Blue Blood Babies

Blue Blood Babies - Part Three

Chapter Six

We sat in the car, staring down the most familiar road in the world to me, watching him watch my house.  Again, he had gone a little way past, parking discretely across the road so anyone leaving would not have to walk past him, would not see him lurking, spying, in other words.  I couldn’t work out why he was here again.  Did he think I’d be stupid enough to go home, and then come brazenly waltzing down the street again come school time? 

At seven forty-five exactly we saw my dad leave the house, dressed in his suit and toting a briefcase that I knew contained only his lunchbox.  He got into his car without noticing the silver car of Murphy, then drove past where Connor and I were idling.  I ducked down in my seat so that he wouldn’t see me, but I needn’t have bothered.  He saw nothing, possibly not even the road in front of him.  His face was grey, his forehead creased with worry lines, dark circles gouged under his eyes.  He was a wreck.  And it was my fault.  I felt a pang of guilt as I realised the stress I was putting my family under. 

I wanted to wave, to give him some sign that I was here, and I was fine.  But I couldn’t.  Not until we worked this out. 

At half-eight, my mum and Anna left the house.  Anna was dressed in her school uniform, backpack slung over her shoulders, but my mum, who should have been in a neat suit or some hideous twin-set ensemble, was wearing pyjamas trousers, an old jumper of my dad’s and her slippers.  Her hair was untidy, and her face looked just as haggard as Dad’s, maybe even more so.  Rather than dark circles, her eyes were rimmed with red, like she’d been crying.  I slunk down in my seat again as they passed, not because I thought they might see me, but because I was too ashamed and guilt-ridden to look at Mum’s face anymore. 

Hiding down there, I covered my face with my hands.  This was such a mess. 

“What’s he doing?” Connor exclaimed, drawing me from my misery.

“What?” I asked from my low position. 

Connor ignored me, staring straight ahead.  Intrigued, I shuffled up until I could peer over the dashboard. 

“Hey!  Hey that’s my house, dammit!” I shouted. 

As soon as my mum had disappeared around the corner, Murphy had all but jumped out of the car and strode across the road, up the steps to my front door.  With one, wary glance around him, he had fumbled for a second or so with the door handle, then let himself inside. 

“No way!” I muttered, reaching for the door handle.

“What are you doing?”  Connor clamped a hand down on my shoulder, holding me in my seat. 

“He’s breaking into my house!” I exclaimed, struggling against his grip.  He was strong, though, I couldn’t shake him off.

“Alfie, you can’t go out there,” he told me, his voice firm.

“The hell I can’t,” I argued.  He might be the boss of his little band of blue babies, but he wasn’t in charge of me.

“You’d be walking right into his hands,” he said.  “Think about it.  The house is empty, there’re no witnesses.  He’d just drag you into his car, and that’s it, you’d never be heard of again.”

I was still fighting against Connor’s hold on me, but as the red mist cleared, I realised that he was right.

“Okay.  Okay!” I repeated, a little louder, wrenching my shoulder.  He released me, then patted my arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I know it’s crap, but we’ve got to be smart.”

“Should we call the police?” I wondered.