In Cold Blood: A Brother’s Sworn Vengeance. Julie Shaw

usually cut through there to meet Carol and walk to school. It was something she’d done unthinkingly for almost all of her life. Years and years, now – up the road, into the snicket, out into the football field, and then on up the road to St Michael’s. But now everything was different. Now, when she passed Mucky Melvin’s, she held her breath. Fixed her eyes straight ahead and forced herself not to look – otherwise it felt like she might be struck down dead. It was like that game – at least, that’s how she decided she’d have to think about it – that game where you dare not step on cracks in the pavement. You could die if you did that, as well.

      Only when she’d hurried far enough up the street, did she start to properly breathe again. She then ran through the snicket fast enough to feel her breath coming in gasps, slowing only as she made the football field and stopped to wait for Carol, the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears.

      Carol was Josie’s best mate in the world. They had gone to St Michael’s together since they were five, and had always stuck up for each other. Carol, who was plump and worldly-wise about most things, had dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin. A lot of the other kids called her ‘Paki’, but that wasn’t true. Her dad had left when she was a baby, but he wasn’t a Paki. He was an Egyptian and he was loaded, and some day he was going to come back again and give Carol and her mum loads of jewels and stuff from the pyramids. Then they’d be sorry, all them that called her nasty names.

      Carol was also a fighter, just like she was, and if anyone ever called her a ginger nut, Carol would be right by her side helping dole out the sort of punishment that ensured it never happened again.

      She was coming into view now and Josie waved. ‘Hurry up,’ she called, causing Carol to break into a run. ‘Or we’re going to be late again!’

      ‘Me mum’s hopeless, Titch,’ Caz said as she fell into step alongside her. ‘Didn’t get me up in time. Again.’

      It was the same every day, almost, and Josie found herself reflecting on why it was that she didn’t need anyone to get her up just now. She’d only have to stir, and the pictures would flood into her brain, making her sweat and want to cry and cry and cry. She pushed the thoughts away, preferring to let Carol chatter on. About their school project, which was on the Vikings. About Jennifer Armitage, who had nits. About Mickey, a 12-year-old boy in their school who was totally in love with Carol. Or so she said.

      ‘I swear, Titch – you should have seen how he looked at me when I was walking home yesterday. He wants to be my boyfriend, I just know it.’

      Josie didn’t know anything much about boyfriends, and didn’t want to. Yes, she knew about boys – and about Vinnie and his friends, more than she perhaps ought to. But boyfriends … she shuddered. All that now felt like a very frightening place.

      But Carol seemed older and not at all frightened. Should she tell her? Dare she?

      ‘Don’t you think?’ Carol was saying, stopping for a moment on the grass.

      Josie hauled her thoughts back to order. ‘Do you want me to ask him for you?’

      ‘Would you?’ Carol’s eyes widened. ‘Would you really? Don’t let on that I know though, will you?’

      They continued walking, arm in arm. The field had a low, greyish mist still hanging over it. Josie liked the mist. And the space. And the sense that you could run through it. That you could run and run and maybe even disappear into it. ‘Course I won’t,’ she said. ‘I’ll say I’m just wondering, that’s all.’

      ‘Ta,’ Carol said. ‘Today, then? And, you know – if you fancy someone, just let me know, yeah? And I’ll ask them for you, okay?’

      Josie couldn’t think of anything she’d like less. ‘You’ll be waiting a long time then, Caz,’ she said. ‘Boys are shit bags.’

      Carol giggled and squeezed Josie’s arm tighter. ‘My mum said I’m a bit more forward than you,’ she told her. ‘When you catch up, you’ll fancy boys. You’ll see.’

      Josie thought this was a stupid thing to say. They were both 11 now – she’d just had her birthday. How on earth could she ‘catch up’ – even if she wanted to? She looked at her friend and wondered if the Devil really could hear everything she said and thought. It must be true because the nuns who taught them sometimes had even said so. She and Carol were blood sisters so they shouldn’t have secrets. They’d made cuts on each other’s wrists and rubbed them together, and that meant they were bound together for life. And now it was all going to be ruined, because Josie had a bad secret that she couldn’t share.

      Josie suddenly wished with all her heart that Vinnie was home. She thought of his letter and how badly she wanted to write back to him, but how scared she felt about actually doing so. He could read her like a book – he’d told her that once. What did that mean exactly? She wasn’t sure, but she was frightened. That whatever she did or didn’t say, somehow he’d just know. Her head was starting to hurt now. The pictures were beginning to flood her brain again. She decided not to think for a while, just go to school and get the day over with. Just like she had every day since.

      Melvin stood in his window for some minutes after Titch had passed by, smiling to himself as he finally lowered the grimy makeshift curtain. It was something to get out of bed for, was the sight of her hurrying along the road, and he’d been up for a sneaky peek every school morning since.

      Satisfied, he crossed the room again, and got back into bed, already sliding his hand down inside his filthy pyjama bottoms.

Chapter 5

      Dear Vinnie

      Nice to hear from you, son. I hope you’re keeping well. Everybody keeps asking about you and I keep telling them how well you’re doing. You need to knock the stealing off, Vin, or they’ll bloody keep you there for ever. Saggy Sally came round the other day, she said you and your friends are getting into trouble all the time, fighting and that. If you want to be home after Christmas, love, you’ll have to settle down. Your dad said hello. Miserable prat wouldn’t give me any money to send you though. I’ve just sent enough for some baccy and papers. I will send you some more on Monday when I get my family allowance. I’m not talking to our Lyndsey yet, but the kids have been down so I asked our Robbie if he could bring me a poster for you. Our Josie is writing to you as well but she said she will post hers herself. Silly get said that she doesn’t want me nosing at her letter. Well, for being clever, she will have to buy her own stamp now, won’t she? I’m sorting something out with Sally to get down for a visit but she said it might not be for another week or two. She said you have to start being good first. So the way you’re going, I might never bleeding get to see you. Hope you like the photos I’ve sent. All my mates say that I look like a film star on that one of me; I think they mean Marilyn Monroe, with my blonde hair. Ha-ha, just joking. Right Vinnie, I have to go now, but I’ll write again next week.

      All my love, Mam X

      Dear Vinnie

      Thank you for your letter. Very funny about my photo by the way. Carol said to say hello. (I think she fancies you, so tell your new mates that. An 11-year-old, ha-ha.) I told Brendan you were boxing now and he said he is weightlifting, so he will be able to beat you up when you get home. I told him he would have to take on both of us. I always stay out of trouble unless I am with you. I hate it when you’re not here, Vinnie. I have no one to talk to. Can I ask you something? Can the Devil really hear everything I say? One of my mates told me that he could, even if I say it quietly. I was going to ask Sister Josephine at school but I thought she might tell me off for mentioning the Devil. I might ask Carol, she’ll tell me truth, she always does cos of us being blood sisters. It’s not like having my real brother there though, Vin, I wish you were home. Our Robbie is going to nick one of Robbo’s David Bowie pictures so I will send it when I get some money out of my dad’s pockets for another stamp. I have to go now; Carol is calling for me to walk to the post office, so I can send you this letter.

      Lots