Born Bad

by Born Bad (retail) (epub)

  They had been watching this particular house for days, waiting for the right opportunity. The couple from this house had gone out in a taxi half an hour previously, and theirs was the only house on the row without a burglar alarm.

  It was a quiet neighbourhood and one that was considered desirable, with private houses set back from the tree-lined roads. Rich Bastards with money to spare as far as Peter was concerned.

  While Peter and his friends waited, the only sound they could hear was the distant hum of traffic and the occasional faint bark of a dog coming from one of the houses.

  ‘Come on, let’s do it now,’ Peter said. ‘They’ve been gone fuckin’ ages. They’ll be out till late.’

  He was buzzing with the thrill of anticipation. At sixteen years of age he had found his new high, and it was far more rewarding than toeing the line for grown-ups who didn’t appreciate it anyway.

  He looked to Alan Palmer for agreement, knowing that Alan was their unofficial leader. Although Alan wasn’t as daring as the other two, he was sharper. He had a way of thinking things through to make sure everything went as smoothly as possible. Alan was also older than Peter and had acquired a car, which cemented his role as leader. He did have a tendency to flip, however, when things didn’t go according to plan.

  David, on the other hand, was the most impulsive of the three. He seemed to have little sense of danger and would do anything to display his bravado, but he wasn’t too bright.

  ‘OK,’ said Alan. ‘You go round the back first to check it out. Me and Dave will wait here. Give us the thumbs up when you’re ready for us.’

  Peter glanced out of the car window, making sure the coast was clear. His handsome face wore a satisfied smirk and he couldn’t wait to get started. He then stepped out of the car and crossed the road, looking around him to make double sure that no one was around but they were all tucked up in their nice big houses.

  As he pushed the gate back, it creaked and Peter tensed as he stepped onto the drive, checking once more to make sure it hadn’t caught anyone’s attention. He shivered as he pushed the gate to and lifted the latch, taking care to place it back into position as quietly as possible.

  Peter tiptoed onto the drive and crept down the side of the house. A side gate barred him from the back and he tested the latch to see if it was locked. The gate wouldn’t budge. It was obviously bolted from the other side. He would have to climb over.

  Looking behind him once more, he wedged his left foot against one of the thick gateposts to gain purchase while he launched himself upwards and his hands reached for the top of the gate. His right foot followed, digging into the other gatepost a little further up until he was high enough to drag himself over. He dropped down onto the other side, the rubber soles of his trainers softening his landing.

  Peter then crept round to the back of the house and checked the back door and windows. They were all locked but the back door had glass panels. He glanced through, a smug grin curling up the sides of his mouth when he noticed the householders had left the key in the lock on the other side of the door. The dickheads! This one would be a breeze.

  Keeping an eye out for nosy neighbours, he sneaked back round the house and slid the bolt on the side gate then inched it open. He slipped through the small opening and continued round to the front of the house. Alan and David were watching from the car and he gave them the signal to join him before returning to the back of the house.

  Once they were inside the house, Alan whispered, ‘Let’s check out the upstairs first.’

  Peter led the way and they arrived at what was obviously the master bedroom. Peter stepped onto the plush mink-coloured carpet and glanced around the room. Two of the walls were lined with fitted wardrobes and cupboards, with a huge double bed nestled into a highly polished wood surround. Opposite the bed were other matching units; a dressing table and a cabinet housing a TV and video recorder.

  ‘Lucky bastards!’ said David.

  Ignoring him, Peter approached the TV and video recorder, and unplugged them from the wall sockets. He knew these items would fetch a lot of money, especially the video recorder, which was something he didn’t come across very often. Only very well off people had video recorders.

  David stepped up to the dressing table while Alan searched the cupboards and wardrobes, pulling out their contents as swiftly as possible as he tried to spot items of higher value.

  Peter lifted the TV and carried it out of the room. ‘Dave, can you manage that?’ he asked, nodding his head towards the video recorder. Placing the TV on the landing, Peter scouted around the other bedrooms quickly before establishing there was nothing of value in any of them.

  Next, they made their way downstairs. David was like a kid in a candy shop as he grabbed at anything of value, squealing with excitement.

  ‘Turn it in will you?’ Alan demanded. ‘We don’t want anyone to hear us!’ Then, thinking he had heard something, he held his hand to his ear and said, ‘Shush a minute.’

  They all stopped what they were doing and remained quiet while they listened out for any signs of danger. The boys soon identified the sound Alan had heard. It was a hamster racing around on its wheel. Apart from that all was silent. The inactivity made Peter aware of how hyped up he was. He could sense his heart thudding in his chest and feel the buzz of adrenalin pumping around his body urging him to carry on. He loved that feeling.

  ‘OK, let’s go before anyone catches us,’ said Alan.

  But Peter and David were enjoying themselves, rushing around the room now, smashing vases and ornaments for the sheer hell of it.

  ‘We’re not here to take the piss,’ said Alan. ‘We’ve got what we came for, let’s just go.’

  He and Peter picked up their loot, ready to leave the house. But David wasn’t finished yet. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘Watch this.’

  Peter and Alan turned around, and Peter let out a roar of laughter as David unzipped his trousers and shot a stream of urine onto the carpet. An acrid stench filled the air and the luxury pile became sodden; the pool of urine giving off a frothy steam.

  ‘I’m taking the piss,’ he sniggered. ‘Might as well have some fun while we’re here. See how the snobby bastards like that!’ He quickly zipped his trousers back up and the three youths dashed back to the car with their stash of electrical goods, jewellery and cash. Peter couldn’t wipe the smirk of his face, thinking of the snobby homeowners’ reactions when they arrived home to find their precious goods taken and their carpet wet and stinking of piss.

  *

  The house was silent; Adele was downstairs, her parents were both out and Peter was still in bed. She was making the most of the peace and quiet to catch up with her studies. The silence was broken when Adele heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She looked up from her exercise book, knowing that her peace was about to be shattered.

  ‘Hiya, Peter. Where were you last night?’ she asked when he walked into the room.

  ‘Out with the lads, and I’ve told you, it’s Pete not Peter.’

  Adele tutted on hearing his familiar complaint. It was since he started hanging around with Alan Palmer and David Scott that he had insisted on being referred to as Pete. Apparently, Peter wasn’t cool enough for him now. Adele wasn’t keen on the two boys. They were trouble with a capital T and, as far as she was concerned, they were leading Peter astray.

  ‘I know you were out, but where were you?’ she added.

  ‘Just out. That’s all you need to know.’

  She stared hard at him and noticed his eyes flitting around the room. It was obvious to her that he had been up to no good.

  ‘Well, whatever you’ve been up to, don’t let my dad catch you. He’ll go mad!’

  Peter smirked. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t find out anything.’

  Adele sighed and returned to her studies. Things had changed between her and her brother in recent years. As a child he was forever getting into mischief but now his escapades had become more serious and Adele preferre
d not to get too involved. No matter how much she tried to warn him about getting into trouble, he didn’t seem to take much notice.

  Encouraged by Grandma Joyce, Adele focused on her studies instead and she was currently in the first year of her A levels. If she could get some good qualifications then she would get away from the area and not have to put up with the behaviour of her father and brother any longer. She couldn’t help but worry about Peter though. They had shared a bond since childhood, and that would not be broken just because they had each chosen a different path in life.

  Adele didn’t know the full extent of what Peter got up to but she had her suspicions. Alan and David were older than Peter. They had bad reputations, and most of the local kids knew that they were thieves. Alan had even spent time in a detention centre when he was caught robbing a shop. Adele just hoped that Peter would eventually see sense and give them a wide berth.

  She looked up and watched Peter go through to the kitchen then she continued with her essay. Adele only had chance to write a few more sentences before her parents walked in. They had returned from one of their rare outings together and were having a row when they walked into the house. Some things never changed.

  ‘You do it every fuckin’ time, don’t you?’ her father shouted.

  ‘I’ve not done owt wrong,’ muttered Shirley. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Adele gathered her books together. She needed to get her essay finished and handed in tomorrow, and there was no way she could do it with this racket going on.

  ‘I’m going to the library,’ she announced.

  Her mother nodded her head briefly but her father didn’t even notice she had spoken. He was already on his way into the kitchen. As Adele packed the last of her books into her school bag, she overheard him verbally attacking Peter. ‘There you are. I want a bleedin’ word with you! What fuckin’ time did you come in last night?’

  Without waiting to hear any more, Adele dashed out of the door and headed for the peace and quiet of the library.

  Two hours later, after finishing her work, she set off for the ten-minute walk back home.

  Adele had just left the main road and was walking along the pathway leading into her estate when she saw a group of young people ahead of her. She carried on walking, but as she drew nearer she noticed that Peter’s friends, Alan Palmer and David Scott, were amongst the group, which consisted of a few boys and two girls.

  When Adele drew even nearer she noticed that they were nudging each other, and looking in her direction. David Scott said something to the others, which she couldn’t hear, and they all laughed. Adele sensed trouble and her stomach began to churn. She was tempted to turn back but this was the quickest way into the estate.

  She continued to walk towards them. Her heart was pounding and her mouth felt dry. The laughter became louder and she could now hear what they were saying.

  ‘Here she is; the stuck-up bitch!’ announced David Scott.

  The others jeered and laughed.

  Adele could feel all eyes on her. It was an eerie sensation. A prickle ran down her spine and her hands became clammy as she prepared to pass through the group.

  She was within a few metres of them now. They stood still, watching; their eyes boring into her. Then, once she had drawn level, they crowded around, jostling her and shouting abuse. Swot! Bitch! Slag!

  Adele stiffened but continued walking while looking straight ahead with her chin raised. In spite of her fear, fury coursed through her. But she didn’t respond to their taunts; that would only have made matters worse. Instead, she kept moving, her motions rigid but resolute. She swallowed down the angry retorts, which threatened to overwhelm her. Scum! How dare they?

  Then she was through the crowd. But they were still within reach. She felt a cold chill pass through her. The sound of footsteps. A strange sensation of proximity. Then a savage blow to her back.

  ‘Snobby cow!’ shouted David Scott as the punch from his fist struck her.

  Adele felt the fierce impact and her legs weakened. She fought to stay upright and hold back the tears that sprang to her eyes. Still she kept walking.

  Adele heard David Scott rejoin the crowd, evidenced by his retreating footsteps then further jeers and laughter. She maintained the same pace. The sounds diminished. An excited murmur replaced by faint chatter. Then, nothing. She was safe, at last.

  When Adele reached home, she was trembling but her eyes were dry. She raced upstairs to find Peter. He was lying on his bed reading a comic.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked when she appeared in the doorway.

  ‘I’ve just been attacked by your mates.’

  Peter sat up, ‘What d’you mean?’

  Adele explained what had happened.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ he said. ‘They’re just having a laugh.’

  ‘David Scott thumped me in the back. It really bloody hurt!’

  ‘That’s just Dave clowning around. He’s daft like that. Did you say anything to him?’

  ‘No! I didn’t know what they would do.’

  ‘No wonder they think you’re a snob! That’s your trouble, Adele; you go around with your nose stuck up in the air. They’re all right really. If you talked to them, you’d know that.’

  Adele was livid, ‘I’m not talking to them. They’re scum!’

  ‘What the bloody hell’s going on up there!’ shouted her dad on hearing her raised voice.

  ‘Nothing!’ shouted Peter. ‘We were just having a laugh, that’s all.’

  Adele retreated to her room knowing that to involve her father would only invite a load more trouble. And she knew from painful experience that once her father got riled, anything could happen.

  Chapter 14

  It was Sunday, which was usually cleaning day. Sometimes Grandma Joyce came round to help out, but she hadn’t been round for a couple of weeks.

  ‘Is Grandma coming today?’ Adele asked her mother.

  ‘No, she’s not so good. I’m going to try and go round to see her when I’ve got a minute.’

  Shirley’s response was lacklustre and Adele realised there probably wasn’t much chance of that.

  Adele sighed. ‘Do you want some help with the housework?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh please, love. I could do with some help today; I’m not so good myself. I tell you what, you start on the dusting and I’ll go and get the hoover.’

  Adele soon set to work on the shabby furniture, which was covered with a thick layer of dust. It had been several minutes and her mother still hadn’t returned to the living room. Adele couldn’t hear the sound of the hoover elsewhere either. She went into the kitchen to see whether her mother had taken it out of the pantry yet.

  Seated on a kitchen chair was Shirley who was putting some pills into her mouth and washing them down with a glass of water. The pill bottle stood on the kitchen table, its lid still off. Adele recognised the pills. They were diazepam, which her mother still took regularly.

  ‘I’m not feeling very well, love,’ said Shirley. ‘I’m just having a little sit-down then I’ll come and join you.’

  ‘Have you not got the hoover out yet?’ asked Adele, a look of scorn on her face.

  ‘No, I was just going to get it when I started feeling unwell.’

  It was clear that her mother wasn’t going to do anything so Adele strode over to the pantry and dragged the hoover out. By the time she had finished hoovering the house her mother was still sitting at the table, although Adele noticed that she had managed to make a cup of tea for herself, which she was now drinking.

  ‘Oh, you are a good girl,’ said Shirley. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  Adele said nothing. Instead she looked around at the state of the kitchen. The bowl was full of dirty dishes, and the table was stained and littered with crumbs. Despite her desire to get on with her studies, she knew that unless she cleaned up the mess, it wouldn’t get done.

  She set to work but she was annoyed. How coul
d her family live in such a pigsty? Adele felt irritated by her mother’s slovenly ways and, despite her protestations of illness, Adele didn’t feel much sympathy. She hated the way her mother shirked the housework. She also became annoyed at the way her mother took pity on herself and adopted a pathetic, timid tone of voice when it suited her.

  At seventeen years of age, Adele had little understanding as to why her mother was the way she was. As far as Adele was concerned, if something needed doing, you just did it. But although she became irritated with her mother, she would then feel affection towards her and a tremendous guilt for being short-tempered. What if her mother couldn’t help it? Maybe she really did find it difficult to carry out the most basic tasks. But then Adele would spot her mother idling over a cup of tea or chatting with the neighbours, and she’d become irritated once more. While she toiled, she worked herself up into a fury and when she had finished she decided to go out.

  ‘I’m off out!’ she shouted to her mother once she had put her shoes on. She slammed the door behind her without waiting for a reply. Then she walked off in the direction of Grandma Joyce’s house.

  Adele was curious. It wasn’t like her grandma to leave it so long without calling round. She also missed her. No matter how fed up Adele was feeling, Grandma Joyce always managed to cheer her up. She often brought small gifts for Adele and Peter, but even when she didn’t, her kind and supportive words gave Adele strength.

  It wasn’t long before Adele arrived at her grandma’s home near Belle Vue. She knocked on the door and waited. And waited. Grandma Joyce didn’t usually take so long to answer. Adele’s curiosity turned to concern. But before anxiety could take hold, Grandma Joyce appeared at the door wearing her housecoat.

  ‘Oh hello, love. I was just having a lie-down.’

  Adele stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Grandma Joyce.

  Adele watched her walk into the kitchen. Her movements seemed laboured but Adele didn’t think much of it. Perhaps she was still tired because she had just got out of bed, although it was a bit late in the day for her grandma to be having a sleep. When Joyce came back into the room, Adele noticed her pallid complexion, her ruffled hair and the way her housecoat hung haphazardly.