My Dad's a Policeman Page 4

  I heard the Old Bills’ footsteps draw closer, then their voices, close but muffled by the alleyways between us. My heart pounded. The pair of policemen came closer still, but before they came to where I was hiding their footsteps stopped, then began to fade away. I stayed where I was, straining my ears for any sound of them returning. I waited for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only fifteen minutes. Then I heard their car’s siren as they left the estate.

  * * *

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I was safe for the time being, but very, very cold. I couldn’t stay the night where I was – I’d freeze to death. And I obviously couldn’t go home – the police had said the parents’ home was the first place they looked for runaways. I decided now was a good time to call in a favour from my best mate, Wayne. Wayne owed me. I’d helped him a few times recently when his dad had arrived home drunk, threatening to beat him up. Now Wayne could help me out.

  My hands shook from cold as I took my mobile from my pocket and opened it. The screen lit up. Thank God, I thought – at least it was charged – but I knew there was only enough credit left for a couple of texts. Like most kids my age I can usually text very quickly – with one hand and not looking at the keys. But now – with my fingers so cold – it took both hands and all my concentration to tap in the message to Wayne: In big trouble. Need u 2 hide me. B there in 5. I pressed the send button. Wayne would know what I meant. The message was the same as the one he’d sent me when he had to escape his father and come and stay at my house for the night (without my mum knowing).

  With my mobile in my lap, I sat huddled in the corner behind the wheelie bins, my jacket pulled up around my ears, and waited. I knew Wayne would have his phone on. Everyone I know sleeps with their mobiles. Wayne and me often text each other in the middle of the night. I just hoped he’d hear the text arrive.

  A couple of minutes passed and I was about to send the text again when my phone bleeped. I opened it and the screen lit up. It was a text from Wayne: Sure man. C u in 5. Wayne calls everyone ‘man’. ‘Thanks, man,’ I said under my breath. I returned the phone to my jacket pocket, blew warm air into my hands and stood up.

  Wayne’s house is on the other side of the estate. By the time I got there he’d have crept downstairs and be waiting by the back door, just as I had done for him. Now the police were no longer chasing me I didn’t use the alleys, but walked in the road, watching and listening for their return. The alleys are not the place to be late at night, as drug pushers, perverts and psychos hang out in the shadows. Last year a woman was murdered in one of the alleys late at night. People heard her screaming but were too scared to go and investigate. You don’t have Neighbourhood Watch on our estate.

  Wayne was waiting for me and he opened the back door as I approached.

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ I said as I stepped in. He was dressed for bed in his pants and T-shirt.

  ‘You’re welcome, man,’ he whispered, and put his finger to his lips, signalling his dad was asleep upstairs.

  His dad’s a great fat brute and I certainly didn’t want to meet him now. Wayne quietly closed and locked the back door; then I followed him silently up the stairs. The only light came from the street lamp outside but I knew Wayne’s house well; we’d been mates for years and I hung out there when we bunked off school. We crept into his bedroom and he quietly closed the door. A small bedside lamp in the shape of a spaceship which he’d had as a kid was beside his bed. Wayne’s room is heaps better than mine: his mum did it up a couple of years ago, just before she cleared off.

  ‘What happened, then, man?’ Wayne asked as we perched on the edge of his bed.

  ‘Social took me and Tommy into care, but they sent us to different foster carers, so I legged it.’ I decided not to tell him about the police being involved in case it spooked him. Wayne had been in trouble with the police before and I knew he didn’t want any more bother with them.

  ‘That’s bad, man, real bad to split you up,’ he said, sympathising. ‘Hey, man, you hungry?’ which is what I always asked him when he came to my house.

  ‘Sort of,’ I said.

  He reached under the bed and pulled out an Asda carrier bag, full of crisps, biscuits, cans of fizzy drinks and other junk food. I had a similar bag under my own bed. It was an emergency supply for when there was no other food in the house. I topped it up when Mum had some money, or if she didn’t I’m afraid to say I nicked the stuff from the shop.

  I chose a couple of packets of crisps and a can of drink from the bag, and Wayne did the same. We munched, slurped, burped and chatted – about social services taking me from school, my mum, his dad and where his mum could be. He hadn’t even had a text from her since she’d run off with some bloke at work about two years before, leaving Wayne and his older sister with their drunken pig of a father. There was gossip on the estate that Wayne’s father had caught up with her and done her in. It was possible: he was an evil shit. Wayne’s sister has to keep her bedroom door locked at night so he can’t get in.

  It was nearly 3.00 a.m. when Wayne finally yawned and said: ‘Hey, man, I’m knackered. Let’s sleep.’

  I nodded. I had hoped my mum might have phoned or texted, but I guess she was past doing either of those by now with all the drink. I didn’t have enough credit to phone her and there was no point anyway if she was unconscious. I decide to send her a text so she’d find it when she woke: Look after urself, I’m fine, luv Ryan xxx. I wasn’t going to tell her where I was in case the police asked her; Mum can’t lie to save her life.

  I took off my trainers, jacket and trousers, keeping on my pants, T-shirt and socks, and climbed into bed beside Wayne. This was how we always slept when he came to my house. There wasn’t much room in his single bed but it was warm and comfortable. Feeling my best mate beside me after everything that had happened was reassuring. We lay flat on our backs, sides touching, and stared at the ceiling for a while.

  ‘I’m butchered,’ Wayne said, yawning again. He reached out and switched off the bedside light. ‘Night, man. Fart and you’re dead.’

  I laughed. ‘Night, and thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome, man. What you gonna do in the morning?’

  ‘Find Tommy.’

  ‘Cool, man. Don’t oversleep. I need you out of here before my old man’s up or we’ll both catch it.’

  Chapter Eight

  There was no chance of oversleeping. It seemed I’d just dropped off when I was woken by a loud noise. I reached under my end of the pillow for my phone and saw it was 6.20 a.m. I lay very still and listened. Wayne was fast asleep and breathing regularly beside me. The noise came again, louder this time. Then I realised with a jolt it was Wayne’s old man on the bog. Their bathroom’s next door to Wayne’s bedroom but he could have been sitting right next to me for all the noise he was making, shitting and farting after a night on the booze. It was disgusting! Wayne slept on. I guess he was used to it, as well as the smell that seeped under the door. I heard the bog roll unravel at 100 miles an hour, then the bog flush and the bathroom door open. The dirty pig hadn’t washed his hands! More worrying were his footsteps, going downstairs.

  ‘Hey, wake up,’ I hissed in Wayne’s ear, poking him in the ribs. ‘Your old man’s up and it’s only six thirty.’

  Wayne groaned and opened one eye. ‘Don’t worry, man,’ he mumbled. ‘He’ll go back to his room with his tea. You can get out then.’

  We lay side by side on our backs again, me wide awake and Wayne slowly surfacing, as the noises of Wayne’s old man making tea floated up from downstairs. The walls in these houses are so thin you can hear everything, and I mean everything. Wayne’s old man is a big clumsy slob who lumbers rather than walks, so the noise he makes is amplified. I felt like Jack hiding from the giant in ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ as I lay still and listened.

  I heard Wayne’s dad turn on the tap to fill the kettle, open a cupboard door and then set down a mug on the kitchen work surface. He did it with so much force it’s a wonder the p
ottery didn’t smash. It went quiet and I guessed he was pouring boiling water on to the tea bag. Then we heard him lumbering up the stairs and his bedroom slam shut.

  ‘You’ve got until seven,’ Wayne said. ‘Then he comes to wake me.’

  That was enough for me. I was out of bed so fast that my head span. I had on my trousers, shirt and jacket, and was stuffing my feet into my trainers, before Wayne had clambered out of bed.

  ‘I’ll see you out, man,’ Wayne said, standing and scratching his balls unattractively. ‘Good luck with finding Tommy.’

  ‘Thanks.’ It was then I realised I still didn’t have any money. ‘You couldn’t lend me a tenner, could you?’ I knew I was asking a lot; I couldn’t have lent him money, but then he’d never asked.

  ‘Sure, man,’ he said easily. ‘No problem.’ I watched as he reached under the corner of his mattress and brought out a wad of £5 notes. There must have been over fifty quid there and I gasped in amazement.

  ‘Where d’you get that?’ I asked, feeling that perhaps it was better I didn’t know.

  ‘From the old man’s trouser pocket, when he passes out. It’s what keeps sis and me going. He don’t give us anything.’

  Impressed by Wayne’s courage – nicking from his dad whilst he lay drunk – I accepted the two £5 notes. I wondered briefly why Wayne and his sister hadn’t been taken into care, for it seemed as though their lives were as bad, if not worse, than Tommy’s and mine. Perhaps social services didn’t know about them, or perhaps they were too scared to confront Wayne’s dad? Whatever, Wayne seemed to have the situation under control.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, really grateful. ‘I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.’

  ‘You already have, man. All the nights you put me up. Now for fuck’s sake, be quiet when you go or we’ll both get it.’

  I followed him to the bedroom door and he slowly, silently, opened it. He paused and we listened to the sounds coming from his old man’s room across the landing. The floorboards were creaking as he moved around, presumably getting dressed. Wayne signalled for me to go forwards. I tiptoed after him as he went down the stairs and to the back door. He silently turned the key and let me out.

  ‘Take care, man,’ he whispered, and closed the door behind me.

  With money in my pocket and a plan of action I was now feeling pretty positive, better than I’d felt last night. First I’d walk to McDonald’s in town and get myself a big breakfast – £1.99. It would be warm in McDonald’s and I could stay as long as I liked. Then I’d put £5 on my phone and text Mum to tell her I was OK, before I went to rescue Tommy. I’d go to his school and snatch him from the playground at morning break.

  What would happen after that, I wasn’t exactly sure. But it would go something like this: Tommy and me would hitch a lift to the port at Dover and sneak on board a ferry going somewhere hot and sunny faraway. Wherever we landed I’d get a job and support Tommy and me. Then when we’d make our fortunes. When we were adults and couldn’t be put into care, we’d come home to Mum and live happily every after. Obviously the plan needed fine-tuning, but it sounded good to me.

  The early morning air was cold but – walking fast and with the promise of a McDonald’s breakfast and sunnier climes to come – it didn’t seem so bad. The February sky was beginning to lighten and, at 7.30, I passed a newsagent that was open for the paperboys to deliver newspapers. I went in and bought £5-worth of phone credit. It wasn’t a shop I’d been in much before and the owner didn’t know me, so if he wondered why I was out so early he didn’t say.

  Quarter of an hour later I stepped into the bright lights and warmth of McDonald’s. There weren’t many customers at this time, just a few workers stopping off for breakfast. I ordered the Big Breakfast, which came with a hot drink – I chose hot chocolate – and I took it to a corner seat well away from the window, which looked out over the High Street. As I ate, I loaded the credit on to my phone and texted Mum. She hadn’t replied to the text I’d sent last night and I was getting worried. R u ok? Txt me. Luv Ryan xxx. She texted back almost immediately: Yes, where r u? I texted back: Can’t say but safe xxx. She didn’t reply and I hoped I hadn’t worried her and made her reach for the bottle.

  I returned my phone to my jacket pocket and finished my breakfast. I could have eaten it all again easily but that wasn’t an option. Having spent £5 on phone credit and £1.99 on the breakfast, I had £3.01 left, and I needed that for later. I hadn’t brushed my teeth or washed since yesterday morning and I was beginning to feel dirty. One thing Mum always insisted on, no matter how rubbish our clothes were, was that Tommy and me always brushed our teeth and washed at least once a day, but there was no chance of that right now.

  The restaurant was very warm and, now I’d eaten, I was starting to feel more relaxed and a bit sleepy. There was an hour to go before the second part of my plan – rescuing Tommy – could begin. I folded my arms on the table and put my head down. I closed my eyes and must have dropped off without realising it, for suddenly I was woken by a hand on my shoulder shaking me. I looked up to see a McDonald’s worker clearing the table.

  ‘Time for school,’ he said, trying to be clever. I checked the clock on the wall: it was exactly nine o’clock. I stood up and, before I left, I went downstairs to the toilets for a pee and a wash. I splashed warm water over my face and rubbed my finger over my teeth, then dried my hands on the hot-air dryer.

  Outside, the High Street had come alive since I’d entered McDonald’s. Shops were opening and cars and buses crawled up the road in a steady procession. I didn’t want to waste money on bus fare, and I still had plenty of time before the next part of my plan, so I decided to walk to Tommy’s school. I guessed it was about a mile and half. It’s the primary school I went to, so I knew it well. I knew the layout of the building and the routine of the day. I knew which class Tommy was in, and I knew there was a place you could stand – just outside a window – where you could see the kids. They could see you but the teacher couldn’t, as long as you were careful. Wayne and me had gone there at the start of term and made faces at the kids through the window until the teacher turned quickly and saw us.

  As I walked, I pictured me standing there and Tommy looking up and seeing me. I saw the look of surprise on his face, which would then turn to relief. I could imagine his little face lighting up with happiness as it dawned on him that his big brother had come to rescue him and I gestured to him to meet me by the playground at morning break. I’d chatted to him there when I’d bunked off school before.

  Yes, I had it all planned out, and could picture it. Morning break was at 10.20, in an hour’s time.

  What I hadn’t planned for, or pictured, was Tommy’s reaction when I explained our escape!

  ‘I’m not going,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘What are you talking about, Tommy?’ I said. ‘Of course you want to come.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ my little brother said, his face up against the wire netting. ‘I like it at Mary’s. She doesn’t get drunk.’

  ‘We’re not going back to Mum’s,’ I hissed. ‘We’re going on a boat to another country. I’m going to look after you.’

  I saw I had his attention now and that of the other kids who were with him. ‘Where?’ Tommy asked. ‘Where you gonna take me? You haven’t got money.’

  ‘I have,’ I said. ‘Look.’ Delving into my pocket I pulled out the three £1 coins I’d had as change from my McDonald’s.

  ‘That ain’t much,’ some smart-arse kid standing next to him said. ‘I get more than that as pocket money every week.’

  ‘I’m not talking to you,’ I snapped. ‘Go and play.’ I was keeping one eye on the dinner ladies. I knew it wouldn’t be long before one of them spotted me and came over to find out what I was doing.

  ‘Tommy, listen to me,’ I said anxiously. ‘This is what we’re going to do. In a minute I want you to go and tell one of the dinner ladies that I have something to give you. T
hen when she comes and unlocks the gate you grab my hand and we’ll make a run for it. You will have to run very fast. Do you understand?’ I knew the dinner lady wouldn’t be able to leave the other children and come after us. She’d have to go back inside and raise the alarm, by which time we’d be on our way.

  Tommy was staring at me, his large brown eyes even wider than ever, like flying saucers. He’s such a cute-looking kid.

  ‘Then what?’ Smart-arse said. ‘What you going to do then?’

  ‘Yeah, what you gonna do then?’ Tommy repeated.

  ‘We’ll hide until the police stop looking for us,’ I said. ‘Then we’ll get a lift in a lorry to the boat. Once we’re on the boat we’ll be safe.’

  Smart-arse had gone quiet now, clearly impressed by the mention of police, lorry and boat. More impressed than Tommy was.

  ‘Na,’ Tommy said, having thought about it. ‘I’ll stay at Mary’s. She gives me loads to eat and I can play with her son, Andrew. He’s five, same as me, and he’s nice to me.’

  ‘I’m nice to you,’ I said, feeling hurt. I decided to change my approach and appeal to Tommy’s feelings. I hadn’t got long to put my plan into action: once the whistle blew for the end of break Tommy would be back inside the building until the lunch playtime.

  ‘Tommy,’ I said, lowering myself to his height and putting my mouth closer to the wire netting. ‘I love you, and Mum loves you, but she can’t look after us right now. She’s upset that we’re not together. I’m going to look after you until she’s better. I miss you, Tommy. Don’t you miss me?’