Trilogy Collection

He was bored stiff and began to wonder if he should ask for a pen and paper so he could write a letter or something to help pass the time. Fuck! he thought, remembering suddenly. His letters! They were still under his pillow in his bunk. He’d slipped them under there when he’d gone down to check out the ruck in the yard and hadn’t given a thought to them since.

Fuck, he thought again, realising that was the last he’d probably see of them. At least for a while. How could he have forgotten them? What an idiot. And what were the chances – even if he asked the copper to call the home in Brighton for him – of him ever getting his hands on them again? Already been scooped up in the laundry no doubt, when they cleared the room to make way for the next poor sod.

He felt even worse when he realised that there was absolutely no chance of him being allowed to call home and speak to his sister now. He sat back and rested his head against the cold, unyeilding wall, feeling guilty. He felt bad about that bit. Poor Titch.

Still, he decided, it was probably something and nothing anyway. Whatever was eating his little sis at the moment was probably fuck all compared to the shit he was in.

Chapter 8 (#ub0b25701-d126-509d-97b1-76fe329d1888)

Josie lifted the nicotine-stained net curtains for what must have been the twentieth time and peered anxiously out into the blackness. Where was her mum? She should have been home hours ago. She’d left the house at about four in the morning, it had seemed like, and it was now after eight in the evening.

‘Any sign of her, Titch?’

She jumped at the unexpected sound of her dad’s voice. He’d been dozing, but clearly no longer. She shook her head.

‘Bollocks to it, then!’ he said with feeling, rising stiffly from his armchair, and reaching to grab his overcoat from the sofa arm. ‘She’s probably pissed off straight to the pub, Titch. You know what she’s like. Telling all her fucking mates about what the boy wonder’s been up to.’

Josie lowered the net. ‘No she won’t have, Dad,’ she said. ‘She knows better. I told her to come let me know as soon as she got back.’

She watched her dad shrug his coat on and slip his tobacco tin in the pocket, clearly bound for the pub now as well. It hurt her to think her mam might have gone straight to the Bull without popping home first to see her, because she knew how desperately she wanted some news about Vinnie. It had been on her mind since Saturday night, when her Auntie Mo had called round, saying the social worker had been on the phone wanting June. Something had happened – something bad – because her mam had been in a mood all Sunday. Had he been causing trouble? If so, what kind of trouble? She’d asked, but her mam said she didn’t actually know. All she’d say was that he’d been his usual stupid fucking self and ‘gone off on one’ with someone, which told her nothing she didn’t already know.

She wouldn’t have gone straight to the pub, would she? Surely not. But her dad clearly thought so, and maybe he was right. ‘Yeah, love,’ he said, ‘and pigs might fly. I’m telling you, Titch, she won’t give a fuck about what you said. Anyway, I’m off up to the Bull and I bet you a pound to a penny she’ll already be up there.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘I’ll see you later if you’re still awake, okay?’

Josie nodded miserably and continued her vigil by the window, now following Jock’s progress as he made his way up the street. It was the back end of November and the nights were dark and bitterly cold. Though hope was beginning to fade now, she still clung to it anyway, praying with all her heart that her mother, just this once, had remembered what she’d promised. She rubbed away the condensation that kept building up in front of her and squashed her nose once again against the window pane. There was nothing else to do, after all.

A couple of minutes later, Josie’s patience was rewarded. She saw the lights of a car sweep round the corner and, even as she was prepared for it to drive past and disappoint her, she saw it slow and then come to a stop outside. It was a taxi, she realised, one that had been carrying her mum; even in the dark, June’s platinum hair and that mad coat of hers were unmistakable, and, finally able to leave her post, Josie rushed into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She knew the drill. Knew how to put her mum in a good mood; June was hopeless without a cup of tea inside her, and a cuppa and the offer of a foot rub was the secret to cheering her up. And she would definitely need cheering up – Josie was pretty definite on that score. She knew how much her mam missed Vinnie and how hard it would have been for her to have to say goodbye to him all over again today.

She swilled out and rinsed the teapot, impatient now to hear all about Vinnie and, more importantly, if there was news of a release date. Since the ‘thing’ she couldn’t bear to think about, she had been pining for her brother badly. Not that she intended telling him – she was clear on that – because that would cause murder, but merely his presence back in her life would be enough. That was all she needed. She’d feel safe again then.

‘Kettle’s on, Mam,’ she called out, when she heard the front door slam. ‘You have a sit down and take your shoes off, I’ll be there now.’

‘Don’t bother!’ came her mother’s barked reply from the hall, causing her growing bubble of excitement to pop. ‘I’m just changing these shoes and then I’m off.’ There was a silence. ‘Where is he? Where’s your dad?’

Josie came out into the hall to see June wriggling her foot out of a shoe and looking at her enquiringly. ‘Already up at the pub, I suppose?’ Josie nodded. ‘Typical! Well, he’d better keep out of my sight or I’ll cause fucking hell up there, I swear!’

Josie’s heart started to bang in her chest. What had happened? Why was her mum in such a mood still? How bad could it have been? She turned back into the kitchen and put down the tea-cup she’d been holding. ‘What’s up, Mam?’ she asked, following her mum back into the living room. ‘What’s happened? How’s our Vinnie? Is he okay?’

June was sitting on the couch struggling to remove her second shoe. She glanced up at Josie, looking livid and then, once she’d finally got the foot free, threw the offending slingback across the floor.

‘Our fucking Vinnie,’ she ranted, ‘is not okay, no.’ She jabbed a finger against her temple. ‘Not up here, he’s not.’

Josie gasped. ‘What’s he done, Mam? What’s happened to him?’

‘Happened to him? I already told you – he has been his usual stupid fucking self.’

‘Is he hurt?’

June leapt up and stalked past Josie into the hallway. ‘Hurt? He’d have been hurt if they’d’ve let me get my hands on him, believe me. Now can you get out of the way so I can find my other slingbacks? Where the fuck did I – ah, there they are. Who put them there – you?’ She stomped back into the living room and sat down heavily on the sofa to put them on.

‘But, Mam, is –’

‘But Mam nothing, girl!’ she snapped. ‘I’m really not in the mood for you giving me the third degree. I already told you. Your brother’s been a bad boy. That’s all you need to know – that he’s been a fucking idiot, that he’s not coming home, and probably not for a long time, okay? Now I suggest you piss off out of my sight and let me get ready before they call last fucking orders!’

Josie stared at June, open-mouthed. What was she saying? Not coming home for a long time? Why? She watched in a daze as June stood up again to reapply her lipstick in the big mirror. ‘But what happened, Mam?’ she dared to asked again. ‘Was he fighting? Did he get into trouble? What?’

‘I mean it, Josie,’ she said, pressing her lips together and swivelling the lipstick back down. I’m really not in the mood for 20 questions right now.’

‘But I’ve been waiting,’ Josie said, feeling her own anger rising and her voice with it. ‘Waiting all day for you! What’s he done? And when’s he coming home? That’s all I want to know!’

June swivelled as she was popping the lippy back into her handbag. ‘Don’t you raise your voice to me, madam, you hear me? You best get out of my sight, cos I’m this close,’ she squeezed her thumb and her forefinger together and glared at Josie, ‘this close to throwing a fit. I’m fuming, Titch, so don’t push me any further, okay? Now, I say again, piss off out of my sight before you get a belt!’

Josie had no idea why her mum was in such a filthy mood but she also knew better than to push it when she was like this. She hesitated for a moment more – should she try, even so? But she knew it would be pointless; she’d get no answers, just a clip round the ear. But she wasn’t staying home alone either. Grabbing her jacket from the back of the couch, and with tears springing in her eyes, she fled into the hall and yanked the front door open, shouting out ‘Bleeding cow!’ as she ran off down the street.

She was so upset with her mother that she forgot her most important new rule. She happened to glance across the street and her eyes were instantly drawn to a brightly illuminated upstairs window. Mucky Melvin! He had his grubby makeshift curtain held back and was watching her as she ran by.

Josie yelped and changed direction, feeling a wave of nausea rise in her stomach, running back past her own house and further down the street. She was almost blinded by her tears now but she didn’t care who saw her. She ran for five full minutes, fast enough to make the air rasp in her throat, then, finally spent, she slowed first to a jog and then to a walk, sweat beading on her forehead and hair damp against her neck as she drew up outside the local youth club.

The lights were on. It was one of the club nights and there would be loads of kids in there. She didn’t want to go in though. She never did. She didn’t like a lot of the older kids who went to play pool, but she knew of somewhere else to go in any case.

There was a secret den just down from the back of the youthy; a den that her, Vinnie and a few others had made a couple of years back, deep inside a stand of overgrown shrubs and scraggy trees. They’d sometimes stash stolen stuff there and congregate for meetings. She’d go there, she decided. Yes, it was dark, but she felt safe inside. Hardly anyone knew about it and because there was only one way in and out, no one could sneak up on her there. It was as good a place as any, she decided, setting off towards the building, and definitely better than going back to her shitty home.

Having crossed the grass, Josie slipped through the gap in the perimeter fence and slid down the slippery, muddy grass bank to the bottom of the hill. She was at the back of the building now, and sat and waited for a few moments, but once satisfied that the only sounds were coming from inside the building above her, she began making her way across the area of wasteland in front of her.

Littered with old car tyres, cans, empty boxes and discarded chip wrappers, to anyone looking, it just seemed like a rubbish tip. But behind that, and known only to a very select few, there’d been a major excavation. The apparent wall of impenetrable brambles actually hid a sizeable retreat; space enough for half a dozen kids, at a pinch, to sit together, the scrubby ground buried under a damp and smelly carpet off-cut and light provided by stubs of candles in old jam jars.

Josie carefully parted the curtain of branches, fought her way through the scratchy bushes and pushed her way finally into the little space. Then almost jumped out of her skin when she first heard a sniffle and then, as her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, saw a figure crouched down in the corner.

Her fear was only momentary, though. The sniffle sounded female, and the figure tiny. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked in a whisper.

‘Oh it’s you, Titch. Thank fuck for that, I almost shit myself then!’

‘Caz?’ Titch asked, peering at her. ‘That you?’ She shuffled a bit closer then sat back on her heels. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

Carol sniffed again and Josie could see the white of a tissue or bit of bog roll. ‘What’s up, mate? You’re crying. Has someone battered you?’

Carol wiped the tissue across her face and shook her head. ‘No. No, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’ll be alright, mate. I just needed to get away from the house for a bit.’

Her as well, then. ‘Why’s that?’

‘It’s nothing. Just the usual. Mam, an’ that. I’m much better now you’re here.’ Her eyes adjusted now, Josie could make out her friend’s smile. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’ Carol asked her.

‘Never mind that,’ said Josie. ‘What d’you mean – ‘Mam, an’ that’? What’s happened? Has your mam started on you or something?’

For a few moments Carol said nothing. She just sat there, scrunching and unscrunching the tissue. Then she sobbed again, all at once, and reached her arms out to Josie, who pulled her in for a hug and held her tightly. ‘Oh, Josie,’ she said finally, ‘it’s not my mam. I wish it was. It’s that bastard that she’s with. Him. That black bastard!’

Crying out loud now, so much so that Josie felt compelled to try and shush her, she pressed her face into Josie’s chest, her shoulders heaving. ‘He’s been doing stuff to me, Titch …’

‘Doing stuff? What stuff?’