The New Neighbours (30 page)

“Head Teacher, Dad,” Oliver corrected him belligerently. “I don't go to a school where there's a headmaster any more. Remember?”

Steve understood how bitter Oliver felt, and he ignored his son's rudeness. “You ask for Mr Curtis and he'll have someone ready to… show you around.” Steve had nearly said, “To look after you,” but had hastily altered the words. He and Oliver had already been to the school and met Mr Curtis, and as Oliver was adamant that he should go by himself, Steve decided to let him.

“You'll be in year ten, Oliver,” Mr Curtis had said. “Mr Dawson'll be your tutor. Any problems, you go to him. I'll have someone waiting to show you where to go on the first morning.”

The person waiting had been a boy called David Hicks, short with smooth fair hair; he was wearing dark school uniform trousers and sweater, and carrying an old briefcase. Oliver disliked him on sight, but he followed him to the classroom that was to be his tutorial room and there he met Mr Dawson, who greeted him cheerfully and introduced him to the rest of the group. Oliver didn't like Mr Dawson either, indeed the only person he did like that day was another boy in the group, whose name was Jay Manders. He was small and wiry, with long hair that curled on to his shoulders, and a broken front tooth. His eyes were sharp and darting, and he picked up immediately on Oliver's resentful expression. He didn't wear school uniform either.

At first break he came up to Oliver and said, “OK, mate?”

Oliver shrugged. “Fucking awful place!” he said.

Jay grinned. “Not when you got it sussed, mate,” he said. He jerked his head, “You stick with me, you'll be OK.” And so it seemed. No one else came near them, which suited Oliver, and as he got his bearings he began to recognise something familiar in Jay. He was so completely different from Drew Elliott, and yet there were echoes; the same subtle feeling of power came from each, that fugitive power Oliver craved yet only tasted from time to time; and each appeared to be in charge of his own destiny, which Oliver was certain he was not. The others in the group, both girls and boys, seemed to steer well clear of him, and David Hicks, seeing his charge taken over by Jay, left him to it.

Even on that first day, Oliver came to realise that hanging out with Jay was a good move. Jay, with Oliver in tow, walked to the front of the queue in the canteen, and collected his food without waiting in line. Oliver did the same. There was no protest from those whom they'd queue barged, they simply relinquished their places to Jay and his friend.

They carried their trays to a table by a window. Two other boys were already sitting there, but they moved up and made space at once.

“Oliver 'Ooper.” Jay waved his fork in Oliver's direction. “Jackie Farmer, and Doss Eldon.” He stuck his fork into a sausage and chomping the end of it off, asked, “How much so far?”

“'Bout twenty-five,” answered Jackie, and pulling a fistful of money from his pocket slid it across the table. It was all in change, 20ps, 10ps the occasional 50p or £1 coins amongst them.

“All pay up?”

“Mostly, a couple needed reminding. They'll pay tomorrer.”

Jay looked at Oliver. “We look after some of the younger kids, see?” he said, scooping the money into his hand and putting it into his pocket. “Don't allow no bullying. They pay up on a Monday, regular, an' we look after 'em.”

Oliver held his gaze for a moment before he shrugged and nodded.

“Sounds fair,” he said, and began to eat his own sausage and chips.

“The only guy you 'ave to watch out for is Martin Collins,” Jay warned him, pointing out a red-headed youth across the yard. “But when he goes in the summer, the place'll be ours.”

Over the coming days Oliver got to know quite a lot about Jay Manders. He was feared by most of the younger children in the school, and commanded a healthy respect amongst many of the older ones, and even Martin Collins and his gang left him alone.

He lived with his mother and his brother Barry, in council flat on the Crosshills estate. “Me dad don't live with us no more. It's me, Bazzer, an' Mum, an' 'er boyfriend, Wayne. He's a right tosser an' all. She's welcome to 'im. I'm off, soon as I get out of 'ere.”

“Where will you live?” Oliver asked.

“Got two bruvvers, see,” Jay answered. “Scott, what's inside just now, and Bazzer. Bazzer'll stay wiv Mum, but not me. Might live wiv Scott. 'E's got a place.” He was clearly very proud of his eldest brother. “They was 'ere, Scot an' Baz at this school. Most of the older kids remember them,” he grinned knowingly, “from when they was younger an' Scott looked after 'em, like I do now.”

“Why's Scott inside?” ventured Oliver.

“He was like, running a business, see? 'Ad some stuff stashed round 'is place and the filth come round an' found it. I told you, 'e don't live at home no more, and Baz was round 'is place when they come. 'E nearly got done, an' all, for 'avin' a stolen mobile. Took down the nick 'e was, but they knew it weren't 'im what lived there, so they give 'im a caution for the phone an' let 'im off. When Scott got 'ome they was waitin'. Done 'im for 'andlin'. He got nine months.”

“What sort of stuff had he got?” Oliver asked intrigued.

Jay shrugged. “TVs, videos and the like. An' a lot of small stuff, out the supermarkets. Got a crowd of women working for 'im. They get the stuff and 'e buys it off 'em.”

Oliver was very interested in this. After his success with the stolen charge card in the Easter holidays, he had tried his hand at shoplifting. He hadn't realised how easy it would be if he were careful. Over the summer holidays, he had been working all the main stores in town, all except Harper and Hill, of course, where Annie was one of the store detectives. Even that he put to his advantage though, asking her about her work and how she spotted shoplifters.

“How do you know who's stealing and who's just looking?” he asked innocently, and Annie, anxious to establish an easier relationship with him, explained many of the tricks of the shoplifter and how she countered them. Oliver stored the information away for future reference. Information was a type of power, he decided, and he would use it to his advantage.

Over the weeks, he had gathered a fair amount of stuff that he needed to offload somewhere. At the moment it was mostly small items, things which could be easily concealed under a jacket or in a pocket, and these he'd hidden for the time being in the shed at number nine.

Both the Smarts and the Redwoods had corner plots and so had slightly larger gardens than the other houses. Between these was a small footpath that cut through to a narrow rutted track beyond. This track had originally given back access to Dartmouth House before the Circle had been built in its grounds. Edged on the other side by allotments, it now ran behind the houses on the south side of the Circle before emerging some half a mile away between two buildings on to the Crosshills Road. It was a short cut from the Circle to the Crosshills district of Belcaster, and as such, Oliver used it every day on his way to school. The cut, as it was called, ran between the garden fences of numbers eight and nine, and it was while slouching home from school one day Oliver had seen the shed in the Smarts' garden and was suddenly hit by its possibilities. As he emerged into the Circle, all was quiet, so he slipped through the Smarts' side gate and went to have a look. The shed had one small window, and a sturdy door with a large bolt, but to Oliver's surprise there was no key or padlock securing the bolt, and he drew it back easily and looked inside. There he found a work bench with some tools, a lawn mower, a strimmer and a hedge trimmer. There was plenty of space as well, however. Clearly the shed was new and the Smarts hadn't begun to accumulate all the rubbish one would expect to find in there.

It wasn't long before Oliver had a system going. Anything he wanted to hide in the shed, he put into plastic carrier bags and dropped over the bottom fence. The shed itself shielded him from the windows of Dartmouth Circle, and provided no one else was on the track or in the allotments, he knew he was entirely unobserved. Then later, when it was getting dark, he would slip into the Smarts' garden, retrieve the carrier bags and stow them inside the shed. He even left an old rugby ball tucked behind a bush, in case he was seen and needed to have an explanation for being in the garden at all. It would be fine whilst the Smarts were still away, but he'd have to clear everything away before they got back, and that's where he hoped Scott might come in.

“When's he get out?” Oliver asked casually.

Jay shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “Some time soon. 'E'll only do 'bout four months if 'e keeps 'is nose clean. Why?”

“Sounds a real guy,” Oliver said. “Like to meet him.”

“Yeah? Well, I'll tell 'im, when 'e come out.”

Having heard about Scott, Oliver decided not to tell Jay about his stash. He thought he'd rather deal with Scott, but he did decide to increase what he had to offer. He got a real buzz from working the shopping centre. He'd got more adventurous and had occasionally taken stuff from unlocked cars including two handbags complete with cheque books and cards. He couldn't use them of course because they belonged to women, but he added them to the varied selection of clothes, blank videos, batteries, toiletries and even some bottles of booze that he had stashed in the Smarts' shed. He was certain from what Jay said that Scott would know what to do with them. Gradually he settled into life at Crosshills. He didn't make any other friends, being a friend of Jay's set him aside from the other guys, but he didn't care. There were reasonable sports facilities at Crosshills and when made to choose a major sport, Oliver opted for rugby. He'd always enjoyed it at Beechlands, and at Chapmans he'd been in the under-fourteen team, and here he found, in spite of himself, he still enjoyed playing. He did enough work to keep the teachers off his back, though it was nothing like the workload he'd had before and to all intents and purposes he settled into the school well. His father was both pleased and relieved, but unknown to him Oliver had an agenda of his own. When he went into business with Scott Manders, as he fully intended to, he would make enough cash to leave home the moment he was sixteen. He wouldn't live with Dad and bitch Annie or Mum and creep Oslo; he'd live on his own and take charge of his own life, and no one would tell him what to do.

“They can't make you come 'ome when you're sixteen,” Jay had told him when outlining his own plans. “You don't 'ave to go to school no more.”

As part of Jay's gang, Oliver took his turn at parting the juniors from their money. He liked to see the hunted look in their eyes as they handed over the money. They were afraid of him and he enjoyed their fear. Jay gave him a cut of the take, as he did the others, but Oliver was not interested in the cash, it was the power to take it that gave him the buzz.

It was about three weeks later, just before half term, that Jay came into school one day and said, “'Ere Oliver, Scott's come 'ome yesterday. I told 'im you was interested in doin' a bit of business, and 'e said 'e'd met you at the Rec after school today.”

“Cool,” Oliver agreed, feeling his mouth go dry.

Scott was waiting at the entrance to the playground, lounging against the fence idly watching the young children playing on the swings. He turned as Oliver and Jay approached, surveying Oliver.

“Hey, Scottie, this is Oliver who I told you about,” Jay said.

“Yeah, OK,” Scott nodded at Oliver and indicated with a jerk of his head that Jay should disappear. With only a look of disappointment for argument, Jay said, “Yeah, well see you later,” and loped off towards the town.

“Jay said you had some business for me,” Scott said, glancing round casually as if to check for watchers. Oliver did the same, but could see no one except the mothers and children in the playground, and an old lady walking her dog. “Yeah,” Oliver replied, “got some stuff to shift.”

“Like what?”

“Good car boot stuff mostly.” Oliver hadn't known where Scott sold his goods on, but had guessed car boot sales were a probability, and from the flicker in Scott's eyes when he said this he was pretty sure he'd guessed right.

“Like what?” asked Scott again.

“Like, clothes, toiletries, tools, garden stuff, you know. Oh, and a couple of switch cards and driving licences if you know where to unload those.”

Scott looked at Oliver with new respect. He hadn't been that keen on meeting Jay's new posh mate on his first real day out, but he wanted to get back into business as soon as possible, and this would give him a start. He still had the lock-up with the proceeds from the computer shop robbery, but that had never been pinned on him and he didn't want to start unloading that stuff just yet, as he was fairly certain the filth were going to be keeping an eye on him. He'd sold his van that very morning and was in the process of finding a replacement, but Oliver's stuff could be very useful for some quick cash.

“You better show me,” he said, drifting off towards the main road. Oliver followed. “Where d'you keep it?”

“In the shed of an empty house near us.”

“Don't the neighbours notice nothing?”

“No, there's a track down the back of the garden,” Oliver explained “and I just dump everything over the fence. Then when it's quiet, I just go in the garden and stash the stuff in the shed.”

“Show me,” ordered Scott, liking the sound of Oliver's stash. He might make use of it himself until he was sure it was safe to go back to the lock-up.

Oliver took his usual way home and they were soon on the track behind the Circle.

“'Ere, what houses are these?” Scott demanded as they approached.

“Dartmouth Circle,” Oliver replied. “Why? There's a footpath through from this track.”