him, trying to get his breath.
‘Don’t blink. You’ll have a yellow eyelash,’ Tommy said. ‘I’m in here for rape and murder. The girl in the picture was one of my victims, but she’s going to help get me out of here shortly. It’s up to you whether you see that or not. These pens might be soft, but they’ll still burst your eyeball if they’re pressed hard enough.’
The other boy swallowed. Tommy saw his throat working as he struggled not to cough.
‘Now, I’m not interested in joining your gang or any other. I don’t need them. See, the difference between you and me is that you’re a bully. You want status, attention or whatever. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, so I don’t care what I do to anyone. I don’t have any boundaries. I could happily blind you. I could rape you. I could bite your ugly nose off. Or I could kill you.’ He shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to me.’
He grinned suddenly. ‘Get it? Blind bit of difference?’ He chuckled. ‘I could do any of those things without even blinking. Without batting an eye.’ He laughed again. ‘I’ve got loads more where they came from. Good, eh?’
‘Yes,’ the other boy said hoarsely.
‘So, you stay out of my way and I won’t have to hurt you. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ Tommy sprang up off him and spun around to look down at him, upside-down. ‘And don’t try sneaking up on me. I don’t give second chances.’
The boy blinked and launched into a coughing fit. Tommy stared into the eyes of the lanky blond kid standing in front of him. The confident grin was gone from his lean face. He looked a lot less sure of the situation now. And, to be fair, it could go either of two ways from here, Tommy thought. He could be left alone, or the kid coughing his guts up on the floor could make a play to reassert his dominance. Which would no doubt bring trouble and pain to Tommy’s door, but he was used to both of them. They were almost old friends. ‘Out the way,’ he said. ‘Unless you want some of the same.’
*
Tommy looked up from the book he was reading as the door of his room was opened and one of the wardens leaned in and gave a jerk of his head. ‘You’ve got a visitor, Gayle. Come on.’
Tommy didn’t move. ‘Who is it?’
‘Your solicitor.’
Inwardly relaxing, Tommy closed his book and set it aside, swung his feet off the side of the bed and stood up.
He’d finished his drawing half an hour ago, but it hadn’t done Rosie justice, so he’d screwed it up in a tight ball and thrown it in the bin, stalking out of the common room and heading back here. Now he followed the warder, a large, heavily muscled coloured guy called Adam, back down the corridor, past the common room to one of the small rooms that were used for visiting.
He tried not to show his hesitation as Adam opened the door and stood aside. He hoped the warden had told him the truth about who it was. The last thing he wanted was some surprise, like his dad sitting there, waiting for him.
He stepped forward nonchalantly.
The chair on the far side of the central table was occupied by a man he’d never seen before. Somewhere between his dad and Uncle Colin in age, he was slim with greying dark hair and a three-piece suit.
‘Who are you?’ Tommy asked bluntly.
The man tilted his head. ‘I’m Clive Davis. I’m your solicitor.’
‘Why?’
Davis pursed his lips. ‘You’ve been charged with carrying an offensive weapon. A knife, I understand. We’re going to have to attend court. It’s a charge that can carry a term of confinement.’
‘Prison?’
Tommy heard the door close behind him.
Davis tilted his head again. ‘More like where we are here. You’re only – what – fourteen? You wouldn’t be sent to a conventional prison.’
I’ve lived worse, Tommy thought. This past winter. ‘How long for?’ he asked.
‘It depends on the circumstances. It can be up to four months. Or you could get an official caution or anything between the two.’
‘So, they might just tell me off and let me go?’
Davis pursed his lips. ‘That’s not the way to look at it, but in essence, from a practical point of view, yes. However, it goes on your record, so that if you’re charged again it’ll be taken into account and you will serve time.’
‘OK.’
‘So, tell me how you came to be here.’
Tommy shrugged, spreading his hands. ‘I was just minding my own business, doing my job, and all of a sudden, this guy’s coming after me, so I ran. They caught me and searched me and, next thing I know, they’re charging me for carrying a tool of the job.’
‘A flick-knife.’
‘Well, I’m not going to carry an open blade in my pocket, am I? And penknives can be dangerous. I saw a kid using one once and it folded up on him, got his finger between the blade and the handle. No, thanks. A flick-knife’s much safer.’
‘But illegal.’
‘As a weapon. Mine’s a tool. It’s essential for the job.’
Davis shook his head. ‘It makes no difference why you had it, Thomas. The simple fact is, you shouldn’t have.’
‘What am I supposed to do then? Bite stuff?’
Davis paused. ‘I’m not saying the law is perfect, Thomas, but it is the law and it’s there to be obeyed. Your father’s a police officer, isn’t he?’
‘So?’
Davis sighed. ‘So, a number of questions arise from that fact. We may discuss them at another time, but the point for now is that you ought to appreciate the necessity of rules.’
‘Yeah. They’re made for the rulers. To keep the little guys in line.’ He sat back, arms spread wide. ‘And what am I?’
Davis smiled. ‘A very clever and resourceful young man, evidently. But still one who needs to learn when to fight and when not to.’
Tommy’s lip curled into a sneer. ‘Try living my life. It’s one long fight. Always has been.’
Pete wound up the stop-and-check at just after nine.
‘We’ll take it up again at lunchtime,’ he told the assembled crew when they returned to the cars, parked on a side street just down from Argyll Road, on the opposite side of Pennsylvania. ‘That’ll catch any late-shift workers. Meantime, I’ll get onto communications at Middlemoor and get a couple of signs made up that can be
