Three Little Boys

Chapter 4

I arrive home at nearly 7 p.m. "Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why didn't you call?" All of these are questions I don't get upon my return. I find Mum's tired again and has gone to bed after she'd finished work. Although, I feel that the term 'work' should be applied loosely. On top of her cleaning jobs, people also pay her to iron their stuff. She irons mine and David's clothes daily. Doing something for hours on end every evening that you already do can hardly be considered a 'job.'

"I'm going out," says David, before I've even hung my coat up. "Mum says your dinner's in the oven – just re-heat it and it'll be fine."

"I don't want dinner," I say, still stuffed from the two Mars bars and Curly Wurly I had while I was in town.

"Oh, right," David says and then heads towards our football by the front door until I block his path along the hallway. He frowns at me and mutters, "Excuse me, can I get by, please?"

"David?" I say. "Dave? Um, I don't think you should go out now."

"What, why?"

"Well, er, it's gone seven and it'll be dark soon. Mum wouldn't like it."

"I'm only going out the front with Terry and Wayne – just for a kick-about – you can see me from the front room. Can you move, please?"

I don't move. Instead, I say, "It's just... I thought we could play secret agents, or something?"

"I don't know," he wavers. "We played that yesterday. Secret agents is boring. Why can't we play Star Wars?"

"Because you never play by the rules: I've told you before, you can't save Alderaan – it gets destroyed and that's that. Plus Ewoks are not just there to be used as human shields and the Imperial Senate would not build a homosexual protocol droid to begin with. Now, come on, let's play secret agents – I'll let you use the big green water pistol again. What d'you reckon?"

Doug Holster is going solo. Over the years he has witnessed many agents who were unable to stand the heat and had to get out of the frying pan, but he had always thought that his own brother would be different. Doug had hoped that he would be able to mould the youngster into almost as effective killing machine as himself. It appeared that he was wrong. If MI6 wanted part time saviours of the world, they would put 'hours to suit all' on the job application form.

No matter. 'Baby Holster' may only be interested in on-pitch glory, but Big Holster had his sights set on a goal of his own – and she definitely wasn't six feet tall, painted white and made out of wood.

I didn't notice this yesterday, but many of my year frequent the front playground before registration. I only realise this now because Allison is there. She has been waiting for my arrival and instantly comes to greet me, even casting aside those inbred mutants she hangs around with. I could not ask for a better and more inspiring start to the day. The only thing that could make it even more perfect would be to take her by the hand and go on a leisurely stroll through a wide open meadow for the rest of the morning.

Instead, she hurries back to her so-called friends, plus that miniature Mike who's waiting for her. Once with them she has to look like she's one of the crowd and starts tittering like she means it. No matter, I'm confident I will speak to her soon enough. I know she will not hang around with people like that forever. As I pass by I catch a snippet of their conversation. It is banal to say the least. They are still talking about characters from children's television programmes.

Once in my form room I open my desk. These are not my folders. After the sniggering from the boys loitering at the back of the class has died down, I realise it's the old, 'Play-the-trick-on-the-fat-girl' routine again. I locate my desk on the other side of the room, next to the larger-than-necessary Nadine.