OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL GATES, JACK JR. GLANCED NERVOUSLY from right to left, then walked along towards the town centre. He had stayed after school to hunt for a lost football shoe, but he’d not found it and missed the bus home. Now he had to decide whether to phone his mother, who would be furious on both counts. She would insist on coming to collect him, with the kids packed into her old car, whatever he said about getting a lift. Or he could try finding his friend Lenny’s house and fix up a bed for the night, then ring her and lie, saying he’d been invited. He found lying easy now, since his father had gone. So many times there had been muddles and misunderstandings between him and his mother, and he had finally decided that he’d tell her just what she wanted to hear, and leave it at that.
He trudged along, head down, and did not see the man approach, waiting for him on the corner.
“Where are you off to, then, young Jack?”
Jack stopped abruptly, staring at the man. He had not heard or seen him for several days and had been relieved, thinking he had finally given up. “Mind your own business,” he said.
“Now, now, no need to be rude,” the man said. “Specially as I’ve brought you some nice sweeties. Your favourites. Velly cheap, velly nice, as the Chinaman said. How many would you like?”
“Go away!” Jack said, his voice rising in fear. “If you don’t leave me alone, I shall get Mum to go to the police. Go away!” He was now close to screaming, and the man glared at him. “Shut yer face, kid,” he said. “Your ma would never go to the police, not after what your precious father done!”
Jack dodged around him and ran full pelt along a side street, not stopping until he thought the man was no longer following him. But when he stopped for breath, he looked back and saw him rounding the corner and waving his hand. Jack looked desperately along the street and saw a signboard saying “New Brooms-We Sweep Cleaner.” He opened the door and dashed in, saying, “Can I use your toilet? Got took short.”
Hazel Thornbull looked at him in surprise. “Yes, you can,” she said. “And don’t nick anything.” This last was an afterthought. Sebastopol Street was in a poorer part of Tresham, and they’d already been broken into once. A computer stolen, and the place trashed. But this was a lad on his own, and he seemed genuine enough. In fact, he looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. She decided to have a talk with him before he left.
Just then the door opened again, and a man came in, smiling broadly. “Afternoon, miss,” he said. “I suppose you haven’t seen a boy running by? I thought I saw him dodge in here, actually. My son, the little devil, knows he’s in for a good talking-to for not doing his homework. I’ve just been seeing his teacher.”
Hazel thought rapidly before she shook her head. There was something unpleasant about the man. Too smooth, too ready with a plausible explanation. “No, nobody’s been in here since lunchtime. Sorry. Good afternoon.”
At this moment, she saw a reflection in the window of Jack Jr. coming out of the toilet in the back office. She stood up quickly and placed herself in the doorway, so that he could not be seen. Then she said loudly so that Jack would hear, that she hadn’t had any boys in her office, and she was about to lock up, so would he please leave.
When he had gone, she drew the blind and locked the door. Then she turned to Jack Jr. and asked him what on earth he was playing at. “You live in Farnden, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “My mum works for New Brooms, an’ I thought you wouldn’t mind if I used your toilet.”
“You’re lying, aren’t you, Jack,” Hazel said. “That man was after you. What had you done?”
“Nothing. I done nothing,” he said. “He’s been following me, trying to sell me drugs. I was scared. I am still scared.”
Hazel frowned and looked closely at his face. Was he still lying? He had a real shifty look about him. She knew his father had deserted the family. Mrs. M had given the bare facts to the team before Paula joined, so that they wouldn’t ask tactless questions. A kid his age needs a father, she thought.
“So why aren’t you on the bus on the way home?”
Jack hesitated. He knew this woman was a farmer’s wife, and seemed straight enough. He decided to treat her like his mum, and tell her what he thought she’d like to hear. Then he could ask for a lift home. It would be the answer to his problem.
“You ought to tell your mother about that dealer,” she said. “The police could stop him with no trouble. They’re usually pretty hot about men who loiter round school gates. Why don’t you tell her?”
“I have. She said she’d do something about it, but so far she’s been too busy. Scrubbing other people’s floors.”
Hazel ignored this. For one thing, she knew Paula scrubbed the step at the hall, but this was her own idea, because she liked doing it. But she supposed it would count in Jack’s eyes.
On the way back to Farnden, Jack answered Hazel’s questions in monosyllables and grunts. It was all round the village that the boy was difficult and in trouble at school, and she was curious to know if he had anything to say in his own defence. After all, she had her lovely daughter who was no trouble at all, but expected things to change when the teenage blues hit them all.
“Do you see your father at all?” she said cheerfully.
Jack rounded on her. “Mind your own business!” he said. “I’m sick of people asking about my rotten father. He left Mum in the lurch, and I say good riddance to bad rubbish! We don’t want him back. We can get on all right by ourselves. I help Mum all I can, and the others do, too, except for the little one. I just wish people would leave us alone. Fathers are not that great, anyway…” He trailed off.
“Oh, I dunno,” said Hazel. “Mine certainly wasn’t, but some people are lucky. Look at Mrs. M’s husband, Derek. He’s a lovely man, and his kids can’t speak too highly of him. Have you met him?”
Jack shook his head. “Wouldn’t know him if I saw him,” he said. “But your Mrs. M seems all right. I suppose if you got a nice husband it makes a difference all round.”
Hazel glanced sideways at him. He sounded near to tears, and she was glad they were approaching the village. Paula might not be too pleased if she delivered her son back home looking as if she’d beaten him up.
“Here we are, then,” she said. “Might see you around. Do you go to Youth Club in the village hall? Meets every week, and they do some interesting things. I’ll give your mum the details. It’s tonight. They’re building a soap box and need as many willing hands as possible.”
He scuffed his way down the garden path, and as he turned to go round to the back of the house, he looked back and raised two fingers to her. This gave her a jolt, and she reflected that it was a salutary lesson. It was going to take more than a sympathetic ride home to sort out Jack Jr.’s problems.
FLOSS WAS WALKING HOME FROM THE SHOP, AND SAW HAZEL’S car stop outside the Hickson house. She watched Jack Jr. get out and disappear, and then she crossed the road to have a word with Hazel. The two were good friends, though Floss was younger, and they were both loyal members of the New Brooms team. Hazel had not expected Floss to last long, but she repeatedly said she loved the work and refused to move, in spite of pressure put on her by her parents. But they’d given up now that she was married, and dropped hints about the patter of tiny feet instead.
She greeted Hazel and asked if her John would be at Youth Club tonight, adding that the lads needed a strong leader like John Thornbull to keep them in order.
“Yes, he’ll be there,” Hazel said. “If you’re going, can you remind him to look out for young Jack Hickson? I gave him a lift home, and he showed no interest at all when I told him about building the soap box. I thought he might make a friend or two. He seems such a lonely, mixed-up kid. But sometimes his sort do the opposite of what you expect. He’ll need some encouragement if he does turn up. I’ll tell John myself, of course, but by the time he gets to the village hall, he’ll have forgotten!”
“ANYTHING HAPPEN TODAY?” JOHN SAID TO HAZEL AS THEY WERE having their tea. Lizzie had finished hers, and was tormenting the cat, trying to dress it up in doll’s clothes.
“What d’you mean?” Hazel said. “A lot happened. I got breakfast, took Lizzie to school, went into work at New Brooms, signed on new clients, reported back to Mrs. M, tidied up and did the filing-”
“Okay, okay! Just an idle question.”
“But not an idle day,” Hazel said huffily. “Oh, and yes, there was a small drama, when young Jack Hickson-you know, our new cleaner’s eldest-suddenly appeared in the shop looking hunted, asked to go to the loo, and disappeared into the back room. A minute later, a breathless man came in and asked if I’d seen a boy running past.”
“So what did you say?” said John, his attention caught.
“For some reason, I said no, I hadn’t seen anyone. Then I stood so he couldn’t see into the back room. I more or less had to shove him out, and then lock up. I gave young Jack a lift home. He gave me a cock-and-bull story about missing the bus.”
She got up to rescue the cat, and John said, “Who was the man? Did Jack Jr. talk about him on the way home?”
“Not at first,” Hazel replied. “Not a great talker, our Jack Jr., but when I asked about his father, I certainly hit a raw spot. He was vitriolic about his father and hoped never to see him again. Then he said something really important, if it was true. He told me about a man at the school gates, peddling drugs. Apparently he’s been pestering the lad, maybe because Jack had tried something once. Jack won’t say anything because of getting his mother involved. He’s probably regretting telling me by now.”
“You’d better keep it to yourself, then,” John said. “We don’t want our family having any truck with that world.”
“Hey, since when were you a nimby? And you a parish councillor, too. That Hickson woman has got enough to put up with, without her thirteen-year-old son being in that kind of trouble!”
John backtracked, saying he’d make some discreet enquiries.
“And also,” said Hazel sternly, “I told Jack about the Youth Club and building a soap box, hoping it might give him something to do, somewhere to make friends. But he wasn’t interested, not on the surface, anyway. It is just possible he might turn up tonight, so could you make an effort with him? I’ve got this horrible feeling something bad is going to happen if nobody does nothing to help him.”
JOHN WAS PLEASED TO COUNT FULL ATTENDANCE AT THE YOUTH Club. The soap box idea had galvanised the usually indolent youths, and they were already in a huddle, discussing design and building plans. Apparently their tech teacher at school had got interested and was helping them.
“Right, girls,” Floss was saying, “let’s make sure we get in on this. Can’t have the boys taking all the credit.” As she herded the two groups together, she saw the door open and a face look round. Then the door shut again.
“Jack Hickson,” she said quickly to John, and dashed for the door. Jack was disappearing up the lane, and she yelled, “Jack! Come here a minute! Can you spare a minute?” Then John was following her, and the pair of them caught up with Jack, who looked fixedly at the ground and said nothing.
“Come on, boy,” John said. “We hoped you’d come. Another pair of hands needed, and I’ve heard you’re a handy lad. Come on, let’s go.” John’s man-to-man approach worked, and Floss was relieved to see the pair walk back to the village hall.
“When we packed up,” she said to her husband, Ben, later that evening, “Jack Hickson looked a different chap. Head up, laughing at John’s silly jokes. And he’d had some good suggestions for the vehicle, so John said.”
“Let’s hope it lasts,” said Ben, from behind the evening paper. “These things can be a one day wonder. Especially with kids. Any coffee going? I’ve been waiting ’til you came home to put the kettle on.”