I nod. ‘Mum is.’
‘I’ll run you home,’ he says. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock.’
Like I don’t know that already.
He drives us home in the police car, me and Gary. We stop outside my house first. The policeman gets out of the car and lets me out. But instead of getting back in the car, he walks me up to the door and then knocks.
Mum answers the door with a look of total horror.
‘Zoë!’ she says. ‘What’s happened? Where have you been?’
I look down at the ground.
‘It’s nothing to worry about, Mrs Wildsmith,’ the policeman says. ‘Zoë isn’t in any trouble. She’s just had a nasty shock.’
Mum gasps and throws her arms round me.
While the policeman explains what’s happened, I get sent upstairs, ‘to have a lie down’. Downstairs, I can hear Mum and the policeman talking. I stand by the door, just inside my room, and listen, but they’re talking in hushed voices. All I catch is something about trespassing and dangerous buildings, then signs to look out for and counselling. The front door closes and Mum starts to walk up the stairs. I get into bed and pull the duvet up over myself.
A few seconds later, Mum knocks gently on my bedroom door and then opens it. She peers round the door. ‘Mind if I come in?’ she says in a gentle voice.
‘No,’ I say. It comes out in a croak.
Mum walks in and sits down on the end of my bed. ‘You all right, love?’
I nod. But I don’t feel all right. I feel strange. Restless. I can’t really explain it.
‘Listen, love, if you need to talk about what you saw today, I just want you to know – you can talk to me. OK?’
I nod.
Mum looks at me. She has a sort of sad smile on her face. ‘Would you like a hot chocolate or something?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m all right, Mum. I just want to be on my own.’
When Mum’s gone, I lie down on my bed. Only when I do, I can feel something in the pocket. The keys. I take them out of my pocket. Oh crap!
.
David
I’m up in my room, doing some maths homework, when I hear Mum’s car crunch up the gravel in the drive. A minute or so later, she puts her key in the front door and comes into the house. I’m stuck on question seven, so I go downstairs.
‘Hi, David,’ she says. ‘Ollie not at home?’
I shake my head.
‘Ooh, what a day I’ve had. I’m cream-crackered,’ Mum says. ‘Be a love and put the kettle on, will you?’
I go through to the kitchen and grab the kettle.
‘How was your day?’ Mum calls through from the hallway.
I think for a second about Gary Wood. ‘All right, bit boring,’ I say. Cos I can’t mention the crap job I did of looking out for him today. How I let my best mate get away with flobbing in Gary’s drink and how I watched him drink it. So I walk over to the sink and fill the kettle with water instead.
Mum walks into the kitchen, flicking through a wad of post. ‘Bills, bills and more bills.’
I plug the kettle in and turn to Mum. ‘Do you want tea?’
‘Yeah,’ she says.
I grab the box of tea bags out of the cupboard.
‘Oh, make us a proper cup in the pot, will you?’
‘OK,’ I say. But what I really want to say to her is about what happened today, about Wood and Knaggs and the lemon squash. ‘Mum?’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ she says, looking at one of the bills.
I sigh. I can’t say it. How would I say it? Maybe, ‘Mum, you’ll never guess how much of a coward I was today.’ I turn away from her to the cupboard and take down the tea pot and tea.
.
Gary
Dad used to moan like crazy about Henry. Mainly cos Henry was a lazy sod. Dad used to say that Henry couldn’t be bothered to run a fucking bath, let alone a farm. I reckon if you didn’t know the two of them, you’d think that Dad and Henry didn’t get on. But they did.
Most nights they’d go down the Swan together. They used to sit at the bar and drink Guinness. Dad always said that Henry was a mean bastard as well as a lazy one – he’d never get Dad a drink. Dad reckoned Henry had this little scam going on in the pub. See, Henry’d buy a pint and drink about three quarters of it, so there was only a little bit left. Then he’d take it back to the bar and ask George, the landlord, to put another half in. George’d just fill it right up to the top again. After four pints, Henry’d got one free. He might have been lazy and mean but he wasn’t stupid, old Henry.
It was Dad who found Henry’s body. In the farmhouse. Dad wasn’t working for him any more by then, but every so often he’d go and see Henry, check he was all right. Only that time he wasn’t. He’d shot himself. Henry’s family told everyone he’d been cleaning a gun, his finger had slipped and it was an accident. But I know that’s not true. Even Henry weren’t daft enough to clean a loaded shotgun that was pointed in his mouth. Poor bugger shot himself on purpose. He couldn’t take it no more.
.
Wednesday
Zoë
Mum looks at me, all concerned, as I walk into the kitchen. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’
I sit down at the table. ‘All right, I s’pose.’
But I don’t feel all right. I’m lying. I feel weird. Tired. Guilty. I couldn’t shut my eyes last night, cos every time I did I could see the medal man lying in that bed, covered in his own sick, purple, lifeless. I’ve never seen a dead body before. I had that horrible smell in my nostrils. And I kept playing those few seconds when I saw him staggering down the road the other day, when I thought about helping him, over and over in my head. I wish I’d done something different. I should have got him to go to a doctor. He’d be alive now. He’d be in hospital or a hostel. Instead of dead.
And when I wasn’t thinking about the medal man, I was thinking about the tractor keys. By two in the morning I was so paranoid I was sure the police were gonna break down my door and search my bedroom. They’d have found the keys and done me for theft. Or murder. Or both. Last time I checked my clock, it said 03:10. I must have fallen asleep after that. The light was still on when I woke up.
‘You should stay off school today, Zo,’ Dad says. ‘After what happened yesterday.’
I stare at him. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Dad say I should stay off school before. He’s usually the one saying I should go in, even if I’m dying of flu. He has a concerned look on his face.
‘Really, Zoë,’ he says. ‘I think you should.’
I can’t think straight and I’m so tired that I just nod my head.
‘I’ll phone the school,’ Mum says.
.
David
I’m in my room, getting ready for school, when my phone goes. I pick it up off my bed and open the message. It’s from Knaggs: U WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS – WOOD & ZOË FOUND A DEAD TRAMP LAST NIGHT! LOL ;O) I read it a couple of times to check whether I’ve missed something. I’m not sure if I’m meant to take it seriously or not. Maybe it’s Knaggs’s idea of a joke. I decide to try and ignore it. I put my phone down and finish doing my school tie up.
But I can’t ignore it. I have to know what he means. So I pick up my phone again and text Knaggs back: WHAT? IS THAT A JOKE?
I sit on my bed and wait for a reply. Twenty seconds later my phone beeps again. NO. SERIOUS! BIG ROB’S DAD HAD TO GIVE THEM A LIFT HOME! THEY FOUND IT IN WALLINGHAM.
Which makes sense, I s’pose, cos Big Rob’s dad is a policeman. But what doesn’t make sense is how they found a tramp’s body. Or why they found a tramp’s body. This is weird. I think about texting Knaggs back again, asking him for more details. But I put my blazer on and then go downstairs to get my bag for school.
.
Knaggs can
’t help himself. As soon as he sees Wood in the playground, he calls over to him, ‘Oi, Wood. What’s it like to kill a man?’
Wood looks up at him, confused. Only for a second, though. Cos then he gets his head down again, as though he’s trying hard to ignore Knaggs. Knaggs walks closer to him, laughing.
‘You gonna do a bag lady next, then?’ Knaggs says.
Wood doesn’t look up at all. He’s trying not to react.
And I know what I should do. I should get Knaggs away from him. ‘Knaggs,’ I say.
But Knaggs ignores me, doesn’t even look at me. He just follows Wood. ‘Where’s your girlfriend today?’ he asks.
‘Knaggs,’ I say, ‘come on, let’s go –’
But Knaggs still doesn’t look at me. He keeps following Wood. ‘Oi, Wood,’ he says. He sounds kind of angry, like he’s trying to start a fight. ‘I said, where’s your girlfriend today?’
Wood looks angry too. He keeps walking towards the school building, away from Knaggs. But Knaggs keeps following.
‘I heard she got sent to prison,’ Knaggs says. ‘Is it true?’
Wood’s face is red now. He looks like he’s gonna blow at any second. Knaggs should be careful. When Wood loses it he’s scary.
‘Knaggs,’ I say, ‘come on, let’s go and play football.’ I put my hand on Knaggs’s arm. But he shrugs it straight off.
‘Hey, I heard that the police were outside Mr Moore’s office,’ Knaggs says. ‘They’re on to you, Wood. You better start running.’
Wood doesn’t look up. He’s nearly at the doors now. He looks like he’s either gonna cry or explode if he doesn’t get away from Knaggs.
‘You’ll get life for killing a tramp,’ Knaggs says. ‘Hey, you better be careful in the prison showers!’
Wood reaches the doors into school. He pulls them open but then stops. He glares at Knaggs, like he’s deciding whether to smack him in the face. And he stares at me, just for a second. Then he’s gone.
Knaggs turns to me and smiles. ‘Stupid bloody farmer,’ he says.
.
Zoë
I’ve been up in my bedroom all morning. It’s looking more like my room now with all my stuff scattered across the floor, untidy. You can hardly see the carpet. Mum usually complains about it, but she hasn’t today. I wonder how long it’ll last, this sympathy. I’m not sure whether I like it.
I keep looking at the keys. I need to get rid of them. I need to take them to the farmhouse. Maybe that’s what I should do today: just take them there, put them back and then never go to the place again. Forget it happened. Forget about the medal man. Start my normal life in Norfolk right now. No more loners, no more psycho boys, no more dead tramps. Just normal people and normal things.
But I keep thinking about him. The medal man. It’s really sad. That sounds like a really stupid thing to say, like an understatement, but what else do you say? Imagine that being how your life ends. Full of cider, choking on your own vomit in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Poor guy. He must have a family somewhere, maybe brothers or sisters. He might have had kids. I wonder if they even know what’s happened.
.
David
We’re having science in the ICT room today. A bit of a novelty. Mr Hambleton wants us to make a Powerpoint presentation about space travel and gravity.
‘Use some of the websites I’m writing on the board to help you with your research,’ Mr H says. ‘I want the first two slides done before lunchtime, please.’
And he lets us get on with it. We’re all partnered up. All apart from Gary Wood. I’m working with Knaggs. Knaggs is on the right-hand side. He always sits there so he can be in control of the mouse. Same every lesson.
‘Shall we start researching, then?’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ Knaggs says. ‘I have got something I want to research, as it happens!’ He goes straight to Google and types in ‘tramp murderer’.
‘Knaggs, don’t,’ I say. And I try to grab the mouse off him.
But he just holds it away from me and presses ‘search’.
I sigh and let him do it, hoping that he’ll get bored in a moment so we can get our work done.
The results appear on-screen. Knaggs clicks on the top link. It’s a news story on the BBC website about a man who set a tramp on fire while he was sleeping on a park bench.
‘Jesus, look at him!’ Knaggs says, pointing at the picture of the murderer. ‘Look familiar?’
I stare at the picture. He does look familiar. He looks like Gary Wood, only about 20 years older. Same short ginger hair, same freckles, same half-angry, half-gormless look on his face. I laugh. ‘Yeah!’
Knaggs right-clicks on the picture and copies it. He opens up a Powerpoint file and pastes the picture on to the first slide.
‘Knaggs, don’t,’ I say. ‘We’re s’posed to be doing the gravity thing.’ I try and grab the mouse off him. But Knaggs pushes me off with his left arm and holds the mouse away from me with his right.
‘Get off me, you gay!’ he says.
Mr Hambleton comes over. ‘What’s all the fuss about, boys?’ he says.
Knaggs looks up at him. ‘David’s trying to stop me using the mouse, sir,’ he says. ‘And it’s my turn.’
‘He’s not doing it properly. He’s searching for the wrong things!’ I say.
Mr H ignores us both. He’s staring at the screen. At the first slide, with the picture of the murderer on it. ‘Who’s that?’ he says.
Quick as a flash, Knaggs says, ‘It’s an astronaut, sir. Some Russian bloke.’
Mr H nods his head, like he’s agreeing with what Knaggs says. ‘OK, you mean a cosmonaut, Paul. Well, get on sensibly, boys,’ he says. And he’s off around the classroom again.
Straight away Knaggs looks around the ICT room. ‘Oi, Wood,’ he calls.
Wood is at a computer on the other side of the room. He looks round.
‘Have a look at this, Gary,’ Knaggs says. He moves out of the way so that Wood can see it.
Wood looks at our screen. He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, but he knows it’s a wind-up.
‘Put “tramp murderer” into Google and that’s what you get,’ Knaggs says. ‘Must be like looking in a mirror, mustn’t it, Wood?’
Wood turns round right away.
Knaggs looks at me and laughs. And then he sits there and adds stuff to the slide. First a background. Then some text: ‘Gary Wood murders tramps!’
And I sit there and let him do it. Cos I’m a coward. Cos even though I want to stop him, even though I want to tell Mr H, I can’t. I’m too scared.
When Knaggs has finished with the text, he starts animating it all, making it appear on the screen in different ways, with sound effects. He turns round again.
‘Hey, Wood,’ he says. ‘Look at it now.’
Wood turns. Knaggs hits ‘start slideshow’ on the computer. And then the picture of the murderer and the words ‘Gary Wood murders tramps!’ start dancing all over the screen to gunshot sound effects. Wood sits there and stares at it. And as he stares, his eyes bulge. His jaw clenches. People at other computers look over as well. They look at the computer and they look at Wood, as though they’re comparing the picture with Gary’s face. And just as I think Wood’s about to explode, to come over and grab Knaggs and smash his head into the computer screen, he just turns round and stares at his own computer.
.
Zoë
After lunch, Mum comes up the stairs. She knocks, peeps round the door and smiles at me like I’m her poorly little girl. ‘How are you feeling now?’ she says. ‘Have you slept?’
‘I’m all right, Mum,’ I say quietly.
‘Have you slept, Zoë?’ she says again.
I shake my head.
Mum sighs. ‘Listen, Zoë, I�
��ve got to go to town and get a few bits and bobs. Do you want to come with me?’
I shake my head.
‘Are you sure?’ Mum says. ‘A trip out might help take your mind off things.’
I smile at her. ‘Honestly, Mum, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I’ll stay here. Maybe I’ll have a sleep.’
‘OK.’ But Mum doesn’t really sound like she wants to leave me alone in the house. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’
I shake my head.
.
As soon as Mum’s out of the drive, I start getting dressed. I feel manky in this dressing gown. It’s making me feel like I’m ill, when I’m not. As soon as I’m dressed, I grab the keys. I’m gonna do it. I’ve decided. I’m gonna take them back while Mum’s out. I have to. Then I can forget about all this crap. Maybe things will get back to normal then. Whatever normal is.
I feel guilty as soon as I’m outside, shifty, like I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want anyone to see me. I don’t want people looking at me, wondering why I’m walking around the streets instead of being at school. But most of all, I don’t want anyone to see me going back to the house, like I’ve got something to hide. The police might be there – I know that. I’ve already worked out what I’ll do if they are. I’m gonna look over at the farmhouse from the gate in the field. I’ll be able to see if there are any police cars there. And if there are, I’ll just go home. I don’t know what I’ll do with the keys, though. I guess I could throw them somewhere: the middle of a field or something, in the river maybe. But if I do that, I’ll always be thinking about them. Thinking about someone finding them. Thinking about my fingerprints all over the keys. I’d look guilty if I threw them away, like I really did have something to hide. And I don’t.
I turn right at the end of my road. There’s no traffic, as usual. So I walk in the road. Keep going, out of the village. Fields and hedges and a road and nothing else. No cars, no people. Nothing.
Inside My Head Page 10
