Racing Home

Chapter 1

I was rooted in the driver’s seat, my right hand, ready on the ignition key, the other holding the steering wheel tight. In anticipation, I waited for Nick to give me the go-ahead to fire up the engine. He was seated alongside me; his seat slid back as far as possible to accommodate him and the laptop on his legs. As his fingers danced on the keyboard, his eyes were focused on the small screen, analysing the software program that would eventually show us if our project was successful.

“Shoot,” he said. That was his signal to start the engine.

My task was to keep an eye on the speedometer and the rev counter. Nick would notify me when to change gear and how much to force my foot down on the accelerator. Once the Beamer was in gear, the instrument panel didn’t take long to show we were doing 120mph. A quick glimpse at the screen on the laptop confirmed a similar speed reading. I would put my foot down in normal circumstances, pushing this beast to 150 mph, but when the car is on a chassis dyno and the wheels are spinning on rollers. To me, that isn’t normal. It just freaks me out.

“Release the pedal,” Nick yelled. So I could hear his voice over the sound of the roaring six-cylinder engine.

As I released my foot off the accelerator, the engine’s thundering sound dropped to idling speed. I let the vehicle purr softly for a moment while Nick finished off with his calculations on the laptop. Once finished, he made a hand gesture across his throat. Another one of his signals, this one, was to switch off the engine.

“What’s the reading? How’s the engine running?” I asked Nick eagerly.

He didn’t say a word for a moment. With an emotionless expression on his face, he stared at the laptop screen. He turned the device slightly towards me, giving me a better view of the screen. It showed a reading of 242bhp. The graph for the car’s torque and brake horsepower was almost identical.

“How the fuck did you push the mod-chip to that level?” I screamed with joy. Both of us rejoicing, making the car shake.

We both froze when we heard the familiar voice we both knew. “How many times have I told you guy’s to fit the fume extractor onto the exhaust when you test the cars?” Mr Sutherland yelled from across the garage. “I go out for ten minutes to get lunch, and you break every rule in the book!” He marched towards the car, stopping by the passenger side window.

“I’m sorry, Mr Sutherland. I just thought we would get a better reading if the exhaust didn’t have any diversions,” I said before Nick could say anything. “It was my decision. I’m sorry, sir.”

Nick turned the laptop to face Mr Sutherland, our teacher.

Mr Sutherland took a glimpse at the screen. He squinted his eyes as he got closer to read the small numbers. “How the….” He paused. “How did you get the brake horsepower so high?” he curiously asked. He looked at us with a smile from ear to ear.

Nick explained to Mr Sutherland what adjustments he had made to improve the engine’s performance with the mod-chip, giving the car power enhancement. By the time Nick explained everything to our teacher, other students had gathered around to see what we had achieved.

Noticing the commotion by everyone around him, Mr Sutherland yelled, “You better clean up before you guys go home today.” His voice had a tone of authority.

“Yes, sir,” Nick and I replied at the same time.

He sauntered off towards his office, taking a sip of his soft drink as he walked away, checking with other students’. He said to Alan and Eddie as he went past them. As usual, they mumbled to themselves.

“Why do you always have to do that?” Nick said.

“What?” I replied.

“Take the blame when we are both at fault.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I smiled while I cleaned the area behind the car from the exhaust fumes.

We rolled the BMW of the chassis dyno, pushing the car outside. Nick and I were giving the engine a quick check before pulling the bonnet down. That is when Alan and Eddy sneaked up behind us.

“Remind us again, how old is this piece of crap?” Alan chuckled.

“What do you want, Alan?” I attacked back.

“I hope you two are ready for tonight? After the race is over, you’ll be taking that piece of crap to a scrap yard,” Alan said while he looked over at our car as he began to chuckle with his friend Eddy.

Nick and I watched them as they walked back to Alan’s car, both of them still laughing.

Alan drove a BMW 120i M Sport. As he opened the driver’s door, holding it ajar for us to see his most recent purchase. He had mounted a pair of Sparco bucket seats. Nick stepped forward. He was ready to say something to him. I raised my hand, blocking his advance. Alan sneered while he slid into the bucket seat. Eddy, like a snake, slithered into the passenger seat. With a roar of the engine, the 120i M Sport disappeared around the corner.

Finishing off our inspection, we closed the bonnet then climbed into our BMW. Nick got into the driver’s seat, as it was his turn to drive the Beamer today.

“Why is it? When we put a new component on the engine, it’s the day you drive the car?” I asked Nick.

With a smirk on his face, he replied, “You drove it when we tested it.”

“Yes, while the car was motionless. I was doing 120 mph on rollers.”

“At least, the police can’t stop you from speeding,” he smirked. We both started laughing as he fired up the engine.

*****

I have known Nick for two years. I met him at Hatfield University when I was enrolling for the course we are both studying. He was in the queue in front of me. As we were waiting, we got chatting about the university and the subjects. By the end of the first year, we were two of a kind. Our friendship got more vital day by day.

Nick is the same height and built like me. He has golden blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. He’s the brains between us, always helping me with the day to day lessons we are taking and being the group leader in any projects our teachers assign us.

Automotive Engineering is the course we are studying. The first year was learning how a motor engine works, engine performance and aerodynamic structure — the second year, we needed to acquire a motor vehicle. Our project was to make it work more efficiently and enhance its performance. That’s when our Beamer came into our project. We had purchased it together with the first instalment of our student finance funds. We saw the BMW advertised in the Loot. After a thorough inspection and a test drive by both of us, we decided the car was perfect. After negotiating a slightly lower price with the seller, we closed the deal.

*****

“Do you want to crash at my house for a few hours until the race?” Nick asked me with an expression of concern on his face.

“I’m ok, mate, just drive me home,” I quietly said. My eyes focused ahead.

*****

My name is Michael Porter, Mike, to the people who are close to me. I am twenty-one years old, my height is six feet and two inches, and I have a lean body to match my tall frame. The half-hour workout I do every morning helps to keep me in shape. My hair is as black as coal and curly, my eyes are brown, which complements my naturally tanned skin.

I am still living at home with my mother and stepdad, Frank. Frank came into our life when I was fourteen. Two years after, my father lost his life in a work-related accident. It was the worst mistake mum made when she married Frank. My mother received a lump sum of money from dad’s life insurance. She used most of it to purchase the property we live in from Haringey Council. The rest of it was flushed down the toilet by Frank with his business schemes, which never took off. When the money was gone, he tried to re-mortgage the house. He wasn’t too pleased when the bank manager told him that the house was not in my mother’s name.

“The house deeds will go to Michael Porter when he is twenty-five,” the bank manager explained to Frank.

When my mother and Frank got back home from the bank, he beat her. I was at school at the time. When I got home and saw my mother, her left eye was almost closed. I took her in my arms, but the pain all over her body was too much. When I tried to embrace her, she pulled away from me. That is how much pain she felt when you touched her. Frank was in the hallway. I attacked him. He pulled off his belt and thrashed me with it, knocking me on the floor. My mother tried to cover me and received the blows from the thick leather. I was sixteen when that happened. Now it’s primarily verbal abuse towards my mother and me. I’ve tried to intervene, but my mother tolerates him. I think she fears what he will do to us if she throws him out.

*****

“Your stop, buddy,” Nick said as the car came to a halt outside my house.

I looked at him and smiled. “I’ll see you later,” I said. I got out of the car and started making my way to the house.

The beep of the Beamers horn sounded. I turned around to see what Nick wanted.

“Have patience, this time next week. We will be driving through Europe!” Nick yelled.

“With £500 more in our pockets after tonight,” I yelled back. I walked toward the house as he drove off.

When I opened the front door, I could hear Frank’s voice. It was coming from the living room. I tried not to make any noise when I closed the main entrance, but the door hinges’ crackling sound gave me away. I took a deep breath as I stepped into the hallway.

There was silence for a moment.

“Have you decided to come home, you little prick?” It was Frank, yelling from the living room. “Come here, you fucking coward?” he carried on with his verbal abuse.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, reopened them and walked into the living room. Frank was seated on his recliner seat. I say his recliner because no one else is allowed to sit on it. His body stretched out, one leg crossed over the other — his head, resting on his hands, both his elbows, sticking out. His friend Peter was sitting on the sofa opposite. He didn’t say anything, just looked at me and then at my mother, who was standing at the kitchen entrance, leaning on the wall holding a tea towel tight in her hand.

I just looked at Frank for a few seconds. “Good afternoon, Frank,” I said. I turned to Peter. “Pete.” Then I nodded my head. He nodded back. I walked up to my mother and kissed her on the cheek.

“Where’s my kiss,” Frank sarcastically said. As he began to laugh, making a snorting sound.

“Go to your room and get ready for tea, Michael,” mom whispered in my ear.

Frank jumped up off the recliner and leapt towards my mother and me. “What did you say about me, bitch?” he yelled at her. I jumped in front of him. I stood my ground between him and my mother. Our eyes locked, both of us staring at each other. I was ready to go for him if he said anything else about my mother or me.

“I just told Michael to get ready for tea, Frank,” mom said.

I looked away. Dropping my shoulders, I walked away, up to my room. I had lost count of the number of times I walked away from giving him a well-deserved thrashing. I was scared for my mother, what he would do to her when I wasn’t there.

My body was trembling from the anger I had towards Frank. I went straight into the shower, letting the cold water run down my frame. It cooled my body from the heat of the day but mostly calmed my nerves. While getting dressed, my mother knocked on my bedroom door, telling me that dinner was ready. I didn’t answer. I was angry at her for still having that man in the house. She waited a while, but when I didn’t respond, she eventually went back downstairs. I regretted not speaking to her. I grabbed my jacket and got out of the house as fast as I could.

Chapter 2

The walk to the parade of shops at the end of my street would usually take ten minutes. I was there in five. My adrenaline was still high with what occurred a half-hour ago. I dug my hand into my jeans pocket for my smartphone. Retrieving it, I pushed the quick dial button for Nick’s number; it went to voice mail after several rings. I tried again once I was outside Tony’s chip shop. Nick answered on the second ring.

“Hey, what’s up, buddy,” he cheerfully said.

“Nick, don’t go to my house. I’ll be at the chip shop down my street waiting for you.”

“What’s happened this time?” There was a pause in Nick’s voice. “I’ll be there in a half-hour. Have you eaten yet?” he worriedly said.

“No,” I replied.

“Wait for me inside the shop. We’ll grab something to eat when I get there. Got to go, mate, I just got out of the shower, and I’m dripping all over the carpet.” The line went dead.

Tony’s chip shop was jam-packed with customers. I got in line in the queue and patiently waited for my turn to get served. I could see Tony, the proprietor behind the counter, preparing some fillets of fish with batter. His son next to him was getting them and putting them in the deep-fryer. Tony’s wife Mary was at the till serving the customers. Friday was Tony’s most active day, as most Brits would have ‘Fish and Chips’ at the end of the week.

When Tony observed me, he raised both his eyebrows as a hello gesture and smiled. Once it was my turn to get served, Tony swiftly wiped his hands on his apron, then hurried to the counter to take my order.

He placed his hand on Mary’s shoulder and whispered in her ear, “have a break for five minutes, honey.” Seeing me, she smiled. With a kiss on her husband’s cheek, she disappeared into the back of the restaurant for a break.

“Hey, Mike. What will it be today?” Tony said.

“I’ll have a coffee to takeaway. When my friend comes, we’ll order something to eat.” My eyes wouldn’t meet his eyes, something I would do when I was annoyed. He noticed at once that I was upset.

He pushed some numbers on the cash register before he repeated the order. “That will be one coffee and two large fish and chips to eat here. That will be…” He started scratching the side of his head with his index finger. A moment later, he said, “That will be five quid, Mike.” He asked one of the waitresses to prepare a coffee and take it to an empty table she had just cleaned.

I stood there with a twenty-pound note in my hand. Before I could protest, Tony snatched the money out of my hand, replacing it with a fiver and a tenner. Tony then motioned me towards a table behind me. I sat down. Within a couple of minutes, the waitress brought me my hot beverage.

Tony and my father were best friends. Dad would always come and help Tony after work on a busy day. After my father passed away, mom wasn’t too good; she went into a depression. She didn’t have anybody close, like family. Her parents passed away before I was born, and my father was an orphan. Dad had a brother who lived abroad. Mum contacted him, but he was too busy to be concerned with his brother’s funeral. Tony and Mary were there for mum and me. Tony would always ask me if everything was ok at home or if I needed anything for school. I believe mum spoke with Mary about the problems we had at home. She needed someone to talk to.

I didn’t have to wait too long for Nick. On entering the shop, he spotted me straight away. He came over and slid into the seat opposite me. With a concerned look on his face, he said. “Is everything ok, Mike?”

“Everything is good, Nick.” I tried my best to smile, but I wasn’t fooling him.

“Don’t grin at me and pretend everything is ok.” He responded with an annoyed tone in his voice. He looked at me for a moment before he proceeded. “You know there are places your mother can go for help for abused women.”

Before I could answer back, Tony came over with our meals. “Two large fish and chips for you gentlemen,” he said.

We thanked him before he retreated behind the counter, where he carried on with his work. No more was said about what was happening at home. We both buried our faces in our meals. Like always, I finished eating first. Dad always advised me, “Mike, you have to chew your food properly before you swallow it.” With that memory in my mind, I looked at my best friend eating, and I smiled. Once Nick had finished, we reviewed our strategy for the race we had later on in the evening, or should I say, in the early hours of the morning.

It was a four-mile race between two cars. Alan will be driving his vehicle, and Nick is driving our Beamer. Nick and I flicked coins the previous day on who would drive the Beamer. Nick won. Alan had a newer and more powerful BMW, which he customised with Eddy. Ours was an older model with most of the parts restored or replaced with upgraded components. Plus the mod-chip we installed lately. The race was on the A10 at 02:00hrs. At that time there will be no cars on the road. It will start from Cheshunt and end when the first car drives under the Hoddesdon flyover.

Nick began to go over the race details one more time. “The start of the race is at the crossroads between Church Lane and the A10 Great Cambridge Road. The vehicles will start next to each other at the traffic lights. Further down the A10, there is a speed camera. The race starts once you cross the last camera road marking. If the speed camera gets triggered by us going too fast, the race will be a forfeit. If everything goes as planned from the start, the competition ends four miles down the dual-carriageway. The winner is the first car that goes under the Hoddesdon flyover.” When Nick finished, he waited for my response.

I gave him a light punch on the shoulder and said, “Just make sure you have your headlights on.”

“Why?” he asked, with a bewildered look on his face.

“Because the A10 has no street lights. There won’t be any cars in front of you. You will need your beams to get a better view of the road.” I chuckled. “Alan will be too busy gazing at your tail lights.”

We stayed at Tony’s until closing time, which was well after midnight. We drove around for a while before proceeding onto the A10 towards Cheshunt.

We were going to join the others at the King James pub, in the centre of Cheshunt, near the Old Pond. As we drove by the pub, we noticed Alan standing outside next to his car. He was mingling with some locals. His project partner, Eddy, was seated inside the vehicle. His face, inches away from his smartphone. He was in a world of his own. Nick did a swift U-turn, causing the tyres to screech on the tarmac. He pulled over next to Alan’s vehicle. He got his attention and the perception of a crowd of people who appeared from all directions. It didn’t take the masses long to form a gathering around the two Beamers.

“Everyone assumed you weren’t going to show. You know the probability of you winning with that piece of crap,” Alan scornfully said while pointing his index finger towards our car.

“Are we going to do this or stand here and argue all night?” I replied with venom in my voice.

We drove to Hoddesdon flyover on the A10. Alan and Eddy were leading the way; Nick and I were not too far behind, and following us were another twenty or more cars, a convoy of vehicles. These were the spectators or like I would say, ‘eyewitnesses to who wins the race?’ Everyone parked on the hard shoulder under the flyover. Paul, the organiser of the race, explained to Nick and Alan the rules. Once they finished, they prepared themselves to get into their cars to drive back to Cheshunt, where the race would start.

Alan and Eddy exchanged words before Alan started up the engine and shot off like a missile towards the next exit to return to Cheshunt. Eddy stood there, staring at the car’s rear lights as it faded into the night.

I walked up to our car to say good luck to Nick. Before I could speak, he proclaimed, “I can’t do this, Mike. You have to drive the car. You’re a better driver than me.”

I froze. I was speechless.

He got out of the car and held the door open for me to get into the driver’s seat. “Don’t force our baby too much, Mike. The engine is much more powerful now. You have to take it easy,” Nick advised me.

I sat in the driver’s seat as Nick explained to me to watch the oil pressure dial. I didn’t observe half the words he said to me. I was busy preparing myself mentally for the race.

I started the engine, glanced over at Nick, who was standing next to the Beamer.

He made a thumbs-up sign.

I put the car in gear and torpedoed off. I took the same route in which Alan did a few minutes earlier.

When we got to the traffic lights back in Cheshunt, where the race will start. We slowly drove to the signal lights as they were changing from amber to red.

Both cars were side by side, inches away from the white line road marking. Alan and I waited patiently for the lights to go green. I took a quick glimpse at my rear-view mirror. Behind us, a black Range Rover took half of Alan’s lane and half of mine. The driver’s job was to make sure neither one started before the lights changed to green. He gazed at our vehicles’ like an eagle studies its prey. I returned my concentration to what was ahead of me. I waited for the traffic lights to change colour.

When the lights changed to amber then green, they reflected on my car’s bonnet, making my reaction faster. I released the clutch. At the same time, my other foot went down on the accelerator. Both vehicles shot off together at the same time. Alan, somewhat ahead of me. The race hadn’t begun yet. I was in third gear when I went past the speed camera. The Beamer was cruising at 40mph, which was the speed limit. Alan was beside me, doing at a similar speed. I stared at the white speed camera markings, waiting to see the last one. Both cars were getting nearer the final white line. As I drove over it, I floored it. The engine roared, at the same time, the Beamers rear wheels gripped the tarmac.

There was no flash from the speed camera. The race was on.

We both sped down the A10, pushing our cars to see who would go ahead of the other. I was averaging a speed of 130 mph for almost two miles. Alan on the lane next to me was doing at a similar pace. Abruptly, Alan’s Beamer shot off. Within a couple of seconds, he was ten metres ahead of me. I floored it, making the rev counter needle jump nearer to the red mark. The speedometer flew to 150mph. I was closing the gap between the two cars. With a half-mile to go, I passed Alan. A quick glimpse at my instrument panel showed the temperature gauge was as expected, and the oil pressure light was off. I pushed my foot on the accelerator. I wanted to humiliate Alan. Suddenly, the revs dropped dramatically, bringing the cars speed to 130 mph. I wasn’t more than twenty metres away from the flyover when Alan flew past me, going under the flyover first.

The race was over. I’m the one who got humiliated. If I had not pushed the car, maybe this wouldn’t have occurred. Better to win by a small margin than lose.

I pulled over, where Nick was standing. His head was down in defeat. “I told you not to push it, Mike!” he yelled.

Alan paraded in victory around the crowd, receiving remarks from everyone about his car and skilful driving. Once the uproar was over, he made his way towards Nick and me.

With his hand reached out, he said, “I think you guys owe me £500.” He looked at our car and smirked. “I hope you can get your piece of crap started to get it to the scrap yard.” He began to chuckle with the masses of people around him.

With a quick diagnose of the car. We decided that it was ok to drive it back home. On the way, neither of us exchanged conversation. Initially, I would stay around Nicks for the weekend, but I asked him to drive me home. Bringing the car to a halt outside my house, we sat in silence for a few moments.

“You shouldn’t have forced the car that much, Mike. I can’t imagine how much damage it caused the engine?” he said with pain in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I got out of the car.

I shuffled to the front door of the house, not turning around. I heard the engine start. It didn’t sound too good. God knows how much damage I had done.

When I got inside, all the lights were out. Everyone was asleep. I had a sigh of relief. The last thing I needed was a confrontation with Frank. I went straight to my bedroom. Taking off my clothes, I threw them into the laundry basket. Climbing into bed, I tossed and turned, thinking of the race, getting flashbacks of Alan overtaking me. It took me an hour to drift off to sleep.

Chapter 3

My head was much clearer in the morning, even though I only had a few hours of sleep. After having a shower, I felt fully awake and ready to make amends for what transpired the night before. I grasped my smartphone from the bedside cabinet. For a moment, I gazed at the screen. I was floundering in calling Nick. What if he doesn’t want to speak to me? I needed to compose myself on what to say to him. I took a deep breath and sat down on my desk chair before pressing the fast dial button.

After a few rings, he answered. “Hey mate, good morning,” Nick gleefully said. I could barely hear his voice from the noise in the background.

“Good morning, Nick,” I replied, querying why he was so cheerful.

“Mike, it was the ‘Mass Airflow Sensor”, he screamed with delight. “I have been working on the car since seven this morning. I removed the sensor and inspected it. You can’t imagine how much crap I dug out, which was blocking the airflow. I gave it a good clean before re-installing it. Now the car runs fine, but we’ll need to replace the sensor.”

“What about the race? I lost the race?” I responded.

“We’ll get them next time. I’m sorry.” He was speechless for a while. “I overreacted last night.”

I was quiet this time. I thought I had lost my best friend last night.

“Mike, we’re good right,” Nick said, with anxiety in his voice. “Is it ok if I come around your house? We can go together and buy the airflow sensor for the car.”

“That will be good. That will be perfect!” I shouted into my smartphone.

Swivelling the desk chair around to face my laptop, I pressed the power button on the device. I impatiently waited for it to start up. ‘I need to get myself a new laptop when I get my student funding in September,’ I thought to myself while I waited. Once it was ready, I opened Mozilla, guiding the trackpad pointer to the bookmark’s car parts shop. I did a quick search for a mass airflow sensor for our car. When I found the part, it showed in bold red, ‘one in stock’. The price was £129.95.

I checked my wallet to make sure that my debit card was in it. Then I remembered I had exchanged the money I had in my account for Euro for our trip. I checked my bank app on my smartphone to see how much money I had in my bank account. There were only fifty pounds in my savings account. It wasn’t enough for the car part we needed. I pulled the desk drawer open to take one hundred euros from the travel money I had. When I lifted the Europe guidebook, which was on top of the envelope with the money. My eyes widened when I noticed it wasn’t there. I emptied the drawer. Still, there was no envelope. I removed everything from the other drawer’s. The cash was gone.

I turned and stared at the bedroom door for a moment. “Frank!” I yelled as loud as I could.

I was out of my room in a flash and rushed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. I could hear whistling. It was coming from the kitchen. As I entered the kitchen, I knocked a chair aside, which was in my path. Frank was preparing something on the counter. He had his back to me.

“Where is it, Frank?” I yelled.

He paused what he was doing. “Where is what, Mikey?” he sarcastically said.

“My money, Frank? Where is my money?” I could feel the heat on my cheeks from my rage.

He carried on with what he was doing, with his back still turned. “Ask your mother when she gets back. She’s gone shopping. Maybe she took it,” he sneeringly laughed.

I went behind him and clutched his shoulder to turn him around. He swiftly turned and buried his fist into my abdomen. I went down on one knee.

“I took the money, you little shit! Do you think you’re going to stay here for free!” he screamed down at me.

I looked up at him. He was standing over me, inches away. He had his hands rolled into fists. I kept my balance by pressing onto the floor with my left palm. I used it to force myself up as I rushed forward, like an athlete starting a sprint race. I went headfirst into Frank’s gut. He didn’t know what hit him. We both went flying back onto the kitchen table.

I was on top of him, pinning him down. I had my left hand wrapped around his neck. The other hand was up in the air, formed into a fist. “Where is my money, Frank?” I yelled.

He just stared at me.

My fist came crashing into the side of his face. I could see the Fear in his eyes, but still, there was no answer. The second blow came down, striking the side of his nose. There was a crunching sound, followed by a flow of blood. I repeated myself with more anger in my voice, “Where is my fucking money, Frank?”

He struggled to get away, but I held him down. He managed to free himself from my grasp, scrambling out of the kitchen towards the house entrance. I vaulted over the table, pursuing after him, a few strides behind him as he opened the front door. I stormed into his side. We both went toppling onto the front lawn. I tried to clutch him again, but he was booting and pushing me back in a frenzy to get away.

“Come here, you spineless bastard!” I screamed.

Abruptly, I felt someone dragging me back. It was two of my neighbours striving to hold me down from attacking Frank. I shrugged them off, but it was too late. Frank was already halfway down the road. I stood there, clutching my sides as I tried to catch my breath as I watched the coward run away.

A few of the neighbours came out of their houses. Their eyes glued on me. The guys who pulled me off tried to establish what occurred by asking me questions. When I waved them off, they let me be. They both went back to what they were doing in their front gardens.

I didn’t go back inside. I sat on the front doorstep until Nick came. When he arrived, he parked the Beamer in front of the house and got out of the car. Nick made his way towards me. As he approached me, the smile on his face faded away, turning into shock when he saw me.

“Is that your blood on your T-Shirt, Mike?” Nick worriedly said. He sat beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

My chin dropped down to my chest to check my T-shirt. “No, it’s Frank’s blood.” I tried to wipe it off.

“What happened, Mike?”

“He took my money, Nick. He stole my fucking money. When I approached him to give it back, he denied that he had taken it at first. Then he dared to tell me it was for my living expenditure. So I kicked the shit out of him.”

“Wow, where is he….?”

Nick didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence when two police cars pulled over and stopped in the middle of the street. Blue lights were flashing on and off. Frank was in one of the vehicles, in the back seat with two police officers in the front. From the other police car, two officers climbed out of it. They unceremoniously strolled towards the house, stopping a couple of metres in front of us.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” the older officer said. “Which one of you young men is Michael Porter?”

I slowly got up. “That would be me, officer, “I said, the tone of my voice a murmur.

The senior official said, “My name is Sargent Wright.” Indicating to the officer next to him, he continued, “This is Officer Smith.” Who looked not much older than me. Removing a small notepad and a pen out of his pocket, Sargent Wright said, “what happened, son.” I told him briefly, what occurred, as he took notes. Once we finished, he closed the notepad. He took a deep breath before he spoke, “You will need to come with us to the station, Michael.”

I nodded my head.

After removing a pair of handcuffs from his vest pocket, he turned me around and put them on my wrists. “That’s not too tight, is it?” he asked.

I slowly shook my head.

“Is that necessary, Sargent?” Nick protested.

“Don’t worry, Nick. Call my mom and tell her what happened,” I said while being escorted to the police car. Frank sat in the other car with a smirk on his face as he observed what was happening.

Nothing was said by neither of us on the journey to the police station. When we reached our destination, the officer driving was instructed by Sargent Wright to park the vehicle in the station’s courtyard, near the back entrance of the building. I got out of the police car, and I noticed the other vehicle with Frank inside didn’t follow us. Sargent Wright led the way, with me following, while Officer Smith was behind me. After climbing some steps and along a narrow corridor, we arrived at some offices. After seeing the nameplate on the desk with ‘Sargent Wright’ engraved on it, I presumed it was the Sargent’s office. Officer Smith removed the handcuff while Sargent Wright sat behind the desk, most of it covered in files. On the left corner of the table sat a monitor and a keyboard. The Sargent ordered me to take a seat opposite him.

He asked me for my full name, including any middle name, date of birth, and other details he would need to find me on their database. He typed in all the information as he studied the screen. Once he was finished, he sat back and rubbed his neck while staring at the monitor then at me.

“Tea or Coffee, Michael?” he asked.

“Coffee, please, sir,” I responded.

“Two coffees, John,” Sargent Wright said. Officer Smith rushed out of the office to get the beverages.

“I don’t understand, Michael. Polite guy, no criminal record, one year left at university, and you go and do that to your stepdad.” He did some more tapping on the keyboard. I watched him read at whatever was on the screen as his fingers danced more on the keyboard. He turned and looked at me. “On the other hand, I can write a book with your stepdads record.”

Our coffees arrived.

“Sargent Wright looked at his watch. He said to Officer Smith, “John, your shift is over, enjoy the rest of the day.”

“Sargent, if it’s ok, I would like to stay?”

“Close the door behind you while you’re leaving, John.” The Sargent ordered the young officer. Officer Smith didn’t say anything else; he turned and hurried out of the room.

I was alone with Sargent Wright. He waited a minute before he spoke. “What happened, son? I want to know everything.” He took a sip of his hot beverage as he leaned back on his chair.

“Everything?” I said.

“My shift doesn’t finish for another four hours.” He put a small recorder on his desk and pressed the red button. He then leaned back and folded his hands across his chest. “I want to know everything,” he repeated himself.

From the day Frank came into our lives, almost eight years ago, what he did to my mom and me. How terrified my mother was of him. I was frightened of him when I was younger, but no more. I explained to him everything. I mentioned my planned trip with Nick, and when I found that my money was missing. That’s when I lost it and did what I did.

Sargent Wright scratched his chin in deep thought. He leaned forward and took the recorder, pressed the stop button and dropped the device in the desk drawer. For a moment, there was a stillness in the room. He reached back and rubbed his neck like something was irritating him. He finally spoke, “This is what I see happening, Michael. He’s going to try and put you away for grievous bodily harm. Tonight you will need to spend the night here, in a cell. Tomorrow we will see the outcome when he comes, with his solicitor.”

I nodded my head. I never visited a police station, not alone, stayed overnight.

“Have you eaten, son?” Sargent Wright asked.

It was nearly four in the afternoon. Food was the last thing on my agenda. I just shook my head.

Sargent Wright called another officer. He was young as well. The officer took me to the basement of the station, where they held all the prisoners. A buzzer sounded before the large metal door unlocked then finally opened. A long corridor led to all the cells. There was the sound of whistling and shouting coming from the cells ahead. The young officer who escorted me to the basement handed me over to the guard. He took my arm and led me to one of the open cells.

“I hope we won’t get any trouble from you as we get from these lot?” the guard warned me and then half-pushed me inside the cell. There was more whistling and screaming from the inmates.

The buzzer sounded, we both turned towards the main door. “Michael won’t give you any trouble, Gary.” It was Sargent Wright. “Make sure he has something to eat. The lad hasn’t had anything to eat all day.”

“Yes, Sargent,” the guard said. The door to the cell closed behind me.

The room was narrow and long. It had a small metal bed on one wall. The mattress on it wasn’t more than an inch thick. In the far end was a metal lavatory, a washbasin made of metal as well. I dropped in a sitting position on the bed, leaned down and began to sob. I didn’t know what time it was when the door opened. Wiping my eyes with my arms, I looked to see who it was. It was the guard with a tray of food. He smiled and handed it over to me.

After my meal, I lay on the bed. Within seconds I was fast asleep. It was the sound of the lock on the door that woke me up. All groggy, I said to the guard, “Has my mother come to visit me?”

“That’s why I am here, son. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Get washed up and ready.” The guard gestured me towards the washbasin.

When I was ready, the guard took me back upstairs to one of the interrogation rooms. I concluded it was an interrogation room from its layout. It had a table in the middle of the room, all four legs bolted to the concrete floor, with two chairs on either side. I sat on one of the chairs, facing the entrance to the room. Looking around me, I noticed the walls and the ceiling were the same colour. The dull concrete grey you get on pavements slabs.

When the door finally opened, Sargent Wright walked in; close behind him was my mother. I quickly got up and rushed towards her. I embraced her. She hugged me tighter. I could feel her tears on my shoulder as she shivered. The Sargent didn’t say or do anything. He waited for our emotions to subside. When my mother settled down, we took a seat — Sargent Wright and my mother on one side and me opposite them.

“Oh, Michael, what have you done?” My mother sobbed.

“It wasn’t my…” I didn’t finish my sentence when I saw Sargent Wright shaking his head slowly. “What do I do now, mom?” I said.

Mom didn’t say anything. She just looked at me.

Sargent Wright spoke, “I had a word with Frank’s solicitor, Michael. He wants you out of the house, or he’ll take the case to Crown Court. I shouldn’t be saying this to you, but Frank’s got a good solicitor. You might get up to two years in prison.”

“Mum, why don’t you throw him out of the house?” I yelled at my mother.

“Your mother doesn’t want you to go to prison, Michael! The Sargent screamed back at me. “He wants you out of the house, or he’ll crucify you.”

I nodded my head.

I stayed another night at the station. The police officers didn’t mistreat me while I was there, but being locked up in a cell all night is not pleasant.

The next day I was woken up by Sargent Wright. He handed me a coffee. “Get ready. We meet Frank and his solicitor in half-hour,” he said.

An hour later, I was in the same interrogation room I was the day before. This time I had Sargent Wright seated next to me. I felt more comfortable with him by my side.

The door swung open. A police officer entered and stood by the door. Frank walked in, his nose bandaged and his left eye swollen closed. Next to him was his solicitor in a tailored suit. He was swaying a briefcase. The two of them, in synchronisation, sat on the chairs opposite us. Frank stared at me. I stared back at him with one eye closed, deliberately. I could see the rage in his face as it went red. I shuffled in my seat, scrapping the chair’s legs on the concrete surface. The loud screeching sound made Frank push himself back. He almost tumbled over.

Franks solicitor looked at my hands. “Why isn’t he handcuffed to the chair,” he protested.

Sargent Wright stared at me disappointedly. He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his vest pocket. He wrapped one end on his wrist and the other on my wrist. “Are we all happy now, gentlemen?” Sargent Wright said.

“My client will drop the charges if you move out of the house. Rent a flat or maybe a room. If they have you, perhaps you can stay with your friend,” the solicitor demanded.

Sargent Wright gave the solicitor a look of daggers. He responded, “Any more suggestions?”

The solicitor said nothing.

I stared at the solicitor, then at Frank. Frank was busy looking at the tabletop in front of him. I looked back at the solicitor. “Ok,” I said.

Frank’s head snapped upwards. The end of his lips curled up. His solicitor searched for the paperwork in his briefcase for me to sign.

“That is under one condition!” I said.

They both glanced towards me; they waited to see what my demands were.

Staring at Frank, I said each word slowly, “You touch my mother again….” Sargent Wright grabbed my wrist and squeezed it.

The solicitor pushed the papers towards me to sign from a distance. With the signature he wanted, they both got up and left the room. The officer who was standing by the door followed them.

Sargent Wright took off the handcuffs. “Michael, I promise you. I will keep an eye out for your mother. I will arrange for you to collect your belongings tomorrow morning. You will have to stay another night here.”

“Tomorrow’s another day, another life,” I said.

Chapter 4

I woke up the following morning with a stiff neck, and every bone in my body was aching. After some stretching and other morning exercises, I felt much better. That’s when I realised why the beds have a one-inch mattress, or should I say the slab of metal. It’s to make criminals think twice about committing a crime again.

Once I washed up and had a strong cup of coffee and some breakfast, I was ready to go. Officer Smith came to my cell to escort me upstairs to the Sargent Wrights office. By ten o’clock, I was sitting opposite the Sargent. He was sitting behind the desk, tapping away at the keyboard. At first, I didn’t recognise him. He wasn’t in uniform; He wore a polo shirt and a pair of jeans. The outfit made him look ten years younger.

I coughed to get his attention.

He carried on typing, his eyes focused on the monitor. “Don’t worry, I know you are there, Michael,” he said. When he finished, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Now that I’ve finished your report, we can go.”

His office overlooked the station’s small public car park. I was hoping to see my mother’s Mini Copper parked in one of the spaces. “Sargent Wright, I was expecting my mother. I thought she would come to pick me up.”

“I spoke to your mother last night. I told her that I would give you a lift home so that you can get your things.” He walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “I also made it clear to Frank not to be there until late in the evening so that you can spend some time with your mother.”

“You’re off duty. Why are you doing this for me?” I asked.

“Don’t ask too many questions. Let’s say you remind me of someone close to me.” He looked at me for a moment before speaking again. “Come on, son. Let’s go.”

I sat in silence on the drive home, my home until the end of the day. I leaned my head on the window. My eyes focused on the buildings as we went past them. The streets I had walked, most of my teen life. Will I ever see these roads again?

Sargent Wright broke the silence. “Do you have any idea where you’re going to go, Michael?”

Without moving my head of the window, I shrugged my shoulders.

He didn’t say anything else until he parked the car outside my house. “Someone has come to see you before you go.”

It was Nick. He was leaning on the front wing of the Beamer. I didn’t get a chance to climb out of the car; Nick rushed towards me. Mom did the same. She must have been looking out of the window to see when I would arrive. Nick stepped aside, letting mum approach me first. Mom fell into my embrace. She continuously apologised for what had happened. I held her as she cried on my shoulder for a few minutes. Once she calmed down and let me go. I greeted Nick with an embrace too.

Putting his arm over my shoulder, Nick said, “Mike, you can stay around my house as long as you like. I’ve spoken to my parents, and you are welcome to stay in the spare room.”

I could tell he said it from his heart. My eyes became moist. I shook my head slowly. “How much I would love to stay, I can’t. I need to get out of London for some time.”

We all walked to the house. I held mom by the hand as we entered the house. By the staircase sat a brand new duffel bag, stretching at the seams. I stared at it for a moment. I guess all my clothes were in there.

Mom started crying again. “I should have let you pack your clothes. I’m sorry, Michael.”

I put my finger on her lip. “Stop it! It’s not your fault. You are not to blame for any of this. I don’t know how long it will be until I see you again. I don’t want any more crying today.” I looked towards the kitchen while I inhaled the aroma. “What is that lovely smell coming from the kitchen? What are you cooking, mum?”

A smile appeared on her face.

Nick stayed until midday. He was sorry that our plans didn’t work out as we expected. I told him that I would keep in touch with him to keep me updated with his progress with the car and university. He was surprised when I told him that I would be skipping a year or two from my studies. Mum was shocked when I mentioned that I would take a break from university, but I reassured her that I would continue my studies shortly.

Nick got ready to go, as he needed to help his father with some DIY at home. We embraced each other tightly before he made his way to his car.

As Nick got into the car, I called out, “Look after the Beamer!”

With a smile on his face, he shouted, “You mean our Beamer!” He started the engine. It fired up with a roar. I watched our BMW disappear down the road, the sound of the engine fading away.

“I will be back at six this evening to take you to Tottenham Hale Station,” Sargent Wright said. With the keys in his hands, he began to make his way to his car.

Mum and I spent the rest of the day together. She cooked roast beef, which we enjoyed together. I was doing most of the eating while she sat there and stared at me. After the meal, we enjoyed a hot beverage. Mum with her peppermint tea while I had a coffee. Before leaving, I wanted to shower and check my room to see if there was anything else I wanted to take with me. Mum was with me all the time. She sat at the edge of the bed. She watched me as I stuffed the last of my items in my backpack.

Her eyes watered up again. “Look at you all grown up. You are the spitting image of your father,” she said. She began to cry.

Embracing her, I stroked the back of her head. “Don’t worry. Before you know it, I will be back, and everything will be ok.

Once I finished packing, I jumped in the shower while mum went downstairs to prepare a sandwich for me to take with me. When I went downstairs into the kitchen, Sargent Wright was sitting at the table with a hot beverage in front of him. A quick glimpse at the wall clock showed five minutes after six.

“You ready to go, Michael,” Sargent Wright said.

Mum wrapped her arms around my waist. She broke down in tears again as she kissed me on the forehead. Sargent Wright left the room. He grabbed my duffel bag and backpack, which was sitting on the edge of the stairs. He made his way outside to put the items in the car, giving mum and me the extra few minutes of privacy.

Peeling her hand off me, I said, “If there is anything, do not hesitate to call me?” I noted with concern in my voice.

With shaking hands, she unclipped the chain with her crucifix, which was around her neck. With a tremble in her voice, she said, “Jesus will be with you wherever you go.” With her hands stretched out, she clipped the chain around my neck. She then reached out and took the crucifix in her palm, kissing it. “Look out for my boy, lord,” she whispered.

I gave her a kiss on the cheek and another embrace before I made my way to the car.

The drive to Tottenham Hale Station took a half-hour. Sargent Wright drove in silence. His eyes focused on the road while he listened to the latest updates on LBC. He would mumble to himself every few minutes about the comments that the callers made. I watched the buildings as we drove past them. I had a mixture of emotions. ‘What will I do?’ I said to myself. Arriving at our destination, Sargent Wright parked the vehicle in the shopping plaza’s car park. It was a one minute walk to Tottenham Hale Station. You could see it in the distance. Commuters were entering and exiting the National Rail and Underground Station.

“It’s the busiest time of the day. It’s rush hour,” Sargent Wright said.

I didn’t say anything. I had my hand on the door handle, ready to open it.

I could see from the side of my eye. He was looking at me. “What’s your plan, son,” he said.

I shrugged my shoulders, thinking to myself that Nick was right. I could have stayed with his family until I finished university.

Sargent Wright shook his head. It was like he read my mind. “The offer your friend made you was a good one.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe this is for the best. Time will show,” he said, holding the steering wheel with both his hands.

“Thank you for everything, Sargent Wright.” I opened the door to get out of the car.

“Wait a minute.” grabbing my shoulder, he pushed me back on the seat. Retrieving an envelope from the glove compartment, he put it in my hand. “This is something until you get sorted out. It’s £400. It’s from your mother.”

Opening the envelope, I pulled out a bunch of £20 notes. On top of the money, a blue post-it stuck on the top. It had an address written on it. Plus a single train ticket from Tottenham Hale to Birmingham New Street.

“Who is Tim Wright?” I asked.

“He’s my brother. He lives in Birmingham.” He paused for a moment. “I called him last night. He has a cafe. He can do with some help, running it. He lives with his family above the shop. They’ve set up a spare room for you. He’ll be waiting for you at Birmingham Station at ten tonight.”

“Why are you helping me?” I asked for the second time.

He smiled at me. “Get out of here, and don’t forget your bags.” I gave him a firm handshake before I got out of the car. Before closing the door, he shouted. “Stay out of trouble.”

After getting directions for the train to Birmingham, I took the Victoria line to Euston Station. From there, I boarded the National Rail train that will be taking me to my new life.

Chapter 5

It was nine-thirty in the evening when the train pulled into Birmingham New Street Station. I made my way to the station’s upper level, searching for the exit to the car park or drop-off zone. Once upstairs, I froze. I was speechless, lost for words. I dropped my bags to my side as I gazed around at the interior of the station. The architecture of the building was overwhelming. It took me a few minutes to absorb the station’s beautiful architecture before I began to search for the exit. I walked around, finding the exit door for the bus station, another entrance to the taxi office, a row of taxi’s waiting for potential customers. Once the drivers detected me, they called out if I needed a cab. I walked back into the station with a quick turn, wondering where the stations’ pick-up or car park was. As I approached the ticket office, I asked one of the station attendants if the station had a pick-up point.

With a smile, the young lady attendant directed me to the drop-off area. “That’s the drop-off. I guess you can use it to pick someone up as well,” she said with a welcoming smile.

There was a loud crashing sound which made both of us jump. We both turned, focused towards the direction of the noise. A middle-aged man was cursing and bashing the palm of his hand on one of the ticket machines. “Sir, sir, let me help you with that!” the attendant yelled, rushing off towards him. I shook my head as I watched her trying to explain to the man how to use the machine.

I made my way to the drop-off area, which was a two-lane, one-way road. The traffic flowed on the road’s outer side, while cars stopped to pick up passengers on the inner side. It was busy, and it made me wonder how Sargent Wright’s brother would recognise me. During the day, they would probably drop off the same passengers to go to work, then pick them up in the evening. Spotting an empty bench, I dropped my duffel bag and rucksack on it, releasing some of the weight from my shoulders. I watched the vehicles drive past, hoping to see Sargent Wright’s resemblance on any of the drivers’ faces.

Suddenly, the cars stopped moving on the outer lane. I heard a male voice shout, “Michael!” It was a bald man in a red Ford transit van. It didn’t take long for the other drivers to start beeping him.

“Over here!” I yelled.

I grabbed my bags and rushed to the nearest empty parking area ahead. The red transit van pulled into the free space in front of me. Within seconds the bald driver jumped out of it and came around to the passenger side, sliding the side door open. He was a short man, much smaller than Sargent Wright.

“Hi, Michael. I’m Tim Wright,” he said with a smile. He stretched out his hand for a handshake, taking my hand in a firm grip.

“I’m Michael Porter, Mr Wright.” I went to grab my bags to put them in the van, but he clutched them. With a swing of his arm, he tossed the bags in the back of the vehicle.

He drew his eyebrows together, wrinkling the skin on his forehead. “Michael, I don’t want you calling me Mr Wright. Call me Tim. He smiled, patting me on the back. “Come on, let’s go before I get a parking ticket.”

It was a ten-minute drive to Tim’s house. He lived in the South-West of Birmingham, In Edgbaston. Once we reached our destination, he flicked the indicator to turn right. He was gesturing his index finger, pointing at a shop on the right. The sign on the shop said, ‘Hagley Cafe’. “We live above the cafe,” he said. Turning right, he did another sudden right turn, driving through a narrow lane into an open dark yard. Once we were near the parking lot where he would stop, the area automatically lit up by two huge floodlights, making the night into day. “Our security lights, they work on movement sensors. Anything that moves in a radius of 10 yards, the floodlights come on,” he smiled.

It was an immense open space. One side of the yard was the back entrance of the shops that Tim showed me before we turned off the main road. There were cars parked around the yard in numbered parking lots. Tim parked near the back entrance of Hagley Café. Next to the door was a large green wheelie bin. The lid on the container was up in the air from the over-flowing black garbage bags.

He saw me staring at the wheelie bin. He said, “The dustmen come twice a week. They should be collecting the rubbish tomorrow morning.”

“To take out that much rubbish in a few days, you must get very busy?” I said.

“Too busy,” He replied.

I slid the van door open, grabbing my two bags. I threw the duffel bag over my left shoulder and the rucksack in my hand. I followed Tim. We walked towards the exit of the yard, onto the side road, and then left onto the main street. Tim stopped next to the main entrance of Hagley Café. Which had two doors? One had the number 151 and the other 151A.

“The glass door to the left is the cafe. The wooden door is to the flat on the right,” Tim explained as he gestured his hand towards the two doors. Opening the wooden door, Tim led the way up the stairs. “Give the door a hard pull, Michael. It’s a bit stiff,” Tim explained. “Also, I have to remember to go to the locksmith to have an extra set of keys cut tomorrow.” When we got to the top of the stairs, Tim called out, “Barbara, we’re home.”

A woman appeared at the end of the hall. She was wearing a cooking apron; she had her hands crossed across her chest.

“Didn’t I tell you to call me? When you pick up the lad, Tim. So, I can heat the food,” the woman yelled. Standing next to her was a teenage girl, still in her school uniform. Curiosity was written all over the teenager’s face, just staring at me.

“Love you too, honey,” Tim smiled. “Don’t forget who the boss is,” he whispered to me.

She marched towards us, her eyes glued on me. “Welcome to our home, Michael. I’m Barbara, Tim’s wife.” She hugged me, giving me a tight bear hug. I watched the shy teenage girl behind her as she put her hand over her mouth and began to giggle. “Laughing hyena behind me is our daughter, Tina.”

“Mum!” Tina yelled.

Once we exchanged introductions, we made our way to the kitchen, where Barbara began to heat the food while Tina set up the kitchen table. I tried to protest that I had already eaten, but Barbara wouldn’t have it. She insisted that I have something to eat. After our meal, Tina excused herself to go to her room.

Tim showed me the guest room I would be sleeping and a little tour around the property. I was surprised by the condition of the rooms. The exterior of the building was nothing special, but the interior was well maintained. Something that Tim was proud to mention as he showed me each room. Explaining to me how difficult it was to get the wallpaper aligned when he was putting it up. Finishing our tour in the living room, where Barbara was seated on the sofa, watching TV. The moment Tim and I sat down, she was up on her feet, asking what we would like to drink.

“That’s what happens when you work in a café for over twenty years. You think everyone is a customer,” Tim said, earning himself a light slap on the shoulder by his wife.

After a brief chat with Tim and Barbara, I told them about myself. I couldn’t help it by yawning a couple of times in front of them. After all, it was a long and tiring day for me. It didn’t take long for Tim to notice me yawning. He politely excused himself, as he had an early start in the morning, to open the café. I thanked them again for letting me stay in their lovely home before making my way to the guest room.

It was late to unpack my clothes, so I just pulled a pair of shorts and a T-shirt out of the duffel bag. I wanted to have a quick shower before going to bed, but I could hear Tim and Barbara talking in the room next to mine. I didn’t want to intrude, just in case, they came out of their room into the corridor.

“It is the third night in a row. He hasn’t come home. I’m worried about him.” I heard Barbara worriedly say. Her voice could be heard clearly through the wall.

“Honey, he’s eighteen years old. He’s an adult. If we try to tell him not to stay out late, there is a chance he might leave home again,” Tim answered back. I could hear the worried tone in his voice.

“We’re losing him, Tim. We’re losing our son.” I could hear Barbara’s sobs.

After a few minutes of silence, Tim said, “Ok, I’ll try and talk to him when he decides to come home. Hopefully, that will be tomorrow.”

I stood by the window, staring outside. Thinking, “Each household has its problems.”

The guest bedroom was on the backside of the flat, facing the backyard. It was pitch black outside. I could barely see the roof of Tim’s van. Suddenly, the floodlights came on. My eyes scanned the yard to see who had triggered the light sensor. It didn’t take long to find out. I saw a fox’s tail waving in the air. Its head was buried in a black garbage bag, fending for food. After taking a deep breath and a slight shake of my head, I climbed into bed. I lay there on my side, watching the window, waiting for the lights to turn off. I could hear Tim and Barbara speaking. The subject was their son. My eyes slowly began to close as I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 6

“Come on, guys! Put some elbow grease into it. I want to be home by four, having tea with my wife!” It was a deep muscular voice, coming from outside.

I jumped out of bed, disoriented for a moment, wondering where I was. A quick scan of my surroundings brought me back to reality. I grabbed my smartphone, which was next to me, besides my pillow. That is another habit I have; sleeping with my mobile next to me. I pressed the power button, bringing the device to life. It was six in the morning. There wasn’t much light in the room but enough for me to manoeuvre about without knocking into the furniture.

‘Open the curtains,’ I said to myself.

I made my way to the window, where a stream of light flooded through the side of the curtains. Taking the two drapes, one in each hand, I spread them apart. The bright light forced me a step back. Through half-shut eyes, I saw the commotion that woke me up. There was a garbage truck reversed near the wheelie bins. Two dustmen were struggling to pull the large green bin to the back of the lorry, while the driver had half his body stuck out of the driver’s windows, bashing the palm of his hand on the door while screaming at the dustmen, “come on, get a move on.”

“Thanks for the wake-up call,” I said. The driver looked up towards the window as if he heard me, which I doubt he did with all the noise the garbage truck engine was making. He made a head gesture by nodding his head. I nodded back.

Grabbing what I was going to wear, I opened the bedroom door. It was dead quiet. After scanning the corridor, I tried to remember which one of the doors led to the bathroom, as I didn’t want to walk into someone’s bedroom. Bingo, the bathroom was labelled with a small wooden plate hanging on the door, it read, ‘Bathroom’. I rushed into the room. After a shower and a fresh set of clothes, I was ready to go.

By seven, I was in the kitchen. Barbara was over the cooker. She had a spatula in one hand and a saucepan lid in the other. While moving the sausages around with the spatula, she shielded herself with the cover, avoiding the spit of oil caused by the sizzling sausages. Tina was at the kitchen table, dressed up in her school uniform again. She had her head buried in a bowl of cereals. Tina noticed my presence. She stopped what she was doing and looked up at me. The shy innocent look that you give someone you don’t know.

“Good morning, Tina. Your mum is a true warrior, fighting off those sausages,” I said.

“Good morning,” the young teenager replied, with a round of giggles loud enough to get her mother’s attention.

“Good morning, Michael. You’re up nice and early. Sit down breakfast is almost ready,” Barbara gestured with the spatula towards the table.

Once I was seated, it didn’t take Barbara long to slide a plate in front of me or a small mountain of food. The round porcelain plate consisted of two fried eggs, sausages, baked beans, hash brownies and toasts on the side. It was a full English breakfast. I stared at the food for a moment.

“Dig in then, Michael,” Barbara said as she sat down opposite me with two mugs in her hand. “If I remember correctly, it was one sugar in your coffee.” She slid one of the hot beverages next to my plate.

Halfway through my breakfast, I asked Barbara, “Where is Tim?”

“Tim has been up since five this morning. He went downstairs to prepare to open the café.

As I finished off my breakfast, I got up. I said, “I should have gone downstairs to help Tim.”

Another set of stairs took me downstairs to the back of the shop. Once on the ground floor. On the right stood a large emergency exit door, which led to the backyard. On my left was a small corridor that led to the café’s kitchen. I went that way towards the cooking area. Tim and another man in full chefs clothing were preparing food for the waitresses beyond the counter. The two ladies would quickly grab the plates and take them to the waiting customers. Every table in the cafe was packed. All you could hear was clutter from the cutlery on porcelain. I stood there for a moment, watching Tim, waiting for him to see me, to tell me what to do.

A few moments later, he acknowledged me.

“What do I do,” I said, gesturing my arms by spreading them apart.

He gave me a confused look before he came over. “You didn’t have to come down this early,” he said.

“I’m here now. How can I help?”

He looked over my shoulder. “Let’s start with the pot wash.” He gestured me towards a large sink with a pile of greasy plates stacked up on top of each other, which looked like the leaning tower of Pisa. He handed me a rubber apron and showed me how the water spray gun worked and where the washing liquid was. “Between six and nine in the morning, we call it rush-hour. Will you be ok with the washing for today?”

Once I slipped on the yellow rubber apron, I looked more like a fishmonger than the kitchen porter. Grabbing the water spray, I began my challenge to keep up with the waitresses as they dumped the dirty dishes next to the pot wash. The first hour was a losing battle. Once I got into the rhythm, I had control of the situation. The plates kept on coming until after four in the afternoon. With a couple of breaks between the eight hours of work, I was ok. After four, when I took off the yellow apron, the water was dripping off it, but my clothes were dry. Hanging it up next to the pot wash, I looked at the apron. I said, “You and I are going to become best friends.”

Tim called me over and adequately introduced me to his staff. The waitresses who were both from Romania, I already knew their names, Bianca and Roxanna. They were the only two members of the team I had contact with all day. The chef George was near enough the same age as Tim. He was a big man; he was from Liverpool with a strong northern accent. He was in the army as a cook for twenty years. The waitresses called him Mr Grumpy.

After the introductions, Tim showed me around the kitchen. He explained to me how each piece of equipment worked and what its purpose was. He would make sure that I understood clearly the health and safety procedures. While Tim showed me how to use the fire extinguisher and fire blanket properly, Barbara and Tina entered the shop from the main entrance. Tina went straight to one of the empty tables, away from any customers. She dropped her school bag on one of the chairs, then herself on the chair next to it. Pulling some books out of her school bag, she spread them on the table and then sank her head in her homework.

Barbara came over to us; she greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek. Turning to me, she said, “How was your first day, Michael?”

“It was good. I want to thank you for helping me with somewhere to stay and work,” I said with appreciation. “I better get back to my pot wash. The plates are piling up.”

For the next hour until closing time, the flow of work was slow. Tim prepared the minor orders while George made preparations for the next day. When I didn’t have anything to wash, I helped George. By five-thirty, Roxanne turned the sign on the door to show ‘closed’ and locked the door. The tables were given a good clean by Roxanne and me while Bianca mopped the floor. By six on the dot, the girls were finished and ready to go home. They both thanked me for helping them. They also insisted on sharing their tips with me. When I declined, Bianca stuffed the notes in the back of my jeans pocket.

“When a woman gives you money, never refuse it. Because it’s always the opposite, we give them money,” Tim laughed. His comment won him a light slap on the bum by his wife. We all chuckled at Tim’s comment.

As Roxanne was ready to exit the café, she called out, “Here comes the tornado,” making way for a young man to enter the shop. It was the first time I had seen him, but I figured out straight away who it was. It was Jason, Tim and Barbara’s son.

Everyone went quiet, looking in the direction of Jason. Even Tina lifted her head to look over. She, too, turned her attention to her brother.

He greeted everyone coldly. “Mum, Dad, Tina,” He looked at George and nodded his head; he couldn’t greet the waitresses as they were gone. I guess they didn’t want to get court in the middle of the tornado. He then stared at me. “You must be the new pot wash boy.” He grinned.

Before I could say anything, Tim spoke, “Jason, this is Michael. He is our guest. He will be staying with us for a while. Michael will help with the work at the café.”

Jason’s reaction was. “Whatever.” He then walked up to the counter, where his mum was standing. “What is there to eat, mum.”

George put his hand to his mouth, coughing into his fist.

“That’s it, big man, cough into your hand. We don’t want you spreading germs all over the food,” Jason said while staring at George.

“I better get going, boss,” George literately ran out of the café.

After George had closed the door behind him, Tim approached Jason. “Son, you didn’t have to speak to George like that.”

Barbara prepared a plate of food for Jason. He sat down at one of the tables. Tim and Barbara tried to talk to him; with no success, He was too absorbed in the plate in front of him, shuffling the food into his mouth. His sister, Tina, tried to get her brother’s attention. He just ignored her. I watched Jason’s family try to show him love, from a distance, but he ignored them. Once the plate was empty of its contents, Jason went up to his father. They quarrelled for a couple of minutes. When Jason saw he was not getting anywhere with his dad, he approached his mother. Barbara took some money out of her purse, handing it over to Jason.

Jason and my eyes met when his mother was giving him the money.

“You got a problem, pot wash boy,” he yelled at me.

I just stared back at him.

A moment later, he broke the stair, rushing out of the café.

A day that began joyfully for the Wright’s family turned into a miserable day. Barbara and Tina went upstairs while Tim and I finished off in the shop. We got everything ready for the next day. When we went upstairs, not much was said.

I excused myself and went to my room. I phoned my mother as I promised her and also to see how she was. After a long chat with her, I called Nick, as well. He was busy on our car, changing the Air-flow meter. We talked for a while until his mother called him for dinner. I missed my mother and my best friend, Nick. I was confident that I would be seeing them soon.

It was getting near midnight when I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. On my way back to my bedroom, Tina’s bedroom door was open. She was sitting on the floor next to her bed with her head down. Her legs were crossed with pictures of her family spread out in front of her.

I walked up to the entrance of her bedroom, giving the door frame a little tap. “Hey, are you ok,” I said.

She looked up at me. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hey, are you ok,” I said. I sat down by the door with my legs crossed. “Are those pictures of your family?”

She nodded her head.

I leaned forward, putting my hand out, to take one of the pictures. “May I?”

She nodded again.

I picked up one of the pictures. Tina was with her brother, laughing at something, while they looked straight ahead at the camera.

“Your brother is just going through a phase.” I tried to comfort her. “He’ll come around, don’t worry.”

“Do you think so?” She smiled.

I gave her back the picture and then got up. “I’m sure he will,” I tried to reassure her. I left her room, closing the door behind me.

Barbara was by her bedroom door. Her eyes were moist. “Thank you for talking to her,” she whispered.

Chapter 7

As the days became weeks, they then rolled into months. All I knew in this new life was work and sleep. The first salary I received from Tim was one thousand pounds. I saved this in my bank account. The tip money from the waitresses I purchased myself a second-hand MacBook Air. Like clockwork, after work, I rushed to my bedroom, grabbed my apple device and called mum. With Facetime at my disposal, I could talk and view my mother whenever I called her. Nick, I would call twice a week; our main subject was our Beamer. I would then join the Wrights family for dinner. On rare occasions, Jason would join us with his attendance.

I got very close living with the Wrights family, especially Tim, as I was with him for twelve hours a day, working with him in the cafe. Tina, I would help her for an hour with her Maths and English after she finished school. Barbara was always busy with house chores, but she consistently made me feel welcome. Whenever Jason decided to turn up, he still caused havoc for everyone. I would spend my evenings in my room, glued to the MacBook. With two of the top online movie on-demand apps, I had hundreds of films at my disposal.

It was in autumn that I began to start jogging on Sunday, which was my day off. I did my running around the local park, near the cafe. I started with one lap at first. As my stamina got longer, so did the distance I ran. Now I do one lap around the block, just to warm up. I glide past people who walk their dogs or just stroll in the park. I was surprised at how many of them would greet me as I got to know the community.

There are two casinos on Hagley Street, not far from the cafe. They were both on my jogging route. The one furthest away from the restaurant is part of a chain of casinos which is nationwide. The other one, which is two streets from the cafe, is privately owned. I do not mention this because I am a regular visitor to these kinds of establishments. What caught my curiosity was that Jason is always hovering around in the parking lot of the privately-owned casino. I would jog past, and he would be with a crowd of other young men, the same age as him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see he was mixing with a bad company.

I began to jog regularly. Every other day I would run, taking alternative routes every time. I would go past the casino, watching every move Jason and his friends would make. They would lure the clientele of the establishment to take out personal loans.

Jason was a loan shark.

I got friendly with two homeless men in the park: a few pound coins and a hot meal from the cafe loosened up their tongues. I got more details about Jason’s friends or, should I say, colleagues.

“The gang leader is called Shark. Short for a loan shark,” one of the homeless men said.

“Which one is Shark?” I asked.

They just looked at each other before they turned back to look at me.

“It’s dangerous, man. These people are violent. We don’t want them coming knocking on our door,” The other homeless man said.

It didn’t take long to get the information I needed when I dug out of my tracksuit pocket a twenty-pound note.

“The leader is the one with a tattoo sleeve and shaved head,” The same homeless man that spoke earlier said. He snatched the money out of my hand before I could say anything.

They expected a reaction from me, but I just put on my tracksuit hood, got into my start position and began to run towards the casino, hoping to get a better view of Shark.

I wasn’t lucky on this occasion.

Jason was coming home less frequently, making his family more worried. I wanted to get him to speak to him on his own, but I hardly got the chance to see him.

It was late October when I had my opportunity. I was approaching the casino. Jason was sitting on the small wall, which circled the parking lot of the establishment. He was facing the main street. Perfect. It was on my jogging route. I picked up my pace, hoping to get there before he got up and went inside the building or joined his associates.

When I reached him, he had his face down, looking at the pavement.

“Hey Jason, what’s up,” I said, smiling at him.

He looked up, shocked to see me. “Why are you here?” he angrily said.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by his comrades, forming a circle around me. Jason stepped back, but the knee height wall was stopping him. Two of the mob stepped aside, making a gap for their leader. It was Shark. Finally, I had a face to the name. I recognised him from the description I was given by the homeless men. He had a sleeve tattoo, his left arm covered in playing cards, aces, queens, kings, jacks and numbered cards.

Shark stepped forward, shaking his head slowly. When he was close enough to me, he reached into his jacket. He pulled out a switchblade. With a press of a button on the side of its handle, the blade flicked open. He stretched his arm out towards my face. The knife was inches away from my cheek. He almost scraped the edge of the blade along my face.

I didn’t flinch a muscle.

He came close, his lips almost touching my ear. “No one talks to my boys unless they want to borrow money. Do you want a loan, Mr Jogger?” He whispered.

“Oh, he’s nothing, Shark. He’s just the pot wash boy at my dad’s cafe,” Jason said with a chuckle.

Shark turned his attention to Jason. Turning, he pointed the dagger at him. “Who told you to speak!” he screamed at Jason.

Turning back to me, Shark said, “Go and wash some plates, Mr Jogger.” His comrades began to laugh while Jason just stared at me.

I jogged back home.

For the following weeks, I studied every move these loan sharks made. Where they dined, pubs they used, even where some of them lived. They were all locals who lived in council flats. A majority of them were a part of the unemployed in Birmingham. Shark lived in a flat above the casino. When he went out, it would be with one of the company limos. The only place he would walk to was the gym, a five-minute walk from the casino. Even then, he would take a posse of henchmen with him.

With the festive season nearing, there was a sharp change in the weather: the snow and ice is a jogger’s worst nightmare. I needed to register at a gym. George, the chef, recommended the one he was a member of. My luck, it was the gym Shark used.

It was a week before Christmas when I had my second encounter with Shark. I was at the gym, working on my cardio. I was just about breaking a sweat on the treadmill. The large wall mirrors in front of me gave me a view of the gym behind me. George was on the bench press facing my back. He was heaving to lift the bar, which had weights on each side, the size of car tyres.

Shark walked in with four of his henchmen. He spotted me looking his way through the mirror. With a head gesture, he signalled his men. Two of them came towards me, climbing onto the treadmills on either side of me. George noticed them. He heaved hard, landing the weights he was using onto the bench press weight stand. He sat up, his glare ahead.

“Shark wants to know where Jason is?” Henchman on the left said.

I was on a jogging mode on the treadmill. Taking the small towel hanging on the handle, I wiped the sweat off my forehead.

Shark signalled. They began to jog at the same pace as me.

I pressed the manual mode on the machines control panel. I left my finger on the speed button; the treadmill belt went into running mode. The two goons did the same; they tried to keep up with me for five minutes. I was impressed. It was time to work on my inclining. Taking the towel, I gave my face another wipe with it. I programmed the machine to incline, the front of the treadmill started rising. The goons did the same. The one on the left lasted not more than a minute; he pressed the emergency stop button on the machine. The one on the right continued for a couple of more minutes when he eventually pressed the stop button. He began to bring up whatever he had to eat. I carried on for a few more minutes before I stopped the machine.

Jumping off the treadmill belt, I walked past George towards Shark. On the way, I grabbed one of the one-kilo dumbbells.

I stood in front of Shark, my hand wrapped around the weight, ready to use it if I had to.

He grinned at me. “That’s a bit extreme,” he chuckled.

“I don’t like punks waving switchblades in front of my face!” I yelled.

He looked me straight in the eye. I guess he didn’t like being called a punk. “You better watch your back; it’s dangerous out there!” he angrily said. He ordered his goons that they were leaving.

I held the weight in my hand until they exited the gym. When I turned around, George was standing behind me. The ends of his lips curled upwards.

“Is that a smile, George?” I said.

He grunted before he started to make his way to the changing rooms.

The following morning I went with Tim to Birmingham Wholesale Market. Tim had Capital Birmingham playing on the way to the market while he sang along to the tunes. I found this odd. By four-thirty, we were loading the van with our weekly supplies for the shop, which will take us through until we close for Christmas.

“Jason came home last night,” Tim happily said. “He had a small suitcase with him. Hopefully, he’ll stay this time.”

“That’s great, Tim. Is everything ok with him?” I curiously said. I stopped what I was doing for a moment, my mind elsewhere. ‘Yesterday, the people he was working with were looking for him, and today he’s at home.’

“Come on, Michael, pass the box over. Customers will start rolling into the café soon!” Tim yelled.

It didn’t take us long to get back to the shop. Tim reversed the van to the back door of the cafe. We then quickly unloaded the boxes into the shop storeroom. Tim went to the kitchen to help with the preparations while I finished off in the back. Once I finished, I rushed into the kitchen, grabbing a clean pair of latex gloves.

“Good morning, Mike!” George yelled.

I froze, being used to George just nodding his head. Even Roxanne and Bianca were surprised by George’s sudden use of words. They both rushed towards him, as one put the back of her hand to his forehead to take his temperature, while the other took his wrist to check his pause.

George managed to push the waitresses away with incredible difficulty. They would not leave him alone until he greeted them as well.

“Good morning!” George yelled, adding a grunt at the end.

They began to scream like cheerleaders, waving their arms in the air as if their team had just scored a goal.

As the week was coming nearer to the end, everyone was excited as it got nearer to the festive days. Christmas day is on Saturday this year. Tim decided to close the cafe on Thursday, giving everyone Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day off. He even surprised everyone by adding an extra £100 bonus to their salary.

We all had our plans. George was going north to see his family. Roxanne and Bianca were going to London to stay with some friends. The Wrights family was going to London and planning to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day with Sargent Wright’s family. I planned to visit Nick on Christmas Day, spend it with his family. They invited mum as well. Frank always excused himself from a family gathering to spend most of the day at the pub.

When Friday morning came, and everyone was ready to go, Jason decided to stay home. Tim and Barbara tried to convince him to go, but his response was.

“I’m not going to London to get interrogated by my uncle!” He angrily screamed.

Tim and Barbara did not want to leave Jason alone during this time. Tim said, “I’ll call my brother and cancel our visit.” Tina rushed to her bedroom in tears while Barbara chased after her trying to comfort her.

Sinking my shoulders, I said, “I’ll stay with Jason.”

His response was, “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

After convincing Tim and Barbara, by midday, they were ready to go to London. I watched as they left, Tina staring out of the rear window, waving goodbye.

Chapter 8

My first Christmas away from home, and I will be spending it with Jason. The last person I wanted to be during holidays. It was the least I could do for Tim and Barbara after what they’ve done for me. If it wasn’t for them, where would I be today? With their help, I have a roof under my head and some money saved up.

For most of the day, Jason and I avoided each other. The only time I saw him was in the evening. I was pre-heating some lasagne in the microwave when Jason walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, buddy, you want me to put a piece of lasagne in the microwave for you as well,” I said, trying to break the ice between us.

He walked past me, heading straight for the fridge. “First, I’m not your buddy, and second, if I want to make something to eat, I’ll make it myself.”

I lifted both my hands, making a surrender gesture. That’s when the microwave bell dinged; reminding me my food was ready. I casually walked out of the kitchen towards my bedroom with a plate of steaming hot lasagne in one hand and a can of soft drink in the other.

After nine, when I knew Frank would be at the pub. I called mum on Facetime to wish her a Merry Christmas and spend some time with her since I knew she was alone. I promised her that I would try and make it for the New Year. She declared that she would try her best to come to Birmingham, as she had something significant to tell me. I asked her to say it to me, but she insisted that she said it when she came to Birmingham. I said goodnight to her, kissed the tips of my three middle fingers then touched the screen.

She did the same, and then the screen went blank.

Lying on my bed, I wondered what was so important that mum had to tell me in person. Is it about Frank and her? Is she going to ask him to leave? Maybe he’s abusing her again? Reaching over to the side cabinet, I switched off the bedside lamp. The room went into darkness; only a tiny amount of light lit up the room. It came from the window. I looked out at the moon as the thin film of clouds drifted in front of it, making a thin layer of fog. My eyes moistened, making everything blurry as tears rolled down my cheeks. I closed my eye, going into obscurity.

The floodlights to the backyard came on, bringing me out of my light sleep. I was in a dream that I didn’t want to end. I smiled as my father disappeared into a cloud; his voice faded away. “Everything is going to be ok, Michael,” he whispered. Coming back to reality, I jumped out of bed. When I looked out of the window, I sighed when I saw who it was.

It was Jason’s movement that caused the lights to come on. He was standing outside, his smartphone glued to his ear. Through the double-glazed window, I couldn’t hear what was said. I went downstairs to encounter him. The back door to the yard was closed. With my hand, I gave it a firm shove to see if it was locked.

There was sudden crashing noise, which came from the storeroom. “What the fuck, man!” Jason yelled.

“What’s going on, Jason!” He was standing there at the entrance of the room, trying to dial a number on his smartphone

“It’s none of your business. You can’t help me. No one can help me!” Jason spat his words into my face. Pushing me out of the way, he rushed upstairs.

I followed him. Stopping outside his bedroom door, a few seconds after he slammed it closed, leaving me in the passage and him inside his room. I lifted my hand to knock on the door, but I forced it back down. ‘I’ll speak to him in the morning; maybe he’ll have a change of heart on Christmas Day.’ Glancing at my watch, it was after midnight. It was Christmas Day. I went back to my room, getting ready for bed.

I was tossing and turning all night regarding what mum wanted to tell me? Eventually, I fell asleep at three in the morning, only to wake up a few hours later. It was six, two hours before sunrise. I grabbed my Macbook and watched an episode of a new mini-series until seven. What a great way to spend Christmas day. I decided to do some morning workouts. With my face inches away from the carpet while doing my press-ups. A flood of light came through the window, caused by the activation of the floodlights.

“What the fuck now, Jason?” I yelled. “God help you if that is you and not a fox.

When I looked out of the window, it wasn’t a fox that triggered the floodlights to come on. It was Shark with eight of his henchmen. They stood in a horizontal line, facing the back door to the cafe. The Shark stood between his crew, half of them on the left and the others on the side. Opposite them, facing them, was Jason. He had in his hand a piece of wood, which seemed like a cricket bat.

I grabbed my jeans, quickly putting them on. I rushed down the stairs, leaping out into the backyard. Shark was approaching Jason with his favourite toy in his hand. His switchblade. He stopped when he saw me. I stopped between the two of them. My left hand was raised in front of Shark, my fingers inches away from the blade. On my other hand, I stopped Jason from lifting the bat by grabbing his wrist. I held his hand down.

“What’s going on here?” I yelled.

“Jason owes us money. £1000,” Shark yelled back. His men were backing him up.

“I borrowed only £500,” Jason screamed.

The loud sound of police sirens, followed by two police cars entering the backyard, made everyone turn around. Half-dozen police officers leapt out of the vehicles. That many came through the yard entrance as well. Sharks men started running in different directions like bees do when you disturb their beehive. I pushed Jason into the back entrance of the cafe. He disappeared into the darkness. I grabbed the Sharks arm, tightening my grip as much as I could. He dropped the switchblade; I caught it with my other hand. I forced him as well into the cafe. We both went headfirst through the entrance. I kicked the door to close. The emergency handle came up, the door locked.

Shark struggled to free himself. I held him down. “If you carry on, they will hear us,” I whispered in his ear. He relaxed.

I got off him, pushing myself towards the wall opposite. He sat up. We both sat on the cold concrete floor with our legs spread out. Jason was further down the corridor, seated on the ground as well. The three of us stared at the emergency door. We were waiting to see if someone would start banging on it. We could hear the uproar outside. The police searched the area, made some arrests as well. I kept on looking over at Shark. Just in case he tried anything. He was alert too. The difference was, I had the upper hand. I had his switchblade.

It was ten in the morning when the noise subsided outside.

“I think the police are gone,” I said. Shark looked at me, so did Jason. I waited to see Sharks reaction.

“Gone or not. I’m fucked,” Shark said. “I dropped my switchblade when you grabbed my arm. The police probably have it now. It won’t be long until they dust it for fingerprints.” He had a worried look on his face.

I looked at Shark, then at Jason. “Go to my bedroom and bring the grey tracksuit top that is on the bed,” I ordered Jason.

I didn’t need to repeat myself. Jason ran up the stairs. In the process, he slipped twice, causing a loud thumping sound each time. That brought a smile to Sharks face. I rolled my eyes. He got close enough to toss it over to me when he was back with the top, but not too near to Shark.

“You can put this on,” I said. I threw the tracksuit top over to Shark. “With the hood over your head, you can sneak out without anyone recognising you.”

He got up, put it on and threw the hood over his head. He was about to push the emergency door to open. I grabbed his hand while I shook my head. “Better you leave from the front of the shop,” I said. All three of us made our way through the kitchen to the front of the shop. We looked up and down the street for any police officers or patrol cars. There was nothing.

I unlocked the main door to the shop, opened it enough for him to leave. “Jason and I will come to the casino today at midday about his debt,” I said. Taking the switchblade out of my pocket, I put it in Sharks hand. He looked at the knife, nodded his head and disappeared down an alleyway across the street.

Jason went to say something, but I stopped him by raising my hand in a stop gesture. “Be ready to go to the Casino at eleven forty-five,” I said.

Five minutes before midday, we were outside the casino. Two doormen outside the casino blocked the entrance when we were a few feet from the door. The one on the left said, “Christmas Day, gentlemen. We’re closed.

“Call Shark,” I said.

“Christmas Day, he’s not here,” the same doormen said.

“Now. We need to see him,” I insisted.

The other doorman turned to face the door. He forced his finger on his earpiece to hear better before he spoke into the mouthpiece. When he finished, he opened the door and let us inside.

A female waitress was in the lobby to greet us. She escorted us to the bar. She had a smile on her face that would lure a man of God into a house of sin. I scanned the tables around me. The blackjack tables, roulette wheel tables and poker tables were empty from customers. Scattered around the room were employees of the casino, all wearing black suits. I recognised some of the faces from previous encounters. The waitress left us at the bar then disappeared through a coded door at the end of the bar counter. The barman took over. He greeted Jason by his name and me with sir before he offered us drinks. I declined for both of us.

Opposite the bar where we stood, we had the view of a curved staircase leading to the upper floor. The Shark appeared at the top. He began to make his way down. Behind him, a big man puffing on a thick cigar. Following him close behind were two bodyguards.

The Shark approached me. He greeted me with a nod. He then disappeared towards the exit of the casino.

The man with the cigar went behind the bar. He gestured his bodyguards to stand close to Jason and me. The barman stepped back to make way for his boss. The boss took two cognac glasses from under the counter. He poured a double Hennessy Paradis Cognac in each glass.

He took a deep inhale from his cigar. A few seconds later, he released the thick white smoke upwards towards the ceiling. “My nephew told me you saved his neck this morning,” The boss said.

“I did what I had to do,” I replied. He got me off guard. I didn’t know what else to say.

“I like that. ‘I did what I had to do,’ I like you. You have balls,” The boss said. He picked up one of the cognac glasses. He looked at the other glass than at me; I picked up the glass. “Cheers,” he said. He tossed the liquid into his mouth. Before he could put the glass down on the counter, I flung the liquid into my mouth as well.

I felt a burning in my chest. I began to cough.

The boss started to laugh. He laughed so much his face went as red as a beetroot. Suddenly he went quiet. With a series look, he said, “Where is my money.”

I pulled a brown envelope from the inside of my jacket; the bodyguards moved in for the kill. The boss gestured for them to step back.

“There is £700 in the envelope. That should cover Jason’s debt.” I said.

The boss inhaled his cigar hard. He held the smoke there for over a minute. His eyes went red before he blew the smoke out, this time into my face.

I struggled not to cough from the smoke.

The boss snatched the envelope from the counter. “Get out of my casino now!” he screamed.

Jason and I jumped back. The two bodyguards felt the same. You could see the fear on their faces. We rushed out of the casino as fast as we could. The Shark was waiting for us at the exit of the car park.

With his index finger, The Shark poked Jason on his chest. “I don’t want to see you near the casino again. Are we clear?”

“Yes, yes,” Jason cried.

The Shark turned his attention to me. “As for you, Mike, it’s Mike, right.”

“To my friends, but I’ll make an exception this time,” I smiled.

He smiled back and nodded his head.

I nodded back.

Chapter 9

We walked in silence on the way back home. Not a single word was said. Jason was ahead of me, his head down in shame. As we entered the flat, we went up the stairs. He was taking two steps at a time. He stopped once we reached the top. He turned quickly around to face me. I could see he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the words to speak. When he eventually spoke, he said, “I want to thank you for today, and I promise you that I will pay you back every penny.”

“Jason, it wasn’t about the money. I did it for your family. Your dad, mum, Tina,” I took a deep breath. “I did it for all of you. It was the least I could do after what your family did for me.” I pause for a moment. “Hey, look, I’m going to my room for a while. I’m knackered.” I left him standing there as I staggered to my room, totally exhausted. “Try not to get yourself in any trouble while I have a little rest!” I yelled.

I filled up the bath and soaked in hot water for a good half-hour. Once finished and dressed, I headed for the kitchen; I needed to eat before I call mum, as I did not have anything to eat all day. When I went to the kitchen and living room, Jason wasn’t there. Going past his bedroom, I could hear the sound of the TV. I raised my hand to knock on the door to see if he was hungry. I soon changed my mind after what happened the day before with the lasagne.

I couldn’t be bothered to cook anything, so I threw some porridge in the microwave to simmer. I stared at the contents once it was ready in the bowl. “Great. Porridge on Christmas Day,” I muttered. I picked up the tin of hot chocolate, sprinkling some brown powder on top of the porridge, my meal for Christmas Day. “It’s an improvement, at least with some chocolate sprinkled on top.” I smiled at the thought.

Sitting crossed-legged on the bed, with the bowl in my lap, I fired up the MacBook. Turning on the FaceTime app, I dialled mum. It connected at once as if she was waiting beside the device, ready to press the connect button.

“Hi mum, Merry Christmas,” I cheerfully said. I was trying to keep a happy face, even though I was homesick.

“Merry Christmas, Michael.”

Frank was at the pub with his friends. We had the chance to talk for a while. I asked her a couple of times to tell me what was on her mind, but she insisted she would speak to me when she came down on New Year’s Eve. I changed the subject to the happy memories we had when I was young. Within minutes we were joking and laughing as if we didn’t have any problems. Then mum heard some noise behind her. Frank was back. The smile on her face disappeared.

“I have to go, son. We’ll speak tomorrow.” She blew me a kiss before shutting down her device.

I watched my reflection on the glossy screen of the laptop while my eyes became moist. Slamming the screen down to close the MacBook, I pushed it to the edge of the bed. I curled my body into a ball on top of the bed covers, ignoring everything around me, even when Jason knocked on the door. He gave up after a few minutes. I lay there, oblivious to the world.

Knock, knock, knock. “Michael, can you hear me.” It was Jason’s voice again.

I opened my eyes as I felt a shiver go through my spine. Grabbing the side of the bed cover, I threw it over my body. I turned to face the window. It was dark outside; it was night. I must have fallen asleep. I forgot what day it was for a moment. Checking the time on my smartphone, it was past six in the evening.

Knock, Knock. “Michael.”

Jason was starting to annoy me. I rubbed my eyes to wake up fully. “What is it now, Jason!” I screamed.

“Can you open the door, please? I need you for something. It will only take a minute, please,” he begged.

Jumping out of bed, I threw on my bathrobe. “It better be important!” I screamed. There was no one in the hallway when I opened the door. “What the fuck!” Now I was pissed off. I marched past his bedroom. The door was ajar, but no one was inside. I could hear some noise coming from the kitchen, but the food’s aroma attracted me towards the dining room. On entering the room, I took a step back. The dining table was full of plates, with a variety of dishes. Jason was standing beside the table.