Our Vinnie (10 page)

The other plod – the one he hadn’t been cuffed to – suddenly grabbed Vinnie by the arm. ‘Think you’re clever, do you? You’re nothing but a Yorkshire fucking tyke.’ He grinned nastily. ‘And guess what?’ he added, glancing again at the desk sergeant. ‘The lads in the holding cell have all had a few bevvies already and, trust me, they’re gonna love
you
, lad.’

Without further comment to either of the others, he marched Vinnie through a door, and down a corridor, yanking him to a halt in front of the caged bars of a holding cell, the desk sergeant not very far behind.

Vinnie straightened himself right up and tried to look unimpressed by the inhabitants, three of whom were standing in a ragged row, presumably to greet him. They were a black bloke in his twenties, sporting a giant Afro hair-do, a couple of old geezers, filthy-looking (not to mention stinking) who were obviously tramps, and a fourth man who looked to be in his forties. He was covered in tattoos and obviously out of his tree on something, because he was sprawled out on a bench, a pool of recent-looking sick glistening on the floor beside him and contributing to the stench.

The copper unlocked the door and pushed Vinnie inside. ‘Some entertainment, lads!’ he quipped. ‘You all be nice though, okay? He’s just a little kid with a big gob.’

Vinnie slipped his hands into his jeans pockets and fashioned a grin for his bemused audience. He was shitting himself and he needed a strategy. Which of these fellow inmates was he most in with a shot at captivating? He needed to get someone on side, and quickly. The man who’d thrown up was beginning to stir now and pushed himself upright and, by some instinct – it wasn’t rational, the man was stinking and covered in vomit – he stuck out a hand. ‘Alright, mush?’ he said. ‘I’m Vinnie.’

The man laughed, but not unpleasantly, and immediately shook the outstretched hand. ‘Now then, you little cunt, you’re a bit young to be in here, aren’t you? What the fuck did you
do
?’

The black guy laughed as well then and, having obviously risen at the sound of his approach – like dogs do when they hear the rattle of a tin – they all sat down again on the remaining benches that went around the three walls. Vinnie breathed a silent sigh of relief and joined in the laughter. ‘Fucking GBH or ABH or something. Fuck knows. Whatever it was, I bit the big fucker’s cheek off.’

The big bloke and the black man both laughed even louder, thumping each other on the arm. Maybe they were friends. The black man wiped his eyes then and said to Vinnie, ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, that’s livened us up a bit! I’m Maurice, man,’ he said, holding his own hand out. Vinnie shook it. ‘And this here’s Grant. How long you here for?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Vinnie, as the copper turned the key behind him. ‘They’re supposed to be putting me in a new approved school or something.’

‘Approved school, eh?’ The black guy scratched his head. ‘Well, make yourself at home, Vin. And don’t worry about these two,’ he said, pointing to the tramps, who eyed him incuriously. ‘They’re only here till they sober up. Obviously.’

‘Or fall down fuckin’ dead,’ Grant said. Upon which they both threw their heads back and burst out laughing again.

And as Grant laughed, Vinnie noticed the tattoo round his neck. It was a series of roughly inked blue lines – a dotted line, in fact – and underneath it, at the front, written in pretty shitty writing, was the faded and grubby instruction to ‘cut here’.

Vinnie couldn’t wait till he could get some tattoos. He’d remember that one, he decided. But for the moment – well, what now? They just sat here? That was what struck him most, the weirdness of the situation. That he was sat in a room with four men, two of them tramps. Nothing to do. Nothing to read. Nowhere to go.

Worst of all, they had started talking dirty. Not to him – now he was here he was no longer a novelty – but telling each other about birds they’d both shagged and what they’d done to them, which was a subject that, Miss Biggs aside, wasn’t doing it for him. They weren’t that young themselves, so chances were they’d be ropey old birds they were discussing, too. Yeuch.

He was bored stiff and began to wonder if he should ask for a pen and paper so he could write a letter or something to help pass the time.
Fuck!
he thought, remembering suddenly.
His letters!
They were still under his pillow in his bunk. He’d slipped them under there when he’d gone down to check out the ruck in the yard and hadn’t given a thought to them since.

Fuck
, he thought again, realising that was the last he’d probably see of them. At least for a while. How could he have forgotten them? What an idiot. And what were the chances – even if he asked the copper to call the home in Brighton for him – of him ever getting his hands on them again? Already been scooped up in the laundry no doubt, when they cleared the room to make way for the next poor sod.

He felt even worse when he realised that there was absolutely no chance of him being allowed to call home and speak to his sister now. He sat back and rested his head against the cold, unyeilding wall, feeling guilty. He felt bad about that bit. Poor Titch.

Still, he decided, it was probably something and nothing anyway. Whatever was eating his little sis at the moment was probably fuck all compared to the shit
he
was in.

Chapter 8

Josie lifted the nicotine-stained net curtains for what must have been the twentieth time and peered anxiously out into the blackness. Where
was
her mum? She should have been home hours ago. She’d left the house at about four in the morning, it had seemed like, and it was now after eight in the evening.

‘Any sign of her, Titch?’

She jumped at the unexpected sound of her dad’s voice. He’d been dozing, but clearly no longer. She shook her head.

‘Bollocks to it, then!’ he said with feeling, rising stiffly from his armchair, and reaching to grab his overcoat from the sofa arm. ‘She’s probably pissed off straight to the pub, Titch. You know what she’s like. Telling all her fucking mates about what the boy wonder’s been up to.’

Josie lowered the net. ‘No she won’t have, Dad,’ she said. ‘She knows better. I told her to come let me know as soon as she got back.’

She watched her dad shrug his coat on and slip his tobacco tin in the pocket, clearly bound for the pub now as well. It hurt her to think her mam might have gone straight to the Bull without popping home first to see her, because she knew how desperately she wanted some news about Vinnie. It had been on her mind since Saturday night, when her Auntie Mo had called round, saying the social worker had been on the phone wanting June. Something had happened – something bad – because her mam had been in a mood all Sunday. Had he been causing trouble? If so, what kind of trouble? She’d asked, but her mam said she didn’t actually know. All she’d say was that he’d been his usual stupid fucking self and ‘gone off on one’ with someone, which told her nothing she didn’t already know.

She wouldn’t have gone straight to the pub, would she? Surely not. But her dad clearly thought so, and maybe he was right. ‘Yeah, love,’ he said, ‘and pigs might fly. I’m telling you, Titch, she won’t give a fuck about what you said. Anyway, I’m off up to the Bull and I bet you a pound to a penny she’ll already be up there.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘I’ll see you later if you’re still awake, okay?’

Josie nodded miserably and continued her vigil by the window, now following Jock’s progress as he made his way up the street. It was the back end of November and the nights were dark and bitterly cold. Though hope was beginning to fade now, she still clung to it anyway, praying with all her heart that her mother, just this once, had remembered what she’d promised. She rubbed away the condensation that kept building up in front of her and squashed her nose once again against the window pane. There was nothing else to do, after all.

A couple of minutes later, Josie’s patience was rewarded. She saw the lights of a car sweep round the corner and, even as she was prepared for it to drive past and disappoint her, she saw it slow and then come to a stop outside. It was a taxi, she realised, one that had been carrying her mum; even in the dark, June’s platinum hair and that mad coat of hers were unmistakable, and, finally able to leave her post, Josie rushed into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She knew the drill. Knew how to put her mum in a good mood; June was hopeless without a cup of tea inside her, and a cuppa and the offer of a foot rub was the secret to cheering her up. And she would definitely need cheering up – Josie was pretty definite on that score. She knew how much her mam missed Vinnie and how hard it would have been for her to have to say goodbye to him all over again today.

She swilled out and rinsed the teapot, impatient now to hear all about Vinnie and, more importantly, if there was news of a release date. Since the ‘thing’ she couldn’t bear to think about, she had been pining for her brother badly. Not that she intended telling him – she was clear on that – because that would cause murder, but merely his presence back in her life would be enough. That was all she needed. She’d feel safe again then.

‘Kettle’s on, Mam,’ she called out, when she heard the front door slam. ‘You have a sit down and take your shoes off, I’ll be there now.’

‘Don’t bother!’ came her mother’s barked reply from the hall, causing her growing bubble of excitement to pop. ‘I’m just changing these shoes and then I’m off.’ There was a silence. ‘Where is he? Where’s your dad?’

Josie came out into the hall to see June wriggling her foot out of a shoe and looking at her enquiringly. ‘Already up at the pub, I suppose?’ Josie nodded. ‘Typical! Well, he’d better keep out of my sight or I’ll cause fucking hell up there, I swear!’

Josie’s heart started to bang in her chest. What had happened? Why was her mum in such a mood still? How bad could it have been? She turned back into the kitchen and put down the tea-cup she’d been holding. ‘What’s up, Mam?’ she asked, following her mum back into the living room. ‘What’s happened? How’s our Vinnie? Is he okay?’

June was sitting on the couch struggling to remove her second shoe. She glanced up at Josie, looking livid and then, once she’d finally got the foot free, threw the offending slingback across the floor.

‘Our fucking
Vinnie
,’ she ranted, ‘is not okay, no.’ She jabbed a finger against her temple. ‘Not up here, he’s not.’

Josie gasped. ‘What’s he done, Mam? What’s happened to him?’

‘
Happened
to him? I already told you – he has been his usual stupid fucking self.’

‘Is he hurt?’

June leapt up and stalked past Josie into the hallway. ‘Hurt? He’d have been hurt if they’d’ve let me get my hands on him, believe me. Now can you get out of the way so I can find my other slingbacks? Where the fuck did I – ah, there they are. Who put them there –
you
?’ She stomped back into the living room and sat down heavily on the sofa to put them on.

‘But, Mam, is –’

‘But Mam nothing, girl!’ she snapped. ‘I’m really not in the mood for
you
giving me the third degree. I already told you. Your brother’s been a bad boy. That’s all you need to know – that he’s been a fucking idiot, that he’s not coming home, and probably not for a long time, okay? Now I suggest you piss off out of my sight and let me get ready before they call last fucking orders!’

Josie stared at June, open-mouthed. What was she
saying
? Not coming home for a long time?
Why
? She watched in a daze as June stood up again to reapply her lipstick in the big mirror. ‘But what happened, Mam?’ she dared to asked again. ‘
Was
he fighting? Did he get into trouble? What?’

‘I mean it, Josie,’ she said, pressing her lips together and swivelling the lipstick back down. I’m really not in the mood for 20 questions right now.’

‘But I’ve been waiting,’ Josie said, feeling her own anger rising and her voice with it. ‘Waiting all
day for you
! What’s he
done
? And
when’s
he coming home? That’s all I want to know!’

June swivelled as she was popping the lippy back into her handbag. ‘Don’t you raise your voice to me, madam, you hear me? You best get out of my sight, cos I’m
this
close,’ she squeezed her thumb and her forefinger together and glared at Josie, ‘
this
close to throwing a fit. I’m
fuming
, Titch, so don’t push me any further, okay? Now, I say again, piss off out of my sight before you get a belt!’

Josie had no idea why her mum was in such a filthy mood but she also knew better than to push it when she was like this. She hesitated for a moment more – should she try, even so? But she knew it would be pointless; she’d get no answers, just a clip round the ear. But she wasn’t staying home alone either. Grabbing her jacket from the back of the couch, and with tears springing in her eyes, she fled into the hall and yanked the front door open, shouting out ‘Bleeding cow!’ as she ran off down the street.

She was so upset with her mother that she forgot her most important new rule. She happened to glance across the street and her eyes were instantly drawn to a brightly illuminated upstairs window. Mucky Melvin! He had his grubby makeshift curtain held back and was watching her as she ran by.

Josie yelped and changed direction, feeling a wave of nausea rise in her stomach, running back past her own house and further down the street. She was almost blinded by her tears now but she didn’t care who saw her. She ran for five full minutes, fast enough to make the air rasp in her throat, then, finally spent, she slowed first to a jog and then to a walk, sweat beading on her forehead and hair damp against her neck as she drew up outside the local youth club.

The lights were on. It was one of the club nights and there would be loads of kids in there. She didn’t want to go in though. She never did. She didn’t like a lot of the older kids who went to play pool, but she knew of somewhere else to go in any case.

There was a secret den just down from the back of the youthy; a den that her, Vinnie and a few others had made a couple of years back, deep inside a stand of overgrown shrubs and scraggy trees. They’d sometimes stash stolen stuff there and congregate for meetings. She’d go there, she decided. Yes, it was dark, but she felt safe inside. Hardly anyone knew about it and because there was only one way in and out, no one could sneak up on her there. It was as good a place as any, she decided, setting off towards the building, and definitely better than going back to her shitty home.