Trickster by Sam Michaels

Author:Sam Michaels [Michaels, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2019-03-11T16:00:00+00:00

25

The following morning, Billy sat in his father’s armchair with his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands placed behind his head.

‘Very comfortable,’ he said out loud to himself, ‘and this will be my chair from now on.’

Now that his father was out of the way, he was savouring the thought of being the man of the house. But first he had to tell his mother that his dad would never be coming home again. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He’d considered saying that his dad had run off with one of the Livingstone Road brasses, but Billy didn’t want to see his dear mother hurt. He loved her and would do all he could to protect her from any unnecessary pain. He thought about telling her there had been an accident, but it left too many questions, and his mother would want a proper funeral. In the end, he decided on gently breaking it to her that the Liverpool gang had killed him. It was the kindest way he could think of.

She’d been gone for the weekend, but he was sure she’d be home soon, and hoped it would be in time to cook his dinner. He always looked forward to a Sunday roast, though there’d be one less place setting at the table today. He imagined the scene: he’d be carving the meat in place of his father and his mother would be looking at him adoringly. The only blot on his landscape was Sally. Perhaps he’d carve her up instead of the roast beef!

Billy heard the front door open, then Sally came into the lounge, closely followed by his mother. Sally eyed him up and down, then gave him a filthy look before stomping back out and up the stairs. He detested her, and just her presence alone irritated him. He only tolerated her for his mother’s sake.

He thought his mum looked elegant in a black wool coat that draped loosely over her slender shoulders, edged in thick fur round the neck and wide, open cuffs. He could see she was wearing a crimson dress with a black lace hem, and she wore a set of long ebony beads. She was surely the most glamorous woman in Battersea, a cut above the rest.

‘Sally, come down and take your sister upstairs with you please,’ she called, pulling off her red gloves, then turned to Billy and asked, ‘Where’s your father?’

Billy stood up from his dad’s armchair. ‘Sit down, Mum.’

‘I don’t want to sit down. Just tell me where your dad is.’

He could tell she’d sensed something was wrong. ‘I’ve got something terrible to tell you,’ he said gently. ‘Dad’s been killed. The Portland Pounders finished him off. I’m sorry, Mum, there was nothing I could do.’

He saw his mother’s legs buckle and hurried forward, grabbing her under her arms as she began to drop.

‘No… no… no, Billy. You’ve got it wrong… Where’s your father?’

Billy gently pulled her towards the sofa and eased her down. She sat stunned, and stared up into his eyes, searching for answers.

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