The New Neighbours (51 page)

“No, sorry, mate,” Mike had replied. “Not this weekend, I'm away.” There was more than he thought, and he sorted it out as he packed. Should be worth at least another hundred to Scott, this lot, he thought. There were some good CDs this time, but it would be the last of those for a while. He'd been buying magazines in a newsagent in town that sold sealed and packaged CDs as well and he had managed to smuggle several of them out on different occasions before disaster struck.

It had been on a Saturday morning when the shop was quite busy. Oliver paid for his magazine and them wandered over to the CD rack. For a long time, there was no opportunity to slide a CD between the pages of his magazine, and he realised afterwards that had been his mistake, he'd been hanging round the rack for too long and alerting the suspicions of Noshir Patel who ran the shop. As he reached the pavement a hand fell on his arm and Mr Patel's quiet voice said, “Excuse me young man, but I think you have not paid for all you are taking away.”

Oliver looked up sharply, and tried to jerk his arm away, but Mr Patel had a firmer grip on his arm than he had realised and Oliver couldn't break free. Protesting he didn't know what the shopkeeper was talking about, he was piloted back inside and taken to a tiny office at the back. There Patel removed the magazine from his grasp and revealed the CD wrapped inside it.

“What then is this?” he asked holding it up, and before Oliver could answer, Patel turned to his wife who was at the desk and said, “Ring the police!”

For a split second, as Oliver watched her dial the police station, he felt a wave of panic, but then he pulled himself together and decided how to play it.

“Oh, please don't call the police,” he begged. “I've never done anything like this before… it's just, well it's my dad's birthday next week, and I couldn't afford to get him a present. He likes music, my dad.” He looked appealingly up at Noshir Patel, allowing his eyes to fill with tears, a trick he had always been able to manage, but the shopkeeper seemed unimpressed.

“I always call the police,” was all he said, and then they waited for them to arrive. Mrs Patel went out into the shop to help serve in her husband's place, shutting the office door firmly behind her. Oliver considered his chances of making a dash for it and getting out of the shop, safely away into the crowd of Saturday morning shoppers, but he knew two of Mr Patel's sons were in the shop, and even if he did make a run for it out of the office, he knew he'd never get to the street.

Oliver tried again. Looking at Mr Patel with eyes brimming with tears, he said “I'm very sorry, Mr Patel, really I am. I didn't mean any harm. I'll never do anything so awful again. It's my dad's birthday, see?” The birthday had been an inspiration. Oliver's dad did indeed have a birthday in the coming week, and he hoped if he kept saying as much, they might believe it was a first and only offence, a dreadful mistake, made simply to get his dad a present.

“What is your name, boy?” Patel asked.

“Oliver Hooper,” murmured Oliver. He looked across at the shopkeeper. “I really am sorry, Mr Patel, I don't know what came over me.”

At that moment, the office door opened again and Mrs Patel led in a policeman and a policewoman.

“This is the boy,” Mrs Patel said. “He took a CD and hid it in a magazine. I think he has done it before. Lots of our CDs have gone missing.”

“Oh, no, I haven't,” wailed Oliver. “This is the first time, honestly! I'm so sorry, Mr Patel. I've never done it before, honestly.”

“I think there is nothing honest about you,” retorted Mrs Patel, entirely unmoved by his outburst. “You are a thief!”

The policeman cleared his throat and said, “Yes, madam, well, we'll deal with this now. Will you be pressing charges?”

“Yes,” replied Mrs Patel firmly.

“Maybe,” answered her husband at the same time.

“I'm PC Davison,” said the policeman, turning to Oliver. “What's your name, son, and where do you live?”

Oliver gave his name and address, and then Davison said, “Well, I think we'll go down to the station and get your parents to come in. We'll talk about things down there.”

The two police officers took an arm each and Oliver was led unceremoniously out of the shop and hustled into the waiting police car. As he climbed into the back of the car, the policewoman at his side, he saw there was an interested group gathered to watch the proceedings, and there, disaster upon disaster, was Chantal Haven. She stared at him as he was put in the car, saw that he was in trouble and a slow smile spread across her face, a smile of triumph and revenge. It was not a smile that Oliver was likely to forget in a long time.

When they reached the police station he sat in an interview room and waited for his parents to arrive, well his dad and Annie. They were soon there and greeted Oliver with shock when they heard what he'd done. Oliver manufactured the tears again and said on a sob, “I'm sorry, Dad, I'm sorry.”

“When is your birthday, sir?” enquired PC Davison.

Steve looked at him in surprise. “My birthday? Wednesday,” he said.

“Why?”

“Your son says he took the CD to give you as a present.”

“Oh, Ollie,” Steve looked at him in exasperation. “What will you do next?”

Oliver said nothing, and Davison asked, “Has Oliver been in any trouble like this before, sir?”

“No! None!” cried Steve. “I can't think what's got into him?”

There was more discussion and the sergeant was called in from the front desk. Finally, after more talks with Mr Patel who had followed them to the police station, it was decided that Oliver should be cautioned, not charged with theft, and after yet more time and paperwork, he left the police station flanked by his father and stepmother, and was driven straight home.

There were more recriminations there of course, but Oliver let them wash over him. He'd escaped! He wasn't going to end up in court. He wasn't going to be sent to a Young Offender Centre. He'd heard enough from Scott to know that it was not a place he wanted to go.

He looked at the CDs in his hands, the ones he had removed successfully before, and was glad they'd been hidden here. His father had been told that CDs had been going missing over a period of time, and Oliver was pretty certain that his room had been thoroughly searched while he was at school for any evidence of them. He didn't ask, but he knew. It was why leaving stuff there from now on would be risky, Annie might search again at any time when he was out; on the other hand, if she hadn't found anything the last time, and she hadn't, then she might not bother again.

Oliver hadn't told Scott of his run-in with the police. There was no need to worry him with what was over and done with, it wasn't going to happen again, and he didn't want Scott refusing to deal with him any more simply because he'd got careless once.

When all his packing was done he slid out of the shed again and went to look for Scott at the fence. There was no sign of him. Where the hell was he? Oliver didn't feel in any danger in the dark shelter of the trees at the bottom of the Smarts' garden, but it was getting cold, and he wanted to go home to bed. He looked at his watch. It was well past one o'clock. Something must have gone wrong. He'd have to find out from Jay on Monday morning, but they couldn't wait much longer or the Smarts would be home and looking in their garden shed.

Quietly he shut the shed door and made his way round the side of the house, intending to slip out of the side gate into the Circle, but as he approached the gate he saw a flashing blue light. Cautiously he peered over the gate and saw two police cars parked outside the house. He ducked down again at once.

“Fucking hell!” he whispered, “How the hell did they find out?” Had Scott been caught and talked? He hurried back into the bottom fence and swung himself over on to the track beyond. He listened. There was no sound. Then it struck him. There was no sound! The music blasting from the party at the student house had stopped. “That's why the filth are here,” he murmured, and slipping along beside the fence and through the cut, he waited in the shadows between the fences to see what was going on.

There was group of residents from various houses standing outside the Madhouse, watching as students came out and wandered off round the Circle towards the town. Even as he watched, the residents began to melt away back to their own houses. Then a policewoman emerged from the student house, and with her, her wrist gripped firmly by the policewoman, was Chantal Haven. Oliver watched in delight as the girl was marched away to her own home, and wished Chantal had seen him, revelling in her discomfort as she had in his a few days earlier. He continued to watch as the Havens' front door opened, and he saw Annabel in the light from the porch. Oliver hadn't seen her for some time, but there was something strange about her, she looked different, and then as she turned sideways on to let her sister pass into the house, he realised. She was pregnant! Oliver was wondering idly who the father was when it struck him suddenly that of course he knew. It was Scott Manders! Of course it was! That's what that note had been all about. Oliver hugged himself in delight. Now he really did have something on Scott, and something on Annabel too, maybe.

He stayed in the shadows and watched as the policewoman returned and the police cars drove away. He was about to move on home himself when someone else came out of the house. Oliver stepped back into the shadows, not wanting to be seen anywhere near the Smarts' house, and recognised Jill Hammond, going slowly back to her house.

Mrs Hammond! Oliver almost whistled in his surprise. Now what in shit was she doing at the student party? He had seen Mr Hammond in the group by the front door, but he'd left several minutes earlier. Mrs Hammond walked to her house without looking back, but someone was standing at the door of the student house watching her. Oliver didn't know his name, but it was the student with the ponytail, the one he'd seen working in the Hammonds' garden. Oliver smiled a secret smile. When he got home, he would keep a note of all he had seen this evening in what he called his information book. Information was power, and though he had no idea how or when he would use the information he had collected, he knew that to have it, to know things about people, might give him some hold over them. It was a feeling he hugged to himself in pleasure.

Now all he had to sort out was what had happened to Scott and to get the stash safely away in Scott's van. He hoped they wouldn't have to wait until next Saturday; Sunday was always a good day for Scott to move the stuff along, but maybe next Saturday would be too late.

Oliver had no way of contacting Scott except through Jay, so there was little he could do the next day, and he hung about at home. There was minor excitement in the Circle when an ambulance arrived and took Mrs Peters from the house next door, but otherwise the day was very boring.

“Died sitting in her chair,” Annie said, having been out to see what had happened. “That's the way to go, I suppose, she was a good age.”

On Monday morning, Oliver was collecting the dues from the juniors when Jay came hurrying in through the school gates. Oliver grabbed his arm. “Want a word with you, mate,” he said.

They moved out of earshot of the arriving pupils and Oliver said, “Where the hell's Scott? He was due to pick up stuff from me on Saturday night and he never showed.”

Jay shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “Ain't seen 'im all weekend. Didn't come round our place.”

“Well, you'd better find out,” Oliver told him sharply, “or we could all be in the shit. Gotta get the stuff moved out fast, right? You tell him. Bring the van tonight, half ten.”

Jay nodded. “OK mate,” he said. “I'll try and find 'im this afternoon. I got a skive on anyway.”

“Where you going?” asked Oliver.

Jay tapped the side of his nose. “Business,” he said and grinned. “Come on, mate, there's kids out there waiting to pay their dues. Mustn't let them slip, eh?”

That night Oliver was in the Smarts' garden by half past ten, but Scott didn't come and after waiting nearly an hour, Oliver went back home to bed. In the morning, he collared Jay the moment he walked through the gates.

“Where the hell's your brother?” he muttered. “He didn't come last night, either.”

“No,” agreed Jay. “An' 'e won't be coming, neither. 'E got picked up, and 'e's in the nick.”

“What?!” exclaimed Oliver, horrified.

“Yeah, picked up Saturday, 'e was. Loading some computer gear he 'ad stashed in a garage. Must've been watching the place. I ain't seen 'im, but somebody must've grassed 'im up.”

“Who?”

Jay shrugged his usual shrug. “Dunno, but I wouldn't like to be them if Scott knows who it is.”

“So, what happens next?”

“'E'll be up in court today and then out on bail… maybe. Depends on the beak.”

“Hmm,” Oliver thought for a moment. “Well, if he gets out, tell him we've got to talk. OK?”

“Yeah, OK. If I see 'im.”

“Jay, you've got to see him, right? It's important. We've got stuff to shift.”

“ 'E may not want it now,” pointed out Jay. “I'll take it off yer, if yer like.”

“Better wait for Scott to decide,” Oliver replied, not wanting Jay as part of the deal if he didn't need him.

Jay agreed readily enough to wait and see what happened, he didn't relish invading Scott's territory without permission, and he was pretty sure Scott would get bail.

It was Thursday, however, before Oliver saw Scott waiting on the corner at the end of school. He crossed over quickly and said, “You got out then?”

“Yeah, for now.” Scott walked swiftly down the road and Oliver followed him to the Roxy café. Scott collected two mugs of tea and they sat down at a corner table.