by Kim Slater
Spending night after night upstairs, alone in my room.
Someone had to stop Tony hurting people and getting away with it.
I dodged out of the kitchen to the understairs cupboard.
‘Kieran, come back!’ I heard the policeman shout.
I moved the vacuum cleaner and pulled up the rug.
I grabbed the toolbox from under the floorboards and dashed back into the kitchen with it.
‘This is what you’re looking for,’ I said.
‘Shut the—’ Tony jumped towards me and the policemen all jumped on him. Another held Ryan’s arms behind his back. ‘He doesn’t know anything!’
But I did know.
I knew so much more than they thought.
‘The drugs are in little bags in here,’ I said, shaking the toolbox. ‘Both their fingerprints will be all over the stuff. Forensics will have no trouble finding them.’
Mum stood with her hands covering her mouth looking at the toolbox.
‘What’s this? You’ve been selling drugs from the house – from our home?’
‘They come when you’re at work, Mum,’ I said.
‘Are you saying you knew nothing about this?’ the head policeman said to Mum.
Tony gave a hard, wicked laugh.
‘Are you joking? Neither of them know anything about my business deals,’ he spat. ‘They’re both thick as pig-muck. Like mother, like son.’
I took a deep breath and said the words quickly so I couldn’t change my mind.
‘The definition of “stupid” is giving the police a full confession without even realizing you’ve done it.’
Tony’s face turned puce and he made to take a step towards me before my words sank in and the colour drained from his cheeks.
‘Very useful, sir,’ said one of the policemen, brandishing handcuffs and grinning. ‘Why don’t you come down to the station and tell us more about your “business deals”, eh?’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ Ryan mumbled, backing into the hallway. ‘He made me fill the bags; I didn’t know what the stuff was.’
‘You’re nearly seventeen years old, son,’ said the first policeman, frowning. ‘Pull the other one.’
The whole kitchen erupted into a sea of thrashing arms and hands as the police surrounded Tony and Ryan. I shuffled along the wall and stood next to Mum and she reached for my hand and held it tight. When I looked up at her face, her eyes were squeezed shut but tears were still spilling down her cheeks.
Ryan just stood quietly and let them cuff him. He looked over at me once but his eyes were wide and glazed, not glaring and mad.
Tony was screaming so loud, I couldn’t even understand what he was saying.
But I wasn’t even scared of his noise any more.
Mum and I stood back as the police carted Tony, kicking and screaming, out of the door. Only one policeman escorted Ryan. He was crying like a little boy.
I felt a knot in my stomach. I wondered if me and Ryan could’ve been friends if Tony had let me teach him how to draw.
‘Wait,’ Ryan said, when he got to the door. He mumbled something to the policeman, who looked around Ryan’s back and reached up to feel along the top of one of the kitchen cupboards.
He looked at what was in his hand and looked at Ryan.
‘Give it to him,’ said Ryan, nodding.
I held out my hand and the policeman dropped something into it.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, starting to cry again.
Then the policeman walked him out of the house.
I looked down at my open hand. It was the missing sharpener from my pencil box.
Miss Crane always says that a good story should have a beginning, a middle and an end. The beginning was when I found Colin’s body in the river. The middle was when Tony lost his job and started having his visitors. This next bit is the end.
The nurses had taken all the tubes and pipes away and Grandma sat propped up with pillows, in bed.
‘So, Tony and Ryan were arrested and taken away by the police ?’ she said, sipping her tea.
I nodded. Uncle Stephen had dropped me and Mum off at the hospital and I got to tell Grandma all the details.
Tony was swearing and fighting back, but the policemen just flipped him into the yard like a rag doll.’
‘And Ryan?’
‘He was sad,’ I said. The policeman said he might have to go to a young offenders’ institute for a while because he knew full well what he was doing when he helped his dad.’
‘Serves him right,’ said Grandma, ‘the way he treated you.’
I wrapped my hand round the pencil sharpener in my pocket.
‘I think he was as scared of Tony as I was,’ I said quietly.
The nurse wrote something down on her clipboard.
‘You’re doing well, Gladys,’ she said. ‘Looks like you’ll be home in a day or so.’
I could tell Mum was happy about that, even though she’d been really quiet since Tony’s arrest at the house.
Grandma reached over and touched Mum’s hand.
‘Everything is going to be fine.’
Mum nodded.
‘Where has your voice gone, Mum?’ I asked her, when the nurse had left. ‘You’re hardly saying anything.’
Mum didn’t answer.
‘They’ve already allocated me a new council house, so start packing,’ Grandma said. She was trying to fill the quiet spaces with good thoughts.
Grandma meant that we were going to live with her again, like we did before Tony.
The bed-and-breakfast Uncle Stephen had paid for us to stay in was tiny and we had to share the bathroom with other people, including the man upstairs who left wee on the seat.
I had to get the bus to school each day. Still, it was tons better than living with Tony and Ryan.
I looked at Mum. She looked small, like a little lost bird, sitting in the chair.
‘Will it be OK?’ I asked Grandma again.
‘It will,’ Grandma answered. ‘Your mum is going to be my carer and you’ll concentrate on getting top grades at school so you can work for the Evening Post, like you’ve always dreamed.’
The words sounded great, but the feelings in my tummy didn’t match.
Grandma said maybe Jean and Karwana could come over to the new house for a drink to celebrate our new start. Everything in our lives was suddenly different but it didn’t even feel like it was real yet.
I got spiky jabs of excitement when I thought about the weekend. Uncle Stephen was going to pick me up and take me to his house to meet my new cousin, Bradley.
Things were getting better but it was still taking a long time.
I looked over at Mum.
‘Why are you sad?’ I said.
‘Honestly, I’m OK, Kieran,’ she sighed. ‘Stop worrying.’
It was Mum that looked the most worried, not me. I don’t know why because Tony had gone. The police even told Mum that Tony wouldn’t get bail as he had ‘previous’. That means he’s already got a police record.
‘Things will be OK,’ I said.
I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure about this, but I did a good job of sounding like it. I hoped it would help Mum if she was feeling a bit scared.
Mum didn’t answer.
‘Sometimes, people think they need somebody else to make it in this life.’ Grandma winked at me. ‘But you have to remember that the one person you can truly always rely on is yourself.’
‘You can rely on me too, Mum,’ I said.
I leaned over and gave my mum a hug. I didn’t even feel like a statue.
‘I know,’ she said, and smiled again. This time it was a real one.
I closed my eyes and painted a picture of the moment, in my mind.
All the matchstick people in this painting were good. Nobody was running in different directions and there was no one to call me dumb or hurt my mum any more.
Laurence Stephen Lowry once said, You don’t need brains to paint, just fe
elings.
I know exactly what he meant.
I was going to paint some brilliant pictures with my new feelings.
After Tony and Ryan had been taken away, I showed the policeman the list of car registrations I’d copied down in my notebook and all the sketches I’d done of some of Tony’s visitors.
He said I was the smartest kid he’d ever met.
I’d like to give special thanks to my fantastic agent, Clare Wallace, for her enthusiasm and belief in my writing, her invaluable advice and her never-ending support.
Also, a massive thank you to Rachel Kellehar, my editor at Macmillan Children’s Books, for her amazing insight, her genuine love of Smart and for being such a pleasure to work with.
In addition, I would like to thank each and every one of Darley’s Angels at the Darley Anderson Literary Agency for everything they do, particularly Mary Darby, and Vicki le Feuvre for her truly excellent editorial insight and inexhaustible ideas.
Likewise, thank you to the entire MCB team, who are so professional and innovative in their ideas, and especially to publicity manager Catherine Alport, and to the whole of the Design team, who did such an amazing job on the cover.
Last, but never least, my love and thanks go out to my family for their unshakeable belief in me and their love and support. Mackie, Francesca and Mama, you three have shared my writing roller-coaster and I couldn’t have done it without you.
First published 2014 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2014 by Macmillan Children’s Books
a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-4472-6691-4
Copyright © Kim Slater 2014
The right of Kim Slater to be identifed as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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