Kill Who You Want

Chapter Seven

Plot reminder: Nathan Edwardson, who features in the second part of this chapter, was introduced earlier in the novel. A classmate of Inspector Kubic's son Danny, Edwardson is socially isolated and suffers from severe learning difficulties. In an earlier chapter readers were introcuced to the character of Jenny Kershaw, Kubič's ex-wife, as she brushed snow from her drive.

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The snowballs flew thick and fast around the playground of Ravensby Comprehensive at final bell that afternoon. Amidst the icy madness Danny Kubič would count amongst his victims Harry Knott, Nathan Edwardson, some goofy kid in Year 8, Sophie Markham (twice), Mr Rosedale the supply teacher, Deepak Chowdhury and Kayleigh Rogers - this final strike earning him a moment of much hoped-for physical contact, even if only in the form of a retaliatory and bruise-inducing thump on the arm. Satisfied with his tally - and by then in any case a little out of breath - he turned finally towards the gate, beyond which he was  surprised to see the shivering, foot-stamping figure of his father waiting for him.

"Hey there Danny."

"Hi." His was the sullen monosyllabic embarrassment with which his friends, milling out of the gate around him, would have greeted one of their own parents guilty of the same crime. Being accompanied home was humiliating enough even in Year 7; by Year 10 it was nothing short of public ignominy.

"All this snow, thought you might appreciate a lift."

By way of reply, Danny settled for a non-commital shrug.

His father had already turned though, was halfway across the toffee-coloured churn of sludge which covered the road, his outstretched hand beeping unlocked the Audi.

"Want some liquorice?"

"Makes your tongue black."

"I know. Tastes good though."

Until they were round the corner, Danny cowered down as far as he could in the passenger seat. He wanted as few people as possible to be aware of the sorry scene that was taking place.

"Your teacher says you could try harder."

But no, thought Danny. This wasn't what this was all about. His father couldn't have given two hoots about how he was doing at school. He always said it was just government-sponsored childcare, that the only teacher anyone ever needed was life itself. This was just one of the many subjects on which Dave and his father stood at polar opposites. If he didn't go on to university, his stepfather would probably quite literally piss his pants or something.

"The one who teaches you English. What's her name?"

"Miss Booth."

"Miss Booth, yes."

"The bitch."

This bought a stern sideways glare. "Shouldn't use that word Danny." Then, a moment later, there was the brief flicker of a smirk: "But yea, kind of got that impression myself."

Danny couldn't help but love his father sometimes. Dull-as-ditchwater Dave would never have come out with something like that.

His father grew silent then. Hands on the wheel, chewing his liquorice. Building up to it, whatever it was. Something serious, for sure. One of those heavy father-to-son speeches Danny was periodically forced to endure. Like that time in second year juniors for instance when his father had explained how he wouldn't be living with them any more, mum and he, but how he still loved them both very much. Or that other time, the last year of primary school, when he apologised for the mistake he'd made, promised that something like that would never happen again. He'd meant it so much that tears had welled in his eyes...