In the Bag

by Jim Carrington

  ‘You found it?’ he says. ‘Some people might call it finding, others might call it stealing.’

  ‘I found it,’ I say again. ‘I know where your money is as well.’

  At the other end of the line the sound becomes muffled, like someone’s put their hand over the mouthpiece or something. There’s talking going on, but I can’t work out what they’re saying. I look at Joe and Rabbit again. Their eyes are begging me to tell them what’s happening.

  ‘Right,’ the deep voice says. ‘Let’s talk. You can start by telling me where my money is.’

  ‘Fayrewood,’ I say. ‘Fayrewood Common.’

  I hear the man breathe in deeply and then out again. ‘Where?’

  ‘The common. You need to go to Redlands Way in Fayrewood,’ I say. ‘Go into the common through the first entrance.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Turn off the path to the right as soon as you’re inside, go through the gorse bushes for about ten metres. You’ll find a sheet of corrugated iron over a pit. The bag’s hidden underneath.’

  There’s nothing but background noise at the other end of the phone for a while. ‘You better be telling me the truth,’ the voice says. It sounds more threatening now.

  ‘I am,’ I say. And again I sound feeble.

  ‘Because if this is a trick, if this is a set-up, I will hunt you down and kill you,’ he says. ‘Do you understand me?’

  ‘It’s not a trick,’ I say. ‘I found your money but I don’t want it.’

  There’s more background noise at the other end – cars whooshing past. And then the phone goes dead. I slowly lower it and switch it off. I look at Joe and Rabbit.

  ‘There,’ I say. ‘It’s done.’

  Neither of them smiles. Neither of them says a word. They both look like they’re in shock. Like I feel.

  I drop the phone on the floor.

  ‘What you doing?’ Joe says.

  I don’t answer him. I just slam my foot down on the phone. It doesn’t smash like I imagined it would, just kind of slides underneath my foot. I lift my foot and slam it down again and again till it comes apart.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ Joe says.

  I bend down to pick the pieces up. ‘Why d’you think?’ I say. ‘Now they can’t phone us back. That’s it. We don’t have to worry about it ever again.’

  Joe nods. He comes over and helps me pick up the pieces.

  After I’ve dumped the phone pieces in a dog shit bin, I go home. I don’t really feel like hanging out with Joe and Rabbit right now. There’s an atmosphere between us all. Everyone seems pissed off with each other. I’d rather be on my own. Mum and Dad are both at work, like always, so the house is silent and empty when I get in. I go upstairs and put some music on shuffle, try to relax a bit. I take out the weed, roll myself a spliff and have a smoke. And I start to feel a bit better about what we’ve just done.

  God knows how long I sit there doing nothing, staring into space and listening to music. I must have gone into a kind of daze. But that’s interrupted when I hear something from outside. A car. It sounds like Dad. I jump up off my bed and go to the window. And sure enough, I see Dad’s car pull into the drive.

  Shit! What’s he doing home? He should be at work. Maybe he forgot something. What if he realises that I’m here instead of at school? I duck down from the window, crawl over and switch my music off. And then I lie on the floor beside my bed, so that even if Dad opens my bedroom door he won’t be able to see me.

  As I’m lying on the floor, I hear Dad’s voice outside. Who’s he talking to? Maybe he’s just on his phone. But I hear someone else. A woman. She laughs. It doesn’t sound like Mum.

  From downstairs, I hear Dad’s key sliding into the lock and the front door opening. I hear his voice again, laughing and joking, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. And then the woman’s voice again. She giggles. The front door closes behind them. What are they doing?

  They carry on talking, but I still can’t work out what they’re saying. I hear them go into the kitchen and get some glasses out. I lie still, my cheek pressed against the carpet, holding my breath, listening, trying to work out what on earth is going on. And then I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, running up the stairs. And I hear Dad’s voice again, but clearly this time.

  ‘Come on, you dirty cow,’ he says.

  The woman giggles again.

  And I know exactly what’s going on. I hear the spare bedroom door open and then slam shut. I lie still for a couple of seconds. My blood starts to boil. I can’t bloody believe that Dad would do this. Bastard. I feel so angry. I just want to go in there and punch his lights out. Pull them away from each other and chuck them both out on to the pavement.

  There are noises coming from the spare bedroom. I try not to listen. I can’t hear this. No way. I get up from the floor and go over to my drawers. I grab some weed and get out of my room. I creep down the stairs, ignoring the noises and voices from upstairs. I open the front door. But before I go outside, I look back up the stairs. My blood begins to boil again.

  ‘BASTARD!’ I shout up the stairs.

  And then I close the front door, get my bike and go.

  Joe

  It’s nearly five o’clock when I hear a car pull up outside the house. Someone dropping Kate off from netball practice. The car door opens. I hear Kate say something and then close it. The car accelerates away down the road. I hear Kate open the front door, slam it closed behind her and then come running up the stairs. She knocks on my door. She comes barging in before I can even shout, ‘Go away.’

  ‘How come you weren’t in school today?’

  I look up at her. I knew this would happen. I’ve been trying to think of an excuse all afternoon. But the truth is, I can’t think of one.

  ‘I was.’

  She raises an eyebrow. ‘You were not. You weren’t on the bus this morning.’

  I look away from her, pretending I’m not interested or worried by her accusation. ‘I got a lift,’ I say.

  ‘Liar,’ she replies. ‘Who with?’

  ‘What’s it to you?’ I say. ‘I don’t have to answer to you.’

  She shakes her head. She’s acting like she’s my mum. ‘No,’ she says. ‘But you’ll have to answer to Mum and Dad, though, if I tell them.’

  I sigh. ‘I got a lift with Ash,’ I say. ‘I went round there this morning and he was running late, so his Dad ran us into school.’ Which is a pretty good lie considering I made it up on the spot.

  She doesn’t say anything back right away. I look at her and smile.

  ‘I didn’t see you in school,’ she says eventually.

  ‘So?’ I reply. ‘You never see me in school. You’re in Year Nine and I’m in Year Eleven.’

  ‘I’m gonna ask someone if you were on the bus home after school,’ she says. ‘I bet you weren’t.’

  I pretend to act cool. ‘Go ahead,’ I say. ‘Ask whoever you like.’

  She narrows her eyes at me. ‘I know you’re up to something,’ she says. She stays standing there for a couple of seconds, like she’s going to say something else, but she doesn’t and eventually she turns and goes to her room.

  Ash

  I’ve been at the rec most of the afternoon, smoking and thinking. About my dad. What a total bastard. How could he do that to Mum? How could he do it to me? Although, to be honest, I don’t think I want to know the answers to those questions. I don’t want anything to do with Dad full stop.

  Maybe I should have realised. He’s always getting home late. Him and Mum are always arguing. They always have done. Maybe Dad’s been having an affair for years. I wonder if Mum knows. I don’t think she does. Surely she wouldn’t still be with him if she knew. Would she? Making excuses for him, saying he’s working late and all that?

  I get up off the bench and grab my bike, start pushing it across the grass. School must be finished by now, cos there are a load of primary school kids on the field playing football. I walk my bike round the edge of
the pitch they’re playing on. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground. And a question pops into my head – one that I don’t want to have to think about. Shall I tell Mum what I heard? Or shall I just keep quiet, let Dad drop himself in it? Cos if I tell Mum what happened this afternoon, I could ruin her life. And I’d be grassing myself up cos I’d have to explain what I was doing at home in the afternoon instead of being at school. Fuck it. Maybe I’ll just drop some hints, let her work it out for herself.

  I look up. There are a load of kids on the wall near the main road. I decide to head away from them. I don’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment. All I feel like doing is hitting my dad right in the middle of his face. I wheel my bike round the outside of the playpark, towards the gate at the end of the rec. But as I get near the gate, I hear footsteps behind me.

  ‘Ash!’ a voice calls.

  I turn round. It’s Mark. Manky Mark, as we call him behind his back.

  I stop walking as Mark rushes up to me and then stops.

  ‘Hey, listen, man,’ he says in his stupid homeboy voice. It’s stupid cos it’s so obviously fake – his dad has the broadest Dorset accent you can imagine. But Mark tries to sound like he was born in Jamaica or somewhere. ‘I heard you was selling some gear.’

  I look back at him. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Jack,’ he says.

  I nod my head, don’t say anything.

  ‘You still got any?’

  I don’t answer right away. I look beyond Mark, over at the playpark. I don’t have the money any more, so I might as well make something out of having found the bag. I look back at Mark. ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘A bit.’

  Mark smiles. ‘How much is it, man?’

  ‘Twenty quid,’ I say.

  He smiles and puts his hand in his pocket. ‘You got it on you?’

  I feel in my pocket. I have some. I grabbed it as I left the house. When I left the house, I was thinking about smoking the whole fucking lot. I only had one spliff, though. I nod. I close my fingers round the bag, shake Mark’s hand and he takes the weed. He pushes it up his sleeve and then puts his hand in his trouser pocket. He takes his hand out and passes the money to me. Then he winks at me.

  ‘Nice one, Ash.’ He walks off, back to the wall.

  I put the money in my pocket and push my bike along. I stop when I get to the burned-out flats. I look across the road at them, at the scrum of reporters who are still there. And I think about the bag and the man found dead in the flats. It makes me feel a little sick that we had the bag, that I held the gun, that we found the car. The car could have been the fucking murder scene. The gun could have been the murder weapon.

  I start pedalling again. I wonder whether the guy I spoke to has found the bag, whether we should go back and check. Cos what if they haven’t? What if they couldn’t find it? Someone else might have done. They could have taken it to the police.

  I stop my bike and send a message to Joe. Meet me at end of yr road in 2 mins. Gonna check if bag has gone.

  I think about sending it to Rabbit as well, but his house is too far away. I don’t want to have to wait for him to get here. I’ll let him know when we’ve checked.

  Joe

  My first reaction is to say, ‘Fuck you. I’m staying here.’ Cos I’m still pissed off about earlier, about the gun and about Rabbit knowing what happened on Friday night, about the mobile phone and the text message Ash didn’t show me. I don’t feel like seeing him or talking to him right now. I want him to know that I’m pissed off with him.

  But I also want to know what’s happened to the bag. I have to know that it’s been taken, that it’s out of our hands. It’ll set my mind at rest. So I grab a jumper, go downstairs, out of the front door and get on my bike.

  When I get to the end of the road, Ash is already there. He’s sitting on his bike, leaning back, his hood up over his head.

  ‘Hi, Joe,’ Ash says as I brake and stop just in front of him.

  I make a point of not making eye contact, not answering. I just nod my head once.

  We cycle in silence, turn left on to the main road and cycle out of town, take the turning down towards the common. The road is clear, which makes me feel better. At least whoever it was that Ash spoke to on the phone earlier isn’t sitting there waiting for us. We cycle along the road till we come to the entrance to the common. We get off our bikes and lean them up against the fence, look around us. Ash adjusts his hood and then we go in. We head straight off, round the gorse bushes, almost running.

  I can see before we get to the pit that the bag isn’t there any more. The sheet of corrugated iron has gone and the pit’s empty. Ash walks up to it and peers down inside. I hang back, look around the common. There’s no one here. And now that we know the bag’s gone, I’d rather not be here.

  Ash turns on his heels. ‘Well, that’s the end of that then,’ he says. He doesn’t sound happy about it. He sounds kind of angry.

  I nod. ‘Yeah. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ he says. ‘Come and help me.’

  He starts walking off round the pit, where the sheet of corrugated iron has been thrown. I follow him. We pick it up and take it to where it was before, to the patch of light-coloured, flattened grass. We put it down and then we get away from the common as quickly as we can.

  When we’re back on the main road, cycling home, Ash takes his hood off and looks at me. For a second I think he’s gonna say something, like maybe, ‘Sorry about lying to you.’ But he doesn’t. He looks ahead again and keeps on going.

  We get to the top of Ash’s road without exchanging a single word. We both stop. We sit on our bikes. A few moments pass without us looking at each other or even speaking. It feels sort of awkward. I look up at Ash. He’s kind of slumped over the handlebars of his bike, looking down at the tarmac. He looks totally pissed off. I feel like I should at least say something to fill the silence, if nothing else.

  ‘Do you think they’ll notice there’s stuff missing from the bag?’

  Ash looks up all of a sudden. ‘What?’

  I stare back at him. There’s a weird look on his face and I don’t know what it means. ‘The money,’ I say. ‘We spent some of it. Do you think they’ll notice?’

  He keeps looking at me with that weird expression on his face. It’s like he’s accusing me of something. Then he looks away again, at someone’s front garden. He shakes his head. ‘Who cares?’ he says. ‘They don’t know who we are, so they can hardly come and ask for it back, can they? It’s over.’

  I suppose he’s right. I hope so. I put my foot on the pedal and my hands on the handlebars and I go home.

  Ash

  Dad’s car isn’t in the drive any more. Probably just as well. Cos if I saw him right now I’d probably do something stupid – something I’d regret for the rest of my life. I leave my bike out the front and go inside, run straight upstairs to the back bedroom.

  The room looks like nothing’s been touched. All the sheets are pristine, like no one’s been here, like Dad didn’t come back with someone. Like I imagined it all. I begin to doubt myself. Maybe I did imagine it.

  I turn and leave the room, go back down the stairs, into the kitchen. I heard Dad in here earlier. The draining board’s empty. I open up the dishwasher and pull out the drawers with a dull clunk. Nothing in there except the plates from last night, a couple of mugs and the breakfast stuff from this morning. No sign that anyone’s been home during the day. I shove the drawers back, close the dishwasher. And then I just stand, staring, not really even thinking. Lost. Empty.

  After a while I go over to the cupboard, grab a pint glass and fill it with water. Then I head back up the stairs to my room and shut the door behind me. I go over to my iPod and switch it on, turn it up loud.

  A bit later I hear the front door shut and Mum putting her keys down on the worktop in the kitchen.

  ‘Ashley, I’ve got your tea here,’ she shouts up the stairs.

  My mind is made up. I wai
t a second, try and prepare myself. Not that anything could prepare me for this. And then I go downstairs, taking each step slowly. As I get to the bottom the smell of Chinese takeaway hits my nose. Mum’s in the kitchen, getting plates and bowls and cutlery out, opening takeaway cartons. She looks up and smiles as I walk towards her. I think about coming straight out with it. Telling her now. I open my mouth and try and think what to say. But I can’t do it. Maybe it’s the smile on her face. Maybe I’m just too much of a coward. I don’t know.

  ‘You OK, Ashley?’ Mum says without looking at me. ‘I got some takeaway in.’

  I look at the food so I don’t have to look at Mum. ‘Chinese?’ I say, cos I don’t know what else to say.

  ‘Yeah. Barbecued ribs, sweet and sour pork, special fried rice, beef in oyster sauce,’ she says, pointing at each of the cartons. ‘Thought we could have a treat. Your dad won’t be back till late as usual, I expect.’

  I look up at her for a second, expecting to see a look in her eye, like maybe she knows what I know about Dad. But she’s not even looking at me, she’s just scraping the food into bowls. I walk past her. ‘Do you want a drink?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Mum says. ‘I’ve been dying for a coffee all afternoon.’

  So I grab the kettle and fill it, take it over to the side and plug it in. I fetch two mugs and the jar of coffee and spoon some into each cup. And then I stare out of the back window into the garden. My mind starts to wander, about what happened today. About the bag. About Dad. It’s been some shitty day. And it can only get worse.

  ‘Penny for them,’ Mum says.

  I turn round. ‘Uh?’

  ‘Your thoughts,’ Mum says. ‘Penny for your thoughts. You were miles away.’

  I nod and smile, but it isn’t a real smile. I try and think of something to say. Do I tell her now? I look away from her. ‘Just thinking about exams and stuff,’ I say.