Heard of that. It’s where you’re asleep and find it really hard to wake up. It can go on for ages.
‘Will he wake up?’
‘God, I hope so.’
I hoped not.
Knew I shouldn’t think like that, but I couldn’t stop meself. I mean, this was the man who kept hurting me mam. Even if he got better, he’d know what it was like to be well and truly battered. Might make him stop.
Me mam started sobbing. It got so bad she had to stop the car. She couldn’t see. We just sat there, on the bypass, engine running, Mam crying.
I couldn’t think what she had to cry about. The bloke that punched her, choked her, slapped her, couldn’t hurt her. Not tonight any road. Did she feel bad for him, or bad for her? Not the time to ask.
I wanted to give her a hug, but it’s hard with your seat belt on, so I gave her arm a little squeeze instead.
‘Thanks, Danny, you’re a good lad.’
Forty
•
Could hardly sleep a wink for thinking about the coma. What happened when FB came out of it? He might remember who attacked him.
They’d get one of those artists to do a little drawing. Someone might spot that it’s Stevie. Then everyone would ask – why would Danny’s dad want to come all the way down to Gateshead and punch Danny’s mam’s boyfriend? Then Aunty Tina would tell me mam about the note. And that would be the end of that.
Must have slept a bit, no idea when. I pulled some tracksuit pants on and a T-shirt and went downstairs. Mam was already at the breakfast table, dressed. She had a cup of smelly tea in front of her. Felt too sick for cereal, so I had a glass of water.
‘How ya deein, Mam?’
Ignored me. As usual.
‘Why would someone do that to him? And a Scotsman.’
That word made me want to puke again. Funny how one word can do that, first ‘Dad’, then ‘wee’, then ‘Callum’, now ‘Scotsman’. Felt me face cherry up, but I don’t think Mam noticed. She was too busy staring.
Mam took a tiny sip of her tea, like it was poison.
‘Not too many Scotsmen in Gateshead,’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t be too hard to find him.’
What she didn’t know was that the Scotsman who did it was now probably miles away in his wee flat.
Then me mam stared at me with a look like she knew something. It made me jump inside.
‘Danny, you said that there was a Scots boy at school.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes, when you were on the school trip, remember? You told me on the phone.’
‘Nowt to do with him.’
‘Why not?’
Because the Scots boy doesn’t exist.
‘Er, just divvent think it will, that’s all.’
‘But his dad will be Scottish. He must live round here. We’d better tell the police. They’ll want to know.’
Me mam got her phone out. She was going to get the coppers round, and get me to tell them about the Scots boy who wasn’t there and his invisible dad. Felt all woozy in the head. Mam started tapping her phone. I watched her fingers press the buttons, but they did more than three, a lot more than three. She wasn’t calling the police.
‘Hello, Louise, it’s Kim here,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got some very bad news for you. It’s about Callum.’
Me mam was calling FB’s family.
I just sat there, like one of those statue people, listening to her.
‘Gone to the pub… call from the police… last night… hit his head… attacked… in a coma.’
She spent the next hour phoning all sorts of people. I had to go to me room. Couldn’t stand listening to it, the same story over and over and over.
I rang Amy to tell her what had happened. Even though she now knew what FB was like she said she’d say a Hail Mary for him.
When me mam had finished phoning we went back to the hospital. It wasn’t as mad busy as last night, but still mad, with sick people all over the shop. We sat in the waiting room, next to a smelly gadgie with yellow fingers. Forgot me phone, so I had to look through the magazines on the table. They were that old some of the people in it weren’t even on the telly no more.
While I was waiting I had a thought. I decided not to call him FB any more, not after what had happened. It didn’t seem right. From now on he could have his proper name back. From now on he could be Callum again.
Then a nurse said me mam could go and see him.
‘Come on,’ she said.
‘Me?’
‘Please.’
I didn’t want to see him. Not now.
Get a grip, Danny.
Got off me chair and went with me mam down the corridors. We reached a room and went in. Thought we’d got the wrong place. Didn’t look like a bit like Callum. Just a bloke, his face all puffed up, bandages round his head, eyes closed, tubes everywhere. But the closer you got you could tell it was him. Just.
Me mam went and sat in a chair next to his bed.
‘Can he hear us?’ said me mam.
‘No,’ went the nurse.
I stood at the back of the room. Didn’t want to look at him.
‘Sit next to me, Danny.’
Didn’t want to argue. I pulled a chair next to her.
Hated being in the room.
‘Can we go now, Mam?’
Ignored me. Again.
I’d’ loved to have been able to look inside me mam’s head and see what she was thinking. I still love him, in spite of everything? Now he knows what it feels like? I won’t get hit this week? Bang goes our holiday to Tenerife?
But her face was giving nothing away.
After what seemed like for ever, she gave me hand a squeeze and we got up.
‘See you later, Callum,’ she said. ‘Love you.’
I said nowt.
We waited at the hospital for Callum’s lot to turn up. Recognised some of them from Callum’s birthday party, his brother, Ian, his sister, Louise, and his knackered-looking mam. I suppose even blokes that hit mams have mams. But this time they weren’t drinking or dancing or laughing. Me dad had seen to that.
‘Are you okay, Kim?’ said Louise.
Me mam just did a little head move like a pigeon.
‘And how’s Danny coping?’ Like I wasn’t even there.
‘He’s fine.’
Ian gave me mam a hug.
‘Shocking,’ he said.
No, what was shocking was beating up me mam for no reason at all.
A few of them said hello to me. I tried hard not to look guilty. Don’t think anyone spotted that I was. They were too busy being sad.
They soon got round to talking about the attack.
‘Just been for a quiet drink,’ said Callum’s mam.
‘Callum quite liked a drink,’ said Louise.
No, he loved a drink. Couldn’t get enough of it.
‘Hit by a Scotsman apparently,’ said Ian. ‘What the flipping heck’s a Scotsman doing round here?’
Louise joined in. ‘Police said someone heard them arguing. Callum’s not the argumentative type.’
Talking clap-trap. He’d argue with a lamp post when he was drunk.
‘Scotsmen are known for their arguing,’ said Callum’s mam. ‘It’s in their DNA.’
‘Danny knows a Scots boy at school, don’t you, Danny?’ said me mam.
All the eyes in the waiting room suddenly turned on me, even the smelly gadgie. It felt like class, when you’ve been found out.
‘A Scots boy, you say?’ went Ian, eyes narrowing. ‘You’d better go tell that policeman,’ he said, looking at a copper standing by a wall covered in posters about diseases.
I looked at the copper, the copper looked at me. I was going to have to speak to him. Everyone was watching, waiting. I put me magazine down, got up from the chair and walked towards the copper dead slow, like a death march. What was I going to say? If I told him there was a Scots boy in our school, he’d ask, ‘Who is he?’ Then he’d ask, ‘Who’s his dad?�
�� And I’d just stand there like a bus stop.
Was right next to the copper now. I could feel everyone watching, their eyes drilling holes into me brain.
‘Hello,’ he said, smiling, as he looked down. He was even taller than Lanky Dave. He had a friendly face, though, for a copper.
‘Hello,’ I went.
They were all waiting for me to tell him. Luckily, they weren’t close enough to hear what I said.
‘Do you know where the toilets are?’
‘Yes, they’re just down the corridor, on the left.’ Hadn’t said enough yet. They were still watching. ‘How do you become a copper?’
He laughed a bit. Hope they didn’t spot that. They’d think, ‘Why’s a copper laughing about the hunt for a dangerous Scotsman?’
‘Well, you’ve got to grow a bit first,’ said the copper. ‘Then you’ve got to go to college, pass some exams, go on the beat.’
‘Ta.’
‘Oh, and by the way, we’re called police officers, not coppers.’
‘Sorry.’
I walked slowly back.
Me mam put her arm around me. ‘Well done, Danny.’
Forty-One
• •
That night two coppers came round, one bloke copper, one woman copper. Mam and Louise sat on the sofa. I sat on a chair in the corner, the coppers sat on two chairs from the kitchen. It was like having a cop programme in our own front room.
‘Can you tell us about what happened last night, Kim?’ said the woman copper, with her notebook out.
Yeah, tell them about him tearing the Christmas lights down.
Me mam looked at the floor. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Callum left about eight o’clock I think. He went to The Flying Fox, as normal.’
‘So Callum went to the pub a lot?’ Bloke copper picked up on that. Can be quite clever coppers.
‘He was trying to cut back, but, yes, he went a bit.’
‘How often?’ said the woman copper.
‘Four times a week, I guess, sometimes five.’
Aye, and then he bashes me mam. She should have told them that, perfect opportunity, got two coppers in your front room. You don’t get that every day. But me mam didn’t say it. Maybe she felt bad that Callum was now the one all bashed up, or maybe she didn’t want to say it in front of his sister.
‘Did he go to any other pubs?’ Woman copper.
‘Don’t think so. The Flying Fox is only ten minutes’ walk away. Callum didn’t like walking much.’
‘Did he have any enemies?’ Bloke copper.
Me.
‘Did he have any enemies?’ repeated me mam. She looked in my direction when she said this, making me guts squash up inside. Then she looked away. ‘Don’t think so.’
‘Did he have friends at the pub?’ Bloke copper.
‘If he did he never talked about them. He used to take his tablet, or his F1 magazine. I think he just kept himself to himself.’
I’d seen him through the pub window on his own. Me mam was right about that one.
‘How long have you lived with him?’ Woman copper.
‘We’ve been in this house since last December, isn’t that right, Danny?’
‘Aye.’
One year too long.
‘Have you spoken to the people in the pub?’ said me mam. Now she’d turned into a copper.
The woman copper nodded. ‘Yes, we’re taking statements from everyone who was there.’
Silly question, Mam. ’Course they take statements. That’s the number one part of their job.
‘Has Callum ever got into trouble with anyone?’ Bloke copper.
I crossed me fingers tight. Come on, Mam, now’s your chance. Tell them, tell them what he did, tell him he got into trouble – with you.
‘No.’
I looked at her. But she wouldn’t look at me.
Why didn’t she tell them about the fights? Why didn’t she tell them about the lass on the coast road? Why didn’t she tell them what an evil bastard he was? I wished with all me brain for me mam to say it, but she didn’t, just silence, like nothing had ever happened in our house.
I wanted to tell them what really went on, but if I did they’d turn their eyes on me, and they’d want to know why I was so angry and why I hated Callum so much.
Then they’d find out everything.
The woman copper spotted a Brides magazine. ‘You and Callum were going to get married?’
‘Are,’ said me mam.
‘Sorry,’ said the woman copper.
It wasn’t much of a mistake but it was enough to start me mam crying. Louise shuffled over and put an arm around her.
‘It’s all right, Kim,’ said Louise.
Me mam stopped after a bit. It wasn’t one of her massive cries.
The coppers started again.
‘Did you have a previous boyfriend?’ Woman copper.
Mam looked a bit shifty.
‘Not for a long time.’ Me mam looked at me, like she was guilty of something. ‘I had a couple of short relationships.’
Must have been dead short. Don’t even remember them.
The woman copper glanced at me. ‘And what about Danny’s father?’
Wazzocks.
Mam looked down at her nails, like the memory was messing with her head. ‘We’re not in touch. I haven’t seen him for years, since before Danny was born.’
Please don’t say it, please don’t say it, please don’t say it, please don’t say he lives in Scotland, please don’t say it. I held me breath that long I thought I was going to pass out, but me mam didn’t breathe a word. The God of Please Don’t Say It had heard me.
Louise scratched the fish on her leg. ‘Have you got any clues?’
The bloke copper answered. ‘All we’ve got to go on is what we heard from a woman in Amberly Close. She was putting her rubbish out and heard a man with a Scottish accent shouting abuse. When she went to take a look Callum was lying on the ground, but the Scotsman had gone.’
The woman copper looked at Mam. ‘Have you any idea why anyone would hold a grudge against him?’
Me mam didn’t look at me. She just shrugged. ‘He works in IT, likes watching motor racing, he’s not in any trouble. He’s not a drug dealer or anything.’
‘Did Callum have any dealings up in Scotland?’
‘He used to travel a bit on business, but it was down south – Birmingham, Reading, London, places like that. I don’t think he’s ever been to Scotland. I never heard him mention it.’
Silence.
The coppers had run out of questions. Typical. I could have thought of loads more. They grabbed their hats and stood up. Before they left the bloke copper had one more thing to say, just like they do on telly.
‘I know it’s a very difficult time for you, Kim, but if anything comes to you, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call.’
Mam nodded.
The woman copper put a hand on Mam’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure everything will be okay.’
Mam gave a small smile.
‘Yeah, Callum will be fine,’ she said. ‘He’s as strong as an ox.’
Forty-Two
•
On the eleventh of December, Callum Jeffries died.
The punch had done its business. You’d have thought with all the NHS money and all those doctors and nurses and machines and drugs and stuff they’d be able to do something. It was only a punch, not a missile. But they couldn’t save him, he just went and died.
I’ll never forget the morning me mam got the call. I was brushing me teeth when I heard a scream like you’ve never heard in your life, worse than a horror film. I dropped me toothbrush, ran downstairs, and found Louise on the kitchen floor, screaming. She’d been staying with us since he got hit. Me mam was on the floor next to her, holding her.
‘Nooooo,’ went Louise.
Didn’t need to ask what had happened.
Normally make me mam a cup of tea when she’s upset, but a cup of tea was never goi
ng to sort this out. Was weird seeing two grown-ups clinging to each other, lying on the floor like that. I didn’t want to watch them, so I went and sat on a chair in the front room. Realised I was sitting where he sat. Could feel the giant hollow his bum had made. I felt sick again, like when he was screaming at me mam, and on the train back from Edinburgh, and the night at the hospital, and all the other times.
Me mind was mushed up. What I’d dreamed about for months and months had finally happened. So why was I feeling so weird? Me mam was finally going to be okay. She wasn’t going to be one of the two women. I’d done it. I’d made it happen. Can you be blamed for doing something good?
I looked around and saw the F1 magazines he’d never read again, the massive telly he’d never watch again, the coasters he’d never put his drinks on again. And outside, the Range Rover he’d never break the law in again.
I felt a tear pop into me eyeball.
What the heck was that doing there?
Maybe it was just the shock of the news or the sound of sobbing. I went out into the garden to get away from the noise. I didn’t care that it was freezing outside, I needed some air, any air would do. Felt like me head had been put in a blender.
Went round the back of the shed like I did when Callum was screaming at me mam after Christmas dinner. After a bit she came out in her dressing gown. She didn’t care about the cold either, just sat on the frosty grass and wrapped her arms around me. Didn’t look like me mam any more, her eyes red, her face a weird colour, her hair all over the shop where Louise had been cuddling her.
‘He’s gone, Danny.’
I felt her tears landing on top of me head, soft and warm. One trickled down me face, like it belonged to me. I felt bad. I’d done this to her. If I’d gone on the school trip to the Lakes none of this would have happened. Callum would be off to work, Mam would be down the call centre, and I’d be off to school. Everything would be normal. This was as un-normal as you could get.
We stayed like this for ages. Was starting to get a cramp in me leg. But I couldn’t shift me mam. Just had to swallow the pain.
Finally, she got up.
‘Let’s go inside,’ she said. ‘It’s freezing out here.’
Louise must have phoned the others because they all started showing up, Ian, his mam, and the ones whose names I’d forgotten. Then our lot turned up, Gran and Granda, Aunty Tina and Uncle Greg, Uncle Martin and Aunty Sheila, and a couple of me mam’s mates I hadn’t seen since before he turned up. Everyone ended up in the kitchen, talking in whispers.
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