Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [3]
Jack shared the large, draughty room with Mikey, a Jamaican who worked as a brickie on the same site as Jack. Of course, Mikey knew that Eddy stayed over, and while he frequently made his disapproval of their relationship clear, he had never voiced his objections to the landlady. Mikey, who was almost twenty, had lived in London for a couple of years, ever since he had left Jamaica to look for work. Mikey didn’t get on very well with his family back home, corresponding only by short, terse messages scrawled on the back of postcards. Recently, life at Mrs Carroway’s had become a little cramped since Mikey’s younger brother, Dennis, had moved in with them. So now there were 4
two new ‘guests’ to be kept hidden from the prying eyes of Mrs Carroway.
Mikey’s brother Dennis was nine and two months; at least this is what he would proudly boast if anyone asked. Mother had arranged a job for him selling the Evening News from a stand on Wardour Street. As Eddy had half an hour to kill before meeting up with Jack, he decided to pay the boy a visit and keep him company in the rain.
The weather had worsened by the time Eddy arrived at Dennis’s pitch on Wardour Street. The stall was there, sheltered from the rain in the mouth of a narrow alley. A stack of soggy newspapers lay pinned down by a half-brick on the makeshift table, but little Dennis was nowhere to be seen. Eddy felt the first prickle of anxiety when he saw that Dennis had left the cash box beside the damp papers. Something was wrong.
From somewhere behind him came a high-pitched shriek. The sound of a child in pain. Eddy turned and saw a tight knot of figures a little way down the alley behind the paper stall. Despite the darkness in the alley, he recognized the small shape of Dennis lying on the ground in the middle of the group. The boy was on his hands and knees, struggling uncertainly to his feet. The tallest of the three men shoved the West Indian boy back on to the ground as he tried to stand. Eddy heard Dennis squeal as a well placed kick caught him in the stomach.
Eddy forgot about Jack and the day’s events at the salon. Without pausing to think, he ran into the alley and leapt on to the back of the man who had kicked Dennis, his momentum taking them both to the ground. The man fell awkwardly and Eddy was satisfied to hear him cry out in pain as his head connected sharply with the pavement.
‘Run Dennis,’ Eddy heard himself shout. ‘Run and tell Mother. Quickly.’
The little boy scampered away, disappearing quickly around a comer of the alley.
As Eddy clambered to his feet preparing to run himself, rough hands picked him up and pushed him against the alley wall. One of the men was about to deliver a punch to his face when he was interrupted by another.
‘Leave him.’ The voice came from Dennis’s attacker, the man whom Eddy had brought to the ground. ‘Leave him for me.’
A petrol lighter flared uncomfortably close to Eddy’s face. He flinched from the heat, but the grip of the men prevented him from moving away. A young ginger-haired man with a deep graze on his cheek swam into Eddy’s vision.
The red-haired man giggled. It was a soft, high noise. Something about it made Eddy shiver.
‘We’ve been looking for you, Eddy Stone.’ The ginger-haired man whispered, wincing a little as he spoke. A swollen tear of blood ran down his face from the cut on his cheek.
5
The ginger-haired man brought his hand up to the cut on his face and then looked at the blood on his fingers. Smiling without humour, he traced a red line across Eddy’s throat. Metal flashed in the orange