CHERUB: Brigands M.C. - Robert Muchamore Page 0,101
gasp followed by plenty of pushing and shoving.
‘I think everyone who doesn’t know Joe should show some class and leave,’ Lauren suggested.
All Joe’s friends agreed, as did some of the older crew who justified themselves by saying things like It’s a kiddies’ party anyway, but were actually shit scared of the Führer.
The majority started heading out of the lounge, but as Lauren and Joe gave each other relieved smiles a kid in a Man United shirt stuck a pool cue through another window.
‘This is bullshit, man,’ he yelled.
‘Dickhead,’ Joe shouted, and charged into the older kids. But one good punch and some alcohol-fuelled bravado hadn’t turned him into a fighting champion. The sixth former in the Man United shirt clamped Joe’s head under his arm and punched him hard in the eye.
As Lauren waded in to save her boyfriend, a whole bunch of Joe’s mates charged towards the older kids. Most didn’t want trouble, but a hard core of five lads stood their ground and traded punches with eight younger boys plus Lauren.
Dante overbalanced as he dragged the toughest looking kid away from a skinny Year Eight and ended up stumbling forward and slamming a window sash down on the tough kid’s head.
Lauren freed Joe from the kid in the Man United shirt, but she was drunk and hopelessly mistimed a Karate kick. She landed up on her arse, but her opponent was all mouth and she launched a savage upwards kick as he tried to punch Joe.
Of the five older kids who’d stayed to fight, Lauren and Dante had nailed one each, two had been knocked to the ground and were getting worked over by all Joe’s mates. The last kid stood up on the pool table. Small and squat, with tangled black hair, he swished a cue back and forth and yelled, ‘Come and have a go then ya cocky little bastards!’
Lauren and Dante made eye contact and moved in together. As Lauren snatched the swinging cue, Dante jumped on to the end of the pool table and brought him down with a rugby tackle. His chin thumped the corner pocket before Lauren grabbed his neck and dragged him away.
‘All right, son,’ she said cheerfully as she gave the lad a gentle slap on the cheek. ‘Time to go home to mommykins.’
As Lauren escorted the grunting boy towards the door, Dante realised that the two down on the ground were getting serious beats and told the others to back off. Once the fighting stopped some of the older group came back into the lounge to extract the injured.
The cue swinger swore at Lauren as she threw him down on the front porch. There were a few kids squatting nearby, including a girl being sick and a boy with a bloody face. Most of the older kids were heading towards the road, though a few took revenge by ripping up plants and shrubs and one shouted that the Führer was a Nazi tosser as he ripped up the Eagles’ Nest sign and lobbed it over a hedge.
Lauren checked that there were no more older kids upstairs before turning off the music and telling the girls to come inside and lock the French doors until the older kids were gone. Everyone gravitated towards the kitchen and Joe sat on a stool, clutching his eye and trying not to sob.
A whole bunch of girls gathered around and offered sympathy. Lauren was out of breath after grappling with two older kids and she located her unopened wine spritzer.
‘Maybe we should all tidy up a bit,’ Dante suggested.
A couple of the girls started picking up empty cans and bottles, while Dante found a dustpan and brush to pick up the broken glass in the back lounge. As he walked along the hallway he saw a police car rolling up the drive.
*
When the Brixton Riots docked back at Kingswear, Paul Woodhead drove his van up to the dockside and the four-man crew took ten minutes to transfer the boxed guns and ammunition into the rear compartment.
The surveillance team didn’t have the resources to follow everyone, so they prioritised. They couldn’t lose track of the weapons, so McEwen and Neil Gauche took the BMW and surveillance van respectively and stayed a kilometre behind the tracking signal from Paul Woodhead’s van. Chloe stayed behind in Kingswear, monitoring Riggs as he moved from the shore to the village pub and listening to the conversation inside Julian’s car.
‘My arms feel like they’ve been stretched on a rack,’ Julian