‘So, you want to run away then, boy?’
‘Aye,’ he answered, squaring his shoulders, sensing that any sign of weakness would be jumped on by this guy. The man in front of him was even taller than his dad; his cheeks were hollow, his teeth yellow even in the weak light, and his eyes radiated a need to satisfy something, an urge that the boy couldn’t even try to name.
‘What you called, then?’
‘Ben,’ he lied. He was aware he knew almost nothing. He’d barely been out of his housing estate in all his fourteen years and therefore had little knowledge of the world. But he knew enough to protect himself. A lie was a little bit of safety in this moment.
‘I can get you to London, Ben.’ The man slowly rubbed his hands together. Lahndun. He pronounced it like they did on EastEnders. But as if he was taking the piss. ‘You want to go to London?’
London.
He’d seen it on the telly. It was bound to be miles away. Lots of people went there, he knew, to either make lots of money, or to vanish.
‘Yes, please.’
‘He says please. I like a lad wiv manners.’ The man smiled. One of his front two teeth on the top row was half the length of the other. ‘Got any money?’
Ben ducked his head. Shook it.
‘Not got any money?’
Ben shook his head again, feeling his desperation grow. This man had to help him. He had to get away. And stay away. Going back was just unthinkable. He felt … damaged. And the only way to get away from that damage was to move – away.
‘’Ow on earth you gonna get to London wivout any money?’
Ben shrugged a dunno.
‘Cat’s got your tongue and you ain’t got no money.’
The man was teasing him, Ben realised. And enjoying his discomfort.
‘I can work,’ he said rousing some defiance. ‘I’m a quick learner.’
‘Sure you are,’ the man said as he looked him up and down, his face souring as he did so, as if Ben had been judged and found to be lacking. The man sucked his teeth, then scratched at his chin as if making a tricky decision. It was all an act, Ben knew. The decision had been made the second the man saw him.
Ben had approached every stall, every ride in the fair, asking for work. Most looked him up and down and then dismissed him with a sneer, a loud curse or a wave of the hand.
Until the largest woman Ben had ever seen had taken an interest in him. She’d grabbed his arm with a strength that surprised him and pulled him to a small caravan just behind the dodgems. She huffed as she squeezed through the door and invited him inside.
‘What are you running away from, son?’ She asked. Now that she was inside it felt to Ben that she had changed and was less sure of herself.
‘Stuff.’
‘Whatever it is it can’t be worse than what could be ahead of you.’
‘There’s no way it could be worse,’ he huffed. ‘I need to get away.’
‘Okay,’ she said quietly. Her face darkened, and the expression that formed on her face chilled Ben. It was as if she’d reached a conclusion that was distasteful but unavoidable. ‘I know a guy.’
She got to her feet, her bulk almost enough to block out the light from the window at the end of the van. ‘First let me make us a wee cuppa.’ She took a step across to the smallest kitchen Ben had ever seen, turned her back to him and started to bustle around.
As she did so Ben looked at the door. He felt the breeze that was coming in and thought about leaving. Whatever he had just set in motion could be dangerous. He had no way of knowing if this woman and the guy she was talking about had anyone’s interests at heart apart from their own.
He felt a chill run through him. He should run out. But his feet and limbs were locked into position. Whatever lay ahead of him couldn’t be worse than what was behind him.
‘Have a seat, son,’ the woman said over her shoulder.
The kettle sang its way to the boil and she soon put a hot, milky drink in front of him.
‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Drink up. It won’t kill you,’ she said in a tone that suggested it just might. Ben reached out for the mug, placed it to his mouth and sipped. It was sweet, and not too hot. Just the way his Mum used to make it. At the thought of his mother, Ben felt a yearning. But quashed it. He wasn’t going back home. Not ever. He took another sip and noticed a sourness this time as it hit the back of his tongue.
‘I put a little whisky in it,’ the woman said as if she’d read his reaction. ‘Put hairs on your chest.’
He was almost a grown-up, wasn’t he? He could handle a little whisky. And to prove it he took a large gulp.
Prompted by the woman, he continued sipping until the mug was empty. His eyes felt suddenly very heavy. He opened them wide as if to combat the feeling.
‘Relax, son,’ the woman said. ‘Running away is hard work, eh?’ Her large bosom heaved as she filled the space between them with her laugh and its hard edges.
He slipped down on the bench he was sitting on, allowing his head to rest on a cushion that smelled of sweat, cigarettes and whisky.
The woman disappeared, but returned soon after. How long she’d been away he had no way of knowing. Could have been minutes. Might have been hours.
Ben felt weight shift in the caravan and tried to pull himself up through the fog that had slowed his mind. He could hear two voices.
‘That’s us done after this one, Seth.’ Ben recognised the woman’s voice. ‘From now on I owe you nuthin’.’
‘Dream on, darling,’ Seth snarled. ‘The debt’s done when we tell you it’s done.’
‘I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t.’ She sobbed. ‘And what are you doing with these kids? It’s not right.’
Ben felt the weight shift on the caravan floor again, and even in his drugged state he could feel the energy in the space heighten. Then the man spoke in a low voice. ‘You got any money to give me, sweetheart?’
Nothing.
‘Wot’s that? I can’t hear ya.’
‘No,’ she said in a tremulous voice.
‘So, you’ll know what to do about it then, wontcha?’
‘Yes.’
The next he knew, he was sitting up in what looked like the back of the van, now on top of a quilt.
The double door was open, and beyond it Ben could see brightly coloured stalls, gaudy signs, and more caravans and large vehicles. He rubbed at his eyes. This wasn’t the same place he’d been in before. Where had this guy taken him?
‘Don’t know what that old bitch gave you but it will soon wear off,’ the man said, and Ben could hear the irritation in his voice. ‘This has got to be your choice. I ain’t hijacking any kids.’
Ben opened his mouth to say, Well, it kind of feels like it, but changed his mind. He sensed that kind of backchat wouldn’t go down so well. He shifted position as he felt pressure on his bladder.
‘Need a piss?’
He nodded.
The man shifted crab-like to the end of the van and hopped out.
‘C’mon, before you wet yourself,’ the man motioned. ‘There’s a tree over there. Be quick, while no one’s watching.’
When Ben was finished, he turned to find the man sitting on the end of the van’s floor space, feet crossed at the ankles as he smoked a cigarette. That he’d been given such leeway relaxed him slightly. The man was apparently unconcerned that he might run for it.
‘Hungry?’ the man asked.
Ben nodded.
‘Mate, this is going to be a long trip if you don’t loosen that tongue of yours.’
‘Yeah. I’d like something to eat. Thanks,’ he added, remembering the man’s comment about his politeness.
‘I could eat a fucking horse, mate. There’s a burger bar further down the fair. Let’s go.’ And without waiting, he turned and started marching away.
Ben ran to catch up, and as they walked Ben looked around. People were milling around everywhere. Families, groups of boys, groups of girls. Everyone animated. Every face bright with the expectation of fun. And Ben had never felt so alone. This was stupid. He was being stupid. What did this man really want with him? He imagined himself running up to a family and asking for help. But then he imagined the mother grouping her children around her as if saving them from his threat, and heard the father telling him to go away.
The fair was set up in a large field surrounded by houses. Ben had no idea where he was, but judging by the accents of the people around him he was still in Scotland.
The man stopped walking and placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. ‘Still hungry?’
‘Yes, please,’ Ben replied, unsure why he’d added a please to his answer.
‘Okay, then,’ the man said as he looked around. ‘First, a little test.’
He appeared to be scanning the crowd nearest them, clustered round a stall where people were throwing darts at playing cards. He stopped and homed in on a young couple.
‘Nothing dodgy, like,’ the man said as he looked down at Ben. ‘A test. Nothing more. To see what kind of smarts you got. Okay?’
Ben nodded, and then said, ‘Yes.’ And as the man loomed over him, it occurred to him that there was a threat in the wide hang of his shoulders and the large, heavy hand that rested on his shoulder.
‘That couple. The girl with the long, dark hair, and the lad with the Scotland strip. You need to separate them.’