BooksBarbecue
Back The Hollows
Chapters (77)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Dedication
  5. PART I
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. PART II
  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. PART III
  44. 37.
  45. 38.
  46. 39.
  47. 40.
  48. 41.
  49. 42.
  50. 43.
  51. 44.
  52. 45.
  53. 46.
  54. 47.
  55. 48.
  56. 49.
  57. 50.
  58. 51.
  59. 52.
  60. 53.
  61. 54.
  62. 55.
  63. 56.
  64. 57.
  65. 58.
  66. 59.
  67. 60.
  68. 61.
  69. 62.
  70. 63.
  71. 64.
  72. 65.
  73. PART IV
  74. 66.
  75. 67.
  76. 68.
  77. Acknowledgements

The police had taken Charlotte away, so Paul couldn’t do it to her. But Jess knew him; he’d want to do it tonight. Keira’d scratch his eyes out if he tried anything with her, and if there was anything left of him afterward Frank would stomp him into the floor. Never mind that Mum would have his hide for it. But Jess was different. No good to anyone – she’d heard Mum say that out loud. Frank had been nice to her when they were younger. Even looked out for her with Paul. But not now. He didn’t give a shit. Dom – she wasn’t even sure how much Dom understood. She wouldn’t have thought he understood anything, but then everyone thought that about her.

Like the Family Bible. Jess’d taken a look in there, when Mum’d had her fetch and carry it back and forth. She’d seen the pictures of Them. She knew what it was about. Some of it anyway.

She knew what was coming.

“And if that golden ring turns brass,” sang Paul,

“Uncle Paul’ll get a black girl with a nice tight ass,

And if that black girl goes on the run,

Uncle Paul’ll make do with your Mum...”

Jess shrank back.

Outside the door, Paul laughed. “Don’t worry, Jess,” he said. “I’m not coming in.” He waited a moment. “Not unless you invite me.”

Did that mean he’d given up? She waited to hear his footsteps creak away along the landing. But there was no sound.

“You’re getting better at hiding that book of yours,” he said. “Had a job finding it.”

She was still.

“I did find it, though.”

No. No, not that, not again. She scrambled across the room to where the chest of drawers had been. Pain pricked her under one fingernail from a splinter as she pried up the board she’d loosened. The plastic bag she’d wrapped the book in was still there, but it was empty. Her book was gone, and all her boys with it. Boys with warm smiles and smooth skin, kind dark eyes or bright blue ones. Boys who’d have taken her to bed because she’d wanted them to and only then. Boys who’d be nice to her. The kind of boys she had to clip out of magazines, because they could only exist in dreams for a girl like her.

Boys like Andy.

Andy’d been a mate of Paul’s dealer, Degs. Turned up at the house with him sometimes, when it was summer, go and smoke some draw with him and Paul out in Thursdale. He’d looked nice. Come from a nice home. Clean, smooth skin and long hair. Like the boys in her scrapbook.