Chapter Fifteen Aftershocks
chapter fifteen
Aftershocks
Nathan got up long before dawn.
Truth was, he hadn’t slept at all.
He’d lain there flat on his back, staring up at the cracked ceiling, the way he used to stare up at foreign stars the night before deployment, mind rattling around like a tin can kicked down a dark road.
He’d listened hard, ears tuned to every creak and sigh of the house.
Having confiscated Alfie’s phone, he knew the kid hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t tried to slip out.
Still, Nathan wasn’t na?ve. These kinds of operations didn’t always run through the usual channels.
Phones could be burner throwaways, handoffs made in person. Old school. Harder to trace.
So he stayed awake.
Stayed and listened.
Because keeping Alfie inside these four walls was the only thing he could control.
But when he wasn’t listening for movement, he was thinking about Freddie. How the rest of his night might have gone after Nathan had bolted with Alfie in tow. Was he safe? Had it come back on him? Nathan hated to think that Freddie might pay a price for his screw-up too.
By the time the first grey light bled through the curtains, Nathan gave up.
He pulled on trackies, went out to the shed, and dragged his old army boxing bag and weights into the mess of the backyard.
Did three rounds until his knuckles throbbed and his lungs burned, the cold air biting into him.
Sweated it out. Pushed until the buzz of adrenaline finally bled away.
After a quick shower, he was in the kitchen making toast when Alfie appeared. The kid looked rough. Dressed in school trousers, shirt half-tucked, tie looped around his neck in an afterthought, with his bag slumped off one shoulder.
“Can I have my phone?”
Nathan waved his fingers from the burn of the toast. “No.” He slathered butter and jam onto a slice and shoved it towards him. “Eat.”
“Ain’t hungry.”
“I said eat.”
Alfie grabbed the toast and bit down, chewing with the grim determination of someone taking medicine.
Nathan caught the crumpled blazer half-hanging from Alfie’s bag. “Wear the blazer.”
Alfie grimaced, mouth full. “It’s a fucking cast-off. ”
“Don’t care. Wear the blazer.”
Alfie huffed and yanked it free. Nathan held out a hand, palm up. “I’ll iron it.”
Alfie blinked at him. “You know how to iron?”
Nathan smirked, the first ghost of genuine feeling breaking through the tension. “The army ain’t all rifles and crawling through mud, mate. You turn up looking like a sack of spanners, the sergeant major’ll beat you ‘til you shine.”
Alfie snorted. A real, reluctant snort, then handed over the blazer.
Nathan turned towards the ironing board, blazer draped over his arm, and for the first time in what felt like hours, the knot in his gut loosened.
After making sure Alfie looked half-respectable, tie straight, blazer ironed into obedience, Nathan ushered him out the door, calling over his shoulder towards the bathroom. “Taking Alfie to school, Dad. I’ll be late to the garage.”
A toilet flushed. A grunt followed. Ron’s version of consent. So Nathan grabbed the car keys and bundled Alfie into the battered Fiesta.
The town was shaking itself awake as they drove.
Streets still slick from the morning mist, shop shutters half-rolled up, the scent of wet tarmac and fried bacon clinging to the air.
A bin lorry rumbled past them, workers heaving bags into the back with dull thuds.
A flock of gulls screamed overhead, wheeling low between the crooked rooftops.
Worthbridge looked harmless enough on mornings like this. Almost pretty, if you squinted.
But Nathan knew better now.
The closer they got to the school, the more the illusion fell apart .
Buses hissed at the kerb. Kids spilled out in noisy clusters, rucksacks dragging low, voices high-pitched and cruel. Packs formed around the gates. Some laughing too loud, others skulking in hoodies with narrowed eyes and silent assessments, clocking every arrival. Territory. Rank. Weakness.
Nathan scanned them all with a soldier’s gaze. They weren’t innocent teenagers. Not anymore. Not to him. They were risks. Influences. The very hands that could drag Alfie straight back into the shit he’d pulled him out of hours ago.
He could only hope the ones involved in last night’s raid weren’t there. That they’d been arrested. Or scared off. But he knew how this worked. There was a good chance someone had clocked Alfie missing when the heat came down. And if they were smart, they’d already started asking questions.
Nathan pulled up to the kerb and shifted the car into neutral. Alfie went to open the door, but Nathan stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Is there anyone in there,”—he nodded towards the school gates—“who was with you last night?”
Alfie didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him either.
“Alf.” Nathan widened his eyes. “I’m not asking so I can drag anyone out by the collar. I’m asking cause I need to know you’re safe walking through those gates.”
Alfie shook his head. “No one.”
Nathan didn’t buy it, not fully. “Then where do you know them from?”
“The skate park mostly. Sometimes town.”
Nathan scanned the clusters of teens already forming. “So inside there, you’re good?”
Alfie gave a half-shrug. “I ain’t scared of them.”
“No? ”
“No.”
“Maybe you should be.”
Alfie scoffed. “A bunch of beach rats? Surfer dudes? You know where I grew up, yeah? I weren’t scared of no one round there neither.”
“One day, that big man act’s gonna land you in a place you can’t walk out of. Keep your head down.”
Alfie tutted under his breath and pushed the door open. He climbed out, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Nathan leant out the window. “If anyone asks, you ran.”
Alfie frowned. “What?”
“Last night. If someone inside starts asking where you went, you heard the sirens, and you legged it. End of.”
“Right.” Alfie rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“I’ll be right here at pickup.”
“Can I have my phone? In case I’m late or whatever.”
“Why would you be late?”
“Detention?”
Nathan let out a dry breath. “Easy fix. Don’t get one. We’ll talk about your phone later.”
He watched Alfie walk off, shoulders tense, hood up, weaving through the noise and chaos like someone already halfway used to surviving.
Nathan stayed put.
School wasn’t perfect. Wasn’t always safe. But it was structured. It was seen . And right now, Alfie needed to be visible. To know someone was watching. That someone gave enough of a shit to show up. But the second Alfie disappeared inside, all the fear Nathan had been bottling up broke loose.
He turned out of the school road, steering towards the juniors’ entrance, where the parent crowd thickened. Mothers wrangled prams, toddlers clutched dinosaur lunch boxes and dads nursed lukewarm takeout coffees.
Then he blinked, slamming the brakes harder than necessary at the junction.
Because there, walking down the pavement towards the infant school gates, was a figure he’d know anywhere.
Different hair colour, lighter now. A light honey blonde.
But unmistakable. Pushing a battered pram with one hand, holding a little girl’s hand with the other, the child’s pigtails bobbing with every skipping step.
Piper.
Nathan swallowed hard.
Older. Changed. But still Freddie’s sister.
He wound down the window. “Piper!”
Piper stopped, turned towards him, face twisted in a scowl, ready to offload her wrath at some prick catcalling her. Then she clocked him, and her scowl melted into a smile.
“Nathan Carter.” She planted a hand on her hip. “Heard you were back in town. How’s things?”
“Yeah. Good,” he lied, flashing a tight smile and popped his elbow onto the window frame, nodding towards the kids. “You been busy.”
“Tell me about it. Baby Ryan’s six months now.
Teething like a bastard. And this little terror is Tilly.
” She nudged the small girl hiding behind her leg forward.
Tilly peered up at Nathan, eyes wide, suspicious, a finger tucked into her mouth.
“Say hello, Tils. This is Nathan. Uncle Freddie’s bff. ”
Tilly gasped, then frowned as she tugged her mum’s sleeve. “Uncle Freddie said I’m his best friend.”
Nathan chuckled under his breath. Cute didn’t even cover it .
“He is, honey.” Piper stroked through Tilly’s plaits and gave Nathan a subtle, all-knowing wink. “Nate’s a different type of friend.”
The subtext hit Nathan in the ribs. She knew. Knew what they’d once been when they’d kept it from everyone.
“Was actually on my way to your mum’s,” he said, shifting gears. “She still at Grove Way?”
Piper straightened, rocking the pram as Ryan fussed, that warning whine Nathan remembered meaning a meltdown wasn’t far off. “Yeah. But she ain’t there.”
“Oh.”
“Off on some retreat. Learning to be a clairvoyant.”
Nathan laughed under his breath. “That’s escalated.”
“Ain’t it just.” Piper cocked her head. “Why you wanna see Mum?”
Nathan scratched the back of his neck. Sheepish. “Was hoping to leave a message for Freddie. Don’t have his number anymore and needed to…say thanks about something.”
Piper glanced down at Tilly for a beat, as if weighing something up. “He’s on nights for the next four days. Gets home about eight, has dinner, then crashes about ten, up for the gym, then back to work.”
Nathan nodded. Right. He was busy. He got it.
“You wanna catch him, best go round there now.”
Nathan’s heart stuttered. “Right. You, er, got his address?”
Piper fished out her phone. “What’s your number?”
Nathan reeled it off and a second later, his phone buzzed with a WhatsApp pin and address. “That the old showground?”
“Yeah. New build estate now. He’s got a first-floor maisonette. Small, but nice. Cracking view of the pier. ”
“The pier huh?” A tiny sliver of a smile lifted his lips. “Thanks, Pipes.”
“I don’t need to threaten you, do I?”
“Huh?”
“Like, I know you’re built like a brick and that, but seriously, you hurt him, and I’ll unleash this one on ya.”