Ahead of his Time by Adrian Cousins (children's books read aloud .txt) 📕

“But Jess—”

“NO! There's no point.”

“Jess, I'm sure the baby is fine. You haven’t bled since then?”

Jess arched her eyebrows, probably surprised that a bloke would say such a thing. “Err … no.”

“Okay, good. So make a doctor's appointment for tomorrow.”

She nodded.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

She shook her head, then looked up. “No, I’ll be fine.” She gave a tight smile.

“Jess, I’m going to have to go, as Jenny will be wondering where the hell I am. Promise me you’ll see the doctor tomorrow morning?” She nodded again. “I’ll pop up tomorrow on my way home and see how you are.”

She delivered that tight smile again. “Okay, thanks.”

I now felt like poo as I left Jess on her own in the flat, but I had to get off home. I’d offered to contact a friend to see if someone could keep her company, but she declined. For sure, I needed to get back tomorrow and check she was okay. Well, okay-ish under the circumstances.

I fished out my car key and was about to ram it in the lock when I noticed my car aerial was missing. I moved back to look at the damage, annoyed that I hadn’t retracted it and locked it in position. Glancing around, I could see a few silhouettes standing near Dublin house, momentarily giving away their positions as they dragged on their cigarettes. However, I wouldn’t be able to identify the culprit. Kids, I suspected, who were long gone.

God, I hated this estate.

26

Orinoco

Paul leant up against the concrete support at the front of the stairwell to Dublin house. From this vantage point, he had a good view of the central square but was reasonably well hidden from view. He’d watched the Apple bloke come from the Belfast block and climb into a Triumph Stag – nice motor, he thought. But he was intrigued to know why he’d been here on the estate. He’d last seen him at court last Monday. But he had no reason to be here. The Hall girl was dead, which made him smirk, and the old git next door had moved out before Christmas. So why was he visiting Belfast House? He would have to put the word out and find out. However, that wasn’t important. He needed to get some information on the driver of a yellow Cortina, although there were probably hundreds of them about.

Paul lit another cigarette and scrunched up the empty packet of Piccadilly. He lobbed it at the can of TopDeck shandy that sat on the stairwell, its position almost inviting the pot-shot. He checked his watch as he waited for Andy, his little brother.

Now David was gone, he was going to have to get Andy trained, and trained fast. David had been a handy errand boy. Although Andy was only eleven, he needed to grow up, and grow up quickly; start pulling his weight and pick up some of the slack that David used to. Paul could then focus on growing the family business, like extending their extortion racket, which was just as lucrative and less risky than supplying drugs to the low life junkies who caused more hassle than they were worth.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Paul hissed, as Andy appeared from the back of the stairwell.

Andy finished his Cadburys Wombles chocolate bar and let the paper and foil wrappers drop to the floor.

Paul watched the wrapper float down.

Andy shrugged. “The Wombles can pick it up.”

“The Wombles?”

Andy stared up at his brother as he swirled the chocolate around his mouth and licked his lips. “Yeah, you know … Orinoco and that lot.”

Paul shook his head. “It’s not Wimbledon Common, you know. You need to do some growing up, and fast, kiddo.”

Although Paul was almost twice his size, Andy wasn’t intimidated by him. He knew Ma would kill Paul if he turned violent with him. Now David was gone, Andy knew Ma was his ‘ace up his sleeve’ to protect himself from Paul.

Paul reached inside his jacket and had a quick glance around to ensure no prying eyes. He grabbed hold of Andy’s hand and slapped the small brick-shaped package into it. “Cal Gower is waiting for it … you know where to go. Don’t fuck it up; otherwise, I’ll rip your throat out.”

Andy just stared at him but didn’t move.

Paul slapped him around the head. “Go on shit-head, fuck off.”

Andy sneered, but begrudgingly left to deliver the package as instructed.

Paul flicked his cigarette butt into the air as he made his way over to the community centre. A couple of low-life snoops should be there and, if they wanted to keep their front teeth, they’d better have come up with some information for him.

Although the community centre was a shit hole, he liked the respect he commanded in there. If no Gower was in the bar, he, as a Colney, was the top of the food-chain. The way everyone averted their eyes and stepped a few feet further away when he reached the bar was real power.

Steve, the bar manager, pulled his pint. He was close friends with his old man, so not intimidated by Paul, but he still played it carefully. He knew how to keep his position secure, which was a delicate balance when dealing with Gowers and Colneys. Paul pulled out a handful of change from his jeans pocket, but Steve shook his head, making it clear no payment was required – the power. Paul leant on the bar as two blokes on bar stools discreetly vacated their position and moved to a table at the bottom end of the room – the power. Sandy, one of the local slappers, made a point of coming up to him, flirting as she seductively licked the straw sticking out the top of her drink.

“Or’right, Paul? You on your own tonight then?” she asked, as she continued to suggestively swirl her tongue around the straw and gazed up into his eyes.

Paul just