Trilogy Collection. Julie Shaw

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ went out into the hall then and returned with the suitcase, which was brown and battered. June had never seen it before.

      ‘Where’d you get that?’ she asked him. ‘They give ’em out at borstal now, do they?’

      Vinnie placed the suitcase down on the sofa and shook his head. ‘One of the screws gave it me,’ he said. ‘Said he didn’t need it any more. So I had something to put my stuff in …’ He opened up the lid.

      There were two packages inside, all carefully wrapped in brown paper, and nestled between his few bits of clothing. He lifted one out and passed it to her. ‘Careful, mind,’ he said. ‘It’s delicate.’

      June immediately felt bad for feeling cross with him. He might not have written but she obviously had been in his thoughts, after all. She placed the package on her knees and opened it carefully, as directed, peeling back the layers of paper, wanting to savour it, having absolutely no idea what it might be.

      ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have, Vin,’ she said. ‘It’s not even like you’ve got any money. Oh, Vin, you shouldn’t have!’ she said again, unwrapping the final layer to reveal a china shire horse. And a big one too – almost a foot high, it was, complete with yoke and saddle and even little leather reins. ‘Oh, Vin!’ she said, pulling it free and holding it up so she could properly inspect it. ‘It’s beautiful.’

      ‘Isn’t it?’ he agreed. ‘But give it here a minute, cos there’s more.’

      ‘More?’ June looked up at him wide-eyed as he took it from her and placed it on the floor.

      ‘Yes, to go with it. Here,’ he said, passing her another carefully wrapped parcel. ‘Now this one’s really delicate, so just be careful opening it, okay?’

      June held the parcel on her lap like it was the Crown Jewels. She didn’t know what it was but it couldn’t have been more precious. She could feel tears pricking in her eyes and if she’d been their Mo looking at her, she’d have given her a slap and told her not to be so daft.

      But how could you not? She thought, turning back the paper, how could you not, when … ‘Oh, Vin!’ she gasped, seeing what now sat on her lap. ‘Oh, Vin, this is amazing – it’s fucking gorgeous!’

      It was, too. By anyone’s standards. It was a gypsy caravan, just the right size to sit behind the shire horse, made out of what looked like, no, definitely were, matchsticks. The detail was amazing, right down to the tiny curtains that hung in both the windows and the matching seat pads for the tiny table and chairs inside. It was all finished off with a gleaming golden varnish and a tasselled trim running around the arched entrance. It was the nicest thing she had ever seen or owned in her whole life and if a tear slipped down her cheek she no longer cared.

      She stood up carefully and took it to the window-sill, clearing a space for it, then fetched the horse to hitch up to the front.

      Vinnie looked on all the while. He didn’t say anything but she could see just how proud he was. As he should be, she thought. He was so clever with his hands.

      ‘I’m going to leave that right there,’ she said turning to hug him. He let her. ‘So all the neighbours can see it and see how talented you are.’

      She sniffed and Vinnie laughed. ‘Mam, if you look around you’ll see plenty of them, honest. And the shire horses. Everyone makes the gypsy caravans in borstal and the shops in the town sell the horses to go with them. It’s a right racket.’

      ‘A racket?’

      ‘Well, not that kind of racket. But I didn’t just make mine. I made a few of them, actually. Some other things as well. You know, for the other lads, like, so they could take them home to their mams. Kept me in chocs and baccy, that did. And it passed the time.’

      ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ June said, clearing the rest of the clutter so her present could be properly centre-stage. ‘I’ve never seen one. Not round here, anyway. Oh, Vin,’ she said, moving the net aside and hooking it round one of the handles. ‘It’s just lovely.’

      ‘Well, I’m glad you like it, Mam. Cost me a fortune in matches, that did! Anyway, I’d better get on. Like I said –’

      ‘Things to do, people to see. You already told me. Oh, Vin, can’t you stop at home just for one bleeding night? And what about little Robbie?’

      He re-clasped the suitcase clips and lifted it off the sofa. ‘Tell our Titch to nip up and tell him I’ll try to stop by and see him later. Right now I’m off to unpack, okay?’

      He crossed the room then and patted her shoulder. He really had grown. ‘Mam, calm down,’ he said. ‘I’m home now, aren’t I? And I’m stopping home. For good. Which means I’ll be here the next day and the next day and the next day. I’m not going anywhere, okay?’

      June crossed her fingers behind her back when he said that, hoping against hope that would turn out to be true, and that the stirring of anxiety in her stomach was just indigestion.

      She’d take some Milk of Magnesia, she decided. That should sort it.

       Chapter 16

      Vinnie’s room hadn’t changed. Not one bit. It was exactly the same as when he’d left it three years earlier, as if locked in a time warp, or sealed up because the contents were radioactive.

      The door creaked as he opened it wider and stepped in. Literally nothing seemed to be different. Not a clean lick of paint, no different blanket top, nothing. Even his old drawers were still drooping out of their casings just the same the day he’d gathered his few things from them and filled the bag he was to take to approved school.

      He sighed as he ran a finger along the dust that had gathered on his beloved bookcase and wondered, not for the first time, if all mothers were as lacking as June when it came to making an effort. He felt strangely disgruntled at the prospect of living again amid so much mess and squalor. Whatever else Redditch had been, it had been clean. But at least all his books were still there. He checked the titles that he’d left behind – a few Agatha Christie novels, a book about James Dean and his second favourite book, Nicholas Nickleby. He’d loved that one, because Nicholas was a bit like him really. Yes, his own dad was still alive and kicking, whereas Nicholas’s wasn’t, but Vinnie still felt it was him who had to look out for his mam and sister, and he certainly had an uncle who never thought he’d amount to anything. Actually, scrub that – he had two or three of them.

      He touched the spine. He’d left that one for Josie to read while he was gone and she must have put it back again, bless her.

      ‘Que sera, sera,’ he said out loud, flinging the case onto the bed. It was now a bit lighter – and, without his mam’s gifts, a lot less fragile – but it still caused a mushroom-cloud of dust.

      There wasn’t much in the case bar his books and his clothes, but at least the latter were clean. Putting the novels to one side, he pulled out a T-shirt and some jeans from the few items of clothing he possessed. He changed into them quickly, feeling the chill on his bare skin. Even though it was only September, it was an unwelcome reminder of things to come. There would be no more warm pad to return to on winter evenings; he was back to a СКАЧАТЬ