In The Heart of The City
Page 3
Val came out. ‘Jason.’
‘Mum.’
‘Take him inside,’ Andrew urged. He heard sirens howling in the distance. Coming here, he prayed.
‘No, I’m not—’ Jason began to protest, but Andrew shushed him.
‘Come inside, Jason,’ Val said.
‘I think he’s in shock,’ Andrew told her. ‘He must have seen it all.’
‘Oh, Mum. Mum.’
‘Come on, love. Dad’ll look after him.’ Jason went with her.
Andrew crouched down closer to the boy. He could smell the blood raw on the night air; it made his gorge rise. He put his hand gently on the boy’s chest and felt movement, a slight rise and fall. Yes! Oh, thank God. He scrambled to his feet and ran to meet the ambulance, aware that neighbours were coming to their gates and others pulling their curtains back, peering out through snowy stencils, their faces illuminated by twinkling fairy lights and the garish pulse of flashier outdoor decorations.
The paramedics wanted Andrew to move away while they assessed the victim, and a police officer asked for Val. Andrew took him inside. Val was coming downstairs with a blanket for Jason. ‘He’s still shivering,’ she told Andrew.
‘Sugar,’ he said. ‘I’ll make him a drink. The police want you.’
The officer nodded and introduced himself and asked Val if she could tell him what had happened. He followed her into the front room. Andrew looked in. Jason was white as a sheet; he looked awful, just like he used to before he was sick as a child after an unwise fairground ride, or a long car journey. ‘Jason?’
‘Dad.’ His voice was thick, gluey. Val glanced over, stopped talking. Andrew felt it in the room, a current, electric, biting at the back of his neck, crackling up his spine. He moved towards his son. ‘I feel—’ Jason slumped forward, his legs skittering on the carpet. There was a dark stain on the back of the armchair, wet, deep vivid red. The same on his parka.
‘Oh my God!’ Val dropped the blanket and ran to him.
‘Jason!’ They were both beside him. Then there was blood coming from his nose. Andrew grasped his shoulders, tried to straighten him up. His mind screaming: What do I do? What do I do? Help, please help. Sounds colliding around him, shouts, and a paramedic pulling his arms away from Jason. Jason on the floor, on his side, Val weeping. Someone pulling them back, getting between them and their son. Stab wound. Who said it? Stab wound. Panic rearing inside him like waves, higher and higher, and he couldn’t stay still. Val biting her fist, shaking her head, strands of her blonde hair stuck to her face. Then they were moving him and someone would take them to the hospital. Did they have their house keys? Phones?
Outside it was snowing again, fat flakes pirouetting in the street lights, settling and turning red on the front lawn.