Hater 1: Hater (9 page)

    'I saw this earlier,' Harry says. 'It's a bloody disgrace if you ask me.'

    'What's happened?' asks Liz.

    'Haven't you seen any news yet today?'

    'You know what it's like in our house, Dad,' she replies as she shuffles around to get a better view of the screen. 'We're last on the list when it comes to choosing what we watch on TV.'

    'You want to start putting your foot down,' he moans, looking directly at me, trying to get me to bite. 'Show them you're in charge. You should never let children rule the roost like that.'

    I ignore him and answer Liz.

    'There was some trouble last night,' I explain. 'I saw it before I went to bed. There were a few incidents around town which got out of control.'

    'What do you mean, got out of control?'

    'You know what it's like in town on a Saturday. If there's a night when things will kick off it will always be Saturday. The streets are filled with idiots who are pissed-up and off their faces on drugs. The police can't cope with them as it is. Apparently it all started with a fight in a bar that got out of hand. More and more people got involved and it turned into a riot.'

    'Grandpa, we saw a fight yesterday,' Ellis says innocently, looking up from her colouring book. Harry looks at Liz who nods her head.

    'It was horrible, Dad,' she explains. 'We took Ed to a party at the Kings Head. It was full of football fans. We were having a meal and two of them started fighting.' She stops speaking and checks that the children aren't listening. 'One of them had a knife,' she says, her voice a little lower.

    Harry shakes his head.

    'It's a sad state of affairs, it really is,' he sighs. 'It's almost as if people go out looking for trouble these days.

    The room falls quiet momentarily.

    'Hang on,' Lizzie says suddenly, 'did you say this trouble happened here?'

    'Yes,' I answer, nodding my head, 'why?'

    'Because this is talking about somewhere else,' she says, nodding towards the TV. She's right. This report is coming from another place further north, and now they've cut to a third reporter on the east coast.

    'It's mob violence,' Harry chunters. 'It spreads. People see something on TV and it makes them want to go out and do the same.'

    He might be right but I doubt it very much. This doesn't make sense. I can't imagine that these people are all fighting just for the sake of it. There must be a reason.

    'There must be more to it than that,' I say. 'For Christ's sake, Harry, do you really believe these people were just sat watching the trouble on TV one minute and then were out on the streets fighting the next? These riots are hundreds of miles apart. There must be more to it.'

    For once he doesn't answer.

    Another twenty minutes and the children have reached and exceeded their boredom threshold. They've started playing up and it's time to leave. I try to hide my relief as I bundle them into the back of the car. They bicker and fight constantly and I wonder if they're as wound up about Monday morning as I am. I hate Sunday evenings. All that's left now is the rush to get everything ready for school and work tomorrow.

    This is the worst part of the weekend. Nothing to look forward to now except Monday.

    We're still half a mile from home and I don't know what the hell is going on. The traffic has suddenly slowed. It's backed-up as far as I can see both ahead of us and behind and we're hardly moving. It's Sunday evening, for Christ's sake. The roads should be empty. It's already getting dark. I don't want to spend the whole night sat here.

    I can hear sirens. I look into the rear view mirror and I can see a mass of flashing blue lights coming up on us at speed. A convoy of police cars and fire engines are approaching from behind and there are more flashing lights coming the other way too. The drivers of the cars around us shuffle to the side and mount the pavement to get out of the way. I do the same.

    'Wonder what's happened,' Liz mumbles as we bump up onto the grass verge.

    'Don't know,' I answer. There's a noise from the back seat and I look around to see Ed and Ellis fighting with each other across Josh who's trapped in his baby seat. 'Cut it out,' I snap angrily. They stop when I tell them but I know they'll start again the second I look away.

    The emergency vehicles rumble past us and I crane my neck to watch where they go. They take a left-hand turn a couple of hundred yards ahead. In the semi-darkness I can see the blinking blue lights through the gaps between buildings and the branches of trees. They've stopped not far from here.

    'Looks serious, doesn't it?' Lizzie says, keeping her voice quiet so the children don't hear.

    The traffic is at a complete standstill now and it looks like people have turned off their engines. Some are starting to get out of their cars. I can't stand sitting behind the wheel if I'm not going anywhere. I decide to go and have a look too. I'll try and see how long we're likely to be stuck here.

    'Back in a second,' I say as I switch off the engine and undo my seatbelt.

    'What are you doing?'

    'Just going to see what's happening,' I answer quickly.

    'Can I come?' Ed asks. I turn to face him as I climb out of the car.

    'No, you wait here. I'll only be a minute.'

    He slouches back in his seat and scowls.

    Lizzie's not happy being left with the kids but I go anyway. I follow a group of three people from the car in front of us around the corner. There's a large crowd gathering in the next street. As I get closer I can see that a dark blue estate car has lost control and mounted the pavement. It's hit a street lamp which has fallen onto the front drive of a house and destroyed a caravan which was parked there. The police are trying to cordon off the scene. They're pushing people back but I manage to keep moving forward until I'm right at the front of the crowd. The car's a total write-off. Its bonnet is smashed and crumpled and the driver is slumped against the steering wheel. He's not moving. The fire brigade are setting up their cutting equipment to get him out but no-one's rushing. Looks like they're already too late.

    There are two paramedics and a police officer crouching down at the front of the car. Has someone else been injured too? One of the green-suited medical officers gets up to fetch something. Bloody hell, there's a body under the car. I can't see much, just a twisted, broken leg sticking out from under what's left of the bonnet at an awkward angle. Poor sod. Whoever it was they didn't stand a chance.

    I stand and stare at the crash scene until the police decide to widen their cordon again and I'm pushed further back. I realise I've left Lizzie on her own for too long and I quickly turn and start to walk back towards the car. I stumble into a man walking his dog when he stops suddenly as the dog veers off to the left towards the hedge.

    'Sorry, mate,' I mumble quickly.

    'You're all right,' he replies as he tries to yank the dog back out of my way. The dog isn't responding. 'Come on, boy,' he snaps.

    'Nasty accident, that,' I say.

    He shakes his head.

    'That wasn't an accident.'

    'What?'

    He looks into my face and shakes his head again.

    'I saw the whole thing happen,' he tells me. 'Bloody idiot.'

    'Who?'

    'The bloke driving the car. Absolute bloody idiot.'

    'Why?'

    'First thing I know is when some lad runs past me,' he explains. 'Came out of nowhere, he did, nearly knocked me flying. Then the car comes past and drives onto the pavement just up from where I'm walking. The lad's running as fast as he can but there's nothing he can do. The driver puts his foot down and just accelerates and runs him over and drives straight into the wall. Stupid bastard. Looks like he's killed himself too.'

    The man finally moves his dog out of the way and I start to walk forward again, trying to make sense of what I've just heard. This weekend has been full of bizarre and horrific events. First the concert, then the attack in the pub yesterday and now this. And there was the man in the street on Thursday morning too. I think back to the news report we were watching at Harry's house. What the hell is going on?

    Ten times the trouble wouldn't have kept some drinkers away. The club was emptier than usual but these were the hardened few - the regular drinkers and clubbers who wouldn't miss a night out no matter what they'd seen on the news or read in the papers. For these people the rest of the week revolved around nights like this. Getting pissed, getting stoned and getting laid was all that mattered.

    'She's fucking gorgeous, mate,' Shane White yelled into Newbury's ear. 'She keeps looking at you. Get in there, son!'

    Newbury turned to White and grinned.

    'Reckon I'm in with a chance then?'

    'No fucking problem. She's yours mate, no question.'

    'Serious?'

    'Serious.'

    'Right then. Watch this.'

    Newbury pushed himself away from the bar, knocked back the last of his drink and stood and watched her. He didn't even know her name. He'd seen her here a few times before but she'd always been surrounded by blokes and her friends and he'd never had the nerve to try anything with her. It felt different tonight. He felt confident and alive. Maybe he felt less intimidated because there were fewer people around? Maybe it was just because he was already half-drunk. Whatever the reason it didn't matter. Fucking hell, he thought as he watched her dance, Shane's right, she's fucking gorgeous. He slowly walked towards her and she began to dance towards him.

    'You all right?' he shouted, fighting to make himself heard over the thumping music which filled the half-empty club. It seemed louder than ever in here tonight with fewer people around. She didn't answer. Instead she just beckoned him closer, wrapped her arms around him and shoved her tongue down his throat.

    'You're bloody beautiful, you are,' Newbury babbled breathlessly as they left the club and walked together towards an alley opposite the town hall. 'Absolutely bloody beautiful.'

    'Are you going to spend all night talking or what?' she asked as she led him into the shadows. He couldn't answer. 'I could have stayed at home if I wanted to talk. All I need from you is a good, hard fuck.'

    Newbury struggled to believe what he was hearing. He'd never had this happen before. He'd fantasised about it enough times and he'd heard about it happening to other people, but it had never actually happened to him. And he'd never dreamt it might happen with a girl like this…

    She stopped walking and turned towards him, pushing her body against his. She ripped open his shirt.

    'Here?' he asked. 'You dirty bitch…!'

    'This is how I like it,' she hissed in his ear. He could smell the booze on her breath. Somehow that made it more sordid and more exciting.

    Newbury was in danger of becoming too fired-up and turned on to perform. Staying in control was getting more difficult every time she touched him or kissed him or… she pushed him back hard against the wall and kissed him again, chewing on his lips and forcing her tongue deep into his mouth. He shoved his hand down the back of her skirt and pulled her even closer. In response she undid his trouser zip, slid her hand inside and slipped her fingers around his drunken erection. She held it firmly but gently and teased it out of his trousers and towards her.

    'Get your knickers off,' he gasped in a momentary pause between frantic bites and kisses.

    'What knickers?' she whispered in his ear as she hitched her tight skirt up around her waist. Still locked together they rolled to the side until she was the one with her back to the wall. 'Come on,' she moaned, desperate for him, 'give it to me.'

    Newbury shuffled into position and tried to slide into her. It was awkward and rough. The booze had affected both of their coordination. She gasped with sudden pleasure as his full length finally disappeared inside her.

    'I'll give it to you, you dirty slut,' he promised as he forced himself deeper still. She looked up to the sky and bit her lip, trying not to make any noise but at the same time desperate to scream out loud.

    'Harder,' she hissed.

    He began to thrust his body against hers, forcing her back against the wall again and again.

    'Hard enough for you?' he asked, staring deep into her wide grey eyes.

    'Just fuck me,' she gasped between thrusts.

    'Hard enough?' he hissed again through clenched teeth.

    Then she stopped.

    She let go of him.

    'What's the matter?' he asked, concerned. 'Did I hurt you? What did I do?'

    The expression on her face changed from pleasure to fear in an instant. She pushed him off and backed away from him, pulling her skirt down and tripping back across the alley.

    'What's going on?' he asked again. 'What's the matter with you?'

    She didn't answer. She kept moving away, shuffling deeper into the shadows. He continued to move towards her. She tried to speak but she couldn't. 'Don't…' was all she could mumble.

    'What the fucking hell's going on?' he demanded. 'You're mental, you are. One minute you're all over me, now you're pushing me away. Is this how you get your kicks? You're a fucking prick-teaser. You're a dirty fucking bitch.'

    Still staggering backwards her foot kicked against the edge of a plastic crate filled with empty glass bottles. She instinctively leant down, picked up one of the bottles by its neck and smashed it against the brick wall behind her.

    His reactions dulled by drink, Newbury stood and watched her.

    'Now what are you doing? You're fucking crazy, you are. What the fucking hell do you think you're doing? I'm not…'

    He didn't finish his sentence. She ran at him and shoved the broken bottle deep into his stomach. It sliced through his cotton shirt and plunged into his flesh. She pulled the bottle out and then shoved it into him again, this time lower, the jagged edge almost severing the bottom third of his still exposed but now completely flaccid penis. Then a third strike as she sunk the razor-sharp glass into his neck.

    She turned and ran and was out of the alley before he'd hit the ground.

    There were more of them out there, thousands more.

    She had to keep running.

    Sometimes the thought of work is worse than the reality. All things considered, today at the office was just about bearable. After everything I'd seen and heard over the weekend I'd expected to have to fight my way into work through crowds of people battling with each other on the streets. Apart from a few broken windows and some other slight damage everything looked and felt disappointingly normal. The city centre was quiet for a Monday and the office was too.

    I'm glad to be home. I can see the apartment block at the end of the road now. As usual there are lights on in the diagonally opposite corners of the building - our flat and the other occupied flat upstairs. As I get closer I can see shadows moving around behind our curtains. The kids are running around in the living room. No doubt they'll have been playing up all evening and I'll get it in the neck from Liz again.

    We shouldn't be living in a place like this I think as I walk up the overgrown pathway to the door. I know I'm a lazy sod and I should work harder but it's not easy. I do my best, it's just that it doesn't seem to be enough. I need a kick up the backside from time to time. But if every day could be like today, I decide as I pull open the creaking front door, then maybe things might work out. Today it actually felt like the effort I'd put in had been worthwhile. I didn't have any screaming members of the public to deal with and I even managed to have a laugh with Tina Murray. Today, for once, I didn't feel as if I was pulling in the opposite direction to everyone else. The plans that Lizzie and I have been making for years to move to a bigger house, change the car and generally improve our standard of living seem a little more realistic and possible than they did when I left the flat this morning. Still a long way off, mind, but possible.

    I shuffle though the gloom of the lobby and open the door to the flat. I step inside and the warmth of our home makes me realise just how cold it is outside tonight.

    'I'm back,' I shout as I take off my coat and shoes. It's unusually quiet in here. I can hear the TV and the children but I can't hear Liz. She's usually yelling at one of them. I can't remember the last time I came home and it was this quiet.

    Edward appears in the hallway in front of me. He's grinning from ear to ear.

    'Okay, Ed?'

    He nods his head.

    'Had half a day off today,' he beams, looking pleased with himself.

    'Why, what's the matter with you?'

    'Nothing. School was shut.'

    'Why?' I ask again as I walk further into the flat, looking for Liz. I can't see her in any of the bedrooms.

    'Because of Jack Foster,' Ed explains. I'm confused.

    'Who's Jack Foster?'

    'He's in Year Six. You should have seen him, Dad, it was brilliant!'

    I've reached the kitchen door. I can see Lizzie in there sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and staring into space.

    'You okay?' I ask. She looks up, surprised.

    'Didn't know you were back,' she says quietly, shaking herself out of her trance. She gets up, walks over to me and hugs me. This sudden display of affection is out of character.

    'What's that for?' I whisper, my mouth pressed close to her ear. 'You all right?'

    She nods then pushes herself away and goes to fetch my dinner from the oven.

    'I'm fine,' she sighs. 'Had a bad day, that's all.'

    'Ed was telling me that the school was closed. Something to do with Jack Foster?'

    She puts my food down on the table and sits in a chair opposite to the place she's laid for me. I start to eat and watch as she massages her temples. She looks tired and upset. I'm assuming that whatever happened at school today is what's bothering her.

    'So what happened?' I ask. She doesn't want to answer. 'Talk to me, Liz…'

    She clears her throat and finishes her coffee. When she finally starts to speak her voice is quiet and full of emotion.

    'Do you know Jack Foster?'

    I shake my head. I've heard the name before but I can't place the face.

    'You know Ben Paris? Short lad with black hair?'

    I'm sure I know who Ben is.

    'His dad's the hairdresser?'

    'That's the one. Jack Foster is his best friend. They're always hanging around together. We sat next to Jack's mum Sally at parents evening last term. He's got a sister in Ed's class. He's tall and…'

    '…and he wears glasses?'

    'That's him.'

    I'm pretty sure I know who she's talking about. I say that I do just to keep the conversation moving.

    'So what did he do?'

    Lizzie clears her throat again and composes herself.

    'First thing this morning,' she begins, 'the whole school was in the hall for assembly. The kids were crammed into the middle of the hall and Mrs Shields was parading up and down doing her usual routine at the front.'

    'I can't stand that woman,' I interrupt. Mrs Shields is the headteacher. By all accounts she's strict and old-fashioned and she speaks to the parents in exactly the same way as she speaks to the kids.

    'I know you don't like her,' Liz sighs, 'you tell me every time I mention her name. Anyway, she was just finishing off one of her bloody awful bible stories. I was sat at the back next to Denise Jones and…'

    She stops speaking and I stop eating. I look up from my dinner and put down my knife and fork.

    'And…?'

    'Jack's in Year Six,' she continues. 'The children sit on the floor in age order with the youngest at the front so Jack's class was at the back of the hall near where we were. Mrs Shields had just asked them to bow their heads for the final prayer before lessons…'

    She stops again.