Jack Slater - No Way Home

His aim was way off. Tommy’s move had brought him further and higher than Lockhart had anticipated so that his forehead struck Tommy in the chest.

It was like being hit with a hammer. It stunned his ribcage into inactivity, but survival was Tommy’s only motivation now and inactivity would not allow that. As Lockhart’s head fell back, Tommy relaxed his arms, falling flat on top of him, at the same time ducking his head so that his teeth hit Lockhart in the face.

Quickly, Tommy opened his mouth. Snapped his jaws closed.

Lockhart howled as his nose was caught between Tommy’s sharp front teeth. Tommy squeezed down on the warm skin and cartilage, stretching his lips wide open.

‘I thought we had an understanding,’ he said through his tightly clamped teeth. ‘What did I say this morning about biting your ugly nose off?’

‘Get off me or I’ll fucking kill you, you little bastard.’

‘Promises, promises.’ Tommy adjusted the grip of his teeth on the larger boy’s nose. ‘And, talking of…’

‘No!’ Lockhart shouted.

Tommy bit down hard. He could feel the grease of the other kid’s nose. The give of his nostril walls against his tongue and the roof of his mouth as Lockhart howled in pain and terror. Then something wet and warm in his mouth. He hoped it wasn’t… No, he tasted the iron tang of blood. Kept on bearing down with his teeth as he shifted his right hand from under him to grasp the back of Lockhart’s neck, pulling him in so he couldn’t escape.

Other hands were grasping and pulling at him, trying to pull him off the other boy. Lockhart’s left fist was pounding on his back, but he barely felt it. His whole awareness was focused on what was between his teeth.

‘Get off me! Get off me!’ Lockhart bellowed. Then he jerked upwards under Tommy, forcing him backwards. Tommy went with him. Used the opportunity to slide his arm around behind Lockhart’s neck and lock his hand over his own shoulder, clamping them tightly together as his other hand let go of his arm and came up around his head to grasp his ear.

Tommy gripped the ear, pulling back on it hard. He felt warm blood trickling down his chin.

‘Tommy Gayle! Release him at once.’

That wasn’t a kid’s voice, like all the others yelling around him. But Tommy was committed. He wasn’t going to back off now. He ground his teeth, making Lockhart howl even louder. Then a big hand gripped the back of his shirt and another got hold of his jaw, finger and thumb pressing in painfully from either side.

‘Let him go.’ The voice was as slow, firm and implacable as the fingers pushing into his cheeks, but Tommy was committed. There was no winning here. Not any more. But he couldn’t give in. Couldn’t show a trace of weakness or pity.

He pulled harder on Lockhart’s left ear, twisting at the same time. Lockhart wailed. The blood flowed even more freely from his nose, dripping steadily from Tommy’s chin. Agony coursed through his cheeks and jaw.

‘Gayle, let go. Now.’ The warder’s voice was harder, angrier, as he held on relentlessly. ‘Give it up or I’ll break your damned jaw and where’ll that get you, d’you think?’

Tommy saw the chance and took it. Tugging even harder on Lockhart’s ear, he opened his mouth and looked up at the warder, grinning, his chin red and dripping with blood. ‘Nowhere I haven’t been a hundred times before.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pete pulled into his drive and switched off the headlights, glad to be home – and glad there was no new decoration on the garage door. He killed the engine as the front door opened, expecting Annie to come running out and greet him.

He was surprised when, instead, it was Louise who came out, closing the door behind her and standing on the doorstep, arms folded.

He stepped out of the car, took his briefcase from the back seat and locked the silver Ford.

‘Lou? What’s up?’

Her eyes closed, her face scrunching up with emotion as her arms dropped to her sides. Then she took a breath, opened her eyes and the tears ran down her face as he dropped his briefcase and gathered her into his arms. ‘What is it, love?’

A sob escaped from her throat, then she swallowed. ‘It’s Tommy,’ she whispered, clinging to him.

Pete felt icy fear grip his body, freezing him in place like a living statue. ‘What about him?’

He wanted desperately to see her face, but she clung even more tightly to him, her bead buried into his shoulder. ‘He’s… We can’t see him. I phoned a few minutes ago. He had to be there a day before they allowed visitors. Settling-in time, they said. So I phoned to arrange it for tomorrow, after school. For me and Annie. But…’ She began to cry again. Conflicting emotions battled within Pete. Love and protectiveness for Louise made him hold onto her, comfort her as best he could, while the need to know about his son raged, For God’s sake, spit it out, woman! What’s happened? But he held on, stroking her hair with one hand while she clung to him, sobbing into the shoulder of his jacket until she finally gulped, shook her head and loosed her grip around his body.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘But…’

‘What is it, love? What’s happened?’ he asked gently.

‘He’s… He nearly bit some boy’s nose off. On his first day! My God, what have we raised, Pete?’

Some of the contents of the file Simon Phillips had compiled on Tommy while searching for him last year flashed through Pete’s mind and he wondered the same thing – as he had done since reading the file, months ago. Yet, his fatherly instinct kicked in behind the doubt, pushing it down, feeding that tiny residue of pride that he would never lose. Surviving, probably , he thought. Knowing what kinds of kids end up in those places and the softly, softly approach they have to use with them, these days…

He almost asked again: what happened? But no one would have the answer other than Tommy and some of the other inmates, he guessed. The staff would just have come upon the end result. Kids weren’t stupid – especially, in some ways, the kinds of kids who ended up in places like Archways. It would be a huge mistake to underestimate them, and one he’d learned long ago not to make when dealing with criminals of any age.

‘So, they’ve put him in solitary,’ he guessed. It was the ultimate punishment in places like that. ‘How long for?’

‘A day.’ Head tipped forward, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Then she looked up at him, her eyes large and moist. ‘How did it come to this? Where did we go so wrong?’

‘We can’t have gone completely wrong. Look at Annie.’

The girl had been a minor miracle last year, after Tommy disappeared. As Louise had spiralled downhill into a deep clinical depression, so their daughter had stepped up, almost to the point of swapping roles with her mother, taking on responsibilities an eleven-year-old never should have needed to.

‘Yes, but…’ Louise shook her head. ‘It’s like he’s got the Devil inside him. He’s…’

‘He’s our son,’ he said firmly. ‘He’s got his problems, but he’s surviving the only way he can. He knows the score. He’s not daft. He wouldn’t have done something like that without needing to.’

‘Yes, but… to try to bite somebody’s nose off!’

‘He’s been a snotty little bugger for years.’

She stood back, staring up into his face. ‘Really? You can joke at a time like this? Jesus! No wonder we’ve raised a bloody psycho.’ She spun away, heading for the door.

Something stirred in Pete’s chest. Fear, anger, he didn’t know, but… ‘Don’t ever call him that. He might be troubled. He might be in trouble, but he’s no psycho. Rosie Whitlock will testify to that.’ He snatched up his briefcase and followed her as she opened the front door and stepped in.