Chapter 1 #2
Her eyebrow lifts. “Big decisions like deciding to gamble away our home? You’re too soft with him, Wes.”
“He’s all I’ve got,” I say helplessly, as caught by my love for my brother as I always am. “I’m so mad I could kill him at the moment, but at the same time I love him, and I’d do anything for him.” I shrug. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” she says softly. “Do you want to come with me? My mum loves you. You could kip on the sofa until you find something.”
Temptation stirs, but I shake my head immediately to ward it off. “I couldn’t do that, babe. I know money’s tight at your parents’ house with your dad being off work at the moment.”
“You sure?”
I nod, and she steps forward and hugs me tightly. “I love you, Wes. Don’t be a stranger. You know where I am. I don’t want to lose contact.”
I kiss her forehead, inhaling her perfume. She and Tyler have been together since they were at school. Losing her would be like losing one of my family members—another thing to be angry at my brother for.
“I don’t understand it,” I say, my eyes heating with frustrated tears.
Her face twists. “You and me both. I’ll see you soon, yes?”
Grabbing her case, she walks out of the house without a second glance.
I look around, pain twisting under my ribs. This is the only home I’ve ever known. I was born here. My mum died here. What the fuck am I going to do now?
One of the men comes into the hallway. He’s carrying a small object in his hand. “Move,” he grunts.
I step back to avoid being banged into. Then I see what he’s carrying so carelessly, and I’m suddenly white hot with rage. Why have I been standing here, dazed, while they’ve literally been throwing away my memories?
“Give me that,” I snap.
He stops in his tracks. “ What ?”
“Give me that. It’s my mum’s jewellery box.”
“Get lost.”
I step forward, my fists clenching. “I won’t tell you again,” I say slowly. “Give me that jewellery box. You’re not chucking it on a fucking bonfire.”
A shadow falls over us and I look up to find Mr Grey staring at us from the doorway. “What’s going on here?” he asks sharply.
The bloke raises his hand, showing him the small box. “The little twat’s trying to take this off me.”
“I’m not trying ,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m going to. You’ve got no fucking right to throw that on a bonfire. It’s my mum’s jewellery box.”
He puts a meaty hand on my chest and shoves me back so hard that I crash into the wall. Pain explodes in my shoulder, but I bounce back and grab his arm. “Give it to me.”
His eyes flare, but at that moment, Mr Grey intervenes.
“Stop,” he says in a quiet voice.
We both stop struggling immediately, as if he’d shouted the command.
I look at him in entreaty. “It’s all costume jewellery. It means nothing to you or Mr Jackson. It’s just rubbish to be thrown on the tip. I want it because it’s precious to me. That doesn’t mean anything to anyone, but maybe it should.”
He stares at me for a long few seconds and then jerks his head at the man. “Give it to him.”
“Boss?”
His eyes narrow. “Have you gone deaf, or maybe you’re just stupid, Carl? You know I don’t like repeating myself.”
The man thrusts the box at me so hard that I take two steps back. Once it’s in my grip, I cradle it protectively. He marches out of the house.
“I’ve given you that,” Mr Grey says softly. “Now, I think it’s time for you to leave, Wes Archer. Go and grab your clothes and whatever you can carry and fuck off.”
“Why did you help?” I whisper.
“You haven’t done anything wrong, and you remind me a bit of someone.” He lowers his sunglasses. “But that reminder only lasts for so long. Now get gone before I forget that and deal you a bit of the punishment your brother deserves.”
I swallow hard and nod and then thunder up the stairs into my bedroom.
The small room has been mine since I was born, and it’s bright and warm in the sunshine.
I can’t believe this is really happening to us.
I should march back downstairs and demand evidence of Tyler’s debts, but Mr Grey scares me enough not to try, and somehow I know he was telling the truth.
I walk over to the window and watch the men below as they move in and out of the house tossing more stuff on the rubbish pile.
Then I come to a decision. I’ll get my things and go, but I have to think that I’m coming back.
This can be fixed. I know it. I just have to talk with Tyler. Together we can figure out a way.
I grab my suitcase and begin shoving clothes and shoes into it. Mr Grey wasn’t joking, and I’m in danger the longer I stay here.
“Where’s that lad gone?” comes a shout from below, and I increase my speed.
After forcing a pair of trainers into the case, I manage to half-zip it before abandoning it to grab my toilet bag from the chest of drawers.
I shove my iPad and chargers into my rucksack and the cash tin from my bedside table.
The contents are worryingly low, and fear rises in my throat. What the hell am I going to do?
Footsteps thunder on the stairs, and a man appears in my doorway. “Out now,” he snaps.
“I’m coming.” I grab my suitcase handle, shoulder my rucksack, and walk towards him.
My coursework and books are all in my locker at uni.
I look around hopelessly at the bookshelf and single bed, the colourful posters on the wall, and the lamp we found in a neighbour’s skip.
Tyler had repaired it, and it’s been sitting by my bed for years.
I want to take so much stuff, but my time has run out.
The man holds the door open for me. It’s not a courtesy, but a reminder to do as I’m told.
A lingering itch in my brain tells me I’ve forgotten something. I hesitate for a moment before I exclaim, “Just one second.”
He sighs. “Hurry the fuck up.”
I dart back to the wardrobe and find the photo album on the shelf.
It’s a record of my childhood and the only memories I have of my mum.
I wrap it tenderly in a T-shirt and stuff it into my bag.
I also take the framed photo from my chest of drawers.
It’s of my mum, me, and Tyler on a rare trip outside London.
We’d visited an old aunt of hers who lived near the New Forest, and she’d taken the photo in the garden.
My mum’s dark hair shines, and her thin face, which so often looked worried, wore a big smile for once.
I was little, sitting on Tyler’s knee, my arms wrapped around his neck, and my face creased in a big smile, showing off my missing front teeth.
Tyler is smiling too, but worry shades the grin—worry a boy his age shouldn’t have had.
I think even then he’d known the world wasn’t going to be easy for us.
“I don’t know why you’re bothering with a picture of him,” my companion says, nodding at the photo. “Didn’t he get you in this mess in the first place?”
“He’s my brother,” I say fiercely, glaring at him. “And he’ll always be my brother.”
Then I march down the stairs and out into a world that’s suddenly completely strange—a world that’s topsy-turvy and makes me feel dizzy with the speed at which everything has changed.
A woman walks by pushing a pushchair with a happily babbling toddler inside. Nearby, workmen shout at each other, the music from their radio rising loudly over traffic sounds. How can such normal things be happening when my whole world is collapsing?
Shouldering my bag and nodding at Mr Grey, I begin to walk down the street, worry and fear making my steps quick.
I turn the corner, but I don’t look back.
Leaving the memories behind me, I keep walking.
I walk and walk, the wheels of my suitcase squeaking, my back hurting under the weight of my bag, sweat breaking out over my body.
My feet get tired, and my breathing is coming in heavy pants, but I can’t seem to stop. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do, so I just keep going. My eyes sting, and the spring sunshine makes them water. I reach for my sunglasses but remember that they’re back at home.
Home.
The word cuts the strings to my legs, and I wobble, feeling dizzy.
Looking around, I find myself on a quiet street of semi-detached houses and a neat row of shops.
A nearby shop is closed and shuttered, and I drop my bags and half fall onto its steps.
My vision dips and whirls, and I push my head between my legs, taking deep breaths until the dizziness fades.
Even then, I stay still, unable to look up and face reality.
Maybe if I stay like this, I’ll wake up and find it was all a dream.
“Wes? It is Wes, isn’t it?” The voice is posh, the tone cool, and the words take a while to travel from my ears to my brain.
Lifting my head, I see the boy standing in front of me and groan. “ You .”
He cocks his head, and his blond hair falls artlessly over his forehead, highlighting the perfect symmetry of his face.
He’s wearing simple clothes—jeans, a light jumper, and sunglasses, but they all look like designer items, and his posture is as perfect as usual—straight and tall.
The customary sense of being less than him makes my teeth hurt.
Julian. He’s a beautiful boy, but as cold as ice.
He’s also my classmate and my rival for the top spot in our year.
Between the two of us, we’ve managed to dominate the leaderboard, and we’re locked in a silent rivalry that I’ve never been entirely sure isn’t all on my side.
Something about him winds me up—maybe it’s his effortless perfection, his air of wealth, and the sense that he has no problems. But he’s always been perfectly nice to me. Standoffish, but still coolly nice.
“What are you doing here, Julian?”
“Buying some new vinyl. There’s a brilliant record shop on this street.”