* * *
Clint had woken up with a raging headache, and had been about to go back to sleep when Kojo, sitting on the end of his bed, had prodded him urgently and asked him to wake up.
“What is it?” Clint asked groggily, trying to escape Kojo’s poking.
“Dad’s back.”
Clint’s eyes opened fully, and he sat up.
“When?” he asked.
Kojo shrugged, “I heard him and mum talking.”
“Is he drunk?”
“Don’t think so,” Kojo replied, “But you never know with dad.”
Clint felt a surge of anger through his body. Kojo already knew far too much about alcohol and violence, and he was still only young. And it was all his father’s fault.
He lifted himself out of bed, ignoring the pain in his head, and went out to the kitchen, Kojo following close behind him.
Kojo was right. Sitting at the kitchen table, wearing the same clothes as he’d left in, was Rakhul, his father. And it wasn’t a pretty sight. He hadn’t shaven in days, and the smell of stale beer and cigarettes was overwhelming, even from the doorway where Clint stood.
His mother was cooking breakfast on the stove, when she caught sight of them. She smiled.
“Look who’s back,” she said cheerily.
Their father turned around in his seat, and eyed up his sons. They both stared back at him, and without saying anything to either of them, he returned his gaze to the table, ignoring them.
“I’ll have another cuppa, love,” he eventually said.
“Right away,” Femi said, and began pouring him a coffee.
Clint shook his head in disgust, and returned to the bedroom. Kojo, sensing that it was okay now to resume normal life, retreated into the lounge and switched on the television.
In his bedroom, Clint threw himself onto the bed. But sleep wouldn’t come to him. His father’s return played on his mind. Eventually, he changed his mind about lying in bed. He couldn’t get back to sleep now, so he grabbed his towel off the hook on the back of the door and slipped into the bathroom to take a shower.
The hot water over his body was refreshing, but still his father preyed on his mind. He was like the plague, only worse.
When he’d showered and dressed, Clint sat on his bed and pondered what to do next. Troy was out of the question; Brandy had been staying the night and they probably hadn’t even got to bed yet. Amal was supposed to be visiting the prison with his mum today, so he couldn’t call on him. Tamar wasn’t busy, as far as Clint knew, but Tamar wasn’t exactly renowned for being a morning person. Aurora was always a possibility, but he was too nervous to knock on her door and ask her to come out. There was the risk that she’d consider it a date, and then he found himself debating whether or not it would be a date. Too complicated, he told himself. Probably best to lounge around the house for a bit, and then see what happened later. It was a Sunday, after all.
Suddenly, there were raised voices in the kitchen.
Clint jumped to his feet and ran out of the room.
“You call this fucking coffee?” His father was shouting, “Its fucking dishwater!”
When Clint burst into the kitchen, Rakhul was standing over his mother, looking ready to strike. Before he got the chance, Clint ran forward and grabbed his father by the collar of his worn shirt.
“Oi, what you doing?” Rakhul shouted.
Clint threw him to the floor, surprising both of them with his strength. Rakhul was twice the size of him, and Clint knew that the odds were against him if his father got back up off the tiles. He drew back his foot and mustered all his energy into slamming it into his father’s body.
Rakhul gasped, winded. His mother began shrieking, pulling at Clint’s arms. Clint shrugged her off and continued kicking him. He felt his trainers collide with the side of his father’s head, and then Rakhul stopped struggling, his face bleeding and bruised, his body crumpled. Femi dragged Clint away from him, and knelt beside her husband, sobbing hysterically.
“Is he dead?” a quiet voice asked from the doorway. It was Kojo.
“Of course he ain’t dead,” Clint said, “Unfortunately.”
His mother looked up at him, her face wet with tears.
“Kojo, go back to the lounge,” she said softly, and he obeyed. Then, she turned to Clint, “And you, young man. Go fetch your father some bandages from the bathroom, and you’ll sit and nurse him back to health. And when he’s conscious again, you’ll apologize.”
“Like fuck I will,” Clint said stubbornly.
“You will!” Femi protested, “Now fetch those bandages, now!”
“Screw him,” Clint snarled, “I wish he was dead.”
Before his mother could protest, Clint fled the room. He stopped in the hallway. He couldn’t stay here in the flat, not now.
In the kitchen, Femi was in shock. Her eldest son had beaten her husband. Still, he’d done it trying to protect her. The front door slammed, and she knew Clint had gone. She rose to follow him, but Rakhul stirred, and spat blood out over the tiled kitchen floor. Femi eyed the door, but knelt beside her husband and wiped his forehead.
“Don’t worry, darling,” she whispered to her husband, “You’ll be okay.”
And as she began tending to her husband’s injuries, all thought of Clint was pushed out of her mind.
* * *
Aurora had been in the cold for barely ten minutes, during which she’d wondered around the estate aimlessly. Now, she was freezing in the cold wind, and longing to be back at the flat. Maybe her mum had started drinking now, and would be wise enough to keep out of her way for a while.
Just as she made up her mind to head home to the warmth, Aurora caught sight of a hunched figure sitting on the nearby steps. She recognized the black and silver tracksuit. It was Clint.
She wondered whether she should go over, he looked angry. And upset. Maybe she should just go home, and leave him be. But she soon found herself walking towards him, and then she was sitting on the steps beside him. He looked up at her, and smiled grimly.
“What you doing out here?” Aurora asked softly, “You don’t even have a coat.”
Clint shrugged, “Didn’t think it was that cold.”
Aurora paused. He clearly didn’t want to be disturbed. He’d been deep in his own thoughts and she’d interrupted him. She should’ve just carried on up to her flat.
“Do you want me to get you one from our place?” she asked, sensing he might not want to go home right now.
Clint looked up at her with a curious expression.
“Nah, I’m alright.”
Aurora nodded.
Clint had seen her face fall, and quickly added, “But thanks anyway.”
Aurora smiled, “You sure you’re alright?”
“My dad’s back.”
The answer spoke volumes. Aurora had never met Clint’s father Rakhul, but from their walks to and from school each day, Aurora had picked up on Clint’s reaction when his father was brought up in conversation. His eyes would glaze over, almost go cold. And then one day a few months ago, Clint had met her at her door with a bruised arm, which she’d quickly spotted beneath his white school shirt. Upon questioning him, Clint had told her the truth about his father. How he was a drunk, violent and rude, to both his wife and his eldest son. Clint had insisted that his younger brother, Kojo, had never suffered physically, but had had to live with his father’s constant absence and distance towards them. Aurora could understand why Clint went cold when his father was discussed, and she understood the importance of his return now. Clint had been hoping he’d never come back, and now he was here.
“You aren’t throwing him a welcome home party then?” Aurora asked, jokingly, and Clint smiled for the first time that day. Aurora giggled, and Clint found himself once again admiring her perfectly white teeth.
“Nah, we didn’t know he was going to be coming back today,” Clint mumbled eventually.
Aurora picked up on his tone. What he me
ant was, they didn’t know if he was ever going to come back.
“What happened then?”
“How do you mean?” Clint asked.
“Well, your dad’s just come back,” Aurora said slowly, “And you’re sitting out here in the cold, on your own, without a coat. I guess something happened, or you wouldn’t be out here and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Clint looked into her eyes. She was smart, and she knew him so well.
“He started an argument with my mum,” Clint replied, hesitantly, “Something about the coffee being cold.”
“I hate cold coffee, but I don’t start arguments over it,” Aurora joked, but Clint didn’t smile this time.
“He was like he always is, ready to lay into her,” Clint continued, as if Aurora hadn’t spoken, “He went to punch her. I heard the noises, and went into the kitchen, where they were fighting. I grabbed him, and then he swung for me. So I hit him.”
“He deserved it,” Aurora said, “You were defending your mum. And yourself.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Aurora quickly sensed there was more. She wanted Clint to tell her everything, knowing that talking about a problem really did make it easier to cope with. But she didn’t want to strain things between them.
“What happened after that?”
Clint put his head in hands and shook his head.
“I beat him up,” he said bluntly.
Aurora was surprised, but didn’t show it in her voice; “Really? You shouldn’t feel guilty.”
“I beat him up, Aurora, I mean really beat him up. I knocked him out.”
Aurora couldn’t think of anything to say, but Clint saved her having to speak as he continued.
“And I don’t feel guilty, not for doing what I did,” Clint said. “I feel guilty for my mum and Kojo. What dad’s going to do to them when he comes round.”
Clint shuddered, his head still buried in his arms. Aurora put a reassuring hand on his back. She had been surprised by his revelation, but although she didn’t approve of violence, especially after what had happened to Shan, she didn’t think any less of Clint. In fact, she would probably have done the same thing in his position. Hell, she’d do the same thing to whoever had killed her sister. That was for sure.
Eventually, when Clint had regained some composure, Aurora spoke softly and soothingly, reassuring him that he hadn’t done anything wrong and that his father would most likely not try anything again, knowing that Clint could overpower him if he caused any aggravation. Clint seemed to be cheered slightly by her words, but Aurora couldn’t be sure. Men were too complex to fully understand, she thought to herself.
As Aurora continued reassuring him, Clint closed his eyes. Her voice was beautiful, and he had seen her face when she’d come over. It had shown real concern. She really did care about him. And now here she was, speaking to him, out in the cold, when she could’ve just walked past him and gone on home. He felt a pang of guilt when she mentioned the word ‘guilt’ again. He was feeling guilty, but not about his father. For her and her sister, Shaniqua. He lifted his head up, and smiled at Aurora.
“Thanks, but you’d better get home now, you’ll freeze to death,” Clint said.
Aurora seemed relieved.
“Yeah, you’d better get back too,” Aurora said, “With any luck, your dad might’ve run off again.”
They both smiled.
“Why were you out here anyway?” Clint asked, “You never said.”
“I was just taking a walk.”
Clint could tell it was something more.
“Problems with your mum again?” he asked gently.
Aurora paused for a moment, and then nodded.
“She been drinking already?” Clint asked, and then wanted to kick himself for his tactlessness.
“No, I don’t think so,” Aurora replied. “It’s not really mum, it’s just everything.”
“Shaniqua?” Clint asked cautiously, his voice cracking.
Aurora remained silent for a few moments, her eyes looking out over the concrete estate. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she brushed a strand of hair from her face, before nodding.
“Any suspects yet?”
“I’m not sure,” Aurora replied.
“Right.”
“Her funeral’s tomorrow.”
Clint was surprised. His constant fear of getting caught and sent to prison, and losing Aurora, had consumed his mind so much that he’d forgotten there would eventually be a funeral for Shaniqua. He felt the guilt rising in his stomach as he thought about how devastated Aurora would be tomorrow.
“You want me to come along?” Clint asked hesitantly, “For some support?”
Aurora turned to look at him with deep, piercing eyes. Clint maintained her gaze, at the same time fearing she would read his mind and deduce the part he’d played in Shaniqua’s death, but then Aurora’s gaze softened.
“No, it’s best if I’m alone, it might help me get some closure,” Aurora replied, “But thanks anyway. It means a lot to me.”
“Ok, well I’m here for you, like if you need me.”
Aurora smiled and hugged him. Clint froze. Her body, pressed against his, was all he’d dreamed about for weeks. When she pulled away, she rose to her feet and held out her hand.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” Aurora said, “And be quick, or you’ll freeze.”
CHAPTER NINE
The following day, Aurora awoke with a feeling of trepidation. She wasn’t sure what to expect at the funeral, wasn’t sure how she was supposed to behave, how much emotion she was expected to show. Her mother made breakfast, but Aurora could only manage a half-hearted attempt at eating some of it, before deciding she could eat no more, and retreating to the bathroom to shower.
Marlena had already showered and dressed before Aurora had woken up. As the pipes began creaking throughout the flat as Aurora turned the shower on, Marlena began clearing away the dishes, taking care not to spill anything on her black suit. It was the same black attire she’d worn to her husband’s funeral. A half-finished bottle of vodka stood on the kitchen counter, beckoning to her. Marlena looked away, but couldn’t help herself.
She found herself a glass and poured a hefty dose of the clear liquid into it. She drained the glass in one large gulp, and poured herself another. She felt for some chewing gum and found a piece in one of her pockets. She would need this soon, so Aurora didn’t smell anything on her breath. That was all she needed, Marlena thought, shuddering; Aurora flipping out at the funeral all because of a few drinks.
The noise of the running water stopped abruptly, and Marlena hastily screwed the lid back onto the bottle of vodka and placed it back on the counter, between bottles of vinegar and a jar of pickles, where she had taken it from. She heard the bathroom door open and the sound of Aurora moving down the corridor to her bedroom. Looking out of the kitchen door, Marlena saw the coast was clear and quickly poured herself another drink. After replacing the vodka bottle to its usual place, she took the glass with her to the bathroom, and locked the door behind her.
She looked at herself in the mirror and was surprised to realise how much she seemed to have aged in the past week. It was frightening, how much grief impacted not just your emotions but your body as well, she thought. She took a sip of the vodka, but couldn’t escape her own reflection. She heard Aurora call something to her from the bedroom, and Marlena poured the rest of the vodka down the sink and left the bathroom.
* * *
As Jessie left the flat in her school uniform, skirt pulled as high as it would go, and the door slammed behind her, Troy turned to his brothers, facing him across the kitchen table.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Tyrese and Trent exchanged cautious looks.
“Before we tell you anything, you have to swear you won’t say nothing,” Trent warned, “Not to anyone.”
“I swear.”
“Not even Brandy or Clint,” Trent pressed
.
“I swear, I won’t say a word,” Troy insisted.
Trent looked to Tyrese, who nodded slightly, giving him the go-ahead to tell Troy what had been bothering them for the past few weeks.
“So, little bro, you know that we’ve been making a good profit off selling our coke, right?” Trent began, and Troy nodded. “Well, it seems that someone else wants in on our profits, only we don’t want to share them with anybody.”
“Who is it?” Troy asked.
“Jayden Healy,” Trent replied, “We went to school with him, he’s a complete gob-shite and a waster. Off his face on his own gear most of the time.”
Tyrese held up a hand and Trent went quiet.
“Jayden also runs a gang, the Blood Brothers,” Tyrese explained.
“With his dumbass brother, Corey,” Trent interrupted.
“They ain’t nothing to worry about, bro,” Tyrese continued, ignoring Trent, “but they’re starting to test our patience. We’ve been told that some of Jayden’s guys are dealing on the estate.”
“They got some fucking nerve,” Troy said, clenching his fists, “Why don’t we fucking shoot him?”
Trent burst out laughing at the suggestion, and Tyrese suppressed a smile. They hadn’t realised how naive and aggressive their younger brother could be, but Tyrese knew it was just young teenage angst. They had all been there, done that, and most of them had lived to tell the tale.
“No, we don’t shoot him,” Tyrese said, “You never go for the leader, not yet anyway. But we need to teach Jayden a lesson, send him a warning to back off our patch.”
“So what are we going to do?” Troy asked.
“We’re going to wait for one of his dealers to come onto our patch, and we’re going to kick the crap out of him,” came the reply, “That should send the message to him, loud and clear.”
* * *
At the church, Aurora felt as if she had fallen into a different world. Getting out of the taxi with her mum, Aurora had been shocked by the large crowd of people who had turned up to pay their respects. Most wore black, but some, she noticed, were wearing coloured suits and were speaking loudly towards a row of huge cameras.
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