Random Acts of Unkindness by Jacqueline Ward Read Free Book Online Page B

I picked up the tea can that’s left on the table as the police filed out of our small living room.
    This house used to be my idea of heaven. A manageable little haven for me and my boys, first Colin, then Colin and Thomas. I never wanted any more than this.
    The sofa was a bit threadbare, but I always joked that no one could see it with two big men to cover it up. They’d laugh and push each other and rush to sit down when I put the tea out. All shirtsleeves and razor cuts, the two of them.
    Now the room looked dark and dingy. It was brown and stained with all the cigarettes we’ve smoked between us over the years. I didn’t mind so much until today, because folk took us as they found us and if they didn’t like it they could bugger off.
    I’d felt a change, though, because all of a sudden all the neighbours were out and three big police were sitting in my private space, where I didn’t put on a show, where my legs were white, my face un-made-up and my long hair uncurled and pinned.
    Once they were gone, Colin fiddled in the kitchen for a while, then came in and sat down.
    ‘Do you want some tea, love? You haven’t eaten all day.’
    I shook my head.
    ‘What’ll happen now, Colin? What will they do?’
    ‘They’ll make enquiries, love, see if anyone’s seen him. I’m going to the Collier’s later putting the word out. If anyone sees him local like, maybe in the pub, to tell him to get in touch.’ His hand covered mine. ‘You know what it’s like. Once you do somat wrong, the longer you leave it the harder it is to admit to it. He probably wants to come back, but he feels stupid, or scared.’
    I nodded, a fire rising inside me.
    ‘Scared, yeah, and who can blame him. Scared of being battered.’
    Colin winced.
    ‘I wondered when you’d bring this up. So it’s my fault, is it? My fault for disciplining my own son. Bloody hell, Bess, if it were up to you he’d never be told off. You’re too soft with him. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. Too soft. Lettin’ him do what he wants. He’s buggered off now, not tellin’ us, puttin’ us through all this. If you’d . . .’
    ‘But what if he’s dead, Col, what if he’s been murdered? Who’s fault is it then?’
    Colin sat down, head in hands.
    ‘I don’t know. He’s not dead. I know he’s not. He’s more likely playing stupid teenage games with us.’
    ‘But he’s a good lad, Col.’
    ‘He is, but what with all that drinking and that, sounded all right to you when you let him do it, go off and go to the boozer out of town, but when I told the police earlier on they acted like he was a bloody criminal. Askin’ me why he goes out of town, who he knows. What he does in his spare time. They’ll go and talk to Philip and all them at Stoke’s joinery. Point is, Bess, we gave in to him too easy. Scared of another argument so we just let him. To us it made an easy life. Now it makes him look like a bad ’un to the police.’
    At least he’d moved on to ‘we.’ Thomas had told us he was off to the pub on his bike and we had begged him not to, he told us he was playing darts with Philip, that Phil had a girl up that way and they’d all go and have a few pints. We didn’t want him going out of town, to Hyde, but he insisted.
    We all knew that bad things had been happening round here. It was only recently that we’d had our cellars searched for that poor little girl who’d been snatched from the fairground, and a boy from Ashton Market. We’d told Thomas about them, but he’d been angry that we thought he was a child. He’d said he hated us both and he wanted to get away from us as soon as he could. But I suppose all teenagers say that at one time or another?
    Colin had shouted and raised his hand and Thomas had said he was going anyway. That moment between father and son where there has to be a compromise because both are men. No doubt he’d filled the police in on the arguments. Colin likes the truth and he likes to