EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY EIGHT
Callum listened for
the slam of the front door, indicating that his mum had gone out on her usual Friday
night binge drinking. He was always relieved
when she went out and had the house to himself.
Unless Kelly, his older sister, was home – she really wound him up. Especially if she was with her scumbag
boyfriend Danton. That was a stupid
bloody name an’ all. Danton. Still, there was something about Danton that
Callum admired. It was the bloke’s self
confidence. However much of a tosser he
was, he believed in himself. That’s what
Callum aspired to. Self-belief. And he
was getting there. Slowly but surely.
He heard his mother shouting from downstairs.
‘Off out!’
Then the slam of the door as the house shook.
That was his mother. Could never
do anything quietly. He fancied a drink
himself, just pop down to the Robin Hood,
shove some money in the fruit machine, see if he could get a couple of
jackpots like the last time. Over fifty
quid he took out of that machine. Less the tenner he’d invested.
Trouble with going in the Robin Hood was:
he’d probably find his mother propping up the bar; her and that scumbag Frankie
all over each other like a rash.
He didn’t mind that so much as the sheer noise that came out of his
mother. She was loud. Always had been. It really got to him. It embarrassed him.
He lay on his bed, staring at the poster his mate Ronan had printed for him: CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME. Thinking.
Wishing he could see the effect of his actions. Somehow, not being able to be there, in
someone’s house when their precious little kiddie caught sight of those heaving
bodies, took the edge off it.
His mobile rang. He reached across to the bedside table and clicked the button.
‘Hi, Ronan!’
Without any preamble, Ronan got straight to the point. ‘Seen the local papers?’
‘Nah. I ain’t been out, have I.’
‘It’s about the porno videos and the shops we targeted. Police reckon it’s someone who’s against the
money from charity shops going abroad.’
‘Yeah, well they’re right.’
‘Reckon we ought to put them off the scent, mate?’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Target other charity shops. It’ll
confuse the filth.’
Callum chuckled deeply. ‘Yeah. Why not?
All them politically correct do-gooders. They’re half the trouble. It’s
what’s wrong with this country.’
‘So which charity shop we gonna do this time?’
Callum thought about this for a minute.
‘You still there, Cal?’
‘Yeah. It don’t really matter which one.
Cancer Research. Help the Aged.’
Ronan sniggered dirtily. ‘I’ve got just
the video, as well. Sex with
Animals. It’s so disgusting like you
wouldn’t believe.’
Callum laughed delightedly. ‘Wicked.’
‘You got any children’s films?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got the first Harry Potter film.’
‘That’s shit. And everyone will have
seen it. It’ll just hang about on the
shelves for ages. Haven’t you got
nothing more...’ Ronan struggled to say
what he meant.
‘How about Ice Age?’
‘Yeah. That should do. Shall I bring this video over then? Your sister in, is she?’
‘Nah. Bitch is out.’
‘I’ll come over then.’
‘Yeah. An’ there’s something else I
wanna talk to you about.
‘What?’
‘Letter bombs.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘It’s the next step in our campaign, Ronan. Letter bombs. Like that geezer on the news.’
IN EPISODE 139
Amy Dorling sees herself as another Miss Marples.