Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [19]
‘Is your dad picking you up, or am I expected to drive you home?’ asked Grandad.
‘You know Dad.’
‘In yer get.’
Zaki let Jenna into the back of the car before getting in the front.
‘If you put the radio on, we might catch the shipping forecast,’ said Grandad as he started the motor. The forecast with its litany of place names – Forties, Cromarty, Forth, Tyne, Dogger, Fisher, German Bight – seemed to Zaki to belong to Grandad in the same way as the smell of wood and varnish, and, as Zaki watched him steer the old Volvo through the twisting lanes above Batson Creek, he could imagine him at the wheel of a trawler battling its way through a force 8 gale in sea areas Fastnet, Shannon or Rockall.
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Grandad pulled up in front of the house in Moor Lane.
‘I’ll not stop, the ol’ dog’ll be wantin’ her dinner.’
‘Thanks for the lift, Grandad.’
‘Watch that arm, boy.’
As the car pulled away, Zaki was astonished to see the grey cat waiting by the gate. She must have sneaked into the car, thought Zaki. How else could she have got here?
The cat followed him into the house, and immediately made herself at home in the kitchen.
‘Where’d that cat come from?’ asked Michael, who was spreading a thick layer of peanut butter on to a piece of toast.
‘Grandad’s.’
‘Grandad doesn’t have a cat.’
‘You asked me where it came from, not whose it was.’
‘All right, smart arse, whose is it?’
‘I don’t know, do I.’
‘Well, I don’t know what Dad’s going to say.’
‘Isn’t he home yet?’
‘Not yet.’
‘I’m starving.’
‘Make yourself some toast, that’s what I’m doing.’
‘But I’ve got a bad arm.’
‘Aw, diddums! All right – have this piece. I suppose I can make myself another!’
‘Thanks, Michael. You’re a pal.’
‘Yeah, aren’t I.’
Zaki waited to see if Michael would say anything about the first day of school but, having made another piece of toast, Michael headed upstairs. His bedroom door slammed and soon Zaki heard him playing his guitar. He had begun mixing bass runs in with the strummed rhythms and, although he would never say it to his brother, Zaki had to admit Michael’s playing was sounding surprisingly good.
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Chapter 6
The grass, long and wet, clung to his ankles. He wanted to leave, to run, but the grass was holding him back. He shouldn’t be in this field. This was the field where they buried the bodies. The ground heaved by his feet. A hand reached up to grasp his leg.
Zaki woke, his heart pounding, but as the dream image faded he became aware of two eyes that glowed in the soft morning light filtering through the window curtains. The cat was sitting on the table beside his bed, looking down at him, her pupils large and dark.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Zaki.
The cat tucked her forepaws under her chest, closed her eyes and seemed to doze, sphinx-like, inscrutable, as though, now Zaki was awake, she no longer needed to be on watch.
The relief of waking and finding the horror that had gone before was just a bad dream was quickly followed by the stomach-clenching realisation that today was his first day at a new school, THE BIG SCHOOL. Of course, he comforted himself, Michael would be there – Michael knew his way around; Michael would show him what to do – it wasn’t like it was the complete unknown. And friends from his primary school were going up with him – yeah, Craig would be there – but he still wished he could crawl back under the sheets, put today off, claim his arm hurt too much. Yeah, and he’d gone and missed the first day when everyone found out where their classrooms were. Was he meant to take PE kit? No, he couldn’t do PE ’cause of his arm. His primary school had been small and friendly; he’d been one of the big kids. Now he’d be one of the smallest. If his mum had been here, she would have phoned up and found out what the timetable was. Why was his dad so useless at that sort of thing!? Didn