fucked up. Flailing around trying to work out whether we’ve blown it or not.”
“He won’t wait, Rick. I could see it in his eyes. Maybe if he had ten years… maybe if he could just hang on and see…” I closed my eyes. “Why can’t he wait, Rick? Why now, why so breakneck? What’s so important that it has to be right now?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes fixed on Samson in the distance.
“I think it’s time I told you about Carl,” he said.
I dropped to my ass on the wood-chippings and so did Rick. I crossed my legs and my stomach tightened in anticipation.
“I grew up lucky, really fucking lucky,” he started. “I always knew it, but it took me meeting a guy like Carl to realise just how good I had it as a kid. I had everything, everything that mattered. And Carl, poor fucking guy, he had nothing.”
“He mentioned a hostel, when we were in Brighton…”
Rick’s eyes met mine and they were so sad. “Children’s home. Shithole from what I gather. A whole lot of kids needing love, not enough people to love them. Not enough people to take care of them, even.”
“What about his parents?”
Rick shook his head. “His mum died when he was really young. Bit of a party goer, so he says, but it’s all hearsay really, bits of memories, scattered information from people who didn’t really know. They found her in a pool, face down and in nothing but her knickers. Accidental death officially. I don’t know much more than that. Carl was only six at the time. They found him in filthy clothes at one of her loser mate’s flats.”
My stomach lurched. “Shit.”
“He doesn’t talk about it much.”
“And then what? What happened to him?”
He sighed. “A load of shit. Life in care, like loads of other kids. Not enough attention, not enough love. They didn’t manage to find his dad, so they said. Only then this loser rocks up when Carl’s about thirteen years old. Says he hasn’t got space or money to have Carl come live with him, but he loves him, misses him, thinks about him all the time, yada fucking yada.”
“He wasn’t genuine?”
Rick shook his head, and his face was stony. “He was a fucking asshole. Used to get Carl to do favours for him. Piece of fucking crap.”
“Favours?” I felt sick inside, but Rick shook his head.
“Nothing like that, not that I know, but I wouldn’t swear on it. Drugs. Hold onto this for me, Carl, it’s a present for a friend. Don’t tell anyone, I want it to be a surprise. I’m working on a place for us, Carl, me and you, won’t be long now.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. Of course Carl did whatever the asshole wanted. He was a teenage lad hoping someone actually gave a shit, you know? Thought he could be something to somebody, finally. Makes me so fucking angry.”
“What happened?”
Rick tipped his head back, squinted at the sun. “A carer found one of the parcels hidden behind a skirting board by Carl’s bunk. Along came the police, social workers, a million questions. Bye bye, Dad.”
“His dad went to prison?” My heart was in my throat.
“Part of a bigger investigation, I think. Yeah, he went down for it, good fucking riddance. Carl ate himself up with guilt, sent letters, never heard back. Not a fucking thing. Never has. I mean what kind of cunt even does that to their own kid? Sets them up and then just fucking bails? Doesn’t even fucking reply?” Rick shook his head. “Poor kid went off the rails. Started vandalising shit, fighting, stealing. He says it was like he was filled with this… tar, all black and thick, just this… rottenness. Says he felt like he was worth nothing, didn’t deserve anything, didn’t even want anything. Ended up in juvenile detention, then back in care. A problem kid.” He paused, picked at the woodchips. “It’s not really my place to tell you this shit, but I think you should know. So you understand.”
My eyes felt sore and full of tears. Too much, all at once. Jack’s yard, and baby talk, and Carl. Mainly Carl.
“Shit,” Rick said. “I know this is fucked up, I know it’s sad, believe me, it breaks my fucking heart, but please, whatever you do, please don’t look at him like that.”
“Like what?” I asked, and my voice was crackly.
“Like you’re looking at me, now. Like you pity him, like you feel sorry for him. He’d hate