‘Where have you kids been?’ the female officer asked.
Georgia and Liza spoke in unison. ‘Over the playground.’
‘Not up top, by the brook?’
The girls both shook their heads.
‘We’ve had reports that some lads from the Grosvenor Estate got ambushed and beaten up. One of them’s ended up with a broken arm. You could get yourselves in serious trouble by lying to me, so I’m going to give you another chance. Are you sure you weren’t really up by the brook?’
James was relieved when all the girls shook their heads. ‘No, miss.’
‘Like I say, there’s been a serious incident. So I’m going to have to ask all of you for your names and addresses and we might be in touch later.’
Hannah was at the end of the line and she faithfully read her name and address to the policewoman. James was next.
‘James Robert Holmes. Flat sixteen, block six, Palm Hill estate.’
The policewoman smiled. ‘And your postcode?’
James fumbled. ‘E, something?’
The policewoman clearly thought she’d caught James out. ‘Don’t you know your own postcode? How long have you lived here?’
‘We just moved in this morning.’
‘Did you indeed,’ the policewoman said suspiciously.
‘It’s true,’ Max said. ‘He’s four doors down from me. I can vouch for him.’
But she didn’t sound convinced. ‘What’s your home phone number?’
‘We’re not hooked up yet,’ James said.
‘Well what about your parents? Do they have mobiles so that I can ring up and speak to one of them?’
‘My parents are both dead,’ James explained. ‘My older brother looks after me, but he’ll be out.’
‘So you moved in today to live with your brother, who just happens to be out,’ the policewoman said incredulously. ‘How old is this brother?’
‘He’s seventeen, technically I’m still in foster care, but I’m allowed to live with Dave …’
The policewoman clearly thought James’ story was bull. She moved her torch beam upwards and shone it in James’ face. It took a second for a look of revelation to blossom.
‘What’s that under your chin?’
‘Where?’ James asked.
James touched his chin with his index finger and felt the tip drag through something that could only be a drop of blood.
‘And how did that get there?’
James realised he was in trouble, but Hannah nailed down the coffin.
‘Miss, it’s not James’ fault,’ she yelled. ‘It wasn’t an ambush. They started on us.’
‘Yeah,’ Georgia added. ‘They were miles bigger than him.’
‘OK, one at a time,’ the policewoman shouted, hardly able to contain her grin. She looked over her shoulder at the other officer. ‘Michael, get James here in handcuffs and call another car, we’ll have to take all of this lot in for questioning.’
‘He’s a bit on the small side,’ Patel observed.
James was angry at getting himself caught. He should have remembered something as obvious as his postcode. And now he thought about it, Hannah had said hers thirty seconds earlier and it was probably identical.
‘Get over here,’ Patel said wearily, as he pulled a set of handcuffs off his belt. ‘And you’d better not start mouthing me. I’m not in the mood.’
James stepped forward and held out his wrists. Patel snapped on the cuffs and read James his rights in a monotone as they walked to a police car parked on the double yellow lines outside the gate.
‘You do not have to answer any questions, but anything you do say will be taken down and used in evidence …’
James had been arrested before and knew the words off by heart, but this particular reading had a surprise ending. As he ducked down to get in the back of the car, Patel grabbed James’ head and thumped it hard against the edge of the car roof.
James was seeing stars as he collapsed across the rear seat.
‘We’ll sort you out,’ Patel snarled, as he slammed the car door. ‘You’ve got no idea how sick I get of nicking dumb little brats like you.’
17. COPS
James woke up on a bare vinyl mattress and shuffled across to the cell toilet in his socked feet. While he peed, his fingers explored the small cut on the side of his head where Sergeant Patel had assaulted him.
After zipping up, James stepped over to the door of the graffiti-etched cell and rang the buzzer. It took a minute for the custody officer to open the flap.
‘Can you flush my toilet?’ James asked.
The beanpole officer, with stained teeth and scruffy red hair, was in a jovial mood. ‘Are you up for some breakfast, sonny?’