blood around my nose.
‘He tried to strangle me,’ I said. ‘Karwana managed to stop him with a saucepan.’
The policemen went outside to radio in. They asked me and Jean to wait at the hostel.
The clock
on the wall kept on ticking through the minutes. Me and Jean ran out of things to say. The police had been outside ages and there was still no sign of them.
‘They don’t believe us,’ said Jean.
Stephen brought us both a cup of tea.
‘Wow,’ he said when he saw my drawing on the table. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘He’s a brilliant artist,’ said Jean. ‘He can draw anything.’
‘My brother could draw like this,’ he said, and winked at me.
I felt bad I’d felt nasty towards my own uncle when he’d kept looking at me, before. Now he was keeping our secret safe until we could talk properly.
It was nearly an hour before the policemen came back into the hostel and sat down with us again. Uncle Stephen left the room.
‘Our colleagues have located the bedsit you told us about, Kieran,’ Sergeant Bream said. ‘They have apprehended a somewhat dazed man there.’
‘Scarface,’ I said.
DC Bream coughed.
‘His real name is Jason Bryant. A local loan-shark already known to us, who preys on vulnerable people,’ he said. ‘He lost his temper when our officers asked him about Colin’s death. He assumed we had a witness, claimed Colin fell in the water when he tried to snatch his bag from him to get an overdue payment. Says it wasn’t his fault Colin couldn’t swim.’
‘Murdering toerag,’ Jean said, again.
Sergeant Bream scowled at me. ‘You and I need to have a chat about things, young man,’ he said. ‘Although you’ve managed to uncover some information that’s very relevant to our current investigations, you can’t just go around barging into people’s homes and carrying out unofficial searches.’
‘I know,’ I said, looking at the table. ‘But the door was open and I’d seen him attacking Jean when he stole her ring.’
He pressed his lips into a tight, straight line. ‘Bryant gave us some other, very interesting information we need to follow up on as a matter of urgency,’ he said. ‘Are your parents at home?’
I felt my face flush red.
‘Mum and Tony don’t know what’s happened,’ I said. ‘Why do you need to speak to them?’
My heart hammered inside my chest. Tony was going to go mental when the police told him I’d grassed up his visitor, Scarface. I didn’t want to go back to the house, ever.
Jean touched my hand and looked at the policemen.
‘Things can be difficult for him at home,’ she said, but they were busy writing stuff down.
Everything was ruined. When the police had gone away again and there was just me left, Tony would do something really, really bad. He would hurt me and Mum.
‘I need the toilet,’ I said, and stood up.
‘Don’t take too long,’ Sergeant Bream said. ‘We’ve got other crimes that need solving too. We’ve no plans to be here all night.’
I walked out of the small, stuffy office and back into the big room. Everybody out there looked up, waiting for me to say something but I just kept my head down and headed for the door.
I heard Stephen shouting me over but I just carried on walking. I didn’t want my uncle-secret being ruined by screaming arguments back at the house.
I thought about what Tony would do to me if the police took me home. He would definitely think I’d grassed him up about Tyson. He would be very angry with me and Mum.
My heart squeezed inwards on itself, until it felt tight and small.
The cool, damp air stuck in my throat when I got outside. I wished I could sick up all the worries. Most of all, I wished I could run without stopping all the way back to the hospital, to see Grandma.
‘Kieran!’
I glanced back and saw one of the policemen stepping out of the hostel entrance.
I started to walk really fast. Then faster. Until I was running and dodging into the back streets, where they couldn’t catch me.
If they think I’ve run away, maybe they won’t go to the house and speak to Tony, I told myself. If I can get back home first, I can whisper to Mum about what happened and we can get out of the house.
I didn’t want any more trouble.
And, more than anything, I didn’t want Tony to hurt Mum because of what I’d done.
The policemen didn’t follow me home, so I thought everything would be OK.
It was not OK.
When I turned the corner of the street, there were two police cars already outside our house.
I stood for a moment to think. I had my notebook and sketchpad. I had my letter and photograph from Martin Brunt at Sky News. I even had my pencil box. I knew where Grandma was, so I didn’t have to go back into the house - I could run away for good.
And then I remembered.
Mum was in there.
I crept along the path at the side of the house and peered round the corner, through the back kitchen window.
There were a bunch of policemen in the kitchen. It was the first time I’d seen Tony and Ryan looking scared. Mum stood in the corner, her back pressed against the wall like she’d been glued to it.
The back door was half open and I could hear Tony saying, ‘I’ve told you, I’m clean. I don’t know even know a Jason Bryant.’ He turned and glared at Mum. ‘Well, tell them, woman, don’t just bleeping stand there.’
My mum opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again.
‘For God’s sake, back me up!’ His eyes narrowed at her and I could see his knuckles gleaming white through the skin stretched tight above them.
I wanted to turn round and run but I could never leave my mum.
I squeezed in the kitchen behind the uniforms and shut the door behind me.
I’m not supposed to go in the kitchen when visitors come but I really wanted to see the policemen up close. They looked tougher than Sergeant Bream. I wished I had one of their belts with all the cop-stuff hanging down from it.
‘Get out,’ Tony said, and clenched his teeth together. His eyes were darting about. Ryan stood in the hall doorway. He looked pale and stared at the floor.
I felt brave with the policemen there.
‘I want to stay with Mum,’ I said.
Tony pointed straight at me. ‘I said out, retard.’
‘That’s not a very nice way to speak to him, Tony,’ one of the policeman said, smiling at me. ‘He looks a nice enough lad. What’s your name, son?’
‘Kieran,’ I said, looking at his belt. There were some impressive things on there that could stop Tony in his tracks if he lunged for me.
Tony was staring at me really hard. He didn’t say anything but I knew the words in his head were, Get out, retard. Get out.
My mum looked down at the floor. Her bony fingers pulled and twisted against each other. She looked thin and small next to Tony’s big, podgy frame.
I didn’t move.
‘You look like a helpful lad,’ the policeman said, patting his belt. ‘Maybe we can ask you a few questions.’
‘No way!’ Tony was really mad with the policeman now. He looked mad at me too. ‘You’re not allowed to talk to him. You can see he’s not right in the head. Nothing he says means anything.’
‘Miss Crane says you should help the police if you can,’ I said.
‘It’s a pity everybody around here doesn’t think that,’ said one of the policemen, and the other uniforms laughed. Tony and Ryan didn’t join in.
‘Kieran looks a smart lad,’ the first policeman said. It seemed to me like he was in charge. ‘We’re just asking your dad and brother a few questions.’
‘They’re not my real dad and brother,’ I said.
I could see the top of the baton. It was in its own leather sheath with a press-stud fastening. When he turned to say something to one of the others, I saw the handcuffs.
‘So . . .’ The policeman talked slower and louder than before. He was talking to Tony but looking at me. ‘You don’t sell drugs from this house, Tony?’
The policeman was trying to gain my confidence so I would tell him what he want
ed to know. It was a well-known way of getting information that I’d seen on CSI.
Sometimes, when they got what they wanted, the police just left the scene. It meant that if I told them what I knew, they might leave, and then me and Mum would have to face Tony on our own.
Then one of the other policemen said, ‘I wonder if anyone has seen people come to the door and give money to Tony in exchange for stuff? That would help us a lot.’
‘Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!’ yelled Tony.
I knew exactly why Tony didn’t want to tell the police about his visitors, but I wasn’t supposed to say anything. I remembered all the times Tony had zipped up his mouth at me and made his hands into fist-shapes.
The head policeman looked at me.
‘What’s in there?’ I pointed to a closed pouch on his belt.
‘This?’ He opened the pouch and pulled something out. ‘This is a flashlight, Kieran. It helps us see when it’s dark or find things that are hidden.’
He looked at Tony, with his mouth set in a mean, pinched line.
‘Where are the rocks, Tony?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Tony said. He didn’t look scared any more.
‘We haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, right, Dad?’ I heard a quiver in Ryan’s voice. He was trying to smile, to show he wasn’t scared, but he just looked silly.
‘That’s right. We’re no wiser than the retard over there,’ Tony said, grinning.
For a few seconds the room went quiet.
Then something amazing happened.
My mum stopped twisting her fingers and looked up from the floor.
‘His name is Kieran.’
Her voice was quiet and a bit shaky but we all looked at her.
‘What did you say?’ Tony was using his warning voice. The one that sounded quiet and calm but meant he was really, really mad.
All the colour had leaked out of Mum’s face, apart from two pink spots in the middle of her cheeks. She never answered Tony back.
‘He’s my son . . . and his name is Kieran,’ she said. ‘Don’t call him a retard.’
‘You . . .’ Tony took a step towards her, even though the police were there.
My mind filled with a flood of pictures.
My mum’s bruised face.
Tyson’s starved body.