A Journey Home

A Copper AND the Social?

For a Copper, Detective Sgt Janet Matthews was lovely and so was her husband Mark, also in the enemy's camp.

"Everything is going to be okay, I promise you," Janet assured him. The 'Newcastle United' knapsack she handed him was filled with sandwiches, fruit and drinks for the journey. "I promise you, you'll be okay."

Amid the clatter of a busy King's Cross station. He climbed aboard the waiting train.

"We won't call anyone until an hour before your due to arrive. There'll be someone there waiting for you. You've got our numbers; we'll always be here." Mark shouted above the din, resting his arm over his wife's shoulders and stepping back as the carriage door closed.

"Thanks." The brusque reply belied a magnitude of trust, respect and gratitude, painstakingly built up over previous months. The vocabulary of a 15-year-old was never going to be flowery or expressive, anyway. They walked along the carriage outside the train, shadowing his movement until he settled in a seat. A smile and a wrist high, almost unnoticeable wave from inside the carriage drew a tear from Mark, as the train pulled away.
"Come on you," Janet commanded, wrapping a protective arm firmly around his waist.

As the train pulled away, David pondered the future. Having spent the last three years wandering the streets, he was on his way home to the consequences of a dark childhood. His time away had seen him sleeping among drunks, drug addicts like his mum, vulnerable souls struggling for survival and kids, like himself, shut-out and alone. In one way, it had been an adventure.

He's a Spy!

Sat opposite in the train was a dapper man dressed in a grey suit, wearing glasses and a red bow tie.
"He's a spy." He thought to himself.
"Like Mike's friend, Malcolm,"
Janet told him about Malcolm. He worked somewhere secret for the government and wasn't pleasant. As the train rattled monotonously, the bow tie became buried in a book of gargantuan proportions.
"He's pretending to read." David Mused.
"He's pretending to read, but there'll be cameras taking photographs and secret microphones listening."

He recalled the cafe where Mike introduced him to Malcolm. He'd waited as they disappeared for about an hour before Mike came back clutching 50 quid in tenners. They ordered sausage, egg and chips before heading off to play on slot machines. A few days later, they were in the cafe again, where Malcolm was waiting with his friend. From there they went to the room of a hotel close to King's Cross station, and with £120 decorating the table, all four of them became naked in preparation for what was to follow. David was no stranger to this kind of behaviour.
The train rattled on, with the Spy totally engrossed in his book.

Always there to save the day!

Turning to his journey's end, he recalled Uncle Billy and his pal John Nevin who were a massive part of his childhood. Money was always tight, his mother, a drug addict, created so many problems, keeping the family together was as much as his Nan could do. Billy and his pal always came through, continually there, with money to save the day. Life was the same in London. In railway arches, hostels and empty doorways, there was always someone there, with money, saving the day.

He and Mike became close friends, each covering the others back. Then one night, Mike simply disappeared. He'd arranged to meet Malcolm, but David never saw him again. In desperation, each of the following three days, found him in the café all day, aimlessly toying with a drink, desperate for Mike or Malcolm to turn up, make him safe. When nothing happened, he went to the police station. The guy on the desk didn't seem interested and when David couldn't offer him an address, simply closed his book and told him not to worry, that people living on the streets would often wander off for weeks on end. He noticed his photograph among a missing persons advert lodged in the corner of a noticeboard as he left the premises. He recalled then, trying to tell his Nan about Uncle Billy and money. Like the guy on the desk, she dismissed his meanderings as imagination.

The Butcher.

The train stopped at Peterborough, and the bow tie opposite was joined by a stout, ruddy complexioned middle-aged guy.
Pulling out of the station, David labelled the man a 'Butcher', imagining raw meat being amputated, his heavy-handed, axe, slamming down on a solid wooden block.
"They're working together on some secret mission" He mused.

The train trundled on.

Whenever he needed money, he would get in touch with Malcolm's friend who would arrive at the café to save the day. He asked him about Malcolm or if he'd seen Mike, only to be stonewalled. As if they never existed.
Janet turned up about three months after the disappearance, asking questions around the railway arches and hostels. That's when he met her, It was only then he learned the horror of what happened.
In the cafe, she showed David a photograph of Mike at the very moment Malcolm's friend arrived to meet him. Their eyes met, he turned around and left. Janet knew him and exactly what he was about. After nailing down David's association with him, even though he insisted being 18, It wasn't long before the conversation centred on Malcolm, a man she was unable to approach without permission from a much higher authority. However, Gerrard, the man David knew as Malcolm's friend, was a different kettle of fish and her ability to place them together presented an opportunity to cut through red tape.

Bastion of Respectability.

As the train rumbled away from Newark North, David bit an Apple, reflective of the conversation with his Nan and her dismissal of his story. That bastion of respectability, John Nevin, was unquestionable. But he knew. He knew only too well. With a bribe of fish and chips, Janet persuaded David to go back with her to the police station, leaving him to eat while she had a chat with the owner of the cafe.
Mark, in his capacity as a representative of social services, was already at the police station when they arrived. He immediately matched David with the 'missing persons ' photograph, and they sat in the informal setting of a comfortable room. Janet took her time explaining thoughtfully, and mindful of David's age, how body parts had been discovered at sites across Greater London, identified by DNA as belonging to Mike. The tough-guy image crumbled. Another shattered world, too far for a 15-year-old to cope with. His tears were uncontrollable as he laid bare details of a wretched childhood.
They listened.

The Butterworth's - Unsung Heroes!

Mark was quickly able to place him with an elderly couple, well practised in foster care. Jean and Tony Butterworth gave him space, no questions. Just space and time to come to terms with so many things he should never have been exposed to. The few weeks he was with them inculcated trust he hadn't experienced. Jean and Tony would be inside his heart for a long time.
Without revealing his whereabouts, Mark contacted his Nan.

Spy and the Butcher, gone!

The Spy and the Butcher got off the train at York, their seats were taken by a couple motivated by laughter and happiness.
"Janet and Mark" He mused devouring the last of his sandwiches.

Over the past month, Mark had been in almost constant contact with Dave's Nan. Uncle Billy was dead, he already knew that. When he was cornered, in the dressing room at John Nevin's house, like a rat, kicking Uncle Billy hard, right there, where it hurts, seemed to be the best option. He watched him fall then, as Nevin approached, he picked up a weighty statue and reigned it down hard on his head, leaving them both prostrate on the floor. Billy wasn't breathing. All David could do was run, and run. He was still running.

Janet and her team charged Malcolm for the murder of Mike, and Gerrard pleaded guilty to charges of rape and sexual abuse of a child without the need for David's involvement in a trial. Mark had talked to him at length about his mother. How she'd been devastated by his disappearance, assuring him that she was clean and had been looking for him, desperate to have him home. Uncle Billy had died of a heart condition, nothing connected with the expertly aimed kick and John Nevin was safely locked away for offences that were brought to light as a direct result of the incident at his home.

The couple were still laughing as the train pulled into Newcastle Station. David spotted his mum and Nan on the platform. They saw him moving toward the door and ran alongside as it came to a halt. The door opened, and his Nan distinctly mouthed the word "Sorry."

He reclaimed his world.