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Chapters (90)
  1. Cover
  2. By the same author
  3. SUZY SUZY
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Glossary of Dialect Terms
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. About William Wall
  90. An Invitation from the Publisher

How long are you awake?

I rubbed my eyes to make it realistic and said, I just woke up. What’s up?

John Brown shook his head and looked out the window at the passing fields. My brother indicated suddenly that he was overtaking and pulled right out into the other lane. Suddenly we were passing three cars and an artic. The lorry driver blew his horn like crazy. A car coming towards us swerved onto the hard shoulder. Another car flashed lights. Eventually we were clear but we were still on the wrong side.

For fuck’s sake, John Brown said, pull in, you fucking wanker.

Suddenly my brother let go of the wheel. He put his hands up. The car continued for five seconds in a straight line and then began to curve gently into the far ditch. I was like literally frozen to the seat. I could not move a muscle. Then John grabbed the wheel and guided us to our own side and my brother took over and we were OK again. I don’t know. Maybe we weren’t OK. It’s hard to know. John Brown said, What the fuck was that about? And my brother just shrugged. Will you or won’t you? he said. John Brown said, Since you ask me so nicely.

Whatever it was, it would be bad news.

Anything bad that has ever happened to John Brown happened because of my brother. So I should have stayed quiet, pretended to be asleep. Maybe if I could have known what it was I could have headed him off. Maybe. Idk.

Like I remember my brother daring John Brown to drive a motorbike in a field. He knew and I knew that John could not drive a pedal bike, never mind a motorbike. But John did it. Because John couldn’t say no to my brother. Like every stupid thing he ever did was my brother’s doing. So he took off across the field and he panicked and just kept getting faster. We had to take him to the hospital, me pressing with both hands on his calf where his skin was shredded. He bled all over the back seat. He never said a word only gave me a look that said, How stupid am I? Or maybe it said, Your brother is a complete dickhead. Possibly THE complete dickhead. They gave him eleven stitches and some debriding, whatever that is. They also gave him a local anaesthetic which wore off on the way home. That was not fun.

12

So I was at home one evening and my brother got a text. It was from a friend. He read it and went pale.

Fuck, he said.

What’s wrong? my mam said.

Nigger is dead.

I burst into tears. My mother stared at him. My father said, How did it happen?

They pulled his body out of the river.