I NEED TO TALK

-x-

Two

-x-

Colin managed a small, worried smile. 'Hello, you.' He pushed a second cup of tea towards Lynda. 'Good idea to change from the Feathers. Spike might have gone in after you.'

'He did,' replied Lynda. 'I'd bet any money on it.'

'Thought you might have forgotten who David Thornley was,' muttered Colin, 'you never mentioned it after… you know.'

Lynda smiled a little, despite the horrible memory, the screaming and the crying. 'I did have to bite my lip a few times when you first turned up at Norbridge High. But it was your life, I wasn't going to bring it up if you weren't. And after a while you do start pushing it to the back of your mind. Colin Mathews is a strong enough personality to overshadow David Thornley.'

'That's because David Thornley was a Victim,' said Colin, quietly. 'I'm not. I won't let that happen.'

-x-

'NOOOOOO!' David exploded into tears at the mention of his real name, fighting angrily against the Policewoman. 'No I'm not! Get off! Get OFF!'

Lynda shrank back a little in her bed, and Mrs Day put her hands against her face. 'Christ…'

Somehow, David managed to wriggle out of the sleeping bag and half way out of the Policewoman's grip, but she kept hold of his pyjama top as he tried to free himself.

That's when Lynda saw the bruises. Just for the briefest moment, before the Policeman helped his partner in restraining the sobbing, kicking boy.

'Come on Colin,' demanded the Policeman as he lifted David up off the ground, 'your parents are worried sick. You've had your fun, and you've given us all a little mystery to solve, but it's time to go home now.'

'That's not the mystery,' said Lynda.

The Police Officers ignored her and started to carry David down the stairs.

'That's not the mystery!' she shouted again, getting out of her bed. She managed to make it to the top of the stairs before the Police reached the bottom. 'The real mystery is, if his parents were so worried, why did it take them all night to phone you?'

'I beg your pardon, Young Lady?' gasped Mrs Day.

'I first saw him two hours ago,' yelled Lynda, 'and he was already half frozen. Who knows how long he'd been walking before that? But they only called you a few minutes ago. And they couldn't have been out, because they knew he'd hit his head. Right?'

'Lynda love,' tried her Mother, 'what you're saying doesn't make sense…'

'Not to you, Mum,' replied Lynda. 'Because you've got nothing to hide from the Police. But I reckon they were scared, so they waited for him to get cold and come back, only he didn't.'

'They're not scared…' started David.

'I don't think you sleepwalk,' Lynda told David, 'and I don't think you hit your head on a door or on a dustbin.'

'Lynda,' snapped her mother, 'what have I told you about sticking your nose into other peoples' affairs? It's not down to you, you're just a little girl.'

'But they're the Police!' replied Lynda, pointing angrily at the Officers. 'They're supposed to do the nosing. So before you take him back home, be a bit nosey. Look at his hands. Look at his back. Be nosey!'

'Go to bed, Lynda,' demanded her mother, but the Policewoman had already taken one of David's hands and was inspecting the back of it.

'Do these look like cigarette burns to you?' asked the Policewoman.

'Lynda. Bed. Now!'

The Policewoman bent herself down to David's level again. The boy had stopped trying to fight now and was just crying.

'Colin? Could you take your pyjama shirt off for us please?'

'Bed.'

Lynda took one last look at David Thornley before turning back into her room and closing the door behind her. She didn't sleep, but listened to the voices below, listened to her mother saying 'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God' until her voice broke with tears.

Lynda didn't cry, but she thought about David Thornley, and hoped she'd see him again some day.

-x-

'Took me a while to forgive my Mum, afterwards' sighed Colin, 'I don't suppose we'll ever really be OK with each other, but my Nan talked to me, talked to both of us. Helped me understand she was just as scared of Him as I'd been. Katie didn't really understand, she was too young. Our little Innocent Bystander.' He smiled to himself. 'I think that's why we both spoil her so much.'

He finished of his tea. Lynda didn't interrupt.

'If it wasn't for Nan, though… she was a tough old bird, could have given you a run for your money…'

Lynda just smiled.

'She'd turn a blind eye to pretty much any crimes and misdemeanours, any prison stretch, so long as you were Family, but if you hit a woman or a kid… you were Out.' He snorted a laugh. 'And the rest of the clan were all so frightened of her, they all fell over each other to put me under their wing. Helped me get the Restraining Order for when He was released, made sure He stayed away, made sure I never went wanting…'

He paused, drawing a swirl in the sugar bowl.

'But Nan died. And now He's back.'

'He got out of prison?' asked Lynda, quietly.

'Oh, he's been out of prison for ages. They only gave him a few months.'

'You're joking…'

Colin shrugged. 'I didn't care, so long as he stayed away from me, Mum and Katie. But the Restraining Order's only for me. Mum didn't want it and, like I said, Katie didn't understand. So, now I've moved out of home… He can get in.'

'He can't just break in and take over because you're not living there any more, Colin…'

'Mum says He's changed,' replied Colin with a tight, bitter smile, 'Mum was always saying He'd changed, He was sorry, she was giving Him one more chance to prove Himself, blah blah blah…'

Lynda nodded to herself. 'She's taking him back.'

'He beat her as well as me,' said Colin, 'He'll do it again. But it's Katie that I'm… He didn't lay a finger on her before, but then He didn't start hitting me until I was six. And if I'm not there to take the flak… And she fourteen now, and the puppy fat's all dropping off except for the places that are supposed to be… big, you know… and…'

'And you can't stop thinking about Cindy Watkins,' finished Lynda.

'He never did that stuff to me,' Colin sighed, 'but… I'm not sure I could put Him past doing it to Katie. I can't trust Him to leave her alone.'

'Have you tried talking to your Mum?' Asked Lynda.

'There's no point. She doesn't listen to reason, not when He's involved.'

'Your sister could move in with you,' she suggested.

'I've tried that. She doesn't want to leave mum, she doesn't think He's dangerous.' He rubbed his face and looked up at her, that old desperation in his eyes, the desperation of David Thornley.

'What am I going to do, Lynda? What am I going to do?'

Lynda thought long and hard while he watched her.

'I don't know.'

-x-

Julie jumped at the sound of loud banging on the office door.

'Spike…' she muttered to herself, wandering over into the entrance hall.

Only it wasn't Spike. It was a stocky, middle aged man, drunk and angry. He slapped at the door again.

'Lemme in!'

Julie stood on the other side of the locked door.

'Door's locked,' she shouted back at him. 'I think you might have the wrong place. This is the Junior Gazette. It's a Newspaper.'

'I know that!' slurred the drunk, 'I'm not fucking stupid! Let me in, I've got a… I've got a fucking story for you…'

'The office is closed for the day,' she shouted. 'There's a few of us finishing off, but we don't do interviews at this time of night.'

'Love… Love…' The drunk leaned in closer. Julie could see large tattoos on his neck and knuckles. 'Just tell us, Babes. Tell us… that Colin Mathews, he works here, yeah?'

I knew it, thought Julie to herself.

'If you can call it working,' she answered. 'But he's not in. If you've got an issue with him, you can sort it out in the morning. OK?'

The drunkard thumped the door again. 'No! Tell me where he is, you fuckin'…'

'What has he done this time?'

The third voice, from the gloom, made Julie blink. Another man, of around the same age as the first, appeared at the door. The drunk squinted at the newcomer for a moment. The second man seemed quite calm next to the angry, inebriated thug. He took a cigarette packet from his pocket and offered it both to the drunkard, who took three, stuffing one into his mouth and the others into his jeans pocket, then to Julie through the door's window, who shook her head with a curt smile. The well dressed second man proceeded to take a cigarette for himself and light it, not forgetting to light the tattooed man's smoke first.

The drunk took a drag and relaxed slightly. 'Hair tongs,' he growled at both listeners, 'Bought a pair for the Mississ' birthday. Only…'

'Only they don't work,' completed Julie with a roll of her eyes.

'Only they work too well, sweetheart.' The tattooed man took another drag. 'She was tryin' to do ringlets, and they burned right off.'

Julie bit down a giggle, and she could see the second man's lips twisting around the cigarette, trying their best not to smile.

'There she is, tryin' to look like Victoria Plum,' continued the Drunk, 'and she comes out of the bathroom lookin' like Oliver fucking Twist. She's given me nothin' but grief about it all fuckin' day.'

'Yeah, well,' sighed the second man, cordially, 'I reckon causing hassle's what the good Lord put the fairer sex here on Earth to do.' He gave Julie a quick wink and a smile.

The drunkard sighed at his shoes. 'Too right, Chief. Too fuckin' right.'

'Tell you what, mate.' The second man pulled a chequebook and pen out of a pocket. 'How much did you pay for the curlers?'

'Twenty.'

'Well, how's about…' the second man leaned against the wall to write something on the chequebook. 'How's about I double it, for all your trouble. Send the wife down the salon, short hair's very In these days I hear.' He tore a cheque from the book and presented it to the tattooed man. The Drunk gazed at it, suspiciously.

'How comes you're paying for it? Where's the little shit that sold them to me in the first place?'

'Me and him go back a way,' breezed the other man. 'I'll cover him, I don't mind. Take the money. I think it's more than fair.'

The Drunk took the cheque, squinting at the other man once more. 'Do I know you?'

The man shrugged. 'Do you? Why don't you go home to your poor wife, eh?'

The tattooed man stumbled backwards a little, then turned on his heel, weaving off into the night. The other man just leaned on the door and grinned at Julie.

'Thanks,' Julie sighed, 'I don't think I was going to be able to get rid of him.'

'Not a problem.'

'But why did you bail Colin out?'

'Like I said, we go back a ways.'

Julie shook her head. This guy looked far too reputable to be an old acquaintance of Colin's.

'I take it he's not in now 'til tomorrow,' continued the man.

'He's a popular boy tonight, isn't he?' smiled Julie. 'I'll let him know you called, Mister…?'

The man flicked ash from his cigarette onto the ground. 'Don't worry about it, Goldilocks. It's been a while since we've met up. It'll be a nice surprise for him in the morning.'

Julie shrugged. 'If you say so. I'd better get back to work.'

'Yeah,' smiled the man. 'See ya.'

He turned from the door and walked off towards the street. The tattooed man was sitting slumped on the kerb, too drunk to stand any more. He eyeballed the other man as he walked past.

'Oi!' Yelled the drunk as the man passed him, 'Oi, I do know you. Did Bird together, didn't we…?'

The man kept on walking.

'You're Lenny.'

The man faltered a little, then continued to walk. Still the drunk cried out after him.

'You're Len Mathews, intcha?'

It was dark, and the other man was too drunk to focus, so nobody saw Leonard Mathews bunch his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

'Mathews…' muttered the drunk as Lenny strode around a corner into the darkness, 'Mathews…' A seemingly hilarious thought struck him, and he burst out with sudden laughter. 'Mathews! I get it! Oh, that's priceless…' He looked again at the crumpled cheque in his hand. 'That's fucking priceless, Len!'

Around the corner, Lenny Mathews stopped, took a deep, calming breath, and ground his cigarette stump out on the greenish bark of a nearby sapling.