Chapters (60)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Other books by James Goodhand
- Dedication
- Four’s a Crowd
- That Friday Feeling
- Work
- Customer Service
- Starting Over
- Sweet Seventeen
- Burn, Baby, Burn
- A Turn
- Go-Between
- Joyride
- In
- Not a Date
- Taken Down
- Killing Time
- Reality
- The Long Wait
- The Other Side
- Dropping In
- In the Dark
- Blind Alley
- Showtime
- Straight Through
- What Develops
- Last Lesson
- House of Horrors
- Room with a View
- Party’s Over
- At Sea
- Fireworks
- The Turning of Tables
- Home Time
- Our Little Chats
- Out of the Blue?
- No Capes
- Holding On
- Salvage
- The End
- On a Promise
- Disco Inferno
- Lockdown
- Will Parks’ Big Moment
- The Calm
- Last Request
- The Storm
- All Change
- A Narrow Escape
- An Inconvenient Delay
- No More Fighting
- Level Crossing
- The Beginning
- Acknowledgements
- Resources
- Read more
- Read more
- 5.11 a.m.
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
He’s about to start walking again when he sees his phone in the weeds, ejected from his pocket when he jumped. He picks it up and polishes it against his hoodie. The lock screen reveals eight missed calls and five texts. Every message and call is from the same person.
‘Not now, Parks,’ Alfie mumbles. But, again, there’s the almost-smile.
Their friendship has been a welcome distraction these past couple of months. Alfie has enjoyed how Will sees him, how he buys the act so completely. He smirks, thinking of the hour they wasted the other day debating whether a vegan is still a vegan if nobody knows. He feels a rare warmth recalling Will’s relish when he taught him how to sneak stuff through the supermarket self-checkout, to then deposit the goods in the food bank collection on the way out, like a game laid on for them. He thinks about Will’s laughter when he went up to the bar at Smugglers, returning with a pint of lager for Will and a schooner of sherry for himself. ‘Just fancied something sweet,’ he’d told a creased-up Will.
He looks down at his phone again. He doesn’t unlock it. What good would it do now? No friendly words are going to make any difference. For a mate to be any use now, there’d have to be just one or two problems to fix. Things would have to be solvable. Alfie’s so far past that now.
The light of the screen dims; Will’s name fades to black. ‘Only end up letting you down, cuz,’ Alfie says. ‘It’s what I do.’
He scrambles up the embankment, listening carefully for trains this time. He places the phone on one of the rails, ready for the next express. And he moves on. Not far now.
There’s a popularly held misconception about drug dealers: that they all make loads of money. Sure, somewhere up the hierarchy somebody’s getting rich. Maybe the guy who sells the gear to the guy who sells it to Alfie. Maybe the person above him. For Alfie, it was certainly no ticket out of Patten’s Island, just another hustle to keep his brothers and sisters in the comfort he’d not had. The margins were small but the company and the clientele made it fun.