supermarket, but there was a van in the car park – a beige- and oatmeal-coloured Bambi camper with a sheet draped over the side of it. On the sheet someone had painted something in red paint or thick marker, and there were several men with scarves wrapped around their faces standing around admiring it. One of them looked in our direction. Carl put his foot down and we were on our way back towards the City.
‘Who were they?’ I asked. I felt sick.
‘Group of lads getting together to go through the woods, bus station, places like that. Looking for this pest.’ Carl laughed, and looked at me in the rear-view mirror. ‘Think they can do a better job than the police – slipping about on the ice all tooled up with potato peelers and bike chains.’
‘They’re a vigilante group,’ Chloe said knowledgeably. ‘Someone asked my dad if he wanted to be in it. Fathers only. He said he wasn’t sure if it was mob mentality or grassroots action. My mum went to one of their meetings and said they were a load of council-dossers and doleys.’
‘Your dad not going in on it?’ Carl said, and I looked away from the mirror and shook my head.
‘There’s some tea in the fridge for you, Lo.’
The house was overwhelmingly hot after outside, and it smelled of turkey and pine needles and Donald’s feet. That special Sunday dinner and Christmas smell. I used to really like it.
‘I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed,’ I shouted from the doorway, trying to get up the stairs before they could come out of the living room and grill me.
‘Bed? Bed?’ Barbara managed to get to the bottom of the stairs before I could cross the upstairs landing and get into the bathroom. ‘You can’t go to bed. It’s barely four o’clock. Come and have some cheese and crackers and watch the film with your father.’
‘I’m really tired.’
Barbara stared up into the dim hollow of the upstairs landing. I couldn’t hear much from the living room, but I bet it was It’s a Wonderful Life they were watching. You could practically guarantee it.
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘No. No, I haven’t.’ She carried on staring. ‘I haven’t. Smell my breath if you want.’
‘And you’ve not had another falling out with that Chloe, have you?’ Barbara took a step and put her hand on the immaculate cream receiver of the hall telephone. ‘I was hoping you were going to start seeing a bit less of her. Shall I call her mother?’
‘I’m just tired. I’m going to have a sleep. I’ll be back down in a bit, right? I’ll watch the end of the film with you later.’
Even I could hear it: my voice, thin and pleading. It wasn’t a lie. I really was very tired – although there was something else to it too, the way that those men in the car park might have been wearing their scarves over their faces because it was cold, but there was another reason. I thought of them crashing through the undergrowth, shouting into the stillness of the woods, and shivered.
‘Leave her alone, Barbara. She says she’s wanting her bed.’
Donald’s voice rumbled around the open living room door. I could imagine him sitting there with the remote control and a jar of pickled onions. A bottle of Newkie Brown and a glass between his feet.
‘He’s waiting for you,’ I said. ‘You’d better go in to him.’
When I opened my eyes someone had turned my bedroom light off and pulled the duvet up to my chin. I was roasting and I think that’s what woke me up. I looked around me. If I’d gone back to sleep that second I wouldn’t have remembered anything about waking up at all. It’s a fact, that – people wake up ten times in the night, on average, but as long as you surface for less than three minutes you never remember it.
That night I woke up worrying. It was dark. I could hear the telly downstairs and Barbara laughing every now and again.
I used to get sent to bed after my tea as a punishment when I was little. I would get out of bed and lie on
‘Who were they?’ I asked. I felt sick.
‘Group of lads getting together to go through the woods, bus station, places like that. Looking for this pest.’ Carl laughed, and looked at me in the rear-view mirror. ‘Think they can do a better job than the police – slipping about on the ice all tooled up with potato peelers and bike chains.’
‘They’re a vigilante group,’ Chloe said knowledgeably. ‘Someone asked my dad if he wanted to be in it. Fathers only. He said he wasn’t sure if it was mob mentality or grassroots action. My mum went to one of their meetings and said they were a load of council-dossers and doleys.’
‘Your dad not going in on it?’ Carl said, and I looked away from the mirror and shook my head.
‘There’s some tea in the fridge for you, Lo.’
The house was overwhelmingly hot after outside, and it smelled of turkey and pine needles and Donald’s feet. That special Sunday dinner and Christmas smell. I used to really like it.
‘I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed,’ I shouted from the doorway, trying to get up the stairs before they could come out of the living room and grill me.
‘Bed? Bed?’ Barbara managed to get to the bottom of the stairs before I could cross the upstairs landing and get into the bathroom. ‘You can’t go to bed. It’s barely four o’clock. Come and have some cheese and crackers and watch the film with your father.’
‘I’m really tired.’
Barbara stared up into the dim hollow of the upstairs landing. I couldn’t hear much from the living room, but I bet it was It’s a Wonderful Life they were watching. You could practically guarantee it.
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘No. No, I haven’t.’ She carried on staring. ‘I haven’t. Smell my breath if you want.’
‘And you’ve not had another falling out with that Chloe, have you?’ Barbara took a step and put her hand on the immaculate cream receiver of the hall telephone. ‘I was hoping you were going to start seeing a bit less of her. Shall I call her mother?’
‘I’m just tired. I’m going to have a sleep. I’ll be back down in a bit, right? I’ll watch the end of the film with you later.’
Even I could hear it: my voice, thin and pleading. It wasn’t a lie. I really was very tired – although there was something else to it too, the way that those men in the car park might have been wearing their scarves over their faces because it was cold, but there was another reason. I thought of them crashing through the undergrowth, shouting into the stillness of the woods, and shivered.
‘Leave her alone, Barbara. She says she’s wanting her bed.’
Donald’s voice rumbled around the open living room door. I could imagine him sitting there with the remote control and a jar of pickled onions. A bottle of Newkie Brown and a glass between his feet.
‘He’s waiting for you,’ I said. ‘You’d better go in to him.’
When I opened my eyes someone had turned my bedroom light off and pulled the duvet up to my chin. I was roasting and I think that’s what woke me up. I looked around me. If I’d gone back to sleep that second I wouldn’t have remembered anything about waking up at all. It’s a fact, that – people wake up ten times in the night, on average, but as long as you surface for less than three minutes you never remember it.
That night I woke up worrying. It was dark. I could hear the telly downstairs and Barbara laughing every now and again.
I used to get sent to bed after my tea as a punishment when I was little. I would get out of bed and lie on
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