Authors: Cathy MacPhail
Mr Sampson. He could help Klaus. He would know what to do. Mr Sampson was a good man. Col almost blurted it out to Klaus, but held his tongue. Time enough when they were home again. No point building up Klaus’s hopes.
But Mr Sampson could help Klaus get a passport. He could help him get home. And he wouldn’t have to go to prison. Maybe, Col thought, happy at the prospect, Klaus had been right. He was going to help him to get home after all.
Another good deed?
Col grinned to himself – any more of those and he’d
begin to believe he really was a superhero.
‘Why do you smile?’ Klaus asked him, smiling himself.
‘Nothing,’ Col said. ‘I’m just happy.’
And he was. He felt good about himself, and about the world. ‘I will help you get home, Klaus. You see if I don’t. That’s a promise.’
‘I believe you,’ Klaus said, as if it had been just what he expected of him. Suddenly, another thought occurred to Col. ‘You come in and join us, Klaus. The Sampsons wouldn’t mind. They’re dead nice.’
Klaus looked into the warm, bustling hotel, into the warm glow of the foyer. He shook his head. ‘No, Col. This is your night. And anyway, if I go in …’ He shook his head again. ‘Too many questions I can’t answer.’
No amount of coaxing would convince him otherwise.
‘Have you got something to eat? I could get you a carryout. There’s bags of food in there.’
Klaus laughed. ‘You worry about me too much. I am fine. Go. Enjoy yourself. I have to go back.’
Col thought of him on a lonely dark road, waiting, hoping for someone to give him a lift. It was a sad, miserable picture. Yet, at least he was safe from Mungo.
Mungo wouldn’t find him tonight.
Col watched him go. He felt really moved that Klaus had come all this way just for him.
‘Who were you speaking to?’ Mrs Sampson touched his shoulder.
Col turned quickly. His face grew red. He knew he must look guilty. ‘No one,’ he said.
She followed his quick, furtive glance almost as if she could see Klaus. But she couldn’t possibly, Col was sure of it. Klaus had already disappeared into the night, swallowed up by the crowds of London.
Col could have told her the whole story then, but he didn’t. Tonight, he would forget about Klaus. Forget about everything. Just enjoy himself. Tonight was his night.
But when they were back home, then he would do everything he could to help Klaus.
It was pouring with rain when they landed at Glasgow airport. But nothing could dampen their high spirits – well, almost nothing.
As Mr Sampson picked up his car at the airport car park all they could talk about was their ‘London Adventure’, as Dominic called it. Sitting into the back seat with the boys even Miserella was laughing.
‘You’ll have to lose weight, Miserella,’ Dominic shouted as she shoved him over with her backside. ‘This is like sharing the back of the car with an elephant.’
Col let out a yell. ‘That’s what she reminds me of. I’ve been trying to figure it out for ages. I mean, the resemblance is amazing.’
For that he was elbowed hard in the ribs. But her smile remained. Nothing could wipe that smile off her face after last night. She not only had the autographs of
every member of her favourite boy band, but she’d actually had her photograph taken with them, too. No, nothing could wipe that smile off her face.
Well, almost nothing.
‘You know, Columba McCann, I think I could even get to like you … eventually … maybe in three or four hundred years time.’
At that, Col pretended to faint in the back seat while Dominic started to choke as if he was about to be sick.
‘Suicide time!’ he shouted, and started a series of jumps and kicks that made everybody yell and Ella start to slap and shake him back.
‘Enough!’ Mr Sampson shouted. ‘I’m trying to drive here.’
But he was still smiling, too. He flicked a glance in the mirror at Col. ‘I’ll take this lot home, Col. Dump our luggage and then take you home. All right with you?’
‘I’ll get a taxi, Mr Sampson. I’ve got the money.’
Mrs Sampson looked shocked. ‘Over my dead body. Get a taxi indeed!’ She tutted. ‘As if I’d allow that. In this weather. Your mother would kill me.’
It occurred to him again that Mrs Sampson was a fine woman. Thoughtful, caring, almost as good a woman as
his own mother. She was loyal. Here with the Sampsons he could see a lot of loyalty. A different kind of loyalty to that of his family, but it was there just the same.
They turned into the tree-lined avenue with the windscreen wipers still struggling to clear a view of the road ahead. Mrs Sampson promised them all soup and sandwiches as soon as they went in. It was bucketing down as they hauled the cases out of the boot and struggled with them to the front door. Mr Sampson turned as he opened it. ‘Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but all I can say is there really is no place like home.’
Mrs Sampson stepped inside.
And screamed.
It seemed an age, as if time stopped while they took in what had happened. As they each stepped into the house.
The hall had been trashed. Graffiti was spray-painted over the walls, the furniture was scratched and daubed, the paintings were ripped. The antique unit was almost completely ruined with paint and deep gashes all over it.
And it was empty. All the china. All the silver. All the crystal. Gone.
Mrs Sampson, almost on the verge of hysteria, ran into the living room and screamed again. Carpets destroyed, furniture ruined. Everything that could be carried away easily had been taken.
‘Have they done this to the whole house?’ Ella sobbed.
Dominic didn’t wait for an answer. He was off upstairs to check out his own room.
‘But I don’t understand,’ Mrs Sampson cried. ‘Why didn’t the neighbours hear anything?’
‘Because nothing they did made any noise,’ Col said. ‘Spray paint, slashing furniture, doesn’t make a lot of noise.’
Ella’s miserable face had returned, with a vengeance. ‘You seem to know an awful lot about it.’
Col swallowed, feeling guilty. And something much worse, something he could hardly contemplate. He knew all this, yes, because Mungo had told him. One night when he had drunk too much and boasted of how easy it was to break into people’s houses, how much fun it was to trash their homes, what a challenge it was to do it so quietly that not a soul would hear.
And Col had laughed. Not understanding that real people were involved, people like the Sampsons. People
who could be hurt by such destruction of their precious things.
Ella suddenly screamed at him. ‘How do you know so much!’
Mrs Sampson was still crying as she pulled her closer. ‘It’s not Col’s fault, Ella.’
All the life seemed to have gone out of Mrs Sampson. She sank into a slashed chair and began to sob quietly.
Col felt like crying too. He blurted out, ‘I’ll get my brother to find out who did this. Mungo knows things. He’ll find out.’
Ella laughed through her tears. ‘Who are you trying to kid? Your brother did this. He knew we’d be away. The house would be empty. And you probably helped him. Was that why you decided to come to London? To get us out of the way? I hate you! I hate your whole family.’
Col ran at Mrs Sampson. ‘Honest, Mrs Sampson, Mungo wouldn’t do this. Not to you. Never. And I would never do a terrible thing like that. Never. But I will find out who did it. I promise.’
He was babbling, trying to understand what was happening.
And then Dominic came hurtling down the stairs
screaming. ‘My PlayStation, Dad. They took my PlayStation.’
The PlayStation Dominic had taken so much pride in, had worked so hard for. Gone.
Ella ran at Col, almost pushing him off his feet. ‘Don’t you dare try to look as if this is hurting you!’ she screamed at him. ‘You don’t care about us.’
Her mother pulled her back gently. She sniffed, stopped crying and stood straight. ‘When it all comes down to it, it’s only material things. Nobody’s been hurt. We can replace material things.’
She aimed these final words at Dominic who was being comforted by his father.
Col knew then that no matter what they found out they would never blame
him
. If, because of him, their house had been broken into and trashed, they would never regret it. Because it was also because of him they still had Dominic. But knowing this didn’t make him feel any better. He ached with the pain of it. As if someone had pushed a fist hard into his belly and twisted it.
In the end, he did get a taxi home. Not because Mr Sampson didn’t want to take him. But because the police had arrived with a forensic team, and were asking questions about what was missing, about the professional
way the house’s alarm system had been disarmed, taking fingerprints with no great hope of finding any. ‘A professional job’ they called it.
One of the policemen took one look at Col, and that look said everything. A McCann and a burgled house, they went together like ham and eggs.
Any other time, Col would have glared at him, challenged that look. Today, he couldn’t even meet his eye. He sat silently in a corner, trying to make himself invisible. Finally, he called a taxi, without telling the Sampsons until it arrived outside their door. They let him leave with only a mild protest. And as he was driven away he turned in the back seat and watched the house disappear into the grey, pouring rain.
‘I’ll probably never go back there,’ he thought. ‘I’ll never be invited again. The Sampsons will never actually blame me, but they’ll want to keep their distance.’
And how could he blame them for that?
He realised something else, too, He could never ask Mr Sampson to help Klaus now.
Mungo was sitting by the fire reading his paper when Col went in. As soon as he saw his younger brother he leapt to his feet, beaming. ‘Hey, bro, missed you, pal.’
He couldn’t be guilty of anything, Col reassured himself, not smiling like that, not looking so pleased to see him back. Relief flooded over him and he dropped his case and ran to him.
Mungo ruffled his hair and punched him on the chin. ‘How’s the hero? Got a medal?’
‘Got a plaque. It’s in my case.’
Mungo began heading for the kitchen. ‘Mam’s still working.’ Col knew that already. ‘But she made up sandwiches for us. Ready for some?’
‘Am I ever?’ Col followed Mungo. Good old Mam, he thought. She probably thought he’d be starved down in London.
Mungo made tea and small talk while Col got stuck into the sandwiches – cheese and tomato, Col’s favourite. Col waited till Mungo was seated across from him at the table, hugging a mug of tea before he broached the subject of the Sampsons.
‘Something terrible happened …’ he began, dreading actually saying the words.
‘What? Tell me?’ Mungo looked genuinely concerned, puzzled.
It couldn’t have been anything to do with Mungo, Col told himself again. He was sure of it now.
‘The Sampsons’ house, it was broken into, trashed, while we were away.’
Mungo chewed on a sandwich, took a sip of tea before he spoke. ‘Cops got any idea who dunnit?’
Col watched him carefully. He could feel beads of cold sweat on his brow. ‘I thought you might be able to help.’
Mungo tensed. ‘Me?’
Col tumbled on nervously. ‘You know people. You hear things. Whoever it was made an awful mess. It was just awful and the furniture was ruined, totally.’
Mungo looked unconcerned. ‘Well, they’ve got plenty o’ cash. Can afford to buy more, eh?’
He sounded callous. Col had heard him like that many times before. And before, Col would probably have laughed. But this was different. This was the Sampsons.
‘They’ve got a really lovely place, Mungo.’
Mungo shrugged. ‘Ach, they can afford to replace everything. Buy your wee pal a new PlayStation. A better one.’ He laughed. ‘Who cares about them anyway, Col? You’re never goin’ to see them again.’
Col felt his blood go cold. A shiver was running very slowly all the way down his spine. He stared at his brother. ‘How did you know they took Dominic’s PlayStation, Mungo?’
Mungo’s neck went red. He swallowed. Col knew, then, knew beyond a doubt that it had been his brother and his mates who had broken into the Sampsons’.
‘That was why you changed your mind about me going? I should have known.’
He remembered now, Mungo staring hard at Mrs Sampson and her gold. It had been envy he had seen in Mungo’s gaze, nothing more. Col felt tears sting his eyes. ‘I didn’t want it to be you, Mungo.’ His voice was cracking. ‘I told them it couldn’t have been you.’
Mungo slammed the table with his fist. ‘You
mentioned me! You put it into somebody’s napper that it
could
have been me?’
Col shouted back, just as angrily. ‘I didn’t have to say a word. You were the first one they suspected. I stuck up for you. I believed in you.’
‘Oh, stop blubberin’! You’re beginning to sound like them.’
‘How could you do that? How could you steal from them? Ruin all their stuff? They’re my friends, Mungo.’
‘’Cause it’s my job!’ He said it as if he was a heart surgeon, or an engineer. As if his ‘job’ was important, and saved lives rather than wrecked them. ‘It’s never bothered you before.’
No indeed. It hadn’t. Col remembered the CD centre that Mungo had given him. Had another boy, just like Dominic, broken his heart when that was stolen?
It was true. Col had never cared before. But he cared now.
Mungo stood up, towering above him. Col had never seen him look so arrogant. ‘You better no’ tell on me.’
Col stood up, too, so quickly his chair crashed to the floor. ‘How can I tell on ye, you’re my brother?’
He wanted to be away from Mungo, out of this house. ‘I hate you for doin’ this, Mungo. Do you hear
me? I hate you!’
He left the house and headed for the hills, for the loch. It was where he’d always gone when he needed to think, needed to be alone. But he didn’t want to be alone now. He needed someone to talk to, someone to listen. Someone who, like him, had no one else to confide in. Klaus.
It was as if Klaus had been waiting for him, crouched by the bank, watching the swans gliding gracefully on the water. The heavy rain had become a drizzle and made the loch shimmer.