The Disappearances (18 page)

‘Trouble is,’ Thomas continued, ‘people don’t show each other respect very much, do they? People don’t know what respect is. They’ve lost their way, Devil. They focus all their attention on things that don’t matter, and none of their attention on things that do. Like respect. Like manners. They’re too busy taking drugs, accumulating things. They’ve forgotten what life is about, Devil. Don’t you agree?’

‘I guess,’ Devil said, noncommittally.

‘You guess, huh?’ Thomas replied thoughtfully. ‘You think your mother has her priorities right? You think she had her priorities right when your little sister fell out of that window?’

Devil stiffened.

‘Thing is, Devil, it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t to blame. It’s society’s fault. It should have helped her instead of leaving her to fend for herself, broke, broken. She’s not the first person to turn to alcohol, to drugs, to gambling, to whatever there is available. But she is part of the problem, Devil. People need leadership and no one’s leading them.’

Devil didn’t say anything. He hated his mother, hated her weakness, the way she crumpled when his father left, the way she cried all the time, saying that she used to be a someone, that he’d taken that away from her, when he hadn’t taken anything because she wasn’t no one when he married her. Or didn’t marry her. Whatever. Point was, Leona was her responsibility. Not him, he could look after himself. But Leona was little. She needed her mum. And her mum let her down. Her mum was a fucking laughing stock. A mess.

But she was still his mum. It was one thing hating her; it was another thing hearing this guy Thomas slag her off.

‘Whatever,’ he said.

‘Whatever? You can do better than that,’ Thomas said. He moved closer, put his hand on Devil’s arm. ‘You know what I’m talking about because you sell those lowlifes drugs,’ he whispered. ‘You see it all around you. The scum. The sheep. You know that they’re worthless. You know that. The other gangs. Your own gang. They’re not winners, are they, Devil? They’re losers. All of them.’

Devil didn’t move an inch. ‘You knew my dad?’ he asked.

‘Know your dad,’ Thomas said. ‘I know him well. And he wants to help you. Wants me to help you. See, we’ve got a plan, Devil. A plan to change things. To change them for good. What I want to know is whether you want to help us. Whether you want to change things. Clear the slates. Get rid of the dross. Start again.’

Devil looked at him strangely. ‘I dunno what you’re talking about,’ he said.

Thomas smiled. ‘Yes you do. You know the Bible, Devil. I bet you know it off by heart.’ Devil raised an eyebrow and Thomas laughed. ‘Tell me about Genesis chapter 6.’

Devil said nothing.

Thomas’s eyes hardened. ‘Tell me,’ he said.

Devil looked at him warily. ‘Noah’s ark?’ he asked.

‘Noah’s ark,’ Thomas smiled again. ‘A new beginning. Tell me. Tell me the story.’

Devil shifted uncertainly in his seat. ‘You want me to tell you the story of Noah’s ark?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Devil. I’m waiting. And I don’t like to wait.’

Devil shook his head. He wasn’t a performing monkey.

The big guy on his right moved closer. ‘Tell him the story,’ he said, his voice low and threatening. Devil met his eyes; turned back to Thomas. Shit. He was going to have to do it. Shit.

Reluctantly he began to recite, his voice low, almost a whisper. Like he used to recite the Bible for his father. Wanting to please him. Wanting to see a proud smile on his face, not wanting to anger him. ‘And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘Louder,’ Thomas instructed him, closing his eyes.

Devil sighed inwardly. ‘That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.’

‘And?’ Thomas asked. ‘Then what?’

‘And the Lord said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years.’

Devil stopped, and Thomas’s eyes opened again. ‘More,’ he said. ‘Keep going.’

Devil’s eyes narrowed. ‘There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the LORD that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.’

‘Grieved him at his heart,’ Thomas nodded appreciatively. ‘That’s about right. Now come on. You’re just getting to the best bit.’

Devil rolled his eyes. ‘And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them. But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.’

Thomas’s eyes opened and he smiled, broadly. ‘There we go,’ he said. ‘He destroyed all the wicked men and he saved Noah. Because Noah walked with him, because Noah wasn’t like the rest of them. See, Devil? Do you see now?’

Devil shook his head. ‘See what?’ he asked.

Thomas laughed. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘It’s time we got back.’

He opened the door. ‘See what?’ Devil asked again.

Thomas stopped, turned, his face still creased into a grin. ‘You’ll find out soon enough. You going to help me, Devil? You going to help your dad make things better?’

‘Why should I?’ The words came out before Devil could check himself, but Thomas didn’t look angry.

‘Because,’ he said, ‘you know you want to.’

‘I don’t know nothing like that,’ Devil retorted, emboldened by the fact that no one had laid a finger on him. Maybe these big guys weren’t so tough after all. Maybe this Thomas was all talk and nothing else.

‘Oh yes you do,’ Thomas said. His voice was soft suddenly, thoughtful. ‘You think that running some shitty little gang in a shitty little estate is a worthwhile thing to be doing? You think that you’re a someone because you can intimidate ten-year-old boys into running errands for you? You’re a no one, Devil. You carry on like this and you’ll be in prison within the year. A failure. A loser. You work for me, and you’ll be a someone. You’ll be doing something important. Something your father believes in. Something he’s been working on for a very long time. So you tell me, Devil. Do you want to help me, or not?’

‘You work for my father?’ Devil asked, his eyes widening slightly.

‘I don’t work for anyone, Devil,’ Thomas said. ‘Just answer the question.’ There was steel in his voice, an implied threat. Devil stared at him. He was angry. He’d been insulted. But even though he’d never admit it, he also knew Thomas was right. The gang was shit. Everything was shit. Ever since the boy had killed himself, Devil hadn’t been able to shake a feeling of emptiness, of pointlessness, of anger, at the boy, at himself for letting it happen, for not being two steps ahead. He’d told himself he didn’t care; had told himself it was a neat ending to a problem, that he couldn’t have orchestrated things better if he’d tried. But he hadn’t really believed it. And now … Now Thomas was making sense. It wasn’t his fault; none of it was his fault. It was society’s fault. It was all the losers, getting in the way.

Now he had an opportunity. His dad wanted his help. His dad was going to save him.

‘I don’t work for anyone neither,’ Devil said, then. ‘But I’ll work with you. If that’s what you’re asking.’

Thomas grinned, the smile taking over his face, spreading right across from ear to ear. ‘I knew you would,’ he said, evidently pleased with himself. ‘Welcome to the team, Devil.’ He handed him a pin, a tie pin, with the letter ‘I’ on it.

‘What’s this?’ he asked.

‘Put it on,’ Thomas said. ‘It means you’re part of something. Something special. Something big. See, I have great hopes for you, Devil. I think you’re going to be something special. I think you’ve got your father’s talents. And people need that right now.’

‘So what do you want me to do?’ Devil asked uncertainly, pinning it to his T-shirt.

‘Nothing,’ Thomas said, getting out of the car and moving back to the front. ‘For now. But I’ll be in touch. I’ll let you know.’

Raffy’s head was hurting. He was lying on some kind of daybed with sheer curtains all around him. He knew that Benjamin was in the room, but his figure was hazy through the voile. He cleared his throat. Moments later, the curtains drew back and Benjamin’s face appeared.

‘Feeling better?’ he asked.

Raffy nodded sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

He’d been on the bed for an hour or so. Initially he hadn’t wanted to lie down; he’d been too desperate to apologise, to explain himself to Benjamin, to make Benjamin see. But Benjamin had refused to listen. Instead he had insisted that Raffy lie down, gather his thoughts, reflect, and, he added with a little smile, let the alcohol work its way through his system.

So Raffy had done what he was told, had sulked, brooded, huffed, puffed and fuelled his righteous indignation with images of Neil and Evie, of Lucas kissing Evie, of Evie’s thunderous face staring at him angrily.

And then, slowly, those images had rescinded. Bit by bit his breathing had slowed down; bit by bit his anger had abated, and as it did so his embarrassment increased.

‘Sorry?’ Benjamin asked. ‘For what, Raffy?’

‘For behaving like an idiot,’ Raffy said, feeling himself redden. Benjamin was sitting at the foot of the bed, his kindly eyes looking at him seriously. ‘For punching Neil. For …’

He trailed off. There was too much he was sorry for. Too much to put into words.

‘Neil is a fine teacher,’ Benjamin said then, his voice quiet, gentle. ‘I don’t believe that his teachings have ever, in the past, led to such an outburst.’

‘No,’ Raffy said. ‘No, I can’t imagine they would.’

‘And yet you were so incensed by what he said? By what he did?’ Benjamin asked curiously.

Raffy shook his head. Then he sat forward. ‘It’s not Neil,’ he said with a sigh. ‘It’s me. I … I get scared whenever anyone gets close to Evie. I can’t help it. I see red.’

‘You are afraid you’ll lose her? That she’ll see through you?’

Raffy’s eyes widened. Benjamin laughed. ‘We all worry about that to a degree,’ he said. ‘I used to worry about people seeing through me all the time.’

‘Really?’ Raffy asked disbelievingly. ‘You?’

Benjamin nodded. ‘Everyone is fallible. We all have faults.’

Raffy digested this. Then he took a deep breath. ‘The thing is,’ he said. ‘The thing is I can’t lose her. If I lost her, I’d be nothing. I’d want to die. And when I see her laughing, smiling, with someone else, it makes me …’

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

‘Want to kill them?’ Benjamin asked gently.

Raffy met his eye and nodded guiltily.

‘And do you think this behaviour makes her love you more?’ Benjamin asked.

Raffy frowned. ‘No, I mean …’ He cleared his throat. ‘She doesn’t like it. I know she doesn’t. But she doesn’t see … She doesn’t realise. She—’

‘Doesn’t see the world as you do? Full of threats? Full of challengers?’

Raffy nodded gratefully. Benjamin got it. He understood.

Benjamin smiled sadly. ‘Raffy,’ he said. ‘Do you know why the Brother was able to keep you so restricted in the City? Do you know why he was able to do as he pleased, to take away your basic freedoms, to rule the City according to his own rules, unquestioned, unchallenged?’

Raffy nodded. ‘Because of the System.’

‘No,’ Benjamin said gently. ‘The System was part of it, but the real reason was fear. People feared the alternative. The Horrors were driven by fear, too. Fear of others. Fear and hatred and mistrust. We are all susceptible to it. We need it: without fear we would walk into dangerous situations. Without fear, the human race would not survive. But unfettered, unchallenged, fear can be a very destructive force. And that is the kind of fear tormenting you, Raffy. Neil is no threat to you. No one here is a threat to you except yourself. Act towards Evie the way the Brother acted in the City and don’t you think that she will be forced to flee? Wouldn’t you do the same thing?’

Raffy stared at him. Evie had said almost the same thing. He got an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

‘I’ve been really stupid,’ he said quietly.

Benjamin smiled. ‘You’ve been passionate, and you’ve been misguided. Not stupid.’

Raffy considered this.

‘I just … I don’t want to lose her, Benjamin. Now that we’re free, there’s nothing holding her to me any more.’

‘Yes there is,’ Benjamin said, gently. ‘If you can get rid of the doubts and fear, you’ll see that there’s everything holding her to you. Neil is not a threat to you. But you are. Your jealousy is.’

Raffy breathed out. He knew it was true. ‘I’m going to really try,’ he said. ‘Thank you Benjamin.’

‘Don’t thank me,’ Benjamin said with a warm smile. ‘We all make mistakes. Trust me.’

Raffy pulled himself up. ‘I’d better go and apologise to Neil.’

‘Probably a good idea,’ Benjamin winked. ‘Go easy, Raffy. Everything will be okay.’

The estate was quiet. A few of Devil’s crew were hanging out, sitting on the high wall that overlooked the walkways, smoking, drinking, using the wall on the other side for target practice with their empty cans. Business was slow, but not through lack of demand. It was like he couldn’t be bothered any more. Like none of it mattered so much. And his apathy was infectious; without him setting the pace, making demands, his crew had slipped into a lethargic state that no one, including Devil, could be bothered to rouse themselves out of. Business was booming without even trying hard; the money was rolling in and there hadn’t been any trouble. The Green Lanes Massive weren’t interfering in their business any more; no one was. Devil didn’t think about it too much, but if and when he did, the thought sometimes occurred to him that maybe it was a bit strange, maybe. But then again, maybe they had better things to do.

Truth was, it didn’t matter. Because Devil def-initely had better things to do. He had his eyes on a bigger game, he was moving into a different world. A world he liked. A world of smart cars and people who had real power, real respect, not just stupid gangs with their constant fighting. Like children. That’s what he’d realised. All of this. It was no different from kids fighting in the playground, only now it was with knives and guns.