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
Vince filled the kettle and put the chocolate powder in a mug, while Brookie sat staring at the table. He wasn’t sure whether to be worried or scared or nothing. Their dad never ever hit them, he never had, though he yelled and bellowed and chucked things at them all the time. He put out their food and yelled at them to come and eat it, shouted at them to get in the bath, get their clothes off the floor, get upstairs, get downstairs, get out, get to school, get from under his feet, stop making such a bloody racket.
‘Here. Don’t just drink it, numpty, it’s boiling, stir it.’ He put sugar in a mug of tea while watching Brooklyn.
‘You going to tell me or what?’
Brookie stirred and watched the beige-coloured bubbles swirl round and round like soapsuds.
‘Where did you get this bloody phone? You’ve got no money, it’s not been your birthday, Christmas came and went. How long have you had it?’
Brookie shrugged.
‘Come on – how long have you had it? A day, a week? A month?’
‘Not as long as that.’
‘Getting somewhere at last, somewhere but not far enough. Listen, kiddo . . . something’s gone on, and you know what it is, and we can sit here all night far as I’m concerned.’
‘Dad . . . you know my bed?’
‘What about it?’
‘Only the springs are all poking through the holes in the mattress and they stick in me, I can’t make them stay back.’
‘We’re talking about this phone.’
‘Just saying. Only I thought maybe you didn’t know about it.’
‘I’ve got to sort a lot of things out, Brookie, I do my best. You not happy?’
Brookie looked at the floor. ‘I’m all right.’
‘You’re a lot better off with me than with your mother, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Suppose.’
‘Do you remember what it was like with her? Maybe you don’t.’
‘A bit. I’m all right. I need to go to bed now.’
‘You need to tell me where this phone came from first. Quicker you do, quicker you’ll be up there. Come on, I wasn’t born yesterday. You nicked it.’
‘No! I swear to God I never nicked it. I never nick anything, only get stuff off skips and that’s not nicking.’
‘You didn’t get this off a skip.’
His dad stood up suddenly and leaned over him. He was big. He wasn’t a bouncer and a security man for nothing. Brookie shrank back.
‘Listen to me, Brooklyn – you tell me where you got it now or I’ll turn your neck round 180 degrees.’ He held his hands out. Big hands. ‘Now, let’s start counting. One . . . two . . .’
‘Fats.’ He shouted the name.
‘What do you mean, fats? What’s fats?’