In the Bag (21 page)

‘Has he been drinking?’ the officer says to me. ‘How old is he?’

I don’t say anything cos I don’t know what to say.

Ash steps forward unsteadily. ‘I’m twenty-one,’ he says. ‘At least.’ And he laughs.

The policeman just stares at him. ‘Don’t be cheeky, son,’ he says. Then he turns to me. ‘Get him home now. If we see you out here again tonight, we’ll put you in the car. Understand?’

I nod my head. I start walking, nudge Ash in the side to get him moving. The police car sits by the side of the road, watching us till we’re on our way. Then I hear the engine rev as it moves off.

We walk most of the way in silence. A couple of cars go by, but that’s about it. We turn off the main road and get to the top of Ash’s road. He stops and stares down it.

‘See you, Ash.’

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. He just stands there, staring towards his house.

‘Ash?’

He’s wordless, motionless. Maybe I’m gonna have to walk him right to his door.

‘What’s up, Ash?’

He turns round slowly. He has a really weird look on his face. ‘Can I sleep at yours?’

I look at him, confused. ‘What? Why?’

He looks down at the ground. ‘I don’t want to go home.’

Mum and Dad’ll go mad if I bring him back now, at ten past ten. Ten minutes after I’m meant to be back.

‘What do you mean, you don’t want to go home?’

Ash shrugs. ‘Don’t want to talk about it.’

I sigh. He looks desperate. But I can’t take him to mine. ‘You can’t,’ I say. ‘My mum and dad wouldn’t let me.’

Ash spins round on his heels. He kicks out at the pavement and a load of little stones scatter across the tarmac. ‘Fuck!’ he shouts.

‘Sorry, Ash.’

He looks at me. It looks like there’s a tear in the corner of his eye. I’ve never seen Ash cry before. Not even when he was little.

‘If I go home now, I’ll . . .’ he says. He’s all hunched up and mad as hell.

‘What?’

Ash breathes out really slowly. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t answer.

‘What’s the matter, Ash?’

In a fraction of a second he turns to me, a frightening look in his eyes. ‘Right now, I want to kill my dad,’ he says. ‘If I get home and see him now, I’ll do it, I swear.’

I stare back at him, expecting his face to break into a smile, a laugh. But it doesn’t. He looks serious. He looks like he means it.

‘Look, Ash, I’m going home now,’ I say. ‘I’m s’posed to be home already.’

Ash sighs. He looks at me, his eyes pleading. ‘Please,’ he says. ‘I can’t go home.’

And I don’t know what to do. I know Mum and Dad will just take him back to his place if they see him, but I don’t want to leave him here. ‘Come on,’ I say.

Ash smiles for a millisecond. And then the smile is gone.

‘I’m not promising anything,’ I say.

The lights are on at my house. I can see the glow through the drawn curtains. I stop on the pavement outside and turn to Ash.

‘Don’t say anything,’ I say. ‘Let me see if the coast is clear, all right?’

He nods.

I walk up the drive, trying to work out what I’m gonna say, wondering if they’ll smell the beer on me and go mad. I put my hand in my pocket and take out my keys, open the door just a crack and stick my head round it. I can hear the TV in the lounge. I look straight ahead through the hall and into the kitchen. The light’s on, but no one’s in there. I turn to Ash. He looks at me blankly.

‘You sneak upstairs,’ I whisper. ‘Don’t make a sound. Go straight to my room.’

He nods and sways slightly. I turn back and step into the house, usher Ash in behind me and up the stairs. And as soon as I can see him going up, I close the front door loudly and go to the lounge, open the door. Mum and Dad are in there, watching the news on TV.

‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ I say.

They look up at me and smile.

‘Good night?’ Mum says.

I shrug. ‘OK, I s’pose.’

I stand there in the doorway for a bit longer, expecting a grilling. But no one says anything. Upstairs I hear my bedroom door shut. ‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘I’d better go to bed. School in the morning.’

Dad nods. ‘Last day!’ he says.

I nod. ‘Night.’

‘Goodnight, love,’ Mum says.

I turn, shut the lounge door and get upstairs quickly.

FRIDAY

Ash

The alarm goes off at 7.30 a.m. and wakes me up. I slowly open my eyes. I’m in Joe’s room, lying on the floor. It’s not exactly comfortable. I sit up and rub my face with my hands. I feel rubbish. I’m not sure if I’m still pissed or hungover or what. But I know I don’t want to be awake. I start asking myself questions, like, what the bloody hell am I doing here? What happened last night? And everything kind of slowly seeps back into my brain. Everything that happened yesterday. And it doesn’t take a genius to work out that everything is a mess.

Sitting up in his bed on the other side of the room, Joe yawns. He looks over.
‘
All right, Ash?’ he says in a quiet voice.

I nod, even though I don’t feel all right. I’ve got a nagging feeling that there are bits of last night I don’t remember – things I said and did. I put my hand in my pocket and get out my phone. I press the green button and look at
‘
All calls’. There are two missed calls from home.
10:12
, it says underneath them. I don’t even remember my phone ringing.

‘How d’you feel this morning?’ Joe says. ‘You got a hangover?’

I nod my head without looking up. ‘I feel rough,’ I say. My voice sounds croaky.

I open up the text inbox on my phone. There’s one from Dad:
I’m sorry, Ash. Let’s talk so I can explain.
It makes me angry just looking at it. How can he even write that? There’s no way he could ever begin to explain this to me. I’ll never forgive him. Never. I close the message and look down the list again. There are two texts from Mum. I remember reading the first one:
Where have you gone?
I open the other one up, the one I don’t remember.
Ashley, come home so we can talk this through. X.
I shake my head as I read it. Like hell I’m going home. I don’t want to talk about this. Not with them.

‘I’ll go downstairs and get some breakfast,’ Joe says to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him get out of bed and put his dressing gown on. ‘You feel like eating?’

I shake my head. My stomach and my throat feel disgusting. I feel like I could be sick.

‘How about a drink? Tea, coffee, water, juice?’

I nod. ‘Water.’

Joe opens the door and leaves the room.

I open the sent text messages to check if I sent any to Mum or Dad last night. I scan through them. Right away my heart sinks. There’s one I sent to Dad. I open it.
How cld u do this to us? I hate u.
I put my phone down. Shit. I lie down and close my eyes.

A few minutes later, the door opens again. I prop myself up on my elbow as Joe comes in with a glass of water and some toast. He shuts the door with his foot and brings the glass over to me. I grab it off him and gulp it down. But it doesn’t make me feel any better. It just makes my stomach feel like it has water swishing around inside it.

‘I got you some toast too,’ Joe says. He puts the plate down on the floor. ‘In case you change your mind.’

I feel too sick for that, though. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Hey, Joe, I really need the toilet. Can you check the coast is clear?’

He nods his head. ‘Everyone else is downstairs,’ he says. ‘Go quickly. If anyone comes up the stairs, I’ll talk to them loudly so you can hear. Just stay in the bathroom if I’m talking, right?’

I nod. And I get up from the floor, stumble a bit. I head straight for the door and then across the landing to the toilet, shut the door and lock it behind me. And then I start to pee. It feels good. And it goes on for ever and ever. Or at least it feels that way. When I’m finally done, I go over to the basin and run the cold tap, splash water over my face, cup some in my hands and drink it down. Then I go and stand by the door. I can’t hear Joe talking. The coast must be clear. I unlock the door, open it and hurry across to his room. By the time I get there, he’s dressed in his school uniform.

‘You better go home and get your uniform,’ he says to me.

I hadn’t even thought about school. ‘I’m not going,’ I say. ‘I’m done with all that bullshit. What are they gonna teach us today?’

Joe shrugs. ‘It’ll be a laugh,’ he says. ‘You can get your shirt signed and stuff. I heard there was gonna be a flour and egg fight too.’

I shake my head. ‘Nah,’ I say. ‘I’m gonna take it easy today.’

‘
Are you gonna go home?’

I shake my head. ‘Not right now. My mum and dad’ll be there. I don’t want to see them.’

Joe sits down on the edge of his bed. ‘What happened? What’s the matter?’

I don’t answer. I weigh it up in my mind whether I want to explain it all to him or not. If I’m honest, I want to. I want it to be out in the open. Except I can’t. I feel kind of embarrassed about it. Why is it that my family have to be the fuck-ups when everyone else has a normal family? I sigh.
‘
Ah, it’s just . . . stuff.’

‘You should let them know where you are,’ Joe says. ‘They’ll be worried. They might even have called the police.’

I sit up as soon as he says the word police. He’s right. I nod. I get my phone out of my pocket. ‘I’ll send them a text,’ I say. ‘Just to let them know I’m OK.’

Joe nods. And he starts getting all his stuff together ready for school.

I sit down on the edge of his bed and write a message:
I’m safe. Going to school now.
I send it to Mum.

I sit and stare into space, not wanting to think but unable to stop the million thoughts going round my head. Questions that have no answers.

My phone starts ringing.
Mum mobile calling
, it says. I stare at it as it rings. Before I can change my mind, I press Answer and put the phone to my ear.

‘
Ashley,’ Mum says. She sounds relieved. Upset.

‘Hi, Mum,’ I say.

‘Where are you, Ashley?’ she says. ‘I’ve been up all night, worried sick.’

I don’t answer. I feel guilty, like a coward. I confronted Mum with all this shit, stirred it all up, and then I just left her to it. ‘Sorry, Mum,’ I say. ‘I slept at Joe’s last night.’

It’s quiet at the other end of the phone. I can hear Mum breathing.
‘
Are you coming home soon?’

‘I’ve got to go to school, Mum,’ I say. ‘Last day.’

‘Right,’ she says. Then she pauses. ‘I’m sorry about last night, Ashley.’

As soon as I hear her say that, I feel like a total, ungrateful little shit. ‘It’s not your fault, Mum.’

There’s another pause. ‘I’ll see you after school, though, won’t I?’

I don’t answer right away. But deep inside, I know I’m gonna be there. ‘Yeah,’ I say eventually, quietly. ‘I’ll be back.’ And then I hang up.

I slip out of the house with Joe. After he’s gone to the bus stop I walk aimlessly, without really knowing where I’m going or what I’m gonna do when I get there. One thing’s for sure, though – I’m not going home. Mum doesn’t start work till eleven on a Friday and I can’t go back when she’s still at home. Especially seeing as I’m meant to be at school. I’ve got myself in enough trouble this week as it is.

So I end up walking the back way into town, through all the executive housing estates. And before I’ve even realised that I’m doing it, I’ve walked to the supermarket. I feel in my pocket and take out my money. I have some change and a ten pound note. I head straight for the sandwich bit just inside the doors, take an energy drink down and then look at the sandwiches. Prawn mayonnaise, cheese and onion, beef salad, ham and cheese, et cetera, et cetera. Just the thought of all the flavours makes me want to vom. So I go and grab a big pack of crisps instead and take them up to the tobacco kiosk.

The lady behind the counter takes the can and crisps and scans them.

‘Two pounds thirty-five, my love,’ she says.

I put my hand in my pocket, take out the tenner and casually ask for a packet of my usual smokes too.

The lady turns round and picks up a packet from the shelves behind her and scans that as well. And I can’t believe my luck. She didn’t even ask for ID.

‘That’s eight pounds and four pence,’ she says.

I pay, grab my stuff and my change and go.

I walk back to the rec, smoking a cigarette and swigging from my can. There’s no one there. No one sitting on the wall. No one in the little kids’ playpark. No one walking their dog. Just me. I open the gate and walk straight across the field over to the bench, sit down and try and work out what I’m gonna do. With the day. With my life.

Around ten o’clock, I decide it’s safe to go home. Mum’ll be on her way to work by now. So I walk back along the main road. And as I do, I pass the flats where they found the body. There aren’t any cops outside any more. They must have got all the evidence that they think they’re gonna get. But it makes me think of the bag. And of the gun, still buried in the woods. It makes me shiver to think about it. We were lucky. Things could have turned out much worse for us. We could have been tracked down by the guys who wanted the bag back, or by the cops. God knows where we’d be by now if they had. It’s not worth thinking about.