Black Gloves

Chapter 3

Present day, cell.

 I was lying on the floor, eyes closed, with my hands folded on top of my chest when I heard my cell door buzz for the third time that day. Faintly irritated, I muttered “Can’t you find somebody else to gawp at?”

Measured footsteps, short strides. I guessed it was Tom. The faint cough that followed confirmed it was indeed Tom Fraser.

“Where’s the horse?”

“Pardon?”

“The horse.” He repeated. “You see, when a horse is charging at you, instead of running away, you should lie on the floor. Have you never heard of that?”

I opened an eye disdainfully. “What makes you think a charging animal would suddenly stop charging if you hit the deck?”

“Well I dunno, maybe because it doesn’t see you as a threat anymore.”

“Bollocks.” I closed my eyes again. “And anyway, if it’s charging at you in the first place, you’ve probably angered it in some way. Lying down in front of it will just make its job easier.”

We were silent for a moment.

“What are you doing here, Tom? Surely that ghastly road-kill you strange things call dinner isn’t due yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Good. I hope that moment never comes.”

“You’ve been granted bail.”

My eyes flew open. As Fitzhugh put it, due to the ‘severity of my crime’, I didn’t think the Magistrates would dare grant me bail. I expected to wait in jail until trial, I never expected to see my home again. To see ordinary people. I hated when things didn’t go to plan.

“You look as though I’ve told you the family hamster’s died.” said Tom, perplexed. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a hamster once.” I said, avoiding the question. “He did actually die.”

“What happened?”

“My father was drunk, he squeezed him.”

Tom was aghast. “That’s horrible!”

“That’s life, Mr. Fraser.” I said matter-of-factly. “Pets die, people die.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Why? It was just an animal. I never liked him anyway.”

I hauled myself up to find Tom staring at me with mixed emotion. He shook himself slightly and said, “Your lawyer and dad are waiting.”

Dad? I sighed. I was so sure I was going to be on remand that I thought I would only see my father at the trial. The thought of being alone in the house with him and his inevitable questions irritated me. I followed Tom out of the place that had become my home and strolled down the clinically white corridor. I vaguely noticed the din had quietened; I looked up to see numerous officers and staff glancing at me surreptitiously, dropping their gaze or shuffling papers when our eyes connected. Tom placed his hand on my shoulder, as though to reassure me. This drew more looks, looks which did not falter this time. A chestnut-haired woman in a grey suit began whispering irreverently to another uniformed woman as I approached. I recognised the other woman as the policewoman who had arrested me. I smiled at her, she glared in response. As Tom and I drew level with the brunette, her whispering did not cease. Instead, her eyes were trained on the hand that was still positioned lightly on my shoulder.

“It’s rude to whisper” I whispered to her dramatically.

Her eyes narrowed as I passed. I could feel her shooting daggers at me as I reached the barrier, where a guard and Mr. Fitzhugh were waiting with my things.