In Cold Blood: A Brother’s Sworn Vengeance

‘Come on, lad, drop ’em,’ Henry told him, with a glint in his beady eye. He almost smiled at Vinnie. ‘You know the drill.’

Vinnie stood up, placing the bloody bog roll on the desk just beside him, dropped his jeans to his ankles and positioned himself towards the seat of the chair he’d just been sitting on, gripping the backrest tightly with both hands. He then bit his lip in readiness for what was to come, and then as reaction, as the first part of his punishment began.

Old Henry started swinging away, the sound of the air-rush audible, and counted each strike out loud as Mr Bastion looked on. Vinnie refused to acknowledge the pain surging through him and turned to fashion the best grin he could manage at his observer. ‘Come on, sir, is that all you’ve got?’ he taunted Henry, causing the teacher to make strike six the hardest one yet. But not as hard as he was, Vinnie thought. Not by a long shot.

‘Now get to your room, you little bastard, and stay there,’ Henry said as he threw down the shoe.

Vinnie stood up, hitched up his flares and gave a mock salute. ‘I’m knackered anyway, sir,’ he said. ‘Could do with a nice nap. Did you enjoy that, Bastion? Do you like watching boys get their arses smacked?’

‘Get out of here!’ Bastion snarled. ‘Straight to your room and stay there. No tea or supper for you tonight, son.’

‘Fuck you very much, sir,’ he responded, beginning to enjoy himself despite the searing pain. ‘Can’t stand the shit you call food anyway.’

He was halfway out of the door when he felt the shoe hit his back.

Though he’d made a point of laughing as the shoe had been lobbed at him, Vinnie let his guard down just as soon as he was out of sight. His arse felt as if it had been thrust into a roaring fire, and he rubbed at it furiously as he limped back to his room. Nasty bastards, the pair of ’em. Bastion the bastard and Henry the arse bandit. Yeah, that’s what he’d call them from now on, he decided. He felt lighter of heart than he had at any point, he realised, since he’d arrived at the shit-hole. Yes, he might have a swollen arse for a few days but it was worth it. It was worth it. Now he wouldn’t have any more bother. Billy too, perhaps. He hoped he’d gotten away with it – respect to the lad. He’d torn straight in to help, even though he was plainly bricking it. As far as Vinnie was concerned that cemented their friendship for ever.

A successful Saturday, all things considered.

Monday arrived and Vinnie went to brick-laying for the first lesson of the week, as per usual. His group – a bunch of six lads he barely knew – were building a wall in the gardens at the back of the centre. The reason why eluded him, because it seemed pretty pointless, other than to give them something useful to do. Well, useful, that was, if building walls was your thing. And the one thing he knew he had no intention doing was spending the rest of his life slapping mortar onto fucking bricks.

The dimwits he was working with were like robots, too. All ‘Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir’ morons. They never even questioned the futility in the exercise. Vinnie sighed and shook his head as he picked up a trowel and a bucket. He’d let these monkeys do the hard graft today, he thought. No point him killing himself when he had no intention of becoming anyone’s labourer. No, Vinnie fancied himself becoming a carpenter. He’d really loved making his bookshelf and had taken real pride in carving intricate patterns into the sides. He had decided there and then that when he was ready to do some honest work, it would be something involving making things from wood.

And on his own – not as part of some brain-dead group of wets. He preferred his own company much better.

He had only been there for 10 minutes when he was summoned to the office. A tall lad of about 17 who he’d never seen before, who looked like he could handle himself, had come to escort him, and after washing his hands in the bucket outside and wiping them on his T-shirt, Vinnie followed him back into the building. The lad didn’t speak so, taking his cue from him, Vinnie kept his mouth shut as well. Ignorant fucker, he thought. Probably thinks I’m scared of him.

They walked down the main corridor, their boots slapping in time on the navy-blue lino, towards the office where Mr Bastion was housed. Vinnie winced as he approached – it was almost automatic. He hoped that he wasn’t going to get the shoe treatment again. His arse was still throbbing from Saturday, the bastards. He glued a grin on his face and pulled his shoulders back a little. He’d not been told what he had been summonsed for, but it didn’t take a brain surgeon to work out that it would almost definitely be about Saturday. So he’d go in smiling and just take what he had coming.

When they got to the door, the big lad knocked and glanced at Vinnie. ‘I don’t know what you’ve done, man,’ he said, ‘but good luck. I think you’re gonna need it.’ Then he smiled and sauntered off, leaving Vinnie to wait to be called in.

Vinnie watched him go while he waited for the door to be opened. Luck? He didn’t need luck. He just needed bravado right now. He was just thinking how much, when Mr Bastion opened the door and, as Vinnie looked inside, all thoughts of going in with a cocky attitude vanished, along with the half-smile he’d stuck on his face.

There were two coppers – that was the first thing he saw, two fucking coppers. Joe with his mum and dad, and … oh, fuck.

‘All right, Mother?’ he said, following Bastion in and trying to swagger, while at the same time trying to compute what the fuck she was doing there.

His mam looked as she always did: completely over the top. A big red coat, with what looked like Tarka the bloody Otter slung round her neck by way of a collar, lipstick the colour of freshly spilled blood and hair the sort of silvery blonde you saw on film stars. She actually looked like one herself, in this dour masculine company, and in any other circumstance he’d be pleased and proud to see her. As it was, the best he could manage was a nervous grin, and even that was forced. She was looking daggers at him.

‘Lovely this, Vinnie, innit it?’ she snapped. ‘Innit?’

She waited just a heartbeat, giving him scant time to answer, before adding, ‘Sally’s here as well. She’s just parking the car up.’

So there was no chance of sweet-talking his way out of this one. Not now. Not now the Queen of fucking Sheba was here.

‘Sit down, Vincent,’ Bastion said, and then, pointing to the coppers, ‘these policeman will be sitting in while we have a bit of a chat, but they will then need to talk to you alone.’

June bristled in her seat. ‘I know the law, love,’ she said, glaring at him. ‘I’m his mother, okay? And I’ll be sitting in any interview.’

One of the coppers nodded to Bastion. ‘That’s fine,’ he said, glancing at Vinnie before smiling at June. ‘We would expect Mrs McKellan to join us.’

There was a single empty chair in the room. Bastion nodded towards it and Vinnie sat down on it, wincing. The next 30 minutes were to shape the rest of his life.

Chapter 7 (#u2997a235-37d3-5595-b688-3d9d4cf4f6b7)

The social worker rushed into the room, puffing and panting, clutching her briefcase. There was a sheen of sweat across her forehead, which sat at odds with the chilly atmosphere in the room.

‘So sorry I’m late,’ Sally said, swivelling as she looked for somewhere to sit down.

‘Up, McKellan!’ Bastion barked. Vinnie duly stood up again and stepped aside for Saggy Tits, who smiled at him with something that looked suspiciously like warmth. Had she been missing him? Now, that would be a turn-up.

‘Thanks, love,’ she said, putting her case on the floor and shrugging off her coat. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘The traffic was murder on the way down.’

She sat down heavily on the wooden school chair that Bastion had brought in and parked next to June, before throwing a look at Vinnie that, if anything, topped his mother’s. Vinnie tipped his chair back onto two legs and leaned it against the office wall behind him, his mind working overtime now. He eyed up the coppers. These bastards look like they mean business, he thought. He wondered if he was going to get formally charged or something.

‘Sit up straight, boy!’ Bastion barked, making him jump. ‘And for God’s sake, put that ruddy chair straight!’

The headmaster’s face was reddening, Vinnie noticed, in anger and what looked like frustration. Well, it must be frustrating for him, Vinnie thought, having this shit to deal with. Having to have the coppers in his nice, well-behaved, goody-goody school. It was a slightly cheering thought. The police presence would really help Vinnie’s reputation with the lads, even if it did potentially mean a spot of bother. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he said to Bastion, giving him a mocking salute for good measure.

If Bastion wasn’t impressed, his mother was even less so. ‘Stop acting the prat,’ June snapped. ‘You don’t know how much trouble you’re in, lad.’ She glared at Vinnie and then turned to look at Bastion, ‘Now. Are we going to start this meeting or what?’

A couple of minutes droned on and Vinnie found himself soon zoning out as Bastion started to read out some report he had put together – obviously had nothing better to do over the weekend. But as he read, Vinnie started zoning back in again, at first with a kind of pride, but then with an increasing sense that this was turning into a hatchet job. It was a report that was beginning to paint Vinnie out to be the Devil incarnate. A monster who’d viciously attacked poor Joe – poor Joe? What – without any ‘provocation’ or any ‘regard for the consequences’? He read out about Vinnie’s thieving, his poor attitude to learning and conforming, and finally, finally, he got to the point.

‘So we feel that we have no choice,’ he finished, with a tone of regret and exhaustion, ‘but to ask that Vinnie be removed from this establishment, and placed instead somewhere more suitable for his needs.’

What? Thought Vinnie. WHAT? Be removed? What was he on about? There was no way he was going to swallow this shit. The whole point of assaulting Joe had been to give himself a bit of status here – not be shipped off somewhere else altogether. Christ – if they did that it would all have been for nothing! He leapt from his chair indignantly and almost instinctively. ‘Fuck you an’ all, sir! My fuckin’ needs!’ He pointed over to Joe, who was now actually cowering in between his mum and dad, watching him. ‘That fucking cunt started it! Am I s’posed to do fuck all, eh? Just let him kick my fucking head in? I don’t think so!’

‘McKellan, sit DOWN!’ Bastion was off his seat now, as well. As were the coppers. Vinnie grinned, seeing this, and flexed his fingers automatically. If there was going to be a free for all, best put on a bit of a show. ‘What you gonna do, you fat cunt?’ he yelled at Bastion. June stood up herself, then, though old Saggy Tits kept her fat arse in her chair. ‘Go on,’ June snapped at him, getting herself in between him and Bastion. ‘Go on, Vinnie. Just you fucking dare. I’m warning you,’ she said evenly, meeting his eye and skewering him with another one of her looks. He withdrew immediately. He could have had a right go with two coppers and Bastion – bring it on, son – but his mother? Fuck that for a lark. He wasn’t insane.

June remained standing till he’d sat back in his seat once again, as did Bastion and eventually the still silent coppers, and then everyone seemed to calm down. Well, outwardly, at any rate; there was still a bit of an edge to the two coppers, and he could see that one of them now had a set of cuffs in his hand.

What were they doing here anyway? It was a thought that hit him belatedly. Did Bastion really think he was gonna kick off that badly? Or – shit – was he about to be arrested? No, it couldn’t be that, surely? It was Monday now. So it couldn’t be happening. In his experience, if you were going to get nicked, it happened as soon as you got caught. They wouldn’t leave him all weekend and then come for him, surely? He felt his palms get clammy. No, it couldn’t be that, could it? That wasn’t the way things worked. He knew that. They’d want as little fuss as possible because it went on the school’s record when the cops got involved in shit. And then the school got extra hassle. So why were they here? If it was a case of him being shipped off to some other place, then they could do that themselves, couldn’t they? Yet there were two coppers here. He wished he knew why.

He tried to fathom it as, after shuffling through a bunch of papers from her handbag, Sally began having her two penn’orth.

‘Well,’ she said, mostly to Bastion, while June continued to glare at him, ‘since I only got the call on Saturday – which is not a lot of time, frankly – we’ve been unable to find Vinnie an alternative approved school.’ She paused, then glanced at Vinnie, then looked at the two coppers. ‘So am I right in understanding that you intend keeping him in custody until something suitable is offered?’

Vinnie almost choked, hearing that. What the fuck was she on about? Fucking custody? Was that why they were here? He looked at June, panic written all over his face. ‘Mum?’

June could only shake her head sadly. ‘It’s out of my hands, son,’ she said, shrugging. ‘What do you expect? I warned you, didn’t I? You just won’t have it, will you?’ She sighed. ‘You never would.’

One of the coppers stood up then and walked over to Vinnie.

‘Vincent McKellan,’ he said, managing to sound bored as well as smug. ‘I’m arresting you for an assault causing actual bodily harm. You have a right to remain silent …’ He produced the handcuffs as he spoke and reached for Vinnie’s arms. ‘Come on, son,’ he said, softening slightly, perhaps seeing Vinnie’s now stricken face. ‘You know the drill.’

The copper was feeling sorry for him now, he could tell. He tried to adjust his expression by sheer force of will.

He stood up as directed, willing his legs not to give way beneath him, and forcing a grin, said, ‘Yeah, man, I know the drill.’ He looked back at June then and smiled. ‘Get us a brief, Mam, okay? One that can sort these divvies out.’