A Place of Safety

‘I’ve already squared it with the office and marked myself out in the diary with a fat red pen.’

‘But stuff comes up on those big children cases,’ he said.

‘I’m not doing those any more, as well you know,’ she said. ‘And would I miss the semi-final?’

Placated, Sam collected together his kit bag and three bananas. ‘For energy,’ he said.

Unable to find a tea towel, Lilly wiped her hands down her jumper. Suds accumulated across her chest. She tried to rub the bubbles away with her elbow but only managed to smear them around. ‘Damn it.’

‘Why don’t you get a new dishwasher, Mum?’ asked Sam.

‘I will,’ she said, and grabbed her car keys. She pulled at the front door with both hands but it wouldn’t budge. A wet November had swollen the wood of both it and the frame. Superglue couldn’t have attached them more firmly. She braced her foot against the wall and heaved. The door opened about a foot and she ushered her son outside.

‘We need a lot of stuff doing to the house, don’t we?’ said Sam.

Lilly squeezed through the gap then braced herself again, this time with the heel of her boot against the stone of the cottage. She slammed with all her might. The door shuddered to a close, showering plaster from the roof of the porch.

‘One or two odd jobs,’ she said, and shook the masonry from her hair.

‘When I play for Liverpool I’ll be rich,’ he said. ‘But I suppose we need the money now.’

They threw their bags on the back seat and got into the Mini. ‘Don’t you worry, big man, these divorce cases pay well.’

‘You don’t like them though, do you, Mum?’

Her new car purred. ‘I like them well enough.’

‘What about all those children you used to help?’ he asked.

Lilly sighed. ‘Someone else will represent them.’

‘And you really don’t mind?’

Lilly smiled and set off down the lane.

When she dropped Sam at school, he turned to her again.

‘I’ll be there,’ she laughed. ‘And I have something for you.’ She handed him a small plastic bag and watched the joy on her son’s face as he unpacked a pair of brand new Nike goalie gloves.

* * *

The bench is hard and cold but Artan is prepared to wait all day. Anna leans against him, her cheek against his chest, her bony arm around his waist.

They watch for the telltale green blazers that separate the boys from Manor Park from the local kids.

‘Tell me if you see them,’ he says.

She nods slightly, her cheek grazing the zip of his jacket.

The air buzzes with lunchtime chatter. Two boys in hoodies spar in the road, pretending to land karate kicks. Their friends shout encouragement and shower them with sweets and crisps. When they spot the strangers on the bench and whisper to each other.

‘What you looking at?’ shouts one.

Artan doesn’t reply, but the look on his face sees the boys off.

He feels Anna’s body tense against his own.

‘What?’

‘There,’ she says, her gaze directed towards four boys in green.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

Anna nods. ‘The dark-haired one and the redhead.’

‘I thought you said there were three.’

‘I did,’ she says. ‘He is not there.’

They let the boys buy some drinks and follow them at a safe distance.

The boys lark about all the way back to school. The redhead is in charge. His voice is the loudest and he punches his friend on the arm just a little too hard. When the other cries out, he laughs in his face and calls him ‘gay’.

‘He reminds me of Gabi,’ says Anna.

‘Don’t ever say that name.’

Anna leans against him. ‘Sorry.’

He pushes her away and wraps his hand around the handle of the gun. Its feel is familiar, like an old friend.

Jack pounded forward, the rhythm of his feet beating in his head. One, two, three, four. It was relentless. Yet oddly comforting.

He’d taken up running six months ago, when the doc told him his blood pressure was borderline dangerous. He’d also been told to curb his drinking—but you could only do so much.

He surged through puddles and oil slicks, oblivious to the mud catapulting up his calves, concentrating instead on his breathing. One, two, three, four. He thought it would lose its attraction once the summer skies had disappeared but oddly he found the grey streets and lanes even more enticing.

He’d lost nearly a stone already, which was no small feat considering how good Lilly’s cooking could be. He smiled at the thought of her licking cake mixture from a spoon.

He’d call her later, see if she and Sam fancied catching a film. She’d sounded distracted yesterday, worried about the boy at the hostel. She was always so committed to these kids she worked for. Took it all to heart. It would do her good to do less of that kind of work.

He remembered that Sam was playing a footie match at the school this afternoon. Maybe he wouldn’t call her. Maybe he should surprise her…

* * *

Jack watched Lilly stamping her feet against the cold. Most of the other mothers were dressed in green Hunter wellies and puffer jackets, cashmere scarves wound around them. Lilly, however, had obviously come straight from work and was in her suit and leather-soled boots. She looked freezing and jigged from side to side. The playing fields were exposed on all sides and the wind ripped across unchecked.

‘For the money you lot pay, you think they’d give you better weather.’