The Returners (16 page)
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I’m awake. At least, I think I’m awake. Something’s wrong. Maybe I’m dreaming. I open my eyes. No, not dreaming. I’m in my room, on my bed. I try to move my hand and I can’t. I contemplate this for a few minutes, then let it go. It seems unimportant. I’m comfortable; I just can’t move my hands. No big deal. There’s nothing I need to move them for right now anyway.
I try to focus, but it’s like trying to hold a cloud in my hand – my mind is floating about everywhere, unable to hold a single thought for more than a nanosecond. I see images – Claire, Yan, Claire and Yan . . . I see them holding hands. I see him kissing her. It hurts like a knife in my chest. My anger flares up, but even that won’t hold; it drifts away towards the horizon.
In my mind’s eye, Yan’s a cardboard cut-out. I flick him and he falls over and Claire looks at me and smiles and she is mine again. That’s better.
But he pops up again. Yan, I mean. He isn’t a cardboard cut-out; he’s a punch-ball. I can hit him as hard as I like and he just bounces back. I need a pin. I don’t have a pin.
I ask Claire for one, but she just looks at me blankly and shakes her head.
The door opens. I’m not sure if I’ve been dreaming or daydreaming. Not sure what the difference is right now. I turn to see Dad walking in. He sits down at the end of my bed.
‘You’re awake then, son?’
I feel angry with him. I don’t know why. But my anger soon evaporates; it’s too much effort. I shut my eyes and let the feeling of floating take over. Soft and fluffy. Enveloped. Safe.
‘I’m sorry about . . . earlier. But you’re OK now. Everything’s going to be OK, Will.’
The words go in; I contemplate them; they drift out again. He’s sorry? Why? I try to remember.
‘It’s for the best, you see,’ Dad continues. ‘You’ll see. You’re young. You don’t see what I see. You don’t understand people yet. Patrick’s just looking out for you, son. He’s looking out for both of us. You and me, we’re a team. The two of us.’
I open my eyes again to look at him; they close a few seconds later. Better that way. Drifting. My hands are uncomfortable; I think about asking Dad to untie them, but can’t muster the energy. There are more important things. But what? I don’t know what is important. I can’t remember.
‘Used to be three of us. All for one and one for all? Not as far as your mother was concerned. Patrick warned me about her, and I didn’t listen. But you’re not like that, are you, Will? You understand, don’t you? About loyalty. About teamwork. We’re on the same side, me and you. You remember that, don’t you? You remember?’
I nod.
Same side
. I remember the words. We used to be on the same side. Yes, I’m sure we were. Did we stop? I see his angry face bearing down on me, I feel a surge of resentment. Why? I try to remember. I see his eyes, tired, broken. Patrick pushing me to the floor. But that was before, not now. Now there is no resentment. It feels good to be on the same side as someone. Especially Dad. I want him to like me. I feel all warm suddenly, like I’m young again. I realise why – he’s stroking my head. Like Mum used to do.
He moves further on to the bed, leans against the wall with a sigh. It’s raining, heavy drops pelt against the window. Safe and warm inside. I was outside. When? I try to concentrate, try to remember. The river. I was by the river.
‘I was by the river,’ I say, for no real reason. ‘I was there. Mum. She was there . . .’
‘That was a long time ago,’ Dad says, quietly.
I open my mouth. I want to tell him that it wasn’t, that I was there just now, just an hour ago . . . But I’m confused. Mum wasn’t there. Was she?
‘You know,’ Dad continues, ‘she wasn’t herself, your mum. At the end. He’d turned her, that bastard.’
He looks at me for a few seconds, scrutinising my face. My mouth closes. So do my eyes.
‘That’s what they do, you see. They want to take over. That’s what you’ve got to understand. That Yan, he’s like his dad. He can’t help himself – it’s in their nature. They’re parasites. They steal from people. His father tried to steal your mother. You can’t trust foreigners, Will.’
Yan. The anger flares up again. I need a pin. I need a pin.
The cloud is slowly evaporating. I frown again. I like the cloud. I like the feeling of safety. I open my eyes again. They aren’t so heavy now. I can see Dad’s face properly. He looks like he’s been crying. I frown. Dad doesn’t cry. The cloud is slowly evaporating. I frown again. I like the cloud. I like the feeling of safety.
‘The thing is, son, we have to fight them. Otherwise we’re history. Otherwise we’re going to lose this country, lose everything we’ve worked for, that our fathers have worked for. It’s like Patrick says – you don’t have someone to stay, then sit by while they tell you that half your house is now legally theirs, do you? It isn’t right. But that’s what they’ve done. They came here and now they’re taking over.’
‘Taking over,’ I manage to say. ‘Yan can’t take Claire, Dad.’
Dad looks slightly startled at the fact that I’ve spoken. ‘Don’t you worry about that Claire. She’s not worth it, son. She’s as bad as them. You’ll find someone better.’
‘There’s no one better,’ I mutter. ‘Claire, she . . .’
I trail off. I can’t explain, not now. I don’t have the words.
Dad nods. ‘All right, son. Don’t you worry. We’re going to deal with that Yan, aren’t we? We’re going to sort him out. Make sure he pays for what he’s done.’
‘Pay for what . . .’ I say, frowning. I can’t remember what he’s done. Yan. Yan and Claire. The names float around my head. The two of them together make me angry. I try to separate them, but they refuse to be parted. It hits me with a sinking feeling. She is not mine. She will not always be there. She lied. She loves Yan, not me. She loves
him
. ‘Claire loves Yan.’
‘She’s a stupid girl,’ Dad says soothingly. ‘You’re better off without her. Just like I’m better off without your mum. Women are weak, Will. But he’ll pay. He’ll pay for all of it.’
‘Yan will pay,’ I say. It feels good.
‘Yes, he will,’ Dad says. ‘And not just him. All of them. They’re laughing at us. They’re laughing, son. They take everything, and people like your mum don’t see it. They think they’re like injured animals. They want to look after them. But they’re pests, Will. Like the grey squirrel driving out the red squirrel. They don’t belong here and we have to fight for our land. Otherwise we’ll be extinct and they’ll have won.’
I bite my lip. I don’t want them to win.
‘We’re all suckers for women, aren’t we, son?’ There’s camaraderie in his voice. His eyes move down to my hands. ‘I’m sorry. About this,’ he says, gesturing to the tape. ‘Patrick doesn’t know you like I do. I knew you’d understand, if I could explain. You do understand, don’t you, son?’ He ruffles my hair.
My brain is working better, but I can’t remember where this all started. Can’t remember what I’m doing on my bed tied up. My chest hurts as though someone stamped on it.
Dad sighs heavily. ‘I don’t like arguing with you, son. I don’t,’ he says. ‘But what you said before, about us planting evidence, it’s not right. We can’t let you go around saying those things, ruining everything. Do you see?’
Planting evidence. Yes. An image of Claire flashes into my mind.
You have to tell someone official. You have to say that in court
.
We have to save Yan.
‘Save Yan. Yes. He didn’t do it.’
‘Yes, he did. You’ve got it wrong, son. No one’s planted any evidence. We just need to tie up everything. Lock the boy away. He killed a man, son. He’s a leech, just like his father.’
‘He . . . He did? Are you sure?’ I ask. My mind is buzzing.
Locked away. Away from Claire. He’s a leech. This isn’t his country. He’s got no right stealing what’s ours. What’s mine.
‘You were there. You saw it, remember?’ Dad says. ‘You remember. You saw him with your own eyes. Saw him stick the knife in. Didn’t you, son?’
My forehead is creasing in concentration. ‘I saw . . . I saw . . .’
‘You can teach the girl. Claire. You can bring her round. She likes you. I can see that now. I was wrong to stop you seeing her. Just trying to protect you, that’s all. It’s that Yan’s fault. He’s infecting her with his ideas. He’s preying on her. You need to protect
her
, son. This is your chance to make things right.’
Make things right. No more Yan. Claire to myself.
‘He was holding the knife,’ I say tentatively.
‘That’s right. He was kneeling over Mr Best, wasn’t he? Holding the knife. That’s what you saw, isn’t it?’
I nod.
England for the English. Foreigners Out
.
‘England for the English,’ I say.
Dad looks surprised. He thinks for a moment, then he smiles. ‘That’s right. That,’ he says, ‘is the future. England for the English is what Patrick wants, what we all want, son. There’s a new breed of politician. A party we can believe in. All of us. A party that sees the world like the rest of us do.’
‘A party?’ I ask.
‘Patrick’s party. Getting stronger every day, son. It’s full of people like us, people who want what we want. They run the school you’re going to go to. They’ll see you right, son.’
I digest this. ‘They’ll look after me?’
‘They’ll make you stronger. Turn you into a man, just like Patrick said. A leader. We need leaders, Will, people who aren’t afraid to stand up for what’s right. People who will reclaim our land,’ Dad says. ‘Reclaim our jobs, our taxes, our schools, our churches. Getting rid of the thieves who came here to take what’s ours.’
‘Thieves like Yan?’
Can you steal a person from someone? Yes. He stole Claire. He’s stealing her right now. I can stop him.
‘Thieves like Yan.’ Dad nods.
‘This party. They want to get rid of them all?’
‘Send them back home,’ Dad corrects me. ‘Send them back to where they came from.’
‘And they can’t come back?’
Dad shakes his head. ‘Not if I have anything to do with it.’
‘So Yan could be sent away? Not sent to prison?’
‘Yan committed a crime. He’s got to pay for that, son. You know that. His dad never paid,’ Dad says looking down. ‘He never paid for what he did. His son isn’t going to get away with it like he did.’
‘What did Yan’s dad do?’
Dad looks down and swallows. ‘He’s responsible,’ he says under his breath. ‘He knows what he did.’
I feel my stomach clench. ‘Mum?’ I say.
An image. A memory. I had forgotten; now I remember. Dad, angry, pinning me down on the sofa. ‘Has that man been here? Have you seen him in the house?’
I am scared. I don’t know what to say.
‘Son, I’m asking you. We’re on the same side, me and you. You’re my boy. You tell me the truth and everything’s going to be OK. I just need to know. Has he been in the house?’
Mum is in the other room. They have been arguing, fighting – things have been smashed. I have been sitting on the sofa watching the television loudly. I look up at Dad. He lets go of me. He is calmer.
‘Just tell me, Will. Just tell me the truth. You know we’ve always taught you to tell the truth.’
I take a deep breath. I nod.
‘He was here? In the house? With your mother?’
I nod again.
‘Thank you, son. Thank you.’
The image disappears. Dad closes his eyes for a moment, then he looks me right in the eye. ‘That’s right, son. That boy’s father as good as killed your mum,’ he says. ‘He as good as took a knife and plunged it into her. You remember now, don’t you?’
I search my mind; my head is starting to pound.
An image. Mum, in the water. I can see her. She is trying to stay afloat.
‘He killed Mum?’
I am sweating. I am hot, cold. There is a man there. She is drowning, going under. I can’t help. I can’t do anything. He is letting her die.
‘Now do you want to see Yan pay? Now do you understand?’ Dad asks.
I can’t breathe. My chest is constricting.
Mum. Mum. No! No, please . . . It is too late. My mum has gone. She will never come back. Everything is over, everything is changed.
‘Son? Son, are you all right?’
Claire does not love me. She loves him. She lied. He has taken her from me.
They will pay. They will not take what isn’t theirs any more. They will see that I am strong, that I am stronger than them. They will pay for what they have done
. I nod. ‘He’ll pay,’ I say. I am seething. I am full of red-hot fury. I will make them wish they’d never crossed me. I look down at my hands and Dad reddens.
‘We’ll get rid of this, shall we?’ he asks, taking out some scissors and cutting the tape. ‘Like I say, son, I was just trying to protect you. You understand, don’t you? We’re on the same side me and you. We’ll always be on the same side, won’t we?’
He looks at me expectantly, hopefully. I hold his gaze for a few seconds. Then I nod. I am not good. I am what I am. Douglas was right.
‘The same side,’ I say. I am strong. They will see. I will make them see. No one crosses me.
