“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he shouted. Patrick jumped and turned around. He saw Derek standing there and his eyes grew wide. After a few seconds the shock of being yelled at wore off and Patrick’s eyes began to swim with tears. Derek saw his eyes filling up and he became even more enraged.
“You are such a fucking baby Patrick. You need to toughen up. Well, don’t you worry sunshine, I’m gonna teach you how it’s done,” said Derek. He stepped forwards and yanked Patrick to his feet. Tears began to spill down his cheeks.
“Stop fuckin’ crying,” roared Derek and he slapped Patrick on the backside. The shot reverberated round the room and Derek was pleased. Patrick began to cry harder, so Derek swung for the boy’s buttocks again. This time the blow knocked Patrick to the floor and he cried harder. Now he was crying without making a sound, every ounce of breath seemed to be going out of the child’s body. Derek knew that at any second he was going to breathe in again and then howl loud enough to wake Jane up. But he didn’t want Jane to interfere, this was a man thing.
“I said, stop fuckin’ crying, or it’s just gonna get worse and worse for you,” growled Derek. He grabbed the back of Patrick’s paisley patterned pyjamas and yanked them down, exposing his backside. There were two red marks growing on his naked buttocks, signs of a lesson being learned in Derek’s mind. He raised his hand again, ready to bring it down hard on the exposed flesh.
“I’m...gunna...tell....m-m-m-mummy....on...y-y-you,” stuttered Patrick.
Derek’s hand paused. The little bastard was a snitch. Well, he needed to deal with this. He needed to deal with it the same way that Derek had been taught about what happened to snitches. He had once snitched on a tall and scrawny kid called Rendor when he was in his first year of high school. Rendor had stolen a teacher’s purse right out of her handbag and Derek had told the head teacher. Rendor got suspended. Rendor was waiting near the entrance to Hemmington Forest near where Derek grew up. Rendor grabbed Derek and took him deep into the forest and it was in there that Rendor taught Derek what happened to people that snitched. He hurt Derek bad. He didn’t just hurt Derek’s body but he hurt him deep in the darkest corners of his mind. Rendor had told him that he would never be safe, that he would always be watching to see if he would ever be a snitch again. If he snitched again, Rendor would come for him. Derek had never told another tale since that day. Even now Rendor was never far from his mind.
Now Derek had a snitch to deal with here. In his warped mind, all he knew was Rendor’s Lesson, and for him it had worked. It was time to pass it on.
He had taught Patrick Rendor’s lesson and afterwards he felt cleansed, almost as if the curse had been passed on. He was no longer the one looking over his shoulder, because he was the one doing the teaching.
Later that day, Jane had found Patrick sitting alone in his room. He hadn’t wanted anything to eat at lunch time and she had been worried that he might be coming down with something. She was going to ask Derek if he had noticed anything wrong with him, but he was watching the football and he was more than five beers in. Anything beyond four beers and it wasn’t wise to disturb Derek. She went upstairs and into Patricks room where she had found him reading a comic book. His skin was an ashen colour and his eyes looked like he hadn’t slept for three days. She went and sat on the bed with him and gently took the comic off him.
“What’s the matter sweetie?” she said.
Patrick said nothing, he began wringing his hands and looking anywhere but at Jane.
“If there is something wrong Patty, you know you can talk to me.”
Again nothing, but Patricks eyes began to glisten with tears. Jane took his hands in hers.
“Listen to me Patty, listen good. If there is something wrong, you need to tell me and then I can put it right. I’m not going to get mad at you and I’m not going to shout at you O.K?”
Patricks bottom lip began to tremble. “Are you going to hit me?”
Jane’s mouth dropped open, “Patty, I would never hit you, not ever. Do you understand?”
Patrick nodded slowly. Tears began to pour down his face.
“Now, you need to tell me what’s happened and then we can put things right O.K?”
Patrick nodded again. He began hitching in sobs and then he looked at Jane. “Dewick hurt me. He hit my bottom,” he said and then he dropped his face into his hands. He had snitched. But Jane had told him she could sort it out, and he believed her.
Jane got Patrick to stand up and she carefully pulled the elasticated waist of his trousers at the back. She saw the ugly purple bruises on Patricks buttocks and then she turned him around to face her.
“Patrick, I’m going to go and sort this out. I want you just to stay up here and read your comics. You might hear some shouting, but I don’t want you to worry. You did the right thing telling me the truth and now I’m going to go and make things right. Do you understand?”
Patrick nodded.
Jane kissed him on his forehead and went out of his room, pulling the door shut behind her. Patrick had done exactly as she had said and climbed back onto his bed and read his comics. He tried to stay as focused on the comics as he could whilst he heard his foster parents roaring at each other. He didn’t know how long it went on for, but to him it seemed like a lifetime. Eventually he heard a whapping noise, not unlike the sound that he had heard this morning when Derek had slapped him on the arse. Then Jane began screaming curse words at the top of voice. Patrick heard the front door bang and for a terrible moment he thought that Jane had gone, leaving him alone with the monster. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and his body tensed, ready to crawl under his bed where the monster Derek couldn’t get him. The door opened and to his relief, Jane was there. She had and angry looking bruise growing under her left eye and there was a think trail of blood coming from one nostril. Patrick gripped his comic tightly. Seeing her that way made him feel the first traces of anger towards Derek. He had hurt the one person that had made him feel happy and wanted.
Jane came and sat next to him. He moved himself over to her so she could put and arm round him and pull him in close to her. She had seen the look of concern on his face.
“Don’t you worry Patty; he’s gone away for now. I told him that what he had done was wrong and that he wasn’t to do it again. If he ever lays a hand on you again, you need to tell me. Do you understand?”
Patrick nodded under her arm.
“Now, why don’t we go downstairs, put some of your films on and have some popcorn.”
“Yeaaahhh,” said Patrick and jumped up into her arms. He loved Jane’s homemade popcorn, it was even better than the stuff you could buy from the shops. Jane had brought down the large quilt off her bed and they had got comfy on the sofa, munching popcorn and watching Patrick’s favourite films until they were both nodding off.
Derek had stayed away for four days, and then he had come back, wearing a suit and tie and carrying the biggest bunch of flowers that Jane had ever seen. Patrick had been sent up to his room so the two of them could talk things through. Patrick had sat on his bed, listening to the soft mumbling of their voices from the kitchen downstairs. He wanted so badly for Derek to go again. He didn’t want him here and he didn’t ever want to have Rendor’s lesson ever again. He hadn’t told Jane about Rendor’s lesson, because it was snitching, and snitches needed to be taught Rendor’s lesson. At least Derek couldn’t do that again. It was two hours before he heard the footsteps on the stairs again and this time when his door opened, both Jane and Derek were standing there, telling him that everything was going to be better from now on.
And it was, for a little while.
But, Derek Boston didn’t forget, oh hell no, he never forgot. He played things HER WAY for a little while, but then gradually things began to turn into HIS WAY again. This time, he made HIS WAY far more strict, after all, he was the one that had to go and stay with his friend for three nights. He had nearly crippled himself on their crap sofa. All the ti
me he had been there he had been plotting how he was going to get things back the way that he liked. The silly bitch and the snitch kid were going to learn all about HIS WAY.
The turning point had been one night exactly two months later when Jane had brought him a beer without cooling it in the fridge for four hours first. He had sipped the piss warm beer, set the bottle down on the table and then blasted his closed fist right at Jane’s nose. It hadn’t just broken; it had been obliterated. Blood had torrented out of her nostrils and had turned the front of her yellow summer dress crimson. He had left her leaning over the kitchen sink, blood pouring out of her nose and catching in the back of her throat, making her cough. Derek had gone out of the room and up to Patrick’s bedroom. He had closed the door behind him. Patrick had been in bed and he had sat up when he heard the door close. He was immediately terrified; he knew that he was in trouble. Derek looked furious. He was sneering at Patrick like a rabid dog and his tongue was caught between his teeth, just the same way he had looked on that fateful Saturday morning.
“You’re a snitch Patrick, and snitches have to be taught a lesson.”
Patrick began to scream; he knew it was Rendor’s lesson. He screamed as hard as he could.
Jane had heard Patrick scream, and that was all she needed to get moving. She had clamped a tea towel round her gushing nose and had accidentally crunched some of the broken bone back into its normal position, which eased some of the immediate pain and stopped her eyes tearing up quite as bad as they had been. She went for the stairs as quick as she could. Her balance was off and she needed to lean against the walls to steady herself. She was going to get up those stairs and stop him hurting Patrick if it killed her. On her way through the living room she knocked the phone off its receiver and dialled 999, she heard a faint voice talking on the handset and she screamed the address and told whoever had picked up that her husband had gone berserk and was beating their son.
She half crawled up the stairs. Patrick screamed again and she felt another burst of adrenaline. She managed to get to Patrick’s room and she pushed the door open. She had heard Derek talk about Rendor’s lesson, but this was the first time she had ever seen it. All the pain she had felt; all the fear she had felt was gone. When she saw what he was doing to her little boy, her angel that had been sent to her, she felt part of her mind break, the part of her that was subservient and from that moment forward, everything about Jane Boston changed forever. She screamed at him to stop and that she had called the police.
Derek had stood up and started walking slowly towards her. The look on his face told her that he was going to kill them both, or even worse keep them both alive and in a life of slavery, a life of HIS WAY. She started to back away, slowly making her way to the bathroom. She knew that Derek had a cutthroat razor in there. If he was going to kill them both then she was going to take as much of that bastard with her as she could.
But then fate intervened.
Derek suddenly stopped in his tracks and clutched at his chest. All the breath in his body rushed out of his mouth. It seemed like it was going to go on forever and Derek’s face was starting to turn an unhealthy shade of scarlet. His legs buckled at the knees and he went down, his eyes looking up at Jane for some sort of help. She knew what was going on, he was having a heart attack. Her own father had gone the same way and she had been there. He had been a bastard too and she had been glad that he had died. Now here she was with Derek the great and wonderful, his venom finally being drawn right here on the landing. She took a step forwards, just out of his reach.
“Hurt does it Derek? Can’t breathe Derek?” she said.
“Gaaa.....gaaa....” was all Derek could say.
“Now you know how it feels, you piece of fucking shit. Now die, and rot in hell.”
“Gaaa.....gaaaa...”said Derek and then he pitched forwards. His head struck the carpeted floor with a hollow crunching sound.
Jane paused for a moment and then slowly and carefully bent down next to Derek. His face was half turned towards her and his eyes were open and staring. She furtively put a hand near his mouth and felt for regular breathing.
There was nothing.
Derek was dead.
The next few hours were something of a whirlwind for Patrick. There were so many people coming and going it was almost impossible to keep track of everyone. Jane needed to go to the hospital, and Patrick began to panic. But Jane held him and told him that he could come along with her. The paramedics were nice to him and told him that Jane would be just fine.
And everything was fine, from that day forwards. Derek was gone and it was just the two of them. They began to build the life that they wanted. Jane never brought another man into the house ever again. They never talked about the night that Derek died, nor did they ever mention Rendor’s lesson.
4.
Jack sat back in his seat. He had listened to Patrick spill the story and he hadn’t even touched his drink. “Jeez Pat, no wonder you didn’t talk about ‘em.” He shook his head and drank some of his forgotten beer.
“Well, now you know, and I don’t have to talk about them again.”
“Amen to that,” said Jack. “Just tell me one more thing Pat, what was Rendor’s Lesson?”
“Some other time Jack,” said Patrick.
Jack nodded and left it at that, he didn’t want to push the issue any more. Patrick was relieved and not surprised by the reaction. Jack was the only person other than Jane that he actually could trust with this kind of information.
They kept on drinking and shooting the shit until about ten pm and then Patrick suddenly felt tired. He told Jack he wanted to get home and get to bed and Jack agreed. Besides, he was hoping that he could get lucky with Lizzy again and he couldn’t do that whilst Patrick was cramping his style. Patrick laughed at him and then stood up to go. Jack gave him a hug and told him with a slight slur in his voice that he was there if he needed him.
“Thanks buddy, I tell you what, I will wait exactly two hours and then I know you will be just on the vinegar stroke with Lizzy,” said Patrick grinning.
“Bro, with a cunt that slack, you better phone me at four in the morning,” said Jack and they both laughed.
Patrick went home. The house seemed just that little bit more empty this time. Almost as if a part of him had gone missing. It was weird, the fact that he didn’t even know his father, but his death seemed to have had a profound effect on him. It was almost as if he had believed deep down in his heart that one day the old bastard was going to come looking for him. That door had now been closed permanently and there was now no hope of ever finding anything out about him. He was going to head up to bed, but his mind was so active that he decided to down a couple more beers to get some serious sedation on the go. He pulled the beers out of the fridge and sat at the kitchen table with them and drank them, enjoying the silence and the calm of his home. After the buzz of the pub it was just a relief to be able to sit and think straight. He was also glad that he had told Jack all about Derek Boston, but equally glad that he hadn’t told him the gory details of Rendor’s Lesson. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could still feel the pain that had been inflicted on him, that deep guttural, humiliating pain that you couldn’t really describe unless you had been through it yourself. Still, he didn’t need to think about it now, there was absolutely no good that could come of that, it was ancient history. He had a good life now and he was going to enjoy every single moment of it.
He stayed in bed until three in the afternoon the next day. The last few days had taken the starch right out of him. Over the next few days he spent most of his time moping round the house not knowing what to do with himself. He even cleaned the place from top to bottom, he had no idea what to do with his seemingly increased energy levels. It was Wednesday morning when he got a letter from a company called Monsun & Sons solicitors asking him to phone them over a matter of great importance. He dialled the number not knowing really what to expect. He had almost thrown the letter away,
thinking that it was another offer of refunded bank charges that always seemed to come through the door. A female voice answered the phone.
“Monsun and Sons how may I help you?” said the well-rehearsed voice.
“My name is Patrick Hurst, I received a letter asking for me to phone you?”
“One moment please,” said the voice and there was silence, save for the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard. “Putting you through now Mr Hurst,” said the voice and then there was a click followed by another ring tone.
“Patrick Hurst?” said a gruff sounding male voice suddenly in his ear, he almost recoiled from the phone.
“That’s right.”
“Mr Hurst, pleasure to speak to you. We need to arrange for you to come and have a meeting with us. We are the acting solicitors for your late father’s estate and we would like you to come along for the reading of his last will and testament. Would tomorrow morning be alright for you at about ten o’clock?”
This guy doesn’t fuck around, thought Patrick.
“Ten is fine for me,” said Patrick.
“Look forward to it,” said the voice and then he was gone, leaving Patrick looking at his phone with a puzzled look on his face. He shrugged and toyed with the idea of going for a walk to try and break his boredom. He went upstairs to grab himself a pair of socks and caught sight of his bed. He decided to forgo the walk in favour of a nap. He knew that the walk would probably have been better for him, but he really didn’t give a shit. His whole routine usually went out of the window during the summer holidays, besides he didn’t have to answer to anybody, that was one of the many joys of living on his own. As he got himself comfy on the bed he thought to himself that he might invite Jack over later for a few cans and perhaps a big sweaty pizza. When the shit was down, he could always rely on Jack to keep his spirits up, or at least to listen to him complain about nothing in particular. He dozed off, content with his plan. Everything was going to be just fine.
Duet Page 19