ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(2)

Andrew glanced at his fourteen-year old daughter’s naked legs and wished once more that she would cover up. She doesn’t realise how much of a woman she’s becoming. Time she started being a little more aware of herself.

Bex caught her father’s stares and frowned. She pulled down the hem of the towel so that it was closer to her knees. “Happy now?” she asked him. “So, can we have chippy?”

Andrew looked at Pen for approval, not particularly fussed himself. He wasn’t a big eater most nights.

Pen shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t mind chips.”

Bex clapped her hands excitedly. “Cod and chips, please, Dad. Salt, no vinegar.”

Andrew laughed. “Don’t you think I know that? Been feeding you fourteen-bloody-years.”

“And if you don’t feed me again soon, I might not make fifteen.” Becky sucked in her cheeks so that she looked like a starving ghoul. Add the chaotic mess of her hair and the impression was quite convincing.

Andrew let his breath out in a whistle. “Alright, little Miss Drama Queen. I’ll get going right away; wouldn’t want you to starve. I think I’ll walk, though – save the petrol – but then the three of us can settle down and watch a movie together. Isn’t there a Stephen King film on tonight, Bex?”

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling away from her mother’s hair-straightening fingers and flopping back on the sofa. Her hair was now sufficiently straightened to pass for human. “Don’t think it’s for you, though, Dad; has monsters and stuff. You don’t like blood and violence.”

“Perhaps I’ll make an exception if it means spending some time with my increasingly-absent daughter. You never have time for your old dad anymore.”

“It’s because you smell so bad.”

“Charming. I suppose you’re too good for a bit of B.O. now that you’re a teenager.

Pen interrupted the exchange. “Can we save the banter for after we’ve all eaten, please? You’re as bad as she is sometimes, Andrew.”

Andrew put his hands up in defence. “I’m going.”

He left the warmth of the living room and stepped into the chillier hallway. His shoes were in the front porch and he went to retrieve them, whistling a made-up tune as he went. He could see the group of youths outside through the glass of the PVC front door. Pen had been right: there was ten or more of them now; mostly boys – but not all. Andrew counted at least two young girls amongst them about Rebecca’s age.

I wouldn’t let my daughter hang around the streets with a bunch of boys. Their parents must be mad.

Andrew still stood by what he said earlier, though: they were just bored kids with nothing better to do. It wasn’t like there was a decent cinema or bowling alley. In fact there wasn’t anything for the kids to do in Redditch town during the evenings. They would have to venture into Birmingham for anything beyond a scrappy game of football. The kids outside were just trying to entertain themselves. There was no reason to be frightened of them; in fact, it would likely make things worse. If you treated young people like thugs all of the time then that’s exactly how they’d end up behaving.

Kick a dog and it’ll bite.

Andrew pushed aside his shoes and decided upon a pair of trainers instead. The Nike running shoes were new and a little uncomfortable, but he wanted to try and wear them in quickly – the local squash league began again soon. He tied the laces loosely to reduce the pinching on his toes, then stood up and pulled his brown-leather wallet from his jeans, checking for cash. He had just over twenty-pounds in notes and change – more than enough to cover dinner. The final thing he did was pull on his long, black overcoat from the stand in the corner. Even from inside the porch, it was clear that the weather outside was nippy.

Tough winter ahead, Andrew thought to himself as he fastened the final button on his jacket.

Once he was ready, he unlocked the front door and stepped outside into the bitter, grey dusk of the autumn evening. The frosty air immediately gravitated towards him as though he was a cold-weather magnet. Andrew gave his shoulders a quick, vigorous rub and then started down the pathway.

The teenagers across the road seemed to notice Andrew’s presence as he left his property, but they paid him hardly any attention. They seemed content simply chatting amongst themselves.

Too consumed with their smartphones and iPods, probably.

Just like Andrew had told Pen, there was nothing to worry about – just a bunch of bored kids. In fact, he was going to walk right by them to prove a point. He was willing to bet that they wouldn’t make so much as a peep at him.