Kith and Kill (12 page)

‘Shut up, you two,’ said Neeve. ‘I still think the dating agency idea's the best. Shows more imagination than jewellery. And she can keep a man, too. They're not necessarily just for Christmas. You've just got married’ – Rafferty and Abra had married in June – ‘would you deny ma the same happiness?’

‘No, of course I wouldn't.’ Rafferty stood up. ‘I'm going to make some tea. We're going round in circles. Hands up who wants a cup?’ Half a dozen hands rose. He went out to Maggie's kitchen, put the kettle on, took the mugs down from their hooks and dumped teabags in them before he came back. ‘Let's take a vote. All those in favour of jewellery?’

Three hands shot up, including Rafferty's, although he was now – after Patrick Sean's talk of “a man in the pub” – experiencing considerable doubts about his choice. But the pain he had experienced at the hands of a dating agency was still too raw for him to feel easy contemplating this as an option for ma's present.

‘All those in favour of the dating agency?’

Again, three hands shot up.

‘Looks like a draw, Joe,’ said Mickey. ‘What say we get her the man and the jewellery?’

‘Or,’ said Patrick Sean. ‘A man bearing gifts. That should save us a packet.’

‘It's not decided yet. Only half of us have voted.’ Rafferty turned to Abra, his not-so-blushing bride. ‘You haven't voted, sweetheart.’

‘Damn right, I haven't And I don't intend to. I'm staying out of it. Family squabbles – no thanks.’

‘But you must vote. We need a decision. I'm relying on you, Abracadabra.’

‘What if I plumped for the dating agency? Would you be so keen on me voting, then?’

‘Course he wouldn't,’ said Neeve and Katy together.

Rafferty said nothing. They were right, of course. But, knowing Abra, she was quite capable of voting for the dating agency, even though she knew of the bad experiences he had had with one before he met her. Not that ma was likely to suffer similar experiences… Still, sometimes, he thought there was a lot to be said for the biddable, obedient wives of old, who did what their husbands told them. If they had ever existed, that was.

‘Abra's right,’ said Maggie. ‘This is for us to decide. We six, ma's kids. Though, if anyone else has any ideas, throw them into the pot and we'll consider them.’ She looked round, first at her husband, then her brothers-in-law, then her brothers’ girlfriends, but none of them had anything to suggest. Perhaps, like Abra, they thought the wisest course was to stay out of it. This looked set to be a squabble that ran and ran.

Rafferty went to make the tea. He thought it wise. To judge by the discarded cans littering the room, most of the family had already done a good job of plundering Maggie's booze cabinet. And it seemed likely that things would start getting a bit heated soon if they couldn't make a decision.

They were split down gender lines: Maggie, Neeve and Katy all plumping for the dating agency and the men, less imaginative perhaps, had all plumped for the jewellery. Though Rafferty had his reservations about that, too, the more he thought about it. If that choice was carried, Rafferty knew the rest would plump for the idea Patrick Sean had presented – that of buying it off the man in the pub. It was bound to be hookey gear. He'd tried to insist that his brother bought it from a bone fide jeweller and Patrick Sean had said he would. This promise was greeted by sidelong glances from the rest of the family and a quickly suppressed giggle from Mickey. Rafferty suspected Patrick Sean had had his fingers crossed behind his back. It was an old family trick when you didn't want to do something.

Admittedly, buying from a proper jewellers would cost a packet for something similar to the chunky gold necklace that the girls had all agreed would suit ma. He'd just have to cross his fingers himself that his brother went the legit route, though he didn't have any great hopes that this was likely to happen.

At times like this, being a policeman was a positive curse. And he wasn't the only one who thought so… He took a gulp of the Jameson's whiskey that he kept in a flask in his jacket, poured the tea, ready now, to go on the attack again, though for which choice, he was no longer sure.

Two
hours and many drinks that weren't tea later, the family still hadn't made a decision. Instead, they'd opted to go over it all again one week hence. Perhaps that would be a good idea, because Rafferty, for one, was already wavering. Given the likelihood of Patrick Sean's jewellery being bent, it was probably wise to fall in with the dating agency idea. At least the man ma chose was unlikely to be stolen goods.

It was midnight and Rafferty was tired. He'd had a long day and he really didn't fancy a longer night. He gave Abra a discreet glance, jerking his head towards the door and she nodded. ‘I'm for my bed, Mags. I'm knackered,’ he told his sister.

Maggie followed him out to the hall. ‘Don't rush off just yet, Joe. I wanted to talk to you about something.’

‘Oh, yes? What's that?’

‘It's about Sean.’

Sean was Maggie's second child and eldest son. He was fifteen now and studying for his GCSEs.

‘What's he done?’ Rafferty was wary. His family had invariably done something they shouldn't and had a habit of applying to the only policeman in the family when one of their number was in shtook. It had embroiled him in some dire predicaments in the past. This jewellery for ma business was just the latest.

‘He's been mixing with some wrong ‘uns. I think he's been taking drugs.’

‘Drugs? What makes you think that?’

‘His character's changing. He's surly and uncommunicative and his schoolwork's suffering.’

‘He's a teenager, for God's sake. They're all like that,’ said the childfree expert.

‘Well I know that. It's more than that. Trust me, I'm his mother and I know.’

‘Do you want me to have a word with him?’

‘Would you, Joe?’ Looking harassed, Maggie swept her dark curls off her face. Her vivid, sky-blue eyes were troubled. ‘He's up in his room. He won't be asleep. He'll be playing one of those bloody computer games.’

‘No wonder his schoolwork's suffering. You want to take them off him, at least during the week.’

‘Easier said than done. He's bigger than me. Bigger than his father. There'd be bloody uproar. I swear he's been welded to them.’

Rafferty hadn't planned on ending the evening with a man-to-man talk with his nephew. Trying to talk sense to an uncommunicative teenager especially when said teenager was his nephew was way out of his comfort zone. But it sounded like he had no choice. So he nodded to Maggie, told her to tell Abra he wouldn't be long and headed upstairs. Rafferty knocked on his nephew's bedroom door and stuck his head round it.

Sean was sprawled in his seat before his desk, joystick in hand, zapping aliens, left and right.

‘All right if I come in, Sean?’

Sean gave a grunt which Rafferty took for assent. He came into the bedroom Sean shared with his younger brother, Alex, and sat on the empty bed. Alex, at ten, was fast asleep, clearly used to the noise of any number of alien zappings.

‘Haven't seen you for a while,’ Rafferty began. ‘What have you been up to?’

‘This and that.’

‘How's the schoolwork going?’

‘Okay.’

‘Exams next year. Think you'll be ready for them?’

‘S’pose.’

Rafferty sighed at this latest monosyllabic response and tried again. ‘Your mum seems worried about you.’

This time Sean left his aliens to their own devices and turned round. ‘What's she been sayin’? I ‘s'pose she sent you up here?’

‘She asked me to speak to you, yes. She thinks you're getting in with a bad crowd. She said your schoolwork's suffering.’

‘School.’ His tone was scornful. ‘That's all anybody thinks about. You'd think there was nothing else on earth but school.’

‘That's ‘cos it's important, Sean. It can decide your whole future. I mean, look at me. You don't want to end up as a copper do you?’

‘No way. I'm gonna be an engineer like dad.’

‘You'll need qualifications for that.’ Rafferty paused, then said, ‘Can I ask you something? Man to man?’

Sean stared at him, lip curling, then nodded.

‘Are you taking drugs?’

Sean's lip curled even more. ‘Why is that always the first thing grown-ups think of? Why is every teenager supposed to be taking drugs?’

‘Usually because they are. If you are taking drugs, you could be gambling with your whole future. Gambling with that dream of becoming an engineer. God knows I was never a saint when I was your age, but I never did drugs. I saw what they did to my friends.’

Sean's gaze narrowed. ‘So? What did they do to your friends?’

‘Made them lazy, drifting, stupid. Most of them amounted to nothing, always looking for the next few quid to make the next score. It's no life. And for some of them it really is no life. No life at all, ‘cos they've snuffed it.’

Rafferty could see that shocked him. He had meant it to. ‘All I'm saying is don't be an idiot. Don't be a mindless sheep. Make your decisions on what's best for you. Best for that future you hanker after. Make sure you have a future.’ Rafferty stood up. ‘I'll leave it there and let you get back to your game.’

He was pleased when silence, rather than the noise of zapped aliens, followed him downstairs. Good. At least it meant the lad was thinking about what he'd said. He found his coat under the pile at the end of the bannisters and popped his head round the living room door. Abra had gone.

‘She said she'd wait in the car,’ Maggie told him.

‘Okay. I'll say good night. Kisses all round.’

‘Yuk,’ said Mickey. ‘Unkiss me. Please.

‘Get away. You know you like it really.’

Maggie followed him out and shut the door behind her. ‘Well? What happened? What did you say?’

Rafferty told her. ‘It seemed to do some good.’

‘God, I hope so. I've been that worried about him.’

Rafferty kissed her goodnight, shut the door quietly so as not to wake the neighbours and walked the few feet to the car.

‘What's up?’ Abra greeted him. ‘Family secrets?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Only something? If it's only “something like” a family secret that means it's not a secret. So you can tell me.’

Rafferty laughed. ‘You'll get it out of me eventually, my little apple strudel, so I suppose I might as well. Mind, it's to go no further.’

Abra crossed her heart and zipped her lips.

‘It's Maggie's eldest boy, Sean. She thinks he's on drugs. Usual story. Bad crowd. Bad schoolwork. Bad behaviour all round.’

‘Oh dear. As the family naughty girl where drugs are concerned’ – Abra had a conviction for drug possession – ‘I can't really comment, can I?’

‘You might try telling me what's best to say to the boy to persuade him that drugs are neither cool nor clever.’

‘God, Joe. He's half my age. He might as well be an alien race. How am I supposed to know why he's taking drugs?’

‘Why did you take them?’

Abra grinned. ‘Because I thought it was cool and clever.’

‘And what made you stop taking them?’

‘When I realized it was neither. When I started lying in bed in the mornings instead of getting up for work. When Dafyd gave me the biggest lecture of my life.’

‘Ah.’ Abra wasn't the only one who'd been on the receiving end of one of Dafyd Llewellyn's lectures. Rafferty, as his boss, was only subjected to the intellectual sort about the law and abiding by it and quotes from clever Greek and Roman buggers back in the dim and distant past. But he could imagine, with no professional ranking to worry about, his sergeant could let his hair down with his cousin. Metaphorically speaking. He'd never been known to let it down in reality, being teetotal since his youth. ‘Perhaps I ought to send him round to Maggie's and see if he can wreak a similar miracle.’

‘It'll only work if Sean's ready to change. Is he?’

Rafferty put the key in the ignition. ‘I don't know. I don't know how long it's been going on.’

Abra did up her seatbelt. ‘Well, see how it goes and bear it in mind. Any chance of stopping off at the Indian? I'm starved.’

Rafferty noted the swift change of subject and said no more. No doubt Abra had heard enough of his family's troubles to last her a lifetime, so he couldn't blame her. He just wished he could forget them so easily. But a nephew possibly on the downward spiral into the twilight world of a druggie wasn't something he could easily put from his mind.

‘You
know, I think you and the girls were right,’ said Rafferty as he plonked Abra's morning cup of tea on the bedside table.

Drowsily, she opened one eye. ‘We're women. Of course we were right.’ She sat up. ‘Right about what, anyway?’

‘About getting ma fixed up with a dating agency.’

‘You've changed your tune. I thought you were dead set against it.’

Rafferty sat on the bed and gave her her morning kiss. ‘I was. But that was before Patrick Sean suggested buying the jewellery from a man in the pub. Never let it be said that Detective Inspector Joseph Rafferty has any truck with hookey gear.’