New Kid In Town (Bryant Rockwell Book 1)

by Jacky Gray

  “You’ve only ever seen him sober. Never drunk, and mouthing off at ‘the filth’ in TV shows. It’s even worse if there’s a report on the news. The way he goes on, you’d think there was no such thing as a villain in the whole of England.”

  They reached the end of her drive and she looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “Your place or mine?”

  “No contest. Your den is ten times better than my dining room table.”

  “Do you need to let anyone know where you’ll be?”

  “Nah, Dad won’t be back ’til late, and Pete’s round at Sheila’s.”

  Kat remembered Sheila was his aunt who cared for them when his dad went away on driving jobs.

  7 Joyriding is No Fun at All

  As they entered the hall, Kat’s mum called out a warm greeting to Luke, she’d obviously seen them talking outside. Sinead ran up and hugged his legs, squealing until he picked her up and swung her round as he always used to.

  “Phew! You’re getting much too big for this. I can’t put you in my pocket anymore.” He pretended to groan under the weight as Connor jumped on his back, too. “And as for you, you’ll be out helping your Dad lay bricks, soon.” Luke overbalanced and crumpled to the floor, making sure neither of the little ones got hurt.

  “I’ve growed so much, I have to go to school,” the little girl swanked as her brother said fiercely, “My Daddy doesn’t lay bricks, he makes someone else do it.”

  Luke was reduced to helpless laughter as Connor nearly strangled him and Sinead tugged his shirt up to blow a raspberry on his stomach.

  “Children, come on now, that’ll do.” Mrs Flynn emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea-towel. She tried to pull them off, only to be met by protests.

  “No, we want Lukey to play with us.”

  “We haven’t seen him for ages.”

  “All right, maybe he will later, but first he and Kat have got some homework to do.” Her gesture appealed to Kat for help and, between them, they managed to free him: a task involving copious amounts of tickling.

  Luke finally got up and they escaped into the airy, multi-functional family room, affectionately known as “The Den.” The open shelving running across one wall, which had once bulged with brightly coloured toys, now hosted a muddle of sports bags, bicycle parts and computer games. A multi-gym took over one corner with a mat and a rack of hefty dumbbells.

  The opposite wall belonged in a classroom. A PlayStation sat between two PCs with various game-playing attachments: chunky speakers, joysticks, steering wheels and a web-cam. The whole bench was a tangle of wires, but somehow, it managed to accommodate up to five members of the Flynn household working or playing games simultaneously.

  They dumped their stuff on a long table with benches.

  Luke wandered over to the computer area and pressed a few keys. “Wow, this lot’s impressive; I don’t remember all these.” He sat down and clutched a joystick, tilting it almost reverently and firing the button on the top.

  “It’s all boys’ toys. Mum and I only use the old desktop for her accounts and my homework – when we can get on. Every month they seem to buy a new game with a new attachment. It all needs sorting out.”

  Retrieving his schoolbag, Luke rummaged for the maths book. “Come on, then. Let’s get this lot sorted.”

  By breaking down the method, he showed her how Ray’s trick worked. He set her straight when she tried, tweaking until she got the hang of the technique. Then he showed her a couple of examples where it wouldn’t work.

  “Cool. I bet Ray doesn’t know about that.”

  “I bet he does. Fair play to him, he’s well smart. Just a pity he has to be so obnoxious.”

  “Excuse me, but pots and kettles spring to mind.”

  “What?”

  “As in the pot calling the kettle black. Am I not right?”

  “Yeah, ok. Point taken. Maybe I did come on a bit strong. I know it was his first day an’ all, but he really got up my nose.”

  “I think you two are probably more alike than you think.” She slid a crafty glance his way. “I bet he’d give you a run for your money on the sports field if he wasn’t in that chair.”

  He nodded. “I reckon you’re right there. It must be awful to not be able to walk anywhere or run if you wanted to; even if he wasn’t a sporty type. I’d probably be ten times worse than him.”

  “Most certainly.”

  “You’re not supposed to agree.” He pretended to be shocked.

  “I know. That’s why I did.”

  He snorted. “That’s the last time I help with your maths homework, Katrina Flynn.”

  “And exactly how do you think I managed without you for the last ten months?” Her glare was shot down in flames by his next remark.

  “You went down a grade, that’s how.”

  “True. Anyway, I could always ask Ray. I bet he’d love to help me.”

  “I’ll bet.” He squinted at her. “But you’ll probably have to join the queue of girls wanting to try it out with a guy in a wheelchair.”

  Even as she drew in a sharp intake of outrage, she noticed he wasn’t calling Ray that horrid name anymore, and couldn’t resist winding him up a little. “Nothing to do with the fact he’s drop-dead gorgeous, then?”

  “Is he? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You wouldn’t, but all the girls have.”

  A knock on the door heralded Kat’s mum bearing two mugs of tea and a plateful of cake.

  “Oh, wow. Home-made fruit cake. I can’t think why I stayed away for so long.” Luke chose the biggest slice.

  “And there was me thinking you’d taken a dislike to the new recipe.”

  “No way. If you were a couple of years younger, I’d be round helping you with your homework.”

  “If I were a couple of years younger, it wouldn’t be homework I’d be wanting your help with.”

  “Motherrr!” Kat had forgotten how embarrassing they could be together, flirting like a couple of teenagers in an Australian teatime soap. She told them so and they immediately got worse, calling each other Carlton and Darlene in over-the-top Aussie accents. Sometimes, she struggled to believe her mum was nearly twenty-five years older than them; she could be such a child.

  “I missed all this,” he said as she left, chuckling away to herself. “Your mum’s really great.”

  He fell silent and she figured he was probably thinking about his own mum; his face had already taken on a sullen set. She needed to stop him from sinking back into the depression, so she asked the first question which popped into her head. Something which had been bubbling around for a while.

  “What was it like, in the police station?”

  He looked blank, and she wasn’t sure whether to drop it or persevere. “Like on the Bill? All those paper-filled offices and rooms without windows?”

  Munching cake, he stalled for time. The expressions flitting across his face suggested the memories weren’t pleasant. She was about to change the subject when he started talking in a low voice, not meeting her gaze.

  “I spent most of the time in some sort of annexe done out in baby pinks and blues. I remember staring at this stupid basket of dried flowers on the table while they were asking all the questions.”

  He glanced at her. “There were women everywhere, mostly out of uniform. I think it’s where they take female victims: battered women and the like. And juvie offenders, probably.”

  “Did they take you straight there?”

  “No. It happened so fast it’s all a blur, now. One minute I was squashed in the back seat of the Fiesta between Jimmy and Dave, being chased by the police. The next, I was handcuffed to this big copper in the back of a squad car with Dave on the other side of him and a police woman in the front driving back to the nick.”

  “Were you frightened?”

  “Not really. It got scary when Gerry almost crashed the car; everyone was shouting and swearing.” He took a gulp of tea. “When he stopped, they swarmed all over the
car. Paul made a run for it; he wasn’t giving in easily and there was a scrap.”

  “Did you get hurt?” She must have sounded like the Spanish Inquisition, but she’d wanted to hear about this for a long time.

  “Nah. One of the coppers – a big chap – was keen, but they were ok if you did as you were told and didn’t give them any lip. They took us all to this big room down by the cells, but Gerry told them I was only fourteen, so they took me to the annexe bit. Jimmy shouted at me to tell them he was fourteen, too, but the big guy didn’t believe him.”

  “He must be two years older than you; he’s in the sixth form.”

  “He’s never spoken to me since then. I try to stay out of his way.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Like I said, it was all WPC’s apart from one bloke. He seemed really concerned about why I wanted to take the car in the first place, going on about how did I think the poor lady who owned the car felt.”

  He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable at the memory. “I told him the truth: I didn’t want any part of it. You don’t know how much I wish I hadn’t gone out that night. Jimmy had called round, full of this great adventure we were going on.”

  Another pause while he devoured his cake, washing it down with tea. “When we met the others outside the pub and they told me what they were going to do, I tried to stop them. Jimmy got really nasty and he and Dave hung on to me to make sure I didn’t get away.”

  “How awful. You must have been so pee’d off when you got caught.”

  “No, I was glad. It meant I could finally be free of them. I’d been looking for a way out for a while. Anyway, some off-duty copper heard them talking about it in the pub and followed them out to meet me an’ Jimmy. At least he seemed to be on my side. And then Mrs T came along and said her bit.”

  He swigged the last of his tea. “They let me off with a warning.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I had to stand in a big office while the sergeant told me he never wanted to see me on this side of his police station again unless I joined the force. That was the worst bit: I really wanted to make him believe he never would, but I could tell by his face he didn’t believe me. Mrs Timons said to take no notice; he was just trying to put the fear of God into me. He surely did that, all right.”

  “Was she with you the whole time?”

  “Pretty much as soon as I reached the annexe.”

  “Why her?”

  “When they asked me for an adult contact I gave them Aunt Sheila’s number, but she couldn’t come. Pete still needed constant care back then, and she’s got two kids of her own as well. Apparently she used to be at school with Mrs Timons and knew she was my tutor.”

  “Wow, imagine having a teacher as a family friend. How weird.”

  A glance at his watch had him packing up his things. “Yeah. Look, Kat. You’re right, it has helped me to get rid of some of this stuff, but I think I’d better go now. I’ve got some things to do before dad gets back.”

  “Ok. Thanks very much for your help. I’m glad the talking thing worked.”

  “Yeah. See you.” He dropped a dry little kiss on her forehead – his old parting gesture.

  He’d almost reached the door when she said, “Welcome back.”

  With a grin, he was gone.

  8 That’s Some Eyebrow Action

  Following her trainer, Bernie’s instructions, Jude once more attempted a triple toe-loop jump, this time without thinking about it. She almost made it, but landed on the wrong edge of the blade, so the finish was nothing like as perfect as it had been in the morning session, when she’d got it right three times in a row.

  “Almost. That’ll do for today. You know I don’t like to push it in the afternoon session, when you’ve been working all day.”

  “I know, but I really thought I had it this morning.”

  “You did. Two sessions in one day is never a good idea. In future if you can’t make the Tuesday morning session, we’ll just cancel.”

  “But I need all the practice I can get with the competition coming up.”

  “So you said. But not twice in one day. Ok?”

  “Yo da boss, Boss.” She saluted.

  Bernie rolled his eyes. “Let’s take it from the top, and this time, stick to doubles all the way through.”

  “But then the timing will be out.”

  “Because you can’t add a filler step or two?” His look said it all; her mind was most definitely not on the job.

  She tried his technique of consigning her distracting thoughts onto a blank page, to be filled at a later date. Or in this case, three blank pages, with the headings Liv, Diana, and Luke. Or should there be a fourth with Ray? If only she had time to contemplate all the crazy aspects of her life pulling her apart like strings on a marionette.

  The complex Latin American rhythms of her chosen song and equally complicated sequence of jumps and spins occupied her mind fully for the remainder of the session, and Bernie gave a round of applause, something he rarely did. “Well done, Jude. I can see all that effort we put into getting your brain match-ready has paid off. Now you can go and worry to your heart’s content about whoever is making you frown.”

  Really? She was that transparent? With a grin, Jude did her customary couple of laps razzing round the rink to cool down. Uppermost in her mind, was the new kid in town. And especially the devastating, unfamiliar effect he had on her. Unfamiliar because Jude didn’t do boys.

  Her punishing sporting schedule had kept her away from normal teen girl pastimes. Like drooling after the inaccessible heartthrobs who decorated the covers of most of the school planners belonging to girls. Planner art had developed so much it was no longer enough merely to doodle the name of their favourite singer, band, or movie star. Strong competition for the most bling involved glitter, lace and even diamantes. Jude’s planner had nothing more than her name; she didn’t do girly. And she certainly didn’t do hopelessly besotted. Yeah, she understood the attraction of a pretty face, but it didn’t define who she was. Some things were more important.

  Ray was different to all the immature, foolish prats she’d met so far at high school. In a few short hours, he’d managed to wake up those hormones she normally put to better use in pursuit of sporting excellence. With a couple of glances, he’d transmitted his interest in her in a way that turned her normally immune self into a vat of receptors, willing to melt at the slightest whiff of testosterone.

  No one had ever done that before. Correction, she hadn’t allowed anyone to do that before. Not since the whole debacle with Luke, which frequently reared its ugly head just enough to confuse and arouse her. Before reminding her, in no uncertain terms, why it would never work between the two of them.

  She needed to shower off the healthy sheen of sweat, and her train of thought continued as she headed to the changing rooms. Events had conspired to ensure her first meeting with Luke had not gone well. Jude was transported back to year seven.

  The first week at “big school” had been a trial. As a newcomer to the area, she knew only one person in the whole school, but quarantine from German measles had kept Kat away for the first couple of weeks, leaving Jude totally friendless.

  At her primary school, she had way more in common with the boys, playing rounders and British bulldog with them in the playground at break. So far, high school was no different; she had nothing in common with most of the girls she met.

  Her first brush with Diana came on the third day, when the youngsters were finally allowed out onto the field after storms had kept them indoors for all breaks. After lunch, she’d asked a lad in her class if she could join in their rounders game and he told her to grab the bat and take a turn. The vivid memory felt more like yesterday than four years ago.

  “Run, Jude, run.” Three or four lads urged her on; impressed with the way she knocked the ball way out of reach of the furthest fielder. She gave free rein to legs used to running faster than anyone else in her primary school. Jude
was only vaguely aware of the tall blonde lad, next up to bat, who shouted at her as she sprinted towards third-base. But her take-no-prisoners competitive spirit had kicked in. Nothing could stop her now; she had her sights set on fourth base.

  As she levelled with the lad standing at third, her well-trained peripheral-vision meant she was aware of him catching the ball as she flew past. Instead of throwing to the fourth base guy, he aimed it at her. And missed.

  She stomped her foot on fourth base, to loud congratulations from one of the waiting batsmen, but as she ran to join the others, she copped for a mouthful of angry boy.

  “What are you, deaf or stupid?”

  The lad who’d clapped her muttered, “Lay off her, Luke.”

  Jude glanced at the rest of the team, who all seemed a little unsure whether they should be congratulating her or not. She frowned. “Neither. I think you’ll find I just won us a rounder.”

  Her reply escalated Luke’s anger. “I don’t know what rules they use wherever you come from, but in this school you listen to the team captain.”

  “Sure, that’s pretty normal.” Jude looked around innocently. “And if I knew who he or she was, I would have listened. But in case you didn’t notice, I had every member of the team shouting at me. All saying to run on.”

  “We don’t need smart-arse girls in the team.” He waved her away; a gesture of dismissal. “Run along and play with some dolls.”

  She scanned the other players, none of whom could meet her eye, and not one of them stood up for her. A gang of girls stood nearby, watching the fun, and one of them, with shiny dark hair, shouted across, “You tell her, Luke. You don’t need lesbo girls on your team.”

  Jude’s shock at the word turned to mortification as the girl said something to her little crowd of followers which made them all shriek with laughter.

  Ignoring the various looks of horror and disgust on the boy’s faces, Jude shrugged as though none of it was important to her. She picked up her bag and casually strolled off, seeking a better company.

  But there was none to be had. For the first few weeks, the school organised that the year sevens should have their break at different time to the rest of the school. The idea being that they could find their feet without having to fight with the older kids for places in the lunch queue or spots on the playground and fields. Which meant most areas were pretty deserted.