‘What did I do?’ James asked. He’d just started enjoying himself.
‘Police car,’ Joanna said. ‘Hide me somewhere.’
James saw a flashing blue light and a couple of cops getting out of a car a few hundred metres down the hill.
‘Are you a runaway or something?’ James asked.
‘Hide me first, questions later.’
James led Joanna up the hill. The policemen were heading in the same direction. They seemed friendly and stopped to chat with a couple of people. James undid the padlock on Cathy’s hut and clambered inside. Joanna slammed the door behind her.
‘What’s going on?’ James asked.
‘Peek outside,’ Joanna said. ‘Tell me what the police are doing.’
James stepped up to the window. ‘I can only see one of them,’ he said. ‘He’s talking to some guy.’
‘What’s he saying?’
‘He’s standing twenty metres away and it’s dark. You expect me to read his lips? … Wait … The guy he’s talking to is pointing at this hut.’
Joanna sounded hysterical. ‘I’m in so much trouble.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m supposed to be sleeping over at my friend’s house, but we came up here instead.’
‘Where’s your friend?’ James asked.
‘She met up with her boyfriend and abandoned me.’
‘But why are the police out searching for you?’
The door of the hut came open and a policeman shone his torch in Joanna’s face.
‘Hello, Daddy,’ Joanna said.
‘You’d better get out here, young lady. I’m driving you home. And as for you …’
The policeman moved the beam of his torch so James’ face lit up.
‘… I don’t know what you and my daughter have been up to, but you’ll stay away from her if you know what’s good for you.’
James watched Joanna’s dad take her to the police car. He didn’t feel like going back outside. He lit the gas lamp, found his packet of Mars bars and poured a glass of unrefrigerated milk.
*
‘I hear you tried to jump Sergeant Ribble’s daughter,’ Cathy said.
She looked smashed.
‘I met her five minutes before her dad turned up,’ James said. ‘We had one little kiss.’
‘So you claim, stud,’ Cathy said.
She pinched James’ cheek and laughed. Nobody had done that to James since he was about five.
‘It’s nice having you kids here,’ Cathy said. ‘Livens the place up.’
‘I thought you didn’t want us,’ James said.
‘It was a shock. But it gets dull here after thirty years.’
‘Why don’t you move on?’
‘I might after you two go,’ Cathy said. ‘Cash in that monster car, travel for a bit. Don’t know what after that. Maybe I’ll try getting a flat and a job. I’m getting too old to keep scratching for a living round here.’
‘What kind of job?’ James asked.
Cathy laughed. ‘God knows. I don’t suppose there’s anyone queuing up to employ fifty-year-old women who last had a job in 1971.’
‘What doing?’ James asked.
‘I worked in the Student Union shop at my university. Met Michael Dunn there. Married him a few years later. Came here. Had a little boy. Got divorced.’
‘You have a son?’ James asked.
‘Had a son,’ Cathy said. ‘He died when he was three months old.’
‘I’m sorry,’ James said.
Cathy looked upset. She dragged out a wicker hamper and found a photo album. She flicked to a picture of a newborn in a white crochet hat.
‘Harmony Dunn,’ Cathy said. ‘That’s my only picture of him. Michael took it the day he was born.’
Seeing Cathy upset about her baby made James think about his mum. He felt a tear well up. He wanted to tell Cathy about his mum dying, but it would be breaking the rules of the mission. Cathy noticed James looked upset and put her arm around him.
‘There’s no need to get upset, Ross. It happened a long time ago.’
‘Your whole life might have been different if he’d lived,’ James said.
‘Maybe,’ Cathy said. ‘You’re a nice boy, Ross, or whatever your real name is.’
‘Thanks,’ James said.
‘I don’t think it’s right the government using kids. You two could get hurt.’
‘It’s our choice,’ James said. ‘Nobody forces us to do it.’
‘Courtney is using Scargill to get to Fire and World, isn’t she?’
James was impressed Cathy had worked it out. It seemed pointless to deny it.
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘All the Dunn family have been good to me, even after I divorced Michael,’ Cathy said. ‘But those two have always been different. They’re definitely up to something.’
‘What makes you sure?’ James asked.
‘I’ve known Fire and World since they were born. There’s something not right about them. A shiver goes up me when they walk into a room.’
33. FREAK
7 a.m. Monday, James’ travel alarm went off to wake him for school. Amy threw a pillow at him when he didn’t turn it off. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing his face, and unpinned a corner of the sheet over the window to let in some light.
‘Can’t you leave it dark?’ Amy moaned from under her covers.
‘I’ve got to go to school.’
James started putting on a sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms.
‘It’s freezing,’ James said.
‘It’s warm under here,’ Amy said smugly. ‘I don’t have to get up for three hours.’
‘I can’t believe you got out of school, it’s not bloody fair.’
Amy giggled under her covers. ‘It’s toasty at Green Brooke. The water in the Jacuzzi is beautiful, and I get a hot shower before and after my shift.’
‘I’m filthy,’ James said. ‘I’m gonna get so much stick from the other kids going to school looking like this.’
‘Put clean clothes on and use some of my deodorant.’
‘I’m wearing clean stuff. I’ll still be covered in mud three steps out the door. Where’s your deodorant?’
‘Down the end of my bed.’
Amy’s deodorant was in a pink can with pictures of butterflies on it. James figured it was better smelling girly than stinking of BO so he gave himself a good blast.
‘I’m glad I don’t have to get up,’ Amy giggled. ‘This bed is really comfortable.’
James noticed Amy’s leg poking out and tickled the sole of her foot. She pulled her leg in and squealed.
‘Serves you right for teasing,’ James said.
Amy flew out of bed, grabbed James around the waist and started tickling under his ribs.
‘No, please,’ James giggled.
James’ legs buckled from laughing. His face was red and spit dribbled down his chin.
‘Beg for mercy, weakling,’ Amy said.
‘No way,’ James spluttered.
James couldn’t wriggle free. Amy unleashed another wave of tickles.
‘Oh no. Please… OK mercy. Stop… Mercy. I SAID MERCY.’
Amy stopped. Cathy’s head poked in from her part of the hut. Her hair was all tangled.
‘What’s going on?’ Cathy asked.
‘Tickling,’ James said, gasping for air.
‘I thought you were dying or something. I was trying to sleep.’
‘I’ve got to go to school,’ James said.
‘Do it quietly, Ross,’ Cathy said. ‘I’m laying in all morning.’
‘Nice life for some,’ James said. ‘Is there anything for my breakfast?’
Cathy thought for a second.
‘There’s cold curry, or you could have the last one of your Mars bars.’
‘Great,’ James said.
Amy had snuggled back into bed and was laughing under her sheets.
*
It was a two-kilometre walk to the school bus stop
in Craddogh. A few older Fort Harmony kids showed James the way. Joanna was at the stop with some friends. James said hello but she ignored him. The village kids wore smart casual clothes. Fort Harmony kids were tramps in comparison.
It was a half-hour ride to school, stopping a few times to pick up more kids. James rested his face against the window and watched the sun rise over the passing countryside.
*
Gwen Morgan school looked better than James’ old school in London. The modern classrooms were in single storey clusters with covered walkways between them. The areas between buildings had flower beds and neatly trimmed grass with Keep Off signs. When the bell rang kids walked to registration. No shoving or fights breaking out. Even the boys’ toilets were clean. James washed as much filth as he could off his face and hands before finding his class. He handed a note to his form teacher and found a desk.
‘This is Ross,’ the teacher announced. ‘Please make him feel welcome here at Gwen Morgan and help him find his way around.’
The kids all looked polite and well behaved. Nobody spoke to James.
First lesson was science. James asked a kid if it was OK to sit next to him. The kid shrugged.
The lesson was dull. They were halfway through a topic, but James was bright enough to pick up what had gone on before and was soon bored. It felt really different to CHERUB where all the kids were clever and the teachers kept you on your toes. He wrote neatly in his new exercise book and homework diary, but it seemed like a waste of time. He would only be here a few weeks.
Between first and second lesson a couple of kids in James’ class called Stuart and Gareth gave him a shove.
‘Wait till break time, hippy boy,’ one of them said.
James wasn’t worried. He’d be able to fight them off if they tried anything.
He got another shove and a punch in the back from Gareth at the start of morning break. James knew he’d become a target if he looked soft, but he didn’t want to end up rolling around the floor fighting on his first day, so he punched Gareth in the face and ran off. He spent the rest of morning break wandering on his own, paranoid that everyone was staring at him like a freak.
Gareth had a tissue plugged up his nose to stop it bleeding for the whole of third period. After lunch James wanted to join the kids playing football on the all weather pitches, but Gareth, Stuart and a couple of their pals were playing. James thought it best to steer clear. He found a quiet spot at the back of the school, sat against the outside wall of a classroom and started doing his homework.
*
James noticed a shadow over his science book and looked up. Gareth and Stuart were standing over him with six friends for back-up. James was furious with himself for letting them get so close without noticing.
‘You killed my nose, Harmony boy,’ Gareth said.
‘I didn’t ask for trouble,’ James said. ‘Leave me alone.’
Gareth laughed. ‘In your dreams.’
‘We hate all you Fort Harmony filth,’ Stuart said. ‘They should send the police up there and set dogs on you.’
James reckoned he could have beaten any two of them, managed to get a few hits in and escape against three or four, but eight against one … No chance.
‘Stand up, hippy,’ Gareth said.
If he stayed on the ground he could roll in a ball to protect himself. Standing would only mean getting knocked back down.
‘Get your arse up,’ Gareth repeated.
‘Piss off,’ James said. ‘Haven’t got the guts to fight me on your own, have you?’
Gareth kicked James in the knee. A few of the others moved closer so there were ten legs circling. James braced himself for pain. Kicks came fast, luckily there were so many legs flying they used a lot of energy hitting each other. James tried to tuck his knees into his chest, but a trainer clamped his stomach to the floor. He kept his legs together to protect his balls and wrapped his arms over his face.
The main beating lasted about a minute. A couple of the kids who weren’t in the surrounding group gave some brutal kicks in the side to finish off.
‘Better learn some respect, hippy,’ Gareth said.
The gang walked off, mocking the way James was groaning in pain on the floor. James couldn’t stop the tears forming, but he was determined not to cry out. His arms and legs were dead from the beating.
James got his books into his backpack and stumbled a couple of metres holding on to the wall before his knee gave out. He sat there until a teacher came to unlock his classroom. He tried to pretend he’d slipped and twisted his ankle, but the teacher could see James was hurting all over. The teacher put his arm around James and helped him hobble to the first-aid room.
*
Mr Crow, the Deputy Headmaster, came into the first-aid room. James was sitting on the edge of a bed in his boxers, holding a cup of orange squash. He had plasters on his legs and arms.
‘Who did this to you, Ross?’ Crow asked.
He was a small, friendly-sounding man with a Welsh accent.
‘I don’t know,’ James said.
‘Were any of them in your class?’
‘No,’ James said.
James thought it was best not to grass. The school wouldn’t expel eight kids. They would only get suspended for a few days. Then all their mates and older brothers would be after James for grassing. His life would be hell. If he didn’t grass and managed to make a few friends to back him up, things might be OK.
‘Ross, I understand it’s your instinct not to tell on your classmates. But this is your first day here and you’ve been seriously assaulted. That is not acceptable. We want to help you.’
‘I’ll be OK,’ James said. ‘It’s no big deal.’
*
By home time, James could walk again, sort of. He was let out of the first-aid room before the bell, giving him a chance to get on the bus without being caught up with everyone else. Joanna climbed on and sat next to him. It was the first good thing that had happened to him all day.
‘What happened to you?’ Joanna asked.
‘What does it look like?’ James said angrily. ‘I got the crap beaten out of me.’
‘Gareth Granger and Stuart Parkwood,’ Joanna said.
‘How did you know?’ James asked.
‘It’s always them. They’re not even tough; it’s just they hang out in a big group and stick up for each other.’
‘I just hope they don’t make it a regular thing,’ James said.
‘You need a bath,’ Joanna said. ‘No chance of that at Fort Harmony.’
‘Have one at my house if you want.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘Working till six. Then he usually goes for a drink.’
‘Your mum?’
‘Lives in Cardiff with my big brothers.’
‘Are they divorced?’ James asked. ‘A few months ago.’
‘What happened after your dad caught you on Friday?’
‘Lost my pocket money, grounded for a fortnight.’
‘Rough,’ James said.
Joanna smiled. ‘It’s so stupid. My dad grounds me, but he’s never home to stop me going out.’
*
Joanna’s house was a little cottage on the edge of Craddogh with frilly net curtains and ornaments everywhere. Joanna flicked on MTV. They ate cheese on toast and drank tea while James’ bath ran.
The soap made his cuts sting, but the hot water soothed his pains and it was nice feeling clean again. Joanna opened the bathroom door and tossed in a clean T-shirt and an old set of her brother’s boxers. She cracked up when she saw James in the huge pair of shorts and a Puma T-shirt almost down to his knees.
Joanna took him into her room.
‘Lie on my bed.’
She peeled off all James’ soggy plasters, wiped his cuts with disinfectant and stuck on new ones. James stared at Joanna’s long hair and the curve of her back as she leant over him. She looked beautiful.
James wanted to kiss her again, but Joanna was
a year older and she’d mentioned a couple of previous boyfriends. He felt like he was in way over his head.
34. SICKIE
It was cold, spitting with rain. Every step back to Fort Harmony was agony for James’ battered legs. He was facing an evening sitting around in a cold hut with no TV. Then he had to spend the night on a crappy mattress listening to Amy snore. Tomorrow he’d probably get beaten up at school.
But James was in the best mood: ninety minutes lying on Joanna’s bed kissing and moaning about their lives. She put on a Red Hot Chilli Peppers CD and they sang all the words out loud. Every time James thought about Joanna he got such a rush nothing else mattered. When he got back to the hut Cathy and Amy were out. He was too excited to eat. James crashed on to his bed and daydreamed about Joanna.
*
‘Are you deaf?’ Sebastian shouted, a few centimetres from the end of James’ bed. ‘I knocked four times. Fire’s got our radio-controlled cars running. Want to try them?’
James turned over. He didn’t want to get up, but it was part of his mission.
James had had a radio-controlled car before his mum died. It was good fun, but it wasn’t safe using it around his flats. Someone would have stolen or smashed it in five minutes. Sebastian and Clark’s cars were superb. They were beach buggies with big rear tyres that sprayed up mud. Instead of batteries there were tiny petrol engines between the rear wheels. Clark stopped his car in front of James and handed him the radio control.
‘Gently,’ Clark said.
‘I’ve driven a car before,’ James said, as if Clark was stupid.
James put the car full on forward. The engine buzzed noisily and a blue plume shot out the exhaust. It didn’t move a millimetre. The wheels dug into the mud.
‘Gently, dingus,’ Clark said.
Sebastian lifted the car. James lightly nudged the stick and the car blasted off at about fifty kilometres an hour.
James laughed out, ‘Cool.’
He drove a big circle, nearly crashing into some trees, running under the Land Cruiser and almost rolling the car on its side as he did a sharp turn to bring the car back near to his feet.
The Recruit Page 20
