AN: I am so SO sorry it took this long. Really. I've had a bit of an issue with writing lately, but I think I'm back in business! Anyway, sorry sorry sorry. And I promise I'll continue soon. Promise.
Chapter 4
London, UK, 1988
He arrived in London in the early afternoon.
Christie's parents seemed incredibly relieved to see him leave. In fact, they were so relieved that they bought him a train ticket and even gave him some money. He promised he'd call to let them know when he meets his family, even though he had no intention of doing so.
If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he didn't want the social services involved.
On the other hand, now he was alone again, and in a city he barely even knew. Unlike Manchester, which was at least partly familiar, London was brand new to him. If he weren't as scared as he was, he would have probably been thrilled by all the opportunities it offered.
The first thing he did when he made it to London was to find someplace to eat. He ordered a sandwich at a fast-food restaurant and then sat down on a bench outside the train station. Even though the food wasn't the best he'd ever eaten, it seemed to him as though it was the most delicious thing he's ever had.
Maybe it was because he couldn't stop thinking that this was probably one of his last proper meals.
He needed to think.
If there was one thing he was sure about, it was that he'd never survive long if he wastes his money. He didn't think he had enough money for a place to sleep, but maybe, if he asked nicely, one of these shop-owners would let him stay in their shop at night. Maybe he could even offer them some sort of a trade – he'd help them with whatever they need, and they'd let him sleep there.
He looked around him, at the shops and restaurants, and shook his head to himself. That wasn't likely. Although he didn't have anything to lose by trying.
What he needed to find was someplace he could sell the valuables he brought with him. There weren't a lot of them – one of his mother's rings, forgotten in his room; several expensive-looking cufflinks, which must have been his father's but were used by him as a child; an old fob watch; a cross-shaped necklace his parents received when he was born. He briefly considered keeping it before deciding there was no point to it. He wasn't religious, and it wasn't like god could help him now, anyway.
And then, he also had a little under thirty quid in cash, but somehow, he doubted that would be anywhere near as useful as the valuables.
He sighed and then, once he finished eating, got up and started walking away from the station. He didn't know where he was going, but it didn't really matter, either. It's not like he had a destination in mind.
He stopped as soon as he saw a pawnbroker's store, right around the corner. He hesitated a moment before deciding it was his best bet and walking inside.
The pawnbroker looked up from a magazine when Kevin walked in. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the boy, but said nothing. Kevin walked up to the counter, placed his backpack on the floor and kneeled next to it, looking for the items he hid there.
One by one, he pulled them out of the backpack and placed them on the counter. Seeing the cufflinks and the ring, the pawnbroker moved the magazine away and picked up the first cufflink, studying it thoughtfully. By the time he finished placing everything on the counter, the man had already finished with the cufflinks and was studying the golden ring.
"How much can I get for these?" Kevin asked, attempting not to let his nervousness show.
The pawnbroker was still looking at the ring as when he replied. "These aren't worth much," He said, tilting his head towards the cufflinks. "I can give you fifty quid for them." Kevin frowned, wondering whether he could get a better price. Seemingly reading his thoughts, the pawnbroker shrugged and added, "You can try elsewhere, but it's the best price you'll get. Only because you look like you need it, kid."
He hesitated briefly before nodding. The pawnbroker was probably right. "How about the ring and the necklace?" He asked, pointing at them.
"The ring is real gold, and it's a good one. I can give you… two hundred quid for it," He said, studying the ring. He placed it back on the counter and raised the cross. "This is worthless," He added before taking the fob watch. "This, on the other hand…"
Seeing the pawnbroker's interest, he leaned forward, looking at the watch closely. There was nothing special about it – nothing that he could see, anyway. But clearly there was something to it, because the man in front of him looked as though he was trying to hide his excitement.
Which made him wonder whether he should sell it or not.
"How long has it been going in your family?" The man asked, still looking at the fob watch.
Kevin shrugged. "A few generations," He lied, not wanting to show the man he had no idea. Who knows how expensive that watch really was.
The man nodded. "Thought so. Tell you what, because of the jewels, I'll give you four hundred for it. Although I imagine your parents wouldn't like it. Did they give you permission to do this?" He left the watch and turned to look at Kevin.
He didn't even hesitate. "They're dead."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly. He nodded, still looking casual, but his free hand reached out to the telephone on the counter. Seeing it, Kevin hurried to grab the watch and the ring.
"No police," He said. The man froze. "I'll take your deal. But no police."
Slowly, the man nodded. "I'll get the money," He said.
Still looking at Kevin, he turned to bring the money. His eyes were wide as he quickly counted the money, constantly sneaking glances at Kevin as he did.
"There." He said, pushing the money on the counter towards Kevin. "Six hundred and fifty quid. Count it if you want."
He placed the watch and ring back on the counter and picked up the pile of notes. Constantly looking at the broker, he quickly counted the money, nodding when he finished. The broker kept looking at him, his expression a mixture of suspicion and confusion.
"Thank you." He said as he pushed the pile into his backpack. He hid the money underneath the clothes, between the tapes. He then picked it up and left the store, still feeling the broker's eyes looking at his back as he did.
He nearly ran the next several blocks. Then he turned to another street, and ran a few more blocks. He repeated the process a few times, each time turning towards a different direction, until he was certain there was no way for the pawnbroker to find him. Even if he did call the police after Kevin left, they would have no way to find him.
Once he felt he was safe, he sat down by the road, looking at the area around him as he tried to catch his breath. He was in a quiet street filled with apartment buildings; there was no store in sight. A few people were walking on the sidewalk, but for the most part, no one gave him so much as a second glance. He felt more comfortable seeing that.
Once he managed to catch his breath and calm his beating heart, he stood up and started walking in the opposite direction from which he came. He assumed that if he walked far enough, he'd find the stores again. There were so many people living there; there had to have been stores somewhere nearby.
Being busy looking around him, he didn't even notice the man in front of him until they collided.
"Watch where you're going!" The man scolded him angrily. Then, slowly taking Kevin's appearance in, his eyes narrowed and he reached into his pockets, clearly looking for his wallet and keys. Kevin stumbled backwards and opened his mouth to say he didn't take anything, but the man didn't let him speak. "I know what you're thinking," He said, hands still in his pockets. "You're waiting for your little friends. You're a distraction? Or just a really bad thief?"
"I… I wasn't…" He stammered, "I'm not… I don't have any friends…"
"Try to fool someone else," The man growled at him. Then, still holding whatever he had in his pockets, he walked away, making sure to keep as far from Kevin as possible the whole time.
Kevin waited until the man was gone before letting out a long sigh. Did he make a mistake by coming to London?
He shook his head. It didn't matter. He couldn't have stayed in Manchester anyway.
"Excuse me." He stood on the tip of his toes, hoping he could finally get the store owner's attention. He's been trying to talk to the woman for the past fifteen minutes, but every time he was ignored and pushed aside by the customers. Now the store was finally empty, and he hoped he could get her to talk to him before someone new walks in.
"Yes?" She looked down at him, clearly bored.
"Can I stay here?" He blurted out, not entirely sure how to make his offer. He'd spent the entire train ride preparing his speech, but now that he was standing in front of this woman, he couldn't remember any of it.
Her eyes narrowed. "What?"
"I can… uh, work," He continued, getting the words out as quickly as he could. "I can help here. If you need help. I can do all sorts of things."
"You can, can you?" She moved past the counter, towards him. "Get out of here!"
"But-" He tried, taking a step back.
But she wouldn't let him speak. "Get out of here, now! I don't know who you are and what you want, but get out of here!" She walked closer, looking at him angrily and suspiciously, and eventually he gave in and ran out of the store, tears slowly filling his eyes.
He'd never felt so alone in his entire life.
In the end, he settled for a small hotel in the edge of London.
It was expensive for what little money he had, but the moment they saw his money, the hotel employees were happy to serve him. He had a warm meal for dinner, better than anything he'd eaten since his parents left, and his own room – small as it was – to stay in for the night. He even had the chance to shower and change.
Once he was ready for bed, though, he found that he couldn't really fall asleep. He'd been to three more stores after that first one, and in each one he received the same suspicious, angry response. When he asked them about working there, the hotel workers thought he was looking for a job for an older sibling – and, once he said it's for him, they were certain he was joking.
Although there was no way to know what they really thought underneath their smiles.
Curled in his bed, he stared at the white wall in front of him. He couldn't stop thinking about Christie and her family; about his own parents; about the life they had in Manchester. He couldn't stop wondering what he did wrong. Why did they leave him? Was it because of his argument with his mum? She yelled at him, but she did so before, too, and she never left. And then she screamed when the iron touched her face, but he couldn't understand why she did it in the first place. It wasn't because of him, was it? He didn't really mean for her to do it.
Surely, she knew.
Tears filled his eyes. He felt so alone these past several days. Even when he was with Christie's family he felt alone. Deep down, he knew he didn't really belong there.
Maybe he didn't belong anywhere.
He fell asleep crying that night.