A Place of Hiding (Inspector Lynley, #12)(173)

Paul reached for his father, to pull him to a safety that didn’t exist. Billy turned on him next. “You keep away, wanker. Out of this. Hear? We got business, him and me.” He grabbed his father’s jaw and squeezed it, twisting his head to one side so Paul could clearly see his father’s face. “Check this mug out,” Billy told him. “Pathetic worm. Won’t fight no one.”

Taboo’s barking got louder. Voices came near.

Bill brought his father’s face back around. He pinched his nose and grabbed both of his ears. “Wha’s it going to take?” he mocked him. “What makes you into a real man, Dad?”

Ol shoved his son’s hands away from his head. “Enough!” His voice was loud.

“Already?” Billy laughed. “Dad, Dad. We’re just starting up.”

“I said enough!” Ol Fielder shouted.

This was what Billy wanted and he danced away in delight. His hands made fists and he laughed, punching triumphantly at the air. He turned back to his father and mimicked the fancy footwork of a boxer. He said,

“Where d’you want it, then? In here or outside?”

He advanced on the bed, throwing jabs and thrusts. But only one of them connected with their father’s body—a blow to the temple—before the room seemed full of people. Blue-uniformed men came crashing through the door, followed by Mave Fielder carrying Paul’s youngest sibling. Right behind her were the two middle boys, jam on their faces and toast in their hands.

Paul thought they’d come to separate his father and his oldest brother. Somehow someone had rung the police and they’d been nearby, so close as to be able to get here in record time. They would take care of matters and drag Billy away. They’d lock him up, and there’d be peace in the house at last.

But what happened was something far different. One said, “Paul Fielder?” to Billy. “You Paul Fielder?” as the other advanced on Paul’s brother. That one said, “What’s going on here, sir?” to Paul’s father. “Is there some sort of trouble?”

Ol Fielder said no. No, there was no trouble here, just a family squabble that was being sorted out. This your boy Paul, the constable wanted to know.

“They want our Paulie,” Mave Fielder said to her husband. “They won’t say why, Ol.”

Billy crowed. “Caught you at last, you tosser,” he said to Paul. “Been making a real spectacle of yourself at the public loo? Warned you about hanging about down there, di’n’t I?”

Paul quivered against the headboard of his bed. He saw that one of his younger brothers was holding on to Taboo’s collar. The dog was continuing to bark, and one of the constables said, “Will you shut that thing up?”

“Got a gun?” Billy asked with a laugh.

“Bill!” Mave cried. Then, “Ol? Ol? What’s this about?”

But, of course, Ol Fielder knew no more than anyone else. Taboo continued to bark. He squirmed, trying to get away from Paul’s youngest brother.

The constable ordered, “Do something about that bloody animal!”

Taboo just wanted to be released, Paul knew. He just wanted to reassure himself that Paul wasn’t hurt. The other constable said, “Here. Let me...” And he grabbed Taboo’s collar to drag him away.

The dog bared his teeth. He snapped at him. The constable gave a cry and kicked him soundly. Paul flew off the bed to go to his dog, but Taboo ran yelping down the stairs.

Paul tried to follow, but he found himself held back. His mother was crying, “What’s he done? What’s he done?” as Billy laughed wildly. Paul’s feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor, one of them accidentally kicking a constable’s leg. That man grunted and his grip on Paul loosened. Which gave Paul time to grab his rucksack and make for the door.

“Stop him!” someone yelled.

It was a small matter to do so. The room was so crowded that there was nowhere to go and certainly no place to hide. In short order Paul was being marched down the stairs and out of the house. He existed within a whirlwind of images and sounds from that moment forward. He could hear his mum continuing to ask what they wanted with her little Paulie, he could hear his dad saying, “Mave. Girl, try to be calm.” He could hear Billy laughing and, somewhere, Taboo barking, and outside he could see the neighbours lined up. Above them, he could see the sky was blue for the first time in days, and against it the trees that edged the lumpy car park looked like impressions rendered in charcoal. Before he knew what was happening to him, he was in the back of a police car with his rucksack clutched to his chest. His feet were cold and he looked down at them to realise he had on no shoes. He was still in his tattered bedroom slippers, and no one had thought to give him time to put on a jacket.

The car door slammed and the engine roared. Paul heard his mother continue her shouting. He screwed his head round as the car began to move. He watched his family fade away.

Then from round the side of the crowd, Taboo came running after them. He was barking furiously and his ears were flapping.

“Damn fool dog,” the constable who was driving murmured. “ ’F he doesn’t go back home—”

“Not our problem,” the other said.

They pulled out of the Bouet into Pitronnerie Road. When they reached Le Grand Bouet and picked up speed, Taboo was still frantically running behind them.