Chapter 21 #3
Dirt and grease coated the walls, the kind of grime that embedded itself when someone brushed against the same spot several hundred times.
There was a dark patch in the middle of the uncarpeted stairs, another at the end of the hall, and Taylor wondered if that was where William sat when he listened to his dad beating up his mum.
Taylor’s spot had been at the top of the stairs, until his mum eventually left and Taylor got sick of the arguing and left too.
William was in the kitchen, throwing dirty plates and cups into the sink. He scowled at Taylor. “It isn’t usually like this,” he said, picking up empty cider cans and bottles of half-drunk beer. He threw them into a bin that was already spilling over.
Taylor watched him. Watched the way he tidied up with practiced efficiency, how he threw his dad’s empty snap bags away and tipped unfinished bottles of methadone down the sink. Jesus, Taylor knew Manders was an addict, but he didn’t know it had gotten that bad.
Usually, rage would have bubbled up in Taylor like a fucking volcano and he’d have marched back to the police station and ripped Manders out of his cell. Instead, he stepped back into the living room, grabbed William’s coat from the back of a filthy armchair and made his way over to him.
“Come on,” he said, gripping William’s shoulder. “Put those down, you’re coming home with me.”
William tried to pull free, the desperate spark in his eyes making a return when Taylor didn’t let go. He struggled, but whatever fight he had in him seemed to die when he looked up into Taylor’s eyes.
The tears came then. Thick and heavy on William’s cheeks, running down his chin and onto his neck.
Taylor knew his mum wasn’t coming, he knew William just wanted to see the house one last time before never being allowed back.
Taylor understood that feeling all too well, because for better or worse, William would have had at least one happy memory there. With his mum, surely.
But children shouldn’t have to look after their parents, or cover for their shitty behaviour.
“Mum’s not well,” Taylor used to say to the social workers. Or “Dad’s busy tonight, he’ll be back tomorrow.” Looking back, it was probably why he bit his parents—to stop them from leaving. From leaving him, and each other.
But, in the end, his mum left and he ran away all on his own.
“Please,” William whispered, pulling at Taylor’s sleeve. “Please, Mum will… Mum will come back and—”
Taylor shook his head, gathering William into his arms. That time he didn’t pull away. “She isn’t coming, Will,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t… you don’t know that! She might be on her way right now. I can… I can help her.”
“That isn’t your job, bud.”
He let Taylor lead him out of the house then strap him into the car. They drove in silence back to the house, the only sound coming from William quietly sobbing.
Well, if Taylor hadn’t felt like a piece of shit before, he certainly did then.
The air dropped cooler as late afternoon merged into early evening, pinky sunlight spilling into the living room as William followed Taylor through the front door. Isla didn’t mind that he’d taken the squad car home, but she did have some serious reservations about him taking William home too.
Well, fortunately for her, Taylor was a fucking expert when it came to emergency care agreements and what was and wasn’t considered a place of safety. Within the home of a police officer was one. Teachers too. And vicars, but… maybe the care system should revisit that one.
She also threatened to sack him unless he took a day off, and he couldn’t really argue with that.
“I thought you lived at the pack house,” William said, voice a little stronger than it had been before. Taylor knew damn well that Manders had skulked around the pack boundary, catching his scent in the woods more than once. It made sense that William knew it too.
“We used to,” he replied, dropping the car keys onto the kitchen table before pulling a can of Fanta from the fridge and handing it to William. “But we moved out not long before Clem and Gabby were born.”
William shuddered. “Gabriella scares me.”
“She should. She scares me too.”
William huffed out a laugh just as his stomach gave a loud growl.
“Have you eaten?” Taylor said, watching how he gripped his sides.
“I… Yeah.”
Taylor raised his eyebrows. “When?”
Shrugging, William took a long slurp from his can. “Can’t remember.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Taylor muttered, guiding him over to the kitchen table. “Didn’t the hamster family feed you?”
William shrugged again, that time more aggressively. “I wasn’t hungry.”
Taylor sighed as he placed a bowl, spoon, milk and three different kinds of cereal in front of him. “Eat,” he said, dropping a protein bar next to the bowl before turning towards the stairs. “I’m going to run you a bath and find you some more clothes. Then you’re going to eat some more, got it?”
William frowned, eyeing the cereal suspiciously. “Okay,” he said, grabbing the box of Cheerios and tipping a load into the bowl.
Taylor nodded before ambling upstairs and towards the bathroom.
“Shit,” he muttered, realising there were at least ten missed calls and three voicemails flashing up on his mobile. He listened to one. “Good afternoon, Mr Campbell! Mr Ateba is ready to be discharged, please come via the visitors’ entrance to collect him.”
Followed by another an hour later. “Mr Campbell, Mr Ateba is waiting for you at reception, please come and collect him.”
And finally: “Taylor, you bastard, where are you? I’ve tried calling three times. This is my new number. Signal’s shit, by the way.”
“Fuuuuuck,” Taylor groaned, quickly pulling a T-shirt and shorts from his drawer and hooking them over his shoulder. He heard the front door slam just as he made it to the end of the landing. “Shiiiiiit.”
As he bounded down the stairs two at a time there came a sudden “What the hell?” followed by “William?”
Taylor clenched his jaw as he rounded the corner, finding Johnny standing in the middle of the living room. He had some random tracksuit on that must have come from the hospital’s lost and found box, as well as a pair of paper-thin flip flops.
“I can explain!” Taylor said, throwing his hands up.
He padded over to Johnny, resting them on his shoulders.
He noticed that he wasn’t wearing the sling or a plaster cast but did have a massive multi-layer bandage covering his forearm.
He pulled Johnny’s face around to look him in the eyes, but Johnny wrenched his chin free, his expression a mixture of confusion and fury.
Johnny’s top lip peeled back, making the swelling across his left cheek bunch up. “Taylor, you’ve got five seconds to explain why William Manders is eating cereal at our kitchen table.”
“I-it’s a long story, actually—”
“Five.”
“I went to the hospital and you weren’t there—”
“Four.”
“We were meant to be taking Wendy for lunch but then—”
“Three.”
“Then a call came in and William showed me this rancid stream—”
“Two.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, JP, he was out there on his own! He ran away from the foster home and I can’t just watch him go through this shit anymore!”
Johnny snarled, wolf flaring behind his eyes as he gripped the front of Taylor’s shirt with his uninjured hand. “So why didn’t you take him back to the foster home? Why did you bring him into our house?”
Taylor threw his arms out, his own wolf flaring in response. “What’s the point? What’s the fucking point? They keep sending him places he doesn’t want to be, they keep fucking his life over again and again, and I… I can’t do it, JP. I can’t watch him go through the same shit I did.”
“And what about Mum and Dad, and the restaurant? What about the trouble this will bring on them when Manders is released later today? Because I’m sure as shit the CPS won’t remand him just because he had a bit of class A on him.”
Taylor rapidly shook his head. “No, there was another drugs den. More Love Dust. Manders was there.”
“They still won’t remand him. He’ll be bailed and you’ll get locked up for child abduction!” He pressed a knuckle into Taylor’s temple. “Use your fucking head, Tay.”
“Fuck you,” Taylor said through clenched teeth. “I know all that but—”
William rose from the chair, his face setting into a hard glare. “I’ll go,” he said, face pale as he eyed Johnny warily.
Johnny took a deep breath, turning to him. “No,” he said evenly, raising a hand. “No, just sit down. Finish eating.” He turned, glaring at Taylor, then at the clothes over his shoulder. “I guess it explains why you didn’t pick me up.”
Taylor’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Yeah, I know,” he said, voice quiet. “Sorry about that.”
Johnny shook his head and slumped onto their tatty sofa, a hand steepled over his forehead like he was thinking. “Just…” He let out a breath. “I’m going for a shower. Just don’t do anything impulsive until I come back, alright?”
Taylor nodded dumbly, watching as Johnny drifted towards the stairs. He looked at William again, then towards the back door. “Why is my bedding on the washing line?” he said, kicking off his flipflops as he walked towards the window. “And is that a hole in my pillowcase?”
Taylor flushed, grabbing his shoulders and leading him back towards the stairs. “That is also a long story, but not one I can tell you right now.”
“Taylor, what’re you—”
“Not now,” he said, eyeing the dried blood still clinging to the spirals of Johnny’s hair. “Just shower. You smell like shit.”
Johnny frowned, holding up his injured arm. “Difficult to wash with this fucking thing.”
Taylor was about to ask if he needed help, but the simmering anger in Johnny’s eyes made him reconsider. He let Johnny go and slumped into the seat next to William.
“You’re usually the mardy one,” William said, jamming a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
Taylor huffed out a humourless laugh. “Yeah. Who knew getting beaten up could put a pisser on someone’s mood.”