‘McKellan, sit DOWN!’ Bastion was off his seat now, as well. As were the coppers. Vinnie grinned, seeing this, and flexed his fingers automatically. If there was going to be a free for all, best put on a bit of a show. ‘What you gonna do, you fat cunt?’ he yelled at Bastion. June stood up herself, then, though old Saggy Tits kept her fat arse in her chair. ‘Go on,’ June snapped at him, getting herself in between him and Bastion. ‘Go on, Vinnie. Just you fucking dare. I’m warning you,’ she said evenly, meeting his eye and skewering him with another one of her looks. He withdrew immediately. He could have had a right go with two coppers and Bastion – bring it on, son – but his mother? Fuck that for a lark. He wasn’t insane.
June remained standing till he’d sat back in his seat once again, as did Bastion and eventually the still silent coppers, and then everyone seemed to calm down. Well, outwardly, at any rate; there was still a bit of an edge to the two coppers, and he could see that one of them now had a set of cuffs in his hand.
What were they doing here anyway? It was a thought that hit him belatedly. Did Bastion really think he was gonna kick off that badly? Or – shit – was he about to be arrested? No, it couldn’t be that, surely? It was Monday now. So it couldn’t be happening. In his experience, if you were going to get nicked, it happened as soon as you got caught. They wouldn’t leave him all weekend and then come for him, surely? He felt his palms get clammy. No, it couldn’t be that, could it? That wasn’t the way things worked. He knew that. They’d want as little fuss as possible because it went on the school’s record when the cops got involved in shit. And then the school got extra hassle. So why were they here? If it was a case of him being shipped off to some other place, then they could do that themselves, couldn’t they? Yet there were two coppers here. He wished he knew why.
He tried to fathom it as, after shuffling through a bunch of papers from her handbag, Sally began having her two penn’orth.
‘Well,’ she said, mostly to Bastion, while June continued to glare at him, ‘since I only got the call on Saturday – which is not a lot of time, frankly – we’ve been unable to find Vinnie an alternative approved school.’ She paused, then glanced at Vinnie, then looked at the two coppers. ‘So am I right in understanding that you intend keeping him in custody until something suitable is offered?’
Vinnie almost choked, hearing that. What the fuck was she on about? Fucking custody? Was that why they were here? He looked at June, panic written all over his face. ‘Mum?’
June could only shake her head sadly. ‘It’s out of my hands, son,’ she said, shrugging. ‘What do you expect? I warned you, didn’t I? You just won’t have it, will you?’ She sighed. ‘You never would.’
One of the coppers stood up then and walked over to Vinnie.
‘Vincent McKellan,’ he said, managing to sound bored as well as smug. ‘I’m arresting you for an assault causing actual bodily harm. You have a right to remain silent …’ He produced the handcuffs as he spoke and reached for Vinnie’s arms. ‘Come on, son,’ he said, softening slightly, perhaps seeing Vinnie’s now stricken face. ‘You know the drill.’
The copper was feeling sorry for him now, he could tell. He tried to adjust his expression by sheer force of will.
He stood up as directed, willing his legs not to give way beneath him, and forcing a grin, said, ‘Yeah, man, I know the drill.’ He looked back at June then and smiled. ‘Get us a brief, Mam, okay? One that can sort these divvies out.’
To his horror, as he spoke he saw a tear slide down her cheek, forming a track through the powdery surface.
‘Mother!’ he barked, mortified. ‘Sort yourself out! The nick’s gotta be better than this shit-hole, I can tell you. Mother, honest. Get over yourself. I’ll be alright, okay?’
She nodded at him, brushing at her cheek irritably, before spinning round to the social worker. ‘How long, Sal? Before they find him a place? I don’t want him locked up with …’ She jabbed a finger in the direction of the hapless Joe, just so he could be in no doubt how she felt about him, ‘… with criminals and bloody animals!’
Sally smiled a sympathetic smile and put a hand on June’s arm, and Vinnie recognised that she was anxious that his mother didn’t really start kicking off, with old Saggy Tits the next focus of her anger. ‘Soon, love,’ she soothed. ‘They don’t keep kids in them places for long, I promise you.’
At that point Joe’s dad let out an angry laugh and finally spoke. ‘Criminals and animals?’ he spluttered. ‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? You’ve just described your son to a tee, love. They should lock him up and let him rot for what he’s done, the bleeding toe-rag!’
June glared at the man as though she was going to start on him next, but, glancing at Vinnie again – now cuffed – she seemed to think better of it. Instead she turned back to him, reaching out to pat his forearm. ‘Chin up then, mate, okay? You’ll be alright, son. Go on.’
There was nothing she could do to help him and he could see that by the set of her shoulders as the coppers frogmarched him out of the office.
Outside, a small crowd had formed. Word had clearly spread quickly and, while he’d been busy packing his bag, it seemed that anyone who’d been able to had gathered in the drive to watch the proceedings. A chorus of cheers, whistles and shouts of encouragement formed a spirited vocal accompaniment as Vinnie was led out to a waiting police car by the copper he was cuffed to, who ‘accidentally’ bumped Vinnie’s head on the roof as he shoved him into the back seat. Par for the course, Vinnie thought. There’d probably be more of it, too. He was more concerned about the haunted look on his mum’s face as he waved from the back window as they drove off. He couldn’t ever remember seeing her look so old. Maybe the old man was giving her some grief. He hoped not. It wasn’t like his mum to take shit off him. But he wasn’t there, was he? Had that changed things? Was she okay?
He also thought of Titch, suddenly. Shit. He didn’t even ask his mam how she was, poor little bleeder. I’ll have to write to her, he reminded himself, and find out what the score is. Mustn’t forget. Shit. Mustn’t forget.
The police station, they told him, would be a journey of about 15 miles, which he spent in silent contemplation of the passing fields, while the coppers talked quietly to each other. Vinnie wondered, for a weirdly exhilarating couple of seconds, whether to try the back door and make a jump for it. Wondered how he’d do it – how it would feel to experience his body thumping to the ground at speed, then rolling over and over, before halting the momentum, struggling upright again and sprinting towards the distant woods, the cops on his tail, like an Allied officer in a German prisoner-of-war camp. It was a compelling thought – fuck knew how long it would be before he felt fresh air again – but he wasn’t stupid enough to try it. He knew they’d round him up in seconds.
It wasn’t long before they reached the police station anyway, driving in via a back entrance halfway down the middle of a high street, where they were greeted by a desultory wave from a bloke in the car park and, when they entered the building, with a bored-looking nod from the desk sergeant. He was another fat bastard like Bastion, and had a ‘seen it all, done it all, you’re not such a hot shot’ look about him. And he confirmed it while he booked Vinnie in.
‘Little hard nut are we, eh?’ he asked once he’d read out the charge sheet. ‘Let’s see how long you last in the holding cell, then, shall we?’
One of the coppers who had brought him in looked at the sergeant in confusion. ‘Holding cell?’ he asked. ‘I thought he’d be given his own pad.’
‘Not just yet, Gary, we’re all out of superior rooms, I’m afraid.’
They all sniggered and, watching them, Vinnie scowled. Let the cunts laugh, he thought, pushing his chest out and flexing his fists again. He’d show them who’d have the last laugh.
But