But it was other prey, closer to his own age, that he was most keen on winding up this afternoon, if the chance arose.
Thoughts of Titch put to one side now, he wondered as he walked whether he’d be likely to get done for his small part in the Bacon Neck Brian fight. He didn’t care that he might be disciplined for the sly kick at the screw. That was incidental. No, what bothered him – what really preoccupied him, and would do so till he’d done something about it – was the fact that Brian had now earned his stripes as far as the other lads were concerned. He would have the glory and the kudos that Vinnie badly needed, if he was to secure a decent level of status in the pecking order.
He chewed his lip as he walked towards the rec room. It was on the weekends that the system at Swallow House was at its most vulnerable and, having quickly learned the way things worked in terms of routines and staffing, Vinnie knew that only a skeleton staff were employed on Saturdays and Sundays, which made right now a particularly good time to act. He’d also had quite enough of being fucked about by the older lads. He’d made his first mistake the very first week, having told a 16-year-old lad called Dennis to go and get fucked, when he’d tried to extort some of his precious tobacco from him. Next thing he knew, he’d been pinned up by three of them and warned that, as he was fresh meat, he’d just better do as he was told.
And he could tell they meant business. They were nasty, violent fuckers. And that definitely wasn’t going to happen again. He needed them on side – something Bacon Neck Brian had now managed to achieve before him. He was a bit of a divvy, as far as Vinnie was concerned, but maybe not as much as he’d thought – because he’d been clever. The older lads would now show him respect and look out for him, and the younger ones would be breaking their necks to do anything for him. Vinnie wanted a bit of that. And he wanted it sooner rather than later.
He cracked his knuckles as he headed into the rec room and grinned at the memory of Miss Biggs’s smile. Right now would be a good time, in fact.
Saturdays were good days at the approved school. Or the ‘community home’, as the courts tended to call them these days, to try and make it sound less like the hell hole it still was. Conformity was all. Conformity was the word they had drummed into them constantly. Conforming at all times, in all things, was what mattered, but at the weekends it loosened up a little. The school had two kinds of pupils, the ones that lived in, like Vinnie, and the ones who went home. These daytime-only kids had been in shit but it was lesser shit than he had. They’d have been expelled from their schools, yes, but would still be allowed to live at home with their families – they merely ‘attended’ rather than being ‘detained’. They made up at least half the pupils, so when they pissed off home to their families, there was a different, more relaxed feel to the place.
The staff were definitely more relaxed and even had a laugh with the lads sometimes. Not so much that you thought you could get one over many of them. Just enough to give you the impression that they were vaguely human. The best part of all, though, was that it was the day you got to spend your pocket money, along with any money your family had sent. The older lads – the ones allowed in town – brought back fags and baccy, which they would sell on to you at cost plus five roll-ups. Then there was the tuck shop. Here you could get sweets, chocolate and cans of pop. So although the regime was tough – all that bloody conformity – the weekends were for indulging in mischief.
This was Vinnie’s third full weekend now, and he was beginning to get things sussed, and, on opening the rec room door, things looked promising. His friend Billy was laughing with another couple of boys Vinnie knew, over by the pool table. Vinnie liked Billy; he came from the same kind of background, and having the same sort of things to laugh about and relate to, they’d quickly formed an easy, uncomplicated friendship. More than that though, it was quickly clear that Billy idolised Vinnie and would, as a consequence, go along with whatever he wanted to do. Quite handy for what Vinnie had in mind.
‘Now then, lads,’ he said, joining the group, ‘Who wants an arse whipping? An’ I’m talking about pool, for those of you with dirty minds.’
Across the rec room, another group of lads – four of them – were playing cards, and were obviously having some kind of an argument. Voices were raised, one belonging to a big lad called Joe; a boy Vinnie hadn’t had any sort of personal dealings with, but who he had still been busy keeping an eye on, because he had a reputation as someone not to be messed with. Joe would make a good target because he was a lad with some serious status. Vinnie studied him. If he took someone like him on – no small thing – he’d definitely get himself some status too, win or lose.
He carried on playing pool for a bit, but nodded over to them as he lined a shot up. ‘Watch them fuckers, Billy,’ he told his nervous-looking pool partner. ‘That big one’s a twat. There’s gonna be a ruck in a minute.’
Billy took his shot and nodded to Vinnie in agreement. ‘Best we keep out of it then, eh?’
Vinnie looked around for staff. There were none in the rec room currently, so this was particularly good timing; no staff meant no fucking interference. He grinned at Billy. ‘Keep out of it? Fuck that, Billy lad, this might just liven up my weekend.’
Without taking his eyes off of the group, Vinnie propped his pool cue against the wall. He then leaned over, slipped his plimsoll off, and peeled his sock from his foot, before picking up the white ball and placing it inside. He laughed at Billy’s now equally white face.
‘You okay, mate?’ he said quietly. ‘You look like you’re gonna throw up.’
‘Vinnie, what the fuck? Shall I go get Vincent? They look about 16, and that big one’s fucking massive!’
‘Which is why he’s the one we’re gonna go for first, Billy boy. And no – fuck Vincent. We don’t need him. We’ll do this together.’
Vinnie shoved his plimsoll back onto his foot and picked up his cue. Holding the sock hidden in his palm, he grinned. His blood was still up from seeing Bacon Neck Brian giving Sullivan a pasting, and the lad’s chatter about it, which was very much still ongoing, reminded him just how much he wanted to make a name for himself as well.
No fear. That was the thing. No fear. He could almost taste the blood, feel the thump of his heart in his chest, sense, rather than see, Billy quaking in fear beside him, feel his own features morph into a rictus that meant one thing – that he was going to give someone a proper pasting.
Billy had grabbed his cue now and was trying to psych himself up, hopping nervously from one foot to the other. Vinnie laughed.
‘Follow me, Bill, just act natural like, okay?’
Billy licked dry lips. Not much chance of that happening.
Not that anyone had even noticed them; they were too busy slinging insults. Even from across the room, it was clear that the argument had got more heated, the group of four now split into two, with each pair making threats towards the other. Though as Vinnie and Billy approached, pool cues in hand, one of the smaller lads turned to look at them. ‘D’ya want a fucking picture, like?’ He snarled. He was a Scouser. Even better, Vinnie thought. He hated Scousers.
‘Picture of you, cunt?’ he said. ‘Nah mate, you’re too fucking ugly.’
Billy laughed at that. Which seemed to flick a switch. The whole group fell silent, looking at him, and Vinnie, in turn, assessed them. It was a shame the little Scouse fucker was one of the pair arguing with Joe, the big lad. Now he would have to fight both sides.
The little one decided to carry on, looking towards his previous tormentors for allegiance.
‘Have