‘Give me that,’ Russell said, snatching the magazine and scanning the article. ‘Yeah, but they’re all posers and nancy boys. Hardly like the “real men” she’s claiming she wants a bit of now.’
Katie rolled her eyes. ‘You’re one to talk about “nancy boys”. I know for a fact that you would give your left testicle to sleep with half that list. Get real.’
‘I know it looks bad,’ Sarah put in, rubbing her stomach and shifting to try and get comfortable on the wooden chair. ‘But honestly I don’t think he’s interested in her. I’d be really surprised if he –’
‘Have you spoken to him?’ Katie cut in.
‘He won’t answer my calls. Rob’s talked to him a couple of times but he’ll only talk about the business and you know what men are like; they’re not very good at –’
‘Then I’m sorry, Sarse, but you don’t knowwhathe’s interested in at the moment, and neither do I. Let’s just forget about it.’
‘But Kate, there’s more to it than that. You don’t know the half –’
‘I am not sitting here listening to any more bollocks about Sam, Sarah. I mean it.’ The hard edge to Katie’s voice caused Sarah to snap her mouth closed (a small miracle in itself).
After an uncomfortable silence, Sarah finally whispered, ‘Okay, honey. We’ll talk about it later.’
‘A lot later,’ Katie said, her mouth setting into a grim line.
‘A lot later,’ Sarah agreed, giving Katie’s hand, which was clenched into a fist on the table, a small squeeze.
‘Right then,’ said Russell, snatching the copy ofHeatfrom the middle of the table and lifting it over his head with a flourish before shoving it into the hands of the next unsuspecting person to walk past their table (this happened to be Mrs Hughes pushing her shopping trolley; she wasted no time in adding it to her already vast collection). ‘Enough about Weird Rambo. Who’s going to tackle my latest dilemma for me? Balls: to shave or not to shave? That is the question.’
Chapter 27
This is what you’re going to tell them
‘Put my brother down,’ Benji told the man, his hands on his hips and his feet planted wide. He watched as the tall man slowly lowered Finlay down to the ground, and noticed that he kept a restraining hand on Finlay’s elbow.
‘I was just showing your little bro here my toy gun,’ the man said, smiling at Benji. Benji’s eyes flicked down to the large black metal object clasped in a delighted Finlay’s hands, then back up to the man’s face.
‘You’re a stranger. You shouldn’t be talking to my brother. Andthatis not a toy.’ The man’s head tilted to the side whilst he slid what looked like a mobile phone into his back pocket.
‘Clever, aren’t you,’ the man said, his smile growing even wider.
‘Yes, very,’ Benji returned, staring right into the man’s eyes. ‘Clever enough to know that you are not allowed a gun in a shopping centre. Clever enough to know that you are breaking the law. And clever enough to know that if you don’t let my brother go and I scream this place down, you would have a lot of explaining to do.’ The man’s eyes widened and he immediately lifted his hands off Finlay.
‘Bang, bang,’ shouted Finlay, holding the gun up to point it at the man and giggling with delight. The man moved to grab the gun back but Benji was faster; he snatched the gun out of Finlay’s hands and shoved a now very cross Finlay behind him.
‘Want it!’ Finlay whimpered. Benji inspected the gun for a second and then found the safety, flicking it off.
‘Oh shit,’ he heard the man whisper, his face now a curious shade of green.
‘Clever enough to know how to work a gun,’ Benji said, clasping the gun with two hands and aiming it at the man steadily despite its weight. ‘Clever enough to shoot a man like you if you come any closer to me or my brother.’
The man’s eyes flicked from Benji to the gun, and he ran both his hands through his hair before muttering, ‘Christ, fine, whatever, you little freak.’ He looked around the deserted corridor for a moment, then spun on his heel to jog away.
Benji flicked the safety back on, opened up his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle backpack, and shoved the gun inside before grabbing Finlay’s hand and dragging him back into the shopping centre.
‘Want gun!’ Finlay said again, fighting against Benji’s grip.
‘Finlay Davis, you are such a blooming dullard,’ Benji said, dragging him along and scanning the shops for their mum. ‘You never go with a stranger, you never talk to them, and youneverplay with their toys.’
‘Want gun!’
‘Ugh! How are we even related? Come on, Brain Cell, shift your bum.’
*****
