ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror (3 page)

But I can’t stay here all night. 

No one had come out during the attack and that could only mean Pen and Bex didn’t witness what happened.  It was a major relief to Andrew, but still didn’t change the fact that he’d just been assaulted.

Do I call the police?

Andrew’s mind was a muddle.  He couldn’t think straight.  In a lot of ways he’d not yet fully accepted reality to the point of resolution.  The situation was still murky and unclear.  For now, he decided, he would will himself back to his feet and go inside the house.  He wasn’t going to find any answers alone in the porch.

He stepped through into the hallway.  

Pen was coming down the stairs.  She wore her fluffy pink dressing gown and was rubbing at her hair with a towel.  She’d obviously decided to fit in a quick shower while he’d gone to get the chips.

Damn it!  The chips…  What do I say?

“Hi, Hun,” Pen said, smiling.  “You okay?”

Andrew nodded.  “Fine.”

“Where’s the food?”

“It’s…well it’s…”

Pen placed a hand against his cheek.  “Andrew, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered quickly.  “Bloody chip shop had a problem with their fryers; had to close early.  Wasted journey.”

“That’s okay,” Pen said.  She looked concerned; she knew something was up with him.  “We’ll just order Chinese then, or something else.  Whatever we fancy.”

“Sounds good,” Andrew said.  He felt like breaking down in her arms and sobbing right then and there, but he didn’t.  He couldn’t.

“Honey, you really don’t seem yourself.  Has something happened?”

Andrew shook his head and pushed her away.  “I’ve just got a stomach-ache coming on.  Think I’ll have a bath and go to bed.  You and Bex eat without me, okay?”

Pen frowned.  “You said you’d watch a film with her.”

Andrew started up the stairs.  “Sorry for getting ill.  I’ll try not to be so fucking inconsiderate next time.”

There was no reply behind him and Andrew knew it was because his wife was shocked.  He was a mild-mannered man and outbursts were not his style – especially ones containing foul language.

I shouldn’t take things out on her.  She’s just concerned about me.

Hell,
I’m
concerned about me
.

Andrew reached the top of the stairs and turned left towards the bathroom.  He opened the door and stepped inside, pulling the plastic-dolphin light-cord hanging beside his head.  The bulb flickered on above him and hurt his eyes with its harsh glare reflecting off the white wall-tiles.  Somehow the pain in his retinas seemed to reactivate the pain in his abdomen and he doubled over.  He dropped down to his knees and leant against the bathtub, reaching across and turning both taps on at once. He listened to the soothing gush of fresh water for a few seconds, then slipped the plug into the drain and let the tub fill up.

When it was halfway-full, Andrew stood up and peeled off his shirt.  He caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror that was fixed on the back of the bathroom door.  A deep, grey blemish of a developing bruise bloomed beneath the ribs on his right side.  Gently, he ran a finger over the injury and pressed down slightly.  The action was immediately met with a sharp, stabbing pain that radiated through his entire torso.  Andrew’s stomach fluttered with approaching nausea and forced him to lean over the sink and take deep breaths.  It took several minutes before his insides calmed down again.

Hands shaking, Andrew unfastened his jeans and let them fall around his ankles; his underwear too.  Then he stepped out of the clothes and pulled off his socks using his toes, unable to bend down and pull them off by hand.  Once he was completely naked, he stepped over into the bath and gingerly lowered himself down.

The warm water sent fresh stabs of pain through his ribs, but after a few seconds the discomfort subsided and was even alleviated slightly by the therapeutic heat massaging his body.  He slid back against the tub and placed his head down on the spongy bath pillow that Pen had needlessly brought on one of her shopping trips.  He was grateful for it now though and the softness against the back of his skull made him feel sleepy.

He would have to make up with Pen before he went to bed – apologise to her.  Never going to bed on an argument was a wisdom he always abided by.  Whether or not he shared with his wife why he snapped at her in the first place was something he’d not yet decided.

Don’t want to worry her. 

But I don’t want to keep things from her either.

Andrew used the toes of his left foot to turn off the hot water tap and then the cold.  He slid lower into the water, letting his chin touch the surface.  If he could have, he would have gone completely under, accepting the warm and inviting embrace of the water like a protective womb.  He settled for dunking his head under and soaking his hair.  Wet, maple strands plastered his forehead when he came back up and he wiped them away with his hand.

Relaxation approached at last, the tension flowing away into the bath water.  Soon Andrew would be able to think things through rationally – to decide whether or not he would call the police, tell his wife, or just keep the whole thing to himself.  With a calmer mind, Andrew could at least console himself that things would work out one way or another.  He was a middle-classed citizen of the UK, not some impoverished Russian on the mean streets of Moscow.  There was order and civility in Great Britain.  Wretched little monsters like Frankie were punished for their crimes.

He only just got out of a young offender’s home, for Christ’s sake.  Is he planning on going straight back to an adult jail? 

A knock at the bathroom’s door.

“Andrew?”  It was Pen.

Andrew sighed, wishing that the water would swallow him whole.  He still wasn’t ready to speak to his wife.  But what choice did he have?

“Andrew, I ordered you some food as well.  Just in case you change your mind.  I’m worried about you.  Is your stomach-ache really bad?”

“Yeah,” Andrew replied.  “But I’ll try to eat something anyway.  I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

There was a brief pause, but then an answer.  “That’s okay.  We all get grouchy when we’re not very well.”

Andrew suddenly felt teary.  His wife’s compassion was such a contrast to the animosity of earlier events that it sent his brain into an emotional tailspin.  He fought back the tears and made himself smile (although Pen would not see it from the other side of the door).   “I love you, Pen.”

“I love you too, hun.  I’ll see you downstairs, okay?  That film is about to start and Rebecca wants you to watch it with her.”

“Okay.  Be right down.”

Andrew leant forward in the bath and winced against the stiffness and pain in his ribs.  He yanked the chain attached to the plug and listened to the gurgle as the drain began its suction.  Then he lay back down and waited for the water to drain away around him, enjoying the sensual tickle of the water-level dropping against his skin. 

When the tub was finally empty, Andrew remained there for several more minutes, not wanting to move and face the chill of the air outside his ceramic cocoon.

When he did find the willpower to get out of the bath, Andrew quickly grabbed a towel from the warming rail and wrapped it tight around himself.  There was a hidden breeze in the room that nipped at his shoulder-blades in places the towel did not cover.  He fought back a shiver and began drying himself, taking care not to be too rough around his ribs. 

Not wanting to add needlessly to the washing pile, Andrew gathered his clothes off the bathroom floor and decided to put them back on again.  The jeans were comfortable and would be fine for sitting and watching a film.  Perhaps he would get into pyjamas later, after dinner.

The plush carpet of the landing felt good beneath Andrew’s feet.  He padded towards the stairs and started down them.  As he neared the bottom, he could hear the loud blaring of the television from the living room.   For some reason, his daughter was unable to enjoy anything that didn’t carry the risk of hearing damage.

Andrew reached the downstairs hallway and was just about to enter the living room.

There was a knock at the door.

The Chinese is here.  

Andrew changed direction and headed for the porch.  He tried to make out the figure through the glass door-panes, but it was too dark outside to see anything more than a silhouette. 

Andrew opened the door.

Nobody was there.

Andrew stared out into the darkness, straining his eyes for shapes in the shadows.  All of the light was behind him, in the porch, making the darkness in front of him deep and unending.  He leant forward and focused his eye, but still he could see no one. He started to think for a mument that he’d just imagined the knock at the door.

“Alright, mate?”

Andrew jumped back as a figure appeared from behind the left side-wall of the porch and entered the bleeding patch of light from the hallway.  It was Frankie. 

Andrew’s eyes narrowed.  “What the
hell
do you want?”

“Chill out,” Frankie replied, face twitching, scarred mouth grinning.  “No need to shit your pants.  I came to apologise, innit.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed further.  “What?”

Frankie moved forward and placed a foot onto the step of the front door.  Andrew moved forward to meet him.

“I said I’ve come to apologise.”  Frankie lifted the brow of his red beanie hat in a way that was almost gentlemanly, “About tonight’s earlier…misunderstanding.”

Andrew laughed.  “You mean when you assaulted me for no good reason?”

Frankie laughed back.  “Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.  No reason we can’t be friends, though.  You and me, we can be bros, innit.”

“We’ll never be friends,” said Andrew, “and I already have a brother somewhere, so get the hell off my property and clear off.”

Frankie’s smile left his face and his twitch seemed to get worse for a mument.  “Careful, mate.  I don’t appreciate being told what to do, you get me?”

Andrew shook his head.  “Look, what do you want?  I’ve done nothing to you.”

“I know,” Frankie agreed.  “Which is why I’m going to allow you to make peace.”

“Make peace!  I didn’t do anything to
breach
the peace.”

Frankie sighed.  “You going to fuckin’ listen to me, mate, or am I going to have to drop you again?”

“How dare you threaten me in my own home.”

“Fuck your home.  This whole fuckin’ neighbourhood is mine.  You want to be left alone; you do what the fuck I tell you.  Give me your trainers.”

Andrew was taken aback.  “Sorry?”

Give me them sweet-ass Nikes and you’ll be left alone.”

“Fuck you!”

Frankie grabbed Andrew around the throat and sneered.  Andrew struggled back and managed to escape the grip, but his heart was racing.

“Do you want to die?” asked Frankie.

Andrew shook his head in disbelief.  “You’re insane.”

“Damn straight.  I’ll cut you up and snort your fucking remains if I feel like it.  Question is: are you going to behave and do as you’re told, or do I have to show you just how fuckin’ crazy I am?”

Andrew went to reply but was interrupted.

“Who’s at the door, Andrew?”  It was Pen shouting from the living room.

Frankie smirked.  He pulled something from his pocket.  The object glinted in the light of the porch and Andrew knew it was a knife.

“No one,” said Andrew.  “I-I’ll just be a minute.”

Frankie put the knife back in his pocket. 

“I thought maybe it was the Chinese.”

“No,” Andrew shouted back.  “I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“Going to have a nice dinner with the missus?” Frankie asked.  “You go off the idea of chips then?”  He took another step forward, half-inside the doorway now.  “Maybe I should join you all?  Always nice to know the neighbours.  Say, don’t you have a fine-ass daughter I’ve seen around here?”

Andrew pushed Frankie back out the door.  “You leave my family the-fuck alone.”

Frankie said nothing.  He just smiled, standing on the path as if waiting for something.

Andrew realised what Frankie was waiting for.  He sighed, picked up the Nike trainers from the shoe rack, and tossed them out of the door.  “Here!” he snarled.  “Now just leave me the fuck alone, you jackal.”

Frankie smiled.  “You think I’m going to pick ‘em up off the floor?  Go get them and hand them to me properly.”

Andrew shook his head.  “Are you serious?”

Frankie stared at Andrew.  His hand reached for his pocket again.

Andrew threw his hands up in the air.  “Fine!  It would be my goddamn pleasure.”  He stepped outside and gathered up the shoes from the pavement.  Then he returned to Frankie and thrust the trainers into the lad’s arms.  “Now leave me alone.”

Frankie nodded as he examined his new possessions.  “Deal’s a deal, mate.  Have a nice life.”

Frankie walked away just as another figure walked up the path in the opposite direction.  When the man reached the porch, he held a brown paper bag out to Andrew.  “Chinese delivery?”

Andrew took the bag from the man and tried his best to smile, but it was impossible, so he just paid for the food and gave a good tip instead.  The last thing he felt right now was hungry.  In fact he felt downright sick.

Chapter Three

Getting to sleep was a long and lonely struggle.  Pen had started her gentle snoring as soon as her head hit the pillow, but Andrew had lay next to her for what seemed like hours, staring up at the ceiling, his head swirling with unwanted thoughts.

The movie Bex made him watch was disturbing, full of monsters and giant insects feasting on the flesh of the living.  The ending had been bleak and depressing, but Bex seemed to enjoy it, grinning between each mouthful of egg foo yung.

The film wasn’t what was keeping Andrew awake, though.  Frankie haunted his mind like a relentless boogieman, terrorising his dreams.  Every time sleep came, Frankie’s scarred, twitching face would jar him Andrew back awake.  It was now 4:00AM according to the LED clock on the bedside table.