“Hate it,” said Davie. “I try my best though. I promised my mom I would get a job and not end up like my older brother.
Oh shit, why did I just say that?
“You have a brother?”
Davie swallowed what felt like a huge lump of coal in his throat. “Yeah. He…moved away, years ago now, but he was always up to no good.”
“Know what you mean,” said Andrew. “I had an older brother too that was always dragging me into trouble. I haven’t seen him in years now though. We had different dads and when my mom and his father split, the family went its separate ways. Last I heard, from a cousin, he was working as a civil servant near Stoke.”
“You ever miss him?”
“Sure. Not as much as I used to, I have my own family now, but he used to watch out for me as a kid. I looked up to him, you know? Then as I got older, I started to see that he was a bit of a loose cannon. Looking back, I’m glad he went away because I think he may have gotten me into something really bad eventually with all his pranks and schemes. Did your brother ever get you into his messes?”
Davie thought about how loud Charlie had screamed when Frankie held her arm in all of that chip fat. It was the hottest thing Davie had ever seen, bubbling and spitting malignantly like a living entity. The girl cried out so loud when her hand had touched the liquid that something must have given way inside her throat. The pitch of her voice changed mid-scream. Frankie had broken his own rule about never hurting a woman and the whole incident had sent Davie’s world spiralling. The violence had made him feel woozy, so he’d run from the scene, ran away from the chip shop as fast as he could. Then something had hit him like a tonne of bricks. Next thing he knew, he was waking up in a hospital with a nurse bandaging his head. Even now, Davie had a hard time accepting what had happened in the chip shop. The old Frankie he’d grown up with would never have hurt a defenceless girl like that. The old Frankie he grew up with would not have done a lot of the things he’d done lately.
“...kay?”
Davie looked up from his thoughts. “Huh?”
“I said, are you okay?”
Davie nodded. “Just feel a bit sick.”
“We’re almost there now. Hold on.”
Davie decided not to participate in any further conversation. The less Andrew knew about him – and his blood relatives – the better. In fact, too much had been said already. The speeding car took a road on the left and started slowing down. It entered into a residential area that Davie did not recognise. The houses were bigger than the ones where he lived.
“I think you’ve gone the wrong way,” he said.
Andrew kept his eyes forward. “No, I haven’t”
“Yeah, you have,” Davie argued. “You should have kept on the main road for a little while longer.”
“We’re making a little detour first.”
Davie’s heart thudded. “What?”
Andrew smiled at him for a moment, as if to reassure him, then looked back at the road. “I have someone I want you to meet. Then I’ll take you straight home, alright?”
“Okay,” said Davie hesitantly. “Who?”
Andrew took a deep breath as if he was considering something. “I want you to meet my family, Davie. They were worried when I told them I hit you. I just want them to see that you’re okay. That cool, buddy?”
Davie nodded. “Yeah, okay, but I really need to get home soon.”
“No problem. Be just five minutes. My wife will never get off my back until she knows you’re going to be fine.”
Davie looked out of the car’s window as it parked up on the curb outside of a row of houses. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being like a rat caught in a trap. There was something off about the situation and Andrew’s demeanour had changed. If anything bad happened, Davie had nowhere to run – he had no idea where he was.
Andrew applied the parking-brake and switched off the ignition. “Okay, get out.”
Davie obeyed in silence. He pushed open the door on his side and stepped out into the street. The air felt icy after the cloying atmosphere of the car. It was a good sensation though, waking up his senses and easing the low-level headache that’d been with him since the hospital.
“Come on, inside,” said Andrew, walking up a path to one of the houses. There was a light on in the living room, mingling with the pulsing flash of a television. Davie followed, without argument, but wished he was somewhere else – anywhere else.
Andrew opened the front door with a key and stepped inside, taking of his jacket. Dave stepped in after him and the door was locked behind him. “Living room’s on the left,” said Andrew. “Go on through.”
Davie entered the hallway and turned to the door on the left. It felt as though turning the handle would be the beginning of something he didn’t want to get into. He wanted to refuse, to turn around and demand to be let out. But it was too late for that.
I’m already inside the house.
Davie turned the handle, pushed open the door, and entered the living room. Inside, there was a mixture of smells that didn’t usually go together. It smelt like vinegar and…bleach? Davie soon spotted the source of each odour. Two women – one young and one older – crawled on their hands and knees, scrubbing at the carpet with bleach-soaked cloths. The whole room was littered with mashed up potatoes and bits of fish.
“My family,” said Andrew behind him.
The women looked up and both seemed to receive a fright at Davie’s presence. Both of them stood up quickly with worried looks on their faces. Andrew stepped through into the centre of the living room and stood in front of the two women. “This mess is just one of the things Frankie has done to us for no reason, Davie. My wife and daughter have been scrubbing at these carpets all evening and the smell still hasn’t gone. You know all about the damage to my car as well.”
Davie shook his head and wondered what to say. What words would make it alright?
The older woman’s eyes had gone wide as she looked at him. “You know Frankie?”
Davie said nothing. He didn’t want to admit to anything that could get him hurt.
“This is Frankie’s brother,” said Andrew, “and he’s a good lad.”
Davie raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”
Andrew shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think you enjoy hurting people, not like your brother does.”
Davie still chose to say nothing. His thoughts were a muddle, perhaps from the concussion – perhaps not.
“Sit down,” said the older woman. “I’ll get us all some tea.”
Davie hesitated. He still wanted out of there desperately, but somehow his uneasiness at the thought of staying was going away. A cup of tea sounded exactly what he needed right now. It had been a stressful day. The younger girl stepped towards him and held out her hand. She was about his age, perhaps slightly older, and beautiful – like a younger version of her mother but with lightness to her features that made her seem angelic. Davie could tell just by looking at her that she was a kind person, it seemed to radiate off her. Her hand was still extended and Davie finally took it, albeit reluctantly.
“My name’s Rebecca,” she said, before leading him towards the sofa. “Take a seat and we’ll talk things through. You look like you’ve been in the wars.”
Davie sat down and nodded. “I got run over.”
Rebecca sat beside him. “No way!”
“Yes,” said Andrew, seating himself on a nearby armchair. “It was me that hit him.”
She seemed utterly shocked.
“Was an accident, Bex.” Andrew held his hands up in a plea. “Davie’s going to be just fine though, so don’t worry.”
“Thank God. This week’s been horrible enough without anything else happening.”
“I’m sorry,” said Davie without realising the word had even escaped his lips.
“It’s okay,” Rebecca told him. “We just want your brother to leave us alone.”
“Yes,” said Andrew. “It all n
eeds to stop – right now.”
The older woman re-entered the room with a tray full of steaming mugs. The one she handed to Davie had a design of Bart Simpson exposing his buttocks. “I added sugar. Is that okay?”
Davie nodded and thanked her. Then he said, “I need to go home.”
“Okay,” Andrew nodded. “Just drink your tea and we’ll get going. I wanted you to meet my girls first.”
“Why?”
“So that you can tell your brother that we’re real people he’s hurting. We’re not here for his entertainment.”
“He knows that.”
“Does he? Because maybe things don’t seem as real if you don’t know the person you’re having ‘fun’ with.”
Davie shrugged. “I know what you’re doing, but I don’t think it will work. I’m sorry.”
“Can you not do anything at all, Davie?” Rebecca asked.
Davie shook his head. “Frankie doesn’t listen to anyone, least of all me. I think…I think he enjoys hurting people.”
Andrew nodded. “Like Charlie.”
Davie looked down at the liquid in the mug and watched it steam. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just want to go home. If you let me go now, I won’t tell Frankie about what happened.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you threatening me?”
Davie shrugged. “Guess I am. Frankie has got it in for you, and if he hears you ran me over, I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“So why would you want to tell him if it will cause more trouble?”
Davie stood up, flinging his mug of steaming tea aside, adding to the stains on the carpet. He wasn’t usually prone to outbursts, but his head hurt and he felt sick. “Because you won’t let me the-fuck go. I’ve asked you nicely and now I’m telling you, let me leave, right now.” Davie felt woozy, but continued anyway. “I’ll walk home from here and not say a thing about this, but if you keep me here any longer than you’ll pay for it.”
Andrew’s eyes saddened as they looked at him. “That’s a shame. I thought better of you. Guess I had it all wrong.”
Davie couldn’t understand why, but tears had begun to beat at the back of his eyelids. Andrew had been correct when he said knowing a victim makes things more real. It upset him to see the effects of Frankie’s behaviour, and even made him a little angry, but it was none of his business. Frankie was family. Frankie was his brother. This man in front of him was just a stranger.
Or at least he was until he ran me over and looked after me.
Davie yanked open the door to the hallway and stomped out, trying to control his breathing as it threatened to get out of control. He went into the porch and waited for Andrew to come and unlock the front door for him. But it was not Andrew that came to join him. It was Rebecca.
“Hi,” she said to him, approaching cautiously.
Davie gave a half-smile. “Hey. I’m sorry about all this shit my brother’s brought down on you, but it’s nothing to do with me.”
She smiled at him and nodded, then reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you can’t do anything about it. It was shitty of my dad to corner you like that. He’s just trying to protect us.”
Davie didn’t want to get into it any further. He just wanted to leave. He found himself giving an answer though, against his own will. “I understand why he did it and I’m not going to tell anyone about this. Just let me out, okay?”
Rebecca obliged. She produced a key from her pocket and shimmied past him. Her body felt warm against his as she brushed past and Davie felt dizzy again. She unlocked the door for him and stood aside.
“Thanks,” he said, taking one last look at her – sad that they would not speak again after this. Just as he stepped out onto the pathway, she put a hand out and stopped him.
“It’s okay, you know?”
“What’s okay?”
“Being afraid of Frankie. I am too. I guess a lot of people are.”
Davie puffed up his shoulders. “I’m not afraid of anybody. Especially not my own brother.”
Rebecca smiled at him. Davie thought the expression contained all the caring in the world, but also a lot of pity. She asked him one last question before he went. “If you’re not afraid, then why won’t you help us?”
Davie was just thinking of an answer when he heard someone shout from behind him. It was his brother’s voice.
“Davie?” Frankie was marching up the path. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
CHAPTER TEN
Andrew heard Bex scream and immediately panicked. His first thought was that he’d completely misjudged Davie and that the boy had done something to hurt his daughter. Andrew felt like a fool. He pushed past Pen and raced into the hallway, heading directly for the porch. Bex was still crying when he got there but she didn’t seem to be hurt. In fact she was alone.
“Bex, what the hell is going on?”
She spun around. “It’s Frankie! He’s outside.”
You’re kidding me.
Andrew stepped up to the front door and looked out into the night. Davie was halfway down the path, Frankie was with him, and the two were arguing – both voices were heated and angry, but the sound of Davie’s voice seemed more pleading than it was aggressive.
“What the fuck happened to you, bro?” Frankie demanded, pointing to the bandage on his brother’s head. “Did that fucking mug give you a kicking? He’s a dead man.”
“No,” said Davie. “I got hit by a car. The guy who lives here was just helping me. He took me to the hospital and drove me back.”
Frankie looked towards the house and spotted Andrew standing there. “Oh, did he? Is that what you do, old man? Give lifts to young boys? Fucking pedo.”
Andrew pushed Bex aside and told her to go inside the house. Then he looked back at Frankie. “He was injured. Would you have preferred I just left him there?”
Frankie didn’t say anything and Andrew hoped he was finally getting through. When Frankie eventually did speak, it was in a calmer tone than his usual growl. “No, course not, but how the hell did you happen to be there anyway?”
“Right time, right place,” said Davie quickly..
But Andrew owned up. It would only be worse if Frankie found out the truth later, and at least right now the lad seemed a little more reasonable than usual. “It was me that hit him, Frankie. It was an accident, I swear. That’s why I made sure he got to the hospital and back home again. I’m really sorry.”
Frankie’s face contorted. “You mowed down my little brother?” He marched up the path towards Andrew, shoving aside his brother’s attempts to stop him. “You’re a dead man.”
Andrew stood rooted in the doorway, unsure how to proceed. Things seemed to have backfired and could even now be worse. When Frankie pulled out a flick-knife and released the blade, the decision to flee was obvious. Andrew slammed the front door closed and locked it as quickly as he could. Then he called the police.
***
Frankie had stood outside the house for almost ten minutes, screaming threats and vowing that Andrew would pay for what he’d done. Bex and Pen were both in tears by the time he left. Five minutes later the police arrived, and were now sitting in the living room as they had been only hours before. It was the same two officers: Dalton and Wardsley.
“He actually threatened your life?” Wardsley asked.
Andrew nodded. “He pulled a knife on me.”
“Okay.” Wardsley nodded. “I think we have good reason to go and ask Frankie a few questions now.”
“Questions,” said Andrew, leaning forward in his armchair. “I want you to do more than that! He’s a danger to society.”
Wardsley nodded. “I understand you want something done, sir. Believe me, we’ll be arresting him and holding him over night. We’ll do whatever we can to get him in front of a judge, but…”
Andrew nodded. “But he’ll be back on the street in twenty-four hours.”
Dalton took over for her
partner. “I’m afraid that’s the system. The burden of proof is on the victim, not the offender.”
Andrew flopped back in the armchair. All the times he’d dismissed conservative claims that there was too little justice in the British prosecution system, and now it turned out they were absolutely right. There was no justice. Andrew’s family was being terrorised and the system would do nothing to protect them. Instead, it was more interested in protecting Frankie’s rights. Andrew didn’t blame the two police officers in his living room; they’d let down their barriers since the last time they’d visited and seemed genuinely sympathetic. Andrew imagined they were just as frustrated by their lack of power as he himself was.
“Look,” said Andrew. “What the hell should I do?”
“Do you have anyone you can stay with?” Dalton asked.
Andrew shrugged. “I guess. Pen’s parents could have us for a while, but how does that help in the long run?”
“It will just be until we press charges and bring Frankie in front of a judge.”
“But you don’t think I have a case though. Not enough evidence.”
PC Wardsley bit at his lip and sighed. “You’re right, we don’t. All you have are threats. It’s not enough.”
“So, what then?”
The two officers thought for a moment. Eventually it was Dalton who said something. “Look,” she said. “I’ll make a phone call to the Super and see what we can do. I would strongly suggest leaving in the morning and going somewhere else for a while. In the meantime, we’ll get this piece of scum off the streets and make it clear to him that we’re watching his every move.”
“And will you be?” asked Andrew.
Dalton shrugged. “I’ll request a plain-clothes to be stationed in the area. Hopefully if we supervise Frankie’s movements long enough, we’ll catch him doing something red-handed.”
Andrew felt himself relax, tension flooding out of his bones in great heaps. Someone being nearby, watching over his family, was exactly what he needed to feel safe again. If Frankie tried anything else now there would be a witness – a police witness.
“Thank you,” said Andrew, standing up and offering out his hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. It’s such a relief.”
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