Revenge (Love in London #3)

Prologue

The Past

I had never found the taste of blood overly offensive but the blood of an enemy tasted so much sweeter; that salty metallic flavour feeding into your sense of victory.

‘ And you can stop smiling, Kai. You’re nothing but a thug. How will your father feel when he learns about your behaviour?’ Nurse Smith had scolded.

Proud, probably.

I hadn’t said that out loud. Of course not. Nurse Smith was a drippy old bat, but she still had the power to report you to the Head.

And I was right, apart from his initial annoyance that I’d been suspended again for two weeks, my Da had been very proud of what I had done.

And what was that you may ask?

I had annihilated Parker Jennings, the cock of the school single-handedly. Parker aka Dumbo, due to his massive ears, was the tallest, biggest lad at Blackwood Academy and enjoyed throwing his weight around. He was a bottom feeder, preying on those smaller and weaker than himself and walking the halls like he owned them. I’d allowed it for the first few months of his arrival at the school. I wasn’t overly impulsive and had been raised to believe in the phrase fools rush in . So, I had hidden in the shadows, watching, and learning before I finally made my move and challenged the fucker.

And how sensational that had been.

News of the fight had travelled fast between our peers and the atmosphere had been thick with the thirst for blood. And I had, within nine minutes of the match given the crowd exactly that; Parker's blood along with the top part of his ear. I threw that fucker in there as an extra.

The fight had taken place behind the old gym at school, a building that was no longer in use. Most of the windows had been smashed out by kids using rocks as target practice and the entire roof was swallowed by ivy. That shit got everywhere.

At first, only an elite few were aware that I had challenged Parker to pick on someone his own size; but within hours, the entire school knew about it.

The rules were simple; no weapons or punches below the waist and nothing gnarly. When Parker pulled a knife on me at the eight-minute point and broke those rules, I followed suit. Hence the result of the fucker being disfigured for life.

If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime. My late mother’s voice pulsed through my thoughts.

I knew when my father found out there would be no fallout. As I said, my Da was proud that I had taken down the bully. And the fact that I had done it so violently would have him patting me on the back for weeks. I was born in England but my father was from Ireland and he wore his Irish pride like a badge of honour.

We were the Kinlan family, a powerhouse based in London; Irish mafia inhabiting the West End, what more is there to say? That shit didn’t need bells on. The East, South and the North belonged to the other Gangs of London, but no one stepped foot on our patch. Not for the past decade anyway. My father was Gerard Kinlan, a man who had expanded his local Dublin gang into what was now an internationally recognised criminal organisation.

Everyone at school knew who my father was.

On reflection, Parker should have thanked me after that day. There was no way anyone could call him Dumbo now.

As I propped my shoulder against the doorframe, I scanned the crowd attempting to find something or someone worth watching. Fuck me I hated parties of any kind and this one blew big time.

Although I wasn’t punished for biting a guy’s ear off, I was forced to attend this dull-as-shit wedding. So, perversely, I had been sentenced.

Dressing up in an as uncomfortable as fuck suit and playing nice to one of my father’s associates and his new bride sucked dick.

My eyes narrowed as I watched the newly wedded woman swan around the room in her ridiculous dress. She resembled a life-sized version of the toilet roll doll my nan kept in her bathroom.

I had only spoken to her a handful of times; the woman was easy on the eye but not so bright. I found it interesting how my father watched her like a hawk, considering she’d just said her vows that morning to another man.

My mother died in a dubious bus crash a few years ago and Da was supposedly single and had been for the last year.

That was the last time I let my emotions get the best of me. Grief was a messed up, useless feeling. When you lose somebody you love, you think the world should fall into pieces with you but it doesn’t. It keeps ticking along and you are left, standing in the middle, feeling numb and hollow. The bottom of my world had fallen away that day as had my father’s, but eventually, he’d moved on.

And now years later, it’s like she never existed for him. Word had it that he was getting his dick wet with a widow from one of the other families. You had to be careful with shit like that when you moved in our circles; there were rules when it came to relationships and if you made the wrong move on the wrong woman. You paid a price.

Turning to look at Sheridan Quinn, my father’s suspected latest tart, I rolled my eyes. They weren’t together officially; she was purely an outlet for my father to get his end away. The woman also came with baggage; a snot-nosed kid, Andrew, or something. My father couldn’t stand little kids anymore, not enough patience. I pulled my eyes away from where he was sitting on his mother’s knee whilst she flirted with Boyce Calton, a dirty old letch who’d put his dick in anything.

Fuck a duck, I was bored.

People were either drinking, propping up the bar, eating shite buffet food or dancing like a person did when they thought no one was watching.

I scowled as I had never been a people person. People were idiots. I preferred my own company.

Glancing around the hoard of men, women, and their brats, I scrunched my nose in disgust. The entire room had that old money smell and every man there was in it for a power play. A big dick contest where members of our extended family and friends flaunted their wealth and extravagance. All of which had been accumulated through questionable means. The guests swanning around before me were no better than common criminals so why try and dress that fucker up?

That stifling smell of flowers was almost choking; there were far too many scattered around the hall. It looked borderline ridiculous; like a florist threw up in there.

Thankfully I had managed to get out of the church ceremony and had just been dragged along to the after party.

The wedding reception was being held locally in the main hall of Queen Mary’s Primary School where me and my friends used to go; during those days when I’d had some. Once I moved up to High School and started Blackwood Academy; my contacts in that neighbourhood dwindled.

Now there was only one person I liked enough to call my friend; Nico Rossi, he was half-Italian but I didn’t hold that against him. We’d met at the Academy and although we got off on the wrong foot, we were now as thick as thieves. And I mean that in every sense. We were both born into criminal families so stealing was a given.

Unfortunately, Nico was still at school and so I was stuck at the wedding alone, having been shoved into a suit that was as scratchy as fuck against my skin. I looked like a cunt, there was no other word to describe it. If Nico could see me now, he’d be laughing his arse off which would probably tempt me to knock the twat out. I had a temper, what could I say?

Slipping my finger into my shirt collar, I tugged the material away from my neck. Wearing a tie felt like torture. Da said that I had to get used to wearing fancy shit. The right clothes earned you respect; whatever the fuck that meant. I felt like a fucking circus clown. The one I was currently wearing had to be specially made; I was fifteen, almost sixteen but tall and broad for my age. Old Sean, one of my father’s men, said I’d be bigger than him one day. Sean was over six feet with shoulders the size of a fucking car. I sure hoped so; strength made people cower.

I hated any social function, especially ones where I had to dress up like a monkey on display, ready to perform on cue. I sure wished I’d stayed the fuck home today.

Scanning the crowd of guests, I smiled at all the aspiring gangsters my age, falling short of what was expected. They were just boys, punks trying to look tough.

The afternoon was bleeding into the evening and you could see those sad cases that had come without a plus one; all eyeing up what was left; the dregs of who was the best to go home with at the night's end.

No one was there to pay their respects. It was all about the free bar and food, fucking freeloaders.

I checked the time on my phone before sliding it back into my jacket. Mob weddings went one of two ways, they usually ended up as messy as hell or, as messy as hell. Someone would always start a fight towards the end of the evening, usually over pussy. I intended to be long gone before any drama kicked off, I just couldn’t be bothered with it.

A noise erupted in the corridor behind me and I dragged my eyes away from the crowds of people dancing. As far as disco’s went, this one sucked arse. There weren’t even any decent sets of titties to stare at. The girls there were all covered up, mainly because they were mafia princesses and their daddies were close. A woman’s existence in the mafia was as dated as fuck; they were like second-class citizens. Bred purely to be married off as a business arrangement; it was always about building power and making connections. No one seemed to give a shit that women had feelings.

I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Generally, women were the weaker sex and the need to protect those less fortunate had powered through me since puberty; it was the way I had been raised. My late mother had brought me up to respect the female of the species as did my father, to a certain extent. I still enjoyed eyeing up a decent rack, if I knew I could get away with it, but I didn’t treat girls like shit.

Shouts and jeers; juvenile voices bled down the corridor behind me.

What the fuck?

Pushing off the door frame, I turned into the corridor. I still knew my way around; to the left were the toilets and exit, and to the right was the old gym. The voices were coming from there.

The noise of laughter increased and my pulse raced at the thought of unearthing something interesting. Anything to make my day more exciting. I was bored to fucking tears and I’d only been there an hour. I’d spent most of that afternoon on WhatsApp with Nico and the other scrolling through shite on TikTok.

As I made my way towards the noise, I glanced around, there were artwork displays, showing primary-aged kids’ work; finger paintings and shit like that. One picture caught my eye, a painting titled ‘My Family’ and I found it amusing that the father of that family appeared to have three arms and one leg; interesting. There was also some graffiti defacing a pastel image; Barbara takes it up the arse . Good for Barbara.

Apart from the scuffling around the corner, the only other sound was the brogues I’d been forced to wear clicking as I walked. The whole area smelt as musty as fuck.

As I came to the edge of the corridor, my thirst for drama dried up as I saw through the crack in the doors to the gym. It was just a bunch of kids fucking with each other. Boring.

Girls and boys between seven and ten were laughing and jeering and just pissing about; like little kids do. Great. My spirits sank and I turned away. It was time to go back to my previous non-activity of leaning and people-watching.

“I’ve heard that she doesn’t even know who her daddy is,” a girl's shrill voice filtered from behind me. I didn’t stop walking, why would I?

“Tommy told me that he’s a greaser who ran away when he knocked up her mom.”

More bouts of laughter ensued and I paused, torn between carrying on doing fuck all or getting involved in whatever the little shits in that gym were doing.

“That’s why her hair is so greasy,” a girl barked with a giggle. Kids could be so fucking cruel.

“I don’t know why you are being so mean Tasha, aren’t we sisters now?” Although faint, that had to be the sweetest voice I’d ever heard.

“Sisters? You’ll never be my sister. You’re trash just like your mom. Daddy only wants her so he can have sex. You’re not true mafioso and you never will be.”

Sibling rivalry. Fuck that shit. I couldn’t be arsed with that and so I turned and moved away.

The next words were too quiet to hear, so I resumed my earlier position in the main hall's doorway.

The music had gotten louder and the dance floor was flooded with guests. The school's large stage was at the front and the live band was set up there, playing their instruments like their lives depended on it. The huge velvet curtains which were open had seen better days.

Kids were in clusters between the adults, dancing or running around and sliding across the floor on their knees. There were couples dotted around either making out or arguing. Tables with glasses and beer cans and dirty pots from the leftover buffet were littered all over, and balloons were everywhere . I would guestimate there were around four hundred guests in that small space, overcrowded and loud aka chaos.

I hated chaos. I was a boy who always needed to be in control.

Scanning the crowd for my Da, I saw him standing with his men, talking to the bride; Susie or something like that. I couldn’t remember. Considering it was her wedding day and she had married an associate of my father’s; they were standing extremely closely together. The new Mrs Alasdair Wilkinson was laughing at something my Da, had said which must have been hilarious. That was a first. My father had little to no sense of humour. Being the head of any mafia family, you rarely found things to laugh about. The woman kept touching his chest and hung on every word, which I couldn’t hear due to being so far away. That and the volume of the shit music. Give me some Metallica any day.

Men and women started gyrating in front of me as a smoochy song came on. Fuck me, I hated slow songs when girls expected you to dance with them and hold them close. I’d been to a few parties where I’d had women all over me, wanting me to pull them against my body. I didn’t have a problem with girls, of course not. I lost my virginity to Sandy Newton last year and enjoyed sex as much as the next guy, but I didn’t do slushy shit. I also didn’t obsess about fucking like Nico did. If I needed to get off, I sorted myself out.

I noticed Hamish, one of my father’s men, attempting to hit on a skinny redhead and I checked my watch. How much longer would I have to stay? I could easily take the Tube home without my father or his men. But I knew that wouldn’t be allowed. The streets of London were too dangerous for people like me and I wasn’t to go anywhere without Oscar, my bodyguard. He was at the party and I knew he’d be watching me from somewhere. The guy was talented, committed and a pro at blending.

Time to get shitfaced.

I withdrew one of my father’s hipflasks from the inside pocket of my jacket and took a nip. The Irish whisky was welcome as it burned the back of my throat. As I lowered the flask, I almost dropped it as someone rushed past me. It took me by surprise, I’m not going to lie. But as I glanced down to try and establish who it was, they had already taken off across the hall, pushing through the swaying guests.

It was a girl. She was small and thin, with long dark brown hair rippling down her back in waves. I pushed off the frame and stood in the door, straining to see where she was going.

And then it happened, everything seemed to go in slow motion, the sound of the music bleeding into the background as the girl turned and glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes met mine and locked on.

A rush of adrenaline shot through my chest like a bullet; a mixture of unrecognisable emotions crashed through me.

What the fuck?

The girl was such a sweet little thing; even with her eyes so wide and fearful. She had been crying, her face was streaked where the tears had fallen. Her nose was small and button-like and her lips were drawn with worry; I noted how she caught the bottom one between her teeth. As I glanced down her waif-like body, I noticed she was dressed like a bridesmaid and then I saw her knees. They were bleeding, the white tights she wore ripped and a shot of aggression pumped through my veins. She couldn’t have been more than seven and my protective side kicked in.

I smiled warmly, not wanting her to think me a weirdo and she gave me a small grin in return, before moving away.

I knew she was the girl from the gym. The one who had been called trash. Why the fuck would anyone say that about someone so young and helpless looking.

I watched as she scurried towards the stage before casting a worried glance behind where I was standing. The stage was covered by a silk valance, so you couldn’t see beneath it. The girl peeled back the curtain and crawled under there without turning back again. She was hiding.

Taking another hit of the whisky, I slid the flask back into my pocket and rolled my shoulders, from my position in the doorway, I was a barricade.

As expected, there was a commotion in the corridor as the group of kids that had no doubt been terrorising the girl came looking for her. I plastered an ‘I couldn’t care less look’ on my face, leaning my shoulder against the frame and waiting.

A group of six kids, four girls and two boys all bigger than their target appeared, all laughing and sneering. I immediately recognised Rory Whittaker, he was ten years old and the younger brother of Ricky; a lad I used to fight with when I came home during the holidays from school; the Academy being a boarding school.

As they approached me, Rory’s expression was wary and so it should have been. I should smack them all over the head, for ganging up on one little girl. Fucking pussies.

“Sup, Kai. You see a scrotty girl come down here?” Rory said, having the balls to ask me that question.

I shrugged, “Why do you want to know?”

The girls exchanged glances and the other boy who was thin and tall with loads of zits tried to see behind me into the hall. Up close he was older than I’d first assumed; maybe thirteen or fourteen. At that age, he should have known better.

“She stole my wallet,” he piped up. His voice was at that stage when it started to break from boy to man. Yeah well, fuck the voice. They both had some growing up to do if they were picking on a child; and a bloody girl to boot.

I narrowed my eyes as I knew he was lying.

Making my choice, I flicked my head as if I believed them and then pointed down the corridor towards the toilets.

“She went down there,” I explained with a nod in that direction.

“Cool,” he replied, his eyes flaring in his huge melon-shaped head.

Sniffing, I raised an eyebrow, “Do I get a reward for my assistance?”

The boys did a double take at each other, then glanced back to me, “Err, yeah. OK.”

The girls were then all smiles and looked around the ten mark which still put them much older than their victim. My blood started to boil but I managed to keep my hands fisted by my sides.

Rory grinned at me like we had suddenly become the best of mates. Fuck that shit. I wasn’t friends with bullies.

“Thanks, man,” he said, handing me a fiver.

“Don’t mention it,” I replied with a fake smile, pocketing my reward. I broke off the staring contest, my way of saying he was dismissed.

They then set off down the corridor in search of their prey.

Once they disappeared, I made my choice.

I wasn’t the hero. I would always be the villain; it was a badge I felt honoured to wear.

But, as with most roles in life; everyone needed to take a break occasionally and I decided to take mine that day. I would reach out to the wide-eyed girl with the long dark hair and do something right for a change.

She was beaten and broken and needed a friend.

And for that one day and one day only, I would be just that.

Her friend.

*****

I didn’t understand why Mummy would marry a man with such a mean child. I had tried so many times to be Tasha’s friend but she still hated me. I had even started giving her my pudding after supper, hoping to win her friendship but it wasn’t working. Mummy said she was jealous of me because I was thin and Tasha was chubby with a fat face. I didn’t get why that would matter.

My knees were stinging and I was scared; scared of anyone seeing them. They would want to know how I had torn my tights. I wasn’t a telltale and if I told on Tasha, she would make it so much worse for me.

Wiping my eyes, I pushed back against the wall under the stage. I had seen some kids my age playing under there earlier, making a den. When I asked if I could help, they laughed at me. Then Tasha and her friends followed me out and into the gym. I just wanted to be by myself, I didn’t like big parties. I felt so lonely. Mummy always ignored me when there were handsome misters around.

My real Daddy left us to buy some milk around three years ago and he still wasn’t back. My nanny nicknamed him the Sperm Donor whatever that meant. Mummy said he may never come back, and that’s why I needed a new one. The last one hadn’t lasted very long, only a few months, but I was glad as his kids were even worse than Tasha.

I didn’t remember my real Daddy, but I knew his hair and skin were like mine. Mummy was blonde with pale white skin but I had her grey eyes; my uncle Graham said.

“Is there room for one more?” a voice suddenly sounded from the other end of the stage, the very place I had crawled in from.

It was dark but I could faintly see the shape of a boy. He was dressed in a suit and was crouched low so his head didn’t hit the stage above us.

Another crumby song started playing and the space above me rattled with the sound.

Crossing my legs, I put my hand to my brow and tried to see him more clearly. I felt a flash of fear in case he was there to take me back to the others.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not here to hurt you,” the voice said. It was louder that time and so I knew he’d moved closer.

Shuffling forward to get a better view, I shoved away some crisp wrappers and a mouldy apple core that must have been kicked under there ages ago. There was also a banana peel that had turned brown; so gross.

I kept my mouth shut as the boy came into view and shuffled beside me.

“I saw you come under here and wanted to check it out. You’re brave. Aren’t you scared of monsters?”

Taking a big swallow, I turned towards him. He had now pushed his back against the pillar I was resting against. It must have supported the stage. There were loads of them under there. The boy's legs were stretched out and I did the same. It was more comfortable in that position. When I had crossed them, the skin on my scuffed knees stung.

The lights from the disco must have started at that point and light flickered under the stage area sinking through the material that curtained us in there.

And that’s when I saw him properly.

It was the boy from the doorway. He was beautiful , like an angel. He must have been a teenager as he was so much bigger than me and his boyish face was handsome. I didn’t like boys usually; they were smelly and always picked on me but this one seemed different.

Mummy always said I was a good judge of character.

His eyes met mine. They were dark in colour with slight creases at the side from the smile he was wearing. It made me feel warm inside, it was such a friendly face and friendly was something I rarely got from my Mummy’s friends and their kids.

“Well?” he said, but I continued to drink him in. “You know it’s rude to stare.”

His words shook me out of my daydream. “Sorry,” I said, pulling away and looking down into my lap.

“I’m kidding. You can look all you want. I don’t bite.”

His reply made me grin and I looked back. We were side by side beneath the stage, our backs against the pillar but it didn’t feel weird. I didn’t know this boy but his appearance made me feel nice and safe.

“Did someone hurt you?” he said, pointing to my knees.

My nose scrunched. “Why would I tell you? You’re a stranger.”

I heard his chuckle but I kept my face forward.

He shrugged, his shoulders brushing against mine. “I suppose I am. So, let’s get to know each other and then, I won’t be a stranger.”

Shuffling around, I moved to see him better without hurting my neck. “OK, that sounds like a good idea. I’m Boo,” I said, raising my hand so he could shake it. That’s what Mummy had taught me to do when meeting my future daddies. I gave him my nickname on purpose. It was funny that the boy had spoken of monsters, as my nickname was taken from a character in my favourite cartoon, Monsters Inc. Mummy said I had to be careful who I gave my real name to. We were again marrying into another important family and important families had enemies.

“Pleased to meet you, Boo. You can call me K,” the boy said, taking my small hand and giving it a shake. K?

My grin widened as he released my cold fingers from his warm ones.

K was an odd name but it suited him. I was almost eight and wasn’t stupid; he probably didn’t want to give me his real name so I didn’t tell other people I knew him. I doubted it was for the same reason as me.

“So, you didn’t answer my first question,” K said gently, nudging his shoulder into mine as we both looked forward. You could see the shadows of people's feet as they danced beyond the material that fell from the stage.

“And I’m not going to. I fell and that’s all there is to it,” I sniffed, rubbing my hand across my nose.

“I don’t mean that one. I mean my question about monsters. Aren’t you scared of them?”

My shoulders slumped. “There are worse things out there than monsters,” I replied, glancing at him. His face was relaxed as he took in my words.

“Like what?”

I sniffed again, “People.”

My answer made him shift and turn towards me so we faced each other. He looked uncomfortable, scrunched up under the stage, he was so much bigger than me. I fit under there much better.

“You’re not wrong there,” he chuckled.

K was smiling at me. It was warm and real, not fake like the ones the other kids gave me at school. Mummy had said my new Daddy had promised I would be home-schooled with Tasha. At first, I’d been excited but after what had happened at the wedding, I’d changed my mind. Tasha was mean and would pick on me whenever she got the chance. Maybe going back to school was safer.

I sighed, feeling the most chilled I had felt all day. K leaned over and pushed some of my hair behind my ear; his fingers were soft, gentle, and friendly. Not like one of my Mummy’s new friends; a man who pulled me onto his lap and bounced me up and down on his knee like I was a baby. His hands were rough against my skin. It made me feel nasty being sat there but Mummy didn’t notice. She called him Gerry and I thought he was horrible.

“So those kids you were running from, I guessed they’re not your friends,” K said, his eyes searching my face.

“No. I don’t have any friends,” I said truthfully.

K grinned, showing his straight white teeth, “Me neither. It’s easier on your own.”

“I agree it is easier, but being by yourself gets lonely. I don’t want to be alone forever. One day I will get married. And then I will have my happy ever after. Just like the girls do in the books my mummy reads to me.”

“And who would be your hero? Prince Charming by any chance?”

“No, Ron Weasley,” I replied with a grin. K’s face lit up in understanding.

“Ah, from Harry Potter.”

“Yes.”

“Well. I’m sure you’ll get your happy ending one day.” K reassured me.

Then there was silence between us as we sat under the stage, two semi-strangers sharing a quiet moment, and it felt good. I wasn’t afraid, it was like that rule of always being on my best behaviour didn’t exist under there.

“You don’t have to worry about the bullies you know. They don’t know where you are. I sent them away.”

“You did?”

“Yes, I saw you slip under here and I covered for you. That’s what friends do. Watch each other’s backs.”

So, as well as keeping me company, K had saved me. “Thank you for doing that. I wish I had a present to give you.”

“All I need is your smile. That’s enough of a gift.”

His words made me feel special.

“Want to hear my idea?” K suddenly said.

“Sure.”

“Are you hungry?”

My tummy growled at the words, and our eyes dropped to my stomach and back. I giggled, feeling silly and K squinted as he shared the joke. My tummy had answered for me.

K pushed up into a squat, bending his head so it didn’t hit the stage floor and he said, “I’ll go get us some food and we can have a secret feast, just you and me here in our den, what do you think?”

I nodded my head so hard it hurt. I felt a burst of excitement that we had a den.

“What type of goodies do you fancy?” he asked.

Pursing my lips I thought about all the nice foods I had seen spread on the buffet table.

“There’s these pink things with frosting on the top; they looked delicious,” I said, licking my lips. We never kept sweet stuff at the house as mummy said they made you fat.

K dashed his knuckles across his nose before saying, “Pink things with frosting? Got it. How about I bring a plate of cakes? I’m a sweet tooth myself.”

“OK. Thank you.” Oh, what a treat.

As K scooted back the way we both came in, I watched him go with hope in my belly. I wondered if he’d come back at all. Maybe this was all a trick and he would tell Tasha and those meanies where I was?

But that wasn’t what happened. K did come back and what a feast he brought with him. There were cakes of all different colours and shapes and two cans of pop. I wasn’t allowed fizzy drinks as Mummy said they made your teeth rot so that was an added treat.

We sat together in our den and talked about all sorts; cartoons, music, dancing, school. I had never felt so chilled talking to a boy.

After we’d finished our feast, we sat there against the pillar, feeling full. My face must have been covered in icing because K drew a dark red silk hankie from his pocket and handed it to me.

“Better than ruining your sleeve,” he joked.

I drew the silky material across my lips and nose; blowing noisily.

As I went to return it, K grinned and said, “Keep it.”

His generousness sent a whoosh through my tummy, “I will thanks.”

Lowering the hankie from my face, I glanced down. The material was soft and felt expensive, and stitched into the fabric were the letters K K. I ran my fingers over them, wondering what they stood for but decided not to ask. To me, he was just K and that was perfect.

We chatted for a while longer until K suggested we find my mother. I needed help cleaning my knees before my tights started sticking to the cuts.

As he helped me crawl out from under the stage, he glanced around and asked if I saw my mother. She was talking to my uncle, in the corner of the room and I nodded towards them. She looked so beautiful in her wedding dress.

I felt K stiffen beside me before he said, “Come on, Boo.” His voice was colder that time.

K took my hand in his and walked me over to my mother. I knew she wouldn’t be mad at me when she saw my knees. Mummy was never mean, but I didn’t want to spoil her day. That’s why I’d decided to hide until after she’d finished dancing.

“Mrs Wilkinson,” K said, grabbing my Mummy's attention; and calling her by her new name. I was surprised he knew it. Before that, she had been Mrs Briggs and one time we’d shared the same surname, Cawthorne.

Mummy and my uncle turned to look down at me, a look of concern flashing across their faces.

“What have you done to yourself?” Uncle Graham gasped.

“Oh, my goodness darling, did you fall?” she said, dropping down, and placing her arms around me. This broke my hand away from K’s and I felt that loss deep in the pit of my tummy.

Mummy squeezed me, and my uncle called to someone over my head.

As she let me go, her gaze fell on K and I too turned to face him. “Thank you so much, err…” she began, clearly not knowing him.

“K,” I replied for him, not failing to notice the cross look he was giving my mother. This drew her gaze to me and then back again.

“Sorry?”

“K, that’s his name. I fell and he helped me up.” K didn’t try and correct my fib.

As Mummy straightened, his expression warmed again once his eyes met mine.

“Thank you so much K,” Mummy said nicely.

K squatted down so his eyes were on my level and ruffled my hair with his hand. It made me smile.

He then pushed back to his feet. He was so tall, like a giant.

Our eyes remained locked together like someone had used the strongest of glues.

“Thank you,” I said, looking up at the angel that had saved me. The disco ball in the hall was working and lit up the floor with a million stars. As they floated over his face and shoulders, he looked almost spirit-like.

“See you around, Boo. And one day, I promise you, you will find your happy ever after.”

As he moved to turn away my mother asked, “Sorry, I’d like to thank you properly. Who are you?”

After another glance down at me, his last words confused me and I knew they would stay with me forever.

“Nobody.”