in the sink. The worst of the smell came from an oven dish with a pizza welded to it. It would have been the boys’ lunch if Junior had been sober enough to strip off the polystyrene base before putting it in the oven.
Julie headed out of the kitchen and yelled again as she ran up the stairs. Junior’s bedroom door was open. Radiohead pounded at full blast and marijuana smoke curled into the corridor. The music was so loud that James and Bruce didn’t hear her storming up the stairs.
‘Who the hell are you two?’ Julie screamed, as she grabbed the remote for Junior’s hi-fi and turned off the music.
James had downed three beers and felt light-headed. ‘Hey Mrs Moore,’ he said, smiling dopily. ‘Long time no see.’
‘Yo,’ Bruce giggled as he rolled off the bed. ‘Junior never told us that his mum was so fit.’
‘I’ll give you fit in a minute,’ Julie growled. ‘Where’s my son?’
James pointed drunkenly towards the en-suite bathroom. ‘Shitting,’ he explained.
‘Junior, get the hell out of there,’ Julie shouted, as she stepped over dirty clothes, dirty books and beer cans before opening the window as wide as it would go. ‘What have I told you about smoking in the new house?’
It was a couple of minutes before Junior emerged, looking completely out of it with his hair tangled and his T-shirt on back to front.
‘Hello, Mum,’ Junior said, trying to sound sensible. ‘How was your charity lunch thingy?’
‘Whatthebloodyhellisthis?’ Julie squealed, as she grabbed her son by his shoulder and cracked him around the back of the head.
‘Oww,’ Junior moaned. ‘Mind your rings.’
‘How was the parole office?’ she demanded.
‘Cool,’ Junior said, pointing at James. ‘Remember James from before Dad got busted? He was there too.’
‘Do you really think I care about that, Junior? You’ve ruined that oven dish. The whole house stinks and you clearly haven’t been to school.’
‘I couldn’t go to school,’ Junior slurred. ‘I met James. It was like … like historical or something.’
‘Going to school is a condition of your release. Do you want to get locked up again?’
‘Might as well,’ Junior grinned. ‘At least I wouldn’t be getting all this earache off you.’
Julie cracked her son around the head again before turning towards James and Bruce. ‘And I don’t know what gutter he dragged you in from, but I want you out.’
James and Bruce stumbled up and started looking around for their coats.
‘I’ll see you tonight at the football club,’ Junior mumbled. ‘You can meet some of my muckers.’
‘What about your curfew?’ Julie interrupted. ‘You might be too big for me to stop you getting out of the house, Junior, but I can call the parole office.’
‘Play a different record, Mum. That one’s so boring …’
‘Don’t you think I’m bluffing. I’ll ring that parole office and tell them everything.’
But Junior shook his head, knowing that his mum would never grass him up. ‘I’m fifteen years old,’ he shouted. ‘Get out of my face, you dumb bitch.’
James was shocked. If he’d called his mum a bitch when she was alive she’d have bounced him off every wall in the house.
‘Oh that’s nice,’ Julie said, looking hurt. ‘I’m the one who feeds you and puts clothes on your back. I’m the one who bails you out. The one who visits you in prison and—’
‘Yeah you work so hard,’ Junior sneered. ‘You haven’t had a job since you married Dad twenty years ago.’
‘I’ve raised four kids,’ Julie screamed, close to tears. ‘Three of ’em are just fine, so how’s it my fault that your life’s messed up?’
James was embarrassed and he pointed a thumb towards the door. ‘We’ll be going then.’
Julie continued yelling at her son as James and Bruce headed down the stairs.
‘Did you see the way Junior was smoking that joint?’ Bruce whispered.
James nodded. ‘Just breathing the smoke was making my eyes water, but he was sucking it down like lemonade.’
‘Seems like a nice guy though.’
‘Yeah,’ James nodded. ‘I really got on with him last time and he was always a bit crazy, but now he’s gone completely off the rails …’
24. TALENT
‘I play sometimes,’ Junior explained as he led James and Bruce along a damp path towards a floodlit football pitch. ‘But to be honest, I’m a bit out of shape.’
It was seven at night and James had sobered up, but the beers had left him with a headache.
‘I’m not surprised you’re out of shape,’ James grinned. ‘The amount you smoked and drank today, it’s a miracle you can walk.’
‘These are