by Shaun Baines
And then the real games began. Deprivation moved in, drawing people like Min Choo into its fold.
He was five foot tall with a slight build and a spine weighted like a drooping daffodil. At twenty-five years old, he had stopped growing when adolescence failed to kick in. Choo was the eternal child, something his mother relished, often calling him her little Choo-choo train. He didn't like the name and waited for the day when he might tell her.
Flickering orange streetlamps lit the night in spurts. Between the flashes, there was enough darkness to keep him on edge. Choo crept past a darkened doorway, his eyes flitting from shadow to shadow. All seemed quiet. Rather than feel relieved, Choo frowned and wondered about making another call.
Reaching to his sock, he paused at the sound of laughter.
Limping around a corner, he saw that the walkway to Shields Road was blocked by a group of young teenagers. They varied in age, but not in dress. Dark tracksuit bottoms with tramlines running down their legs. Shirts buttoned to the neck. They hung from metal railings like monkeys, smoking roll-ups and passing around bottles of White Strike cider.
Choo glanced over his shoulder, hoping he hadn't been spotted.
"What you doing around here, mate?" One of the larger girls stepped forward. Her face was long and thin, like an angry exclamation mark. She was older than the rest, somewhere in her twenties. Her shoulders were broad and she wore golden hoops in her ears.
The girl flicked her cigarette to the ground. "Can I have a smoke, mate?"
Choo's mouth dried. "Sorry, I don't have any cigarettes."
"What about your phone? Can I borrow your phone?"
The rest of the gang sloped to their feet, surrounding Choo in a disorderly circle.
He knew what was going to happen. He'd been here before. His size and stature made him the perfect victim.
"I don't have a phone," he said. "I left it at home."
The large girl sucked on her teeth. "Why would you do something like that?"
"In case I get mugged."
"Are you saying we're muggers?" the girl asked, her beady eyes flashing. "Are you calling us thieves?"
The gang laughed. One of the boys raised his own phone, shining the camera light in Choo's face. "You can use mine," he said. "Go on, Karin. Happy slap him."
"Bum fight him," another called.
The large girl called Karin gripped Choo's arm tightly. "Do you want to be famous?"
The blow to the side of his head didn't hurt as much as he had expected. Choo had felt harder, but he dropped to the ground and rolled away from Karin's stamping shoe.
"I don't want any trouble," he said, between the hands protecting his face.
The gang cheered. More lights blinked into existence. Phones floated around his face as the gang recorded his humiliation.
He was kicked between the legs. His testicles hadn't descended, but the pain was the same. It was why he wore a protective cup. Choo pretended to be hurt, gripping at his crotch and offering a low moan.
It would be over soon. A few more kicks. A broken tooth, maybe and then he'd be on his way.
Choo slid his hand to his pocket.
Karin grabbed a bottle of White Strike and poured it over his head to the jeers of her friends.
"We'll never get enough hits for this rubbish," a voice said. "Do him proper."
"Cut him up or something."
In Choo's pocket was a can of pepper spray. The cool metal warmed him and he spun on his knees, raising it as he moved. The spray jetted forth with the hiss of a snake.
Karin's mouth opened in surprise and the stinging liquid found a home in her throat. She tried to scream, but the sound was trapped in the heat.
Scrambling upright, Choo loped toward the nearest gang member, a boy of about fourteen, opening the can further. The boy turned, falling into the metal railing with a clang. His forehead split open, blood washing the spray from his eyes. Choo watched him run, stumbling along the walkway to freedom. Panic spread and the remaining gang howled down the path as they left their leader writhing on the cold ground.
The can was still half full and Choo emptied it over Karin's face. As it rattled dry, he cast it aside and retrieved the phone from his sock.
This time they answered. Choo heard an expectant breath coming down the line.
"It's done," he said and leaned against the railings.
His own gang wasn't far away.
Chapter Two
The sun rose over Five Oaks, sending warm rays over the crown of the Dayton family home. The shadow of the house touched the shoreline of a lake and engulfed a gravelled driveway. A small wood of twisted trees was home to foxes who cried ceaselessly throughout the night.
At Five Oaks' entrance were steps leading to double doors.
Daniel insisted they remained locked at all times.
He lay at the edge of the lake, his six foot eight frame barely fitting on a sun lounger. His hazel eyes were closed to the rising sun, but he was not asleep. Thick fingers were twirling a memory stick like a cheerleader with a baton.
A fishing rod was wedged into the shingle by his side. A purple float bobbed on the waves, untroubled by passing fish.
He heard the footsteps behind him, but didn't look up, recognising them immediately.
"Are you fishing again, Daddy?"
Eisha looked more and more like him every day, especially around the eyes. Her long chestnut hair was in a ponytail, her slender frame lengthening into that of a young adult.
He squinted at her, registering her clothing with a raised eyebrow. "I see you're ready for your first day at school."
Eisha was dressed in a fairy costume with tattered wings.
"Did you go to school when you were my age?" she asked.
Sometimes, he thought.
"Everyday." Daniel swung his large legs to the ground and sat up. "I spent a fortune on your school uniform. I'd appreciate it if you wore it."
Eisha's face hardened like quick drying cement. "I don't think I will, thanks."
The last word was spat out and Daniel prepared for another tantrum. "It's a brand new school. It's full of posh kids and they'll be wearing their uniforms. Don't you want to fit in?"
Eisha pulled a pen knife from the folds of her costume and selected a fallen branch from the ground.
Daniel's eyes followed the swish of the blade. "I hid that away for a reason."
Wood shavings spiralled about her feet as Eisha whittled the end of the branch into a point. "Why do you want me to fit in? Do you want me to lie?"
"Because fitting in will make your life easier," Daniel said, shuffling to the edge of the sun lounger. "Now give me that knife."
The look she shot at him was as sharp as her weapon. Daniel's blood grew icy. Eisha's tantrums, if he could call them that, were less frequent these days, but when they arrived, they were twice as fierce.
He held out his hand, unsure if his daughter would see it as a chance to strike.
The fire in her eyes dimmed. Eisha tossed the knife to him and he snatched it from the air.
"And what are you going to do with that stick?" Daniel asked.
Eisha levelled it at him. The branch had been turned into a makeshift spear.
"You know what I'm going to do," she said quietly before shouting into the twisted wood. "Princess."
Eisha's adopted Alsatian dog bounded through the trees. He belonged to Eisha and it had been her duty to name it. They were inseparable and Daniel never worried about Eisha's safety when the Alsatian was around, though he had yet to tell his daughter that Princess was a boy.
The dog's ragged fur was studded with twigs and leaves. He skidded to a halt at Eisha's side, a pink tongue falling from his mouth.
"Fetch," Eisha shouted and hurled the stick into the lake.
Princess followed, surfing through Daniel's fishing line and snapping it in two. The dog paddled into the water, clamping its jaw around the stick. Half-swimming, half-dragging, Princess hauled his prize to the sh
ore.
Daniel reeled in his line, watching the purple float bob ineffectually on the waves.
"You do that again and I'm taking your computer away," he said.
Eisha shrugged. "I only use it because you're too scared to use it yourself." Her eyes went to the memory stick in his grasp. "I know why you won't read those files."
The world knew him as Daniel Dayton, son and heir to a criminal dynasty that controlled the north-east of England. The legacy shaped his existence. It was how he was seen by those he called friends.
But Daniel was living a lie. He wasn't a Dayton at all because on the memory stick were details of his illegal adoption. Daniel had taken it from a man who had been punished for his treachery by his young daughter.
There were folders, hyperlinks, spreadsheets and charts; things Daniel didn't understand, but the name Ranta Mustonen stood out in bold. Daniel had never met him. He was the Finn who had sold Daniel and his brother Scott to strangers - to Ed and Liz - the true heirs to the Dayton legacy.
"Why don't we go have breakfast with Uncle Bear?" Daniel asked.
Eisha nodded in agreement, but made no effort to move. "Do you think they're out there?" she asked, sitting beside him on the lounger. "Our real family, I mean?"
Daniel's birth parents had made no effort to contact him. Perhaps they'd heard of his reputation, believed him to be a force of violence. Perhaps they felt it was too late or maybe they didn't care.
Slipping an arm around his daughter's shoulders, they stared over the lake.
"I think so," Daniel said.
"Why don't we go looking for them?"
"I thought you were happy with the way things are," Daniel said. "We have a family. You have Uncle Bear and Uncle Bronson. You have Princess and I'm sure you'll make friends at your new school."
The last part was a lie, but Daniel had convinced himself it was true.
"Isn't that enough?" he asked.
Eisha patted him on the knee. "I don't mind keeping your secrets, Daddy. If that's what you want."
His arm dropped from her shoulders. "It's not a secret."
"It is if you don't tell anyone." Eisha stood from the lounger and fluffed the hem of her fairy costume. "That's why you won't open the memory stick."
Her anger, her controlling nature, her resentment, thought Daniel, they all came from him, but something else had travelled down the hereditary line. An intelligence he didn't possess. That in itself should have been enough to search for his parents and still he had been unable to do it.
They turned at the sound of further footsteps and watched the ex-wrestler Bear descend the stone steps to join them. In his hand was a school uniform swaying from a clothes hanger.
"I didn't iron this for nothing," he said to Eisha. "Get your breakfast and put on this ridiculous costume. I'm not having those posh kids looking down their snooty noses at you."
Eisha leaned into Daniel's ear. "You're keeping it secret because you want to fit in."
With a giggle, Eisha danced into the arms of Bear, who led her back into Five Oaks.
Daniel scratched his head, watching Princess eat the remains of his daughter's spear. The memory stick was hot in his hand and for a second, he contemplated pitching it into the lake. He'd had the same thought since he'd taken it from the dead man. Every morning, he marched to the lake and stood on the shore, and yet the stick never left his possession.
He began bringing a fishing rod to avoid awkward questions from Bear or Bronson. Daniel never caught a fish because the line was never baited.
Instead, he watched the water, seeing his reflection refracted in the waves.
His daughter was right and it made him nervous.
Chapter Three
Jesmond Primary School was covered in butterflies. They were made of steel and their glass wings split the sunshine into rainbows. Some were mounted on springs so they danced in a vegetable patch tended to by the young students. Others were spray painted onto the tarmac surrounding buildings constructed of eco-friendly material.
Opposite the school was a boarded-up church. Metal grills had been screwed into seventeenth century brickwork, securing the flaking doors from entry. Its stained glass windows were protected behind chipboard. Anti-vandal paint was smeared on the eight foot fencing surrounding the cemetery. The church had been secured against worshippers and blasphemers alike.
Daniel wiped a bead of sweat from his wrinkled brow. He wasn't interested in the church. It was architectural noise to the city he called home. His eyes were trained on his daughter Eisha as she organised a group of her new friends into play.
"That one's called Monty," Bear said, cracking his swollen knuckles. "Father owns a string of bakeries."
Bear had lost a lot of weight since the death of his husband and daughter, but he remained intimidating, as any man would who had witnessed the death of his family. His hair was shaved down to the skull and the muscles of his neck hummed like telephone wires caught in a hurricane.
"Monty is a bit of a dick," Bear said.
"But he comes from money?"
The heat was getting to Daniel and he disliked Monty on sight. He was a marketeer's dream, belonging in a washing powder advert for children with button noses and natural curls. Behind the façade, Daniel imagined Monty whispering honeyed words into his daughter's ear and Eisha being sent to the head mistress as a result.
"They're all money, mate," Bear said. "Why do you think we're paying for private schooling?"
Spring in a city centre was as oppressive as summer anywhere else. Daniel stood outside the school gates, sweat gathering under his clothes. He towered over the other parents. His youthful face was lined, but beguiling enough to draw the stares of several yummy mummies. They watched and whispered behind their hands, speculating on the bulk straining through his white T-shirt.
Eisha was mixing with her school mates, as if the preceding year hadn't happened and she was a normal child.
Money had been an issue, but due to a number of enterprises, Daniel had scraped enough together to pay for private schooling.
"So no more post office raids?" Bear asked, cupping a hand over his mouth.
Daniel studied the children in the playground. "I paid the fees last night. Make sure the crew go to ground. I don't need the school making a connection between me and a recent rise in robberies."
"We've got a tight gang," Bear said. "They won't be happy."
Daniel watched an overweight kid wheezing as he climbed the steps of a slide. He was bigger than Eisha and could cause her trouble in a fight.
"Big Joey Doughnut needs the money," Bear said. "He's saving up for liposuction."
Casting his eyes around the playground, Daniel settled on a group of girls casting furtive glances toward his daughter. "What's their problem?" he whispered to himself.
"The Benjamin girls are trying to get to America," Bear said, "and that doesn't come cheap."
A tall boy brushed past Eisha, too engrossed in his iPhone to notice her.
"And Marky Lean is launching his first scamming website," Bear said.
Daniel watched them all, examining them, assessing them as potential threats. They moved in tribes; the cool kids, the misfits, the nerds. Even at that tender age, they instinctively knew the protection of a gang and the only thing they had in common was the space between them.
Daniel's chest tightened. "Are you sure this was the right place for Eisha?"
"Can you concentrate please?" Bear asked, opening the collar of his shirt. "This is the best place for her."
The bell rang and the playground gang dissolved into lines facing two red doors. Teachers stepped from the school building, marching along the ranks, commanding silence as they inspected school uniforms.
Apparently satisfied, the children were waved inside and they filed through the doors, their footsteps trudging in a rhythm. One child broke formation. It was Eisha who looked over her shoulder, giving her father a thumbs-up sign and a smile.
Daniel swa
llowed the lump in his throat.
After a loaded cough from a teacher, Eisha faced front and followed her schoolmates into the school.
There was a collective sigh from the lingering parents before they scattered, rushing off to jobs, the gym or the arms of their gardener. The road outside the school cleared, except for Daniel and Bear, and a woman Daniel hadn't noticed before.
She was dressed in a dark business suit matching the curves of her body. Blonde hair fell behind her shoulders and her skin was lightly tanned. A designer bag was clutched too tightly to her chest and her eyes never left Daniel's, something few people could manage.
Daniel scanned his surroundings. The schoolyard. The abandoned church. The road. Parked cars. All clear and yet his instincts were rattled. He zoned in on the woman's face. His ability to discern the truth from another's body language was legendary. Those people who knew him avoided Daniel for that very reason. It was a weapon his father had employed to rise to the top.
But it was also the reason Daniel had lived for so long.
He tuned into the woman who was clearly inviting his stare. She was scared. Pinched cheeks. Contracted pupils. Hunched shoulders. Daniel read the micro-signals as easily as a book, but she didn't flinch from his gaze, which told him what he needed to know.
She was scared, but not of him.
Daniel turned to Bear. "We're done with post offices. Why don't you go home?"
"Home?" Bear asked, his eyebrows raised.
"To Five Oaks. My home. Your home, for as long as you want."
"I don't feel like I belong," Bear said.
Daniel watched the mysterious woman from the corner of his eye. "I know, but stay until you do."
Bear waded through the lingering traffic, ignoring the blare of car horns.
"I've been looking for you, Mr Dayton," the woman said, suddenly at Daniel's side.
Her eyes were impossibly blue and for a moment, Daniel disregarded his chattering instincts.
"You knew I'd be here?" he asked.
"Someone told me you'd enrolled your daughter here. How is she settling in?"
"Well," Daniel said. "I think."
"My name is Sophia." She held out her hand. It hovered in the air between them before returning to her handbag. "Can I show you something?"
