Seven Days(71)

Which was probably right, in theory. In practice, though, not everyone did go through the same things. Not every teenage boy lost his sister in the way James had. Yes, we all had wounds, but his was deeper and more abiding.

And it was still there. So Sandra wasn’t going to waste time arguing with him about a missed dinner.

Hey. Guess you’re not coming? No problem. Maybe tomorrow, if you feel like it? xoxo, Mum.

She added the xoxo, Mum so that he would know she was not upset with him. She and Martin could eat together. She took out two plates, a bottle of white wine, and headed for the kitchen table.

‘No James?’ Martin asked, as he sat down.

‘He said he was coming. I texted him, but he didn’t reply.’

There was a long pause. Since Maggie, anytime James was unavailable or didn’t reply or was missing in any way, however innocent, there was a moment when the panic and terror of her disappearance was right in front of them again.

‘I’m sure he’s OK,’ Martin said.

‘Probably in the pub.’

Sandra spooned some of the fish pie on to Martin’s plate. He glanced at his phone. ‘What time was James supposed to be here?’

‘Six.’

‘I’m going to give him a call. Check what he’s doing.’

‘Don’t make him feel bad. It’s not a problem if he doesn’t want to come.’

‘I won’t. But I’d like to know where he is. Just in case.’





Four Years Earlier: July 2014


James



1


‘I’m not sure about this,’ James said. ‘We might get caught.’

He didn’t really want to do it at all – it seemed unfair – but that wasn’t something he thought Davo and Carl would care about. Getting caught, though, might be.

Davo sniffed. He had a permanent cold, his nose constantly running.

‘It’ll be easy money,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. Carl’ll look out for anyone coming while me and you get it done.’

The plan was to mug a window cleaner Davo had noticed. He had seen him working and come to the conclusion that it would be simple to relieve him of his takings. He’d be in the back garden of some big house, hidden away at the end of the day when no one was in, walking around with a load of cash in his pocket.

He was also in his late sixties, and about five foot six, so he wouldn’t put up much of fight.

Davo grabbed his elbow. His grip was stronger than James expected, given how thin he was.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

They were standing on a quiet road opposite a large detached house. The window cleaner was working around the back. Davo tugged him towards the driveway.

‘Go on,’ Carl said. ‘I’ll keep an eye out. You hear me whistle and you leg it, OK?’

James followed Davo around the side of the house. There was a gate but it was unlocked. Davo shook his head.

‘People make it easy for you, they really do,’ he whispered. ‘They deserve whatever they get.’

He walked slowly along the length of the wall, then peeked around the corner. He looked at James and gave a thumbs up, then beckoned him to follow.

They stepped out on to a wide patio. The window cleaner was working on the patio doors, his back to them.

They watched as he slowed. He looked at their reflections in the window and turned to them.

‘All right, lads,’ he said. He had neat grey hair and glasses and small, precise features.

‘All right,’ Davo said. ‘You can make this easy or hard, mate. I know you’ve got money, so hand it over.’

‘I haven’t,’ the window cleaner said. He was calm. ‘I’ve got about forty quid on me. It’s not worth it.’

‘You’ve got more than that,’ Davo said. ‘You must have. You’ve been at it all day.’

The window cleaner laughed. ‘I don’t get cash, mate. This is the twenty-first century. I use apps. You think I want to walk around with a load of cash when there’s scum like you about? So why don’t we call this a day? You leave me to my job and go on with your life, and no hard feelings?’

Davo shook his head. ‘We’ll take the forty quid,’ he said. ‘And whatever else you’re hiding.’ He took a step towards the window cleaner. ‘Hand it over.’

James did not have much experience with this kind of thing, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to stand behind his friend – accomplice – doing nothing. He stepped forward.

The window cleaner shook his head.

‘Don’t do this, boys,’ he said. ‘It’s really not a good idea.’

Davo twitched. ‘Now,’ he said.

The window cleaner held up his hands. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Five minutes later they were on their way back to the flat.

James’s throat was agony, but all in all he’d got off lightly. Davo was hobbling, his face green.

They were also penniless.

The window cleaner had turned out to be some kind of ex-soldier and, before he and Davo could move, he had kicked Davo hard in the balls – it had made a kind of crunching sound that James could still hear – and then elbowed James in the throat.