Read Online Jago by Kim Newman - Free Book Online Page A

because it was even more boring at home. Dad was off working for Old Man Maskell, and Mum just wanted to watch soap serials or quiz programmes on the telly. This summer, Teddy was waiting for his exam results. His teachers said he’d have no trouble getting into college. Terry had left school as soon as he could and never taken exams. Even the army wouldn’t take him, and the farmers all knew enough about him to give him only seasonal work. He got his booze, fag and rubber-johnny money from under-the-counter jobs.
    ‘We’ll be there in five minutes,’ Terry said, pushing into the undergrowth, Teddy unenthusiastically at his heels. As it turned out, the one thing that thrived on this year’s weather was the common bramble. The footpath was clogged with a tangle of vegetable barbed wire. ‘C’mon, thicko,’ his brother ordered.
    Teddy had tried to be as mean and stupid as Terry, but couldn’t carry it off. He got interested in his lessons and was pleased when he did well. Most of the things Terry and his mates did or wanted to do struck Teddy as being boring as well as stupid. Terry sometimes said he could set Teddy up with Sharon, and that wouldn’t be boring. Teddy did not doubt it. The problem was talking to her before and afterwards. Secretly, Teddy still fancied Jenny Steyning. No one had seen much of her since she got religion.
    Finally, after much scratching, they reached the Agapemone property, only to find a recently reinforced hedge too high to climb and too thick to breach. With some ill feeling, Terry let them give up and double back to the road. By the time they arrived, the meeting had started. On a dead patch of grass just by the Gate House, about twenty teenagers from Alder and the surrounding villages were sitting, cross-legged or sprawled out, paying attention as James Lytton addressed them. They were mostly lads, with two or three girls mixed in.
    The man from the Agapemone paced, ticked off points on his fingers, repeated himself to add emphases, and made pointed jokes as if explaining the ins and outs of the D-Day landings to a roomful of army officers. He sounded like someone from a war film as well, his accent not really posh but not normal either.
    Everyone else had cans of beer. James had laid on refreshments for the meeting, but they had run out before Teddy and Terry got there. Terry took this badly, and thumped his brother’s arm to establish whose fault it was.
    ‘Settle down at the back there,’ said James, like a teacher.
    Terry unshouldered his gun and squatted in sullen silence near Kevin Conway and Gary Chilcot, and Teddy had to take some ground near Allison, Kev’s creepy, skinny sister. At primary school, Allison had bullied all the boys and, once or twice, had slapped Teddy until he cried. Now, she had long black hair, big black eyes and a worse reputation than any boy in the village. Terry said Allison fancied Teddy, and would torment him with it. Allison crept into his nightmares sometimes.
    ‘What have we missed?’ asked Teddy.
    ‘Nothing,’ said Kev. ‘Same speech as last year.’
    ‘Would the neanderthals who’ve just discovered the power of speech kindly refrain from using it while I get through this, please? Then we can all get in the pub earlier.’
    A beery cheer went up, and everybody looked dangerously at Teddy and Terry.
    ‘Thank you very much,’ James said. ‘Now, back to the agenda. Item nine: the weapons policy. By now, you should know this one. There are a lot of dickheads in this world, and plenty of them turn up here with nothing better to do than make trouble. We try to weed them out, but we can’t eliminate them altogether. What we can do is ensure they aren’t lugging any heavy artillery. Look for knives, baseball bats, suspiciously sturdy walking sticks, catapults et cetera. We’ve never had hassles with firearms or crossbows before, but be on the lookout. There’s always a first time. No one turned up with a stun gun until last year. There