Jenny Downham - You Against Me

One

Mikey couldn’t believe his life.

Here was the milk on the counter in front of him. Here was

Ajay, hand out expectantly. And here was Mikey, scrabbling for

coins among the old receipts and bits of tissue in his jacket

pocket. A woman in the queue behind him shuffled her feet.

Behind her, a bloke coughed impatiently.

Anger stirred Mikey’s gut. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ll have to

leave it.’

Ajay shook his head. ‘Take the milk and pay me tomorrow,

it’s all right. And here, take some chocolate for your sisters.’

‘No. You’re OK.’

‘Don’t be daft, take it.’ Ajay put a couple of Kit Kats in the

carrier bag with the milk. ‘And have a good day, yeah?’

Mikey doubted it. He hadn’t had one of those for weeks.

Still, he managed a quick nod of thanks, grabbed the bag and

legged it.

Outside, the rain was still going, a fine mist falling into light

from the fluorescent strip above the door. He breathed in deep,

trying to smell the sea, but the air smelled of fridges – something

to do with the fans blowing warm from the shop behind him. He

yanked up his hood and crossed the road back to the estate.

When he got back to the flat, Holly was sitting on the

carpet in front of the TV, eating Cookie Crisps from the packet.

Karyn had stopped crying and was kneeling behind her, quietly

brushing her sister’s hair.

Mikey looked her up and down. ‘You feeling better?’

‘A bit.’

‘So, you want to tell me what happened?’

Karyn shrugged. ‘I tried to go out. I got as far as the front

door.’

‘Well, that’s something.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Crack open the champagne.’

‘It’s a start.’

‘No, Mikey, it’s the end. Holly needed milk for cereal and I

couldn’t even manage that.’

‘Well, I’ve got some now, so you want a cup of tea?’

He went to the kitchen and filled the kettle. He opened the

curtains, then the window. The rain was slowing down and it

smelled fresh out there now. He could hear a child crying. A

woman shouting. A door slammed three times. Bang. Bang.

Bang.

Holly came in and dumped the cereal box on the counter.

Mikey waggled the collar of her pyjama top. ‘Why aren’t you

dressed for school?’

‘Because I’m not going.’

‘Yeah, you are.’

She collapsed backwards against the fridge, her head flung

up towards the ceiling. ‘I can’t go to school, it’s the bail hearing!’

He frowned at her. How the hell did she know about that?

‘Listen, Holly, if you promise to go and get dressed, I’ll give you a

Kit Kat.’

‘Is it two or four sticks?’

‘Four.’

He rummaged in the carrier bag, pulled out one of the bars

and dangled it at her. ‘And can you wake Mum up?’

Holly looked up, surprised. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’ If this wasn’t an emergency, he didn’t know what

was.

Holly shook her head as if the idea was crazy, grabbed the

Kit Kat and ran away up the stairs.

Mum thought the police would help Karyn, that was the

trouble. After taking Karyn to the station and reporting what had

happened, Mum had stepped back, probably telling herself she’d

done her bit. But the police were crap. They’d asked Karyn loads

of personal questions, even though she was upset. Then the cop

who brought her home frowned at the mess, like she was judging

the whole family. Mum thought that was normal, but Mikey had

bitten his tongue in frustration, tasted blood in his mouth, the

rust and the thickness of it.

Later, when the cop went, Mikey got the address out of

Karyn and told Jacko to bring the car. Jacko brought the lads with

him too, but when they got to the bastard’s house they were too

late – Tom Parker had been arrested hours ago and forensics

were already scouring the place.

For nearly two weeks Mikey had tried to swallow the anger.

But how did he stop his stomach tilting every time Karyn cried?

How did he watch Holly stroking Karyn’s arm, squeezing her

shoulder, giving little wet taps to her face, like she was a radio

that needed tuning or a TV that had gone wrong?

Mum’s solution was to hide herself away. But an eightyear-

old comforting a fifteen-year-old meant the world was

upside down. And something had to be done about it.

He made the tea and took it through, put it on the table in

front of Karyn. She’d made a nest for herself on the sofa. She

kept doing that – covering herself with cushions, blankets,

jumpers.

Mikey went over and sat on the edge. ‘How you feeling

now?’

With the light behind her she looked so sad.

‘He’s probably out already,’ she said. ‘Just walking about

having a nice time.’

‘He won’t be allowed anywhere near you. He won’t be

allowed to text you or talk to you or anything. He’ll probably be

tagged, so he can’t go out after dark.’

She nodded, but she didn’t look sure. ‘There’s this girl at

school,’ she said. ‘Last term she had seven boyfriends and

everyone said she was a slag.’

This again. ‘You’re not a slag, Karyn.’

‘And there’s a boy in my tutor group and he had ten

girlfriends. You know what they call him?’

Mikey shook his head.

‘A player.’

‘Well, they’re wrong.’

‘So what’s the word for someone like him?’

‘I don’t know.’

She sighed, lay back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. ‘I

watched this programme on TV,’ she said. ‘What happened to

me happens to loads of girls. Loads and loads.’

Mikey looked at his nails. They were all ragged. Did he bite

them? When did he start doing that?

‘Most girls don’t report it, because hardly any boys get

done for it. Something like six in a hundred. That’s not very

many, is it?’

Mikey shook his head again, bit his lip.

‘When I opened the door just now, there were some kids

down in the courtyard and they all looked at me. If I go back to

school, everyone will stare at me too.’ She lowered her eyes and

he felt the shame wash off her in waves. ‘They’ll look at me as if I

deserved it. Tom Parker invited me to his house and I went, so

how can anything be his fault?’ She pushed a handful of hair

from her face. ‘That doesn’t even make any sense.’

He wanted her to stop talking. He felt a rising panic that if

she didn’t stop right now, she was going to go on and on for

ever. Maybe she’d even talk about the night it happened. He

couldn’t bear to listen to that again.

‘I’m going to get him for you,’ he said. It came out loud and

sounded very certain.

‘You are?’

‘Yeah.’

It was strange how words meant something when they

came out of your mouth. Inside your head they were safe and

silent, but once they were outside, people grabbed hold of them.

She sat up. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to go to his house and smash his head in.’

Karyn pressed the flat of her hand against her forehead as if

the thought of it gave her a headache. ‘You’ll never get away

with it.’

But Mikey could tell by the sudden glow in her eyes that

she wanted him to do this for her. He hadn’t done it and he

should have done it. And if he did it, then she could stop hurting.

There was a bloke on the estate no one messed with. He’d

got his son’s moped back when some kids nicked it. He knew

people who knew people. That was the kind of man everyone

admired. If you tried to hurt him, you’d bounce off. Mikey had

never battered anyone before, but the thought of that bloke

made him feel stronger. He stood up, certain of his plan. He’d go

alone this time, take gloves and wear a hoodie. If he didn’t leave

fingerprints, he’d get away with it.

He went to the kitchen and dragged the tool box out from

under the sink. Just holding the spanner made him feel better –

there was something about how heavy it was, how definite it felt

to hold it in his hand. The feelings went into the object. He felt

positively cheerful as he put on his jacket, rammed the spanner

into his pocket and did up his zip.

Karyn looked at him, her eyes shining. ‘You’re seriously

going to get him?’

‘Yep.’

‘And you’re seriously going to hurt him?’

‘I said so, didn’t I?’

And that’s when Mum staggered in, fag in hand, shielding

her eyes like everything was too bright.

Holly was jumping up and down behind her. ‘Look!’ she

cried. ‘Mum’s awake. She’s actually downstairs.’

‘Reporting for duty,’ Mum said.

It was like watching someone come up from a dive. She had

to remember who she was, that she really did live here, that

today was the bail hearing and this family really did need to get

their act together.

Holly cleared a place for her on the sofa, then sat on her lap

and rubbed noses with her. ‘Do I have to go to school? Can I

spend the day with you instead?’

‘Course you can.’

‘No!’ Mikey said. ‘Karyn’s cop’s coming round, remember?’

Mum frowned. ‘Is she, why?’

‘Because that’s what she does.’

‘I don’t want her to come any more,’ Karyn said. ‘She asks

stupid questions.’

‘Well, she’s coming anyway,’ Mikey snapped, ‘so Holly can’t

be here, can she? You want a cop to notice she’s not in school?’

Light dawned on his mother’s face. She looked around the

lounge and over to the kitchen. Both rooms were a mess – the

table covered in junk, unwashed plates and saucepans in the

sink.

‘You’ve got about an hour,’ Mikey told her.

She glared at him. ‘You think I don’t know that?’

Holly put the TV back on at top volume and music crashed

around them.

‘Turn it off,’ Mikey yelled. It would send their mum back to

bed. But Holly ignored him so he unplugged it.

Mum rubbed her face over and over. ‘Make me a coffee,

Mikey.’

Make it yourself, he thought. But still, he switched the

kettle back on and rinsed out a mug.

‘After this smoke I’ll wash up,’ Mum said. She took another

puff on her cigarette, then looked right at him in that way she

sometimes did, as if she could see right inside him. ‘You look

tired.’

‘Looking after you lot, that’s why.’

‘Where were you last night?’

‘Out and about.’

‘Were you with that new girlfriend? Sarah, is it?’

‘Sienna.’

‘That was the last one.’

‘No, that was Shannon.’

Holly laughed long and loud. ‘You’re so bad, Mikey!’

In his pocket the spanner hummed. He handed Mum her

coffee. ‘I have to go now.’

‘Go where?’

‘I’ve got business.’

She scowled at him. ‘I don’t want you looking for trouble.’

She was a bit clever like that. You thought she was hungover

and wouldn’t notice stuff, but she often did.

‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘Keep your nose out. We don’t need

any more hassle.’

But all he said was, ‘I’m going.’

‘What about Holly? She can’t walk to school on her own.’

‘Then you’ll have to take her. That’s what parents are for,

isn’t it?’

She shook her head at him. ‘You know what’s wrong with

you, Mikey?’

‘No, Mum, but I bet you’re about to tell me.’

She took up her fag, knocked off the ash and took a last

deep drag, blowing the smoke right at him. ‘You’re not as tough

as you think you are.’

Two

Down the stairs, two at a time. Past graffiti walls – AIMEE IS

A SLAPPER, LAUREN SUCKS FOR FREE, CALL TOBY IF YOU WANT

HOT SEX – and out the main doors into the street. Mikey swung a

left, avoiding the takeaway wrappers and beer cans strewn

round the bus shelter, dodging two old blokes with their

shopping trolleys taking up all the room on the pavement, and

started to run. Away from the estate, past the crowd of kids

outside Ajay’s with their breakfasts of crisps and Coke, past the

butcher’s and the card shop, towards the high street.

The sky was flat and grey. The air smelled of diesel and fish.

He ran through the market. The stalls were going up, the crazy

colours of the fruit and vegetables all chucked together. The

usual group of lads hung about on the benches. He ran past a girl

with a pram, a woman counting her change outside Lidl, an old

man with a walking stick, an old woman clutching his arm, both

tiny and hunched.

He was going to keep running until he got there. He was

going to mash Tom Parker. Tom Parker would never grow old.

At the traffic lights, a bloke leaned out of his car window

and whistled at a girl. ‘Smile for me, baby.’

The girl gave the bloke the finger, then saw Mikey and

waved. ‘Hiya, Mikey.’

He jogged on the spot as she crossed the road towards him.

‘Hey, Sienna. I can’t talk now.’

She pressed herself close, gave him a quick kiss. ‘You’re all

sweaty.’

‘I was running.’

‘Away from me?’

He shrugged as if that was too complicated to understand.

‘I need to go.’

She crossed her arms and frowned at him. ‘Will I see you

later?’

It was like the world got bigger or louder or something,

pressing in on him and asking for stuff. He looked right at her,

tried to feel what he’d felt only a minute earlier when he saw her

waving, some sort of warmth.

‘Meet me at work,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘You don’t mind? Well, thanks very much!’ She wrapped

her arms around herself, didn’t even look back at him as she

walked away.

He wasn’t good for her. He wasn’t actually sure he’d ever

be good for anyone. He couldn’t be bothered most of the time.

Girls asked too many questions, and they always expected you to

know how they were feeling, and he was always getting it wrong.

He’d lost minutes now, lost momentum. He started running

again. Away from the high street, following the curve of Lower

Road. Groups of kids walked slowly in the same direction – a

gathering, a building up. Karyn should be with them. He ran in

the road to avoid them, past the teachers’ car park, past the

gates.

He stalled when he saw some of Karyn’s mates on the

bridge, four of them huddled together looking down at the

water. One of them spotted him and nudged the others and they

all turned round.

He was supposed to stop, he knew that. He was supposed

to go over and tell them how Karyn was, to pass on her thanks

for the notes and little presents they kept sending. But he knew

what would happen if he did – they’d ask questions. Like, When

will she see us? And, Why won’t she answer our texts? Like,

When’s the trial? And, Do you think she’ll ever come back to

school? And he’d have to tell them that he didn’t know, that

nothing had changed since the last time they’d asked.

He snapped on a smile and waved. ‘Can’t stop.’

Dodging cars, faster now, over the junction, past the station

and up the Norwich Road. One foot in front of the other like a

warrior. He thought of Karyn as he ran. He was the only brother

she had and it was his job to take care of her. He’d never felt that

before, the terrible responsibility of it. He felt adult, male,

purposeful. He could do this, he really could. It’d be easy. He

checked his pocket for the spanner. It was still there. It felt right

and good.

His legs burned now. He could taste salt on his tongue, like

the sea got caught in the air on this side of town. It was fresher

here, wilder. There was more space for things. Here was Wratton

Drive, Acacia Walk and Wilbur Place. Even the names were

different, the trees taller.

He slowed to a jog. Here was the lane, like something from

a country magazine. Here was the gated entrance. And behind it,

the house with its lawn and windows, its shine and curtains and

space. There was even a Jag XJ sparkling in the driveway.

Mikey heaved himself over the gate and walked in a

straight line up the gravel drive. Things would never be the same

after he knocked on the door. He knew it like it was written

down and stamped with a seal. He was going to mash Tom

Parker and watch him leak all over the doorstep.

The knocker was brass, a lion with a bushy mane and

golden eyes. He banged it hard, three times. He wanted them to

know he meant business.

Nothing. Nobody came.

There was a kind of hush instead, like everything suddenly

shut up and was listening, like all the objects in the posh house

took a breath and held it in. He touched the wall to steady

himself, then knocked again.

A girl opened the door. She was wearing a skirt and T-shirt.

Bare legs, bare arms.

She said, ‘Yes?’

He wasn’t expecting a girl. A girl the same age as Karyn. He

could hardly look at her.

‘Are you with the caterers?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Are you here to do the food?’

Maybe he didn’t have the right house. He checked the door

for a number, but there wasn’t one. He looked inside the

hallway, as if that would give him a clue. It was huge, all wooden

floor and fancy rugs. There was a table, a bench, an umbrella

stand, a place for boots and shoes.

The girl said, ‘Shall I get my mum?’

He looked at her again – the little skirt she was wearing, the

blues and purples of her T-shirt, the way she had her hair in a

ponytail that swung.

He said, ‘Are you Tom Parker’s sister?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is he here?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘No.’

The sound of a dog barking inside the house. It stopped.

Silence.

‘Where is he then?’

She stepped out, pulled the door shut behind her and

leaned against it. ‘Are you a friend of his?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then you know where he is.’

He fingered the spanner in his pocket. ‘Well, I know the bail

hearing’s today. I just wondered when he’d be home.’

‘We don’t know.’

Seconds went past, minutes maybe. For the first time he

noticed a raw-looking scar running from the corner of her mouth

down her chin. She saw him looking and stared right back. He

knew about girls and she felt bad about that scar.

He smiled. ‘So, what’s your name then?’

She blushed, but didn’t look away. ‘My dad put a message

on Tom’s Facebook page to tell his friends what was happening.’

Mikey shrugged. ‘I haven’t checked my computer for days.’

‘Do you know him from college?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I haven’t seen you before.’

He thought of the college in town where he’d gone to ask

about catering courses once, and held her gaze. ‘Well, I’m so

busy studying, I don’t get time to socialize. I don’t want to mess

up my exams.’

She obviously fell for it because her face softened. ‘Tell me

about it. Mine start in May and I’ve hardly done any work.’

That was ages away, why was she worrying? But talking

about it changed something in her. She leaned towards him a

fraction, as if she’d decided to trust him. ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘we’re

having a party later.’

A party? Because her brother was out on bail?

‘Come if you like. Tom could do with friends around him

tonight.’

But before he could tell her what he thought of that, a

woman came round the corner of the house, waving crisply at

them. ‘At last,’ she called. ‘I was beginning to panic.’

The girl shot him a look of apology. ‘She thinks you’re the

caterer.’

The woman came up, swinging a clipboard and looking at

Mikey. ‘You’re with Amazing Grazing, yes?’

The girl sighed. ‘No, Mum. He’s not.’

‘Oh, who are you then? Are you the marquee man?’

He was supposed to answer. He was supposed to say no,

but all he could think was that she would realize at once, that

she wouldn’t be fooled like her daughter. She would call the dog,

security guards, the police.

‘He’s one of Tom’s friends, Mum.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, Tom’s not due until later.’

‘I told him that.’

The woman turned to her. ‘It’s all right, love. Why don’t you

get back to your revision?’

The girl gave Mikey a quick smile, then went back through

the door and shut it behind her. He was left with the mother.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘We really are very busy.’

He hated her. That she didn’t know him at all, that she

dismissed him so easily.

‘Come back for the party. All Tom’s friends are welcome.’

She walked briskly away clutching her clipboard, her bony arse

barely moving. No meat to her, no swing.

He stood there for a minute, wondering if it was all a joke.

He looked at the driveway, at the trees lining the fence, at

the electric gate – so different from the estate, the noise of

people living close together. Where were the cars, the yelling,

the doors slamming, the sound of other people’s lives?

In his jacket pocket, the spanner hurt his ribs. He smiled as

he walked round the Jag twice. Karyn said the bastard’s car was

snazzy. Here it was – yellow as a canary and so clean it reflected

the sky in its windows.

It was easy, like running a pen across paper, and so

satisfying to know how expensive it would be to fix. He let the

spanner find a route, let it zigzag across the door, scratch a

dented path across the wheel trim and over the bonnet – like a

tin you could open if you cut all the way round, then ripped off

the lid. The only thing missing was blood.

He’d come back for that later.

Three

There’s a way of slicing the skin from an orange that means

none of the bitter white stuff gets left on the fruit. Mikey didn’t

use to know this. Dex had taught him. It was hypnotic, seeing if

he could peel the whole thing without the skin breaking once,

coils of bright orange trailing to the floor. He liked his fingers

being sticky. He liked knowing that when he’d peeled the whole

lot, Dex was going to show him how to make a brandy glaze.

There was peace at the pub. Routine. Jacko poured peas

and sweetcorn into saucepans of hot water. Dex scrubbed

potatoes by the back door, his bare feet in the rain. Mikey had

sorted the salad bar like he did every morning – prawn cocktail,

egg mimosa, coleslaw. They were OK, the three of them.

Everything was as it should be. It was easy to forget the world

outside.

‘You two boys are quiet today,’ Dex said. ‘You got girl

trouble again?’

Mikey shook his head. ‘Not the kind you mean.’

‘I have,’ Jacko said. ‘I can’t get one.’

‘Sienna’s got a sister,’ Mikey said.

‘What’s she like?’

‘Dunno, never met her.’

‘How long you been seeing Sienna?’

‘Two weeks.’

Jacko laughed. ‘Well, introduce me to her sister quick, ’cos

that’s a world record for you.’

Dex waved the peeler at him. ‘If I had daughters, you two

would terrify me.’

‘It’s Mikey you want to be scared of,’ Jacko said. ‘He can get

any girl he wants, I swear it. Hey, Mikey, tell Dex about your first

time.’

‘With Sienna?’

‘No, your very first time.’

Mikey grinned. ‘I’m not telling him that.’

‘She went down on him,’ Jacko said. ‘Met her in a bar,

never even knew her name and she went down on him.’

Dex tutted. ‘That stuff’s private. You shouldn’t be talking

about things like that.’

‘Can you believe it?’ Jacko said. ‘That any girl would do

that?’

‘I can’t believe half the things you two get up to,’ Dex said.

Mikey wondered what Dex would think if he knew about

Sienna crying into her pillow the night before. How he hadn’t

wanted to kiss her, how he couldn’t be bothered to undress her,

how he’d almost changed his mind about the whole thing and

then crept home in the middle of the night.

He stared at Dex for a bit, trying to work him out. He had a

shaved head and a mad French accent and he looked like he’d

thump you if you eyed him wrong, but Mikey had never heard

him raise his voice, never seen him lose his temper. He had

tattoos on his hands that he did himself with a pin and a bottle of

ink – I LOVE SUE spread across his knuckles. He did stuff for her

too – fantastic grub after hours, presents when it wasn’t her

birthday. He even wrote her a song once. Jacko said he was a

doormat. But maybe that was love?

The door swung open and Sue stood there. She folded her

arms and looked the three of them up and down. ‘I need a

cleaner. Someone chucked up in the bogs last night.’

‘You’re looking at chefs, mon amour,’ Dex told her, without

looking up from his peeling.

She snorted, took a step in and tapped Mikey on the

shoulder. ‘You’ll do.’

Mikey shook his head at her. ‘I’m about to make a flan.’

‘It’s a pub, not a Gordon bloody Ramsay restaurant. You’re

here to pot-wash, and you’re here to clean the toilets if that’s

what I want you to do. Come on, we open in twenty minutes.’

He took the plastic apron she offered and tied it over his

jeans. He followed her through the bar to the cleaning cupboard.

She handed him a mop, a bucket, a bottle of bleach, then led him

to the toilets. ‘And make sure you wash your hands after.’

As he threw buckets of hot water and bleach into the bogs,

Mikey felt a heaviness settle over him. It was all right if he was in

the kitchen, or out with Jacko. Even with a girl it went away a bit.

But these last two weeks, whenever he was at home or just by

himself, it crashed back. As he washed down the walls with a

mop, he thought about where he’d be in a year, two, five. He

counted out ages. In five years Karyn would be twenty. Holly

would be thirteen. His mum would be forty-two. He’d be twentythree.

He shrugged the numbers away in irritation. It was the

kind of calculation kids did. Go too far with numbers like that and

you ended up dead.

He tried not to breathe in the stink as he swilled the mop

under the tap. He tried to remember that one day he’d be worth

more than this. He’d live in London, maybe get a place in

Tottenham, where his mum grew up. He’d have a chef’s job and

earn tons of cash. He’d get season tickets for Spurs and invite

Holly to all the home games. He tried to believe it as he put

everything back in the cleaning cupboard and washed his hands

with soap from the dispenser.

He needed a fag. Surely Sue wouldn’t moan at him for that?

The bogs were sparkling. Outside, it was raining hard, a sudden

rush dumping from the sky. He liked it. It matched his mood.

He stared at the cars parked by the harbour wall, their

windows steamed up, the people inside waiting for the pub to

get its act together and serve them lunch.

The door swung open and Jacko came and lit up a fag next

to him. Together they watched a girl walk past, hands in her

pockets, shoulders shrugged against the rain. Jacko sucked his

teeth. ‘I love the way every single one of them is different.’

He was always coming out with mad stuff. It was

comforting. With your oldest friend you should be free to say

what was on your mind.

‘Bail today,’ Mikey said.

Jacko nodded. ‘I saw your mum in the pub last night. She

reckoned he’ll definitely get it this time.’

‘The cops made some deal with his lawyer, that’s why. Soon

he’ll be running about like he did nothing wrong.’

‘What’re you going to do?’

‘Dunno. Got to do something though. Karyn says she’s

never leaving the flat again.’

Jacko looked at Mikey long and hard. ‘You serious?’

‘I told her he wouldn’t be allowed near her, but it made no

difference.’

‘Bastard!’

Mikey nodded, knew Jacko would understand. ‘I went by

his house again. I wanted to get him, but he wasn’t there.’

‘You went solo?’

‘I got mad. I had to do something.’ Mikey threw his fag end

into a puddle, listened to it hiss. ‘Anyway, you were at work.’

‘I’d drop everything.’ Jacko slapped Mikey’s back with the

flat of his hand. ‘You should know that.’

Mikey told him the whole story then – the spanner, the

journey to the house, the party to celebrate getting bail. It was

good standing there talking about it. It warmed Mikey up.

‘They’ve got caterers and everything. I met his mum and

sister and they thought I was a mate of his, even invited me to

the fucking thing.’

Jacko whistled. ‘Man, that’s mental!’

‘Imagine telling Karyn that. Imagine how that’ll make her

feel.’

‘Don’t tell her, it’s too harsh.’ Jacko chucked his rollie stub

into the puddle at their feet. Two soggy cigarette butts floating

together like a couple of boats.

A plan began to form in the silence. It was a crazy plan, and

Mikey tried to push it away, but it kept building. He thought of

home, told himself he should have a kick-about in the courtyard

with Holly to make up for not taking her to school, told himself

he had to get some shopping in case Mum forgot. But the plan

wouldn’t go away. His family would have to manage – he

couldn’t look after them all the time. ‘You busy tonight?’

A slow smile dawned on Jacko’s face. ‘We’re going to crash

the party?’

‘I promised Karyn I’d get him. Why not get him on the night

he least expects it?’

‘You want me to call backup?’

He meant Woody, Sean, Mark – the lads they’d gone to

school with, the ones they’d fought side-by-side with through

years of playground scraps and teen battles over territory. They

still met up for regular games of pool and a pint, but all of them

had moved on. Woody was married now, even had a kid on the

way. Sean and Mark were apprentice brickies. The night Karyn

came back from the police station, they’d been solid when Jacko

called them. None of them would forget the anger they shared

that night, but it wasn’t fair to ask them again. Karyn was his

sister, this was his fight.

‘We’ll get noticed if we go team-handy.’

Jacko nodded. Mikey could see him running over the basics

in his head – tactics and plans for intel kicking in. In school fights,

Jacko had been strategy king. His hours on the Xbox proved

useful in the real world.

Sue came out then and tapped at her watch.

‘There’ll be loads of people there,’ Jacko said as they

followed her back through the bar. ‘But we’ll have darkness as

cover.’ He held the door to the kitchen open. Dex had the radio

tuned in to his usual country station, where the songs were

always about divorce and heartache and preachers. He waved

the peeling knife at them.

‘My boys!’ he said.

Jacko leaned in to Mikey. ‘You want me to drive?’

‘You’re up for it?’

‘Course! I’m here for you, man. I’ll do whatever you need.’

Mikey smiled. It was the first time anything had gone right

for days.

Four

Ellie Parker sat on the patio steps and waved her arms like

antennae at the sun. It was strange, because as she did this, the

whole garden fell suddenly silent. She held her breath because

she didn’t want to spoil it, it was so beautiful. For a moment, it

was as if she was controlling the universe. Then the catering

woman clunked past carrying a stack of boxes, and her mother

came up with her clipboard and said, ‘Thank goodness that rain’s

stopped.’

Ellie tugged a leaf from the bay tree and broke it in half,

smelled it, then ripped it to shreds. She scattered the sharp

pieces over the steps. She ripped another and another, their

green turning bruised and ruined in her hands.

Her mother sat next to her and leaned in close. ‘Stop

worrying, love. Your brother’s safely in the car on his way home.’

‘What if the police change their minds?’

‘It’s been through Crown Court. There’s no going back.’

‘What if they suddenly get new information?’

Mum shook her head, smiling confidently. ‘Dad’s got

everything under control and we’re going to get through this,

you wait and see.’

Ellie wanted to believe her, but sometimes when she closed

her eyes she saw things that felt impossible to get through. She

saw Tom taken in for questioning, pale and scared as they led

him away. She saw the van parked in the driveway with

SCIENTIFIC SERVICES written on the side, and the scene-of-crime

officers in their black clothes walking out of the house with

Tom’s laptop, his bed sheets and duvet in plastic bags. Then

there were the lads in the car who watched everything from the

lane, so you just knew it would be all over town by morning. She

saw the officer put a padlock and tape on Tom’s door and heard

him say, ‘Don’t tamper with it, please, this room is a crime scene

now.’ And Dad said, ‘Surely we have rights in our own home?’

Mum sat on the stairs and wept. Tears washed into her mouth.

Ellie concentrated on trying to calm the nerves in her belly.

It was as if something was stuck there and needed to come out.

She looked around the garden at the empty tables and stacks of

chairs, at the boxes of lanterns waiting to be hung, at the ladder

leaning against the fence, and she wished more than anything

that it could be just the four of them tonight – back in their old

house, miles from here, with a takeaway and a DVD.

Mum nudged her, as if reading her thoughts. ‘It’ll be fine,

Ellie, really it will. We’re getting our Tom back. Let’s try and be

happy today.’

Ellie nodded, but couldn’t quite look her in the eye. ‘Mum,

can I tell you something?’

Her mother’s smile died at the corners, her whole body

stiffened. ‘You can talk to me about anything, you know that.’

‘Karyn McKenzie’s not taking her exams. In fact, she’s left

school.’

They sat in awkward silence for a minute. Ellie gnawed on

her lip. She should have kept quiet, but it was hard holding on to

so many things. Sometimes the smaller ones slipped out.

‘I had a friend,’ her mother said, ‘who got attacked by two

men and dragged into a car. She didn’t make it up, it really

happened. It was terrible and brutal, but she used it as a turning

point and changed everything about her life.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means,’ her mother said, standing up and brushing

nonexistent fluff from her trousers, ‘that you make your own

luck. Now I’m going to talk to the marquee man. If you hear the

car, shout for me. I want to be there when he arrives. And if

you’re stuck for something to do, put some balloons up.’

Sometimes Ellie imagined Karyn McKenzie as monstrous –

cloaked and hooded and laughing maniacally as she clawed Tom

down into a sulphurous pit. In real life she knew she was tall and

skinny with long dark hair and she lived on a housing estate

across town. She fancied Tom, had done for ages apparently. She

was clearly desperate for him to notice her that Saturday night,

with her red-hot nail varnish, purple lipstick and flaming orange

mini-skirt stretched tight around her thighs. At school she had a

reputation for being good at Art and pretty much crap at

everything else. It did seem crazy to give up your exams though –

even a few GCSEs could lead to college and maybe a career of

some kind. If you gave up in Year Eleven, then the whole thing

slid away from you for ever.

A girl walked by carrying two silver tea trays. She was Ellie’s

age, maybe a bit older, dressed in a black skirt and white shirt.

She stopped in front of Ellie, said, ‘You’re the sister, right?’ She

leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘What’s it like then? Must be

weird for you.’ She was wearing a lot of make-up.

Ellie said, ‘Haven’t you got work to do, or something?’ Then

she stood up and walked round the side of the house to the

driveway.

Sometimes it felt physical, as if walls were moving slowly

towards her. Sometimes it felt psychological, a strange panic in

her brain, which meant if she had to live in this nightmare for

one more minute she’d self-combust. The only way she knew to

deal with it was to switch off and think of something else, which

was becoming increasingly difficult. Walking away was a whole

lot easier. She didn’t go far because she didn’t have a coat on,

just up the gravel drive to the electric gate. She pressed the

button, waited for it to slide open and stepped through. The lane

was churned to mud and patched with dirty puddles, the first

few daffodils trembled on the grass verge. The gate shut behind

her.

This was the lane she watched from her window every

night, wondering when Tom would come home. Trust me, his

letter said. She’d wanted the words to take off from the page

and circle the sky. Bold, neon words swooping low over town,

skimming shops and houses before sweeping up the coast road

to hang permanently above the sea. Trust me. And everyone

would read the words and have faith. The court case would be

dropped and they’d all go back to normal.

But faith was hard to hold on to. After twelve whole days

and nights, Ellie was unravelling. She couldn’t sit, couldn’t stand,

found it difficult to concentrate on anything. The day was moving

quickly, every minute hurtling forwards; even the hours she’d

spent doing revision had rushed by.

A cloud passed the sun then, and darkness came skimming

down the lane, creating a dark pool of shadow at her feet. A dog

barked from some neighbour’s garden and almost immediately

the cloud shifted and the world glared so brightly that she had to

shield her eyes. When she could see again, her dad’s car was

cornering the lane. And, like a magic trick, Tom’s face was at the

window, grinning at her.

Ellie whooped. She couldn’t help it, it came bursting out of

her as the car drew near.

‘He’s here!’ she yelled, and her mum must’ve been close

by, because she came running round the side of the house

waving her clipboard.

‘Open the gate, Ellie, let them in!’

Here he was, like the Pope, stepping out of the car and into

the garden. Mum ran to him, laughing, and he opened his arms

to her. They swayed together for a moment as if they were

dancing. Ellie was surprised at how tender it was.

She felt strangely shy of him as he looked over their

mother’s shoulder and smiled at her, as if she’d become an adult

in the last fortnight and this was her house and he was the guest.

He looked different – thinner maybe.

Ellie said, ‘They let you out then?’

He laughed as he ambled over. ‘The police wanted to keep

me, it’s true, but I told them I missed my sister.’ He put an arm

round her and squeezed her for a moment. ‘You OK?’

She smiled. ‘I am now.’

His eyes slid back to the car, to Mum heaving his rucksack

out of the boot, to Dad unloading the suitcase. It was the case

he’d taken skiing. Strange to think it had been in an aeroplane

and all the way to the Alps as well as to the young offenders’ unit

in Norwich.

Dad wheeled it towards them. ‘Take a look over there,

Tom, at what your sister’s done.’

Ellie felt embarrassed as her dad pointed out the banner

strung along the fence. It had taken her three afternoons, but it

seemed a bit cheesy now. She’d painted the four of them under

a rainbow with a giant heart around them. At the top, she’d

created a family coat of arms with the motto TOM PARKER IS

INNOCENT. But the whole thing was beginning to rip at the

corners where she’d tacked it to the fence. It looked more like a

tatty old bed sheet than something she once cared about.

‘Took her hours,’ Dad said, and he gave Ellie a smile. It was

the first time he’d looked directly at her for days.

Tom gave her a nudge. ‘It’s sweet, Ellie, thanks.’

Mum came up with Tom’s jacket in her arms, stroking it,

smoothing it flat. ‘There’s a bit of a surprise round the back too,’

she said.

‘What kind of surprise?’ Tom looked suspicious and Ellie felt

her pulse race. This hadn’t been her idea and she knew Tom

might hate it.

‘Let’s get it over with,’ she said, and she led him round the

side of house.

A marquee had blossomed on the lawn. The tables inside

were lit with heaters, their chairs neatly placed around them.

Plates, glasses and cutlery were stacked on a trestle table. This

was where the food was going, and already the waitresses were

laying out tablecloths and napkins. Up in the walnut tree,

Chinese lanterns gently swung, and on every available fence

post, strings of balloons tugged in the breeze.

Ellie watched Tom taking it all in. ‘It’s a party,’ she said.

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I gathered that.’

‘You don’t like it, do you?’ She spun round to her parents. ‘I

told you he wouldn’t like it. Didn’t I say?’

Her father’s face darkened with annoyance. ‘Shall we let

Tom decide if he likes it or not, Eleanor?’

Mum put her hand on Tom’s arm. ‘Would you rather have

no fuss?’

‘You’ve gone to loads of trouble,’ Tom said. ‘But what if I

hadn’t got bail?’

Mum did a sort of punctured laugh. ‘Your father refused to

entertain that possibility.’

‘Never a doubt,’ Dad said breezily. ‘I booked the caterers

days ago, that’s how certain I was.’ He reached over and patted

Tom on the back. ‘So, what do you reckon? Pleased with it?’

‘It’s fine.’ Tom took another look around. ‘You never know,

it may even be fun.’

‘Good, well done.’ Dad beamed at him. ‘We’ve invited

everyone who matters. We need to show the world you’ve got

nothing to hide.’ He gestured to the suitcase. ‘I’ll take this

upstairs, then I’ve got a few calls to make. You relax, Tom. You’re

home and safe now.’

Mum laid her hand flat against Tom’s cheek. ‘I’ll take your

jacket in, and check how things are going with the caterers.’

It was weird how they kept explaining themselves – they’d

been doing it since Tom got arrested. I’m just popping into the

office. I’m going upstairs to see if I can grab some sleep. We’ll be

with the lawyer for a while. It was as if they thought they’d

disappear if they didn’t say where they were.

‘What are you two going to do?’ Mum said.

Tom smiled. ‘We’ll find something.’

Five

The spare room was pink with flocked wallpaper. Ellie and

her mum hadn’t been able to do anything about that, but they’d

got Tom a new mattress and changed the curtains. They’d put

the portable TV up on a wall bracket and spread DVDs and books

along the shelf.

Tom stood in the doorway and shook his head at it. ‘I feel

like a guest.’

It was gloomy inside and Ellie snapped on the light. ‘Didn’t

Dad tell you?’

‘Probably.’ Tom crossed to the bed and sat down,

smoothed the duvet with his hands. ‘I don’t listen to half the

stuff he says.’

‘Well, he tried to get the police to take the lock off your

bedroom door, but everything seems to take so long. It’s all new

though, the duvet and everything. Me and Mum went shopping.’

‘I always think of Gran when I see this room,’ he said. ‘All

those pills she had and how crazy she was.’ He looked about,

wrinkled his nose. ‘It still smells of her in here.’

‘We put the commode in the loft, so it shouldn’t. Open the

window.’

‘Does she know about me?’ He shot Ellie a glance. ‘Or is it

too shameful?’

‘She barely knows her own name. I think they’re waiting to

see the outcome before they tell her anything.’

‘The outcome? Christ, you sound like Dad.’ He reached into

his pocket and found his cigarettes, walked to the window and

opened it.

Ellie watched him light a cigarette and pull smoke hard into

his lungs. It was like fingers down chalkboards or forks over

plates. The desperation of it. She wanted to cover her ears, look

away. But instead, she sat and watched him inhale and exhale

three more times. Finally, he turned to her.

‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘Dad’s driving me nuts. He fired the lawyer who mucked up

my first bail application and got some top-notch bloke instead.

He doesn’t trust him though, talks to him as if he’s a kid fresh out

of law school.’

‘He wants the best for you.’

Tom smiled grimly at her. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

‘It’ll be over soon.’

‘You think? According to the top-notch guy, it’s only just

begun.’

He blew the last smoke out into the garden, then tossed

the butt after it. ‘You want to do something exciting?’

‘OK.’

‘Good. Wait there.’

He wasn’t gone long, came back with the hair clippers and

planted them in her hand. ‘Cut it all off.’

She was stunned. ‘All of it?’

‘Short back and sides. I don’t want it long any more.’

‘I don’t know how to use them. I’ve never done it before.’

‘It’s easy, like cutting grass.’

He set up a chair in the corner of the room by the mirror,

then spread newspaper on the floor.

‘Will you be angry if I get it wrong?’

Tom ripped off his T-shirt. ‘Promise I won’t. Anyway, I’ve

got no choice. The nearest barber is in the high street, and my

bail conditions don’t let me anywhere near it.’

He straddled the chair and Ellie stood behind him, wielding

the clippers. Their eyes met in the mirror.

She said, ‘This is the most dangerous thing anyone’s ever

asked me to do.’

He laughed. ‘Then you’ve led a very sheltered life.’

But it had taken Tom ages to grow his hair. It was what

defined him, how people described him. Tom – you know, the

boy with all that blond hair. That he wanted it gone was scary.

That he’d chosen her to do it, that the bedroom door was shut,

that it was private – these were the things that made it feel

dangerous.

‘Honestly, Tom, I don’t think I can. What if I take off too

much and you end up a skinhead?’

‘Please, Ellie, before I change my mind.’

She held up a long strand of hair, but hesitated with the

clippers. ‘You might change your mind? What if you do?’

‘I’m kidding. Just do it.’

Handful after handful fell to the floor and onto her bare

feet. It drifted beyond the newspaper, driven by the breeze from

the window, and piled up in the corner like a nest. His face

changed as the hair fell. His eyes looked bigger, his ears

appeared, the back of his neck became vulnerable. It was as if

she was exposing him.

‘You look younger,’ was all she said when he asked why she

looked sad. And when he wanted to know what was sad about

being young, she told him that actually she was glad to be cutting

his hair because she’d always been jealous of how good he

looked with it long …

‘I want your metabolism too,’ she said. ‘You get to eat

whatever you want and look like a stick, but I eat one chocolate

and I turn to pudge. How come you get all the luck?’

He shook his head. ‘You don’t even know, do you?’

‘Know what?’

‘How pretty you are. Everyone says so.’

‘Everyone?’

‘You know what my mate Freddie calls you?’

She shook her head, slightly afraid.

‘Mermaid, that’s what.’

‘That’s not even a compliment. Mermaids just sit about on

rocks all day.’

He laughed. ‘They’re not easy, that’s the point. No one gets

to shag a mermaid because they don’t let you.’

Ellie thought it was more to do with the fact that they had

nothing below the waist but a tail, but maybe she was wrong

about that, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned the

attention back to him, because despite everything, she loved him

and he needed to know that. As she clipped the hair round his

ears, she quietly recited a list of all the nice things he’d ever

done for her.

It included everything, from drawing pictures for her to

colour in (which was years ago), through starting school (when

he let her hang out with him in the playground, even though she

was two years younger and a girl). Right up to the holiday in

Kenya when the dog tried to bite her a second time and he stood

in the way (which was the most heroic thing anyone had ever

done for her).

‘Before we moved house,’ she said, ‘whenever my friends

came round, you’d always hang out for a bit and talk to us. If we

ever saw you in town, you’d wave or come over and chat, like

you were genuinely interested. No one else’s brother ever

bothered. I’ve always been proud of you for that.’

He smiled up at her. ‘You say the sweetest things.’

‘Well, you do the sweetest things. You made that speech at

my sixteenth birthday saying how I was the best sister in the

world, remember? And when I did that stupid leaving concert at

school, you clapped loudest even though I was total rubbish and

forgot all my words.’

Tom laughed as she reminded him of these things. It was

great. Everything pulled together. He told the story of the

summer they’d gone camping in southern France and the site

was dull, dull, dull. The swimming pool was shut and the

entertainment was rubbish and the only good things were the

pâtisserie and the kites they’d bought from the shop.

‘We found that hill,’ he said, ‘you know the one? We flew

the kites from the top and when we got bored we rolled all the

way down and ran back up again.’

Ellie was amazed he remembered. She could have cut his

hair for hours then. She loved how cosy it was together in the

spare room, how she could hear the vague sounds of people

setting up the party, their voices low and far away. It gave her

courage. ‘Can we talk about what happened that night?’

He swung round on the chair to look at her. ‘Really? Can’t I

just have a break?’

Ellie lowered her eyes. ‘There are things I don’t

understand.’

He frowned at her. ‘Have you been talking to anyone?’

‘Not really.’ Ellie had a drifting sensation, as if this

conversation was surrounded by smoke. ‘I haven’t been back to

school yet.’

There was silence as they looked at each other. ‘If I go

down, Ellie, it’ll be the end of everything for me.’

‘I know.’

‘There are guys in there …’ His voice trailed off and he

shook his head as if he’d seen the most unspeakable things. ‘It

was the longest two weeks of my life.’

There was something in his eyes. Their dark shine reminded

her of the autumn he broke his arm, how he sat on the football

field and howled with fury, because he had to miss the whole

season and he’d only just made the team. She looked away.

‘There,’ she said. ‘I’ve finished.’ She stroked her hands over

his hair, smoothing flyaway strands. ‘It’s cute.’

‘Cute?’ He rubbed his own hand over his head. ‘That wasn’t

quite what I had in mind.’

‘What did you want to look like?’

‘Innocent.’ He smiled at her in the mirror. ‘Inoffensive and

above suspicion.’

She sat on his bed and watched him dust the hair from his

shoulders with his T-shirt. He sprayed deodorant under his arms,

splashed aftershave onto his hands, rubbed them together then

smoothed his palms across his face.

‘Will I have to go to court and answer questions?’ she

asked. ‘Or will they just read out my statement?’

He ignored her, pulled on his new stripy T-shirt. She’d

chosen it for him with Mum last week and it still had the label

on. He ripped it off and passed it to her. ‘Recycling,’ he said.

She put it in her pocket. ‘Did you hear me?’

He fiddled with his shirt, straightening it in the mirror. ‘You

were the only other person here the whole time, which makes

you the primary witness. You’ll definitely have to go to court.’

Her stomach gripped. ‘They can’t make me say anything.’

‘They can’t make you say anything if you didn’t see

anything.’

She nodded. She felt a mixture of pity and fear as she

looked at him, because the thought of what she should or

shouldn’t say made her feel scared. She’d been worrying about it

for two weeks. It had been so bad one day that she’d fantasized

that a nuclear bomb had gone off and she was the only person

left alive. In the fantasy, she’d wandered about opening and

closing doors, stirring up dust, picking things up and putting

them down. It had been so peaceful.

She gnawed at her lip again. ‘When the police interviewed

me, I told them I went straight upstairs to bed when you brought

everyone back.’

‘Well, that’s fine then.’

She blushed at the memory of scrambling up from the sofa

in her slippers and pyjamas. Karyn and her mate Stacey glittered,

surrounded by boys, fresh from the pub. They smiled down at

her, told her she should stay and talk to them. But she knew by

the look on her brother’s face that he wanted her safe upstairs,

and she felt such an idiot making an excuse about having a

headache.

‘The other thing I told them,’ Ellie said, ‘was I looked out of

my window later and saw everyone outside.’

Tom turned from the mirror and blinked at her. ‘I didn’t

know that.’

‘I just said everyone looked like they were having a good

time and you and Karyn had your arms round each other.’

‘What did you say that for?’

‘Because the police need to know she fancied you. Was

that wrong?’

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘There’s no need to get upset. It’s me

they’re going to grill, not you.’

‘She was flirting with you all night though.’ Ellie curled her

fists tight and pinched her thumbnails into her palms. ‘I bet when

you went into the bedroom to get the sleeping bag, she just

pulled you down on top of her, didn’t she?’

Tom winced. ‘It’s not something I’m proud of, Ellie, but

yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.’

She nodded. ‘I thought so.’

He pushed the chair back under the desk. ‘You reckon we

can stop talking about this now? A sad little shag with a crazy girl

is a bit humiliating to discuss with my sister. Maybe we should go

downstairs and see if they need any help.’

He wrapped the newspaper into a parcel and put it in the

bin. Ellie picked up the handful of hair from the corner and did

the same. She was an idiot. It was horrible for him to be

reminded of that night when he was supposed to be feeling safe

with his family.

‘Are you going to dress up?’ he said. ‘Team Parker and all

that? Best foot forward.’

He was trying to make her laugh. This was how their father

would speak.

‘All hands on deck,’ she said, because she wanted to give

him something back.

He patted her quickly on the head. ‘Don’t forget.’

Another expression from their father. Don’t forget who you

are.

Don’t forget whose side you’re on.

Six

They parked the car by the river and walked up the lane to

the house, Jacko still feeding Mikey last-minute bits of

information from Tom Parker’s Facebook page. Jacko had

checked it out on the computer at work and now they both knew

the bastard liked golf and sleeping and that all the friends on his

page were girls.

‘His favourite celebrity’s Vin Diesel,’ Jacko said, ‘though I

don’t think we need to let that worry us, because he also likes

Where’s Wally?’ He snapped his fingers, laughing. ‘We’re gonna

take him easy!’

But at the gate, even Jacko was silenced. They stood

openmouthed, taking it in. The house was lit up like Christmas,

with fairy lights strung in the trees and torches with real flames

staked along the path.

Jacko whistled. ‘Man, they’ve gone to town!’

‘They’ve got no shame. I told you.’

The place seemed even bigger than before. There must be

at least five bedrooms and the lawn wrapped itself round the

whole house. There were flowers that showed up their colours

even in the dark, like flowers from a shop stuck in the earth. The

windows seemed bigger too, all glaring with light. They obviously

didn’t worry about heating bills, could just chuck cash away,

probably had radiators at full blast and doors open and

everything on standby all night long. There was a confidence to it

that Mikey admired and hated at the same time – how come

some people had so much? How come some kids got this for

free?

‘You think they’ll suss we don’t belong?’ he said.

Jacko screwed up his forehead and looked offended. ‘We

belong everywhere.’

‘What about the scratched-up Jag? You think they’ll know it

was me?’

‘Nah, plenty of people hate the guy. Just keep the spanner

out of sight.’ Jacko drew in a last chestful of smoke before

chucking his fag on the gravel. ‘Right, remember what we said?

First one to see him sends the other a text, then we reconvene

for phase two.’

Mikey checked his mobile. He supposed it was some kind of

plan.

Jacko went first, straight through the front door and inside

like he knew the place. Mikey made his way round the side,

following a trickle of guests just arriving. Round the back of the

house, the garden opened up. It felt different from the front,

almost tropical, with heaters belching out hot air and the grass

still wet from the rain.

There were masses of people – adults as well as kids

standing in groups on the lawn, others sitting at tables in a

marquee with drinks and plates of food. Mikey was stunned by

the effort that had gone into this.

He grabbed a beer from a woman with a tray and knocked

half of it back. He wondered if anyone from school would

recognize him. It’d been two years since he left and these kids

were the ones who went on to college, so it was unlikely. He

took another gulp of beer and tried to concentrate. Find Tom

Parker, that was the plan. Tell Jacko when he had.

There was a group of boys sitting at one of the tables, there

were more queuing for food, another group swigging beer over

by the fence. They all had that posh look Mikey was expecting to

find, but none matched the pixellated photo Jacko had shown

him in the car.

He walked round the garden once, a whole ci

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