The Dead Have No Shadows (20 page)

The fourth one of the group, a single boy on the edge of the group was looking very uncomfortable and took an involuntary step away from the others.  Mickey noticed this and decided that it would be one against three if things started to get interesting.

“No,” replied the bully.  “You’re going to fuck off.  Either on your own or with some help.”

He nodded to his cronies and indicated Mickey with a swivel of his head.  The lad on the edge of the group froze.  He clearly wasn’t going to get involved.  Straw Head and Pimply looked at one another and took Dutch courage from each not wanting to look bad in front of the other.  They moved in on Mickey.

Keeping half an eye on Straw Head, the boy closest to him, Mickey concentrated on Pimply.   At the right moment Mickey moved, taking a step forward and landed a swipe in the mouth of Straw Head.  This wasn’t supposed to be happening but then Mickey hadn’t read the script.  Straw Head stopped in his tracks but Mickey quickened his pace.  He grabbed Pimply around the throat and swung him around, pinning him against the Pavilion wall.

Mickey turned his head and grinned at the ringleader.

“Now this all seems a bit dramatic for a bar of chocolate,” he said, squeezing his quarry’s throat hard enough to elicit a croaking sound from the boy.

“Chocolate?” the ringleader laughed.  “You think this is all about fucking chocolate?”

Mickey kept a tight grip on his prisoner’s throat but shot
Jonno
a questioning look. 
Jonno
said nothing but then, from the look of guilt on his face he didn’t really need to say anything.

“Well whatever it is,” said Mickey, retrieving the situation.  “It looks like negotiations have broken down.  The deal’s off.”

The ringleader looked round for support.  The lone kid had wandered some distance away and was looking anywhere but at the confrontation.  Straw Head was on his knees dabbing at a cut lip and bloody nose.  Meanwhile, Pimply had developed a slightly unhealthy dark pink tinge to his skin from having Mickey’s hand wrapped round his throat.  The colour blended in with the angry pustules on the boy’s face.

The ringleader thought about stepping in to help Pimply but spotted Mickey’s clenched fist.  He considered his options then turned to
Jonno
.

“This isn’t over.  Don’t let me see you out on your own.” 

Then he turned to Mickey.  “Let him go.”

Mickey obliged and took a couple of steps backwards to give himself time and space to react if one of the sixth formers decided to try something.

They didn’t though.  The ringleader kept a wary eye on Mickey, whilst Straw Head and Pimply were more interested in tending their injuries.  The other kid had long since disappeared.  The ringleader gave Mickey and
Jonno
the best threatening look that he could manage then gathered his remaining cohorts and left.

Mickey watched until he was satisfied that they wouldn’t be coming back.

“What was he talking about?” Mickey asked, turning to
Jonno
.  “Are you branching out into something new after all these years?”

“No, no.  I still sell the chocolate,”
Jonno
said.  “This is just a bit of a side line.”

Mickey got a sinking feeling from
Jonno’s
tone of voice and refusal to look him in the eye.

“What sort of sideline,” Mickey pressed.

Jonno
looked sheepish and squirmed for a while before answering.  “Pills.”

“What?” Mickey gasped.  “Are you kidding?”

“No, no.  It’s ok though,”
Jonno
said.  “It’s not what you think.  It’s only uppers and downers.  Things like that.  Mild stuff.  Nothing heavy.”

Mickey couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You fucking idiot.”  He slapped
Jonno
across the side of the head.  “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t like it,” said
Jonno
, rubbing his head.  “I know how much you don’t like drugs, but this pays really well.  I get loads more than I make selling my Dad’s old chocolate.”

“So where do you get your supplies from?” said Mickey.  “It certainly isn’t from the out of date stock at the back of your Dad’s shop.”

“It’s from a guy my cousin knows,”
Jonno
replied.  “He gave me a good deal on the stock.  I just need to shift the stuff a bit quick to pay back the loan.”

“You mean you went into debt to buy these fucking things?” Mickey said.  This was getting worse by the minute.  How dumb could
Jonno
be?  He was going to end up getting himself killed.  People who supply drugs don’t fuck about.  Mickey didn’t know any such people and didn’t want to; but he had a good idea what they could be like.

“Yeah,” said
Jonno
.  “But it’s ok.  There’s this other guy my cousin knows.  He gave me a good interest rate on the loan.”

Mickey cringed. 
Jonno
was a dead man.

“You’re in hock to a fucking loan shark as well?  Which cousin has dropped you in the shit like this?  No, don’t tell me.  It was Jin wasn’t it.”

Jonno
nodded guiltily.  “
Jinendra’s
not that bad Mickey,” he said.

Mickey couldn’t disagree more. 
Jinendra
was a complete waste of space.  Mickey was really scared for his friend’s safety.  He didn’t like what
Jonno
was up to and feared that he may be beginning to lose his only real friend.

Mickey felt defeated.  He didn’t know what to do.

“
Jonno
, you’re an idiot.  Go on, fuck off.  I want to think.”

Jonno
had known Mickey long enough to know when he should do what Mickey told him without question and when he could risk arguing back.  Now was a time to keep quiet and obey. 
Jonno
tried a weak smile which Mickey ignored, then left his friend alone.

Mickey sat on the ground with his back against the Pavilion wall.  Pester, who had watched this episode from a short distance away, joined him.

“Interesting fighting technique,” he said as he sat down.

Mickey started.  “Who the fuck ...” Then the mind of Mickey the elder swapped places with his fifteen year old self and recognised his deathly guide.

“What do you mean?”

“You copied your father,” Pester enlightened him.

Mickey groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Your moves are the same as the ones that your father uses on your mother and you,” Pester said.  “It’s sad but understandable.  Your father wasn’t the sort of role model that anyone would choose, but he still set the examples.”

Mickey looked up and turned to Pester.  “It doesn’t look too good for me then does it?  What do you make of what you’ve seen so far?”

“Well, you’ve tried your best to protect your mother.  And here you acted to help a long standing friend,” said Pester.  “And you did it without judging him first.  It was only afterwards, when you knew what he was up to that you let him know what you thought.”

Mickey nodded but didn’t speak.  He hadn’t really listened to
Pester’s
last answer.  He was badly shaken by what Pester had first said.  Was he really just a copy of his father?  He couldn’t stand the thought that he’d learned how to be a violent thug from his father.  Most boys wanted to be their father’s son.  That was the last thing that Mickey ever wanted to be.

The bell rang for the end of lunchtime.  The younger Mickey returned and climbed to his feet.  He brushed the grass and dried mud off his trousers and set off to cover the short distance to the main school building.  There was a queue of pupils waiting to get back into school.  Mickey didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, so he detoured away from the crowd and headed for a side entrance into school.  Mickey opened the door and stepped inside.  His vision shimmered and the dead Mickey Raymond found himself back on the pavement outside his parent’s house on
Ridsdale
Street.

Elaine Raymond came out of the house and locked the door.  She was smartly dressed in a dark blue dress with a matching handbag.  Mickey could see that Elaine had spent money on having her hair done and was wearing a modest amount of make-up.  It was all the more noticeable because she normally never wore any.  Over her arm Elaine carried a warm coat.  It was not new by a long way, but it was the best one she owned.

She checked that the door was locked and glanced up and down the street.  Her gaze went straight through Mickey.  Seeing the street to be clear, Elaine set off, with purpose, towards the town centre.

“She ignored me,” Mickey said.

“That’s because you’re not visible to her,” Pester replied.  “You must be in between episodes.  What do you think she’s up to?”

“It looks like she’s going to a job interview,” Mickey told Pester.  “She tried to get work a few times.  It was the only time I can remember seeing her dressed up.  She never had any luck getting a job though.  I blame him for that.”

“Your father?  Why do you blame him?” asked Pester.

The two men had started a slow stroll behind Mickey’s Mum.  There was no real reason for doing so; Mickey just felt it to be the right thing to do.

Mickey was slightly irritated by
Pester’s
question. 

“He never wanted her to work,” he said.  “Mum once told me that after I was born he made her give up work.  When I got older she wanted to get a job so that she could save some money to help me when I started at university.  That lazy bastard wouldn’t make any effort to get a job himself and got angry with her when she tried to make things better for us.”

“And I suppose he reacted in his usual violent fashion when he found out,” Pester suggested.

Mickey snorted and smiled grimly.  “That was always his way of dealing with everything.  I think it was the prospect of that which affected Mum’s chances.  She learned how to keep things from him so that he wouldn’t know she was going for an interview.  She used to worry though, how he’d react if she was offered a job.  It made her so nervous at interviews; which was why she was never offered a job.”

They were still following Elaine but she was starting to look faint, almost translucent, as if she was fading away.

By way of explanation Pester said, “We’re reaching the point where our paths part.  Her purpose is almost served.”

“You mean we followed her for a reason and not just by coincidence?” said Mickey.

“It would seem so,” Pester replied.  “Her purpose was to lead us to this part of the town.  I’m assuming that there’s something down here that you need to see.”

Mickey looked around him.  His Mum had now completely disappeared and the street was deserted.  This part of town was familiar to Mickey but he couldn’t see anything out of place.

He was standing across the road from a row of shops.   A hairdresser’s salon sat between a butcher’s shop and a chemist.  Further along a Post Office and a Chinese take away stood side by side.  The row of shops ended at a junction.  A pub was across the side road and then ... Mickey stopped and retraced his view.  There was something different about the pub, but Mickey couldn’t immediately tell what it was.

Pester had been watching Mickey, waiting to see if he would discover why they had been drawn there.

“Have you spotted something?” he asked.

“Possibly,” said Mickey.  “But I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Share it with me,” said Pester.  “If you talk through your thoughts it might unlock the one piece that you need.”