Rise and Fall (18 page)

Reagan had needed to produce bank statements and proof of earnings for the estate agent. Thankfully, Jerell knew a guy who could make forgeries of any documentation so realistic that it was a shame the man’s craft was illegal, the guy was clearly gifted when it came to creating paperwork, and Reagan suspected that even the pigs would have been fooled by the papers that he had managed to  produce for them.

And now the place was theirs for the next year, at least, as long as they didn’t give the landlord any reason to kick them out for breach of the tenancy agreement, which Reagan would ensure didn’t happen. He reminded himself that he would have to sit the boys down later and lay down ground rules. Rule number one, after seeing Rhys’ little outburst earlier, would be not to fuck off the neighbours.

“You did good, Reagan boy; this is nice… very nice.” Jerell’s voice came from behind him and made Reagan jump. He leapt up, forgetting there was a cabinet door open above him and whacking his head on the corner of it.

“Shit, Jerell, you scared the fucking life out of me, man,” Reagan said, clutching his head.

“You left the front door open,” Jerell told him, as he looked around the large kitchen. He whistled, seemingly as impressed with their home as the others had been. 

“I’ve got all your stuff here; it’s in your room.” Reagan was pleased by Jerell’s reaction and couldn’t wait to show him around. He closed the cupboard doors and led Jerell to the stairs so that he could give him a tour of the place. 

Upstairs, Jerell and Reagan stopped outside the smallest of the four bedrooms, where Rhys and Tyler had their faces stuck up against the window, their noses pushing against the glass, as they nosily gave the neighbourhood a proper once over. 

Oblivious to Jerell standing in the doorway, they too jumped at the sound of his voice: “What you boys think den?” Jerell asked, knowing that the boys must be impressed. 

“It’s a fucking palace, Jerell.” Rhys was beaming. He was thrilled that Reagan had asked him to move in as it meant that he was climbing up in the ranks of the group, and he could see himself living in a house like this. It was hardly going to be a sacrifice leaving his miserable cunt of an old man’s place to live somewhere like this.

“Yeah, it’s great,” Tyler added, not turning around to meet Jerell’s eyes; his voice was quieter and less enthusiastic than Rhys’ had been. 

Reagan could see the change in Tyler’s body language since Jerell had arrived, and he recognised fear in the boy’s voice. He knew that the boy could be a little shit, making up lies and stories to stir things up, but this quiet, scared version of Tyler was worrying. Once again, Reagan wondered if he should talk to him; maybe he could get the boy on his own. 

Tyler was thinking that with Jerell standing in the doorway, the room felt as if it had shrunk to the size of a prison cell. He shuffled his feet and continued to look out of the window. Jerell had told Tyler he may as well move into the house, as he was left at home so much on his own anyway. Jerell had said to Reagan that once they were up and running again in this new place, they would be so busy it made sense to have others living with them. Reagan had suggested Rhys, as the boy seemed dedicated to doing a good job, and Jerell had chosen Tyler. Tyler had been dreading it. The last thing he wanted to do was spend any more time living with Jerell. The man gave him the creeps; the thought of Jerell trying to do that disgusting thing again made him want to throw up.

Tyler had practically been counting the minutes until Jerell was finally moving out of his mum’s place and he had been horrified when Jerell had dropped the bombshell last night that he would be leaving with him. Jerell had told Tyler not to mention it to his mother, he had said that he would square everything with her, and Tyler had been too terrified to do anything but nod his head in agreement. Tyler knew that there was nothing that he could do; he was too scared to tell Jerell that he didn’t want to come, as he would have just forced him to; Tyler knew that he didn’t have any say in the matter. 

“This is your room, Ty; I’ve got dibs on the bigger room as I’m older.” Rhys ruffled Tyler’s hair as he walked past him, out of the smallest room, to go and make claims on his new bedroom. Tyler guessed, as volatile that Rhys could be, at least he would be company for him. 

But it was hard to find anything good about the situation: now that Jerell was there the feeling of panic had returned, worse than ever, and with it a sensation of leaden misery. Watching Reagan and Jerell follow Rhys, as they enthused about the place, Tyler sat on the bed feeling defeated. He reached into his rucksack, his hand dipping in beneath some clothes and DVDs, but as he rooted around; he couldn’t find it. Panicked, Tyler tipped the bag’s contents out carefully onto the bed, glancing towards the doorway as he made sure that no-one was around to see what he was doing. Spreading the stuff out on his bed, and lifting the clothes and DVDs out of the way, all that remained were his phone, old house keys and his wallet. As his hand searched for the cold metal of the gun that he had been hiding for the past two weeks, he realised with dread that it had gone, someone had taken it. It had to have been Jerell.

Tyler had gone to the river that night, holding the gun wrapped in the T-shirt tightly, ready to throw it as far as he could into the Thames just as Jerell had instructed. But something had stopped him. Somewhere deep inside, he had thought that if he kept the gun hidden, then the next time Jerell tried to force himself on him he would have some way of protecting himself. He had stuffed the gun back inside his rucksack and had hurried home. Jerell had been so caught up with dealing with Tyler’s mother, that when Tyler had returned Jerell hadn’t noticed him sneaking his bag, containing the gun, upstairs to his room. Tyler had hidden the gun beside his bed, in easy reach. That night, when Tyler had lain in his bed, he had let his arm hang down the side of the mattress as he felt around for it, wanting to touch it. Just feeling the weapon had made him feel safer. Tyler wasn’t sure that he would have the guts to use it, if it came to it. He had never held a gun until that night, and he had no idea if he would be able to pull the trigger if he needed to. The fact that he had defied Jerell’s orders, mixed with the security of knowing that he had the gun as back up, had made him feel like he had regained a tiny bit of control. And now, to his dismay, it was gone. Tyler fought to hold back tears. If Jerell had found it, he hadn’t said anything. But Tyler knew how Jerell liked to play games with people and watch them sweat. It gave him a kick. Maybe Jerell was biding his time and thinking up some way of punishing Tyler for disobeying him and not dumping the gun. Tyler would be in big trouble for this.

As he sat in his new bedroom, in the biggest, grandest house he had been in, all he could think was how he would give anything to be as far away as possible. 

“I can tell something’s up, Jamie, so you may as well just spit it out, mate,” Gary said, as he tried to get whatever it was that was bothering Jamie out into the open. The lad had come back a few hours ago with a face that could have turned the milk in his tea sour, and Gary couldn’t fathom what the matter was. Jamie had been fine when he had left this morning; more than fine, in fact, the boy had been over the moon with his offer of running the garage. Gary hadn’t expected Jamie to come back from his trip looking miserable; something had wiped the smile off his face.

“It’s nothing, Gary; let’s just drop it, alright.” Jamie needed to get his head sorted out, and telling Gary what was going on in his mind would only further confuse the whole situation. There were some things that Jamie had never discussed with Gary. And right now, Jamie didn’t want to explain what was bothering him.

After following the kid home, Jamie had driven around for almost an hour. Maybe it was shock, but the hour had gone by in seconds and now seemed like a blur. The drive hadn’t helped: his head was as jumbled up now as it had been then. He was at a loss as to what he should do. Jamie was convinced that what he suspected was true, and it was a major fucking nightmare.

“Is it the garage? I know what a pair of doughnuts Gavin and Shay can be, Jamie. I won’t give it a second thought if they’ve been fucking things up down there on us. I know I said I want to hand over the responsibility to you, Jamie, but that doesn’t mean you have to sort it out all on your own, I still want to be kept in the loop.” Gary leant forward in the armchair. He watched Jamie as he sat in the other one, and stared at the TV screen with a face like thunder. The last thing in the world that Gary wanted to do to the lad was burden him with a business and if that were what this mood was about, Gary wanted to know. He had assumed that Jamie would have been over the moon about being given free rein of the garage, now he wasn’t so sure that he had done the right thing; maybe he had misread the situation.

“No, Gary, it’s got nothing to do with Gavin and Shay. If anything they have both come up trumps these past few weeks.” Realising that Gary was only worried about him, which was fair enough, Jamie wished he hadn’t come back to the house while he was still so rattled. Gary didn’t need this drama; he had enough on his plate to deal with. Not wishing to cause his friend any unnecessary stress, Jamie tried to think of a way to diffuse the situation. Seeing the concern on Gary’s face, he wished he had gone somewhere else. 

“Well, if it ain’t them, what the fuck’s going on?” Gary racked his brain to think what could have put Jamie in such a bad mood in such a short space of time. He had gone out this morning as happy as Larry but had come home with a mood that would rival the anti-Christ’s.

“Seriously, Gary, it’s nothing. Please, just drop it. It’s just stuff, my stuff, and it’s private. I don’t really want to get into it, to be honest. It’s got nothing to do with you or the boys or the garage, so you don’t need to be worrying yourself.” Jamie sounded like he was at the end of his tether. Gary knew he would be wise to leave the subject alone.

Jamie didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t know what to do with himself either; getting out of the house was on the top of his list, though, as he was going stir-crazy pretending to ignore Gary’s concerned glances. He rang Les and asked him to come back over to Gary’s; Jamie told him that he needed to go out to do a few more errands. 

Les was at the house within minutes, seemingly more than happy to be of use to Gary. Jamie quickly left, needing to get out and get some fresh air in his lungs, while he thought about what was going on. Wanting to walk off his agitation, he left his car behind. He hadn’t planned to return to the flat, but he ended up standing outside the building. The cold concrete walls were a suitable match for his mood. It was so miserable; so bleak. The place was like a magnet to him. It was sucking him back with a destructive invisible force, drawing him towards it against his better judgement.

He needed to know, though. He had to be certain.

As Jamie walked slowly up the stairwell, he tried to control his heart that was now thudding loudly in his chest. It was beating so hard that he thought it may burst.

On the second floor walkway, everything looked exactly as he remembered. He was fifteen again.

He stood outside the white front door; the gold of its numeral was tarnished. The front of the letterbox was still hanging off. He thought about knocking on the door, wondering who would open it. His lifted his hand but let it drop. He would be walking in blind. He didn’t have a clue who, or what, he would be faced with. Deciding to play it more carefully, he reached into his pocket and took out a key. He figured security in this place had never been a top priority; no-one would have had the brains or the inclination to change the locks. 

Placing the key in the lock, he turned it. Hearing the click as it unlocked, he gently pushed the front door ajar, hearing the creak he remembered as he did so. 

As he crept through the hallway, he smelt cat piss, dirt and a lingering staleness, the combination both sickening and nostalgic.

The kitchen was still a health hazard, he noted, as he peered into the small room as he passed it; even rats would choose to avoid it.

Going into the lounge, he stepped back and let out a gasp. This was not what he had expected to find.

***

Sitting in the lounge, he couldn’t believe how little had changed. Even the mould had continued to grow in the same corner, except now the dark patch was much larger and had spread onto the ceiling. 

The old carpet was bald in places; it had been on its way out even then, but now he could see the creaky edges of floorboards, poking out in places though the large holes.

It was like being in a time warp.

The old grandfather clock ticked loudly on the wall, the only thing to break the deathly silence: that and the sound of struggling, raspy breathing. 

As the minutes ticked by, Jamie leant his head back and just sat there watching her. The concern that he had felt when he had first seen her lying in a bloody heap on the floor had thrown him. He had told himself for years that she was dead to him. He guessed that if he had been happy to see her, lying on the floor, dead as he had first thought when he had seen her twisted body lying there, then he would have been more screwed up than he had imagined. It was human nature to panic, and to feel concerned, he thought as he sat there mulling over his feelings. He had learned something about himself tonight, which was a revelation. Even when it came to this woman whom he despised so much, he was still capable of being human. 

His concern had dissipated as he noted the rise and fall of her breath and realised that she wasn’t dead. He had sat there patiently since, waiting for her to come around from her unconscious state. 

She was a shocking sight, a bloody mess lying there battered and bruised in the dingy room. Between the swelling and the blood, her face was barely recognisable. It was hard to say whether she had aged.

The sun was going down, the room darkening. But Jamie didn’t get up out of his chair to switch on the light, he just sat there as darkness fell, watching her.