Chapter Ten

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Plot reminder:  After stealing a knife, Nathan is escorting his little brother home from school. In the belief that the second recipient may be a teenager, Sergeant Wye has met with the teaching staff at the local school. In an earlier chapter the English teacher Maureen Booth joined in with class laughter at Nathan's expense. The editor of the local newspaper, Heather Gilchrist, had the possibilty via secret correspondance to end the reign of terror but in the interests of sales chose that the murderer continue his terrible game. She has an obnoxious teenage daughter, Abigail.

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When Nathan and Marcus finally made it home via the computer game shop there was a bundle of banknotes on the coffee table. Kevin must have made a couple of sales that afternoon. He and their mother were so zoned out neither batted an eyelid when Nathan reached down and helped himself to a twenty.

"Get you some Coco Pops," he promised Marcus, quickfooting it to the corner shop.

Once his brother was settled down on the floor in front of the TV with his bowl and spoon, he crept up the stairs to their room. His phone charged up again, the eye-popping world of internet porn was once more just a tap of the screen away...

There was a call he had to make first though. His contacts list not being the longest, it only took a moment to scroll through to Sophie. He would've spelt it Sofi, but she'd made a point of reading out the letters for him one by one.

"Nathan? Where were you today?"

They hadn't spoken for twenty-four hours or more. It was good to hear her voice again, like the first day of spring after a long cold winter. The sort of thing he should tell her out loud probably. Something held him back though. A whole lifetime of it. Of being held back.

"There was something I needed to sort out," he replied. Then: "Meet me later?"

"You're joking, right?"

He hadn't been, no. Far from it.

"Apart from the review of Polanski's Macbeth we're supposed to hand in tomorrow to Miss Booth-"

"The bitch."

"The bitch, yes."

He moved his right hand towards crotch. There was just something so hot about hearing Sophie Markham say the word bitch.

"Dad won't let me out his sight. Even picked me up from school today. First time in years."

He unzipped his fly, slipped hand inside. It was the way she pronounced her words. Wrapped her mouth around them, gave them their full dues. What it must be like to be brought up to say things the way they're meant to be said.

"Later then?" he suggested. "Usual place?"

"What? And get myself arrested? Yea, mum and dad would just love that."

The answer confused him a little. Risk getting in trouble with normal parents if you had them, this he could vaguely understand. Getting arrested though?

"Free country isn't it?"

"Not any more it seems. Haven't you heard Nathan? They've called a curfew."

But like so many others, the word was unknown to him. "A what?"

"A curfew. It means we can't be seen out after nine. Anyone under sixteen."

He lifted hand back out from under flies. This curfew thing, sounded like a pisser. A spanner in the works.

"There's something I need to tell you though."

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