Davie shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, but did as he was told and joined his mother on the grimy settee. She pretty much lived in this room, sprawled out in front of the television, passing out and waking up at random times. Davie sometimes wondered whether her sweat-soaked flesh would someday fuse with the festering cloth of the cushions and keep her there forever.
His mother took a long swig of beer and followed it with a throaty belch. “So whaya bin up to, Davie?”
Davie shrugged and stared at the flashing television. “Nothing really. Just hanging out with Frankie. I’m glad he’s back.”
His mother huffed and took another swig of beer. “Boy’s a bad un. Done nothing but embarrass me his whole life. All I ever did was try to raise him like a good mother. You need to stay out of his way, Davie. You study hard and make your old mom proud. That boy will only bring you down with him – drinking, drugs, sex. He’s no good.”
“He’s my brother. He just does what he needs to survive.”
Davie’s mother laughed; a wet cackle that eventually became a hacking cough. Phlegm and spittle flew from between her cracked lips and settled on the grungy carpet. When she finally managed to get control of her lungs again, she said, “He tell you that, did he? The bleeding swine.”
Davie didn’t answer. He hated it when his mother started on about Frankie – it never ended well. There was a real, palpable hatred between the two of them that had started before Davie could even remember. He was just the unfortunate victim in the middle. He loved them both, but when it came right down to it, only one of them was really looking out for Davie – and it wasn’t his mother.
The sounds of sex above them grew louder and more frenzied, approaching a crescendo. Michelle cried out in orgasm, lacking regard for anyone forced to listen.
Davie’s mother looked up at the ceiling and sneered, upper lip curling like a snarling Pit-bull. “Goddamn whore! Where does Frankie find em? Regret the day I gave birth to that monster, I really do.”
“Mom, don’t say that.” Davie knew where things were going – same place they always did. “Just watch your TV show. Okay?”
Her demeanour changed. Her eyes turned dark and her expression exuded a deep and hateful bitterness. “Don’t you tell me what to do, you ungrateful little shit. Who do you think you are?”
“Mom…”
She struck him across the face and his instincts almost made him strike her right back, but he managed to refrain from any retaliation. You never hit women, Frankie had always taught him, those are the rules. So instead, Davie stood up calmly and exited the room.
His mother shouted after him as he left. “That’s right. Get out of my sight. Devil-children, that’s what you both are. You and your brother make my life a living hell.” She started sobbing to herself. “What did I do to deserve this? I do my best…”
Davie ignored the rest of her comments, had heard them too often to ever let them settle in his mind and flourish. He turned away and went back up the stairs, heading for his bedroom. Maybe he would wile away the day with a videogame or two (not that he had many), but before he got there, Frankie exited his own bedroom and stepped out onto the landing.
“What that bitch say to you?” he demanded. “I heard shouting.”
“Nothing,” said Davie. “She’s just mouthing off at the television again. You know what she’s like when she’s been drinking.”
Frankie examined Davie’s face, trying to work him out. Eventually he nodded. “It’s what she’s like when she’s sober I know nothing about. Woman’s a waste of space.” Frankie stepped over to Davie and put a hand on his shoulder. “Go find your coat, bro. We’re going out.”
Davie frowned. “Where to?”
Frankie grinned and his twitch turned the expression into an alternating grimace. “To go and have some fun.”
Great, thought Davie, heading to fetch his coat. More fun…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Andrew was upset, frightened, angry, and a multitude of other unwanted states of emotion. The amount of adrenaline in his body had at one point almost driven him to full-blown panic, and it was only thanks to a combination of deep breathing and the brisk walk home that managed to keep his anxiety under control. Now that he was rounding the corner to his house, Andrew’s predominant emotion had become anger.
Frankie’s attitude had been aggressive just as Andrew would’ve expected. What he hadn’t expected was that the boy’s mother would be just as confrontational as her son. In many ways, it explained a lot – almost made the monster that was Frankie understandable and perhaps even forgivable. It didn’t make things right though. Andrew decided that enough was enough.
Frankie was just a teenaged boy, living with his mother and dating a school girl. Andrew was willing to bet his watch that the lad was all front and little substance. He’d only had the guts to throw a punch at Andrew the previous night because of a gang backing him up, and vandalising his car was a cowardly move. People were only afraid of Frankie because of the reputation he worked so hard to cultivate. Things would be different if people fought back instead of buying into it. Andrew was an average-sized guy and healthy enough to throw a punch if he had to. His days of College Rugby were far behind him, but he was certain he could handle himself if push came to shove. If Frankie wanted to try and victimise him, then he was welcome to try. Andrew knew where the lad lived now, and who his family were. They were on an equal playing field.
He reached the path to his house and started walking up it. The shape of Pen and Bex moved beyond the net curtains of the front window, and Andrew smiled at the thought of seeing them. He hadn’t expected them both to be home yet.
Is it that time already?
Andrew checked his wristwatch and saw that it was getting along for 6:00PM. As if in affirmation of the late hour his stomach began to grumble. Food was something he hadn’t thought about all day, but perhaps his appetite returning was a good sign – a sign that things were no longer getting to him quite so much.
He unlocked his front door and stepped inside the porch. Then he kicked off his shoes, removed his jacket, and passed through into the hallway. Pen and Bex were on their knees in the living room, handling a pair of soaped-up sponges. The carpets were still a mess, but the smell was mostly gone now as they struggled to remove the stains. They both gawped at Andrew as he entered.
“Where’ve you been?” asked Pen.
Andrew set himself down in his armchair and released a long, weary sigh. “I went to Frankie’s home to try and sort things out.”
Pen’s eyes widened and she straightened up off the floor. “Really? What happened?”
Andrew leaned further back into the chair’s cushion and shrugged his shoulders. “Not a fat lot. The kid’s whole family are as horrible as he is. Was like banging my head against a brick wall.”
“So this isn’t over then?” said Bex, sat beside her mother and still wearing her school blazer.
“I’m hoping so, honey. The evil bugger knows that I know where he lives now, and that I’m not afraid to confront him. Hopefully that will be enough to make him think twice from now on. Either way, don’t let it worry you. Things will be okay.”
Bex seemed unconvinced. “How do you know?”
“I just do, okay? I’m not going to let anything bad happen.”
“Okay,” said Pen, finally sounding less on the defensive. “Let’s just move on then.” She looked at Andrew and smiled. “I think we’re still owed an evening of fish and chips, so I think I’ll walk over to the shops in a bit.”
Andrew stood up from the armchair. “Don’t be silly. I’ll go.”
“You sure?”
Andrew nodded emphatically. “Yes, of course. I told you there’s nothing to worry about. Last thing I thought you’d fancy is fish and chips though, after last night.”
“Like I said, we should just move on. Besides, I don’t feel like cooking tonight. You certain you don’t want me to fetch them?”
Andrew nod
ded. “Certain as can be.” He left the living room and went to get his jacket again from the porch. It was chillier now as night fell, so he decided on a scarf as well. Once he’d checked for his wallet and keys, Andrew left the porch and started down his front path. The sight of the empty road ahead was comforting, the soft buzzing of the streetlights the only sound he could hear. Right now, the memory of being attacked by a gang of sadistic teenagers seemed impossible – a nightmare he’d awoken from long ago. Still, it would be smart to remain alert, and Andrew wasn’t entirely confident as he ambled down the street. But at least for now it seemed like things would be okay and that events would soon blow over.
What a day. Just when life seems to be routine and unexciting, something crazy can happen and turn everything on its head. It’s over now though, I’m sure. A little bit of grovelling at work and things will soon be back to normal.
Andrew didn’t notice the ambulance at first. He became aware of the flashing lights at the edge of his vision, but was too lost in his own thoughts to recognise their immediate connotation. When he finally came to realise that someone was undoubtedly injured or sick, Andrew hastened his steps and jogged towards the gathering crowd.
The ambulance was parked outside the small group of local shops that Andrew had been heading for. When he realised that the emergency vehicle was parked directly outside of the chip shop, Andrew’s stomach tied itself in knots. A bad feeling enveloped him like a leaden shroud. He rushed forward and looked for the nearest paramedic. There was a young, blond-haired man in a white shirt beneath a green jacket. He was carrying a large holdall and NHS emblems adorned his clothing in several places. Andrew approached him.
“What’s happened?” he asked the man. “Who’s hurt?”
The paramedic pushed past him, not making eye contact. “Please move aside, sir.”
Andrew went to grab out at the man’s sleeve but missed, and the medical worker hurried away before there was any opportunity for another try. Several spectators stood around in various corners of the shopping area and car park; Andrew examined them one by one. Eventually he spotted a young girl wearing the same chip shop uniform that Charlie always wore. He sighed with relief.
Thank God. This girl is obviously on shift right now, not Charlie. This is probably all down to some poor person having a heart attack or a funny turn.
“What happened?” Andrew asked the chip shop girl as he closed the distance between them. The girl’s eyes focused on him and were moist with recently-shed tears. It was obvious she’d just witnessed whatever accident had befallen the poor soul in the ambulance. Andrew put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and seemed to snap her out of a trance. “I said what happened?”
For a brief moment it looked like the girl was going to faint, but she managed to refocus and look Andrew in the eye. “She…she got burned.”
“Who got burned?”
“Cha…Charlie.”
Andrew’s knees threatened to fold beneath him. His stomach felt hollow and somehow overfull at the same time. “Charlie is the one that got hurt?”
The grief-stricken girl nodded.
Andrew shook his head, hoping she was mistaken. “What happened?”
The girl gave no answer, just stared in to space.
Andrew gave her a little shove. “Tell me!”
She snapped back to reality again. “I…I don’t know. She fell into the fat fryer. Got her arm all burnt up.”
Andrew examined her expression closely. She was staring into space again as if she were incapable of eye-contact. “Bullshit!” he said to her. She flinched and looked at him with teary eyes, but still said nothing. Andrew put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed, then looked her dead in the eyes. “Frankie did this, didn’t he?”
The girl shrugged off his grasp and hurried away. She rushed inside the chip shop and locked the door behind her. Andrew shook his head and he felt tears of his own begin welling up.
So much for answers, he thought.
The ambulance revved its engine and started to pull away. Andrew tried to get a look in through the back windows, to see if Charlie was okay, but the glass was frosted and gave no opportunity to do so. He stood in shock for several minutes after it left, praying to God that the poor girl on her way to the hospital was not hurt because of him.
Because of Frankie.
As the shock diluted into his bloodstream and faded away, it was replaced by a fury so alive with hatred that it seemed electrical in nature, sparking through Andrew’s system and singing his flesh. There was also fear, so meaty and palpable that he could taste it between his teeth. Frankie was an evil scumbag, far more dangerous than Andrew had given him credit for. It was a fact that changed everything.
Andrew started for home again, wondering how he would ever explain to his family that, for the second time this week, chips were cancelled.
***
“What do you mean you’re going to the hospital?”
“I need to go check on someone,” Andrew told his wife. “The girl from the chip shop. She told me where Frankie lives and I think he’s hurt her because of it.”
Pen almost spat the red wine she was drinking and had to swallow it carefully to avoid choking on it. “He’s put a girl in hospital now? Jesus Christ!”
“And it might be my fault,” said Andrew, “which is why I need to go.”
Pen collapsed onto the sofa, almost spilling her wine. Not that it would have mattered with the carpet in the state that it was. “Crazy! This whole thing is just…crazy!”
Andrew sat down beside his wife and put an arm around her. “I know, but perhaps this girl will press charges and Frankie will get sentenced again. Lord knows he deserves it.”
“You want me to come with you?”
Andrew shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t be fair to Charlie. She probably won’t want to see me, let alone my family. You stay here and look after Bex. I think she’s more upset about this situation than she lets on.”
“Okay,” said Pen. “Give this…Charlie…my best, okay?”
Andrew kissed his wife goodbye and left the house again. The hospital was five or six miles away so he would need to take his car to get there. Hopefully, now that it was dark, the graffiti written all over it would not be visible. Andrew pulled out his car keys and pressed the alarm fob. The car’s lights flashed twice. He pulled open the door and hopped inside, plonking his butt down into the leather driver’s seat. The ignition started as soon as he turned the key and the car was already moving when Andrew began to fumble for his seatbelt. His eye was off the road for only a few seconds as he looked back to retrieve it, but it was long enough to completely miss the sight of the person standing in the road.
The car hit at only 20mph, but it was fast enough to launch the person up onto the bonnet and back down to the pavement again.
Andrew stamped on the brakes.
The tyres squealed.
The car stopped.
Andrew stared out at the body on the road and could not believe it. His world kept getting worse with each passing second. He pressed the release on the seat belt and shoved open the door, stepping out shakily into the numbing cold of the frosty air.
He had just run down a young boy, unconscious now and bleeding in the road several yards ahead. Glass from one of the headlights covered the asphalt in wicked shards that sparkled under the streetlights like alligator teeth. Andrew rushed over to the boy and dropped down to his knees, ignoring the stabbing pains caused by the unforgiving tarmac on his shins.
“Are you okay?”
Stupid question.
“Everything is going to be okay,” Andrew told the unconscious boy in a slow, clear voice. “I’m going take you to the hospital.”
I was on my way there anyway. Andrew shook his head at the grim coincidence. To see another young kid that got hurt because of me. I’m going to hell.
Andrew sprung up off his knees, went and opened the rear passenger door of the car. Then he went back over to the
injured boy, kneeled beside him again, and threaded his arms underneath the armpits to hoist him up. The weight was substantial, but thankfully the boy was pretty lean. Andrew was just about able to carry him over to the back seat of the car without running out of steam. He placed the boy down gently and bent his legs at the knee so that the door had room to close. But before Andrew had chance to shut it, the boy opened his eyes and started to moan.
“Hey there,” said Andrew softly. “My name is Andrew. You’ve been in a little accident, but everything is going to be okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Can you tell me your name?”
The boy carried on moaning for a few moments more but eventually managed to answer Andrew’s question. He said his name was, ‘Davie.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Andrew reached the hospital in less than ten minutes, screeching to a halt outside the entrance of the A & E department. There was no one around and he had to cry out for someone to come and help him. It wasn’t long before a male nurse and a couple of orderlies appeared outside, hurrying to see what the emergency was.
The orderlies quickly retrieved a gurney and, together with the male nurse, managed to hoist Davie out of the car and onto the wheeled bed. Without hesitation they then disappeared inside the hospital, leaving Andrew alone with the male nurse.
“Do you know the boy?” the nurse asked him.
Andrew shook his head. “Said his name was Davie, but I’ve never met him before.”
The nurse put a hand on Andrew’s back and ushered him inside. “We’ll take good care of him, sir. For now we’ll need you to answer a few questions so that we can assess the extent of his injuries. You may have to make a report to the police as well. I assume it was you that hit him?”
It mortified Andrew to hear it out loud, but he had no choice except to nod – yes, he had hit the boy. Ran right over him because I wasn’t paying attention.
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