Family ties

JC rounded the corner at a run, his worn out sneakers skidding in the rubble. With a quick glance over his shoulder he ducked through the hole in the brick wall that was all that was left of the old Henderson place. Moving carefully through the scree of broken bricks and shattered timbers until he was out of sight he stopped to listen, holding his breath lest his laboured breathing cover the sounds of pursuit. At last satisfied that he had lost Yonnie and his gang he sat down on a pile of rubble, waiting for his laboured breathing to slow and the pounding of his heart to fade from his ears.

As he sat in silence amidst the ruins of the tenement the only sound he could hear was the tinny voice of a news report coming from the cheap speakers of someone’s radio, probably in one of the squats in the block behind. Listening carefully he could make out what the reporter was saying, ‘the police received a tip today concerning..’

‘The police received a tip today concernin’ JC and ‘ow is ed was so far up is bum he couldn’t ear shite!’ The voice came from directly behind him and caused JC to give a strangled yelp of surprise as he slid ungraciously from his perch, shimmying backwards through the rubble, his heart pounding anew. Standing midst the rubble, with a mischievous grin on her face was a young girl. She was a scrawny thing, with lank shoulder length hair framing a dirt smudged, impish face. An over large grey sweat top hung almost to her knees over a ripped pair of cut off jeans and an almost painfully bright pair of pink Nike’s. The vehemence of JC’s reaction caused her to go into hysterics, her laughter ringing out through the slum.

Terror transformed into fury and JC lobbed a half brick at his cackling tormentor, who swayed aside, cat quick, her laughter subsiding into involuntary snorts and gurgles.
‘Fek it Ferret!’ JC raged, “I toldya to lemme alone!. Now eff off willya.’
“Awww, come on JC, you were right funny, looked like you were right to shite.’
‘T’aint funny’ stormed JC, his anger receding slightly. He lobbed another half brick at Ferret for good measure, which she ignored with the same practiced ease as the first. ‘I swear, if you weren’t me sis I’d smash ya, smash ya good.’ He grumbled finally, the last of his rage draining away. He could never stay mad at Ferret long, she was a pain sometimes, but she was all the family he had and in the London slums you had to stick with you family, they were the only ones who you could count on.

Looking serious now, Ferret sat down next to JC. ‘You stay away from that Yonnie JC, him and those other Somali’s they’ll croak ya without thinking twice.’
‘They don’t scare me’ scoffed JC, leaping from his recent humiliation to a well worn position of superiority in a heartbeat as only older brothers can. ‘When I get my ands on that hundred quid I’ll buy that shooter from the Greek and then I’ll show em! Then we’ll have our own squat Ferret, just you and me. We’ll be warm every night and if anyone comes and tries to take it away. BAM.’


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It was almost full dark now and JC was worried, Ferret was never this late coming in at night. It was dangerous in the slums after dark, especially for a young girl, and even though she was street smart and canny, his sister was still only an 11 year old girl.
JC moved cautiously into the main room of the squat, it was dangerous in here too, but the worry for Ferret was gnawing at him and he had to do SOMETHING.
Paddy O’Bain was crouched in front of the fireplace, the flames throwing his shadow onto the walls making it look huge and monstrous. An empty bottle of Jack lay on the floor next to him, another half empty one clutched in his hand. It was bad to bother Paddy at night when he had drink inside him JC knew, but his worry was growing into panic now and he dared more than he normally would.
‘Paddy, you seen Ferret?’
‘Eh?’
‘Feret, you seen er?”
JC could feel Paddy’s eyes on him now and he unconsciously shrank back into the shadowed of the doorway. ‘Eh, come closer boy, I kent ere ya.’
‘No Paddy. Seen er?’ he said, staying well away.
With a shrug Paddy settled back down to the floor and JC relaxed. ‘Nah, not since ‘safternoon kid, when she was talking to the ‘toff.’
‘What toff’?’ asked JC, his sense of unease growing, there were a few reasons wealthy people came to the slums and approached children, none of them savoury.
‘Oh, e’ were lookin for someone to make a delivery, you know. Had a bag wif im and all. E were talking to Ferret. I eard he were payin undred quid.’
An icy feeling suddenly gripped JC’s guts and he ran from the squat, taking the steps three at a time. He arrived on the street, heart pounding, and was suddenly aware that he had no idea what he could do. The icy feeling swept up from his belly and into his head, making everything seem unreal. Into the icy darkness came the crackling voice of a news reporter, echoing through the slum from cheap speakers.

‘As reported earlier, the police received a tip today concerning a plot to use children to deliver explosive devices to several public locations around London. This threat has become reality tonight, as this footage shows a young girl wearing bright pink shoes, believed to be no more that 11 years old, carrying a Harrods bag, believed to contain the device, into Fleet Street Station at peak hour. The resulting explosion has killed at least twenty five people, with many others severely injured.’