?I’d like you to pass a message on to Gina Grace for me.?

  He shook his bald head, his smile adapting itself to suit a small child, as he played with the gold signet ring on one of his interlocked fingers. ?I’m afraid that Miss Grace has no desire to have any contact with her past. I’m sure you understand.?

  Rob resisted the urge to thump the squashy face. ?Well, that may be so, but I need to discuss an urgent matter with her. Can’t you just call her and give her my phone number? I think she’s old enough to make the decision to speak to me or not all by herself.?

  Mr. Greenslade coughed quietly. ?Actually, Mr. Black, Miss Grace converses with me through a London solicitor. Any contact has to be made through him.?Rob’s smile grew. That made sense. This guy was actually the bottom of the food chain, and the blush running through his face said that he knew he’d been found out.

  Rob tried to keep his voice civil. ?So call him. Tell him to call her. It’s important that I speak to her. Tell her it’s about Teacher. She’ll understand.? Taking a piece of paper and a pen from the box of Post-its by the phone, he scribbled his number down, and handed it to Greenslade. ?Call him.?

  ?I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly do it now, I’m expecting a client. I’ll try this afternoon, but I wouldn’t expect a response. Miss Grace has always been very adamant on this subject.?

  His patience wearing thin, Rob stood up. ?Well, maybe you could give me his number. I can try him. Save you the time.?

  On the other side of the desk, Greenslade also stood, drawing himself up to his full rotund five-foot-something

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  height. Rob glowered down at him, knowing what he was about to say.

  ?I’m afraid I’m unable to give out that information. Like I said, I’ll try to contact them this afternoon.?Pulling up his cuffs, he examined his watch. ?Now I’m afraid I’m really going to have to ask you to leave. Time is marching on.?

  Rob was already pulling open the door and looking out into the empty reception area. ?Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Greenslade. Much appreciated.? He already closed the door behind him by the time the solicitor told him it had been a pleasure.

  Standing outside on the cobbles, under the watchful gaze of a bronze John Wesley, Rob swore aloud. Jesus, why did the world have to be full of so many pricks? Maybe he should have been more honest with the pompous arse. He could just imagine it.

  ?Hi, Mr. Fat Fuck Greenslade, I wonder if you can help me get in touch with Gina Grace. You see, people are dying in horrible ways and my computer’s talking to me and I think wherever she is, she’s doing it. Why do I think that? Oh, of course, you weren’t there, were you? You weren’t there when it all happened before. How silly of me.?

  Yeah, he could just imagine what the solicitor would have made of that little tirade. That would have gone down well. Jesus, what a mess. He wasn’t even sure he wanted Gina to get in touch, although he was pretty sure Greenslade would pass on the message. That was his job, after all. Message boy and maintenance man. Rob took a long, deep breath as he started his walk home. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Part of him was excited at the thought of Gina all grown up. Another part of him was apprehensive. Well, it was out of his hands now. He’d done his bit. From here on in, they’d just have to wait and see.

  Jason pressed Play on the CD system and waited for the mellow, chill-out album to seep into the room before

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  pouring himself a drink, sitting on the tatty brown and black sofa and rubbing his eyes with a weary hand. Even in daylight, the tiny flat retained a gloomy air. He put his glass on the side table and flicked the switch on the lamp, hoping it would help dispel those shadows in his mind as much as the ones in the corners of the room.

  Holy fuck, what a day. Every time he shut his eyes all he could see was that old man, curled up so pathetically in his goddamn underpants, covered in ant powder. His body had been cold, too fucking cold to want to touch, like old bread dough or something. And those awful, red open eyes. At least the ambulance guys had closed them before they’d taken the judge—had that really been the judge?—away. But they weren’t closed in his head. In his head he had a feeling that they’d be open forever.

  Leaning back in his seat, no energy left to keep himself upright, he stared idly around at the shithole he called home. Yeah, it was clean, he was pretty fastidious about that—hey, he’d been in that attic, he’d seen what rotten food could turn into—and he’d done his best to decorate within his limited means, but however hard he tried, it was always going to be a shitty little flat in Gallows Hill.

  Was this where he would have ended up, regardless of that summer? Had his dreams of better things been only that, wasted dreams? Probably. Carrie didn’t exactly make good on hers either. Maybe they’d always been meant to remain scum. Maybe that’s just what happened to people like them. He lit a cigarette and watched its smoke trails in the air before taking a long sip of his whiskey and water.

  Well, at least he’d had those dreams once, tenuous or not. Had they died with Philip Grace? No, not then. Philip Grace had just been a grownup, a person they passed sometimes on the way out Gina’s door, or as his car drove past them on the lane, they returning to their lives, he returning to his. No, his dreams were dead before Philip Grace. His dreams died when the magic went sour, two

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  long weeks or more before the summer ended with blood on the kitchen floor. His dreams had died with Teacher.

  Sighing, the pain as fresh as if it had happened yesterday, he pulled out his wallet and carefully took out the battered and faded photo. It shook in his hands as he stared. Philip Grace had taken it; he’d taken one for each of them. A picture of the four of them and Teacher, early in that summer when everything was good, before the scars that showed on his hands and hurt in his heart.

  His breath caught in his chest, as he sunk into the image, and despite the ache inside that made him want to put it right away again in the back of his wallet from where he never took it out, never looked at it, hiding the too-painful memory away, he blinked back the emotion and remembered.

  They’d been hanging out with Gina for maybe three weeks when Teacher arrived. During that time the three of them had decided Gina was pretty cool, even if she was a bit unreadable and aloof. She’d changed them too, or maybe it was just time that had changed them, setting their hormones racing, growing them up against their will. Carrie had turned into something of a wanna-be girl and they didn’t seem to get so dirty anymore, probably because Gina never wanted to climb trees or have play fights or stuff like that, and because she didn’t, neither did Carrie, and so neither did he or Rob, because they didn’t exactly want her to see them as a pair of kids. Nope, if Gina didn’t want to do it, whatever it was, then it just didn’t happen. And nobody minded.

  But then, Gina was beautiful and clever, probably cleverer even than Rob and that was saying something. More than that, she was special. After the thing with the glass, they hadn’t been able to stay away.

  Yeah, magic like that had lured them back, and it wasn’t just the glass. As the weeks passed, other weird shit happened, and they had the feeling that whatever

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  power Gina had, it was beginning to rub off on them. Like the time Jason had been sliding helplessly down the muddy bank to the pond, his foot tangled up with aggressive weeds, his body tumbling forward to the murky water, all balance lost, and then suddenly he was free, his feet resting on a newly dry patch of ground, the weeds dead and shriveled up, lying harmlessly by his sneakers.

  And then there was the hot sunny afternoon that Rob wound Carrie up about some boy at school to the point when her fiery temper was boiling over and she was cursing loudly at him to shut up. He didn’t, of course, and she went to smack him hard in the mouth, her hand too quick for him even to think about ducking away. Carrie never missed a shot like that, tomboy that she was she’d had plenty of practice, but she just couldn’t connect, her arm changing direction at the last minute, sending her reeling around in a circle, her face a picture of dumbfounded confusion. She tried again and the same thing happened, by which time they were all laughing so hard, that her anger had evaporated into tears of mirth.

  It seemed there’d been a lot of laughter in the early days of that long summer. Easy smiles stretched out in the warm grass, the sun on their backs. They never went to Rob’s place anymore apart from maybe to pick up a record or a football or something while the girls were at the library; it just didn’t have the same comforting feeling that whiling away the time at Syracousse did. In fact, they never really went anywhere else, the rest of the world had faded to a pale shimmer, and even if they’d planned to go to the Rec or to the river, it never seemed to happen. They’d find themselves heading down that dusty track to the small side gate by the tree as if they were drawn there, and maybe they were. They felt happy within the walled confines of the house and even Rob, after all the shit that had happened in the attic, seemed to find peace and the tattered remnants of his childhood at Syracousse.

  One afternoon, they’d been up at the top of the house

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  in Gina’s bedroom listening to the new Bay City Rollers album, the girls lounging on her double bed, he and Rob leaning up against the long walls of the room that was bigger than his mum’s lounge up at Gallows Hill, when Mr. Grace got home. His deep voice calling Gina’s name drifted up the elegant stairway. He was early. Normally he would just pass the three of them on their way out the door saying farewell with a smile and a nod, and that was only on the occasions that they didn’t use the side gate in the garden. And they never usually left until about seven, just before Mrs. Grace got dinner out of the oven in perfect timing with her husband’s arrival home from London, so something had to be up for him to be back before five.

  Turning the record player off, Gina opened the door and ran down the stairs, leaving them to follow her, unsure of what else to do. It wouldn’t be polite to stay in her room without her, and anyway, Philip Grace sounded pretty excited about something and Jason knew that the others were just as keen as he was to find out why. With a quick glance of agreement, they shut the door behind them and ran. Catching up with Gina at the bottom of the stairs, they stared at the tall, handsome figure holding a large cardboard box, which seemed to wobble in his arms; whatever was inside shifting from end to end. Gina was clapping her hands excitedly. ?Is it a kitten, Daddy? Have you gotten me a kitten??Her voice was almost a squeal, and Jason realized he’d never seen her so unreserved, so childlike.

  Her father smiled, enjoying her reaction. ?Well, let’s all go into the kitchen and see, shall we??Walking just behind them, Jason felt his heart pounding. What was it? What had he brought home?

  Placing the box carefully on the kitchen table, Philip ignored the glare that flashed from his wife, and slowly lifted the flaps. Reaching in, he pulled out a tiny golden ball of fur, long ears flopping over the deep brown eyes, a tiny pink tongue hanging from its mouth, as the bundle of

  163 paws and tail let out a small squeak that might one day be a bark. ?So what do you think? You’ll have to be careful with him, he’s only about six weeks old.?

  The light in Gina’s eyes faded a little, and the disappointment was clear in her voice. ?I thought it was going to be a kitten.?

  Camilla, leaning her elegant frame against the counter let out a long, tired sigh. ?You should have talked to me about this first, Philip.?

  Still holding the small animal, Mr. Grace looked from his daughter to his wife, mild hurt and annoyance in his face. ?But I wanted it to be a surprise. Most children would give their right arm for a puppy, isn’t that right boys??Jason couldn’t take his eyes off the small animal, but he nodded slowly. A puppy. It was all he’d ever wanted, but there was no chance in hell he’d ever get one from his mother. Philip Grace had brought home a puppy. He could see Rob beaming from the corner of his eye. Yeah, Rob obviously thought it was pretty cool too, but nothing like he did. Taking a hesitant step forward, he reached out and stroked the cotton wool fur, feeling the warm breath on his hand. Philip Grace lowered the dog to the floor and Jason bent down with him, fussing the tiny creature, almost oblivious to the heated conversation above him.

  Camilla’s voice was sharp. ?That doesn’t change the fact that you should have talked to me about it. We agreed on a kitten. That is what she wanted after all. But you had to go and get a dog. I hope to hell it’s housetrained.?

  ?Of course it’s not bloody housetrained, it’s six weeks old. Anyway, it can spend most of the day in the garden while the weather’s good. I don’t see what your problem is.?

  The harsh sounds were making the little dog nervous and Jason softly soothed it. He loved the dog from that moment, watching it sitting there unsure on the kitchen floor, the floor that would soon be covered with its owner’s blood, unsure and wanting only to be loved. The row raged above them in soft controlled voices leaking bitterness.

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  ?They’re so damned messy! It’s going to be dragging in dirt from the garden all day and I’m going to end up spending my life mopping up after it. We agreed on a cat, Philip. I don’t even like dogs, but of course you didn’t take that into consideration, did you? And judging by Gina’s face, I don’t think she’s particularly keen either. Why couldn’t you just think about somebody else for a change??

  Jason could see Carrie’s feet shuffling awkwardly in the tense atmosphere, and he scooped the puppy up in his arms. ?Shall we take him outside, Mr. Grace??

  The man nodded, his eyes fixed angrily on his wife. Rob had swiftly opened the back door and stepped outside with Carrie, Gina close behind them. None of them were used to any kind of disharmony here and wanted to get away from it quickly, so they could pretend the argument had never happened. Jason paused in the doorway. ?Don’t worry, Mrs. Grace. I’ll housetrain him. I’ll try to make sure he doesn’t bring any mud into your kitchen either.?

  Her beautiful face gave him a wan smile. ?Thank you, Jason. That’s very kind. Now run along outside, I’ll bring you some drinks out soon.?Jason nodded, and then stepped into the warm breeze.

  Joining the others on the rug, happy to be away from the awful tension inside, he put the puppy down. Carrie and Rob laughed and fussed him with Jason, the dog slowly relaxing and starting to play, nipping them with tiny sharp hot teeth. Gina petted it a little, but wouldn’t let it clamber on her, not wanting to get puppy drool on her dress.

  Gently pushing the excited face away from where it was trying to chew his ear, Jason smiled at Gina. ?What do you want to call him??

  The pretty girl shrugged. ?I don’t know. You decide.?

  Carrie was giggling as paws scrabbled at her back to reach her hair. ?I think we should call him Teacher.?

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  Rob snorted. ?What kind of a name is that for a dog? We can’t call him that, it’s stupid!?

  ?I like it. I think it’s pretty cool.?Jason was rubbing the small round upturned belly and his words were soft. ?I think he deserves an unusual name.?

  Tucking her thick hair behind her ear, Gina raised an eyebrow. ?Okay. We’ll call him Teacher.?The little puppy yapped, almost in approval, and even Gina laughed.

  Over the next few weeks, Gina and her mother got used to having Teacher around, but they never really took to him as the others did, and even Rob and Carrie, who loved the little dog as if it were their own, didn’t love him as much as Jason. Nobody could. Even Philip Grace, whose life barely touched those of the visiting children, grudgingly admitted that if the daft ball of fur belonged to anyone, that person was Jason. The dog loved him as much as he loved it. But then, it was Jason who spent every possible moment there playing with him, trying to housetrain him so Camilla Grace wouldn’t hit Teacher with a broom, and on those occasions when he had an over-excited accident, it would be Jason who quickly cleaned it up so that no one would notice.

  As Teacher got bigger and clumsier, his fur losing its baby coat, growing instead in long waves of silky gold, Jason loved him more and more. He would get out of bed an hour early on school days so he could take the dog down to the river, as neither Gina nor her mother had shown any interest in taking him for a walk, and Philip Grace had to leave early to get to work. Sometimes Rob would get his lazy arse out of bed and join them, but mainly it was just him and Teach, and although he’d never tell Rob, that was the way he liked it best. Just the two of them and the smell of fresh warm summer’s air, the smell that only, the very beginning of a day can have, untainted by events, new to the world.

  When they got back to the house, Jason would carefully

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  rub Teacher down with a towel, making sure he was dried off from any dips in the river, and then saying good-bye to him in the garden, he’d leave through the side gate and head off to pick up Rob on the way to school. Sometimes, he wouldn’t see Gina at all during those morning visits, and although he still thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and was completely in love with her in an awestruck kind of way, he was sad that she didn’t love Teacher like he did. And the bigger he got, the more Teacher seemed to annoy her. She couldn’t stand it when he jumped up at her, or shook his glorious wet, musty fur, splashing her, and Jason wondered how much of that came from Mrs. Grace.

  Although the woman was never cruel to the dog, Jason knew she didn’t particularly like him, and she’d even asked him once if he’d like to take Teacher home and keep him. Oh, that had hurt his heart. There was nothing in the world Jason would have liked more, but there was no way his mother would allow it. Sometimes, he would lie awake in his tiny shoebox bedroom and hug his pillow to him imagining that it was thick, warm fur he was burying his face into. The thought would help him sleep over the sound of his mother and whoever was in the room next door.