Chapters (67)
- Cover
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
‘Right, I just wish I could move faster. I’m off to get this show on the road and then I’ve got a meeting with the Commissioner.’
‘Bad luck. On what planet were the government when they thought PCCs were a good idea? Not to mention, why are they voted in not appointed so that we get lumbered with dolts like Axby?’
‘I didn’t hear that. Oh, and Cat messsged . . . Wookie is having surgery, and according to the vet, his life hangs by a thread.’
Twenty-Seven
Brooklyn had been almost asleep when he remembered, and sat up. Connor was talking in his sleep as usual, Alfie was turning and twisting about.
He had left the phone downstairs, in his bag or maybe in his pocket. Either way he needed to get it, because messages had started coming in during the night.
Hi Brookie.
You awake?
Do you want an Xbox? I got one for you.
What you playing at, Brookie? Don’t want trouble, do you?
He wished he didn’t have the phone, he wanted to give it back, only he hadn’t seen Fats to do that. He slithered out of bed, avoiding the protruding springs, stepped over Alfie’s outstretched leg and went down. His bag was at the foot of the stairs but the phone wasn’t in it. His jacket wasn’t in the pile, or under the other bags, and though he didn’t remember hanging it up, maybe he had.
The hall light snapped on. ‘You looking for this?’
Brookie swore his heart actually stopped. What was Dad doing back when it was the middle of his shift? He was standing in the kitchen doorway with the phone in his hand.
‘Get in here.’
There was a bowl with tomato soup in it, tin on the table.
‘What are you at home for?’
‘Never mind me.’ His dad held the phone up again. ‘Where’d you get this?’
‘Found it.’
‘Where?’
‘In a skip.’
‘What skip?’
‘Outside a house.’
‘What house?’
His head went to mush, he couldn’t think of any street names at all, not in Starly, not anywhere.
‘Sit down.’
He couldn’t work out what his dad was like, raging mad, cold mad, puzzled or just fed up with him.
‘Whose is it, Brookie?’ He tapped the phone screen. ‘And don’t say “Dunno”.’
But he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
‘Come here . . . sit down. You want a drink? I got some of those packets of hot chocolate.’
Brookie nodded.
‘Sorry? Must be going deaf here.’
‘Yes please.’
‘Better.’