A Dish Best Served Cold by Stephen Knight

A Dish Best Served Cold

Stephen Knight

A Dish Best Served Cold

About the Book

Stephen Bishop has had to grow up from a young age. Throughout his life he finds it hard to socialise with those around him, finding himself at the wrong end of ridicule from others. His Mother often compares him with his dead brother, whom she misses.

Battling with his sexuality at the age of 14, he gets outed by a family member and enters into a downward spiral of revenge on anyone that stands in his way, plotting sometimes intellectual premeditated attacks on his victims.

One Detective is putting two and two together and realising there is a common denominator in the spate of crime committed by Stephen Bishop. Now all Detective Inspector Cooper has to do is catch him.

The Ocean City of Plymouth, UK has never been the same.

A Dish Best Served Cold

About the Author

This is the first book from Stephen Knight who lives in Plymouth, UK and has done for most of his life. He is a professional musician and singer/songwriter, playing percussion from the age of ten and then keyboards and guitar.

Dedicated to ….

My Son Gareth, who has been through a lot in his young life and believes in me as much as I believe in him.

A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 1

Life. Your life. Your world. Someone once described life as, ‘When you have heard the sound of horse’s hooves, but all you get are Zebras’. You grow up as a young child just seeing life from the view of a child, innocent, exciting. You think your pretence is the real world. You can park those toy cars in the toy garage without charge. Teddy will save you from the bad things in the darkness. Your parents warn you not to talk to strangers, play with fire as it will burn you, wear your coat otherwise you will always get cold and respect your elders. Life. Stephen’s life, and his world, changed when he was three years old. He had a good family, Mum, Dad, Brother David, Sisters Vicky, and Rachel as well as a wealth of close Aunties and Uncles. Over the next few years, his world would fall apart. He was talking to strangers, playing with fire, forgetting that coat and did not care about anyone younger or older. Life had destroyed his world.

A Dish Best Served Cold

Now people handle life in different ways. Some can shrug off their problems with a shrug of the shoulders. Their problems almost seem surreal to them, as though they had crashed the car, but no one was seriously injured. You can always buy another car, but you cannot buy another life, and that is the way they look at it. Not a stressful thought in their minds. Some people plough themselves into their jobs, career minded, and blank out the everyday life problems, as though they are living in another world. Humans look at these types of people and wish for the same life trait, but it never comes to them. Life has not chosen them for that easy life they so yearn. Life is what you make it, they say. No, life is shaped for you. Do your parents have good jobs, money, their own house, a good car, lots of friends that they do not find it hard to socialise with, family that they can rely on, and generally an easy going home life? You could have all these things, but life can change that for you with one bad turn. You could lose your job, lose your house, crash the car, have no friends, family could disown you and your home life could be full of arguments. Life can change, and often does. It did for Stephen in 1969.

There was a painful screaming sound coming from the direction of the bottom of the stairs. Stephen was three years old coming up for four. His mother had told him not to play on the stairs, but the temptation was always there because his toy box was in the alcove under the stairs, full of his toy cars. He loved his toy cars, and his garage that his brother David had bought him for Christmas. David had a newspaper delivery job at the

A Dish Best Served Cold age of fourteen with the local newsagent and had saved some of the money from that each week with the Christmas Club in order that he could buy his little brother a nice present. Katie picked the toddler up and tried to calm his crying. “What have you done, baby?” She asked as the youngster pointed to his knee, then his arm, then his head. “It hurts in all those places, does it?” She looked at all three, just in case, but noticed there was no actual damage. “I don’t know. What are we going to do with you?” “Biscuit.” “Ah, yes. A biscuit always makes it better,” she replied, heading towards the kitchen cupboard. Stephen indicated that he wanted to get down as soon as he had the treat, and he ran off in the direction of his cars as his mother lowered him. “Don’t get too many cars out,” she shouted. “It’s bedtime soon!” “Noooooooo!” Katie always knew that this answer was coming. Stephen was an ‘awake until you drop’ toddler, and she had often found him asleep by his toybox, or in the dog basket with the dog. But she would put him to bed and have a rest from her daily routine. Husband Michael was down at the Labour Club playing dominoes, the girls were out with their boyfriends and David was at work; he now had a part time evening job at Bush Radio in Ernesettle. ‘Yes,’ she thought to herself. ‘Coffee, feet up, and Corrie!’ Suddenly she was startled by a knocking on the front door. Who could that be? she thought. She was not expecting anyone. Bloody neighbours again. She opened the door to find two Police Officers stood on the doorstep.

A Dish Best Served Cold

“Mrs Bishop?” asked the Officer with three stripes on his lapels. “Yes, that’s right,” she replied with an inquisitive frown on her face. The two officers did not wait for an invite but stepped inside. “Do you have a son, David?” continued the Sergeant. “Yes,” said Katie, nodding. “Oh no! Please, no!” She leaned her back against the wall and started to think the worst. Why else would two officers turn up at her doorstep? “David was involved in an accident on Tamar Way earlier, Mrs Bishop. He is at Freedom Fields Hospital accident and emergency department right now.” Katie removed her hands from her mouth and nose. “Was it a bad accident?” “From what we can make out your son is in a bad way. But we will let the Doctor’s tell you. We can take you there if you would like to get your coat.” He looked at Stephen. “Have you got anyone that could look after the boy?” Katie paused, as though she was not hearing anybody, but only her own thoughts. “What?” She looked up. “The boy?” “Yes,” she said. “My daughter is over at number 24 at her boyfriends.” Sergeant Mercer nodded to the Constable who disappeared back out the front door to fetch Rachel, Katie’s daughter. “What about your husband, Mrs Bishop. Is he in?”

A Dish Best Served Cold

Katie was already putting her coat on, a big thick heavy sheep wool coat. She felt the cold. She often joked with Stephen that he had taken all her blood when he was born and that is why she was always cold, although he did not understand. “No, he’s down at the Labour Club.” “That’s ok. We will get another Police Car to go and pick him up.” The Sergeant noticed PC Barlow coming across the road closely followed by Rachel, Stephen’s sister. Concerned, Rachel went right into her mother’s open arms. “Mum, what has happened?” “All I know is David has been in an accident,” Katie replied with some concern in her strained voice. “I’m going up the hospital now. I need you to take care of little one.” Rachel started to walk down the steps towards the toddler. “Keep me informed, Mum.” Katie and the two Police Officers got in the waiting police car and moments later it sped away up the street. The journey seemed so long to her. It was four miles, but it could have been to the end of the Country for the time it was taking. She looked out of the window all the way, although she did not see anything because her mind was imagining just what she was going to see when she arrived at the hospital. Suddenly the radio burst into life. “Three-six.” The junior officer was driving the police car, so Sergeant Mercer picked up the handset. “Yes, three six. Go ahead.” “Just to confirm that we have picked up Mr Bishop from Honicknowle Labour Club as requested.”

A Dish Best Served Cold

This was the first thing that Katie had heard during the Journey so far, as Sergeant Mercer looked behind him towards the lady, and then further out the back window of the car. “Thank you Sierra One. Out.” He looked at his driver. “They can’t be that far behind us, then.” “That’s what I was thinking,” answered PC Barlow, taking a quick glance in his rear-view mirror. Suddenly the journey time seemed to go that little bit quicker as Katie realised, she was going to be joined by Michael at the hospital and not have to face whatever she had to face there alone. Not that Michael was the strong one in the relationship; he liked a quiet life, especially on Saturday afternoons when he would put his feet up, have a glass of rum and a cigar and watch ‘World of Sport’ on the television in between reading his newspaper. Katie did not like sport, so she used to go into Plymouth City Centre to do the weekly shopping in the Market and the Co-op food section at Derry’s Cross. It had come to be a bit of a Saturday ritual. She had also picked up the shopping for her Auntie Vi and a couple of the elderly neighbours nearby, and would deliver that to them before she made the journey home, usually around 5.30 pm just as the sport was finishing, and then she would actually get a conversation out of Michael. The police car came to a halt. Sergeant Mercer jumped out and rushed back to open the door for his lady passenger as the locks were on the doors to prevent prisoners escaping. Another police car, this one with the flashing blue light came in behind them, and the same courtesy was extended to Katie’s husband as the PC opened the back door.

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“Katie! Darling,” Michael said as he embraced her, increasing the tension of the cuddle as she burst into tears. He looked at Sergeant Mercer and then asked, “Is he in there, in A&E?” His head nodded in the direction of the entrance. “Yes. That was where we last saw him. If you would like to come in, I will check.” Katie and Michael watched Sergeant Mercer talk to the reception, and then one of the nurses walked around. “Hello there.” Katie was first to speak. “Our son, David Bishop. We have been told he is here by the Police.” “Yes,” replied the nurse. “I’ll let the Doctor explain. If you would like to come this way, I will show you to a private room.” As they walked with the nurse, Sergeant Mercer perked up, “I’ll leave you to it. If there is anything I can do let me know, but I will probably need to speak to you both again at some point in any case.” “Yes,” Michael replied. Thank you.” He watched the two officers walk back down towards the reception area and then continued following the nurse, who opened a door to the left of both him and Katie. “I will get the Doctor for you.” “When can we see my son?” Katie asked tearfully. She had sat down on a chair instantly, mainly to ensure she did not fall with shock or anguish. She was only a small lady, all 4 ft 9 and a half inches of her, of which she used to remind people regularly, ‘Don’t forget the half’. Her husband was quite the opposite, in fact family members used to say they were chalk and cheese because he was 6 ft 2 inches. He also liked a drink at weekends and midweek when he was playing

A Dish Best Served Cold dominoes, whereas Katie, an ex-nurse herself, did not touch a drop. “I will let the Doctor explain,” the nurse said. “I’ll be right back.” She closed the door behind her and then walked down the corridor towards the many cubicles, all surrounded by curtains, and the many medical staff going to and fro from behind them. Michael watched the nurse and her movements and noticed her talking to a man in a white coat with a stethoscope hanging either side of his neck. “I think he must be the Doctor. He appears to be interested in what the nurse has to say.” Katie could not see out of the window. Sat down, it was too high for her to look out. “Right,” she said. “Is he coming?” “I think so. Yes, he is coming this way.” With that, the man entered the room, looked at both parents, and indicated for Michael to sit down as well. “Please,” he said, pointing towards the chair beside Katie. “Have a seat.” He watched as Michael said nothing but did as he was asked. “My name is Doctor Franklin. I am the Consultant for Neurology here at the hospital.” “Our son,” the little lady said. “What has happened to him? Where is he?” “From what we gather, David was involved in a collision with a transit van on Tamar Way. Now he has sustained profoundly serious injuries, some of which have required us to operate immediately. That is where he is now, in theatre.” “What injuries?” Michael asked. “Well, there is a blood clot on his brain which has to be acted on immediately. He has numerous

A Dish Best Served Cold fractures to the skull and other parts of the body, and one of his ribs has pierced one of his lungs. We may also have to amputate one of his legs which is severely broken and may not be able to be pinned like the other, which means we may not be able to save it.” The Doctor grabbed Katie’s hand as he noticed her eyes filling with tears. “He really is in a bad way, Mrs Bishop. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.” He looked up at Michael, who put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Oh no. My God!” she said as she started to wipe her eyes with her handkerchief. “Not my boy!” The doctor looked grimly at Michael and nodded slightly. “We will do our best, believe me. But it is going to be a long process. Now let me go and find out if there is any more on the operation and then perhaps, we can arrange for you to see him.” Michael tightened his arm around Katie, cuddling her head into his. “He will be fine, I’m sure,” he said. “He is in the right place.”

Many days had gone. Michael had to literally drag Katie home and away from David’s bedside. He had come out of the theatre; they had managed to remove the blood clot on the brain and save his leg from amputation. Dr Franklin had told the parents that it was up to David now, but with the help of the medical staff he was hoping their son would make progress, but it would be slow. They both had thanked the medical staff for their expertise, but it was early days. David was on a life support machine still and in a coma. Vicky and Rachel took in turns looking after their little brother, and the neighbourhood had all rallied around

A Dish Best Served Cold to give support. The next-door neighbour, Mrs Beasley, who was normally quite a stern, unhappy old woman, proved to be one of Katie’s biggest shoulders to cry on. Family always told Michael and Katie what they wanted to hear, that everything was going to be okay and he was in the right place. Mrs Beasley told it how it was, plain, blunt, and realistic, whilst still holding some sympathy for the boy. But Katie was thankful for that. Before this, her and Mrs Beasley had only managed a courteous greeting if they saw each other over the back-garden fence, but things changed. The incident had reached the local newspaper ‘The Western Morning News’. The journalist had picked up that it was not an accident. David had been hit by a van, driven by a man from Ernesettle who had been drinking alcohol for most of his lunchtime and who Police had said was not fit enough to walk, let alone drive a vehicle. He had shown some guilt in the Police interview, even admitted to dozing off under the effects of the alcohol until he had heard a smashing sound, seen something hit and crack his windscreen, and felt a bump as though he had run over an animal of some kind. It wasn’t an animal, it was David. He had hit him at approximately 40 mph along the lonely stretch of road. His head had hit and cracked the windscreen, and then his body had gone under the van, with his crushed leg going under the driver’s side wheels. He had then been dragged along underneath the van for some 50 yards until the driver, Tony Edwards, obtained some sense to stop, stagger out of the van and look for what or who he had hit. Sergeant Mercer and another Police Officer sat opposite Katie and Michael on the sofa in the Bishop’s

A Dish Best Served Cold sitting room, with the senior officer holding the gutter press in his hand. “I’m sorry about this. As you can understand, the press normally exaggerates to sell newspapers.” He put the newspaper down on the coffee table in front of him. “Unfortunately, following our investigations, I’m afraid to say they appear to be spot on this time.” “You mean the guy WAS actually drunk and driving the van that hit my boy?” Michael asked angrily. “Yes. He failed the breath test and was three times over the limit. He admitted drinking for most of the early afternoon in the interview. He has been bailed to return to West Park Police Station in a few weeks’ time.” “Well I hope you lock him up and throw away the key!” Michael snapped. Both hands raised to the back of his head, he grimaced, and then his eyes started filling with tears, but tears of anger, as though he was ready to hit someone in a boxing ring. “What sort of person? What sort of man? Arrrggghhhh!” “Darling, sit down, please,” Katie said calmly. “We need to stay strong for David.” “God. I am so bloody angry. I want to put my hands around his throat right now! My boy suffers and he is out probably acting as though nothing has happened!” Michael shook his head in desperation. Sergeant Mercer got up and placed his arm around Michael to try and help calm him down. “Michael. Your wife is right. This is not doing the situation any good, or David. You must think of your son. Let us deal with the culprit. Believe me, he will not get off lightly.” He led Michael to his normal waiting Saturday afternoon chair. Michael appeared to be

A Dish Best Served Cold calming down from his short angry outburst. Understandable, Mercer thought to himself. He had seen it before, and this would not be the first or the last time. “What time do we have to go, dear?” Michael said, face in hands and not wanting to visibly show his emotions. Katie looked at her watch. “As soon as my brother gets here to look after Stephen whilst the girls are at school.” Police Constable King, new to this sort of situation as he had only recently joined and was still being mentored by Sergeant Mercer, began to feel uncomfortable with the escalating situation. “How are your other children taking the news?” Katie looked at Michael and realised he did not want to answer or speak due to his hidden tears. “They are ok,” she replied. “Thank you for asking. The girls are that little bit older, so they are just worried. Stephen is just three years old, and although you think he understands, he just thinks David is at the hospital because he has fallen off his bike and grazed his knee.” She smiled slightly at the thought. “Stephen thinks the Doctor is going to put a plaster on his knee.” Then she remembered when Auntie Vi’s husband had died, not long ago. Stephen loved him because he played with his cars with him. They had to sit Stephen down and tell him that ‘Uncle George was in Heaven with the angels.’ Stephen, in all his childhood innocence, had replied, ‘What time is he coming back?’. They had all laughed at him. But suddenly the thought changed. What if Stephen were to lose two important people in his life? What if David did not make it through?

A Dish Best Served Cold

“Kids make you smile, don’t they? Innocent until they become teenagers.” Sergeant Mercer commented, with a small smile across his face. “Do you have children, Sergeant?” Michael asked sorrowfully, trying to calm himself down. Sergeant Mercer realised that he wasn’t supposed to talk about his private life, but under the circumstances, it would be rude not to answer. “Yes. Two boys, and yes I worry about them every day just like you must worry about yours.” “Well I really hope that you never have to go through something like this,” Michael replied. “I really don’t.”

A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 2

That is life. You are born. You die. The latter you cannot prevent. It is inevitable. When life ends, you will not know. Some will ask if it is fate, others will blame the Devil. Some ask God why he let it happen if he is supposed to be the saviour. Up until now, Stephen’s Mum always used to joke 'When your times up, your times up!' To be quite honest, she was not far wrong. What used to make Stephen’s mother, Katie angry was the fact that you have babies, young children and teenagers taken away from you early in their lives, and yet we have the murderers, paedophiles, rapists and in Stephen’s Brother David’s case, drunk drivers, who live for a lifetime. Life can be cruel and unfair. Now at the age of three, nearly four, Stephen had only seen things through rose tinted glasses as some would say. He was innocent. Life was only just beginning for him. Little did he know he would have to grow up at an extremely fast rate and very soon. He did not understand his world. You think that life is about

A Dish Best Served Cold playing with toys, with friends the same age, going to Sunday School and having fun at playgroups. Do you understand life at three years old? The only thing you know about death is when you shoot your brother or sister with your toy gun, and they play along with it, pretending that you have in fact, shot them. What Stephen saw almost immediately was a change in his family’s attitudes. Stress and anger had suddenly replaced love and understanding. Fun and laughter had passed and had been substituted, although he did not know for how long, with tears and blame. His Mum and Dad did not listen to him anymore. To a three-year-old, when they do not listen, it does not matter because they are still Mum and Dad, the child will still love their parent no matter what. But remember, most of the time they will grow into an identical twin of you, not listening or loving their own children. This was his life at the age of three. His world had changed. Little did he know, it was about to become more difficult than he could have ever imagined.

David had now been unconscious and in a coma for three weeks. He was still on the life support machine, and according to the Consultant, he did not appear to be making any progress. His brain was not responding. His reflexes ignorant of any attempt to bring a sign of life to the body lying in the bed. Katie and Michael both sat beside their son’s bed, hands clasped as though they were hoping that they could give life by doing so. In their minds, they would try anything to hope for a miracle and for David

A Dish Best Served Cold to wake up. They looked at him several times, knowing that his injuries would be life changing if he survived. The door opened and Doctor Franklin walked in quite forcefully, holding the door open for the nurse behind him, and letting the door closer slam it shut behind her. “Mr and Mrs Bishop.” “Hello Doctor,” said Katie, with some optimism in her voice, hoping that what the Doctor was going to say would reciprocate that optimism. “How is he doing?” The Doctor walked over to the bottom of the bed and grabbed his chart, flicking the pages back and forth. Then he shook his head. “He is still on the life support machine, which we hoped he wouldn’t be reliant on by now. Extraordinarily little progress has been made since we removed the blood clot from the brain.” He replaced the chart to its home on the bottom of the bed. “We can’t deny that his injuries have been very serious.” “Yes, we know that,” Michael snapped. “There must be something you can do.” “We do try, Mr Bishop. We exhaust every possibility sometimes.” “I know you do,” Michael replied angrily at first, then lowered his tone as he looked at David. “I know you do. I am sorry. Just a little frustrated.” “Don’t worry. It’s understandable. But you know if he does survive, he is very unlikely to be the son you used to know,” Doctor Franklin added concerningly, as he reached over and flashed his pen light into David’s eyes to see if there was any response from the boy. “There is a big chance that he will need 24-hour nursing

A Dish Best Served Cold assistance. Either in the home or a hospice somewhere.” “I am prepared for that if that outcome occurs,” Katie said. “I would not put him in a hospice where he knows no one. He is strong, though. He will pull through. I know my son.” She looked at the boy and tried to smile, somehow knowing that her hopes were likely to be dashed and she should listen to the expert. Underneath, she was choking up and felt like she just wanted to start crying again. Doctor Franklin looked at the poor lady and knew just how she must be feeling. Deep down inside though, he was thinking that he admired her unfounded optimism, and that the outcome was unlikely to be what both parents were hoping for. David was, to a certain degree, braindead, and would be unlikely to recover. But he did not want to destroy what little hope they had. “Do you have any questions before I leave?” Michael stood up, towering over the medical expert. “Just one,” he said. “In your true opinion, how likely is it that he is going to survive this?” “You can’t ask that,” Katie snapped, trying to pull Michael back down to his seat. “You can’t. You just can’t.” She shook her head angrily at her husband. “I have always been truthful to you both, but at present I cannot say. I am very worried. Very, very worried. It is like he is giving up.” “He wouldn’t do that,” Katie said, as her eyes filled with tears and she started to cry once more. “Did you know that in September, he was going in the Royal Navy? Yes, the Royal Navy. My son!” The tears started to roll down her face as she turned to Michael for

A Dish Best Served Cold support. “Tell him, Michael. Our Son is joining the Navy! He is going to be a chef!” Michael put his arms around her, then looked at Doctor Franklin and shook his head briefly and lowered his eyes, as if to indicate that he should not worry about the outbreak from Katie. She was very, very emotional, and her being this upset was also killing him inside. He hated seeing her like this, but it could not be helped. “Katie, dear. Come on,” he said, trying his hardest to console her. “This isn’t healthy. David would not want you to be like this! Not our son!” Katie stood up. “I know. I wish that someone would tell me what I wanted to hear for once in my life.” She shook as though she was feeling the cold. “I need to go home. Please. I need to see my other children. They need me as well.” With that she grabbed her coat and headed for the door. Michael looked at the Doctor and said politely, “I’m sorry. We will see you later,” and then followed his wife outside. Walking behind her, he began to wonder what was going through her mind right now. She had just up and left her son’s bedside, and it was a bit like she did not want to hear the inevitable news. She had never had a bad day in her life before. Was life punishing her for that now? Who knows? He remembered when she was in labour on Stephen, who was three weeks late being born and came out at 8lb 9 oz, which these days may not seem that big, but Katie was a small petite lady. She often joked to her smaller boy, ‘You bloody killed me when you came out!’. Not that he understood, but Michael often wondered if the regret was true, that they had decided to have a baby so late in life, and nearly eleven

A Dish Best Served Cold years after Rachel. Katie had said, ‘Never again!’ after giving birth to Rachel. Michael realised that four years ago they were going through some marital difficulties, not as bad as some, but still giving the root to arguments because Michael was working, coming home and going down the Honicknowle Labour Club to see his friends and leaving Katie to look after the children more or less on a 24/7 basis. Katie had told him at the time that he was having a ‘mid-life crisis’. He never had any affair or anything with another woman, only with his dominoes. But they talked, finally, and Michael agreed to be around more and to be there for his children. “Katie hold on. Wait for me!” She continued walking towards the exit at quite a fast pace, which surprised Michael a little, as normally her little legs restricted her pace compared to him and his giant stride. They went through the sliding exit doors and then once outside, Katie took a deep breath of the air, as though she were gasping for breath whilst she was inside. “I can’t do this anymore, Michael. I just cannot. We are losing him. You heard the Doctor.” “David is strong, Katie darling.” He cuddled her tightly in his arms, the strength nearly pushing towards a bear hug of the little lady. “You heard the Doctor. He is concerned, yes. But even he does not know what the outcome will finally be. David could wake up tomorrow. We don’t know.” He kissed her forehead and then returned to cuddling her. “Can we go home?”

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“Sure, we can,” he said, grabbing her hand and heading down the hill towards where he had parked the car. An hour later, the parents were home with Vicky, Rachel, and Stephen. Vicky’s boyfriend, Kelvin, was also there. Neither Katie nor Rachel liked Kelvin very much. Michael did not have an opinion. He just liked his easy life. Rachel suspected Kelvin of chastising Stephen and this would explain why whenever Kelvin came to the house, Stephen would disappear up to his bedroom to play. Even though Rachel was yet to catch him, she was ready. She had told Vicky of her concerns, informing her uncaring sister that Kelvin had better like his balls if he knew what was good for him, because if she caught him, he would not have either of his balls anymore but would be wearing them for earrings. Yes, Rachel took after her mother. Blunt and to the point. Her mother had often commented, ‘God help the man that marries her!’ and Michael had for once in his life, agreed with his wife. “How is he today, Mum?” Rachel asked as soon as they walked in through the front door. Katie was still too upset to answer, and Michael noticed this, so decided to give the run down on David’s condition himself. “He is much the same. Still comatose, needing the machine to keep him alive. No visual signs yet of him getting better.” He looked at his wife. “But it is early days and there is still a long way to go.” Rachel looked around the room. Vicky was too busy sitting on her boyfriend’s lap to ask anything. “What about you? Just how are you feeling, Mum?”

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“Your Mum got upset at the hospital. Seeing your brother like that just overwhelmed her,” Michael said, indicating for his wife to sit down on the waiting sofa. “Do you fancy a coffee, darling?” he asked, knowing that the answer would almost certainly be a ‘yes’ because one thing in life was that Katie loved her coffee, hadn’t had one today yet apart from the terrible cup from the hospital vending machine, and she looked like she was thirsty. “Silly question, old fool,” Katie replied as for the first time since she left the hospital, she was showing signs of being human once again. “Of course, I want a coffee! I certainly need one after the day I’ve had. The week even!”” Rachel sat down beside her mother as her father took off his coat and walked out towards the kitchen, throwing the coat down on the back of the sofa as he left. Rachel then cuddled into her mother. “You ok, Mum?” Katie nodded her head. “Yes. It is just everything that is going on all at once. Sometimes I just wish it all went away.” “I think we all hoped that it hadn’t happened, Mum. I am just thinking of little one. He keeps asking why David is not home to take him out. You know David and Phil always take him to town on a Saturday.” Katie knew alright. David and his best friend Phil Jones had been inseparable since infant school. Phil was coming down every day to check on his buddy, sometimes two or three times a day, and was even tearful when he visited David in hospital. Both David and Phil would take Stephen into Plymouth City Centre on a Saturday, and usually get into trouble. In the last

A Dish Best Served Cold visit, David put the little one onto his shoulders, and they went into Yeo’s store on Royal Parade, racing up the down moving stairs, and down the up ones. One problem, they had done the same thing many times before and this time had been recognised by a member of staff. The Store Manager was waiting for them at the bottom of the moving stairs, stopped them and banned all three of them, including Stephen, from the store. David returned home and saw no harm. He thought it was highly funny that his little brother was banned from the store at three years old. Behind David’s back, Katie also had a chuckle about it. But she had shown him her concern to his face. ‘Boys will be boys,’ she had told herself on many an occasion when it comes to David and Phil. Phil was not the only one who had been down to see how David was. The newsagent where David did his paper delivery from had been down a few times, and reassured Katie that David’s job would still be there when he was better. David was his best delivery boy, always filling in at the last minute if one of the others did not turn up. He also jumped in to help with a delivery to the shop if he was there at the same time. Then there was ‘The Bird Man’ whom all the kids in the area took injured birds to. He was not a vet or anything, but he just kept all types of birds and would regularly fix the wings and legs, or foster baby birds who had been separated from their parents, usually because they had fallen from the nests. The crazy thing was, no one actually knew his real name because everyone referred to him as the Birdman. He even introduced himself as the Birdman when he came down.

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Mr Anderson, David’s old primary school teacher who lived just along the road from them made the trip when he heard the bad news and asked if there was anything that he could do to help. Katie waited for her coffee impatiently. She then started to think which members of her family had not been in contact. Her brother Richard had told all the family about the accident. It had been over three weeks since the accident, and she still had not seen sight nor sign of her Sister June. She had seen her other sister, Maureen, up at the hospital, but not at the house. Auntie Vi, she thought. She was blind so had every good reason not to visit, but Katie knew she would try. Auntie Flo had her own problems as her husband Rich had dementia. Flo was therefore really a full-time nurse in her own right for her war-hero husband. He repeatedly told war stories to the children whenever they visited. David and Rachel used to sit at his feet and ask, ‘Tell us about the war, Uncle Rich!’ Their favourite story was always repeated regularly by Uncle Rich.

“When I was a sniper I was in the undergrowth, all camouflaged up, when suddenly this big bloody German stood about ten feet in front of me. He looked around, thinking there was no one there, and undid his pants to take a shit. As he bent down, I shot him up the arse!”

The kids would giggle uncontrollably as their mother shouted from the other room, “Are you swearing in front of the kids again, Uncle Rich?” Uncle Rich would laugh as well. The children also liked the

A Dish Best Served Cold fact that he also had a cockatoo that used to fly down and drink his tea from his mug.

The door flew open as Michael kicked it to open it wider which startled Katie, who was in deep family thought. “There we go, love,” Michael said. “A nice cup of coffee!” “Thanks, love.” It felt like heaven to her lips, as though she had not had a drink of any kind all day. “Where did Stephen get to?” she asked, looking around the room, thinking he was hiding. “He went up to his room, I think. He might be tired,” Rachel piped, knowing the real reason was the presence of Kelvin. Something just was not right, and Rachel decided to fire an evil eye at her Sister’s boyfriend, who in turn looked away from her towards the window. Katie sipped her coffee, not quite aware of her surroundings and the many conversations that were going on around her. Her main thoughts were about her son David. Staring forward, she could still see the lifeless body in her mind. It was so real, the bed, the machines that he was wired up to, the presents on his locker, the flowers, she could even smell the flowers that she had brought in and put in a standard metal hospital vase beside him. “Mum, Mum? Are you okay?” She glanced upwards at the same time breaking from the trance. “Yes, love,” she said, looking at her daughter who was being towered over by the boyfriend in the background. “Just a train of thought! I think I might need a good night’s sleep.”

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“If you need me, Mum, I’ll be over at Kelvins house,” Vicky said, hoping that it would not cause an argument with anyone. She did not see what help she could be by staying with everyone, but that was just her selfish ways. Katie did not want any upset. Yes, she disagreed with Vicky not putting the family first and staying around just in case she was needed, but her boyfriend’s house was just the next street over, and she could easily be found. “Yes, you go, love,” she said peacefully. She knew Vicky would always leave babysitting duties of Stephen to her younger sister, or Uncle Richard and Auntie Jill. Katie thought that Vicky just did not like kids. Her boyfriend was more interested in not having Stephen around at any time and did not like kids. He was the only child himself. He had his own way at home and as a child could be deemed as a ‘Spoiled Brat’, although these days the medical experts would say as a child, he had ADHD. Everyone in the room acknowledged their departure, except Rachel. She was too interested in getting her brother down from his bedroom, which he would be happy about, and so relieved in his own way that Kelvin had gone. “Me want David,” he said to Rachel as he met her on the stairs. Rachel held his hand and knelt, so her face was level with his. “Baby, David is very poorly now. You can’t see him.” “Why?” Everything was ‘Why’ when he did not understand something. The problem was, the game of ‘Why’ could go on for ages, and it became a case sometimes of who got fed up with it first. Vicky would not even bother playing the game with him but would

A Dish Best Served Cold mutter ‘Bugger off’ under her breath. Rachel was different. She would play the game and then answer back in the same context. It would usually end with both Stephen and Rachel laughing as they both shouted ‘Why’ at each other. “Well, he has lots of machines around him and only Mummy and Daddy are allowed to see the machines, the doctor said.” She started to tickle him. “And don’t ask why!” Stephen had that devilish look on his face as he paused and was ready to run as he said, “Why?” He giggled as both him and his Sister ran into the sitting room to see their Mother and Father. “What have you two been up to?” Katie asked as Stephen jumped on her lap. Suddenly there was a bang on the door. “Who could that be?” Rachel was closest to the door, so stepped out into the hallway and opened the front door. “Oh, hello Mrs ….” The next-door neighbour, Mrs Beasley brushed past Rachel and headed right into the sitting room. “Hi Katie. The hospital has just called. They need you and Michael to get there as soon as possible!” “Oh no! What is happening? Did they say why?” “No. They wouldn’t say as I’m only the contact point. It did sound urgent, though.” They were thankful that their neighbour had allowed them to give her telephone number as a contact point. Home telephones were awfully expensive and exceedingly rare in homes, and the only reason Mrs Beasley had one was that her son paid for it in order he could keep an eye on her when he was working away.

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Michael tapped her on the shoulder. “Thanks, Mrs B. We appreciate it.” He looked at Rachel. “Can you look after your brother? Richard and Jill are coming at some point. Tell them where we are.” “Yes, Dad.” “Come on Katie, we had better get going!” Michael helped his wife on with her coat, took the car keys out of his pocket and lead her towards the front door and up the steps.

The parents entered the Intensive Care Unit and headed towards their son’s room. Medical staff all gathered around, working painlessly to save the boy. It was too late. David had gone. Katie and Michael investigated the room from the outside through the large glass window. They watched the team all stop as the Doctor mumbled, “Time of death, 7.42 pm.” The petite lady collapsed down onto the floor. “Noooooooo!”

A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 3

They say that the truest end of life is to know the life that never ends. Stephen had known him for just over three years. His hero. His brother. Did he have life? He was still a child at the age of fifteen when he was taken away from the boy. Those three years were probably the happiest of his life. From now on, it was all downhill. All of his life he could carry on asking ‘Why’, just as he did as a young child. If there is a God, why did he allow this to happen? To a child? Now there are many people in my world that ask the same questions. Their Worlds have been destroyed just as the three-year olds was. Their lives have been put into a tombola and spun around until life exists no more. Stephen was three years old, but he had to understand something that really should not have happened to him for another fifty or sixty years, even more. He had to face the reality of life at the end of the life. Death, facing the impossible on his own, as adults seem to think at three years old that you are too young to understand what is going on around you if you are an adult.

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Children do not just sit around playing with their toys. They notice things. The disagreements which turn into arguments. The stress which causes the misdirection and malice between family members, be they close or distant family. Love takes a back seat. You no longer feel anything from those who should be holding you, hugging you, kissing you, supporting you, picking you up when you fall, telling you what is right or wrong and setting an example to the future of your life. So, a child’s toys become a substitute for love. The only person you can rely on becomes a substitute parent, be it a sister, next door neighbour, teacher or otherwise. Teddy will no longer save you from what is in the darkness. You must save yourself. You suddenly find yourself taking a backseat to life, like being in that child’s safety seat without being harnessed in. When life crashes, your life is in danger because someone forgot to strap you in for that ride of your life. When something major happens, those people around you talk amongst each other as though the little one will not understand. In this case, the little one did.

Stephen wondered why he was all dressed up in his Sunday School best and yet he was not there at Sunday School, but stood in a strange place where most people were dressed in black, heads bowed, most of them speaking in lowered tones, some crying, others hugging one another. Lots of people, in fact. He held on tight to Rachel’s hand because this was all strange to him. Who were all these people? Some he knew. There was Phil, David’s friend. Perhaps Phil was going to take him to see David. Stephen looked around a bit more. There were lots of

A Dish Best Served Cold cars. He loved cars. They were all different colours as well. His favourite colour was blue. His Dad’s car was blue. But his motorbike was green and white. Suddenly three big black cars drove slowly down the drive and came to a halt outside the chapel. Everyone dispersed each side, most of the men held their hands either in front or behind and further bowed their heads as the undertakers exited their vehicles. The car at the front of the queue contained Katie and Michael. The doors were opened on the cars by the solemn funeral directors, who in turn assisted the people inside the cars to step out of the vehicle. Stephen looked at his mother, and in all the silence, shouted, “Mum!” over to her. She was dressed in black and wearing a hat with a black mesh veil that covered her face. In return, Katie looked over and gave him a little wave. “It’s okay,” Rachel said, picking him up just in case he was to run off. “Mummy is busy. You have to stay with me.” Rachel had offered to take him to the funeral by bus as she did not like funeral cars. She wanted to remember her brother as a fun person, always joking around and making her laugh. She smiled as she remembered his cheekiness. He used to make her an ‘Apple pie bed’ when it was his turn to change the bedding, so Rachel would get in at night and the sheets would only go halfway down the bed. She fell for it every time. She did not want to remember him as the colour black. In the next car was David’s sister Vicky, Uncle Richard, his wife Jill, Auntie Maureen, and Auntie June. They received the same courtesy from the chauffeurs with doors opened for them and most acknowledged

A Dish Best Served Cold them with a thank you. Vicky did not. For some reason she was in a mood and Rachel knew why. She had told Vicky not to bring Kelvin to the funeral as he did not really know David, and Rachel wanted Stephen to be at ease and not worried about Vicky’s boyfriend telling him off for every little thing. Mum had just requested that everybody got on together for the day. But there was always going to be the bad blood between the sisters as Vicky let the punishments happen. She did not say a word to her boyfriend in case he just walked away. Rachel had told her that she was just as much of a bully as her other half for not standing up for her brother. The funeral party started moving into the chapel, following Katie and Michael who were directed to the seats at the front of the rows. Piped music echoed around the chapel, one of David’s favourite songs, ‘I gotta get a message to you’ by the Bee Gees. Rachel and Stephen brushed past the slow mourners and managed to get the seats just behind their parents. As they sat down, Auntie Maureen smiled in concern and asked, “Are you okay?” Stephen noticed his Auntie and innocently pouted his lips to kiss her as Rachel responded, “Yes, I am fine. It is Mum I am worried about. I hear her crying at night, for most of the night’s since David died.” Maureen granted Stephen’s wish for a kiss. “It is quite natural. People will say time is a healer, but your mum will never forget. You just have to be there for her.” She grabbed Stephen’s hand. “What about this little chap?”

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“I have told him that David has gone to live with Uncle George and the angels in heaven, but I don’t think he understands.” Maureen smiled as Stephen shook her hand. “He probably understands more than you will know.” The song finished, and everyone became quiet, calming their almost silent conversations they were all having whilst they waited for the service. The vicar stood up. “Ladies and Gentlemen.” A baby cried in the background. “And little ones,” he continued with a welcoming smile. “We are here today to celebrate the life of David Bishop.”

The whole family and the congregation of friends, colleagues, schoolteachers and even two representatives from the Royal Navy tried to cram into the small chapel to pay their respects to the boy whose life was taken too soon. Soon after they were all gathered around a rectangular hole in the ground waiting for the coffin to be lowered. Stephen was looking around as he still sat in Rachel’s arms. Where was David? Phil was crying. Rachel was crying. Mum and Dad were upset and crying. He looked around at the other people. There was no David. Then he looked at the box. Thoughts went through his young mind. What was that box? The vicar was making a final blessing before committing the body to the ground. Rachel sobbed heavy tears but tried to remember the happy times she had with her brother. She put Stephen down on the ground as he was becoming too heavy for her. She could see that it was unsettling him, his head was

A Dish Best Served Cold moving around looking at all those close to him, then he was staring at the coffin, Mum, Dad, back to the crowd. Suddenly the boy started screaming and pulling on Rachel’s arm as he tried to get to the box. He had realised just what it was. What it contained. His brother. He had seen the cartoon characters on the television at home die. He had seen the news bulletins that his dad had been watching. He continued screaming as Rachel picked him back up, but he started to punch, and kick and she had to drop him, albeit uncontrollably. Phil came over and grabbed the little one from her, holding him tightly in his arms to try and restrain him. After a while, Stephen stopped and looked at his brother’s friend. “David. Me want David.” Phil’s eyes filled with tears. “Me too,” he said. “Me too.”

Many weeks passed before Sergeant Mercer arrived at the Bishop’s house closely followed by PC King. He knocked on the door. The last time he had seen the family was at the funeral, which he attended in his own time. He had left the contact for a few weeks to let things calm. He did not want to worry the family with either good or bad news, whichever it would be. He thought that what he had to say to them would be taken either way. The culprit was charged with the manslaughter of David and causing death by dangerous driving, driving whilst over the alcohol limit and having no tax or insurance. The bad news was, he was pleading not guilty to manslaughter. Sergeant Mercer thought that if he had his way, the charge would

A Dish Best Served Cold have been murder. Unfortunately, it was not a deliberate act because Tony Edwards had not gone out that day to intentionally knock David off his bicycle and kill him. Sergeant Mercer hated those who drank alcohol and then got behind the wheel of a vehicle. He could not see the sense of it, ruining lives and ruining your own. No driving license usually meant a restriction on employment. In many cases, a loss of employment if you needed to drive for a job. He hated it even more if you had no insurance on the vehicle, as in this case did. He knocked on the door. Seconds later, an outline appeared behind the door, which was opened. It was Katie. “Mrs Bishop. Hello, do you remember me?” “Of course. Come in Sergeant,” she replied with some sadness still showing in her voice. “How are things? Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” She looked at the junior officer as well, who smiled at her and took his hat off as he stepped inside. “That would be lovely,” replied Sergeant Mercer, also removing his headgear. “Tea for me, two sugars.” “Coffee, no milk, no sugar for me please.” “Please, take a seat in there and I’ll be back soon.” Katie went into the kitchen whilst the two officers went into the sitting room, where Michael was sat watching the television. “Oh, sorry,” Michael realised he must have appeared rude by momentarily not realising they were there and ignoring them. He got up to shake their hands. “Oh. Thank you once again for coming to the funeral. It was much appreciated.”

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“That was no problem, Mr Bishop.” The senior officer stepped closer to whisper the next question. “How is your lady wife coping with everything?” Michael nodded. “Please, take a seat. She is alright. Taking each day as it comes, so to speak. I am trying to get her to go and see her doctor and get some help for her bereavement. But well Katie can be quite stubborn. She is up during the night several times. The other day I found her in David’s bedroom at three in the morning. She has left it exactly how he left it on the day of the accident.” Sergeant Mercer tried to make light of the situation whilst sitting down and getting comfortable on the sofa. “Knowing teenage boys, in a mess then. I know that from my son. If his room is in a mess, he can find everything. If his mum tidies his room, he can never find anything.” Michael nodded. “You’ve got it. You said you have two children, Sergeant? How old?” “My son is thirteen and the little girl is nine.” “What about you, Officer?” Michael said. Mercer chuckled. “You have to be joking. He’s just started shaving that bum fluff off his chin.” The Police Constable accepted his sergeants’ comment with a cheeky smile. “No, not at the moment.” “What about you, Michael? Are you finding the situation difficult?” Michael stared into the fireplace, and hesitated. Still staring he said, “I’m finding it hard relating to my other three children. I miss the simple things about David. He used to do his paper round and bring my

A Dish Best Served Cold papers home on a Saturday, and never ask for the money.” “That’s a natural reaction from a father, I’m sure.” “I’m sure I get over it. But then I feel guilty because my other children need just as much support as Katie and I.” “You are still grieving, Michael. It takes time. You will go through the ifs and buts many times, and you may never reach the conclusion that you had hoped.” He put his hand on Michael’s shoulder and shook him lightly, hoping that the big man would break out of his fireplace trance. “You are only human.” “Yes. I am.” He hesitated again, before looking at both officers as Katie appeared in the doorway carrying a tray. “Let me take that from you, darling,” he said standing and walking over to her to relieve her of the heavy tray. They all grabbed their respective cups as he walked by them and directed them to do so with his free finger. Sergeant Mercer took a sip of his. “You make a lovely cup of coffee, Mrs Bishop. I may have to make your house one of my regular coffee breaks stops. On official business, of course!” He knew that he would come back several times anyway, just to check on this wonderful family.” “You are welcome anytime, Sergeant. You know that,” she replied as she sat in her chair next to the fireplace. “What do we owe the pleasure today? Or do you just like my coffee and biscuits?” “I wish it were the latter. I have some news for you.” He stopped, wondering how either of them would take the news that he was going to give them. He had

A Dish Best Served Cold already experienced Michael’s outburst once, which although was not expected, under the circumstances he knew that Michael was completely right to do so as a father. “Tony Edwards answered his bail and was charged with the manslaughter of David and causing death by dangerous driving, driving whilst over the alcohol limit and having no tax or insurance. Unfortunately, he is pleading not guilty to manslaughter, which means it will go to Crown Court for a trial.” Straight and to the point he thought. Sometimes the best way, rather than wrapping it up with bows to give the same news. Both Katie and Michael sat in silence, holding hands, and after a while Michael looked at his wife, shook her hand, as though to wake her from the news, and silently mouthed to her, “You ok?” She nodded. “He hasn’t got a chance, to be quite honest,” said the Sergeant. “In the real world, with a good judge, he will be going down for ten years at least. The judge will not look very favourably on the not guilty plea.” “I don’t know what to say.” Michael looked at the two officers. “He is going to put us through the pain of a trial to try and get off?” “His Solicitor would have advised him to do that.” Replied the Sergeant, as disgusted as the two parents. Michael looked confused. “Yes, but why? There are witnesses. He was drunk. No tax or insurance. Okay, he didn’t murder David, but surely knowing that just being drunk would affect his basic senses to drive, he just as well had murdered him!” “We see this all the time. He is remanded in custody, so you have the backing of the Police and the

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Magistrate who put him there.” The last of the coffee touched the Sergeant’s lips, and he returned the cup and saucer to the tray. “You are not facing this alone. I am here for you, and PC King, although learning the ropes, is a good officer so we will both support you through this. You can shout, express your disgust, anything. I know how it would feel if it was one of my children.” “Do you know why I feel so guilty?” Michael started to cry and twiddle his fingers nervously. “Go on,” said the Sergeant, inquisitively as a Police Officer would, instantly suspecting there could be more to the situation than he already knew. Michael was sobbing. What he was about to say, he had not told anyone. The thought of his family reacting badly to him, or even causing bad blood between them all was enveloping him inside. The thought that Katie may disown him after all the years was killing him as well. They had always told each other everything. It was the strength between them, but what he was about to say, he had kept it wrapped up inside him with the guilt that he had felt for nearly a month. He took a deep breath, deciding that the best way was to just come out with it, a bit like the Sergeant had done earlier. He raised his hand to his eyes and wiped the tears with the sleeve of his jumper. “Tell me, darling. It can’t be that bad.” Katie nudged him slightly. “The afternoon of his accident, David’s accident.” He stopped and choked back the tears. “David had asked me for a lift to Ernesettle. To work.”

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Katie put her arm around him. “You didn’t run him over, though Michael.” “I told him ‘No’, Katie. I told him No. I told him not to be a lazy bugger and get on his bike. That was the last conversation I had with my son. Why didn’t I say ‘Yes’? Why didn’t I take him in the Triumph Herald and save his life?” Michael broke down and hid his face in both hands. “Why didn’t I take him?” There was a silence in the room. Sergeant Mercer looked at his colleague, as if the indicate that they had an emotional father here. “Michael, we could all go through the if’s and but’s over David’s death. What if it wasn’t raining and he didn’t even ask you for a ride?” “But he did!” Michael snapped. “He bloody did!” “Yes, we know that now. But it was Tony Edwards that knocked him off the bicycle. Not you.” Katie showed her support for her husband by cuddling him tightly. “Oh, Michael. This is what you have been keeping to yourself. I thought there was something wrong.” Reassurance, she thought as her mind went back to her nursing days when she had worried patients just about to go through treatment or an operation. The best remedy was a listening ear and taking the time to understand. “I killed him!” Michael shouted, hysterically.

A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 4

Guilt is probably the most painful companion of death. Yet it is something that haunts us all. In different ways. Some people feel more guilt than others. Criminals have been known to feel no remorse or guilt whatsoever. There are seventy-six known emotions of which guilt is officially listed. Any of these emotions can be passed down from members of the family, not like a disease, but a lifelong trait. If you are made to always feel that you are in trouble as a child and that things are always your fault, chances are you will pass this emotion down to your own children in the same way. Yes, people can change, but most cannot. Life had taught Stephen’s family a lesson. That no one is exempt from any type of emotion. His Dad had his anger and guilt which changed over time because it was firstly directed at the man who took David’s life, but later aimed at himself. His Mum had different types of emotions; Anger, anguish, anxiety, depression, disgust, despair, fear, frustration, grief, guilt, hatred, horror, outrage, panic, sadness, shock,

A Dish Best Served Cold sorrow, suffering and worry. These many types combined can destroy, over time, any sense of love, one of the emotions that we all need. The children did not know what love was anymore. They just lived with their parents. As children you can be made to feel like a disappointment to your parents for whatever you do rightly or wrongly. In your life, emotions come and go like a rollercoaster ride, depending on what happens to you in that life. For instance, a child of three should not feel guilt or anxiety, cruelty or fear, sadness or resentment, humiliation, or shame. Suffering. Children are innocent to the world, until they learn about life. About controlling their emotions. Yet these emotions were being fed to us on an everyday basis, by what we heard, by what we saw. Life was continuing to fall apart. Stephen’s world was ending.

On Friday 14th November 1969, The Jury had given a verdict of ‘Guilty’ on all counts to Tony Edwards, the man who had killed Stephen’s brother five months earlier. He was sentenced to eight years in prison. The boy’s family were also sentenced to a life without his brother, David, and a life without love. Stephen’s father continued to blame himself for David’s death. He just could not get it out of his mind about the day. He had tried everything; bereavement counselling, talking to Sergeant Mercer, even going to the Doctor’s for some sleeping tablets, because he had not had a good night’s sleep since the accident. He had also become distant from Stephen and Rachel, as though they were not his children. He did not speak to them, often passed them in the hallway and acted as

A Dish Best Served Cold though they were invisible to him. Vicky, on the other hand, had always been a Daddy’s girl. If he said the sky was orange, she would agree with him, even if it was blue. Michael had also spent a lot of time going down to the Honicknowle Labour Club a lot more, even on non-domino nights, and he would come home smelling of booze, both on his clothes and his breath. Katie did not like the smell. When her husband used to go just on domino nights, he would have the one pint with the boys, and then a soft drink, because he was considerate about going to work either in the car or on his moped the next morning. But now, he did not care. Things had got extremely bad in the household. The family atmosphere that once reigned peacefully was non-existent. Katie was waiting in bed for her husband to come home. Late on the Friday afternoon, he arrived back from Lee Moor where he worked, at 1645 hrs. Fifteen minutes later, he was walking over towards his mate Joe Lester’s house in order that they could go down ‘The Club’. He had not even eaten his dinner. Katie knew that an argument was going to happen. It had done several times before, and she had noticed Stephen cowering in the corner with his hands on his ears, trying to cut out the shouting from his head. What she did not know was tonight was going to go one step further than an argument. It was just gone midnight. The club had closed at 23:00 hrs. Katie knew he had probably been up Joe’s for a nightcap, and was beginning to wonder if Joe Lester was becoming a bad influence on him. This was getting to be a regular occurrence after all, and Joe seemed to be loving it just as much as her husband.

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She could hear him fumbling with his keys and trying to open the front door. “Fuck,” he said as the keys dropped to the floor. He was struggling to focus because of the amount of alcohol he had consumed that night. Everything looked blurred, so he just brushed his hand along the ground until he found them. Katie wondered whether she should let him struggle or open the door for her old man. She did not really want an argument as this would wake up the children. She also didn’t want him being noisy directly under Stephen’s bedroom window, as she knew if he awoke, she would never be able to get him back to sleep, and he would land up in bed with her, so she opened the door. “Hello dear,” slurred Michael, swaying from side to side. I’ve had a few drinks. Feel Like a shag? I do.” “You are drunk once again! Come on, inside. You will wake the children.” Michael went to step inside, but missed the doorsill, tripping over and coming down to the floor face first with a massive THUMP! “Ooohhh,” he said, raising himself up onto his elbows, and using one of his hands to check his face in case he was bleeding. When he realised that he hadn’t hurt himself, he started laughing at his own mishap. Katie knew she would not be able to lift his dead weight. She did not want to. This was self-inflicted for a start. “Come on you bloody fool, get up.” “Nag, nag, nag. That’s all you fucking do!” he replied in his drunken slur. “You should come down the club and have a few beers with us. You may loosen up!” He tried to sit up, but only managed to rest his back

A Dish Best Served Cold against the adjoining wall between the hallway and front room, and even then, he was sat at an angle as though he were about to fall to one side. “You have become a bloody disgrace!” “Why don’t you shut your fuckin’ mouth?” he shouted back. “You are getting on my nerves.” “Oh yes? On your nerves eh? Well you have been getting on mine ever since you started drinking like this. I want the old Michael back.” Michael paused, looked around as though he did not know where he was. “If I want a fuckin’ drink, I’ll have a fuckin’ drink! What’s it got to do with you?” Luckily for Katie, her husband could not seem to get himself up off the floor. She shook her head and looked at the mess of a man in front of her. Something in her head told her it was too late to be mended. The marriage was over. She could not help him any longer. She could not put up with this drunken behaviour anymore. He had only started doing this since the death of David. Yes, he blamed himself, but he also refused the further help that the doctor offered from other sources. “What are you, crying?” Michael said sarcastically as he started to laugh. Then, raising his voice, he shouted, “Fuck me. Hey everybody! The bitch is crying!” Then in a childish song-like chant, he continued “The bitch is crying, the bitch is crying!” Katie leaned forward. “Come on,” she said. Let us get you on the sofa.” “Sofa? Sofa? I want a shag!” “Well you are not getting one in that state!” Katie snapped back. “You are sleeping on the sofa!”

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Suddenly Michael swung his arm, fist clenched, and punched his wife in the face. Katie flew backwards, banging the back of her head on the bannister rail and landing dazed opposite her husband. “If I want a shag, you are my wife. You will give me a shag!” Then he tried falling sideways and pulling himself along with his hands towards his wife because for some reason he could not feel his legs. Katie was still dazed. She started to come around from the temporary unconsciousness and saw the ugly drunk heading in her direction. She grappled to the side as she noticed Stephen’s tonka truck left in front of his toy box. Michael was still crawling towards her, muttering under his breath, “Slag. Fuckin’ slag.” With one swoop, she swung the tonka toy at his head. Michael was out for the count. The impact of the toy to his head, together with the excessive alcohol had knocked him out. Katie paused for breath and looked at him, shaking her head. “You can stay there for the night, you bastard!” With that, she pushed herself up slowly to her feet. Then, slowly, she made her way to her bedroom. For all she knew, he could be dead. But she did not care. Enough was enough.

The next morning, Katie got up from bed, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was bruised black and blue, and there was some abrasion which would probably account for the blood on her pillow that she had seen when she woke up. She closed her bedroom door behind her, hoping that the kids would not rise yet. Too late. Rachel exited her room, yawning and stretching her arms up. Then she gasped.

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“Oh my God, Mum. What happened? Are you ok?” She walked over and tried to touch the wounds, but her mother pulled away. “I’m ok,” she replied. “Your Father came home late last night. Drunk. One thing led to another and he lashed out at me.” Rachel continued to try and see the extent of her facial injuries. “Mum, you have got to do something about this. Where is he? Bastard!” Thinking he was in the parent’s bedroom, she went to walk in there, only to be stopped. “He’s not in there, love. I hit him back. He is out cold at the bottom of the stairs.” Her daughter walked a few steps to the top of the stairs and looked down. Then she whispered, “I can’t see him.” She crept down the stairs one by one, looked over the bannister rail and saw blood on the floor, but no body. “He’s not in the hallway.” “Are you sure?” Katie replied, frightened out of her mind. She knew that Michael would never hit the children, well, when he was sober anyway. Who knows what he would do whilst he was drunk? “Be careful, love,” Katie said as she began to follow her close behind to try and see for herself where her husband was. “The front door is slightly open. Has he gone out?” She looked down the hallway towards the kitchen, then shouted, “Dad? Are you here, you bastard?” She hesitated and was just about to shout again when Katie grabbed her arm. “Schhhhh!” she said frantically as she listened for any sound downstairs. “I can’t hear anything!”

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“Me neither.” Rachel took one final look around. “Bugger it,” she said, walking down the remainder of the stairs. “Dad! If you are there, you had better come out!” She said, storming into the sitting room on the right, and then heading toward the kitchen. She disappeared from Katie’s view momentarily, checking out the kitchen, then through to the dining room, checking out the window to the back garden, and then walking through the sitting room back to her mother. “He’s not here,” she said. “What a coward. If he were around, I would have given him a kick in the bloody bollocks!” Usually, Katie would scold the children for swearing. But on this occasion, she did not care as the support was coming her way, and in reality, if her husband was there, she would have probably let Rachel give him the kick. “Lock the doors and put the bolts across,” Katie panicked. “I don’t want that bastard in the house again!” “Mum, you are going to have to call the Police.” “No, love. I do not want to do that.” Katie stared in front of her. She was thinking whether reporting the matter to the Police was a good idea. She remembered the advice she had given to many of her patients when she was a nurse before the kids came along. There were always cases of husband/wife abuse on her ward, some of them quite horrific. Did she want to land up as one of her patients of old? She did not think so. But Michael was the father to her children. How could she get him into trouble? It might be the only way to make him see sense and try to get him off the alcohol, she thought to herself. Would he change? She did not think so. If she reported the matter, he would get a Police

A Dish Best Served Cold record and probably lose his contract with UK Quarries. At least he would have less money to spend on the booze. Rachel moved closer to her mother who appeared to be in her own world. She shook her. “Mum!” “Wha …… Oh dear. Sorry love. What were you saying?” “Do you want me to call the Police?” Suddenly a voice echoed from the direction of the hallway. It was Vicky. “What do you need to call the Police for?” she asked, eaves dropping in on the conversation. She appeared in the kitchen and immediately saw the condition of her mother. “Mum. What happened?” “Our darling father, that’s what happened,” Rachel snapped, getting in before her mother could try and defend him. “Dad wouldn’t do this!” Vicky replied. “He did, last night! Drunk as a skunk, Mum said!” Vicky shook her head. “No, surely not.” “It’s true, love,” Mum added. “Your Dad did this.” “Where is he now, then?” Vicky started looking around for her father. She had always been a Daddy’s girl and would not see him do any harm. She remembered when he and Joe Lester took her for a ride in the van towards Tavistock. They were just two scoundrels when together. They saw some flowers outside the driveway of one of the farms and decided they would have them. Quickly putting them in the back of the van, Joe and Michael sped away as fast as they could. They left them in the van overnight, and the next morning, Joe opened the back door, only to be met with

A Dish Best Served Cold a most ghastly smell. ‘A bit like strong dogs piss’ he told Michael. Those were the good old days, Vicky thought. “We don’t know. He was gone this morning. The last time I saw him, he was laying on the floor in the hallway.” Katie calmed her voice to try and calm Vicky. “What the hell was Dad doing on the floor?” Vicky screamed, alternating her stare between her sister and her mother, an angry look on her face. “Listen to yourself,” Rachel snapped, shaking her head. “You always did act as though butter wouldn’t melt. Dad is an alcoholic! Now he is an abusive alcoholic. He punched mum! Look! Her face says it all!” Katie listened to the two girls arguing and tried to blank out the internal noise as she said quietly, “He was going to force me to have sex.” The girls continued to argue and did not hear her the first time. Katie raised her voice. “He was going to force me to have sex!” They stopped arguing. Rachel’s expression on her face became more concerning, and then angry. “He did what?” “He was trying to force me to have sex with him.” “Well he is your husband!” Vicky stormed. “He is entitled to have sex with you.” Rachel jumped across the room and grabbed Vicky’s hair, anger showing on her face as she could not believe what she was hearing. Vicky screamed in pain as Rachel started pulling her about using her hair. “Bitch!” Rachel said. “You should be standing by mum!” Rachel punched her in the mouth. Vicky continued to scream as their mother tried to stop the fracas and calm thing down. “You two, please. Stop this now.”

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Rachel did not want to stop. She let her hair free as she slammed her face first into the floor. “How would you feel if your boyfriend forced you?” Vicky was now crying, so much that she found it hard to speak in between the tears and moans. Rachel backed off at her mother’s request. “You can be such a twat sometimes Vicky. Think before you speak.” Vicky stared at her younger sister but stayed on the floor. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll get another punch else.” Rachel looked at her sisters bleeding lip. She knew that even though they had never got on, today had reached a new peak in their hate for each other. “Stop! Stop it! Stop it!” Katie pleaded with the two of them from the bottom of her heart. “Can’t you two just get on? For me?” “Sorry, Mum, but no. She is an inconsiderate bitch. If she wants to stick up for her father, then she should find him and go live with him!” Rachel walked out, down the hallway and slammed the front door. “Where is she going?” Vicky asked. “She is still in her pyjamas.” “She just needs space. How is your face, love?” Katie looked concerned at her daughter’s nose. Not that she should after Vicky’s outburst. She knew Rachel could be hot headed at times. She had been in trouble at school before for defending a boy who was being bullied by a group of other boys. One of the bullies grabbed her and she had thumped him in the face. They stopped bullying the boy, but then went on to ridicule the boy who had been thumped in the face

A Dish Best Served Cold by a girl. Katie began to feel guilty that Rachel had defended her in such a way. “You saw what she did to me,” “Yes, I did. Well perhaps you deserved it.” Katie smirked letting her daughter see the quip. “You have such an acid tongue sometimes, young lady!” “That’s right! Stick up for your favourite daughter! She can’t do a thing wrong in your eyes!” she replied heading towards the stairs before turning back towards her mother. “Perhaps you deserved that smack in the face as well!” Katie let her go without a reply. It was a mess. All she needed right now was the family falling apart like this. Looking down towards the floor, she shook her head, trying to think of her next move. But there were so many mixed emotions going through her mind now, she found it hard to think straight at all. She heard Vicky storming up the stairs with a ‘Thud!’ on each step. She hesitated in the silence then looked around the kitchen. It was going to be ripped out soon and a new one installed by her husband. Maybe he still will do the kitchen, she thought. No. She shook her head. Rachel returned, coming back in the front door. She had a guilty look on her face, as though she had done something that she should not have. Going back into the kitchen, she went over to the kettle and filled it with water. “Coffee, Mum?” “Yes please, love. Have you calmed down now?” Katie suspected something was wrong in her body language and speech. “You could say that,” Rachel replied. “Where have you been?”

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She was going to find out sooner or later, Rachel thought. “I went into Mrs Beasley’s to use her phone.” “You didn’t?” “Yes, I called the Police. That bastard is not going to get away with this. He is an abusive father and he is definitely an abusive husband!” Katie sat down quickly on the chair. “Oh no. What have you done? He will be arrested.” “Good! He deserves it! He tried to rape you, Mum! He has made a complete mess of your face. Those two things are unforgivable. Unforgivable!” She continued to make the coffee as the kettle boiled, poured into the cup, and passed one to her mother. “I am here, Mum. I am not having you treated like this.” “I can’t think at the moment, love.” Katie said with her mind going in all directions and not making any sense at all. “That’s ok.” Rachel put her arm around her mother, her hand tapping her shoulder in support. Her compassion was stopped as she heard the same ‘Thuds’ that Katie had heard several minutes before. Vicky was coming down the stairs in anger, but fully dressed. At first, she said nothing. Rachel looked down the hallway as Vicky opened the front door. “Bye!” she said sarcastically. “Was that your sister?” “Yes, she has gone out. Probably to look for her precious father!”

The Police arrived and took statements. They called an ambulance to take Katie to hospital to get her injuries

A Dish Best Served Cold looked at, as they feared that she might have a broken cheekbone. In the next few months, they hunted for Michael Bishop on suspicion of grievous bodily harm and attempted rape. They tried all his haunts, the Labour Club, Joe Lester’s house, the Blue Monkey public house, the Fellowship public house. They did not find him. No one could find him. He had disappeared off the radar. His emotions for the family life had changed. He could add cruelty and rage to the anger and guilt. The four together were going to destroy him.

A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 5

Many people say that children should be allowed to grow up in their own world, with their life being an avenue of fun and joy, of toys and learning. Children learn from their parents, family, from their teachers at school and the company they start to keep around them. Life is shaped by these things. The paths to the life you lead are shaped by the same people. If your parents split up, chances are your emotions will start to appear at an incredibly young age. You will begin to feel that the reason your parent’s parted company was your fault. A child of nearly seven should not be made to feel guilty for what has happened to their family because that is the parent’s responsibility. A child of seven should not be made to take the responsibilities of someone twice his age. The old saying, ‘He had to grow up fast’ was commonly used in Stephen’s household after his Father left on that day in 1972. Life was different.

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You can feel sorrow for those around you who share the same experience. No Dad to come to your sports days, take you to football, down the park or watch cartoons with. Gone were the days when you would be punished for taking a sip of your Dad’s rum and taking a puff of his cigar whilst he was out of the room. Other children can be so cruel. You have no one to protect you. Your Dad is not around. Who is going to fight your battles? You feel the emotion of guilt for laying the problems at the feet of your lone parent because they have enough to cope with themselves. If you have an older sister or brother who really loves and adores you, you substitute them for the missing parent. If you have one that hates you so much and you get on their nerves just for being alive, then that is a different situation. Stephen had one of each. People say they feel sorry for you not having a man in the household to issue the punishment when it was needed. Do all children with a lone parent become delinquents, psychopaths, social misfits? It is life that makes you these.

Their father had been gone for three years. Katie had not received a penny for the children. No one had seen him; he had not turned up for work since the day he left. She had instigated Divorce proceedings on the grounds of desertion. Not what she wanted to do initially, as over time she was beginning to forgive Michael because she knew what he had done just was not the real him. The demons inside him caused by both the guilt and the alcohol had made him that way;

A Dish Best Served Cold uncontrollably violent. She just wanted to know that he was alright and not lying in a gutter somewhere. In the past three years, Stephen had to cope with German Measles, Whooping Cough and Mumps as well as his family being torn apart. Stephen was ten years old and missed his Dad. He was constantly reminded that his father had hit his mother in the face and was no longer a genuinely nice man. Dad was made to always seem to be the bad guy. To Stephen, he was still his Dad. Vicky resented Katie, Rachel, and Stephen, even though he was only six at the time, for letting it happen and not trying harder to get things back to normal. Rachel made it known to Vicky that she was glad she had called the Police and if he ever turned up, she would do so again, because unlike her mother, she had not forgiven him and probably would never do so. Rachel’s relationship with her sister had gotten so bad, that Vicky and Stephen had to change rooms. Vicky moved into the box room, which she thought was kind of small, but gave her privacy. Stephen was glad because he was in with his favourite Sister. He began to wind Vicky up and swap her tights with Rachel’s which were a smaller size, and this made Vicky actually have to speak to Rachel. Stephen also put spiders and sloe worms in Vicky’s bedroom drawers and a few times, in her bed, which had caused her to scream loudly. Deep inside, Stephen was troubled by something. He was never any good at sports, mainly because he had never had the chance to do any. His father’s idea of getting him into some type of activity was letting him watch ‘World of Sport’ on the television on Saturday afternoons.

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At School, he was one of a few in his class that only had one of their parents because of Divorce, separation or one of their parents had died. He was never invited to birthday parties, mainly because he had not gone to those that he had previously been invited to. He used to hide the invites from his mother. If she looked in his school bag, she would have probably found a pile of them unanswered on their requested RSVP’s. Now even at the last year of primary school there were still the bullies, the delinquents that had been brought up thinking that it was okay to extort what little money the quiet and weak children had. They normally went around in groups of three, the ringleader and two henchmen. Stephen was one of those who was a victim of the henchman Nigel Dodd and his two clowns Michael Dwyer and Colin Bettison. They would regularly taunt Stephen about his parentage and demand money or he would get a beating. Mum always gave him his 20p for his bus fare home if she was working late. Three times now they had taken his money, and on two occasions he had to walk home, arriving later than normal, and worrying Rachel who was supposed to be looking after him. He had also got inside the door and ran right upstairs onto his bed, where he would cower in the corner, hide his face with his arms and cry. Stephen did this on what was now the fourth occasion that the bullying had happened. He had not told anyone. He could not tell anyone, or the bullies would get him. He came home thirty minutes later than normal, dumped his bag, and ran upstairs. Rachel jumped off the sofa. “Stephen, Is that you?” She looked

A Dish Best Served Cold and saw the schoolbag, and then walked up the stairs. She could hear the sobbing from their bedroom, so poked her head around the door. He was not visible. Walking in the bedroom, she just saw the top of his head in the far corner of the room. “Stephen? What’s wrong, baby?” “Go away!” “I can’t baby. You are upset, and that makes me upset as well.” “Go away!” Stephen demanded this time louder than before. “I don’t want to talk about it!” “This is your big sister here. You know you can tell me. You come home late and then come up here like this. Something must be wrong. If you do not tell me, I cannot fix it. I promise I will not tell anyone else. But me and you do not have secrets, do we?” She got closer to the crying boy and put her hand on his raised knee, and then got down on her knees to his level. Stephen lowered his hands and looked at her. His eyes were red, as though he had been crying for an exceptionally long time. She reached up and tried to dry his tears, but he turned his head away. Initially in the semi-darkness she thought it was a shadow on his face which appeared to make his face dark. But then she turned his head and saw that he had a blackened eye, as though he had been in a fight. “Who did this to you? Have you been in a fight or something?” Stephen hid his face once more as he muffled “I hate that place. School! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!” Then he started crying loudly as his sister got closer to him, close enough to hold him tightly. He lowered his hands from his face and returned the cuddle.

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“Who did this to you?” Rachel asked sternly. “And why are you late home sometimes?” Knowing he could trust his sister, he took a deep breath and said, “Some boys at school. They beat me up and take my money, so I have got to walk home. They laugh and say that I don’t have a Dad to stick up for me.” “No, you don’t baby,” she said, stroking his head to calm him down. “But you have a big sister! We are going to stop this bullying once and for all. How does that sound?” “But how? They find me in the lunch times or in the breaks.” “Have you told a teacher?” Stephen shook his head. “No. They say they will get me after school if I go to the teacher. They do it to others as well. Simon and Martin.” “Then we will go to the Headmaster. Is it still Mr Gillard?” Rachel knew that he had been at Brake Farm Junior School for years, firstly as a teacher, and now as Headmaster. He had been her teacher, and she knew he was firm but fair. “Yes.” “Well we will go and see him first thing tomorrow,” Rachel cuddled him tighter. “You won’t tell Mum, will you?” He had that worried look on his face, as though telling his Mum would get him in some sort of trouble. Hesitating, Rachel said, “We may have to baby, if we are going to go to the School. They may only deal with Mum.” “But she will think I’m a wimp. She already says I should be more like David.”

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Rachel had heard her mother say this and other things several times, as though Stephen was no substitute and did not live up to the memory of her treasured older son. How David used to buy her chocolate and flowers, wash the dishes, was always very thoughtful and, was going in the Royal Navy and would have probably been an Officer by now. She knew that Stephen just would not be able to live up to the memory of his big brother. “Please Rachel,” Stephen said. “I don’t want her to know.” “Okay, baby. But if the School wants her to know, we will have to tell her then. Deal?” Stephen nodded in agreement. “Deal!” “High five?” Rachel held up her hand as Stephen slapped it with his hand. “Now get changed and come down for your food. Your favourite. Sausages and mash!”

The next morning, Stephen and Rachel disappeared early to walk up to the school. It was a beautiful morning, sun already shining in the sky, its warmth already glowing on their faces as they went up the ‘pink path’ and crossed the road towards the school. They went into the front reception door and approached the secretary. “Can I help you?” the stern looking frumpy woman was exactly how Rachel had pictured in her mind. “Yes. Is it possible to see the Head about my brother being bullied?” The Secretary opened the diary on her desk and used her index finger to scan the Headmasters

A Dish Best Served Cold appointments for the day. “I’m not sure if he is available. Would you like to make an appointment? I can probably get you in next week.” Rachel stared at her. “He had better make himself available, otherwise I will make it a Police matter. My brother and other pupils at this school are being bullied, harassed, and forced to hand over their bus fare and dinner money to three thugs you have been educating at your school. How do you think he got this?” She spun Stephen around and pointed to his black eye. “Assault and extortion at School! That would make a good headline in the Herald!” “It’s okay Gloria. I’ll handle this.” Mr Gillard had appeared behind her. “Would you like to come into my office?” He pointed the way and opened the door. “Please take a seat. Now what seems to be the problem? I heard something about Stephen being bullied?” “That’s right. He has come home late from school numerous times because a group of boys are taking his bus fare and threatening him. Yesterday, they did this!” She touched Stephen’s face and showed the Headmaster the black eye. “That looks nasty,” he replied. “You are obviously a relative of Stephens?” “It’s my sister, Sir.” Stephen said. “Yes, I remember you. Rachel isn’t it?” He reached out to shake the hand of the former pupil. “And where is your mother?” Rachel looked at the Headmaster. “I’m sure you can understand that Stephen came to me last night and he doesn’t want his mother knowing, what with all the problems she already has to think about.”

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“Ah yes. I understand,” he said, picking up his pen. “Could I ask who these boys are?” “Go on, tell him,” Rachel said, looking at the scared face of her brother. “Nigel Dodd, Michael Dwyer and Colin Bettison,” Stephen said, quite confidently as he had his sister with him for support. “Nigel is the main one. He was the one that punched me last night.” “Right. Just as I suspected.” “You know of them?” Rachel asked suspiciously. “You could say that.” He put his pen down and looked at them both. “All three have been in and out of children’s homes and they are troublesome children.” Rachel was trying to work out whether he was trying to make excuses for the three or was trying to work out in his mind what steps to take next. “I will have to have a word with their Social Worker first.” “Surely if you have bullies in the school, no matter who they are and what backgrounds they come from, you can dish out the punishment yourself?” Rachel was becoming concerned that this was just going to be swept under the carpet in order to save face. She had seen it several times before when she was a school herself. Schools hate politics between them and the authorities and agencies. “If only it was as easy that, Miss Bishop. They will need to have their guardian with them, which is either their Social Worker or their case worker at the home. That can take some time.”

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“What happens in the meantime?” Rachel snapped “Stephen and the others continue to get bullied and beaten up?” “I will try my best to ensure that doesn’t happen. I will make the staff aware. Arrange extra patrols in the playgrounds.” “Oh yes,” Rachel replied sarcastically. “That should solve the problem.” “In the short-term!” The Headmaster immediately replied. “It is not going to be something that we are going to be able to fix overnight, Miss Bishop.” “Well I tell you now, our next step will be the Police. I am NOT having my brother hurt in this way. He’s been through enough.” The Headmaster nodded in agreement. “Please, leave it with me. I am taking it seriously, believe me.” Rachel stood up, looked at Stephen and said, “I will meet you outside your classroom at 3.30pm. Is that okay?” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Stephen nodded and stayed sat in the chair. “Thanks, Rachel.” “I will make sure he gets to class safely,” the Headmaster added. “Thank you for bringing this to me.”

Rachel stood outside the classroom. Stephen could see her and was easily distracted by her presence, but the teacher had been made aware of the escalating situation by the Headmaster. The teacher did not react to Stephen even though he was not concentrating on

A Dish Best Served Cold his schoolwork but waving at his sister through the window. The school bell rang from outside as one of the prefects bellowed the hand chime from the playground. The teacher in Stephen’s class gave them permission to leave and they all raced out of the side door towards the playground. Suddenly Nigel Dodd grabbed Stephen before he could go up the steps to reach his sister. “Where’s my money today?” He said demandingly, holding Stephen by the neck against the wall. Rachel jumped down the steps, grabbed Nigel swinging him around to face her, then grabbed his lapels and lifted him forcing him into the same wall with anger. She could see the look of a coward on his face as he realised, he had been caught. “You listen to me you little shit!” Nigel started to cry nervously. “That is my little brother. I heard what you said to him!” “Get off me!” he bellowed with fear, trying to push her away from him, but not even succeeding in the least. Rachel reinforced her grip. “If you go near my little brother again, take his money or anything else, even speak to him, I will make sure you pay for it. Comprendez-Vous?” She grabbed him around the chin and neck with one of her hands. “You will be wearing your balls for earrings!” She let him go, and he ran off. “Wow,” Stephen said as all the children around them cheered noisily.

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“Doddy got chinned by a girl, Doddy got chinned by a girl,” was the chant around the over-zealous playground. “Come on, let’s go home,” Rachel said, grabbing Stephen’s hand and heading towards the gate.

Later that evening there was a knock on the door. There was a familiar face as Katie opened it. “Sergeant Mercer!” “It’s Inspector Mercer, these days! I have been doing this job too long! Can I come in?” “You know you are always welcome! Is this a coffee break or official business?” Katie asked, leading the way to the sitting room. “We haven’t seen you for some time. I guess you have been busy, especially with your promotion.” He was tall for a Policeman, quite a muscly build, especially for his age. Joe Mercer kept himself in good shape but was looking forward to his retirement. “I don’t get out much these days. But I am afraid that today I am here on official business. Need to speak to your daughter, Rachel.” “Rachel?” she replied, surprised at the Inspectors request. Rachel never ever did anything illegal. In school she was always the goody-goody. Prefect in the last year of her being there at Burrington. “What do you want her for?” “I’ll explain in a minute, Katie. Can you call her for me?” “Sure,” she replied, looking up the stairway. “Rachel, love. Can you come down?”

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The girl came running down the stairs but slowed as she saw the two officers standing just inside the doorway of the sitting room. “Oh.” “I guess you know what this is about?” Inspector Mercer looked at her with raised eyebrows as Rachel nodded back at him. “Shall we go in and talk about it?” “What’s wrong, love?” her mother asked, oblivious to the visit to the school earlier. Rachel just shook her head as she went in the sitting room and took a seat. “Nigel Dodd,” Inspector Mercer said shaking his head. “We have received a complaint from Devon Social Services that you assaulted him today after school had finished.” “No,” Rachel replied. “He gave my brother a black eye and stole his bus fare. He has been bullying him for ages. There are other being bullied as well.” “Yes, we know. After your heroics, seven parents rang the police to complain about him and two other boys.” “What’s going on, love?” Katie asked. She thought that Stephen had got his black eye playing in the back garden. Or that was what Rachel had told her. “What’s this all about?” “Stephen didn’t want to worry you. He is being bullied at school by three lads. They steal his money, so he is forced to walk home, and punch and kick him. They taunt him about not having a dad. So today I stepped in when he was being bullied and taught the kid a lesson.” “Well the Headmaster wants to thank you, unofficially of course,” said the Inspector. “Nigel Dodd

A Dish Best Served Cold and the other two are refusing to go back to school. You did the trick.” Stephen rushed over and cuddled his sister. “She is my hero,” he said with a smile on his face. The Inspector and his PC looked at them all. “It was self-defence. I am not going to take any more action. Just give you a verbal warning. Don’t go beating up any more schoolchildren!” Rachel shook her head. “No, I won’t. Thank you.” “It’s too much paperwork for me.” He turned to the little lady. “Katie, nice to see you again. Take care.” Katie saw them out of the door and watched the two go up the steps and back into their Police Car. Then she embarrassingly turned her attention back to Stephen. “I had no idea. You should tell me things, Stephen.” Stephen shook his head but would not give any eye contact to his mother. Every time he did, it made him feel like he had to put on an act. He knew he wasn’t as confident as David; he could never run up the escalator like David used to or do a paper round. He just hated being around people he didn’t know. “Mum,” Rachel intervened, “Stephen feels that you are trying to replace David with him. He is his own person. His own character. He is not David. You really need to stop comparing them. That is why Stephen tells me things and not you. If it were not for the Police turning up like they did, you wouldn’t have known about the bullying issue.” Katie sat down frantically and started crying. “I’m so sorry, you two. What have I done? I’ve been so

A Dish Best Served Cold wrapped up in my own little world that I forget about the three of you.” Rachel and Stephen sat either side of her and embraced their mother. “Oh Mum, we survive, don’t we?” Rachel said with a tear in her eye. “We all have to look after each other. Vicky included.” Rachel knew that she did not really mean that last bit, but she was saying it just to keep her mother happy. She still hated her sister. In the past few years, she had refused to see what her father did to her mum as doing anything wrong. Vicky had threatened to leave and go and live with her boyfriend one day whilst Katie was at work so Rachel threw her down the stairs and chucked all her clothes down at her, shouting, ‘Good riddance,’ as Vicky stormed out of the door. Unfortunately for Rachel, she returned as her boyfriend’s parents were deeply religious and did not believe in them sleeping together before marriage and did not have a spare room to let her sleep alone. Vicky had to come back home with her tail between her legs much to Rachel’s dismay. Katie smiled. “You are a good girl, love. Sometimes I miss having your father around. The old father, that is. Your brother as well.” She rubbed Rachel’s face, who in return, said nothing, but smiled back at her. “I can’t help but think of David when I look at Stephen. It is wrong of me to hope that he turns out like his brother. But I really want David here.” “It’s not going to happen, Mum. David is gone. He is dead. Now that sounds hard, but you must let go sometime. You can still remember him but try and live with who and what you have.”

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Katie needed cheering up. Suddenly, Stephen came in with a letter that his teacher had given him to take home to his mother and passed it to her. Expecting the worse, Katie tore it open and started to read. “Oh my. Oh my.” She passed the letter to Rachel. “Stephen has passed the eleven plus.” She looked at her hero of a boy. “Well done, young man,” she said now crying tears of joy, and pulling the boy into her for a hug. “That is amazing.” “Yes, fantastic! Bloody fantastic!” Rachel screamed. “What’s an eleven plus?” Stephen asked.

A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 6

Life is what you make it. That is what you get told throughout your life. Your parents tell you, your siblings, your family, elders. If you start at the bottom, it can be extremely hard to make something of your life, especially if you have no role models to compare yourself against or look up to. Most children who are good at football want to be football players in a professional capacity for one of the big teams like Liverpool, Chelsea or Manchester Utd, depending on who they support, but most of the time who they have never seen in a live game. Their Dads put them in an amateur kid’s team and follow them around shouting abuse at the referee on a Saturday afternoon. After many losses, the child realises his dream is not ever going to come to light. Children whose parents have been in the military, usually want to follow in their heroes steps, or are made to feel so guilty that they are forced into the role, at times not living up to expectations from their parents, or the call of duty does not live up to their

A Dish Best Served Cold expectations because it is nothing like the films on the television. Then you have those who want to be pop stars. They have watched and listened to their favourites perform their songs to a generation, the majority lasting no more than a couple of chart hits before disappearing off the radar. Heroes. They look up to heroes. But those that they look up to aren’t heroes in any sense, but in a child’s mind because they score that goal that beats the other team or sing that song that gets in the charts and gets everyone dancing, they are their heroes. It is up to the parents to teach them otherwise. Innocence is the weakest defensive emotion. Innocence is a single voice, whereas guilt has a thousand voices. You cannot call your father a hero if day after day you are reminded of the things that he carries the guilt for. Your innocence as a child becomes a lie, your confidence goes, and you become frustrated. You cannot make your life what you want it to be. You have no one to look up to. No hero.

It was rumoured that Stephen’s father was back in Plymouth. Many people had reported seeing him, or someone who looked like him locally, at Honicknowle shopping centre, West Park and Crownhill. Stephen overheard his mother and sister Rachel having a conversation about whether they should tell Stephen or leave it until the rumours became true and he was eventually seen by one of the family. Stephen knew that he would like to see his Dad. He needed a hero in his life right now, someone that could make things better at school in order that he

A Dish Best Served Cold would not be bullied for not having a Dad ever again. He would not mind sitting down beside his Dad on a Saturday afternoon and watching the sport on the television. Dad would have his rum or whiskey depending on what he fancied, and he could have his glass of orange juice and a banana. Perhaps his father had come back to see him go to big school in a few weeks. Stephen became excited at the thought. His Dad could drop him to school or see him to the bus stop. Now he knew that Rachel would not tell him anything. She hated her father for hitting mum and would not tell him anything. Vicky did not speak to him at all and had called him ‘Surplus to human life’ in a previous conversation. Who would know? Joe Lester! Dad’s best friend would know. His Mum had often suspected Joe of hiding Michael on many occasions when Michael had initially disappeared. But Stephen was not allowed all the way over to Joe Lester’s house. It was near the Honicknowle shops where he was allowed. Just a little bit further. Mum would not know. Anyway, he was going to big school soon and would be eleven in just over a week. That is old enough to go to Joes House, he thought to himself. He looked at the clock on the wall in the hallway. Four O’clock. Joe will be home from work by now. Stephen walked into the sitting room and looked at his mother. “Mum, can I go to the shop and spend my money that Rachel gave me?” “Yes, you can,” she replied watching the boy running to the door. “But no further than the shops!” He did not need any more prompting. He was off up the road, Montacute Avenue, but instead of going

A Dish Best Served Cold all the way up, he turned right into Harewood Crescent. He knew a short cut down the pink path to Joe’s house, and he knew it would be quicker. He started to run as fast as he could to get there quicker and not get his mother suspecting that he had taken too long to go to the shops, and therefore be in deep, deep trouble for telling lies to her. She often reminded him that if he told lies she would wash his mouth out with soapy water to make sure that he did not lie again. The picture of this was in his head as he finally stood outside Joe’s house. Stephen banged on the door. Slowly, a shadow of a man behind the door opened it and looked at the boy. “I know you,” he said, realising that this was his friend Michael’s boy. He had not seen young Stephen for many years, ever since he was just a toddler. “How are you master Stephen?” “Hello Uncle Joe. I’m looking for my Dad.” Stephen was hoping that his father would be inside Joe’s house. After all, the two of them had been friends for many years. “Have you seen him?” Joe shook his head. “I’m sorry, son. I have not seen your dad in a while. Do you want to come in for some fizzy? Mary is in the kitchen.” Stephen shook his head. “No, I can’t,” he replied with a frown across his forehead. “My mum doesn’t know I am here. Her and Rachel were talking, and they said that they had heard that my Dad was in the area.” His face filled with disappointment, just like a child who had been promised a birthday toy that never ever materialised. “You had better get home then if you’re here without your Mum knowing where you are.”

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“If you do see him. My Dad. Tell him I love him? Tell him I need him.” Stephen’s eyes started to fill with tears of the disappointment. “Course I will,” Joe replied trying to share the boy’s disappointment. “Now get yourself off home or you will be in trouble.” He watched Stephen turn around and slowly walk away from his house. Then he turned to the tall figure stood in the shadows of the stairway. “Don’t you ever ask me to cover for you again Michael! That was your boy. He is missing his Dad, and you can’t even be bothered to see him.” Michael came out of the shadows. “I know. I am just not ready to see anyone at present. Give me time. I have not seen any of my kids for nearly seven years. It’s going to be a bit of a shock to them.” What Michael did not tell Joe was that he had absolutely no intention of seeing them whatsoever. If he saw Katie, she would tell him he needed to give her the maintenance for the kids for the last seven years. That, he could do without at the present time, especially as he was due to remarry. He had met a woman called Val in a pub in Eggbuckland. She worked behind the bar and had become his drinking buddy. Katie would have told him that they were perfectly suited, two alcoholics together! The thing is Michael had not told Val that he had been married before and had four children. Secrets and lies.

Stephen rushed home, slammed the door, and ran up to his bedroom. Rachel heard him and went into the hallway. “Stephen, is that you babes? Did you get anything nice at the shop?” There was no reply. Upstairs, the boy had dived head-first onto his bed. He stared at the lamp on the bedside table and

A Dish Best Served Cold started thinking in his young mind. He had done this before, especially during the time that he was being bullied at school. Where was his Dad when that happened? Where was his Dad at Parents evenings? Nowhere. Mum had been there. Even at his sports days when he was last in every race. He did not care that he was last. He participated, and that was what it was all about. His teacher used to say, ‘It’s not the winning, it’s the taking part,’ and he had told his Mum this. Katie had let him see the welcome brochure for his new school. They did have a big sporting background, which worried him a bit because he was not good at anything. Since his father had left, he had not even watched the sport on TV because it didn’t feel right without his Dad sat in his chair. He did not know the rules without his Dad explaining them every time for him. The new school promoted their excellence in football, rugby, badminton, cross country running, cricket, athletics, and fencing. Stephen did not like any of them. He was still incredibly angry that his mother had chosen to put him to Regent High School for Boys without asking if that is where he wanted to go. Most of his schoolfriends, such as Simon Hilton and Geoffrey Radmore were going to Burrington School, not far from their current place. Stephen would have to make new friends at Regent High. He was not particularly good at that. His thoughts changed. Just what was he going to do about finding his father? Search all his old haunts. Keep an eye out on Joe Lester’s house when he had the time. If his Dad still wanted a newspaper, he would get it from the newsagents on the green. Perhaps he

A Dish Best Served Cold could surprise his Dad over there? Dad used to play dominoes on a Monday and Thursday at the Labour Club. Perhaps he still did that? But that was in the evening, and Mum would not let him go far in the evening. Perhaps he could sneak down like he did when going to Joes? He could always climb out of the window and on to the roof of the front porch, slide down the pole, like he had done many times before for fun with his friend Martin. Perhaps Martin would come with him? Two sets of eyes are better than one. Stephen and Martin had the same surname but were not related in any way. They never used to get on, because Martin used to steal the apples from his dad’s apple trees whilst they were out. But they realised quite soon that they had a lot in common, most of all dysfunctional families. Martin had come over to ask if Stephen wanted to come over the park with him, and then Stephen realised he was not that bad at all, and after that even let him take the apples. There were more than enough to go around, and his Mum used one, maybe two bowlfuls for her apple crumble and that was it. Martin’s family probably needed the apples to eat. Since then, Stephen had Martin as a friend, and Rachel had become friends with Martin’s sister, Janet. Stephen had a plan. Now all he had to do was execute it over the next few weeks to try and catch his Dad.

The school start soon came around in September 1976. Everyone kept asking Stephen, ‘Are you excited about starting a new school?’. Stephen thought, what was the point of being excited about something when you were going to lose all your friends from the

A Dish Best Served Cold previous school, and you would not know anyone? But to keep the peace, he always replied ‘Yes’ to whoever asked. On his first day, Mum and Rachel took him to the bus stop over at the edge of Tamar Way, ready to catch the number 18. He looked prim and proper in his new blazer, shirt, and tie, which Rachel had made sure was tied and worn correctly, and shiny school shoes. They were more excited than him, as he waved to them from the window of the bus. Mum had already told him to ‘Get off at the Museum and the school is behind it.’ She had also previously made the journey with him when they were in the City Centre just to make sure he knew the way. He stood outside. Other boys all looking prim and proper passing him to go in through the large double doors, which looked like the doors you would find on a castle, in fact the school had a moat around the outside where various things were stored such as goal posts, boats and oars. Stephen looked up at the grandeur. He began to wonder what this school was going to be like for him. For one, this time it was all boys. He had been told by his sister that ‘first years’ as they are called, always get picked on by the older ones. Rachel had told him to ignore it if it happened. He walked in and was met by his form teacher, Mr Ward. “Up the steps and to the right,” the teacher said firmly. “First classroom on the right.” “Thank you,” said Stephen, following the directions he had been given. He noticed how old the building was inside, wooden floorboards that creaked like the ones in the TV programmes with ghosts in them. The large doors to every room. He came across

A Dish Best Served Cold the first classroom on the right and hesitated. With some trepidation he took a deep breath and walked in. “You had better go faster than that!” said the voice from behind him. Stephen turned around. A familiar face. They had been to Brake Farm together. Stephen smiled. He was not alone. “Mark Dawe!” “Hello mate.” He knew that he and Stephen had not really took notice of each other at primary school, but now they were the only two from there in this school year. “Let’s get a seat, shall we?” “Yes,” Stephen replied. “Over there? There is a double table.” “Fine.” All his worries went out of the window. He had someone that he knew, and looking around at the others in his class, they were all shapes and sizes, and he knew there were going to be the horrible ones as well as the nice ones. Time would tell. At least he had Mark.

Later that afternoon, Stephen returned home and looked for whoever was indoors. He knew Mum would be at work as she had told him that she was on the late shift. Rachel ran down the stairs. “Hi! How was school?” She reached over to give him a hug. “Great,” Stephen said. “One of the boys from the other school is in the same class as me at the new school.” “Brilliant! Me and Mum were worried that you might not like it. How about your teachers?” “Well, our form teacher is called Mr Ward. He is alright. He made us all stand up and introduce

A Dish Best Served Cold ourselves to the rest of the class and say which school we had come from. We then got introduced to the other teachers and where all the classrooms were. It is extremely strict. There is a thing called detention where you have to stay behind after school if you are naughty.” “Just don’t be naughty then,” Rachel laughed. “Yes, we used to have detention at Burrington.” “Can I go out to play, Rachel?” “Any homework?” She raised her eyebrows. “Not yet. I guess I will have some soon. How am I going to do it?” “You have me to help you, don’t you?” She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece over the fireplace. “Right, I need you in by 6pm for your food. That gives you an hour. Where are you likely to be if I need you?” She always asked him in order that she could indirectly know his whereabouts. “Over at Martins. But we will probably go up the park, or down the tip.” The tip was not really a tip. It was a green area, which would probably be renamed as a nature reserve in the future, quite large, that spread from behind the houses in Harewood Crescent to the left right over to the end of the pink path at Honicknowle Lane, and to the right up to the Ernesettle Roundabout. You could find paths that took you through the woodlands to Weston Mill and Kings Tamerton. Both Stephen and Martin knew that they were only allowed on the patch behind Martin’s house, an open plain where they used to play ‘Hide and Seek’ regularly with some of the other children. Most of the plain was visible from Martin’s house, so the children were easy to keep an eye on and call on if they were

A Dish Best Served Cold either needed by their parents or their mealtimes were being ignored by either one of the children. “Okay. Change out of your school uniform into your scruffs and do not forget. Back by six!” She watched Stephen race up the stairs. He had been going out quite a lot over the past few weeks after coming home from school. She suspected something. Something just was not right. She started wondering just what could it be? He was too young to have a girlfriend. Or was he? Was he a member of a gang of some kind, or hanging out with the wrong kind? She dismissed the latter. He was not confident enough to do that. What was he up to? She waited for him to come back down from his bedroom. “Bye Rachel!” He shouted as he closed the door behind him and ran up the steps. Rachel looked out of the living room window and watched him until he went out of view heading down towards Martin’s house to the left. Then she grabbed her coat and keys and went after him. Getting to the top of the steps, he was out of view already. She walked down past Mrs Beasley’s house and as she got to the bottom of the path, looked to her left. She could just see her brother running down Harewood Crescent in the opposite direction to Martin’s House. Just where was he going? Had he arranged to meet Martin somewhere else? Time to find out. She ran over the road and banged on Martin’s parent’s front door. Mrs Bishop answered in her dressing gown which surprised Rachel until she remembered that her mother had told her she was a barmaid over at the Victory Inn. She was probably getting ready to go to work, Rachel thought.

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“Hello Rachel. If it is Stephen you want, I do not think he is here. Martin is in watching the television.” “Is there any chance I could have a word with Martin?” Rachel pleaded. “Stephen has gone off and I need to know if Martin knows where he is going.” “No problem. Hold on.” Then in a screeching voice that she was famous for in her street, she shouted, “Martin! Someone to see you!” Then, looking back at Rachel, she said, “You will have to excuse me love. I don’t want to be late for work!” Rachel acknowledged her with a nod of her head as Mrs Bishop went upstairs. Moments later, Martin came to the front door. “Hello Martin. Your mum says Stephen is not here with you?” “No,” said Martin nervously, not expecting to see his best friend’s sister turn up at the house. “Do you know where he is?” Martin began to go red in the face as the guilt of covering for Stephen overtook his emotions. “Not exactly,” he replied. “Not exactly? What does that mean? Either you do or you don’t.” Rachel looked sternly at the boy. “He said to me he was coming over to see you. Then I see him running down the street and not coming over to you. Have you two fallen out or something?” Martin shook his head. “No, we haven’t fallen out.” “Do you know where he is going then?” This time he nodded. “He is going to find his Dad. He said that he heard you talking about him and saying that he was alive and back here.” “Oh no. Bloody hell! Do you know where he is going to look?”

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Martin nodded once more. “Yes. He has been hiding up near his Uncle’s house. We went there the other day. Ashridge Gardens.” “What? Uncle Joe?” “That’s it,” Martin replied. “Uncle Joe.” Rachel was gone, up the steps and running down the hill in the direction Stephen had gone. She knew which way he was going if Martin was correct. The pink path and then up beside the stream. She also knew that that route was renowned for attracting ‘dirty old men’ who liked little boys just like him. She knew that he knew this because she had warned him several times. Stephen had a head start, but she was faster. At the bottom of Harewood Crescent she turned onto the pink path. It was still light, but daylight was about to disappear within the hour. For a few moments, she stopped running to catch her breath, reached the mud path beside the stream and turned up toward the Honicknowle Labour Club which was in the vicinity of Joe’s house. There he was. Fifty yards in front of her, hiding behind a large oak tree, and randomly peering around to look at Joe Lester’s front door. Rachel caught her breath, and then slowly walked forward so as not to startle the escapee. He hadn’t heard her approaching as she stood behind him and asked, “So this is where you have been coming? What the hell do you think you are doing? You know you are not allowed this far on your own!” “Shhhhhh!” he replied putting his finger on his lip like they had to at Primary School when the class was noisy. “I’ve found him.” “Found who?”

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“Dad! He is over at Uncle Joe’s.” Rachel stopped being angry with the boy and peered around the tree just as he had been doing. There was no sign of life. “There’s no one there, Stephen. So how do you know Dad is there?” She looked back at him, thinking that he was making up these stories because he hoped that his Dad was there. “Stephen, baby. It was only a rumour that your Dad was back in Plymouth. How do you know he is there?” “Because she has been coming up here every day for the past week,” Stephen said, looking right towards Joe’s house. “She?” Rachel asked. “Who the hell is she?” She looked around the tree and at the house. It was Vicky. She was leaving Joe’s house. She was giving a tall slim figure of a man a hug and kiss on the cheek, and it was not Uncle Joe. It was Michael Bishop. Their absent father. Rachel seethed with anger but tried to remain in control of her emotions. She knew they had to get back home before Vicky and being so angry that she wanted to go right over and punch Vicky, her Father and Uncle Joe right there and then was not going to help matters. “Come on you,” she said angrily. “Home, now!” “But I want to see my Dad!” “Have you had any thought about the fact that he probably doesn’t want to see you? He has been in the area a few weeks, Stephen, so we have been told. Has he been in contact?” Stephen shook his head. “No. But he has been with Vicky!”

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“That is probably because Vicky has always thought that the sun shines out of his rear end, and always has done. Vicky supported him when he assaulted Mum.” She grabbed the boy’s hand and could see on his face that he was thinking about the situation and was getting disappointed. “Stephen baby. You need to face the truth. How many years has Dad been missing now?” “Nearly seven.” “How many times has he tried to contact you in seven years?” Stephen went quiet and thought about the situation in front of him deeply. “Come on. Let’s go home.” He started walking ahead of Rachel and started to realise that his Dad just was not a good man and was not going to be there for him to go to those sports days or parents’ evenings. He was not going to be that role model that Stephen wanted. Rachel spent a few moments looking at her sister who was still talking to her father. “Bitch,” she said under her breath before following the boy. They got home, and Rachel tapped on Mrs Beasley’s door. “I won’t be a minute, Stephen. Here, use my key and go in.” She watched the boy go down the steps just as the old lady answered the door. “Could I use you telephone please?” “You can, dear. As long as you are not calling Australia,” Mrs Beasley replied, stepping aside to let the girl in. Rachel started to dial and watched the dialling ring force itself back each time she dialled a number. 9 – 9 – 9. “Emergency, which service do you require?”

A Dish Best Served Cold

Rachel smiled. “Police please!”

A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 7

Life can change at any time. People’s actions can change your life for better or for worse. Some people such as parents, teachers, doctors and nurses, community workers and even volunteers go out of their way to make your life the best thing you will experience. You can have happiness in life, be it short lived, or longer, or even the ups and downs in life which again, can be governed by the people around you. You move in the circles that you feel are right for you. That you are comfortable with in life. People rely on social interaction with others to keep them happy, and in some cases, alive. Not everybody can digest social interaction with others. Instead they see people as a threat. They are only happy when they are alone. You learn social interaction at an incredibly young age, and this starts as part of the schooling process where everything is done as a class, a team. Children need role models. Some have them and some have disappointment in life when they realise that their role model is not who they had hoped, sometimes for many

A Dish Best Served Cold years, would be like. Hopes and dreams are dashed in a millisecond. This will be forever remembered by the child, and without the correct guidance from the people around them, it will alter their life, their world. Imagination forms a big part of early childhood. You have that toy car that is going to be parked in a space, just like your parents park their car. Girls have that doll that they are nursing in a hospital, just like their role models nurse real people on a day to day basis. You begin to think of what you want to be when you grow up, and your aspirations are amazing. Firefighter, professional footballer, solicitor, doctor. To get there you need a steady educated life behind you, guidance from those who matter in life to you, and a push from those who one day will be able to say, ‘That’s my son’ or ‘That’s my daughter’ when they graduate in their learning. Does the social misfit count? Will they receive the same treatment at school as the child who appears outgoing and intelligent? Do we really know a person? Can we really say?

It was Stephen’s second day at his new school, not that he wanted to be there after what had happened the night before. He had a feeling inside that he just wanted to run away, and he had thought about it, but then had told himself that he would be just as bad as his so- called father, who had run away all those years ago. He thought he had a bit of a headache, but knew it was something more. Voices ringing around his head. He could hear Rachel, Mum, Vicky, David, Mr Ward, and others whose voices he did not know, all at the same time. He sat in the cloakroom next door to his own

A Dish Best Served Cold classroom, because even though it was not quiet, it was quieter than being in the corridor or classroom. The voices were getting louder. Not the other kids voices, but the ones in his head. He tried to listen to see if he recognised any apart from the ones he had already accounted for. He didn’t. His temperature was shooting up, he was feeling clammy so undid his top button on his shirt and loosened his tie. Suddenly his eyes started to roll, he became dizzy, not knowing where he was and then without warning fell off the bench onto the floor. Mr Tynan, Stephen’s Mathematics teacher, was walking past the cloakroom and heard the loud thud of the boy’s body hitting the floor. At first, he began to wonder where it had come from, so investigated, and the cloakroom was closest to him. He walked in and saw the boy on the floor, immediately recognising the face from yesterday when he had come around in a group to see the teacher and the classroom. Tom Tynan got down on his knees. “Bishop! Bishop!” There was no response. He quickly checked his breathing and then placed him in the recovery position before going for help. Stepping out of the cloakroom, he saw one of the prefects looking at the notice board opposite. “Kelly!” “Yes, Sir?” replied the boy in military style, turning to face the teacher and looking as though he was standing to attention. “We need an ambulance. Run up to the secretary’s office and tell her there is an unconscious boy in the ground floor cloakroom.” Michael Kelly did as he was instructed and ran up the stairs to the first floor where the Secretary and

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Headmasters office were situated. He tapped on the door but did not wait for an invitation to enter. “Hello, Miss. Sorry to bother you. Mr Tynan needs help and an ambulance at the ground floor cloakroom. A boy has collapsed.” The secretary, an aging spinster who had gained much respect over the many years she had been at the school from all the pupils, picked up the phone. Then she said to Michael Kelly, “Can you find Mr Trace, or the Headmaster or Deputy Headmaster, quickly. Tell them. I will call the ambulance.” Downstairs, Stephen was beginning to come to. The room was spinning. Tom Tynan was watching him and taking his pulse every minute, checking his temperature with his hand placed on his forehead. “Stay still, lad,” he said sympathetically. “You’ve had a fall.” He covered him up with one of the coats on the hangers. Stephen started to groan as he felt the pain on his forehead. He did not know if it was from the fall or the headache that he thought he had before he collapsed. He could still hear the many voices, though not of the other schoolchildren who had by now dispersed into their respective classrooms ready for the register to be called. Suddenly, Michael Kelly appeared at the doorway. “Mr Tynan, Sir. The ambulance has been called. The Headmaster is on his way down to assist you.” “Thank you, Kelly.” “Is there anymore that I should do, Sir?” “Yes,” Tom Tynan said, still making sure Stephen was calm and safe. “Make sure no pupils

A Dish Best Served Cold come near the cloakroom. Rush them along. And look out for the ambulance.” “Yes, Sir.” Stephen opened his eyes to see his mother and his sister Rachel sat next to him. Rachel held his hand tightly as he started to come around to normality. He tried to picture where he was and was having difficulty getting his bearings. In a soft, dry voice he asked, “Where am I?” His mother started to stroke his forehead. She knew he liked that as many a time when the girls were out and it was just her and Stephen at home, she would sit on the sofa and Stephen would lay down with his head on her lap. Whilst they watched television, Katie would stroke his head and his hair, and nine out of ten times he would go to sleep. “It’s alright, love,” she said in her deep Irish accent. “You are in hospital. You became poorly at school.” Rachel stepped out of the room to find a nurse and let the medical staff know that her brother was awake. When she returned, the nurse was right behind her, and immediately went over to check the boy. “Hello young man,” she said. “Welcome to the land of the living! You have scared the living daylights out of your family!” She checked all the vital functions, writing them down on the chart as she did each one; heart rate, blood pressure, temperature and finally the one that hurt, the blood/sugar level. “How are things?” Katie asked as she tried to peer over what the nurse was writing. “Blood pressure is a bit higher than I would like it,” the nurse replied. “His heart appears to be racing, but that could be just the shock of waking up after being

A Dish Best Served Cold out for so long. We will keep an eye on that regularly whilst he is with us.” “Do they know what caused him to collapse and blackout?” Katie asked the nurse politely. Katie just did not like hospitals, even though she went back to nursing just after Michael had disappeared. She thought that it was different when you are on the receiving end of the service, as opposed to nursing the patients back to health. She also remembered the awful time she had coming into see David and even though she helped people in her job on the geriatric wards, she still had bad memories of losing her son. She regularly thought that when you are in the job, you seem to think it will never happen to you, but it does. “We are doing tests which will enable us to find out a lot more once the results come back from the labs. Until then, Stephen will be staying with us. He still has to have an ECG and EEG, so now he is conscious, I will arrange those.” Katie looked at her son once more, and noticed he was going back to sleep. “I think now is a good time for us to go home, freshen up and have something to eat,” she said to her daughter. “We will be back later this evening.” “That might be for the best,” replied the nurse as she checked all the reading on the monitors to the left and right of the bed. “He is going to be pretty groggy and in and out of sleep for the time being. Don’t worry, if he asks, I’ll tell him you will be back.” “Thank you.” Katie grabbed her bag.

Vicky had done something in the home. When Katie and Rachel arrived back at their house, they could

A Dish Best Served Cold smell the burning of wood and coal. She had lit the fire. Rachel knew there had to be an alternative motive for her actions, there always were. She was probably feeling the cold or needed a bath as the fire heated the radiators in the house and therefore heated the hot water. Either that or she wanted to borrow money off someone. They walked into the sitting room and saw Vicky sitting in the chair close to the fire. Vicky had yet to see Stephen in hospital, but Rachel thought she probably would not. “Hi Mum. How’s Stephen?” Before Mum could answer, Rachel jumped in. “Well if you made the effort to go up to the hospital and see your brother, you would know.” “Rachel, please,” Katie said worriedly. “He has just started to come to, love,” she said to Vicky. “They are doing tests so he will be in for a few days.” “He is on the Children’s ward at Freedom Fields if you can make it,” Rachel added, sarcastically. “Visiting is 2pm to 8pm!” “Will you lay off me?” Vicky snapped. “I am concerned!” “Concerned enough to see Dad behind our backs?” Rachel snapped. “Wha……?” Vicky went red faced with guilt, like a child caught out on a lie. “Don’t deny it.” Rachel knew that she could not. She had caught her off guard and had all the facts. “Your visit’s to Joe Lester’s house to see our absent father!” Katie looked at them, her head switching from daughter to daughter. “Is this true, Vicky?” Katie was surprised and asked herself if she always went around

A Dish Best Served Cold with her head in the sand, not realising what had been happening in her own family. “I ….” Vicky stuttered aware she had been caught. “Yes, it’s true, Mum,” Rachel intervened. “Pity it was her little brother, who I might add, is desperate to see his father, that found him!” Rachel was bitter. “I’m sorry, Mum,” Vicky said as she started to cry. “Have you told your precious father that his one and only son is in hospital and would probably like to see him?” Rachel snapped, not giving Vicky the chance to answer. “Of course not! You selfish bitch!” “So how long has he been back, Vicky?” Katie asked sternly. Vicky did not know who to answer first and nervously decided her mother should get the first reply. “A few weeks,” she said. “This gets better,” Rachel screamed. “Unbelievable. And why hasn’t he been down to see Mum, me or Stephen?” Vicky stood, not really wanting to relay the next conversation. But she decided that she had to. “He doesn’t want to see you,” she said quietly. “Any of you.” “So why you then, bitch?” Rachel snapped. In her mind she wanted to jump over and punch her sister, but she knew Mum did not like the violence after what Michael had done to her. “I don’t know,” Vicky said sorrowfully. “He sent me a letter, asking me to meet him at Joes. I guess I was the only one that didn’t judge him when the incident occurred.”

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“Incident? Incident? Really? He assaulted Mum and then was going to rape her! Now he is prancing around as if nothing has happened!” She folder her arms and turned her head towards her mother, reaching out to touch her for support. “He has a new life now.” “New life? What? Wife? Kids? Well I can tell you now, it won’t be for much longer.” Rachel smirked whilst she starred evilly at her sister. “What do you mean by that?” Vicky asked cautiously, knowing what her fiery sister was like.” “You haven’t done something stupid again, love, have you?” Katie added, still worried at the escalating argument between the two sisters. Rachel shook her head. “Not stupid, Mum. I just let the Police know where he was. Hopefully, they have arrested him by now!” “What?” Vicky screamed, realising what her sister had done. “You called the Police? How could you be so cruel?” She grabbed her coat and headed towards the door crying and muttering ‘Dad’ in between sobs, worriedly but silently. She said no more to the pair. There was an awkward silence. Deep inside, Katie was angry at Vicky for doing what she had done, keeping a major secret, and acting as though it was as much Katie’s fault as it was her fathers. She stood staring at the fire, so many thoughts going through her head, her main one being Stephen. But this was going to blow up big time, she thought. “Are you ok, love? Calmed down?” “It’s good to get it out of your system. Before we told you about Dad, Stephen and I wanted to see if he

A Dish Best Served Cold wanted to see us all. Obviously, he doesn’t.” Rachel spoke calmly, slightly shaking her head. “I can’t believe the nerve of that man. And I wonder what this new life thing is?” “I don’t know,” Katie said, a tear coming to her eye. “But perhaps with the divorce and him having a new life, it will be closure for me.” Another silence, Katie was really struggling with her daughter Vicky’s deception. Rachel just did not know what to do next. She did not know if the Police had caught her father after her phone call. No one had been down to let Katie know and see if she was still happy to take the charges forward. “Most of all, Mum, are you okay? You have been through a lot, and probably didn’t need this right now.” “I don’t think there would have ever been a good time, love, so it’s best that it has come out in the open.” She started folding the clothes that were going in the ironing pile. Katie used to iron everything. Trousers, pants, even socks. It was something that she had always done, even though Michael had gone, and there was a reduction in the pile, plus she had a part time job now. “What are we going to do about Vicky?” Rachel asked. “I don’t know. There is always going to be the animosity between you and her. Now, I have lost my trust in her.” Her daughter shook her head. “She doesn’t do anything for Stephen. She couldn’t care less that he is in hospital.”

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“I’m beginning to think you are right,” and then trying to make light of the situation, said, “And don’t say I told you so!” Rachel laughed and went to go upstairs, pausing at the bottom and shouting, “Oh, and Mum?” “What?” “I told you so!” “Go and get ready! Bugger! We will have dinner and then leave.” She continued folding the large pile of washing but was thinking at the same time. Katie knew that the worst thing you could do is be alone and let your mind work overtime about something that may never occur. It is always a case of ‘what if’ that gives you many scenarios in order that you can prepare for one of them, or none of them, Katie thought. But what If you do not ‘what if’ the right outcome? She also knew that this is what drove her ex-husband Michael to drink. He had blamed himself with a list of ‘What if’s’. Her train of thought was broken by a knock on the front door. “Hello Katie,” said her brother Richard, stepping in and giving her a hug. “Thought I could give you a lift to the hospital and kill two birds with one stone by seeing my nephew at the same time.” Richard was always prim and proper. He had successfully turned a run-down timber company back to a profitable business after going to night school and getting his accountancy qualifications and then buying into the timber company as a director. Katie hugged him back. “It’s good to see you, Richard.” She then looked up the stairs and shouted to her daughter, “Rachel, your Uncle Richard is here!” She knew that Rachel always got on with Richard

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A Dish Best Served Cold because he used to help her sometimes with her Maths homework when she was at school. “Apart from young Stephen, anything else I need to know about?” Richard asked, knowing he was always Katie’s shoulder to cry on in difficult times. He had always been her little brother but, as Katie used to say, with his head screwed on. “Believe me, Rich. You don’t want to know!” Katie said emphatically. “Have you had your dinner? There is plenty to go around.”

Two hours later, whilst Katie, Rachel and Richard were at the hospital visiting Stephen, Vicky returned home. Quickly, she packed her suitcase and a bag with her clothes and toiletries, and then left, no note, nothing. She was just fed up with the whole family. Having gone up to Uncle Joe’s house, she found out that her Dad had been arrested for the crime of assault and attempted rape on her mother some six years back. They would not let her see him as he was due in the Magistrates Court the next morning. Distraught, Vicky had gone to her boyfriend’s House, and his mother agreed she could stay there with Kelvin until she sorted things out with her own family. She could not see it somehow. But Kelvin had other plans. He and Vicky had been going out for a couple of years now. Was it time to make things serious? He would wait and see. The Bishop’s did not like him very much, and the feeling was mutual. But the last thing he wanted was disharmony on their big day if he were to pop the question. Vicky would also probably like her father to walk her down the aisle.

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Would her mother turn up at the wedding knowing her ex was going to be there? Lots of questions, he thought to himself. Both he and Vicky were the same temperament, loved each other, did not give a shit about anyone else or what they thought, and all together were both very selfish. Perfect, he thought. But if Vicky continued not to speak to her mother, would she just send her an invite to the wedding with a ‘PS Don’t bring Rachel or Stephen’ on the bottom? He could see why even his own mother was starting to dislike her. What should he do? If they got married would she turn on him in the same way, because he knew that a leopard never changes its spots. Could he really see himself with Vicky for the rest of his life? Thinking about all the angles, Kelvin was now beginning to doubt himself. Perhaps he would see how her staying for a few days would pan out with the them both. “Are you going to tell your mother where you are?” He asked her, knowing that Katie would be worried if Vicky did not go home without letting her know. “They don’t want me there,” Vicky replied. “If I had stayed any longer, Mum would have thrown me out in any case. So no, I am not going to tell her. Let her worry.” Kelvin knew the reason why to that statement. Not even he would go against his mother if she were in the same situation. Vicky’s father was not denying that he had hit her mother or even tried to have sex with her on that night. Why was Vicky sticking by him? Surely it would be easier to keep the peace and indicate that

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A Dish Best Served Cold what he did was wrong even if you didn’t really mean it?

Later that evening, Richard dropped Katie and Rachel back home. He had seen her boy and was concerned that the blackout had happened but reassured Katie that he was in the right place. “Any chance of a coffee, Katie?” “I’ll get the kettle on,” she replied, going on ahead towards the house. She opened the door, and, trying to keep things as normal as possible shouted to her other daughter. “Vicky? Vicky are you home?” There was no reply. Katie looked at her watch. 8.45pm. It was still early. She had rushed off when Rachel said about the Police, so she could be seeing her Dad. Or with her boyfriend. Or her best friend Suzanne. Richard and Rachel came in, laughing and joking around. “No Vicky?” Richard asked inquisitively. Katie had told him about the argument earlier, and he was expecting her to be here to try and make things up with Katie, and also for him to give her a roasting for being so insensitive, as he had done on many an occasion before. “No, it doesn’t look like it,” Katie said. “Rachel, love go upstairs and see if your sister is in her bedroom. She may just be ignoring us.” Rachel ran up the stairs, checked the box room, and then came back down. “No, she’s not upstairs.” “I wonder where she has gone?” “I can guess,” said Rachel, inside fuming at her Sister.

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Chapter 8

Is life shaped by God? Do the things that your family from generations back dictate how you will be treated later in life? Many people when they lose someone special question the very existence of God. To Christians, God is their role model, the one they look up to. Yet unlike that football player or pop star, God has never been seen or proven to be some being, an entity, a living force. We rely on the word of priests and church goers who spend their lives trying to convince non-believers that what the bible says is real. Are the punishments for our sins passed down the line? The child gets murdered. It is a sin. The Devils work. Evil took over the madman that committed the atrocity. The mother loses a son in an accident. It is a sin. The Devils work. With all the bad things happening in the world, Christians are still waiting for the rebirth of Jesus Christ. Some are brought up with faith, others grasp it later in life. But then some reject the faith, at a young age because their parents say they must.

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Others have believed for years and given up when they start to question whether God really does exist. Facing reality is a part of life. We can all read the bible to get the answer as the priest tells us to do, but something in a verse to one person, can be interpreted as something completely different by another. At the end of the day, life has a habit of kicking you when you are down, and only you can choose to pick yourself up. Children are innocent. They are born innocent. They see things different to adults who have experienced life and death. When does the age of innocence die in a child? When it is demanded in life that they grow up and some children do this early in life because of circumstances that happen to them. They experience life and death in their lives at an incredibly young age, not only their human loved ones, but their innocence commands the life and death of their pets as experience. A Child can see at a very young age that God does not exist, and if he did, that life and death experience that they are having so young and that takes away their innocence shouldn’t have happened to them if God loved them as the bible says he does.

“Michael Ronald Bishop. You are charged with aggravated assault, in that on the early hours of Saturday 16th December 1972, you struck one Katie Bishop in the face causing actual bodily harm. How do you plead?” Michael looked at the Judge. “Guilty, your honour.”

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You are also charged with attempted rape, in that on the early hours of Saturday 16th December 1972, you did attempt to rape one Katie Bishop. How do you plead?” Michael looked at Vicky who was sitting in the spectator’s seats at the back of the court room. “Not guilty,” he said loudly. The Judge looked at his clerk, who whispered something to him. “I do not need to wait for sentencing for the charge you have pleaded guilty. I sentence you to two years in prison. Because of your previous good character, the sentence is suspended for two years.” The judge looked down at the papers on his desk. “The date for trial for the attempted rape has been set for Monday 17th January 1977.” The judge looked at Michael’s barrister who was accompanying him. “Any problems, Mr Jones?” “Yes, your honour. The question of bail for my client.” “Your honour, the crown disapproves any application for bail as the defendant has disappeared once before for a period of six years without trace, and is therefore a flight risk,” snapped the Crown Prosecutor, standing as he did so. “Bail is refused. Mr Bishop, you will be held on remand until your trial.” Michael looked shocked as he saw the prison officers lined up to take him to the transporter outside. “What now?” he asked his Barrister. “Leave it with me. I’ll be in touch.” “All rise,” the clerk shouted, forcing everyone in the room to stand whilst the judge disappeared to his chambers via the door behind him. The prison officers

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A Dish Best Served Cold put Michael in cuffs and then led him to a side door leading down a corridor and outside to the waiting security vehicle. Vicky shook her head and then left the court. She could not believe the trouble that her sister had caused by calling the Police, and she felt herself choking up inside as she began to imagine the effect prison would have on her father. He was mid-forties after all and was no spring chicken. The alcohol had taken its toll on him, his weight had plummeted. What used to be a healthy 14 stone man, was now a 10 stone skeleton. Her anger rose inside her as she realised that her father was weak, and prison was no good for him. He could die in there. What could she do? Nothing. She walked up and caught the bus to go back to Kelvin’s house. That was it, she was never going home.

Whilst Vicky was at the court, Kelvin made the decision to go down and see Katie just to let her know that her daughter was safe, which Katie thanked him for. Whether or not it was a bad decision to do that, Kelvin would only have to wait and see. He could have gone to the court with Vicky but decided that he would stay home and help his mother instead. “What did her mother say?” Kelvin’s mother asked him inquisitively. “She just asked how she was, and when was she was planning on coming home. Then said thank you for letting her know.” “Well I don’t want her here awfully long. She is bad news. The wrong girl for you! It’s about time she went home.”

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Kelvin was beginning to think the same thing, and although he knew he was in no way deemed a ‘mummies boy’ by his friends, he listened to her advice. “I doubt she will be,” he replied. “I don’t think we will be together exceptionally long. You are right. She is not the one for me. She is beginning to make me unhappy.” He had thought about this long and hard, the thoughts even keeping him awake at night whilst he was beside her in bed. What was he going to do? His mum looked at him and smirked. “Well there is no point in delaying the inevitable,” She said. “I know, I know. I just don’t know how.” He looked long and hard at his mother, and then started biting his nails on his right hand, which he always did when he was nervous or in trouble. He hated himself for doing it, as it made his fingers bleed at times. But he could not stop it. His mother even threatened to cover his fingers in pepper or tie them behind his back. But the threats did nothing. “Well here is your chance,” his mother replied looking out of the kitchen window. “Your girlfriend has returned.” Vicky knocked on the door, and as it was opened, she instantly put on the waterworks to try and get sympathy. “What happened,” Kelvin asked. “He has been remanded on the rape charge. Two years suspended for the assault.” She tried to cuddle Kelvin tightly, but he became slightly distant. Would it be wrong to say they were over when she is distressed like this? Then he thought if the shoe was on the other foot, and it was her who wanted to dump him, then it would happen in any circumstance. Vicky noticed that Kelvin’s closeness was no longer there.

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His normally strong arms were not hugging her, but just around her, and he had not yet kissed her as normal. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “You could say that,” he replied, pushing her away slightly. “Whilst you were out, I went down to tell your mother where you were.” “You did what?” she snapped. “I told you I didn’t want her knowing!” “And even though I can see your point, Vicky, it’s not right making your mother suffer like that,” Kelvin said. Suddenly his mother appeared behind him. “No, it is not,” she snapped. “You have never been a mother and I pity your children if you have that attitude when you decide to have children. If Kelvin did that to me, I’d give him a clout!” Vicky looked at her boyfriend’s mother. “And what the hell has it got to do with you?” “I beg your pardon?” “Don’t speak to my mum like that, Vicky!” Kelvin snapped angrily. “She has been bloody good to you, letting you stay.” He hated anyone picking on his parent’s and was very protective of them. “Let me tell you something, little Miss, I took you in when Kelvin asked. This is my house. You are no longer welcome. Now pack your bags and piss off back home!” “You are throwing me out? Why?” “Why? Why? I will tell you why. Because I do not like you, your family does not like you, but most of all, my son doesn’t like you!” Vicky looked horrified. “Is that true, Kelvin?”

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He looked at her and nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s over between us.” Vicky burst into tears and ran upstairs to collect her things. As she did so, she noticed a framed photo of her and Kelvin on the bedside table. She picked it up and threw it across the room towards the wall, then screamed “Arrrggghhhh!” She closed the suitcase, having trouble with the clip locks because of her impatience and anger. Finally, it closed, she grabbed the handle and struggled downstairs. The door was already open for her. “I’m sorry, Vicky,” Kelvin said sympathetically as he watched her walk up the steps. She stopped and turned around. “Save it,” she replied. “Say it to someone who will actually appreciate the fact that you are shit in bed!” Kelvin’s mother slammed the front door shut so neither her nor her son could hear any more abuse. Vicky walked up to the junction of Harewood Crescent and Montacute Avenue and sat on the wall crying. What was she going to do? She could swallow her pride and go home. There was going to be no way for her to convince Kelvin to take her back. What a mess, she thought. What a damn mess. She had alienated most people being the person she was. Now she had no one. She still had her key for her Mum’s house. Mum would always welcome her back. But Rachel and Stephen just hated her. Would she swallow her pride and hide the animosity that may surface because of her father being held on remand? She could always stay in her bedroom when she was there. She grabbed her suitcase in one hand and her bag in the other and started heading home. As she got

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A Dish Best Served Cold nearer, she noticed a Police Car parked nearby, behind her Mum’s car. As she approached the steps, the two officers were coming out of the front door. One of them saw her struggling with the suitcase and ran up the steps to help her. “Here, let me get that for you,” he said with a smile but noticing that she had been crying. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned for the tears. Someone who cared, she thought. “Yes, it’s just been a very bad day.” The young PC walked her to the door and then said, “Bye then. Take care.” As he went up to the Police Car, Vicky turned to face her incredibly surprised mother stood in the doorway. “The wanderer returns,” she said sternly. “And why do we have the honour of your presence?” Vicky started to cry again, hoping for some sympathy from her mother. “Me and Kelvin have split up,” she sobbed. “Don’t be mad at me, Mum. I’m sorry.” “Would you have come home if you hadn’t split up?” Katie asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from her daughter’s lips. Before Vicky could answer, Rachel stepped out from behind the dark hallway and snapped, “Of course she would not have, Mum! It’s obvious.” “Shush, Rachel. I want to hear it from the horse’s mouth,” Katie said, as she felt herself burning with fury inside. “Come on, Vicky, I want to hear your side.” Vicky looked at her. It was a look of some hate, but Katie expected that after the news she had just been given by the Police. “I’m waiting.”

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“No,” Vicky replied, softly but thoughtfully, knowing that Kelvin had already been down speaking to her mother. “Do you think that you deserve to be let in the house again?” Katie asked her questionably. Vicky started to cry again. “Mum, I’ve got nowhere to go. You are my Mum.” “Then try treating her like your Mum then!” Rachel snapped, intercepting her mother’s reply but feeling good about doing so. “You are bloody unbelievable, Vicky Bishop! You tell Mum that your precious Dad didn’t attempt to rape her, call it an incident, indicate she was as much to blame, and you expect to be welcomed back in this household with open arms?” Rachel shook her head. “Unbelievable!” “Mum, please,” Vicky begged. “Okay, Vicky. I wouldn’t see you on the street, but here’s the deal.” Before she could finish, Rachel stepped in again. “Mum, you are not really considering letting her back in after she treated you so badly, are you?” Rachel was fuming, a product of her fiery temper that escalated from Mum’s side of the family, as most of them were auburn or ginger. Hot heads, as her Mum would call them. Katie raised her finger indicating for Rachel to shut up. “This is how it is going to be. Both of you, listen.” The two girls nodded whilst Rachel began to stare at her sister. “Vicky, you can come back to stay. But you have a job now, so I think in the long run, it would be best for everyone, including me, if you found a place of your own.”

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Vicky looked flabbergasted. Her Mum was not standing by her anymore. She had, indirectly, told her that her own daughter was not welcome. “But ….” “You are disruptive to everyone here, Vicky. It is not good for anyone. Especially as Stephen has been ill and hopefully will be home in the next few days. I do not want him upset by your antics. Come in for now, but I want you looking for a place to live!” Katie stepped sideways for her to come in. “Rachel, whilst Vicky is here, give her some space. I do not want any more arguments. Understand?” Rachel nodded. “Vicky, do you understand?” “Yes,” she replied before she went up the stairs to her bedroom, dumped her case and bag on the floor, crashed on her bed with her head in the pillow, and started crying and sobbing once more. In a short amount of time, she had cried herself to sleep. Rachel and her mother went into the living room. The dim bulb provided what light they needed as the coal fire burned brighter filling the large room not only with heat but orange light reflecting off the windows. “Well,” Rachel said. “That was a shock. I thought you were going to take her back full stop.” Katie plonked herself in her chair. The activities of the past week had really tired her out somewhat. She had been given special leave from her work which was simple as she worked at Freedom Fields Hospital where Stephen was being looked after. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Well, I think what I said might shock her into realising that she is at an age when she can handle her own life. She doesn’t need me around her, that has been proven by her moving in with Kelvin for a few days.”

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“I can’t believe they have split up. I used to call them Rigi Mortis and Clinging Ivy, they were so close.” Rachel sat and wondered why they had parted. It had to be something Vicky had done surely. “They were too young for anything serious in any case.” “Mum, she is twenty-three.” Rachel replied, amazed that her Mum was thinking that. “I’ve known people who have had babies by the age of twenty.” Katie smiled. Yes, she thought. She was one of them. David was born in 1954 when she was nineteen. Her and Michael weren’t even married at the time, but their parents kept on at them and six months after David was born, they tied the knot, although it was pretty hard finding a church with a vicar that would actually marry them as they had a child out of wedlock. In the end, the Church at Eggbuckland, where they grew up as children, agreed to hold the ceremony. “She needs to put her career first and so do you.” “I am trying. Working in the Solicitors Office is quite good. Plenty of room for promotion if it comes my way.” Katie appeared as though she were about to doze off. Her speech became sleepy and slurred. “Good. Just work hard and keep your nose clean.” Suddenly, her head fell to the left, and she was out for the count.

The prison doors slammed shut behind him. Michael could not believe that he had not been granted bail. He did want to say that he was looking forward to the rest, but he had heard that it was hard graft in Channing’s

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Wood. He began to wonder just what sentence he would have got if he had put in a guilty plea. He could have saved all this, but his Solicitor advised him to put in the opposite, a not guilty plea. He looked at the small cell. Walls made of concrete blocks covered in yellow paint. “How welcoming,” he said aloud. There was a window with metal bars outside to prevent escape, a urinal, and a wash basin. He sat down on the edge of the bed and fell backwards putting his hands behind his head before it hit the pillow. The bed was hard, the pillows were hard, the mattress was hard. Well, he did not expect the luxury of the Ritz, did he? Michael had told himself that he was not going to get close to any of the other prisoners. They would all claim to be innocent, just as he is claiming. But one wrong move and he could find himself back in court and the suspended sentence reinstated. He would just keep himself to himself. That was the best way, he thought. Most of the inmates here were here for resettlement training or remand like himself. He had time now to think about where it all went wrong. David, not getting help with the bereavement, drinking too much, not getting help with the alcohol problem. Where should it have stopped, he thought to himself. He wishes he had not hit out at Katie. She was a good woman, and at one point they really loved each other. They had the best life, the friends, and he had a good job. He had her and she always made sure his clothes were ironed and dinner was on the table every night. He wished it could go back to how it was back in 1968. But he knew that it could never be. Katie had

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A Dish Best Served Cold fallen out of love with him, had divorced him, and would never let him into her life again. Or would she? He had hit her, but it was the drink that made him try and have sex with her, and he did not get extremely far as she had hit him. The first time in their marriage that he had raised a hand to her, and she had struck him. The last time as well. Tomorrow, he would use his telephone card to call Val and tell her where he was just in case, she was wondering why he had not been around. Katie never had a telephone, but even if she did have one, he would not be allowed to contact her as it would be counted as interfering with a witness. Perhaps his daughter would try and convince her mother not to go further with the accusation? The small hatch in the door opened, and the Prison Officer passed him a tray with some food on it. “That’s all I could get,” he said, pointing to the sandwiches and crisps on the tray. Michael looked at the sandwich. “Ham salad. My favourite. Thank you.” “That’s ok. Try and get some sleep. The first few days are always the worse.” Michael nodded towards the officer as he closed the hatch. He heard the ‘Lights out’ command from the loudspeaker and quickly scoffed his food but saved the packet of crisps. He was not a fan of salt and vinegar crisps. But beggars could not be choosers, especially in prison.

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Chapter 9

Think of life. Who prepares you for it? Youngsters go through the lack of morals that their parents and family possess, or do not possess as the case might be. The child, as innocent as can be, goes through the family rigmarole which produces fights, marriage break ups, divorce, disagreements over the contents of a will, affairs. Some family members land up not speaking to each other in a civil manner for decades. Some never speak at all for the rest of their lives. Children will always see what their parents do as what they can do when they are slightly older. Angry, violent parents can pass on the trait and emotion of anger and violence to their young ones, who think what they are doing is the norm. Mum and Dad did it, so why shouldn’t they? Psychiatrists speculate about the chance of a child being harmed by the parent’s actions later in life. If they do not play with you when you are young, or show love and affection, then in theory, you will do the same as your parents when you have children.

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Life can hurt you just like falling on a knife but with the help of those around you, you have to decide if you have the strength to get back up and heal the wound. But if those around you do not or will not help you, then you have your head in your hands and the weight of the world on your shoulders. Life can kick you at any time, it does not discriminate. Young, old, it does not care. Sometimes all you need to do is listen to a child to find out what is wrong, what is going on in their little minds. Children can speak a different language at times and to decipher what they are saying sometimes takes skill, understanding and love from a person that really cares. Anyone can be a parent, but it takes a special kind of person to be a Mum or Dad. That child deserves to know the truth about things that have happened in life that are causing the problems they see, at an age when they are beginning to understand life.

The attempted rape trial collapsed. Michael Bishop was a free man because the jury could not come to a majority verdict. Seven jurors thought he was guilty, four not guilty and one abstained. Crown prosecutors either had to retrial or drop the case. They chose the latter. Michael’s ‘New Life’ girlfriend stood by him all the way and attended every day in the Crown Court to show her support. She also gave character witness to exclaim that he had never ever been violent toward her or her children, and not once attempted to force her to have sex. Val grabbed Michael’s arm as they strolled out of the court like winners of the jackpot in a bingo

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A Dish Best Served Cold hall. They walked past Katie, but did not say a word, merely put on that false sarcastic smile to indicate that they had won, Michael was vindicated. Vicky was ecstatic about the verdict, as much as her father. She wanted to see her sister and shout ‘I told you so’ to her face but chose not to because of the conditions her mother had put on her for staying in the family home. She did not want to be homeless quite yet, and she had a feeling that her mother was going to change her mind about her moving out in any case. As her father walked towards her, she reached out for a fatherly hug. There was none coming. He just smiled at the girl who had always stood beside him, and then ignored her. Her face dropped, the smile turned into an angry look, and she shook her head as a tear came to her eye. Katie just did not care and was only glad that it was all over because now she could just move on with her life. She knew Michael had received the suspended sentence for the assault and thought that this was enough to punish him for his crimes. He would forever have a criminal record, and this would restrict his future. Her daughter Rachel, who didn’t attend the verdict, vowed never to speak to her father again and if she ever saw him, told Katie that she would give him a piece of her mind and a kick where the sun doesn’t shine. She somehow guessed after watching her ex walk right past Vicky, that he would not want any contact with any of his children, even Stephen. She would need to explain this to him, but not now, when he was better and more relaxed. There is never a good time to tell a boy that his father does not want him.

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Four weeks went by after the trial and Stephen was back home and attending school once again. The hospital could not find the reason for his collapse, so requested regular follow-up appointments with him. He firstly went in to see his favourite teacher. “Mr Tynan?” He poked his head around the classroom door. “Young Bishop, come in!” Stephen walked into the empty classroom and smiled at the Mathematics teacher. “I would just like to say thank you for what you did when I blacked out, Sir.” “That was no problem. How are you feeling, anyway?” Stephen looked at him, his eyes glazed as though he was tired. “I’m alright, but I have to take these tablets every morning which make me dopey.” Tom Tynan smiled cheekily and gave Stephen a friendly punch. “No change there then!” The boy found it funny and replied, “Thank you, Sir. Much appreciated!” “My pleasure. Do they know what caused it yet? “No, Sir. Not yet. Mum says I have to go back for more tests and the result of others.” Stephen appeared happy, tired but fed up with all that had happened. “Well, let us hope they find what was wrong, for your sake. They are pretty amazing those Doctors and Nurses.” Tom Tynan proceeded to lift his left trouser leg where it showed a huge scar showed on his calf muscle. “They mended me!” “Wow!” Stephen replied staring at the scar. “How did you get that, Sir?”

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“I would like to say that I survived the fight with the great white shark, but I would be telling porkies.” He laughed, paused and then continued, “Rugby. Bad tackle. Hazards of the game.” He lowered his trouser leg. Stephen smiled and then stood up. “I had better go. First lesson is history with Mr Jenkins.” “Ouch!” Tom said jokingly. “Good luck!” He watched the boy leave and just as he was about to go out the door, shouted, “Oh, Bishop? If you need help catching up on the last four weeks with your mathematics, I am here after school every day for about half an hour. Just come to see me.” “I will, Sir. Thank you.” Stephen left. He liked Mr Tynan. He had met him on the first day and thought he was funny. He looked at his watch and realised that he had to go up to the top floor and the bell had already rang whilst he was in with Mr Tynan. He had already been told to take it easy to reduce the possibility of having another blackout, so he eased his way up the stairs because there were no lifts in this ancient pre- 1900’s building. Finally, he reached the second floor and walked into the classroom. Mr Jenkins, the history teacher, looked at the late attendee. “Bishop! Good to see you could join us! You are late! My lesson starts at 08:45!” “Sorry, Sir.” “I will let you off this time. But in future, it is instant detention unless you have a particularly good reason. Take a seat!” Stephen began to realise why Mr Tynan had said, ‘Good Luck’ to him now. He looked around the classroom and saw his friend Mark Dawe, so went over

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A Dish Best Served Cold to sit beside him, as he smiled showing he was glad to be back. Harry Jenkins, a tall, thin man, bearded but with little hair on top of his head was known throughout the school, both pupils and teachers alike, to be extremely strict. Arrive on time, do your homework, and submit it on time. He loved to hand out detentions just like a traffic warden liked to hand out parking fines. The staff used to joke that he was on commission from the Headmaster for the number of detentions he could hand out in a day. Mr Jenkins was also one of the games teachers, and the first-year rugby team coach. Stephen knew that the two of them were never going to get on, he could feel it in his bones. Only time would tell.

Katie had to tell her son that his father did not want him. He had returned home from school and was upstairs getting changed out his school clothes. Minutes later, he came running down. “Mum, can I go out to play?” he asked excitingly, already with one foot out of the door and ready to run. Katie caught him just in time. “Stephen, I need to talk to you for a moment. Come in and sit down.” Stephen’s mood changed. “Have I done something wrong?” “No, love. Not at all.” She patted the cushion on the sofa seat next to her indicating for him to sit down beside her, which he did with a worried look on his face. When was a good time to tell him? Would it be better coming from Rachel? No. This would be better coming from his parent rather than his sister. “Hurry up then Mum. I want to go over Martin’s.”

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Katie took a deep breath. “How was school today?” Stephen screwed his face up. “Like school is every day. Can’t wait to come home!” Katie wished that she didn’t ask. “Right. Your Dad.” Stephen suddenly got excited, his eyes lighting up and a smile going across his face. “Is he here?” he asked, looking around. “No. No, Stephen he isn’t.” Mum choked back her words, wishing that she had better news for her boy but realising that she had to disappoint him once more. She watched his face drop and his excitement turn into emotion. “He is never going to be around. He does not want to see any of you. Neither you, Rachel or Vicky.” “Why?” Stephen asked. “He is my Dad. I need him to help me.” The boy started to cry. “I want my Dad!” he sobbed as his mother pulled him into her chest. “I know, baby boy. I know this is hard to take in, but your father is never going to be here for you. He has not been in the previous years, and now he has a new family, a new life. He doesn’t want any of us around.” Stephen rubbed his eyes, looked at his mother and demanded, “Take me to him. Please take me to him. If I speak to him, we can watch the sport again together on Saturdays whilst you go into the town.” “It’s not going to happen,” Mum said sternly as she grabbed both his upper arms to get his attention. She stared into his eyes and then repeated in a calmer voice, “It’s not going to happen. Believe me. Your Dad is not how you remember him.”

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“Other boys in school have their Dads. Why can’t I? All I hear is Dad this and Dad that. ‘Oh, my Dad will be at the football or rugby game.’ Me? I tell them my Dad does not live with us anymore. Now I will have to say he will never come to any of my school activities, because he doesn’t want me.” He started sobbing again, this time more deeply inside and he returned to his mother’s embrace for comfort. Katie rubbed her son’s hair, trying to help him stop the sobbing, but it was just having the opposite effect and making it worse. “It will be alright,” Katie reassured him. “We have each other, don’t we?” She knew that every boy in the land wanted a father, to teach him about life. Mothers were good, but a poor substitute as a beer partner when you are older, or someone to go and watch a football game with and Mums tend not to know the rules and ask too many questions. She was also hoping that this would be a break, especially for Stephen, from all the problems at home which her ex-husband was causing. She wanted to give him a slap for rejecting his own children, but that would only make her the same as him. “Why doesn’t he want me, Mum? What have I done?” Stephen hid his face in his mother’s lap, and she had difficulty hearing him at first. “You have done nothing wrong, young man! Do not go thinking that. It is your father who is in the wrong here, not you.” She could not believe the pressure that Michael’s selfish pig-headedness was causing to his own son. It was hurting him inside. She could see and feel it. In the end, would he forgive his father? That would be up to him, but she could not see it at this moment in time.

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Suddenly Stephen jumped up off his mother’s lap, wiped his eyes and then asked, “Can I go out? I want to see Martin.” “As long as you are okay? I don’t want you getting upset when you are out.” “No. I’m fine now.” Stephen knew he was not fine. He was angry, annoyed, and felt a sense of rejection deep within him. He just did not want to show it to his mother. He had been the ‘Man’ of the house for a long time now. Even Uncle Richard had said the he had to look after his Mum because she needed looking after. He could not show a weakness to anyone. But rejection is the most common emotional wound that a child can feel, and deep inside of him, he was hurting. “Go on then. Out you go.” His dreams had been shattered. He had it in his head that Dad was going to come back home, and everything was going to be like it was before. He was naïve if anything, but that was because of his immaturity. Somewhere deep inside though, his self- conscious expected it but just did not tell him. He got to the top of the steps and just sat on the wall bordering the front garden. He sat there, staring into nothingness, with evil thoughts going through his mind. He did not see the boy approaching from the right- hand side of him. “Bishop,” the voice said. Stephen heard him but did not want to think it was really Nigel Dodd. He turned and looked at the bully. “Nigel Dodd. Just what do we owe the pleasure of you being in this neighbourhood?”

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“Well, we are neighbours. My family has moved into the Waterman’s old place at number 15 just across the road.” Stephen’s anger was already growing because of his father’s actions. But after months of bullying at Brake Farm, Nigel had become his nemesis. “Great,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “Well, just keep away from me.” “Why? Your sister going to fight your battles again?” He asked, looking down towards Stephen’s house. “I bet she is not even in.” Stephen saw Martin in the corner of his eye coming across the road towards them and walking up the small hill. “Look, I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. Let us leave it at that. But believe me, I tend to fight back these days. I’m not such an easy target.” Martin joined him on the wall, made himself comfortable and then stared at the intruder. “Everything Okay, mate?” he asked, concerned at the stance that Nigel was taking. “Martin. This is the boy who used to beat me up, take my money and joke about my family that I told you about. From Brake Farm school.” “Oh,” said Martin. “No friends to back you up?” He looked around, making a strange face to indicate sarcasm. He remembered Stephen had told him that there used to be three of them. “I suggest that you stay away. We are never going to be friends, believe me, and by the time we have spread the word, you won’t be welcome around here.” He could see the look on Nigel’s face and hear his brain making his decide what to do.

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Stephen stood up. Nigel looked at him realising he was slightly bigger and taller than he was from the bullying days. They stared at each other, sizing each other up as though there was going to be a fight. As Nigel realised, he was outnumbered, he turned and went to walk away. Stephen shouted, “Hey, Doddy!” which made Nigel turn back around to face the two boys. Stephen was ready for him and planted his foot right between the boy’s legs. Nigel fell to the ground, curling up in manly pain. “Remember this, Doddy? Welcome to the neighbourhood! Now stay the fuck away from me!” Martin shouted out with laughter. “I bet that hurt! Ha. Nothing better than a kick in the bollocks to welcome you!” He hugged Stephen quickly. “Come on mate, let’s get out of here!” The two of them ran in the direction of the park, laughing as they joyed in their conquer of Nigel. “Taught him a lesson,” Stephen said. “Ha, you sure did. I have never seen you like that before. I used to think that you would get me for nicking your apples.” Martin patted his mate on the back. “They were only apples.” Stephen replied. “Yes, but you just destroyed Nigel’s,” he said, still excited at the fracas and his normally timid mates surprise action. “He won’t live that down! I did not even have to join in! Mohammed Ali or what?” Both boys continued to laugh as they walked up the street and into the park, but back at Stephen’s home things were a bit more heated. Nigel had managed to stagger home to his mother, who felt it was her duty to sort things out. She banged on the door

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A Dish Best Served Cold fiercely and waited for the reply. Katie answered the loud noise, and immediately saw the rough looking hulk of a woman stood on her doorstep, looking like she was steaming from the top of her head and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. “Yes? What can I do for you?” Katie asked, somehow predicting that this was going to be trouble. “Your boy just kicked my Nigel in the balls! Fucking little shit! Where is he?” She tried to look to see if he was in the house or standing behind his mother. Katie smirked. She was not in the mood for this after the antics of Stephens father. “Well if Stephen did that, then your lad must have deserved it!” She then noticed Rachel coming down the steps and hoped that her fiery mood did not intervene. “Your kids are out of control. Nigel even told me that your daughter assaulted him at his school.” Mrs Dodd wondered who the girl was that had just brushed past Stephen’s mother. “Perhaps Social Services need to know that you can’t control them.” “Well you can ask her yourself,” Katie snapped. “Rachel? This lady would like a word. She wants to know if you assaulted her son at school.” Rachel turned around and saw Nigel Dodd. “What that little prat? Too right. He was bullying my brother, stealing his dinner money and bus fare, and taking the piss of his family. He deserved everything he got!” Katie smiled. “And you say my kids are out of control? Splinter, plank comes to mind!” “Well if your fucking son touches my boy again, he will have to answer to me!” Mrs Dodd replied,

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A Dish Best Served Cold turning around, and walking up the steps. “Come on Nigel. Move your fucking arse!” “Charming,” Rachel said, shouting up and increasing her volume as the woman got to the top of the garden “It’s no wonder why her son is such a delinquent! If anyone needs a visit from Social Services, it’s you!” Katie waited until the Dodd’s were out of sight. “Stephen is getting brave. Nothing like a good kick in the balls as payback.” “Good on him.” Rachel tried to make light of the situation by attempting to go up the stairs before turning and saying, “He is growing up at last. That little shit was the one that was killing Stephen inside at Brake Farm. The one Inspector Mercer had to give me a warning about. Stephen has gone through enough recently and could do without this. But by the looks of it he has it sorted.” “I told him tonight about his father.” Rachel stopped after another stair. “How did he take it? She was now concerned about her brother. Violence had never been his thing, yet now she knew the reason why he had acted in the way he did towards Nigel Dodd. Unspent frustration. “At first he couldn’t stop crying,” her mother responded. “Then suddenly he asked if he could go over and see Martin.” “Well you know what them two are like. Joined at the hip.” “I know. But it was just the sudden change in temperament. It was like suddenly he had accepted the fact and didn’t care.” Katie was herself concerned at

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A Dish Best Served Cold the boy’s state. She was also shocked that Stephen had done something totally out of character. “He’s growing up, Mum. He is learning to defend himself. God knows what all these years without his dad around has done to him, and that is no fault of yours. It must be awful for him.” Rachel tried to imagine what was going through the little boy’s mind after being told that his father did not want him. She had seen him grow up from birth, been there for him, protected him and been his parent, which was more that Michael Bishop had been. “He will be alright. I’m going up to get changed.” “Okay, love,” Katie said.

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Chapter 10

Can you really love someone who hasn’t been in your life? It is said that no matter how badly you treat a child as a parent, they will still love you. Just how far do you have to go to change a child’s view of you? Our decisions to do something, even at the spur of the moment can, and do, not only shape our lives, but the lives of others, including our children, as well. For example, if you choose to hit your child, that starts a line of actions. The child goes to school, the teacher sees any bruising, the teacher calls Social Services who temporarily take that child into their care, they visit the parents, the Police are called, and so on. Will that child still love you? Of course. You are their mother or father. Will they remember it? Of course. Will they follow in your footsteps and think it is okay to hit their children in future years? Who knows the answer? Many emotions can affect actions. Bullies always take their actions out on people who are weaker than them, who have low self-esteem and looking for acceptance. They could be grieving for a member of

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A Dish Best Served Cold the family or a friend. So, are the bullies the product of a bad childhood and are they also looking for acceptance and love? Can someone who is or was being bullied turn into the bully themselves? Psychologists say that in most cases, serial killers are anti-social. But what has made them this way? Is life the reason why the world is so devious? At what point does the brain say, ‘Hit that child’ or ‘Kill that person’? Most of all, why? Our home life plays a big part. Stress from things like your family having money worries, or your parents separating can influence a child. But not many people think a child can stress. Not having the nice things or the holidays associated with a family having a low- income household can cause the child to think he or she is not as good as the children who do. Families need to teach them the value of life and make them appreciate what they do have. Do not blame your parents for what they have not given you. They have given you the most valuable thing in the world. Life.

It was 1978. Stephen had been struggling at school, mainly because he was constantly thinking of his brother, David, and his father’s rejection which had a major effect on him and the way he lived his life. He could not concentrate on other things and found it hard being a twelve-year-old boy. He also had not made the biggest of impact with some of the teachers, especially Mr Jenkins. Regent High School was renowned to be a sporting school and had won awards since it opened, in rugby, football, and athletics throughout the county schools championships. Games afternoons were Wednesday afternoons for the first year’s pupils.

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Stephen just could not be bothered and soon found himself on the end of Mr Jenkin’s discipline when he forgot to pack his shorts and could not compete in the afternoons cross country run around Saltram Park. It wasn’t the first detention for Stephen. Now if you showed promise, you got in the respective team of the sport that you looked good. Stephen did not know it, but he was looking good at rugby. He had speed and was a good size for a rugby player. Mr Jenkins wanted him to be the hooker for the first-year school team. He was not interested. He did not believe in after school activities because he just wanted to get home and see his Mum, Rachel, and his best friend Martin, or even watch Scooby-Doo on the television. His friend Mark Dawe stood looking at the notice board in the school opposite the cloakroom where Stephen had collapsed. “Hey,” he said as his mate approached him. “Your name is on the team sheet for the rugby team. Looks like you will be playing for the school.” “I don’t like rugby,” he said stopping and looking at the notice board and reading all the information about where and when the team had to meet. “I’m not doing that. It’s after school finishes.” “You’ll get in trouble with Jenkins,” Mark said, looking at his school pal. “But you do not care, do you?” “My Mum says I don’t have to play. That prat gave me a detention anyway. No. No way. You can take my place if you want,” he replied jokingly, knowing the chances of Mark playing rugby for the school were as much as Mr Jenkins being a kind teacher.

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“Me?” Mark answered back, astonished. “I’m a cricketer. I would not know what to do with a rugby ball. But you are brilliant on games days. The other teachers call you Speedy Gonzalez and laugh at your little legs running along.” “I’m not playing for Jenkins. No way. That man hates me.”

Three days later, the team was supposed to meet at the notice boards after school to get the minibus to the other school, Devonport High, for the Game. Stephen had already gone home. He was not playing. Mr Jenkins was fuming, and after the weekend had passed and the history lesson had finished on the Monday morning, he asked Stephen to stay behind after his class. “You have been put in Headmasters Detention for letting the school down,” He told the boy. “Headmasters detention is two hours long, not one. Hopefully, it will teach you a lesson.” He seemed pleased with himself that he had given the stronger punishment to a boy. Stephen stared at him psychotically, somewhat speechless at first as he was giving some thought to answering the teacher back without getting punished further for insubordination. But then, calmly, he said, “I don’t want to play rugby, and I don’t want to play for you. My Mum says I don’t have to play if I don’t want to because its after school!” “Your mother is not a pupil at this school! You will do as you are told Bishop! If I say you will play for the school rugby team, you will attend!” Mr Jenkins

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A Dish Best Served Cold started to fume again, going red in the face and anger showing in his eyes. Stephen grabbed his school bag. “I’m not playing! My Mum says no. You can huff and puff all you like, but I will never be at any games.” With that, for which he seemed immensely proud of himself for standing against the tyranny of the school, he ran out of the classroom, down the many flights of stairs, and out of the school main door. “Bishop! Get back here, now!” Too late. He was gone.

He needed peace, and he knew exactly where to get it. He headed towards Efford Cemetery where his brother was buried. He was going to tell him about this teacher. David would listen. David always listened. Stephen always talked to him before he went to bed every night, and quite often David would talk back to him. In his head he would hear him. He sometimes thought that God had sent David’s spirit back to protect him. Sometimes he even thought that David may still be alive, somewhere in the clouds, looking down on him. He quickly walked in the direction of Laira towards the quiet place that he yearned for to ease the stress of the day.

Back at the school, Mr Jenkins searched the corridors and looked in empty classrooms for Stephen, then went to the classroom where his next lesson was being held. “Apologies for interrupting Geoff. But have you seen Stephen Bishop?” “No, I haven’t,” Geoff Floyd replied. “He is supposed to be here for R E. But, no. No sign of him.”

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Mr Jenkins sighed loudly. “He ran off whilst I was asking him why he didn’t attend the rugby match. It is okay. I will search for him.” He closed the door and left the lesson, still checking each individual classroom without success. It was time to inform the Headmaster that they may have a missing child, he thought. He walked right past his secretary and knocked on his door waiting impatiently for a reply. “Come in,” Dr Rowe called, as Mr Jenkins entered the room. “Harry, what can I do for you?” “We have a bit of a problem. Stephen Bishop has gone missing.” Harry Jenkins replied concerningly. “I’ve searched the classrooms and he isn’t anywhere.” “Any idea what is wrong with him?” Dr Rowe asked, guessing the answer as he knew Harry Jenkins strictness as a teacher. “He ran off when I was disciplining him for not turning up for the school’s rugby match. I gave him Headmasters detention for letting the school down.” Harry Jenkins was thinking of his next move to try and find the boy. “Shall we arrange another search?” “Yes,” Dr Rowe replied. “And if he doesn’t materialise then, I will call his emergency contact and if necessary, the Police.” The two of them searched and searched the school from top to bottom, being joined in the search by the prefects and some other teachers who had a free period. An hour later, Dr Rowe had to make good on his promise and get his secretary to call the number they had listed in the school records as emergency contact. He didn’t really want for it to go this far, but he had no choice under the circumstances. Rachel was in work at the time at the Solicitors when she was handed the telephone. The lucky thing

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A Dish Best Served Cold was that Stephen’s school was about 200 yards from her offices at the rear of the solicitors. She told the secretary that she would be straight over to the school, which, within minutes she was, finding her way up to the Secretary’s office on the first floor. Dr Rowe was already in there. “Hello,” Rachel said, worriedly. “I am Stephen Bishops sister. You called me? Something about Stephen going missing?” Dr Rowe offered out his hand to shake. An older man, just a bit taller than Rachel’s mother, and had the look of a mad professor as he always wore his Headmasters black gown around the school. He was also a genius mathematician. “Miss Bishop. I am Dr Rowe, the Headmaster. Yes, I am afraid Stephen ran away from his teacher when he was giving him a detention. We have searched the whole school, and announced it on the loudspeaker system, but he is not here. We think he may have left the premises.” “Left the premises? He could be anywhere!” Rachel’s face filled with expressions of both anger and worry. “Has anyone searched the surrounding streets?” “Not yet,” the Headmaster answered. “We didn’t think he would leave the school. We just thought he was hiding away from Mr Jenkins.” Rachel looked up as soon as the name was mentioned. “Oh yes, he has told me about Mr Jenkins. Is that who was giving him the detention?” “Yes, it was.” “What for this time? Breathing?” Rachel enquired sarcastically. “I’ve heard he and Stephen just

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A Dish Best Served Cold don’t hit it off and this Mr Jenkins picks on him for absolutely anything.” “That is a conversation for another time, Miss Bishop. Our priority now must be finding your brother safely.” The Headmaster turned to his secretary. “Can you see who has a free period teaching wise?” “Yes, Headmaster.” “If he has gone out of School, do you think he would go home?” Dr Rowe asked inquisitively, hoping for a positive answer. “Or is there a family member he might run to?” Rachel shook her head. “No, he doesn’t have much to do with people, not even family. There is his best friend Martin, but I guess he himself will be at school.” She gave it some deep thought. “Wait. I think I know where he could have gone. He likes going to the cemetery to see his brother David. He likes the peace and quiet up there. That is one possibility.” “I’ll take you up there,” Dr Rowe said, already removing his gown and searching for his car keys in his pocket.

Stephen arrived at the cemetery. It was very peaceful there and he could hear the birds singing in the trees which he found very soothing to his ears. He walked down to where his brother was buried and sat down on the grass beside the grave. Then he started talking to his brother as though David was sat beside him, at times having a full-scale conversation with him which was getting him noticed by people who were also visiting their loved one’s graves. But he carried on, oblivious to the looks of the visitors. He looked like he was removing any sign of anger within him, at times

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A Dish Best Served Cold shouting, other times relaxed, as though his brother had told him to be quiet. He reached into his bag and took out his pencil case. Then he removed a pair of scissors and started to cut the long grass around his brother’s grave. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you any flowers,” he said. “I just came up here to keep you company. It must be lonely sometimes for you. It is lonely for me. I wish you were alive. We could go into Yeo’s and Spooner’s again with Phil. Home just isn’t the same without you.” Stephen laid down on top of the grave. He was tired, and his eyes were heavy and just wanted to close. “I miss you so much.” Dr Rowe drove into the entrance of the cemetery and Rachel directed him to the right place, so he drove around the crematorium and down the single- track road. “Just here on the left,” she said trying to see her Brother’s grave up on the right-hand side. At first, she could not see him, so she thought that her hunch may have been wrong, or she was too late, and he had gone. She exited the car and looked up in the direction of the grave again. Someone was there, laying down. She knew it was her brother because that is what he did every time he came up here with her and their mum. “There he is,” she called. “Over there.” The Headmaster turned the engine off and secured the car. “I will stay in the car,” he announced. “He probably needs a familiar face.” Rachel walked up the path, completely oblivious to her brother, and as she approached him, she could hear his voice, so she listened to the conversation Stephen was having with the grave. She gasped at what she was hearing. He was speaking to his brother, she was sure of it, even answering as though David

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A Dish Best Served Cold was replying to him. She was worried by what she was hearing. Should she say anything or let him know she was there and pretend she had not heard anything? He was still talking, and she was still listening as she stepped forward and the crackle of the twigs under her feet alerted the boy, who became nervous. “Hello Stephen. What are you doing here, babes? I had the school telephone me to say you had run away.” Stephen became nervous but nodded and went red faced with guilt. At first, he kept silent, flustered that someone had tracked him down so easily and ruined his time with his Brother. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and then fully to a sitting position, wondering if Rachel had heard anything. His conversations with his brother were his to hear and only his. They were private. How long had she been stood there? “Well?” Rachel asked seriously, her face showing her concern, although not anger. She was concerned for her brother’s welfare, especially after what she had heard. Stephen did not maintain eye contact with her but turned his head to look at the gravestone. “I got annoyed with the teacher. I needed to come somewhere peaceful.” He was hearing voices again, but he did not want to tell her that part, although usually, he and Rachel told each other everything. Even down to which boys she liked and which ones she did not. But he could not tell her this. She would think that he was mad. Or lying. One of the two, he thought to himself. No, some things are better kept secret David had told him.

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“You could have telephoned my office. I gave you the number just in case.” “I know,” Stephen retorted back at her. “I just had to get away from everyone. That teacher hates me. I cannot do anything right. He gives me detentions for anything.” “Listen. Your Headmaster is waiting down there in the car for us. Why don’t you and I go home and talk about what happened?” Stephen panicked a little, looking down in the direction of the car, even though he could not see that far to catch any glimpse of Dr Rowe. “Can’t we get the bus?” He panicked with the stress showing in his voice. “I do not want to speak to anyone. Please, Rachel. Let us get the bus?” He got up on his feet and looked like he was about to run away again, rapidly, and consistently looking down at the car and back towards his sister. “Okay. Okay,” She said, holding her hand out to calm him. “We will get the bus, but I will have to tell your Headmaster. Give me two minutes. Okay? Stay there!” Stephen nodded. “Thank you,” he responded happily, as he watched his sister walk down towards the car. Then he turned to David’s grave and said, “There. I told you she was nice. Our sister. She looks after me.” He looked down towards the car again, and saw it driving away. Rachel had started walking back up the path. “I had better go now, David. I’ll come back another day. See you soon,” he whispered.

An hour later, Rachel and Stephen arrived home. On the bus, Stephen had been incredibly quiet, and

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Rachel didn’t disturb his silence. She didn’t bother him, only asking simple questions when they were nearing home like what he wanted for his dinner. She knew that her mum would have to be told about today, as the Headmaster said he would be in contact about a meeting with Stephen and his parents. As they went in the sitting room, they were surprised to see their mother sitting on the sofa. “You are home early, Mum,” Rachel said, looking at her watch. “So are you, and so is Stephen. What’s up?” Katie had phoned Rachel at work to ask her to pick up some vegetables on the way home but was told she had gone to pick up her brother. There are only a few reasons to pick up early from school; he had been taken ill, fighting or was injured. “Stephen has a disagreement with one of his teachers and ran off,” Rachel said. Stephen did not want to take all the blame, so immediately spoke up. “He gave me a two-hour Headmasters detention because I didn’t turn up for the school rugby team. But it was after school and I did not want to play. He always picks on me and gives me detentions.” “And he gave you a detention for that?” Katie starred at the boy. “You shouldn’t be doing anything like that in any case after your blackout. You haven’t had the all clear from the hospital yet!” “Mr Jenkins said if my name is on the board I have to attend.” Stephen countered. “I said I didn’t want to and then ran off.” “Right,” his mother replied concerningly. “We had better go and see the Headmaster as soon as.” If

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A Dish Best Served Cold there is one thing that Katie always did, that was stick up for her children. She was not having any fickle teacher bully her son.

The next day, Katie drove Stephen to school. He was very reluctant to go, because of the problems on the previous day. But Rachel decided she would tag along, also kill two birds with one stone and get a lift into work. Katie parked the car and the three of them walked up the front entrance steps. “Which floor is the Headmasters office on?” “The first,” Stephen answered, somewhat excited at the fact that his mother and Sister were there to stick up for him. “Come on, slow coaches!” he said as he raced up the three flights of stairs. He waited at the top as his mother and sister appeared. He then walked ahead to the Headmasters office, where they were met by the Secretary. “Can I help you?” she asked, somewhat shocked to see visitors as Dr Rowe had nothing in his diary. “Mrs Bishop to see the Headmaster,” Katie responded. “Do you have an appointment?” The secretary asked, continuing to look at the diary to check that she had not missed something. “When it comes down to a teacher bullying my son, I don’t think I need one!” Katie looked at the door that had the sign ‘Headmaster’ on. “This way, is it?” “You can’t go in there!” It was too late. Katie followed by Stephen and Rachel had already entered the office and closed the door behind them. The

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A Dish Best Served Cold headmaster, surprised that he had visitors, looked up from his desk. “Can I help you?” he asked, suddenly recognising Rachel and then seeing Stephen behind her. He got up and walked around the desk, offering his hand to the two females. “Miss Bishop. Nice to see you again. You must be Stephen’s mother at a guess?” “Yes I am.” “I was going to write to you actually, to ask you to come in and discuss Stephen’s little jaunt yesterday.” “Yes, Stephen told me about that. I suggest we get Mr Jenkins down here as well.” Stephen’s mother was not taking any prisoners as she prepared for her outburst. “That’s fine,” Dr Rowe responded as he pressed the intercom button to speak to his secretary. “Diana? Could you get Mr Jenkins down as soon as possible?” “Yes of course Dr Rowe,” the secretary said, getting up from her desk and approaching a passing prefect. They waited in near silence for Mr Jenkins arrival. Dr Rowe tried to break the ice. “Well I’m glad it all came right yesterday, and that Stephen was found safely. Strange place to run to, though. A Cemetery.” Mr Jenkins came through the door. “You wanted me, Dr Rowe?” “Yes Harry. This is Mrs Bishop, mother of Stephen, and Miss Bishop his sister.” Harry Jenkins shook their hands as courtesy. “And you know young Stephen.” The boy grimaced at his teacher. “Mr Jenkins. I believe you have a problem with my son?” Katie snapped at the teacher. “He comes

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A Dish Best Served Cold home in tears after having one of your lessons. The yesterday he runs away, and if it was not for his Sister guessing where he was, we might have not have found him or seen him again. Now why is that?” Harry Jenkins paused and tried to choose his words carefully. “I think there are two sides to every story, Mrs Bishop. We all like to believe our children.” “I do believe him,” Katie said, staring at the history teacher with angry eyes. “Yes, and so do I,” Rachel shouted. “I am the one that had to calm him down. He didn’t want to come back to this school because of you.” She took hold of her brother’s hand to give him the reassurance he needed. “All I did was reprimand him for not turning up for the school’s rugby match that he was listed to play for.” He looked at the Headmaster, and said directly to him, “It’s standard school policy, James.” “Don’t talk to us about Policy! My son has recently been hospitalised after collapsing and is currently still having more tests performed.” Harry Jenkins began to feel like he was being bullied now. He could not fit a word in and decided to let the woman vent her frustration and anger. Rachel jumped in. “And what if he doesn’t want to play rugby after school in any case? It is after school! Out of school hours! The school hours are 0825 to 1555.” Katie looked at the Headmaster and then back at the teacher. “You have no right to give him a two- hour detention for not turning up to something that is out of school hours, and that he shouldn’t be playing anyway because of his medical condition.”

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“I’m sorry, I didn’t know about his medical condition.” He turned once again trying to get support from the Headmaster. “James, I didn’t know.” “Stephen also told me yesterday that you are constantly bullying him and handing him detentions. Is that right?” Rachel slammed. She knew it was right, but she wanted to hear it from the teacher’s lips. “Well?” Harry Jenkins shook his head, bit his lip, and rolled his eyes. “I do not bully any of the children,” he said frustratingly. “I treat them all equally.” Dr Rowe attempted to back him up. “It sometimes appears to the child that it’s bullying because Mr Jenkins is a strict disciplinarian.” He thought he would try and calm things by speaking to Stephen directly. “Stephen, can I tell you that it is an honour for you to be chosen to play for the school. I know you are indisposed because of the medical situation. But please consider it when you are well.” Stephen shook his head. “I don’t like rugby.” He held back his tongue on the next statement in case it appeared rude. But he wanted to look at Mr Jenkins and say, ‘And I do not like you either!’, but he did not want to show up his Mum or Sister. Katie rubbed Stephen’s hair. “So, are we in agreement that no one has to play if it is out of school hours?” “That is correct,” Dr Rowe said. “And the Headmaster’s detention? “There isn’t going to be one,” Dr Rowe responded, looking up at Harry Jenkins, who was seriously looking for some back up from his Headmaster, but did not seem to be getting much.

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“You will get the most out of Stephen if you talk to him courteously. He will then respond to you in the same manner, and respect you a lot more, Mr Jenkins. Try it!” Katie looked at him one last time. “But if he comes home and complains that he is being bullied by you or any other teacher from this school again, it won’t be you I come to, Dr Rowe.” The Headteacher realised that the meeting was over and shook hands with both women. “Thank you for coming to see me,” he said, watching them leave. He then looked at Harry Jenkins. “You had better be a little more careful around that boy.” “I’m not giving him preferential treatment, James,” Harry replied. “You know me. I don’t single out one pupil for punishment.” “Yes, I do know you. Just cut the boy some slack for now.” Stephen said goodbye to his Mum and Sister and went up to his classroom. Rachel headed off to her workplace, and Mum got in her car and headed home. The day was just about to get worse. Katie drove up to her normal parking space under the lamppost right outside their house. She remembered her old Triumph Herald Estate. She loved that car naming it ‘Betsy’, it always started first time and was a beauty to drive. She used to park it in the same place at the Morris 1000 that she had now. One night, some drunks sped down the street in a stolen car and literally wrapped the Triumph around the lamppost after hitting it in the rear. The surreal thing about it was that the two of them just got out of what was a wreckage of a stolen vehicle, and only had minimal cuts and bruises. It was a shame because Katie loved the Triumph.

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She walked down the steps, looked in the living room window and noticed two people stood in her living room. One was Vicky, but she did not know who the other woman was. She opened the door with her key, placed her bag down and walked into the living room. “Hello, Vicky.” Suddenly her daughter rushed towards her, open arms demanding an embrace and she started to cry loudly. “What’s up, love?” The other woman walked over and introduced herself. “Hello Katie. I am Val. I know I am probably the last person that you want to see. But I am the bearer of bad news.” “Is it Michael?” Val nodded, and tears came to her eyes. “Yes. He died late last night after complaining of chest pains. The hospital said that he had an apse growing between his heart and lungs, probably caused by the alcohol. It moved and killed him outright.” “Oh no. I’m so sorry,” Katie said, still consoling her daughter. “Hey, Vicky! It is okay. Let it out!” Vicky did not stop sobbing and crying for over an hour and Katie was thinking deep inside just how she felt about her ex-husband’s death. She had known him for an exceptionally long time after all, and she would not wish harm to anyone. Even if he did try to rape her.

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Chapter 11

Someone once said, ‘Death is not the opposite of life, but part of it.’ We all die. That is the only thing in life that is guaranteed. You do not know when, or why. It just happens. You could be the healthiest person in the world, and then fate comes along and grabs you to be released from the living world. Some people fear the possibility of dying. But why fear the inevitable? The things we fear the most have already happened to us. Life. Do we fear life as much as we fear death? We fear the things that happen to us in life, the fear of getting hit by a car when crossing the road, the fear of your child being abducted if you let them go out on their own, the fear of losing someone close to you. But are your fears in life all death related? Now you can turn up at a funeral and not recognise anyone that is there. Someone will come up to you and demand that you meet Auntie or Uncle so and so, and yet in all your years, not once have they visited you, either as a child or even as an adult. You do not know them. Most people go to funerals to see

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A Dish Best Served Cold what they can get, free food if nothing else. Others are hoping to be given a keepsake in order that they can remember the deceased. Then you have the wives, step wives, brothers, and sisters, all fighting over the proceeds of the will. Proceeds of death, which were the proceeds of the deceased life. It should be a happy time for all the right reasons, you are celebrating the life of the one who has died. But it becomes a fight for what you can get from that celebration of death. Death can make or break a family. It can bring them together or divide them and push them further apart. The deceased can still cause as many problems in death as they did in life. Death is only the beginning of your life. Sometimes you mature incredibly young, take control of your family in the place of the man of the house. Maybe if God existed, he would have reconsidered the pain and anguish factor of those who mourn genuinely, and those who are just out to get whatever they can land their hands on. Life goes on when you die. You are forgotten.

The funeral cars paraded outside Val’s house in Eggbuckland as the rain pelted on their windscreens. Neighbours gathered to see what was going on. Val and her son Nicky came up the steps towards the hearse, both crying, whilst Nicky consoled his mother by putting his arm around her. The coffin car was in front, and the undertakers opened the door to let them in the car at the rear of the procession. Val wiped her tears with her handkerchief as they headed out of the estate and up towards Efford Cemetery.

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Katie has chosen not to go to the funeral. She had previously thought that she had forgiven Michael for what he had done to her, but deep inside, she hadn’t. She also did not want Stephen demanding to go to the funeral, and then getting upset, so she did not tell him that his father had died and had told both Vicky and Rachel to keep it from him. Vicky was very argumentative at the time and Katie thought that she would tell the boy as she thought that he should attend the funeral. It was his Dad after all. Katie did not want him handling another death in his life and feared that it would have a negative effect on him when he was just beginning to settle. Rachel also choose not to go to her father’s funeral. She had never and would never forgive him for that night of violence towards her mother. She had told her mother that she hoped that he would rot in hell. Katie wondered how her daughter could hate someone more than her when in reality it should be her hating the man for breaking up the family. Perhaps one day, when she matures a bit more, she will see it in her heart to forgive and forget, Katie thought to herself. Vicky arrived at the chapel and looked around to see Val, who was now inside waiting for the service to start. She walked down to the front row, and the two acknowledged each other silently. There were only seven people in the congregation which included her, Nicky and Val. Joe Lester and his wife Mary sat on the other side of the chapel to Vicky, and even got one of the front row seats as there was no one there to reserve them. Vicky was amazed that none of her family, either direct or indirect were there. She began to suspect that Val had not told anyone about the

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A Dish Best Served Cold funeral. How on earth could her mother and sister not attend? Mum had been married to him for years. They should have let bygones be bygones and as a sign of respect attended. She shook her head and lowered her stare to her lap as the service began. Then the tears filled her eyes.

Meanwhile, back at the Bishop household, Katie was sat on the sofa wondering how the service was going. She was not having regrets about not going but was remembering her ex-husband when times were good, like when he drove up the new A38 bypass for the first time. It had just been opened, and the only roads that he was used to driving on were the country roads up to work every day, so going for a day trip to Paignton with Katie and the kids was quite adventurous for him. But he wanted to drive because it was the new road. He complained about the speeding traffic for the 8 miles to the Ivybridge junction and then thought he would turn off and take the Country roads that he was used to, so turned off. But he went over the flyover and back down the A38. The Bishop’s trip to Paignton turned out to be an afternoon at Auntie Vi’s in Plymouth. Katie smiled. The good times, she thought to herself as a tear appeared in the corner of her eye. The letterbox flapped loudly as the postman delivered the letters, the noise bringing Katie out of her reminiscent memory. She walked to the door and picked up the letters. “Bill, bill, bill,” She said as she dumped them on top of Stephens toy box. Then she noticed a large A4 white envelope and frowned as she opened it. Pulling out the paper, she started to read.

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Michael had a will, and she was invited to the reading at his Solicitors office. Next Tuesday. Tuesday soon came around. Katie put on her ‘Sunday Best’ as she liked to call it. She did not know why she had been asked to attend as she could not see him leaving her anything as he had nothing. He lost his job, slummed it by living with Joe Lester for ages before getting a place of his own and dating Val. “He has probably left you his dirty underpants that he used to leave on the bathroom floor for you to pick up every day,” Rachel joked. Katie laughed. “I wouldn’t put that past him. But watch out because many a true word is said in jest,” she replied as she did up her coat and grabbed her bag. “Do you know what we all need that we haven’t had for years? A holiday!” She had that look of thoughtfulness on her face, where her brain was working overtime, and yet she did not know how to proceed with the idea. Rachel’s face lit up like a little child. “Well now you are talking! It would probably do us all the world of good!” “It certainly would,” her mum replied, checking herself in the mirror to see that everything was straight. “We will talk about it when I get back,” she said heading up towards the car.

Twenty minutes later, Katie was sat in her ex- husband’s Solicitors office in Mutley Plain, opposite Val, who was dressed like she was still at the funeral, in black with a black hat and black veil over her face. Inside, Katie thought it was funny, but could not show her emotions in this solemn situation. But she was

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A Dish Best Served Cold expecting the full works from Val during the appointment; tears, breaking down, handkerchief out of the handbag, blowing of the nose. The Solicitor walked in carrying a huge pile of papers and slammed them down on his desk, wiped his sweaty hand on his trousers and then shook the two lady’s hands. “Thank you for coming in,” he said moving to his seat on the other side of the desk. “I won’t keep you too long. It is quite a simple will, really.” He opened the file. “Michael Ronald Bishop. Yes.” Katie could see that Val was just becoming impatient, and just wanted to know what her boyfriend had left her in the will. That is all she wanted him for, Katie thought. She probably even knew he was dying. She would not put it past her. Yes, Val came across as a nice, polite woman to her face, but Katie would not trust her as far as she could throw her. The Solicitor cleared his throat. “Here we go. I Michael Ronald Bishop of 167 Eggbuckland Road, Plymouth, hereby revoke all former testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last will.” He looked further down the page, muttering “De duh, de duh, de duh,” as he came across the legal mumble jumbo that he knew the two of them would not be interested in. “I direct my Executor to direct the residue of my estate as follows. To my ex-wife, Katie Bishop, I direct the sum of £5000. All the excess residue of my estate shall be passed to my girlfriend, Valerie Watson. Katie looked angry that Val was getting the biggest share. But then she thought, ‘Just what did he have? He was living with Joe Lester and Val, had no assets that she knew about, no car.”

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“Miss Watson,” the Solicitor continued. “Taking away the legal fees, and outstanding debts, together with the money assigned to Mrs Bishop, leaves you £24 and 82 pence. Katie saw Val’s face drop, and anger took the place of excitement. Suddenly she had an outburst. “Are you sure that you have that the right way around?” “Yes, I am sure,” the Solicitor replied. “It can’t be right! It just can’t be!” She lifted the veil up from her face and tucked it up over her hat. “I was the one who has been looking after him for the past twelve months! She hasn’t seen him or done anything for him for years.” “Excuse me,” Katie snapped at her. “He owes me money for the children since he left. He has never given me a penny!” “Ladies, this is probably an argument for another day. You should receive the money by cheque within the next 14 days.” “Thank you,” Katie replied, making an exit whilst she held her temper. She opened the door, listening back to Val still shouting at the Solicitor, ’It can’t be right’.

Katie returned home with a smug look on her face. Rachel saw her smiling and guessed that it was at least some good news, or her mother would have been in a bad mood and calling Michael all the names under the sun. “Well?” asked Rachel, wanting to know why her mother was happy. “He has only gone and left me £5000!”

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“Bloody hell!” Rachel screamed and hugged her mum. “You need that right now, Mum.” “I certainly do, love. Because I need to take us on holiday. We all need one!” “What about his bit on the side? Did she get anything?” Rachel was hoping the answer was going to be a ‘No’, but her Mum nodded to indicate it was not the case. “Yes,” Katie replied with a sad look on her face. “I bet she got the bloody lot!” Rachel said with a look of anger. “Bitch!” Katie smiled once more. “I’m having you on! The Solicitor told her that after the legal bill, she would get about £25.” “Ha! What comes around!” Rachel was overjoyed. “So, I think as soon as the money comes through, I should go to the travel agents and book us all to go to Butlins. I have seen it advertised on television. They have a funfair, and sports, activities, a chair lift and a monorail.” Katie’s eyes glowed as she thought of being there already. She had not had a holiday since the year before David had died, 1968. Ten long years, she thought to herself as she investigated a brief nothingness with her staring eyes. “Then, when we come back from holiday, we are going to be moving. Not immediately, but plan to move.” “You’ve got it all worked out, I see,” said an unhappy, angry voice from the direction of the doorway. Vicky stood there, arms crossed, and listened to her mother’s plans. “I don’t suppose we have a say about this?”

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Katie turned and smirked at her daughter. “No. For once in your life, you don’t! You are invited on holiday and can even bring your boyfriends, girls. Why not?” Vicky shook her head and went upstairs to her bedroom without saying any more to her mother. It probably was not worth saying because her mum was so happy at this moment in time that whatever Vicky said would not have sunk in at any point. Vicky was also surprised that her father did not leave his children anything. Mind you, he had snubbed her at court. He had not been in contact very much between then and now. She had been surplus to requirements. Used like a lady’s sanitary towel, she thought to herself in her bold manner. Just like she had been with Kelvin. She was also aware that her mother had told her to move on, so perhaps she would not be moving to the new family house when it happened. Katie had other plans. They were going to move this year to another area, another house, no matter what. Like it or lump it. This house had some good memories, but plenty of bad ones. She knew that Stephen could do with a bit of freedom away from this area, and it would be a new start for him and help him look ahead and not think of things that had happened. First though she had to tell him about his father.

Stephen had told his mother that he might be late home from school because Mr Tynan was helping him with his maths homework. So that is exactly what he did, knocked on the door and his teacher was marking the homework from the previous class, and had a pile of A5 schoolbooks on both sides of him. One pile was ‘to

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A Dish Best Served Cold be marked’ and the other ‘marked’. Mr Tynan heard the knock and was expecting Stephen at some point as he had set his class homework earlier that day. He waved for the boy to enter. “Hello, Sir.” Tom Tynan smiled, happy that Stephen was taking an interest in his schooling and getting extra help with the subjects he was failing at. “Young Master Bishop, come in.” He pulled a chair from the side for Stephen to use. “I’m glad you are here. You have saved me from the marking!” “I’m a bit confused by the homework, Sir. Could you help me?” Stephen got out his schoolbook ready for the answer to be ‘yes’. “I will,” his teacher replied. “How about you do something for me, then?” “What shall I do?” Stephen was quite surprised. Tom knew he could talk the boy around. “I have seen you on the rugby field on Wednesday afternoons. You are rather good, you know?” “Am I?” Stephen replied, surprised that he was being told he was good at something. “Totally!” reassured his teacher. “You are fast on those little legs of yours, and you dodge like you are running from a pack of dogs. Now tell me, why don’t you want to play for the school rugby team? Is it that incident with Mr Jenkins that put you off?” Stephen nodded then hesitated. “Partly, Sir. He is just genuinely horrible to me full stop.” “I’ll let you into a secret. Harry Jenkins does not like anyone! He’s a bit of a grump!” Tom thought he would try and get Stephen on his side by agreeing with the boy’s view. “You should hear him in the staff room!

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He moans about the tea made for him because it’s either too strong or too weak!” Stephen giggled. “He likes to give detentions. Too much I would say. He is like a traffic warden giving out parking tickets.” Tom Tynan joined him in his humour by laughing as well. “Well, Stephen, about that favour?” The boy nodded in agreement. “Would you play rugby for me? I reckon you could be the hero of the moment on that pitch.” Stephen paused, imagining him as the hero, lifted upon the team’s shoulders after they won the cup. He would do anything for Mr Tynan because Mr Tynan helped him, he thought. “Course I will, Sir. Is Mr Jenkins not in charge of the team anymore?” “He is, but the first-year team. You are now in your second year, and I coach that team! It is not easy. I am quite a competitive disciplinarian when it comes to my rugby.” He got up and reached for a photograph that was hanging beside the blackboard and passed it to the boy. “Have a look at that.” “That is the National team,” Stephen said, amazed at the photo. “You played for England?” “I sure did back in my day. 1962 that was. And guess which position I play?” Stephen shook his head. “Hooker. Now I know you are brilliant in that position.” Stephen continued to look at the photo and as he handed it back, he said, “I wish I could be like you, Sir.” “There is no reason why you can’t, young man!”

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Stephen arrived home full of the joys of summer knowing that he was going to play rugby for Mr Tynan. For once, he didn’t throw his schoolbag on the floor, but took it up to his bedroom with him, shouted “Hello, I’m home!” to those in the house that he couldn’t see, and then threw himself onto his bed. He still had that vision of him being the hero in his head. Rachel poked her head around the bedroom door, and then walked in. “Got your homework sorted?” she asked inquisitively. “Yep!” her brother responded happily. “And, I’m going to be playing for the school rugby team. My teacher played for England!” He was still excited at the thought of being coached by an England superstar. “I thought you didn’t want to play rugby for the school?” Rachel asked, a confused look on her face and a frown on her forehead. “I didn’t think you got on with the teacher?” “Mr Tynan is the coach now. So, I will play for him because he helps me. He’s nice.” Stephen knew that he could not be smug around Mr Jenkins in history lessons, because he would get further detentions, or even ’sides’ where he had to write whatever subject he was told to right on A4 sheets of paper as a punishment. “Okay. Well I will have to come and see you play.” “Yes, if you can!” Stephen was overjoyed that his favourite sister would come to his matches. Rachel knew that her mother wanted to speak to him, and that was the real reason she had come up to see him so quickly. But now she felt that this was not

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A Dish Best Served Cold the right time, as he was happy with his good news. “Change from your school clothes and then come down and tell mum the news. She will be proud of you! I am!” Rachel left with some haste and ran down to try and stop Katie telling Stephen about his father. She wiggled her finger at her mother for her to come closer. “What is it love?” Katie asked concerningly. “You can’t tell him tonight. He has just had good news at school. I think you should hold off for a couple more days because any minute now he is going to come through that door with a happy smiling face and want to tell you!” Katie looked worried because she had psyched herself up enough to break the news gently to him, rather than in her ‘matron’ nursing style that would normally be used. “Right, but it has to be soon. Perhaps the weekend.” “Yes, the weekend would be better. I will be here to console him if he needs it.” Stephen got changed out of his school uniform and into his scruffs. He left his bedroom and caught sight of Vicky entering the bathroom. He did not really want to speak to her as they did not get on. She was just a ball of negativity towards the family, and she had not changed one bit. Vicky stopped and looked at him with her evil eyes. “Well. Has Mum told you?” Stephen was at the top of the stairs just about to descent, but he stopped but did not turn around to face her. “Told me what?” “That your father is dead, and his funeral was last week but you weren’t allowed to go?”

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Stephen did not say a word as he walked slowly down the stairs. He did not know what to think. His Dad was an arsehole anyway and did not want him. But if it were true, and Vicky would be a nasty person to joke about something like that, why didn’t his mum tell him and if he wanted to, let him go to the funeral? He pushed the door going into the living room. “Everything alright love?” Katie asked, noticing his somewhat angry face. “Rachel says you have some good news for me?” Stephen stood there but could not look at anyone to maintain eye contact. He was not sure if he was angry or sad. Angry that his mum was still treating him with kid gloves, or sad because his so-called father had died. “Is it true?” “Is what true, love?” Katie replied, as Rachel began to think the worst of the situation. There is only one person that could have told him if he knows. Bloody Vicky! Stephen sat down on the sofa and looked like he was calming down. “My Dad. Vicky says he is dead, and that the funeral was last week.” Rachel knew it. Vicky had been told not to say anything until his mother was able to tell him the bad news, but no, the bitch had struck again. She shouted in the direction of the stairs, “Bloody bitch!” “Well mum?” Stephen asked. “Come here, love. Sit on my lap.” “Mum, I’m thirteen. I am too big to sit on your lap. Just tell me if it is true?” Stephen looked at his mother waiting for an answer. Katie took a deep breath knowing she had to tell him the truth.

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“It is true, love. He died a couple of weeks ago. It was because of the alcohol that he continued to drink. It gave him a heart attack.” Katie did not know how the boy would take the news but was hoping that it would not be too hard for him to understand and accept. “Why didn’t you tell me, Mum? I am older now. I can take these things, you know.” He looked like he was sadder that his mother had not told him about his father’s death than he was that his father had gone. “Mum just wanted to protect you. She didn’t know how to tell you and didn’t want you to go through more hurt,” Rachel said as she sat on the arm of the sofa and put her reassuring arm around her brother. “Rachel is right, love. I really did not want you to have any more to worry about. You have been through a lot in your little life.” Katie was beginning to think she should have told her son earlier and give him the option to go to the funeral or not. Stephen started tapping the cushion between his legs, but not nervously. He was just thinking. “I probably wouldn’t have gone to the funeral anyway. I never knew him. He was just like some guy on the street really. And he hurt you Mum. But at least I know now.” He got up and headed towards the dining room. “Is dinner done yet?” He said in jest. “I’m not telling you unless you tell me this good news that you have to tell me,” his mother responded. “Otherwise, I will have to starve you,” she joked. Stephen could not wait to tell her the news. “I’m going to be playing rugby for the school! For Mr Tynan. He asked me so I will.” Katie seemed happy that Stephen was, at last, getting into some activity because before this, he could

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A Dish Best Served Cold prove to be quite anti-social. At one-point last summer, she had to drag him out of his bedroom, where he had been sat with the curtains closed all the time in darkness playing his music. “That is brilliant news. I am sure you will do well. You seem to get along with Mr Tynan, don’t you?” Stephen nodded. “You can come and watch my matches if you want. Rachel is going to come, aren’t you sis?” “Just try and stop me!” Stephen smiled at his sister. “Right mum. Food? I need it now I am going to be playing for England one day.” “Playing for England eh? Go for it, buster,” she chuckled. Dinner won’t be long, but I have got something to do first.” Katie got up and headed over to the door. “Vicky?” She shouted standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Can you come down here, please?” Vicky came out of her room and stomped down the stairs like an immature child, her face dropping like she had been caught out. “What?” she asked with a sign of total disrespect for her mother. “Thank you for telling Stephen about his Dad. It didn’t quite have the effect that you hoped it would.” “He had a right to know!” Vicky snapped as she stood on the bottom stair. “No doubt he did,” Katie replied, strong willed to the last. “But it wasn’t your responsibility to tell him, it was mine.” Katie was waiting for a sibling apology, but none came from her daughter. So, she made an instant decision. “Vicky, remember back along I told you that I wanted you to find a place of your own? I gave you the

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A Dish Best Served Cold benefit of the doubt to let you stay under this roof. But it is not working.” “But,” Vicky said, realising her fate. “No but’s my dear. I am going to give you the deposit and one month’s rent out of the money I am going to get off your father’s will. I want you out, young lady. No ifs, no buts. I’ve had enough of you disrupting this family!” Katie walked back into the sitting room turning her back on her eldest daughter. Vicky stood flabbergasted at what her mother had just said to her.

Stephen finished his food as though he had not been fed for a week. He just wanted to get out and go over to Martin’s house. “I’m going out, Mum,” he said nearly running out the door before he got off his chair. “Back by 7.30 because it’s a school night,” Katie replied as she watched him jump up the wall outside the sitting room window and go over the grass, through the bush and out onto the path. What she did not see was Stephen’s nemesis, Nigel Dodd, waiting by Mrs Beasley’s gate. Stephen walked past him, ignoring him at first, but stopped as he heard Nigel mutter something under his breath. “Remember, Doddy, I’m no longer afraid of you,” he said strongly as he turned to face him. “Well you should be,” Nigel said, grabbing a piece of 4 by 2 that he had hidden in Mrs Beasley’s privet, and holding it in both hands. “Really?” said Stephen, weighing up his options. He could run, but that would be cowardice. He could fight but would probably be at a disadvantage with the wooden weapon that his enemy had in his hands.

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“Yes, really!” Nigel snapped. What he was not expecting was Stephen to make the first move as he rugby tackled his assailant resulting in Doddy falling backwards to the floor with a loud thump. Stephen got on top of him and started thumping him anywhere he could. Nigel started to cry as some of the punches blew across his face and into his eyes. Then Stephen grabbed the piece of wood that Doddy had dropped during the fall backwards. “Never underestimate me, Nigel Dodd! Never! I took shit from you for most of the last year at junior school. Well no more!” Stephen did not see his best friend Martin running over towards them, seeing what was happening from his bedroom window and realising Stephen could be in trouble. Stephen raised the weapon above his head. Did he want to use it, or did he just want to scare the shit out of the coward? “Stephen, don’t do it mate!” Martin shouted, reaching the scene of the fracas. “He’s not worth shit! Think of it.” Stephen got ready to smash Nigel over the head, his eyes glowing with a mixture of anger from Nigel trying to ambush him, and his father dying and not wanting him in his life. “He deserves it, Mart!” Martin held out his hand and said, “He does. You know that and I know that. But you will get in trouble with the police. He is not worth that. Look at him. He is scared shitless.” He towered over Nigel staring with bloodshot evil eyes for what seemed like eternity to Nigel, whose face was just filled with fear. Stephen grasped the wood as Martin edged forward and grabbed the end.

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“Stephen, stop. Give the wood to me. You don’t need to do this.” Stephen pulled away from his best friend and shouted “Arrrggghhhh” as an indication that he was about to hit Nigel, who was laid squealing and curling up to try and protect himself on the ground. “Stephen, mate. Come on. He is not worth it. Give it to me!” Martin commanded. Then he lowered his tone of voice and grabbed the end of the wood once more. “Please. Please. Come on, let go. Give it to me.” The boy let go of the weapon and looked at his buddy. “Thanks,” he said taking his eyes off Doddy and looking at his mate. “If it wasn’t for you ….” “Watch out,” Martin shouted, bringing the 4 by 2 down on Nigel’s stomach. “He has a knife!” Nigel grimaced with pain as the wood hit him hard in the stomach, but Martin did not stop there. He hit him on both knees, and then hit the hand that had the knife in. “Don’t ever pull a knife on me, mother fucker! Do you hear me? You are nothing around here! You are nothing!” “Martin, Stop! Like you said, he’s not worth shit.” Martin looked at Nigel laying on the floor doubled up in pain one last time. “He is the sort of kid that has one of those faces that you just want to punch!” Stephen nodded and smiled. “You could say that. Come on, we had better go, quickly,” Stephen said, pulling his friends arm. He looked at Nigel and could not resist getting one last punishment in as he was about to walk away. He turned and kicked Nigel between the legs, and then in the stomach. “Wanker!”

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Chapter 12

Child Sexual abuse, it is estimated, affects one in every twenty children. Over a third of Police-recorded sexual offences are against children. Just what goes through someone’s mind, be it both male and female, when they decide, ‘I’m going to sexually abuse this child’? Many medical professionals have tried to understand sexual deviancy and have come to conclusions, but mainly from what they have included in their study. You see psychologists on these television programmes who tell the viewer what the criminal was thinking. How do they know? Because that is what they have been taught, from a book, written by someone who had been taught by another book and so it goes on. Does a sexual predator choose his victim? They say some go for the vulnerable children, those with troubles at home, and in need of a friend and a listening ear. Some of those listening ears are quite genuine. Child sexual abuse is prominent more on girls than boys, and 90% of child sexual abuse is by someone known to the victim.

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Parents of those who have been abused think that sexual deviants should be castrated. But would this work? Would this stop their sexual urges to have sexual contact in some way with someone that they should not? They may still have the urge, but not the resources as they had before. They could still touch a child and get their excitement in some other way. School children, you would think, would be protected from this kind of human being. Your favourite teacher is your hero. Your least favourite teacher is a grumpy old bastard. You always have the one teacher whom pupils go around telling stories about because of the way they act, in some cases camp, or very full on, touchy. The known gay teacher in the school is always a pervert to the boys, but the girls love him because he is a gay icon to them. It is not these you have to watch. The normal, likeable leader who gains your trust, confidence and respect is the one you need to watch. The one you need to worry about. But as children, we do not know that. You never think it will happen to you.

Stephen returned to school the next day, despite his mother wanting him to stay at home because of the shock of his Dad dying. But he was adamant that he did not really care about his father and wanted to go to school because he was in the rugby team and needed to see Mr Tynan about when the next practice was. As he got off the bus, a familiar figure came behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hi mate,” Mark Dawe said to him with a happy smile on his face. “How’s things?”

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“Good,” replied Stephen, pulling his schoolbag upon to his shoulder and then walking with his friend. “Well, it’s not really. I got told that my Dad had died two weeks ago, but they only told me last night. I’m not really bothered, but It would have been good to have been told when it happened and told about the funeral.” He had already told Mark Dawe about the problems surrounding his father from start to finish, so his friend knew everything about him. He had built up a great deal of trust with Mark, just as he had with Martin back home. “Hey,” Mark said, holding out his arms. “Come on, have a hug!” and pulled the mourning boy into his arms which surprised him as he did not know how to react. So finally, he returned the gesture hugging Mark in return. “Come on, we had better make a move. We do not want to be late. It’s chemistry with Mr Sanders first!” Mr Sanders was known to be another Mr Jenkins in being strict. On the first lesson that he had taken them for, he wrote his name on the board mentioning that his name was Sanders. Stephen’s classmate, James Retallack, put his hand up and shouted, “Excuse me, Sanders,” to which the teacher looked at him with that evil teacher stare and gave him a detention for being rude. Someone had to test the water in the class, and that someone was James Retallack. The two boys ran as fast as they could towards the school and got in the side entrance door just as the bell rang for the first period. They should have been in the class sitting down by now, but both their buses were late arriving at the bus stop beside the Plymouth

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Museum, which was the nearest bus stop to the school. Both arrived just slightly late, but Mr Sanders did not notice because he was still preparing the blackboard. They took their seats quickly, making out that they had always been in the class in the first place. But you could not fool Mr Sanders, who had years of teaching experience behind him and knew all the tricks in the book. “Bishop and Dawe!” The two boys looked at each other, thinking that they had got away with sneaking in. In tandem, both boys replied, “Yes, Sir?” “What time does my chemistry lesson start?” Mr Sanders turned to face the pair of them as he had finished writing on the blackboard. He looked at his watch. “I’m waiting for a reply!” Mark Dawe replied for them both. “8.25, Sir.” “Is than morning or evening? Don’t be late again, either of you!” Again, in tandem, the boys said, “Sorry, Sir,” as they realised that they had been caught out. They knew that next time they would get some form of punishment. Probably detention because Mr Sanders liked to hand them out, although not as much as Mr Jenkins. Stephen and Mark looked at each other cheekily and laughed silently. They starred at each other momentarily making eye contact, and then Stephen quickly moved his head to look back at the front of the classroom, but he continued to look out of the corner of his eye to see if Mark was still looking at him.

Later that day, as school ended, Stephen and Mark walked back to the bus stop on the other side of

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A Dish Best Served Cold the road, in front of the Plymouth Polytechnic. “It will be the summer holidays soon,” Stephen said. “My birthday is right in the middle of it. No doubt my mum will do one of her famous parties.” “Parents eh? So how old are you this birthday?” “Fourteen. How time flies,” Stephen remarked whilst looking out for his bus. “Well I’ll come around in the summer holidays if you want. And you can come around to mine.” Mark was excited at the prospect. “That sounds great,” said Stephen. He never had many friends, well, Martin. That was it really. He knew Mark Dawe at primary school but did not really move in the same circles as he did. “Ah, here’s my bus,” said Mark. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” “Yes, ok. Meet you at the bus stop over the road?” “Great,” Mark replied. Then suddenly he leaned over and kissed Stephen on the cheek and looked at him briefly before jumping on the bus. Stephen waved at him through the bus window but was confused about the kiss. Perhaps it was just an over-friendly gesture, and that is the way he has been taught to show friendship in his family. But the problem was, he liked it. It gave him a sense of love, security, and friendship that he had not felt for a long time in his life. His train of thought was broken as he saw his bus coming around the roundabout and coming to a halt in front of him. He went home, and all the way, was thinking about Mark Dawe.

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Summer soon came around. Stephen, his Mum, Sister Rachel, and her boyfriend Ralph all went on holiday to Butlins in Minehead, Somerset. The week that they spent there was just so fun filled but relaxing at the same time. Stephen had saved up his pocket money, all £26 of it, to spend on holiday. They had a fantastic time and Stephen was allowed to stay up as long as he liked, playing on the machines, swimming, and watching the bands play their music. The most embarrassing moment was when Katie had too many schooners of sherry, and on the way back to the chalet which was normally a five-minute walk but took over an hour, his mum urinated in her own knickers, and then started chasing a rabbit. Stephen found it embarrassingly funny and was glad that his Mum was enjoying herself as much as he was. If only they did not have to return home. But better things were to come. On the last day of term Stephen and Mark had swapped addresses but were yet to meet up because of the holiday, but it happened one day, and Mark asked Stephen if he would like to go to the cinema to see Disney’s Black Hole. “I’m not sure what the film is like,” Mark told him as they stood outside the Drake cinema at Derry’s Cross. “It’s a space movie. Lots of robots or something.” “Should be good,” Stephen replied, excited to actually be going to the cinema. They got their tickets and the two boys decided to sit in the middle of the cinema, not too close to the screen, but not too far either. Stephen rested his arm on the arm rest in between him and Mark. Mark placed his there as well.

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The two boys looked at each other as Stephen realised there was a closeness in the position of the arms. Was it an invasion of personal space? The lights went down, and the film began. In the darkness, Mark grabbed Stephen’s hand. Stephen did not pull away but looked at Mark and smiled, that happy kind of smile which also showed a sign of agreement to Mark’s forwardness towards his friend. They could not take their eyes off each other as Mark rubbed his fingers. Then he held Stephen’s hand, pulled it over, and placed it on his crotch. Stephen felt the outline of Mark’s erect penis and began to rub it up and down. Getting excited himself, he placed his hand down the front of Mark’s jeans and into his underpants. He grabbed Mark’s penis again, this time it was bare. He rubbed the foreskin up and down and could see that Mark was enjoying it, a bit too much as he started to make a noise. Stephen looked at him with wide-open eyes as if the say ‘Be quiet or someone will hear’. Minutes later, Stephen pulled his hand out as Mark had ejaculated in his hand. He looked at his palm. Mark looked at him cheekily. Just what was Stephen going to do? Where was he going to wipe his hand? He did not. He put his tongue out and licked the fluid off his hand, every last bit, whilst the two of them never took their eyes off each other.

The film finished, not that either boy saw much of it because they kept looking at each other throughout its entirety. It was time to go home, so they both went back to Stephen’s house and up to his bedroom. Behind the closed door, they kissed, and kissed. Not on the cheek this time. Two near 14-year olds with their hormones

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A Dish Best Served Cold working overtime and who began to realise they were different from other boys. Stephen pulled away from the embrace for a moment. “What’s wrong?” Mark asked, worried that Stephen was going to get upset. “What are we doing?” Stephen questioned, a look of confusion on his face and a frown on his forehead. He had never had a friend like this, even at Junior School where Mark went as well. What if they got caught? Mark looked at him with sparkly eyes and smiled. “Stephen, I have fancied you for a long time. I know you like me too. I just want to be with you.” “As in, go out with me?” Mark nodded. “I want you to be my boyfriend.” He looked at the boy who had just masturbated him in the cinema and smiled at him. “Are you queer then?” Stephen asked, somewhat confused by the whole situation. “I guess so. I do not fancy girls. I like you. I suppose that makes me queer,” Mark responded calmly. “What about you?” “I’m not sure. I mean, I get this tingling in my stomach when you kiss me. Do you get that?” Mark nodded again. “I get it when I am with you, not only kissing you.” They both hesitated, both thinking about their next move. Then Stephen returned to the embrace and the pair kissed once again. Stephen stopped briefly, looked in the boy’s eyes and said, “Yes, I’ll go out with you.” Then he pushed him over towards the bed where they both fell backwards onto it. They stayed clothed as Stephen’s

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A Dish Best Served Cold mother was downstairs, but they hugged and kissed for what seemed like ages. They both watched the clock go around and at 5.30 pm, Mark announced, “I’ll have to go. I have to be home by 6.” He kissed what he thought was once last time, but Stephen kept pulling him back and the embraces became more indulgent. “Do you want to come to my house tomorrow?” Mark whispered. “Yeh, great.” “I’ll get my mum to cook you a lunch, so come for 12?” Mark felt that stirring again in his stomach as they both rolled of the bed and stood up, tucking themselves in and being presentable once again. Then they went downstairs. Stephen shouted, “Mum, Mark’s going home!” “Bye Mark,” Katie shouted from the kitchen. “Nice to meet you!” “Thanks for having me, Mrs Bishop!” “That’s ok, you can come anytime,” she replied joyfully knowing that Stephen seemed to have a good friend at last. Mark looked into Stephen’s eyes once more and raised his eyebrows, then whispered, “And thanks for, ahem, having me.” Quickly he kissed Stephen more of a peck on the lips than how they had been kissing earlier. “Bye,” Stephen said as his newly found boyfriend ran up the steps. As Mark disappeared to the left, Stephen smiled as he realised that he was feeling something that he had never felt before. The problem was it was another boy. How would that be viewed if they were ever found out? The boys in school already called some of the others who were smaller than them

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A Dish Best Served Cold or well spoken, ‘Queer’, ‘Puff’, ‘Shirt-lifter’ and ‘Faggot’, and made gestures about them shagging boy’s arses and touching each other’s penises. He had got away with that because he was in the rugby team. If you picked on one of the rugby team, you picked on them all, so the other boys left you alone. He questioned himself about being queer. He did look at the other boys after the games lessons when in the showers. The boys used to joke about who would get a hard on in the showers, and mention bending over to pick up the soap. Up until now, Stephen had not understood this. But what about his mum and sisters? What would they say? He could hardly introduce him as his boyfriend. Mum would ban Mark from the house and ban him from having any contact with Mark. He took a huge sigh and then headed to the kitchen to see his mother.

The following day, Stephen was up and ready to go to Mark’s house. He had not actually told his mother that he had been invited, so she was quite surprised when he came down early on a Sunday morning all dressed, even before Rachel was up. “Mum, Mark has invited me up his house for lunch. I forgot to tell you.” “That’s ok, love,” Katie replied. “I will cut you one out so you can either have it when you get home or for dinner tomorrow.” She noticed a change in him, like he had some motivation in him. Perhaps the rugby team was doing him the world of good, she thought to herself. It was bringing him out of himself, and he was meeting new friends, especially at school. “I want you

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A Dish Best Served Cold back for 7.30pm at the latest, because it’s a school night!” “Yes, Mum.” “How about I drop you up in the car, so I know where you are going, and then pick you up at seven- fifteen, so you don’t have to walk alone?” Katie was a bit overprotective on her children ever since David has died, and because this was the first time he had ever been to Mark’s house, it would be good for her to know. Stephen was wondering if his mother’s idea were a good or bad idea, but then realised just how far he would have to walk and how early he would have to leave to get home by 7.30pm tonight. “That’s a good idea. Thanks mum.” He knew if he had said no, it would have only started a conference between the family with Rachel taking her mother’s side as she always did on these matters. “I have to be there for Midday because his mum does lunch early as she goes to work just before 2pm. “That’s no problem. Where does he live?” Stephen tried to remember the address. He had written it down, but the paper was upstairs. All he knew was the street name. “Ruskin Crescent. Up by my old school.” “Oh right. So, did you know him from primary school, then?” Katie asked whilst having her hands deep in soapy water in the sink and washing the dishes. “Well, yes,” Stephen replied to her as he went to the cupboard to get the breakfast cereal out. “We didn’t really play together. Our paths never really crossed.” He went to the fridge to get the milk. He was very fussy, because he did not like a lot of milk on his cereal, in

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A Dish Best Served Cold fact his mother used to wonder why he bothered to have any at all. “Okay. Well we will leave about 11.45 if that is alright with you?” She watched her son nod as he scoffed down his breakfast. “Oh, and by the way, we are moving to Estover on 15th August! Just before your birthday. We could have the first house party in the new house.” Katie guessed that he would not want one now that he was that little more grown up. “Can I just have my friend Mark around for a sleepover?” “Course you can. You will have to top and tail though, as we only have your bed. Or he can sleep on the floor on a spare duvet. Or tell him to bring a sleeping bag if he has one.” Stephen smirked. Hopefully if everything went right, it would not be top and tailing, but top and topping. He just hoped that Mark would be able to travel out to Estover. It was not that far from where he lived, but hard to get to. If the time were right, his mum would probably drop him out. If not, they would work something out.

11.45am soon came around, and Stephen tried rushing his mum up to the car. His mother just thought it was the excitement of having a new friend. She dropped him off outside and waited for him to go in with Mark before she drove away. “Come and meet my mum,” Mark said, leading him into the Kitchen. “Mum, this is Stephen, my friend from school.” “Hello there,” she said, taking off her rubber gloves that she was wearing to scrub out some pans.

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“I’ve been hearing about you non-stop. Did you enjoy the cinema yesterday?” “Yes, brilliant film,” Stephen replied, gazing cheekily at Mark. “Thank you for letting me come up for the afternoon.” “That’s okay,” she replied putting her gloves back on. “Lunch will be in half an hour. I hope you like roast chicken?” “Yummy,” Stephen replied. “Then I will have to leave you two boys just after one to get to work. I believe your mum is a nurse like me, so Marky tells me.” Stephen decided to take the mick of his friend. “Yes, Marky told me that you were a nurse as well. My Mum is at Freedom Fields. Ward 14. She always says it is full of old dears.” Stephen laughed. “The geriatric ward!” Marks Mum smirked. “Yes, mostly full of us old dears!” “Oh, you’re not old, Mrs Dawe. You must have had Marky incredibly young.” Mark nudged him without his mum seeing as punishment for calling him Marky like his mother did. She pointed a finger at him. “I do like him, Marky. You can bring him any time!” She smiled at the two boys. “So, what have you two got planned for this afternoon? Anything good?” “Not sure, yet,” Mark responded, looking at Stephen and smirking. “Probably play some Scalextric, then go down the park.” “Well just be careful on your own. Any trouble, you know the number.” Mrs Dawe had it written on a pin board just inside the front door so he would not lose it. “Right, go and play or do whatever you want to do. I

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A Dish Best Served Cold will call you when lunch is dished up.” She watched them go upstairs. Mark led Stephen into his bedroom. “Well, this is my bedroom,” he said quietly as he closed the door. Their lips met as Mark kissed him passionately over and over again. The time seemed to fly by as Mark suddenly heard his mother calling from downstairs. “Lunch is ready.” The two boys went downstairs and had lunch. Stephen ate all of his, but Mark left his cabbage and sprouts. “You never eat your greens,” Mark’s mother said to him, trying to embarrass him in front of his friend. “Sometimes I do,” Mark replied jokingly. “Cabbage and sprouts? Taste awful anyway.” “I like them,” Stephen said as Mark’s mum winked at him. “There we go, Marky. If your friend can eat them, so can you!” Mark laughed. Time to get his own back on his friend. “He only ate them because he fancies you, Mum!” Stephen nudged him in the ribs and went red with embarrassment. Mark’s mum smiled and said, “Well he is only human!” She went to start clearing the table, but Stephen jumped up as well. “It’s okay, Mrs Dawe. You go and get ready for work. Mark and I will clear the dishes away.” Mark looked at him, the kind of ‘What have you just volunteered me for’ look. “Oh, your friend is so sweet! Can he swap places with you, Marky?” Mrs Dawe said jokingly as

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A Dish Best Served Cold she walked towards the stairs and turned to wink at her son. “Love you really!” Ten minutes later, the boys said goodbye to Mark’s mum as she left to go to work. They watched her leave, driving the car down the road. Then the two of them went back upstairs and stripped down to their underpants before getting into Mark’s bed.

The following day, Stephen and Mark met as usual at the bus stop outside the Museum. They looked at each other at first, both a bit nervous about what had happened the day before, but the nervousness did not last long. “Are you okay with everything we did yesterday?” Mark asked, inquisitively, as he was unsure at first if the things they did, Stephen actually wanted to do. Stephen looked bemused, a huge grin on his face, and he could not take his eyes off of Mark. He looked around, saw no one behind them and pulled Mark into the doorway of the Museum. Then he kissed his lover. “There,” he said. “Does that answer your question?” He hesitated, raised his hand and stroked Mark’s face, and then said, “Come on. We had better get to school.” “What have we got first?” “Mathematics with Mr Tynan, then RE with Mr Floyd, and then after break time it is double PE with Mr Mendham,” Stephen said.

That is where it started. Little did Stephen know, but something was going to happen that was about to change his life forever. Something that he would not

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A Dish Best Served Cold understand and would not be able to handle mentally. Just before the end of the last period of the morning, PE, Stephen stepped off the bench whilst doing steps and twisted one of his muscles. He was not sure which muscle, but it was hurting. Mark saw him limping and ran over to his boyfriend, getting there just before the coach, Mr Mendham. “Are you okay?” Before Stephen could answer, Mr Mendham stepped in. “It’s alright, Dawe. I will take it from here.” He turned to the rest of the class and announced, “Right, back into the changing room and get changed ready for the bell!” He watched all of them disappear across the corridor to the changing room, and then tried to help Stephen. “Come into my office and I will take a look at it for you.” “Yes, Sir,” Stephen replied, still grouching from the pain in his thigh and hamstring. He could not walk fast, so the teacher placed Stephen’s arm over his shoulder to support him, and soon they were at the office down in the far corner of the gymnasium. Mr Mendham lowered Stephen into the chair opposite his desk. “Right, let us take a look at that for you. You might need to go to the hospital,” He said, lifting the boy’s leg until it straightened, forcing Stephen to grimace even more than before. He then started to massage Stephen’s upper leg. “Is that better?” Stephen nodded. “Yes, Sir. Thankyou. I only stepped off the bench,” he said as the massaging continued. “Let’s get these shorts off so I can see if there is any bruising.” He helped his pupil to lift his body slightly

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A Dish Best Served Cold as Stephen pulled his shorts over his backside, and then Mr Mendham helped him remove them all together. Then the teacher started massaging again, this time touching close to Stephen’s private parts. “I don’t think you will be playing for the school rugby team this week,” he told him, as Mendham’s fingers began to touch the edge of Stephen’s testicles and penis with two of his fingers whilst massaging his inner thigh injury. Stephen looked confused. What was his teacher doing? Was it accidental that Mr Mendham had touched him between the legs? Was it innocent and was he just giving him a massage to ease his pain? “I think it’s better now, Sir.” Mr Mendham appeared like he was in a world of his own as he did not hear the boy speaking to him but continued rubbing his bare leg and slightly touching his underpants where his penis was. “Sir?” Stephen asked, raising the volume of his voice to try and get Mr Mendham’s attention. He stirred and then removed his hand. “Sorry,” he said. “I was in a world of my own.” Then he got up and handed Stephen back his shorts. “It feels a little bit less painful now Sir,” Stephen said, trying as hard as possible to get his shorts on and appearing to be in a panic. The gymnasium door suddenly slammed, and Stephen heard a familiar voice calling for him. “Stephen? You coming to lunch?” Mark shouted. “Yes,” he replied nervously, still keeping his eyes on Mr Mendham who was facing the other way

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A Dish Best Served Cold and looking out the window towards the playground. “I’ll be there now.” Mr Mendham overheard, still did not turn around, but exclaimed, “Yes, you go. It should be okay if you take it easy.” It was like he was feeling some guilt about what he had done at that moment in time. Stephen edged his way over to his boyfriend, who helped him across the corridor into the changing room. The whole time he was silent, forcing Mark to ask him if something was wrong. But Stephen did not know how to explain what had just happened, just in case it was completely innocent, and he had misread the situation. He went in and got changed and decided not to tell anyone about the incident. It could have been part of the treatment to relax his leg, but he did not think so. If he told anyone, would they find out that he had gay tendencies at an incredibly young age? No, Stephen, he thought. Best keep it to yourself. No one will understand or believe you. He felt dirty.

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Chapter 13

Many people will quote the bible when asked where it is written that two people of the same sex cannot be together and fall in love. There have been many wrong interpretations of Leviticus 18:22 that no one actually knows the correct answer, if there is one, and considering the amount of Church clergy who are homosexual or have homosexual tendencies towards both adults and children, the misinterpretation is deeper than the normal man on the street. There have been many studies academically on when someone actually knew they were gay, lesbian, or bisexual. The answer is everyone has their own story. The chances of identifying with the person next to you in the same way is very remote. It is the circumstances that are unique to everyone. You could be in a straight relationship having thought you were gay. Then married, children, still thinking you might be gay because you fancy the guy next door and imagine yourself having a night of passion with him.

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Up until 1967, homosexuality in the UK, even in private, was illegal. Many old- school parents and grandparents reject members of their family who took advantage of the act of parliament that stated ‘It was ok to be gay’ even though it was still not accepted and probably will still not fully be by some. The question really has to be, how do you know you are in love? You feel that stirring in your stomach looking at their eyes, their personality, their love of life. Some often like the body beautiful people, and this can be quite shallow of the person that wants this. Usually the quote, ‘It’s not only what’s on the outside, but the inside as well’ is brought up in conversation. The answer is you cannot help who you fall in love with, and that is when you choose your sexuality. There is no age limit. No one can prevent it, and though they have tried with electric shock treatment, torture, making subjects watch TV about God 24/7, and conversion therapy, but it hasn’t worked. You name it, they have tried it. In 1979, when you are a gay teenager in what is then unacceptable Britain, you do not stand a chance once you are outed. You can only hope that it would be accepted sometime in the future, and that you will be able to walk down the street with the one you want to be with, the one you fancy, the one you love. Man or woman. Stephen returned to school the next day, much to his dismay. It was not if he had not tried to stay home, pretending he had a cough and temperature and felt sick. The problem was Rachel and his mother had heard it all before. They had the T-Shirt and had read the book. Even had a chance to write the book, especially Katie. She was now going through this for

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A Dish Best Served Cold the fourth child. So, Stephen met his best friend at the bus stop as usual. Mark had seen a sudden change in Stephen on the two occasions that he had seen him in the past 24 hours and was wondering if it was something that he had done or said, or if he was having second thoughts about the two of them going out together. Or perhaps he was having an off day? As he got off of his bus, he smiled at his boyfriend. Stephen was so glad to see him it was like he wanted to cry on his shoulder. He walked towards Mark and hugged him tightly for what seemed like ages. “What’s wrong, bud? Anything I can do?” “Just problems at home, as normal.” Stephen lied. “You are not having second thoughts then?” Mark asked cautiously as though he was going to receive the answer he did not want to hear. “No, no. Of course not. You are the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he replied, biting his lip but smiling at the same time. “I’m just hating school at the moment.” “But I thought you were loving it because you were playing rugby now?” Mark knew deep down that there was something wrong. What changed his view yesterday? He did not know. Maybe Stephen would tell him in time, but the chances of getting anything out of him right now were a million to one. “I think it is just my injury. I cannot play for a while until it has healed Mr Tynan says. Just when I get to doing something I like, it’s gone.” He was melancholy, but knew he had to cheer up for Mark’s sake. Or even put on a brave face. In other words, lie.

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“We move on Saturday to Estover. Langdale Gardens. It’s living where we do at the moment that is getting me down as well.” “You are not still getting problems with Doddy, are you?” Mark asked concerningly. “No, no. Not at all. It is just so much has happened in that house. Since the age of three, all it has been is family feuds and deaths in the family for me. Like I said, you are a ray of sunshine. I need you right now, Mark.” “I need you too. Sometimes it is hard to speak to your mum because she doesn’t quite get it.” “Oh yes, I know that situation,” Stephen replied, frowning, and looking at the boy beside him at the same time. “You will come to see me at my new house, won’t you?” Mark nodded. “Hey, why wouldn’t I? We are together. You are my boyfriend.” As they reached the entrance to the school, Stephen said, “And you are mine, as well as my best friend.” He looked up the steps, somewhat worried if there was going to be some type of repeat performance today from Mr Mendham this week. “Come on, we had better go.” “Well do you need a hand on Saturday? I could come down early and help you and perhaps then find out where your new home is?” Mark was hoping that his buddy would say yes. “That sounds great. More hands the better. My mum will be happy you are coming.” Stephen now felt better about the move. He did not like change much, and this was a big move for him. Since day one he had lived at Montacute Avenue and still had the memories

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A Dish Best Served Cold of David and his Dad there, both the happy and the painful times. Perhaps at the new home, the ghosts would go away, and he would not hear the voices anymore. There were good points. No one knew him at Estover, and it would be a new start and perhaps some new friends. Hopefully, his Mum would be happier as well. There was even a big superstore at the top of the hill which he could go up and do the shopping at for his mum, so she did not have to worry about that and going to work. He had noticed that she was looking very tired recently. Rachel had said that they both had to help her as much as possible. The years were starting to take their toll on the lady. She was beginning to want an easy life which Rachel knew was the real reason for the move. “Mark, I’m probably going to see Mr Tynan after school tonight if he sets us homework in his lesson. It really helps me as sometimes I don’t understand it. I’m not as good as you. I do not want to be in the lower Maths set next year. So, the more I understand the better.” “Well you know if you need a hand, I’ll help you the best I can,” Mark replied, touching his hand secretly as though it was forbidden to do so. They both walked into the cloakroom to hang up their coats. Mark helped Stephen take his coat off and hung it up beside his. “That’s okay. Just let me know later. We will see if Tynan sets us any, first.” The two of them raced up the stairs to the first lesson. For once, they were on time, arriving before the school bell sounded.

Later that day, Stephen arrived at Mr Tynan’s room with his Mathematics book in hand. He had told Mark

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A Dish Best Served Cold that he needed help with the homework and said goodbye to him in the cloakroom with a peck on the cheek. Mr Tynan had told him just to walk in if he could see through the glass that he was not with anybody else, although he did appreciate the boy being courteous and polite. “How’s your leg, young man?” Mr Tynan asked, concerned for the boy’s injury. Stephen started to rub the top of his thigh as if Mr Tynan asking about it had triggered off a psychological pain. “It’s fine, Sir. Just a little bit sore now and again. It was so silly how I did it. I stepped off the bench, that was it. Twisted the muscle.” “Sometimes it is as easy as that,” Mr Tynan replied. “Just let it heal properly before you do any sport. You could let Mr Mendham look at it because he is a qualified sports physiotherapist.” “NO!” Stephen snapped quite forcefully before lowering his tone and saying calmly, “No. It’s alright. It will be fine soon I’m sure.” Tom Tynan seemed perplexed by the boy’s sudden reply. “Is everything alright? Anything you want to talk about?” “Yes, everything is good,” Stephen responded. He knew that he could probably trust Mr Tynan and tell him what had happened. But what if it was just innocent? Or Tom Tynan might defend his fellow member of staff and tell him what he had said? Where would that leave him? “Just as long as you are sure. Don’t want my star hooker out for awfully long before the end of term.” “I’m sure I won’t be,” Stephen jested, hoping that he would be ready for the cup games in order that they

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A Dish Best Served Cold could have a chance at going for the trophies and medals. Tom Tynan opened his book with all the homework’s he had handed out that day, just to make sure he was talking about the right things to his pupil. “I have to take notes,” he said jokingly. “Old age, and don’t say a word!” “You are not old, Sir,” Stephen said politely, trying to keep on the good side of his favourite teacher. “Correct answer,” Mr Tynan said cheekily. “Right. Sine, Cosine and Tangent. I hate this as well. Who was the idiot that gave you this homework?” “Mmmmm. You, Sir!” The boy was with his teacher for twenty minutes, and then thought he had understood that little bit better, so packed his schoolbag and thanked Mr Tynan before leaving. If he were lucky, he could run over to the bus stop and catch the bus at 16:35. He went into the cloakroom to collect his coat. As he turned around to leave, he jumped out of his skin. Silently, almost with stealth, Mr Mendham was behind him. “Bishop. I just wanted to talk to you.” “I have to catch my bus, Sir,” Stephen reacted nervously, slightly frightened of the teacher and what he might do after last time. “This won’t take long. Take a seat.” He pointed to the bench attached to the coat hooks. Stephen sat down, not taking his eyes off of Mr Mendham, who sat down beside him, close, almost too close. “The Headmaster has told me about your father. I am so sorry.” “Don’t be. I hadn’t seen him for years.”

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Mr Mendham put his hand on Stephen’s knee area and started squeezing and tapping the leg. “I want you to know that if you need to talk or anything, you can always come to me.” “Thank you, Sir.” Stephen’s body went tight and stiff with worry. Before the boy could make steps to move and leave the cloakroom, Mr Mendham asked, “How’s the thigh and hamstring injury?” Then he moved his hand up Stephen’s leg and touched the boy in the area of his crotch, rubbing the outline of his penis. It seemed to last forever, and Stephen’s body was locked with fright. But Mr Mendham suddenly removed his hand. “It seems ok to me. You just need to rest it. Go on, you will miss your bus.” Stephen grabbed his bag and ran out of school, shocked and feeling sick once again. It just wasn’t right, but who would believe him?

The weekend soon came around, and the lorry turned up at the crack of dawn to start moving the Bishop family out of the home they had been in for the last 20 years or so. Everyone helped out, Mark had turned up and he, Stephen, and Martin from across the road all carried various boxes and small items up to the lorry. Rachel’s boyfriend’s father offered to drive the lorry for them for which the Bishops were incredibly grateful, especially as Katie no longer had a man around the house. But Katie looked on it that even if things were back to the old days of Michael being around, they probably would not have moved at all. At the time, Stephen’s Dad just liked an easy life. How that had changed.

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Stephen had not told anyone, including Mark about the latest incident with his teacher at school, mainly because he was feeling embarrassed and guilty about the whole situation. He tried to keep everything under wraps and appear normal as he introduced Mark to his neighbour Martin as ‘a friend from school’. Martin was getting the impression that there was more to the two of them, as they appeared remarkably close, even down to the fact that they both kept touching each other or putting their arms around each other’s shoulders. Martin also appeared to be slightly distanced from some of their conversations. He was not sure, but he put it down to the fact that Stephen went to a different school now and had different friends there. Martin just went to good old Honicknowle Senior School. It did not worry him, as he would try as hard as he could, and school was what you made it in any case. “Okay,” Katie announced. “That’s the first lot loaded. I will go with Des and Ralph and get things done the other end, then we will be back. Stephen and Rachel, please make sure everything is packed whilst I am gone.” The two nodded back to her as she climbed in the cab of the lorry, struggling with her little legs to get her foot on the step, and having to receive a ‘pump up’ from Rachel’s boyfriend, Ralph. Everyone around laughed at the lady trying to get into the cab, but finally she was up and sitting in the seat. Ralph jumped up beside her and closed the door, and the lorry raced away. Just under two hours later they were back. Rachel, Stephen, Mark, and Martin had started lifting things up to the top of the garden path to make it easier when the empty lorry returned. Ralph got out of the

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A Dish Best Served Cold lorry and stayed at the door to help Katie down. In the end, he had to lift her off the step as she laughed. “The last time I had a lift from a gorgeous man was 1950, she said. My father lifted me out of the swings at the park.” Ralph went slightly embarrassed. He and Rachel had known each other for some time, ever since they were pupils at Burrington School, but they had just remained friends, even though everyone thought they were an item together. But recently it had got serious between them. Neither of them could imagine why it took them so long to get together, and neither could Ralph’s parents. They were both chalk and cheese, with Rachel being the protective fiery one, and he was just laid back and totally unlike Vicky’s last boyfriend Kelvin. He put Katie on the ground and then ran down to Rachel, packing her on the cheek and cuddling her tight. “Did everything go alright?” Rachel asked, actually thinking that this was the Bishops move, and nothing would go smoothly. “Well it’s all inside. We just put it in the front room so it can be sorted later.” He smiled and put his arms around her waist. “But yes, it went alright. We didn’t break anything. Well I don’t think we did, anyway!” They all started lifting the stuff that was at the top of the path into the lorry, and then Ralph and his father Des carried the last of the heavy items up the steps. Katie, Rachel, and Stephen went into the house for the very last time and looked around each room to check there was nothing left behind, but also to say

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A Dish Best Served Cold goodbye to their memories. Stephen went back outside and headed towards Martin. “Thanks for being my friend, Martin!” he said, hugging him close. “That is no problem. We have had some good times, haven’t we?” Stephen laughed. “We sure have. You are always invited out. I will let you know our telephone number as Mum says we are getting a telephone installed.” “Great,” his friend said. “Don’t leave it too long!” “Stephen shook his head. “I won’t. Promise.” Little did he know that the promise was going to be broken for an exceptionally long time. Thirty-five years in fact. But kids do tend to make promises that they forget about as life moves on. “Nice to meet you, Mark,” Martin shouted as he waved to Stephen’s school friend. Then pausing, he looked at Stephen, and whispered, “Can I ask you something?” “Yes, we are,” Stephen intercepted, guessing what Martin was going to ask as he had the feeling all morning that Martin was looking at them differently. “Please don’t say anything.” “I won’t, I won’t. You should know me by now! But if I notice, so will others.” Martin hugged him again. “Bye, buddy.” Katie and her daughter arrived at the top of the steps. “Right, Stephen, Mark and Rachel in the car with me. We will follow the lorry.” “Bye, Mrs Bishop,” Martin said, getting somewhat emotional that he was losing friends.

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“Oh, come here, you,” Katie said as she saw him choking up with tears. “You bloody idiot. We are only moving a few miles away. You can come over whenever you want, and I’m sure you will see Stephen soon.” “Thanks,” Martin said. “I hope you will be happy in the new house,” he said and then he watched them all leave. He waved and Stephen waved back for a few seconds. Then they were gone. Away from Honicknowle. Away from some unbelievably bad memories.

Stephen had Mark for the time being. Otherwise, when Mark was not around, what was he going to do? He would have to make new friends in the area. But he was not particularly good making the initial conversation with people. He trusted who he trusted. Stephen either liked you or he did not. He either trusted you or he did not. There was not an in between. He did not know Estover very well. It was quite a new estate that was being built up, with Thornbury, Mainstone and Leigham being its surrounding estates. Mark had been a big help in the move, not only in the hard work, but supporting Stephen as well. He could see that Stephen was having a hard time coping with the sudden change, and at every moment that he could, the pair hugged for reassurance. It was time for a break from the unpacking. Stephen went down the stairs from his new bedroom, closely followed by Mark, who just wanted to be able to cuddle him at any time, but knew they had to keep things secret. “Mum?” “Yes, love?”

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“Is it okay if I go out for a bit?” Stephen shouted, not realising his mum was closer to him that he thought. He was used to the large house with a dining room, but they had downsized as the recent newly built type of house were smaller, with no separate dining room. Katie looked at her watch to check the time because Mark had told her he had to be home by 7pm tonight. “Yes, that’s fine. Don’t be too long as I want you to start unpacking your things.” “Okay!” Stephen opened the door and the pair went out, up to the next block where Stephen knew there was a small park after his pre-moving visit. They sat on the bench next to the slide. Stephen laughed as he realised it was not really a slide as such. Slides were the big long things that you climbed steps to the top, like the one in Tavistock Park, where his mother often used to take them on Sundays. This was a climbing frame for little kids, with a thing that looked like a slide for them, not too long so they would not gain much momentum when their parents caught them at the bottom. Mark looked around the area, saw no one was around, and grabbed Stephen’s hand. “I want to be alone with you.” “Me too. Somewhere where we can be us, and not on edge all the time,” Stephen replied as he kept looking around to check that no one was looking at them. “I mean, I suppose we are boyfriends. Strange feeling, isn’t it?” “You cannot control who you fall for. Whether it’s a boy or a girl.” Mark leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Does your family suspect anything?” “I don’t think so. I think they have been too busy arranging to move recently,” Stephen responded trying

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A Dish Best Served Cold to keep his voice down slightly as they were in an open place, and it looked like the kind of neighbourhood where people looked out of their windows from behind the curtains to get the gossip. “What about yours?” Mark shook his head. “Mum is at work a lot. My brother is always out with his mates or his girlfriend. He does make suggestive remarks about me getting a girlfriend.” “I get that a lot from my mum and sister. You would think that they would shut up knowing that we both go to an all-boys school. I mean, the only girl is Jarman!” Stephen started laughing, and Mark joined him in the process. “You know he is gay, don’t you?” Mark exclaimed, looking to see if Stephen was going to be shocked because he didn’t know.” “No way! How many more in our class? We will all be wearing pink uniforms in a minute.” “Phillip Ryan. Ian Coles. There are five of us in the class of twenty-six.” Stephen looked at Mark with some shock. “Wow. And that’s the ones we know about.” Mark smiled and started rubbing Stephen’s hand. “I’ve got the best one, though.” Stephen heard him, but only in his subconscious mind because he was thinking of something else. “Mark. What we did the other week at yours. Are we doing it right? Mean I have never seen any schoolbooks telling us if we are.” “Now that would be funny,” Mark laughed. “Going into the library and saying to the Librarian, ‘Excuse me Miss Partridge, but have you got any manuals on how to have gay sex with your boyfriend?’.

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Stephen joined in the laughter. “Could you imagine her face?” Then he started to mimic her voice, “Oh, oh. Master Dawe. We do not have such abominations!” Their laughter calmed, and there was a silence before Mark got eye contact with him. “To be quite honest, I think we kiss great. The other stuff, well we both cum after masturbating each other. But there is something else I want to try with you. It’s a surprise until next time.” He saw the look on Stephen’s face. “I’ve seen it in a book.” “I can’t wait until I see you again.” “Me neither,” Mark replied. “What about next Saturday?” “Sounds fine. Mum will be in town and then down my Auntie Vi’s until 5pm. Rachel is at work until 4pm, and usually meets mum to help her with carrying the shopping home. So, we will have the house to ourselves until about 5pm.” “And of course, we will see each other at school.” “Same place on Monday?” Stephen asked with a happy loving smile. Mark nodded. “We had better go and have dinner. Then I have to head home, but I wish I were staying with you. I think about you day and night when I’m alone.” “Well you’re only human,” Stephen replied cheekily, receiving a thump on the arm for his humour from his boyfriend as they both laughed their time away.

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Back at Honicknowle, Martin was already missing his long-time friend. He sat on the wall outside his house wondering what to do to amuse himself. He just seemed slightly lost without Stephen, and he certainly didn’t want to make friends with the new boy on the block. Stephen and him always went up the park together, or played war with toy guns, or went down the ‘tip’ behind his house. Not that it was a real tip. It would probably be thought of as an area of beauty in the future, but the kids used to call it the tip for ease. Most of the time they used to climb the trees. Martin remembered the time he climbed too high up a huge oak tree, and could not get down, so Stephen had to go and get Martin’s mother. She hated heights, so they had to call the fire brigade, who could not get their vehicle down the tip because it was mostly uneven or marsh grounds. So, they had to carry their biggest manual ladder down to the tree. Needless to say, he get a roasting from the fire chief! But Stephen was gone. Now he was at risk, as there were no others like Stephen in the neighbourhood who would stand by you in trouble. He noticed Nigel Dodd stood outside his house about 200 yards away on the opposite side of the green. ‘The Triangle’ as Stephen used to call it. Stephen never went on it after 27th February 1976, Rachel’s birthday. They were supposed to be going out to celebrate. Stephen cut his hand quite severely on a broken glass bottle and they landed up going to A&E at Freedom Fields for the night. Rachel never let him live it down. Nigel was suddenly joined by two other boys. Martin became suspicious of them. Could they be the same two boys who had beaten Stephen up at primary

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A Dish Best Served Cold school? Whoever they were, he had a bad feeling about this. Nigel was pointing over at Martin, and the three of them were laughing. Martin knew he could not fight the three of them. He reached into his trouser pocket for his front door key, and then walked down his steps into his house, asking himself why his best friend had moved away.

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Chapter 14

Revenge is a dish that is best served cold, and the longer you wait, the colder it gets. Behavioural scientists, often describing the psychology surrounding revenge as complicated have observed that instead of quenching hostility, revenge can prolong the unpleasantness of the original offense. That merely bringing harm upon an offender is not enough to satisfy a person’s vengeful spirit. So, the longer you wait to exact that revenge, the colder you feel inside and the less guilt you feel when it finally happens. Go through history and there can be found many retributions for something that has been carried out on oneself, or even the family or friends of that person. Some cases have been justified, some have not. Some have been controversial and glorified in auto biographies and movies. There is nothing worse than going through life knowing that there is one day going to be some type of reprisal for something you once did to someone.

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Should children feel the need for revenge? They do incredibly early in life. They begin to feel wronged by things that are important to a child, which may not seem important to an adult. That child can grow up in life feeling worthless or unloved. Absent fathers who do not bother after the marriage dissolves, or who are the subjects of being a one-night stand that went wrong. The child resents them. It is always in the back of their subconscious memory. It has been known in early age for them to take their revenge out on a younger member of the family because things are not fair. They become protective over their possessions. Possessions can be seen as friends or family. If someone wrongs them, it exacts revenge in that resentful child’s subconscious memory. Something that happened, what could be years ago, comes to the forefront of the psych, and the strange lust for getting their own back overtakes the emotion of kindness. When there are happy times at home, the emotions are different. When things do not quite go to plan in the family, the emotions are deep and angry, and they start using their emotions in a different way. The harm they want to submit is pure fear. The things we fear the most have already happened to us. What about the fear yet to come?

Nigel Dodd and his two henchmen had been following Martin for some time, trying to work out his movements and what he normally did at a certain time of day. They had concluded that the easiest time to catch him would be right after school. He only went to Honicknowle Secondary which was quite close to home and was close to the shops. What was going to make it easier

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A Dish Best Served Cold was that Martin used to turn down Harewood Crescent at the first turning to walk home rather than walk straight down Montacute Avenue and walk down past where Stephen used to live. The first turning to Harewood Crescent also had the main entrance to the waste ground which the kids called ‘The Pink Path’. It was a perfect place Nigel told his two henchmen. It was set then. The following day, the Thursday. Martin came out of the main school entrance, bag over his shoulder and headed home. Tomorrow he was visiting Stephen for a sleepover, so was excited to get home. He walked quicker than normal, and then followed the same route that he always had. His mother could never understand him doing so, but ever since Stephen had moved, he would not walk past his house. In reality he did not trust Nigel Dodd after seeing him wait for him the day Stephen moved, although carrying on down Montacute Avenue was probably the safer option. The two henchmen were hidden behind the wall waiting at the edge of the pink path in Harewood Crescent. Nigel followed Martin home from school at some distance in order that he was not seen. He watched as the boy made his usual turn. It was only minutes away. Nigel would get his own back. The look on his face was haunting, eyes blackened and staring at the boy in front. How would he get away with it? He would not do anything or be seen by Martin. He would not even get involved in the beating that was coming Martin’s way. Any minute now. Martin was nearly there. As planned, the two boys grabbed Martin whilst he was unaware and not expecting it to happen. They threw an old coal bag over his head and dragged him

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A Dish Best Served Cold into the undergrowth beside the path. All Martin could do was scream, although his screams were muffled by the soot in the bag and the fact that it was over his head. The two thugs threw him in the bushes and then started kicking the bag, not being able to see where on his body their blows were landing. Inside, Martin was receiving kick after kick to his head as he screamed in pain, the screams becoming a cry. Stomach, head, between the legs, chest, head again, and then someone was stamping on his arms and legs. His body went lifeless as it could not withstand the pain any longer. Martin has passed out. “Hold on,” said one of Nigel’s gang. “He’s out of it!” “Let’s go,” snapped the other, placing a final kick to the head before he started running up the pink path towards Harewood Crescent. He saw Nigel at the entrance. “It’s done,” he said. “Let’s go.” All three of them started to run up towards Nigel’s house, but as they did, they bumped into a lady who was pushing a pram, knocking it off balance and onto two wheels. “Oi, you,” The woman shouted. “Watch where you are going! Bloody kids!” She steadied her pram and then headed towards the pink path, still shaking her head. She was down about 10 metres when suddenly she heard someone moaning. At first, she thought it might have been one of the ‘Dirty old men’ that frequented the area and were known to hide in the bushes to masturbate. But this groaning was different. She put the brake on the pram and tried to listen as to where the groaning was coming from. She saw a pair of legs. Then a bag covered body. Then she screamed. “Oh my God! Help! Help!”

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The ambulance had arrived and taken Martin to A&E. They cut off the bag from around his head and torso, gasping at the wounds that he had received after his kicking. He was unconscious again, slipping in and out all the time. Martin’s mother and sisters arrived and at first did not recognise him because of all the bruises, cuts, and wounds. No doubt from the look of him, his mother thought, he would have internal injuries or broken bones as well. “Who could have done this to him?” Janet asked, worried that someone had it in for her brother. “What sort of animal?” Martin’s mum took his hand. Even though he was unconscious, she thought, he might feel something. “I can guess,” she said. “He keeps going on about Nigel.” “Is that the boy across the road?” she asked as her mum nodded to her. “Why would he do it?” “Well he was about to have a fight of some kind with Stephen, but Martin intervened, and this Nigel came off worse for wear it appears.” She looked upwards and saw two uniformed Police Officers coming towards them. “Looks like we have visitors.” “Mrs Bishop? Hello, I am DS Molineux from Charles Cross Police. This is DC Hollis.” Both officers flashed their warrant cards as the Sergeant opened up his notebook, flipping back the cover and finding a blank page. “I’m sorry what has happened to your son, Mrs Bishop.” “Not a pretty sight, is he?” She replied.

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Janet, already upset by what she was seeing, looked at the two. “Do you know who done this, Officers?” “We are investigating. We have a witness it appears who saw three boys running away from the scene.” “Was she the one that found him?” “Yes, I believe so. She called for an ambulance as soon as she could.” DS Molineux looked at his notes. “Is there any reason why Martin would have been in such a lonely area?” Both women shook their heads. “Martin walks down Harewood Crescent on his way home from school. It does pass the entrance to the path.” She thought for a moment, her face looking distant. “He normally come right home though because he is always hungry and wants to get out of his school clothes.” “Does he have anyone that dislikes him or might want to harm him in this way?” DC Hollis piped up, also writing things down in his book. “Has he had any fights at school?” “He has been saying to me about a fracas between him, his friend Stephen and a Nigel Dodd, who lives at number 17 Montacute Avenue,” Janet responded. “Stephen? Do you know his last name?” “Bishop.” “Oh,” said DS Molineux surprised that they had the same name. “Is he a relative?” “No. Just had the same name. He was Martin’s best friend, but they moved to Estover a few weeks

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A Dish Best Served Cold ago,” Janet continued, rearranging her facial look in between her brother and the two officers. “Do you have Stephen Bishop’s full address? We may need to speak to him.” DS Molineux began to think that this was a revenge beating. But these normally took place between adults, not kids. Not this bad in any case. He could not believe the injuries sustained and guessed that the three that were seen running away from the area were probably the three responsible. For one child to do this on his own would be quite an impossible task. “Langdale Gardens. But I don’t know the number off the top of my head.” Janet was searching every avenue in her brain for the number but could not remember what her brother’s friend had told them all. Both officers flicked their books shut and replaced them in their pockets. “It’s ok. We can find him from that. We will leave it there but will see you again.” Martin’s mum looked up briefly, “Thank you,” she said.

The next day, the two Police Officers drove up alongside the row of houses, having found out that Stephen lived in number 115. Banging on the door, the little Lady answered. “Mrs Bishop? DS Molineux and DC Hollis.” “Yes, that’s me,” Katie replied. Seeing the two of them there brought back memories of that day in 1969, and she began to worry that something was seriously wrong. “Could we speak to Stephen? It is ok. He’s not in any trouble.” They walked in as Katie opened the door wide and both wiped their feet on the doormat.

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“Stephen?” Katie shouted in the direction of upstairs. “There’s two Police Officers here that need to speak to you!” Stephen came to the top of the stairs and then walked down them carefully. It was something that had been drummed into him as a child by his mother, and now at the age of fourteen, he finally took notice. Katie pointed the officers in the direction of the living room. “Do you want to go in there and take a seat? Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” “No thanks, we are fine thanks, Mrs Bishop. This won’t take long and then we will be out of the way.” The officer watched Stephen sit down. He was nervous, as he did not know what he had done to warrant a visit from the police. Katie sat down beside him for some reassurance. “So, what is the problem Officer?” Katie said, putting her arm around the shoulders of her worried son. “It’s about Martin Bishop. Stephen, I believe that he and you were close friends?” The officer smiled. “Yes,” Stephen replied. “When I lived near him. We don’t see each other much now, although he is coming out tomorrow night after school for a sleep over.” “Is everything alright with Martin?” Katie asked, getting worried as to why they had to speak to Stephen. The officer changed his attention back to Stephen’s mother. “Not exactly,” he said looking at Stephen. “I’m afraid that Martin won’t be coming to see you tomorrow. He was assaulted possibly by three youths in Harewood Crescent last night and received multiple injuries. He is in quite a bad way.”

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“Doddy!” Stephen snapped. “It has to be Doddy!” “Doddy? Would that be Nigel Dodd?”” The Officer asked, remembering what he had been told by Martin’s sister earlier. “It’s just the second time I have heard that name today.” Stephen nodded. “We had a fight back along when Doddy attacked us with a piece of wood. Doddy came off worse.” He went into deep thought. His mate Martin attacked, and he was not there to help him. He looked at his mother. “Mum can I go and see him?” The Officer looked at him and remembering the vision of Martin in the A&E hospital bed remarked, “It’s probably not a good idea at the moment. He is not actually on a ward at the moment. We left him in accident and emergency, and I think they were going to operate in some way.” “Oh no,” Katie said with sorrow in her voice, as she began to worry for Martin’s mother and understand what she must be going through right now. It was ten years ago that David had gone but was in a similar way when he was in hospital. The flashbacks continued momentarily until she snapped out of her glance. “So how long have you known Nigel Dodd?” The Officer asked Stephen. He could tell that the boy was distraught with the news of his friend. He had seen it before on other cases that had the same type of situation. “They were both at primary school together,” Katie intercepted. “Yes. He was a bully there. He used to beat the other kids up for their dinner money and bus fare. Him and his two goons. He is a coward when he is on his

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A Dish Best Served Cold own. Then he moved just across the road from us both and instantly wanted to start trouble.” The two officers looked at each other. So, at primary school he had two fellow accomplices and the witness reported seeing three boys running away from the scene. Could this just be coincidence? “Do you know the names of these two boys, Stephen?” The boy nodded. “How could I forget? Colin Bettison and Michael Dwyer.” He started to remember the troubles he had at primary school, the beatings, the days he had to walk home from school because he had no money for bus fare, the days he hadn’t eaten because they had stolen every last penny he had. But then he went into a world of his own. The voices in his head were telling him that the three of them had to be taught a lesson. They were echoing over and over again, just like when a toddler repeats everything to get their own way. What was he going to do? He had to avenge this for his mate. An eye for an eye. ‘You can’t let them get away with this.’ The voice inside his head said to him. His mother saw his stare, and said, “Stephen, Stephen,” as she shook his shoulder to get him out of the trance. “I’m sorry, he sometimes goes like this.” “Wakey, wakey,” DC Hollis said as he watched the boy come out of his seizure. “Welcome back to the land of the living!” “What?” Stephen’s brain did not register where he was at first, and who these other people were around him, including his mother. He looked confused, his brain totally disorientated as though he had been spinning around in the playground for some time and had arrived in a chaotic place. Then he snapped out of

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A Dish Best Served Cold his trance. “Yes. I am not sure if they still hang around together. Not even sure if they go to the same school. All I know is they don’t go to mine!” The two officers stood up, ready to leave. “Well we will leave it there, Mrs Bishop. Thank you for the information, Stephen. It has been extremely helpful. We can see ourselves out Mrs Bishop.” With that the two walked out of the front door and Katie and Stephen both stood in the living room and watched them leave. “Poor Martin!” Katie said. “We will have to arrange to go up and see him,” she mentioned as she pulled him into her and kissed him on the top of his head. “Don’t worry. I am sure he will be okay. He is in the right place.” Katie could see the anger in her son’s eyes. It was that usual look when he was filled with emotionally charged rage when something or someone had wronged him. She guessed that at some point she would need to calm him down. How she would do that was getting beyond her the older he got. “Perhaps we will go up the weekend, love. I’m on duty tomorrow so I will pop over in my uniform and weigh up the visiting situation.” “Thanks, Mum,” he replied, hugging her around the waist with both arms. “He is still my friend, even though we don’t live across the road from each other anymore.” “I know. I know. Why don’t you pop up Asda and get him a card, and then I can take it to him tomorrow for you?” She reached for her purse which was in its usual place on top of the mantelpiece. “Here. £1. I want the change!” “Thanks, Mum.”

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“Don’t be long!” She added as she watched him go out the front door.

The weekend soon arrived. Katie had arranged with Martin’s mother for them to visit him on her day off, the Sunday, which was perfect for Stephen as he had asked Mark to come over on the Saturday, because Mum was working on the Saturday and Rachel wouldn’t be back home until about 4pm. Mark banged on the door and invited himself in as Stephen opened it. He had been told about Martin at school, and knew his boyfriend needed hugs, which he immediately responded with as soon as he closed the front door. “Come upstairs! I have the Scalextric set up in my room,” Stephen said, grabbing the boy’s hand and leading him up the stairs. Mark stopped and pulled Stephen back, and grabbed a kiss as he did so which lasted a while until they went upstairs and pushed the door open. Both of them looked at the racing set on the floor. “Cool,” said Mark, marvelling at the amount of track that Stephen had circling his bedroom floor several times. “Is it on?” “Yes, I set it up last night because I knew you were coming around,” he replied, watching as Mark sat on the floor and grabbed a controller. Stephen went over and joined him. “What cars have you got?” Mark asked, looking at the two on the track, and at the boxed ones on the small bedroom table over the other side of the room. Stephen looked at them as well, stretching his head and neck up in order that he could see over the

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A Dish Best Served Cold bed. “A Mixture. The two on the track are touring cars, dirt racers. I have formula one and some more dirt racers over there!” Mark jumped up, still holding his controller as the cable stretched in order that he could get a closer look at the cars on the side. He picked one up. “Excellent! You have the Ferrari!” “Put it on if you want. Bring me over the Mercedes, and we will race in a competition! Thirty laps, if you come off the track, you take away one lap.” The cars were changed and put on the start line, and the race commenced. Stephen could not get used to a faster speed than what he had practiced at on his own, whereas Mark was obviously something of an expert for his age. “What lap are you on?” Mark asked excitingly without taking his eyes off the Ferrari. “I’m on 23!” Stephen smiled. “I would be on 23, but I have come off three times!” “Looks like I am going to kick your arse then!” Mark replied, suddenly watching his car fly off the track. “Damn!” he exclaimed, jumping up as quick as he could to retrieve the toy vehicle. “Here’s my chance!” Stephen got excited with the fact he might be able to catch him up, as he watched Mark from the corner of his eye step back over the track, and then struggle to get the two electric contacts lined up with the groove of the track. “I’m two laps behind you! No hold on, you have to take one lap off! That makes me one behind!” “There’s still time, babes! I just have to be careful.” He watched his car with eager awareness, as did his opponent who was beginning to show promise

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A Dish Best Served Cold on getting around the sharp corners and skid chicanes that he had earlier added in the construction of the track. Stephen actually wished he had practiced that little bit more after making it and adjusted any problematic issues. But that would have made it easier for Mark as well. “Lap 29!” Mark said joyously. Stephen was beginning to admit defeat and said, “I’m right behind you!” as he looked at Mark’s car approaching the finish line. “Although I’m not going to catch you!” “Yes!” Mark exclaimed, jumping up to his feet and waving his hands in the air. “The master wins again!” “Well done, although I wasn’t far behind you! Next time. Rematch needed later.” “No problem,” Mark said, falling back on to Stephen’s bed. Now come and give me my prize for winning!” He flicked his hands towards him as if to indicate to join him on the bed and watched as Stephen did not disappoint his request.

An hour later, the two lovers laid under the covers in each other’s arms, their clothes removed. Neither of them knew if what they had done was the right way, but they did not regret it. The two enjoyed each other, as friends reliant on each other, and as boyfriends. Stephen knew it would be hard to explain to another human being how he felt inside his stomach about Mark, who was a little less naïve than him. Was it wrong? Stephen did not think so. He looked at the alarm clock. 2.20pm. Plenty of time, he thought. Then they cuddled and both closed their eyes.

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Rachel opened the front door with her key. “Stephen? Are you home?” She frowned because he usually was. Perhaps he was in his bedroom with his headphones on again, listening to his music. She placed her handbag down on the table just inside the door and walked up the stairs. “Stephen? Are you home?” There was no reply. She walked towards his closed bedroom door and did her usual thing of just walking right in on him. Except this time was different. Stephen and Mark both woke in horror, cowering under the covers. “Shit!” Stephen said. Rachel screamed in horror and shock. Her brother was in bed with another boy. “What the hell are you doing? No, I do not want to know. Stephen this is wrong!” Stephen sat up. “Get out Rachel! You should knock first!” “Stephen, you are in bed with your friend Mark! It is disgusting! You wait until Mum hears about this. You are in for it!” She shook her head and looked at the floor, left hand on her forehead. “No. I can’t take this in. How long has this been going on? No, do not tell me. I don’t want to know,” she said angrily as she paced back and forth in his room. “Please, don’t tell Mum, Rachel.” Stephen looked at her, but she could not look him in the eye. He saw a look of disgust in her face. “Do you think I should go?” Mark asked, also worried for the both of them. “No!” Stephen looked at him and smiled. Rachel stared at Mark and snapped, “Yes, I think you should go and never come back. Just what have you two done?

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Stephen looked at her. “Get out of the room and we will get dressed.” She did, closing the door behind her. Both boys jumped out of the bed, and each searched for their underwear. “Shit!” Mark said, sitting on the edge of the bed to put his socks back on. “You could say that.” Stephen hesitated and bit his lip. Mark reached over to him and pulled him towards him. The two kissed. “I better get out of the way. I’ll call you later.” Stephen nodded as he watched the boy leave. He knew the worst was yet to come. His sister would probably tell his mum and his relationship with his sister would never be the same again. He listened for the front door to close, and then he took a deep breath. He had to speak to Rachel before his mother got home from the town. He went downstairs and into the front room. Rachel was sat on the sofa appearing to watch the television. Stephen took another breath. He was nervous because of what she had seen. He had been caught. “Don’t even go there, Stephen!” She said nastily. “I am disgusted. You with another boy? It is disgusting.” Come right to the point, he thought to himself. “Are you going to say anything to Mum? I have to know.” “I have to. There are consequences for sleeping with someone of your own sex. Dirty diseases and everything.” Rachel was out of her depth, but thought she knew more about this subject than she actually did. “Mum will need to get you checked out at the Doctor’s.”

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“You don’t need to tell her. You and me always keep secrets.” Rachel turned and looked at him with hating eyes. “Not this time!”

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Chapter 15

No amount of guilt can change the past, and no amount of worrying will change the future. Some people feel guilt for the least little thing, not telephoning a relative for instance. Some people do not feel any guilt at all and in similar circumstances would not care as their lives are more valuable to them in other areas. That is what they think. Locked in their own self-importance and without a care for anyone in the world. Now sometimes with accepted guilt comes embarrassment, for you or for others such as your friends or family members. Guilt and embarrassment can be experienced by the victim as well as, or instead of, the perpetrator. The perpetrator can make their victim believe that it was their fault, so the guilt is passed on. But what happened could have already caused the victim to be embarrassed, leading to them becoming silent, afraid to tell anyone, withdrawn, anxious or depressed, for a lifetime in some cases. It becomes a mental illness.

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Prisoners are released from jail having been through different courses depending on their crime. They are supposedly meant to feel the guilt for their crime and earn in most cases, an early release. But reoffending statistics show that over 30% of adult offenders and over 40% of juvenile offenders reoffend upon release from prison. Do these feel their guilt or embarrassment for the crimes that they commit? Or do they feel safer in the prison system than outside? Life lets people down. Social injustice. What makes someone do what they do? They have a choice to make their own decision. Like turning left or right at a T junction, you can only choose to do so if one of the roads is not closed off in some way, or the road signs dictate that you should not turn that way. So, in life, turning the right way should be dictated by your road sign, your parents who brought you into the world, and teachers, and any responsible adult who you have contact with in your young life. So, a child’s life has a knock-on effect. The adults in direct contact with you have let you down after being let down themselves by the adults in direct contact with them, and so on. Because what goes through life in generations is the belief of normal behaviour, or the belief of what is right and what is wrong. What you are told by life.

Rachel had patiently waited for her mother to return home. She felt that they needed to knock this on the head right now, whilst Stephen was quite young. She wanted him to have a girlfriend, get married, have children, and not be so perverted in her view to live with a man. Stephen had disappeared outside, probably to

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A Dish Best Served Cold hide away because he knew what she was going to do. There was no choice. It had disgusted her. She had no idea what they had or had not done. But they were naked and under the bed covers. She had heard it on the news about real life issues. In addition, it was illegal as both boys were under 21. Rachel heard the key being put in the lock on the front door. “I’m home!” Katie announced as she put her bag down beside the hallway table. “God, what a day. Work then shopping.” She walked into the sitting room to see her daughter stood there with a serious look on her face. “What’s wrong? Has your goldfish died?” “Not quite,” Rachel replied concerningly. “I need to talk to you about Stephen.” Katie looked around expecting to see the boy. “Oh yes? Where is he? “He’s gone out. You know him he won’t be far.” Rachel sat back down and began to think about how she was going to say what she had to say to her mother. She had an idea whilst her mother was not there, but that idea had already gone out the window and been forgotten. She watched her mother sit down beside her. “Have you noticed anything different with Stephen?” “Well there is plenty different with Stephen. Different in what way?” “Him and his friend Mark?” Rachel was trying her hardest not to use the shock treatment that her mother would have used in true ‘matron’ form. “Don’t you think they are a bit close?” “Well I’ve had my suspicions. I wouldn’t be his mother if I didn’t.” Katie saw something in her eyes.

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“So, what do you know that I don’t? Come on, spit it out!” “I think Stephen may be queer. I came home early today and caught them together in bed with no clothes on.” Katie was not shocked or surprised. “Like I said. I had my suspicions. But I did not know it was that serious. That they had gone that far.” She thought for a few moments. “Do you know what they have done?” “No, I didn’t ask. But don’t you think it is disgusting? Two boys, I mean.” “Well he won’t be the first and he definitely won’t be the last,” Katie exclaimed, the thought of her next move already gathering in her head. “Well, we had better get him in and see what he has to say for himself. But knowing Stephen, it is probably just a phase. In a few week’s he would have moved on to something else. You know what he is like.” “Yes, but we need to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. What about taking him to the Doctors? Perhaps he can give him something for it?” Rachel was naïve when it came to homosexuality and like a lot of other things thought that it could be cured with a pill. “He is breaking the law.” “What? You think that there is some anti-queer pill available over the counter at the pharmacy?” Katie did not want to laugh at her daughter’s lack of understanding, but inside she was chuckling to herself. “But perhaps a chat from the Doctor would help him understand the dangers. Stephen does tend to get on with Dr Armstrong.” She looked at her watch. “Right, go find him before I start dinner.”

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“Okay Mum. He’s probably skulking up the next block like he normally does.” Stephen had sat on the bench beside a girl that he had seen around but never talked to before. At first, he did not say anything, as he was feeling quite shy and had the thought of his sister telling his Mum on his mind. He just wanted to be alone. But then he realised he needed a friend. “You live in this row of houses, don’t you?” The girl nodded with a mixture of shyness and being unsure about the situation. “I live the next row down. I’m Stephen.” He held out his hand, doing things the old- fashioned way and wanting to introduce himself with a handshake. “Tara,” she replied. “You have not long moved in, have you?” “No. Couple of weeks. Already I am in trouble.” Stephen squinted with the sunlight flashing in his eyes through the trees at the far end of the small park. Tara smiled. “Same here. What have you done wrong? Me I did not vacuum whilst my parents were out. End of the world or what?” “Wow,” Stephen said, turning his head back and forth to look at her. “Well, I wish mine was just the vacuuming. Do you want to swap parents?” “Come on,” Tara said inquisitively laughing at him. “You have to tell me now!” “I slept with someone I like, and my sister caught us in bed together this afternoon. There.” He looked directly at her and smiled. “Was it someone from around here? There are plenty of girls who will drop their knickers for free in this

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A Dish Best Served Cold area, believe me.” Tara returned the look, trying to maintain their eye contact. “Well, it wasn’t a girl. It was a boy,” Stephen replied, feeling his cheeks red up with a little bit of embarrassment that he had told a complete stranger something that he couldn’t even tell his family. “I’m gay. My boyfriend and I go to the same School. Mark. We had just finished when my sister walked in.” “Oh my god,” Tara responded with positivity. “That is so cool. A gay kid in the neighbourhood.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll let you know how cool it is later. My dear Sister is going to tell my mum. I am expecting guns blazing.” For once he was calm. He could not care what was going to happen when he went home. “What do you think your mum is going to do?” Tara asked concerningly, not knowing just what type of parents Stephen had. Hers on the other hand just used to shout when something was wrong. Like her not vacuuming when told. It would all be forgotten by tomorrow. Whereas Stephen’s conundrum was slightly different. “Well, she will probably put me across her knee and smack my arse, like she always does when I am in trouble!” He laughed. “Do parents still do that?” Stephen smirked at her. “Believe me. Me and my sisters used to say to her, Mum, use the slipper, it’s softer than your hand!” “What are you going to do then? About the gay thing and your family?” Tara seemed really concerned for the boy and she could see that deep inside, he was, as she would say, ‘bricking it’.

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Stephen sighed a big sigh. “I’ll just have to tell them the truth. About me and Mark. How we like each other. How it has gone far enough to more than be classed as liking each other. Apart from that, I don’t know.” “I’d hate to be in your shoes!” “Right now, I’d hate to be in my shoes,” Stephen said in a joking manner, ending in a chuckle. “It’s no fun being me. Ooops. I’m being called!” Rachel appeared at the top of the steps but did not see Stephen or his new companion at first because the climbing frame blocked her view. “Stephen!” “I had better go,” Stephen said, getting up to his feet. “Nice to meet you, Tara!” “You too gay boy!” She responded, jumping to her feet, and giving him a close hug. “I’m at number 105 if you ever want to come and have a yap.” “115. You can hop over the back fence!” “Good luck!” She whispered as she watched him walk towards his sister whilst looking back at her and shaking his head comically. She laughed and sat back down on the bench. Rachel saw him. “Mum wants you!” Stephen said nothing in return. He felt that for the first time in his life, he would not be able to trust his sister anymore. One more step for the family that was already battered and bruised with everything that had happened. He walked silently behind her as she walked down the steps, the thought going through his mind of giving her a push so she would fall. He smiled at the devious thought as she reached the bottom, and he told himself it was already too late. Home he went.

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“Stephen, love!” Mum said nicely to him. “Come here and have a seat. We need to have a bit of a chat.” He sat down in the chair opposite as Rachel made herself comfortable in a dining chair that she had dragged over beside the sofa. “Your sister has told me something very worrying that happened today. Do you want to give me your side of the story?” He hesitated, trying to think of what to say that his sister had not already told her. But he was speechless, and the words just could not come out. So, he stayed silent and guilty. But not embarrassed any longer. “Okay,” his mother continued. “Let me make it easy for you. You and your friend Mark.” “He’s my boyfriend,” Stephen said softly, not gaining any eye contact with the two women but looking beyond them both towards the window. Rachel shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. How old are you? Too young to have a boyfriend.” “Shush, Rachel.” Katie turned her head slightly but only to indicate that it was her she was speaking to. Then she looked at her son again. “Why do you think he is your boyfriend?” “We love each other. All the time.” “But it’s not normal for someone of your age to do that with someone of your own gender,” Katie retorted. “I have no problems with you being a homosexual, but when you are older. At 14, you are simply confused. Your hormones are all over the place.” “So, what would you have done Rachel if you had caught me in bed with a girl? I bet you wouldn’t

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A Dish Best Served Cold have said a bloody thing to Mum, but said, boys will be boys, and then gone and told your other half about my shag.” He stared at her with a nasty look filling his face. “Come on, tell me!” “Come on, Mum” Rachel snapped, waving one of her arms and pointing at her brother. “We are getting nowhere here.” “Mark will no longer be welcome in this house, Stephen. Do you understand me?” Katie said, deciding it was in his best interest. Would it stop them seeing each other? Probably not, she thought. After all, they went to the same school and were in the same class. Stephen looked angry. His face started glowing red, his eyes psychotic and staring at his sister. Then he stood up and walked towards the door, stopping at the entrance to the living room and turning. “You need to face the fact that I am queer, and no matter how much punishment you give me, in the end, I will probably always be queer!” Then he went towards the front door, slamming it shut as hard as he could, and running up the hill towards the bus stop. There was something he had to do. Especially in his current state of rage.

Two busses and just under an hour later, Stephen arrived in Tamar Way, just a stone’s throw away from his old house in Montacute Avenue. He looked at his watch. It was just past seven o’clock in the evening, and still light although it would not be long before the darkness of the evening started to materialise. He looked down into the park in Tamar Way, trying his hardest not to be seen. No one. All the kids had gone home. Hoping over the wall, he went into the park and

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A Dish Best Served Cold headed behind the houses on the grass field, down towards the back of Martin’s house. Going in through the back gate, he looked in Martin’s shed and found his old baseball bat that they used to use for rounders and then left his garden to walk down a bit further. Then he waited. He knew that if Nigel Dodd were not in the park, he would probably be down the tip. His family had no control over the boy and did not even set a bedtime for him to be in by. Stephen sat on the wall overlooking the tip but hidden by trees and bushes. Then he saw them. The three of them. They were splitting up, as Dwyer and Bettison lived the other side of the pink path in Brake Farm. Stephen wanted Doddy. The other two could live in fear. Fear that something might or might not happen to them. He watched as the two henchmen started to walk over the field in the opposite direction. The sky had darkened. Stephen made his move, quietly, swiftly, like a stealth fighter he positioned himself behind a wall about twenty yards in front of the boy. He heard footsteps crunching on the stones below Doddy’s feet. He had to time this exact. Unexpected. Culprit unseen. Bang! He swung the baseball bat in Nigel’s face, instantly rendering the boy unconscious and he fell backwards onto the hard ground. Stephen said nothing. But his attack was not over. No way was it over. Baseball bat raised above his head, he struck the body over and over again, up, and down, head to toe. Finally, he stopped. The attacker looked at the bleeding body on the ground, then looked around. There was no one to be seen in the vicinity, but even if there was, they would

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A Dish Best Served Cold probably congratulate him and say nothing to the law. He ran, baseball bat in hand, towards the tip and the pink path, stopping to dip it into the stream under the small footbridge to clean the blood and then wiping the bat in the grass. Then he washed the blood off his coat. He wrapped a piece of paper that he found on the ground around the handle of the baseball bat in order that he could carry it without getting his fingerprints back on it. He had to get in front of Dwyer and Bettison without being seen. He had another plan. He could see their silhouettes in front of him, but the darkness slightly hid both his and their existence. They were slowly walking up the pink path, stopping to vandalise the trees by using what looked like a knife to scratch their names into the bark. Their delay gave Stephen his opportunity. He went up a mud path that children had made as a short cut between the lower twist of the pink path and the upper twist. Keeping his eye on the two, he silently and swiftly made it to the end of the mud path and then headed up the last strip to where the pink path met Honicknowle Lane. Then, out of sight of the main footpath, about 6 feet down the pink path, he placed the baseball bat on the ground. Then he ran over the road and down towards the bus stop where he would be able to see the two cross the road towards their homes in Brake Farm. Stephen waited for what seemed like a lifetime but was only in fact a few minutes. The two boys came over the horizon of the pink path. He looked, the darkness surrendering his vision. But then he saw what he wanted. Michael Dwyer had found and picked up the baseball bat and was swinging it around as though he was on the pitch.

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He smiled, the evil smile. Mission accomplished, he said to himself as he waited for the bus home. The only thing he would have to explain is why he was late home. He would think of something, but his rage that had filled his head before had now passed. Sold. Given away to the revenge. Two buses back home for him, and it was the evening service, so it was twenty to ten in the evening before he returned home. He did not announce his homecoming but went straight upstairs to his bedroom, slamming the door to let whoever was home know that he was home, and he did not want any contact.

The next day, Katie kept her promise and took Stephen up to see his friend Martin. Katie began to wonder whether there was actually anything between him and Martin just as it had materialised that there was between him and Mark. She did not think so. Martin was too verbal, too masculine. They walked into the ward and Katie was instantly recognised. “Hi there, Katie. Not working? The nurse said, approaching them and realising just who it was. “No, I have a day off for once,” she joyously replied. “I need it!” “I’m sure you do. Are you here to see someone then?” “Yes,” Katie replied. “Martin Bishop. He is a friend of my son, here.” She pushed him in front of her. “This is Stephen.” “Hello,” said the nurse as Stephen acknowledged her with a small nod of the head because he did not want to speak to anyone today apart from his friend. “Well he is in one of the side

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A Dish Best Served Cold rooms. I will take you there. I don’t think anyone is in with him at the moment.” Katie and Stephen followed the nurse down the corridor, and she opened the door for them leading them into the side room. Both gasped at the boy in the bed. “Oh no,” Katie said. “They really did do him over good and proper,” she said watching Stephen take a look at his friend, and then walking over towards the side of the bed. Martin was still semi-conscious due to the pain killers, slipping in and out of realisation, and seeing who was around, before his head would turn and make the most out of the pillow once more. Stephen held his hand. “Martin.” He shook it gently, trying to avoid the plaster covered canula on the back of the hand in case it hurt his friend. “Martin! It’s Stephen.” He could see Martin was drifting in and out of consciousness. The aftermath of her oldest son’s accident began to show on Katie’s face, so she thought she would let Stephen talk to his friend and try and find somewhere to have a coffee. “Stephen, I’m going to the staff canteen. Leave you to see your friend. Do as the nurses tell you, won’t you?” Stephen nodded. “Okay. Don’t worry.” “Do you want anything brought back?” “No, I’m alright thanks.” He watched his mother disappear out of the door. He looked back at Martin, Shook his head. “I was told that they had done a good job on you mate. I just didn’t realise it was this bad,” he said sorrowfully but realising that Martin probably wasn’t taking in a word he was saying because of the medication. “Anyway. I got him for you. Nigel. It will be a warning. He did not know what, or who, hit him. I don’t

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A Dish Best Served Cold think he will be going anywhere soon.” Stephen continued to touch his friend’s hand, tapping it gently with a hope that the boy would know he was there. “I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there to help you. If I had been there, we could have taken them on together.” He paused, unsure if his friend could actually hear anything, and then looked around the room, beginning to wonder if they had found Nigel’s body yet, and put him on the same intensive care unit. Perhaps he could go and visit his nemesis. But the thought passed, as he did not want anyone to know that he knew about Nigel’s demise. “Anyway mate. It is done. Revenge for what he did to you.” Martin’s mother, Irene, tapped on the door so as not to disturb the two boys. “Hello Stephen.” “Hello Mrs Bishop. I just came in with my mum to see Martin,” he said, worried that he might be in trouble for being there. Irene sat on the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “Yes, I know. Your mum told me that you might be in. Thanks for thinking of him. It will mean a lot to him knowing you were here when he wakes up.” “He is going to be alright, isn’t he?” Martin’s mum grimaced, and then shook her head slightly. “We don’t know at the moment. He has got a lot of injuries. Broken bones. The nurses and Doctors say it will be some time before he is back to normal if he comes through this.” She knew that her son would probably go through a wealth of emotions when he finally got home. He would be frightened and angry. “He will probably need you every step of the way. You two have been inseparable in previous years.

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Martin talks about you non-stop, even now you have left the area.” “The Police came to see me. Asked me if I thought of anyone that could have done it.” “Did you tell them anything?” She asked. “They have a witness who saw three boys running away.” “Yes, they said that to me.” Stephen looked back at Martin, still tapping his hand as though to try and wake the boy. “I said it could be Doddy and his two mates who used to beat me up at school. I just hope they get someone for it.” Irene looked around and through the big windows onto the corridor. “Is your mum with you or did you come here on your own?” “Oh no. Mum likes her cup of coffee. She said she would leave me to speak to my mate.” “Well it is nice of you, young man. There are not many your age that have a heart of gold and think of their friends. So is your mum coming back to collect you?” She thought that if not, she could give him a lift home on the way later. Stephen did not look at her but continued to stare at Martin. “Yes, she is coming back.” He looked briefly at Martin’s mum. “Is he going to be able to, like, walk and talk, run around and things?” Irene shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows, love? Who knows anything at this moment in time, I just hope that they get the bastards who did this to my boy because he did not deserve this, not at all?” “Oculum pro oculo.” Stephen whispered softly. “Sorry, love?” “Oh, nothing,” Stephen said calmly, realising that his learning of the Latin language at school was

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A Dish Best Served Cold working, as he had just quoted ‘An eye for an eye’. “They should get put away for this.” “If it is Nigel Dodd and his friends, they will have to prove it first. Martin is not going to be able to say a lot for a few months, even if he remembers anything.” Irene knew Martin was a well-liked young man. He did not have enemies because he tended to be a friend of everyone. That is how she had brought him up. That is how she had brought all her kids up. She might shout a lot, she thought, but she wanted her kids to have friends and have people around them. To be invited to birthday parties. Things like that. Stephen began to think. What if Doddy and his crew had not done Martin over, and he had brutally assaulted Doddy for no other reason than the fact that he deserved a beating whether he had beat his best friend up or not? But he was certain that the fallen one was guilty.

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Chapter 16

Violence. Collective fear stimulates herd instinct and tends to produce ferocity toward those who are not regarded as members of the herd. Gangs all around the world operate to the same morally wrong doings, the need to be liked, the need for security and be part of that herd, the need to achieve something. Does this start at a young age when we are children? Well gangs recruit children with the promises of glory, money, and most of all, the knowledge that there is safety in numbers. Safety in the herd. Law enforcement agencies in every country deal with many types of violence towards other members of the public on a day to day basis; Physical, Sexual, Psychological or Emotional, or a mixture of all four. The gang leader may use psychological violence to recruit and retain a youth gang member, whilst the youth will be violent on his or her behalf. For the youth will have that collective fear, of the leader and the fear of letting him down and therefore become a victim themselves.

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Many children no matter at what age have often referred during young childhood as being in a ‘Gang’. Sometimes it is just a collective of friends who play football or meet up the park, although the collective will protect each other if threatened. The emotions of the various members of the collective will show through their openness and different traits. It is a dawn for things to come. They may continue in the immature childhood exploits or want more from either life or a life of crime. The agencies blame such things on a poor childhood upbringing, where the family may live in poverty through no fault of their own, the parents are unskilled and have to work all hours leaving the child to fend for themselves. Therefore, the child seeks safety and belongingness from other means. But it can be quite the opposite. Rich families can have problems in childhood with their children. Their parents are also too busy making the money they crave, living by their means, and therefore not having the time to give their children that same belongingness. They are usually given what they like when they like instead of that one- thing we all need in life, love. These kids get sent off to boarding school because their parents work abroad, and then join the normal rituals of excessive drug misuse and criminal activities. Life. Life lets them all down. That is the one thing we can share. It does not discriminate.

Katie was watching the evening news and the regional news programme from Westward TV. She had tried to get the children to sit down during the past years and take an interest in current and local affairs, but with little

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A Dish Best Served Cold success. Although she remembered David actually sitting down with her one day in 1968 when the then Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, was on the news. David asked, ‘Here, Mum. Isn’t that the guy off Dixon of Dock Green?’ which had made her laugh. Stephen liked ‘The Sweeney’ and Katie let him stay up one night a week until 10pm in order that he could watch it. In reality he just liked the fast car chases and Reagan and Carter chasing the bad guys. Iain Stirling, the newscaster opened the programme with a headline of,

‘A young boy aged fifteen was found in the waste ground in Honicknowle last night beaten within an inch of his life. The boy, who cannot be named for legal reasons, was a local boy. Police have said he is unable to speak at the present moment due to his injuries and remains in a critical condition. Anyone with any information is asked to contact their local Police station.”

Stephen’s mother was worried. She seemed to recall him getting in late on the previous evening, and even though she thought that was because of his sister catching him with Mark, so she let it go, she now began to suspect something was wrong. Martin had allegedly been assaulted by Nigel Dodd and his two monsters. What if it was one of them who had been assaulted? She shook her head and knew that she was just jumping the boat a bit as she did not actually know who it was. But she could easily find out the next morning when she was on duty.

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The next morning was a Monday morning. Katie was on earlies all week, 7am until 2 pm each day with Wednesday and Sunday as days off. Stephen left for school after her, hoping that Mark was going to meet him as normal after the two of them were caught two days earlier. Rachel had not spoken to him since the third degree received in the questioning from her and his Mum. The bus turned up, and Stephen smiled as he noticed Mark waiting for him in the usual place, who waved to him as the bus came to a halt. “Hi. I did not think you would be here today. I thought after the roasting you must have got, you might have pretended to be sick,” Mark said, laughing as if nothing had happened. “You have got to be kidding! My sister told Mum and after grilling me for ages, they banned me from seeing you, so I walked out.” Stephen gave Mark a friendship hug in the busy vicinity, whispering ‘I missed you’ in his boyfriend’s ear quickly before letting go. As Stephen let him go, Mark noticed some grazing on his hand. “What have you done to your hand, babes?” he asked concerningly. “What?” Stephen replied looking at his knuckles. “Oh, that. I banged it on the wall up the park after the kangaroo court on Saturday. It is ok. I don’t even notice it,” he said, hiding the hand cautiously and trying not to appear guilty.

Just over two hours later, the school bell rang signifying the last lesson of the morning. Stephen was worried. It was PE with Mr Mendham in the Gym. He and Mark got to the changing room as quickly as possible with Stephen trying to avoid being seen in his underwear by

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A Dish Best Served Cold the teacher. He told himself if he got there quickly, Mr Mendham would be late as he had a lesson to come from prior to this one. Both boys got dressed amongst the rest of the class. Stephen smiled as he pulled his shorts up and pulled his top over his head just as Mr Mendham walked into the changing room. “Right, quickly into the gym. Bishop, I need to see you after class, so come and see me in my office at the end of the gym.” “What for, Sir?” Stephen asked nervously. “It’s lunchtime after class. I need to get to the canteen.” “I have something I need to discuss with you. Your mother has telephoned the Headmaster and he wants the counselling teacher, me in other words, to speak to you.” Mr Mendham smiled at him, that creepy type of smile like a Cheshire cat. Stephen maintained eye contact with him and was now scared about what was going to happen. Dare he fake another attack? Stephen could not concentrate all the way through the PE lesson. He could not climb the ropes which he usually did with no problems, he was tripping over the benches instead of stepping on them and his running was not competitive like it usually was in the rugby. He had thoughts going through his mind. He did not want the lesson to end. Perhaps he should go and get changed and go to lunch and disobey Mr Mendham. It would be worth a detention for doing so. He kept looking over towards the teacher, and Mark noticed the worrying glances, but did not say anything, but knew that something was wrong with him. He tried to get eye contact with Stephen, but the boy kept looking away with embarrassment. He had to get

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A Dish Best Served Cold over to speak to him, but could not, probably not until the lesson ended. The bell had not gone. But Mr Mendham ended the lesson about 3 minutes before and told them all to get changed and then go to lunch. “Bishop, don’t forget I want to see you as soon as you are changed.” He watched the boy disappear from the gym and head towards the changing room opposite. Mark watched Mr Mendham. Something was not right. Just the way he looked at Stephen. It was not right. He followed them all to the changing room, and took his time getting changed in order that he and Stephen could talk in private. They did not say anything to each other at first. But then Mark asked, “Are you okay, Stephen? You seem too quiet for me.” There were a few who were left in the changing room and had not rushed towards the canteen, sometimes not even fully dressed or tidy without school ties on or shirts hanging out the trousers. “Yes. I’m fine.” Stephen said. “Why shouldn’t I be?” The bell rang in the corridor. “You had better get your lunch.” “Okay,” Mark replied cautiously. He had no plan to leave without the love of his life and decided to hang about outside Mr Mendham’s office for them to finish. Both of them left the changing room. “It’s alright. I’ll be over in a minute.” He looked into Mark’s eyes with some trepidation, as if silently saying ‘Help me’ but the words were coming from his facial expression. He then walked back into gym, the heavy swing doors crashing back. He turned right towards the sports office at the far end of the gym and

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A Dish Best Served Cold disappeared out of shadow contact through the frosted glass window. Then he tapped on the door. “Come in,” Mr Mendham said, noticing Stephen as he walked in. “Ah, Bishop. Good that you came. Take a seat.” He pointed briefly towards the plastic red coloured chair beside his desk. “Do you know what this is about?” “Well,” Stephen said nervously, “You said my Mum had telephoned the school. So, I can guess.” It was the gay thing. He knew it. Mum had already said that he was not to have contact with Mark. They were in the same class. Mum wanted him moved to another class. Mr Mendham looked at the notes on the pad. “Your mum is concerned about you and Dawe. Said you have been having sexual relations. Is that right?” Stephen nodded, although he was not showing any sign of embarrassment. “She wants you and Dawe separated in School.” “I don’t want that, Sir. I have just managed to get settled in the class I am in. My mum knows I am not particularly good at making friends. Mark is my best friend.” “And more,” Mr Mendham added. “Yes. And more.” Stephen looked at his teacher. “Yes, we have had sex. If I had sex with a girl, we would not be having this conversation. It is because it is another boy, isn’t it?” Mr Mendham looked at him. “I hate to say it, but yes. It is.” He moved seats, to one beside Stephen’s. Then he put his hand around Stephen’s shoulder. “I am here to help you, young man.” He hesitated, maintaining eye contact with the frightened youngster.

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With his other hand, he started brushing Stephen’s hair back, as it was starting to hang over his face. “Now, don’t worry. Everything said in these sessions is kept between me and you. I do not tell anybody. And neither should you.” Suddenly he grabbed Stephen’s crotch. Stephen gasped, and froze, wondering what was going to happen next. He soon found out as Mr Mendham put his hand down the front of his trousers and inside his underpants, and then started masturbating him. “There, there. Does Dawe do that to you?” Stephen nodded. He was going to ejaculate at any moment, he could feel it. He was not as excited as he was when Mark did it to him, but at 14 years of age with your hormones all over the place, a quick wank was sometimes all it was. He did, all over Mr Mendham’s hand, who removed it from Stephen’s trousers and quickly wiped his hand in a sports towel which he picked up from the other side of the desk. “Right. I will not take any action yet. Stay in the class you are in,” the teacher said calmly, acting as though nothing had happened. “We will see how it goes and discuss it in our next session.” “Next session?” He frowned, a mixture of confusion, anger, and disgust at what had just happened. He looked away, his eyes and head going from side to side as though he were just about to burst out in tears. Then he got up and walked out the door, stopping outside the office and looking back, pausing for breath, tears coming into his eyes. Then he started running toward the gym door, pushing it open with force, but he continued running, not noticing Mark who

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A Dish Best Served Cold was waiting for him and leaning against the wall outside the gym. “Stephen! Hang on!” Mark picked up his bag which he had dropped on the floor and started following his boyfriend. But he was gone. Nowhere to be seen. Mark ran down the steps and out of the front staff door, looked from left to right along Regent Street to see if he could picture anyone that looked like Stephen. Yes. Just going around the corner, so he gave chase. Stephen was fast, but Mark was faster. Within no time he reached the same corner and was just about to run again when he saw his boyfriend sat on the doorstep of one of the terraces, head in hands, and knees upwards in order that he could bury his head. Mark went and sat beside him. “Okay, you are going to tell me what is wrong.” Stephen was sobbing. “I can’t,” he said in between cries. “I just can’t.” “Come on,” Mark replied. “You were staring Mendham out in gym, then you had to go back and suddenly you are out here in one hell of a state. Something happened. Tell me!” He placed his arm around Stephen. “NO!” Stephen yelled, realising that that is exactly what Mr Mendham had done to him before he put his hand down Stephen’s trousers. “What’s wrong? I only put my arm around you.” Mark was thinking of the circumstance. The last lesson. The looks between them both. The way Stephen ran out. “Did he do something to you?” Stephen shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

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“He did! What did he do, babes? Did that pervert touch you up?” Mark waited for a reply but did not get one. All he got was the sobs from behind the arms of his other half. “You can tell me. We tell each other everything.” He shook his head again and sobbed even more loudly. “NO! Nothing happened!” “Something happened. Stephen! What did he do?” Mark did not know how to get the truth out of him, so decided to try the more direct, forceful approach. “Tell me, NOW!” It worked. Stephen turned his head to the side, his eyes red from the crying and full of tears. “Did Mendham assault you?” Stephen nodded. “Don’t tell anyone! You cannot tell anyone! They will laugh at me. No one will believe me.” He nervously shook his head. “Please Mark. Please.” His head returned to the hiding position as he started to cry heavily again. Mark was this time allowed to place his arm around Stephen and pull him into his shoulder.

The two Police Officers who had visited Stephen days earlier knocked on the door of Michael Dwyer. It was early evening, so the two thought that someone must be home, and hopefully it will be Michael Dwyer and a responsible adult just in case they have to interview him or take a statement for whatever reason. Michael’s mother answered the door. She was big and brash, cigarette hanging out of her mouth. DC Hollis looked at her and instantly thought that they had met both ends of the evolutionary scale today with this one. Just what was Michael going to be like?

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“What?” the Mother asked. “Hello, DC Hollis,” the young officer said, holding up his warrant card. “This is DS Molineux. We would like to speak with Michael Dwyer if we can?” “What do you want him for this time? You are always on at my lad. He can’t breathe without you lot having a go!” DS Molineux intervened. “We just need to talk to him about an incident last night that he may have witnessed in some way.” “Right,” said Mrs Dwyer. Then she looked in the direction of the upstairs and shouted “Michael! Get down here now!” in a squealing voice that made both Police Officers think, ‘Just How could anyone marry this woman and have kids with her?’ DS Molineux stepped inside the door. “Is it alright if we come in? We just need to ask the lad some questions. He is not in any trouble at the moment. He will just be helping us with our enquiries.” Michael ran down the stairs and immediately saw both policemen, acknowledging them both with an upward nod of the head. “Yeh, what?” he asked in the same brash manner that his mother had shown. “These Policemen want to ask you some questions,” Michaels mother said. “Come on, we will go in the front room. Sit and have that chat.” She led the way for them all and plonked her body down on the sofa, which in return had a gust of air escape from the cushion. They all made themselves comfortable, with the two officers sitting on the edge of each seat, indicating that they were not planning to be there for long, and Michael and his mother slouching back in the sofa and chair, respectively.

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“Michael. We need to ask you a few things. But first I must caution, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later may rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?” Michael nodded as his Mother looked at him. “What the bloody hell have you been up to now?” Then she looked at the Officers. “I thought you said he is not in trouble?” The Sergeant looked at Michael’s mother. “We he isn’t at the moment. It all depends on what he has to say for himself.” “I’ve done Nothing Mum,” Michael snapped back at her. “Nothing at all.” “Okay, Michael,” DS Molineux said firmly. “There have been two incidents recently and I need you to account for your whereabouts on both. Okay?” Michael nodded, and looked at his mother for support, as though she were going to give him an alibi for both, although he could only think of one incident? He was not going to get the blame for anyone else apart from the assault on Martin. “Right, I need you to tell me where you were on Thursday 6th September between the hours of,” The Officer paused and looked in his notebook, then continued, “Half past three in the afternoon and five O’clock the same afternoon?” “Well he doesn’t finish school until quarter to four,” his mum snapped. “Please, Mrs Dwyer,” DS Molineux requested. “Let Michael answer.”

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“School and then home,” Michael said. “That’s what I usually do, isn’t it, Mum?” The Sergeant started to take notes of everything that was said. “And how long does it take you to get home. Let us say you left school at ten to four, allowing the time for you to get out of class.” “Oh, believe me,” Michael’s mother said, surprisingly. “He is the first out of that place!” The boy looked at her and widened his eyes, silently telling her to shut up and be quiet, but this was noticed by both the Sergeant and the PC. “Right, so how long does it take you to walk home?” “Me and Colin walk home together,” Michael said. “Would that be Colin Bettison?” “Yes, we walk home together every day as he lives just two blocks over. I do not know how long it takes us as some days it takes longer than others. We might stop in the park or speak to mates.” “Right,” DS Molineux said, not wanting to give away the fact that he knew the boy was as guilty as Jack the Ripper. “So, did you do anything on that Thursday when you got home?” “What like?” Michael asked, slightly confused by the question. “Well like watch anything on the television? If you could tell me that you watched something and what happened, it would give you an alibi. I could leave you alone then.” He could see the cogs in Michael’s brain working overtime as the boy tried to remember what was on the television at that time.

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“I think I went straight up to my room,” he said as he realised that he would only drop himself further and further into the quagmire by mentioning the TV story. “It’s alright. We have to see Colin Bettison as yet. We will see if he can remember anything.” He pretended this time to write something in his notebook. Scare tactics, he thought, that was the way forward, although with children brought up by some parents, it did not always work. He remembered being told by his Sergeant many years ago, that sometimes the silent treatment is best. “Okay. Now the second incident. You are friends with Nigel Dodd?” Michael nodded his head again. “We go to the same school. Hang out together now and again.” “Were you aware that Nigel was beaten to within an inch of his life on Saturday evening?” Michael shook his head, and suddenly fear went through his mind and he felt cold. “Is he alright?” “Did you ‘hang out’ on Saturday evening?” He nodded. “Yes, I went out after tea, called for Colin and then we met him down the tip.” “What time was that?” DS Molineux asked sternly, thinking that he was now getting to where he wanted to be with the lad. “It would have been after five,” Mrs Dwyer interrupted. “Tea is always at five. You went out straight after.” “Yes, that’s right,” Michael agreed. “So, after meeting Colin, did you go straight to meet Nigel?” Somehow, he could not see Michael carrying out on assault on both boys, they were from different ends of the spectrum. But something was not

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A Dish Best Served Cold right about the Martin situation because he was looking for excuses and could not find any to prove his innocence. In this case, he admitted to being with Nigel, so did not need to look for an excuse. Michael paused, his eyes looking for an answer. Did they go straight there? “Yes. No. Well we did, but we went via the shops at Brake Farm.” “Therefore, at the latest you would have seen him about six shall we say?” Michael nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere, with his friend. “Is Doddy alright?” “We don’t know at the moment. It could go either way.” The Sergeant said, executing his scare tactics once more, even though they could be accurate at this point. “What time did you return home?” “Look Sergeant, we left him. He was quite alive and standing when we left him and said goodbye. You ask Colin,” Michael demanded, now frightened that he was going to get charged for two assaults. “Oh, we will,” DS Molineux snapped, looking at the guilty expression on the boy’s face. He had to decide something. Should he arrest Michael, and therefore he would not need a search warrant to look for any evidence. Did he have enough to arrest him? “Martin was kicked and punched, whereas Nigel was hit with some kind of weapon. Possibly the same weapon was used on both boys. Do you know anything about any weapon, Michael?” He looked directly at the boy and noticed his eye movements. He did, the Sergeant could tell in his eyes, and his sudden nervousness. “I want you two to leave now,” Michael’s mum suddenly interrupted. “You are upsetting my boy.”

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DS Molineux and DC Hollis stood up, and both put away their notebooks in tandem. The Sergeant could see that the mother thought that they were just going to leave as requested, but he nodded silently to the PC. “Michael Dwyer, I am arresting you for grievous bodily harm on Martin Bishop and attempted murder of Nigel Dodd. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later may rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?” “Attempted Murder?” Michael screamed, surprised at what he was being arrested for. “I never touched him! He is my friend!” Mrs Dwyer stood up and tried to stop the Officers taking him. “Hold on, hold, on. No, you don’t!” She exclaimed pulling her son back and generally getting in the way of the arrest. “Mrs Dwyer. You are obstructing an officer in the course of his duty,” DC Hollis shouted. “Sit down or you will be arrested as well!” “Mum! Help!”

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Chapter 17

Friendships can come and friendships can go just as fast. It might be that the two friends move apart from each other or go to different schools. It is all about belief. If a person believes in you and what you do, the friendship will go on until they stop believing. Do friends love each other? In some cases, although it is more of a brotherhood rather than a sexual love. Once sexual involvement becomes apparent in a friendship there is a higher expectation and the expectation of friendship is taken for granted and the belief between the two friends decreases. In early years, friendships have been known to be split up amongst children and teenagers by the parents, who have a stronger belief in their children and exercise their feelings and emotions resulting in strong emotions echoing from their child. Where the belief is still great between the two friends, the stronger the emotion at having to say farewell. Mixed emotions that are counter-productive to each other appear, for their

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A Dish Best Served Cold child no longer feels the acceptance, affection, confidence, or courage, but instead anger, anxiety, humiliation, and loneliness. In addition, the parent who ends the friendship can feel the resentment from the child. The world revolves around what is norm. Women can have women friends and men friends until that relationship becomes sexual. The same goes for men, who can have friendships with either sex right throughout their life, until they get a partner of the opposite sex, Then it becomes norm not to have a friend of the other sex, or if you are gay, the same sex. So ‘Norms’ can change in a person’s mind. So, if a person has to change their way of thinking because of what is ‘Norm’, how do they respond? Do they go with the flow, rebel, or do what the partner says to save any grief or despair? Children can be easily influenced into what is ‘norm’. Some need those role models which they do not get at home, the need to be liked by someone. Now this can be through being in a group of like-minded kids, those who like to just generally go outside, not intentionally cause any troubles, or it could be something which leads to illegal activity. They are looking for a leader to take control of their lives, show them the way forwards, even if it is wrong. It makes them something that they would otherwise not be. It makes the leader looked up to by his or her subordinates. In charge. That person’s self-esteem comes to the forefront sometimes at an incredibly young age. In this case, they have to watch their backs. There is always a friend that thinks they can do the job better.

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The lights in the interview room were slightly dimmer than normal. Colin Bettison and his mother sat across the table from a quiet DC Hollis waiting for DS Molineux to return from the CID Office. They had searched both the Bettison’s and the Dwyer’s houses for any evidence that might still be available like blood spattered clothes or a weapon of some kind. Molineux pressed the ‘Record’ button on the tape machine and then sat down in the vacant chair beside his colleague. “Interview with Colin Bettison in front of DS Molineux and DC Hollis. Colin’s appropriate adult, his mother, is also present. Can you say your name for the tape please?” “Gemma Bettison,” replied his mother. “Time is 1940 hours on Tuesday 11th September 1979,” DC Hollis added, wondering if his mentor and senior officer had forgotten that part. He had, as he made a gesture towards DC Hollis with his eyes and lightly shook his head. DC Hollis smiled, wanting to make a comment about ‘Old Age’ as he would have if they were not in an interview. Office banter was rife, and DC Hollis really got on well with the older officer, listening and learning, which was exactly what the Sergeant expected of him. The Sergeant looked at the culprit seriously. “Right Colin. We arrested you after talking to your friend Michael Dwyer who is being interviewed as we speak in a different room. You have been arrested on suspicion of the grievous bodily harm on Martin Bishop and attempted murder of Nigel Dodd. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you

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A Dish Best Served Cold later may rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?” “Yes, I understand.” “Right. For the tape, can you tell me where you were on Thursday 6th September between the hours of 3.30pm and 5pm the same afternoon, and again between the hours of 7pm and 10pm on Saturday 8th September? We have spoken to your friend and just need to clarify your movements.” The Sergeant looked at the facial expressions in the boy to see if he could pick up on anything. His detainee had gone quiet, but was staring directly at the Sergeant, who knew that when this kind of reverse psychology happened, if was usually to try and workout what the police already knew. DS Molineux stared right back at him so as not to give anything away. “What has Michael said?” He asked cockily. “Whatever he says, I agree with.” The Sergeant looked at DC Hollis for his intervention in order that Colin would not seem him as a silent weakness. “Well we would like to hear it from you, Colin. If it is all cleared up, then, we can let you go home.” “I ain’t saying nuffin,” Colin snapped. “I didn’t do those assaults. I wasn’t there.” “Well we know that you were with Nigel Dodd on the Saturday evening.” DC Hollis continued. “So, in a way, you were there.” “Yeh, I was with Doddy, but we left as Mike had to be home.” “And how was he when you left him?” DC Hollis asked, trying to add some tension into the interview by

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A Dish Best Served Cold flicking his pen in his left hand, and then every so often stopping to see if it riled the boy. “Fine. He was walking up the ramp towards his house.” DS Molineux went silent for a while, as did DC Hollis. “You see,” the Sergeant said. “I think that you and Michael Dwyer had some problem with Nigel and thought you would teach him a lesson. What didn’t he do on that Saturday night, Colin? What made you two beat him to a pulp? Did he offer you money to do Martin Bishop over, and then not come up trumps with the cash?” “No! We did not touch Doddy. He’s our mate!” “But you didn’t deny assaulting Martin Bishop?” DC Hollis said, raising his voice with a more serious tone. “No, he didn’t,” Sergeant Molyneux added. “Strange that. Isn’t it, DC Hollis?” He looked at the boy’s face again and noticed he was getting stressed and nervous. The silent game once again, as he stretched his legs out whilst not taking his stare away from the boy. “So, let us go back to the Thursday. You left school. Then what?” “Went home.” “What right away?” DC Hollis asked commandingly. “How long did it take you to get home? What route did you take?” “The normal way. I do not know. I was following Mike!” “You see,” DS Molineux said pedantically, “We have a witness who saw three boys running away from the scene of a crime. The attack on Martin Bishop.” Silence again as he watched the worry on the boy’s

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A Dish Best Served Cold face. “So, what say we put you and Michael Dwyer in a line up, bring in that witness and see if she can identify you? Would she pick you out, Colin?” There was no reply. “DC Hollis, can you get that photo out of the file?” “Photo?” Colin asked nervously. DC Hollis pulled the photo out of the file. “Introducing photographic evidence DWY001.” He turned the photo around for the boy to see. “Do you know what this is?” “I think he does,” DS Molineux added. “I mean it was found in the search and is currently at the forensic laboratory getting the fingerprints and blood matches taken from it.” “In that case, Sergeant,” DC Hollis said, pretending to be talking between them only, “We will know if it was the weapon used in both attacks, and by who?” “Exactly!” DS Molineux snapped pushing his body forward. “So, Colin, why don’t you just cut all the bullshit now, tell us about this baseball bat and tell us what happened?” Colin’s mum reached over and grabbed her son’s hand in a show of support. “Come on Colin. If it was not you, just tell the truth. If it was, you need to tell the officers anyway.” “Listen to your Mum Colin!” DC Hollis said, trying to get the boy to own up to something at least. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” DS Molineux shouted back. The CID Officer walked over to the Sergeant. “Detective Constable Pollard enters the room.” “Could I have a word, Serge? Urgently?”

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DS Molineux knew that an interruption could only mean one thing; further information that can affect the case. As he got up, he reached over and turned the tape machine off after saying, “Interview interrupted at 8.05pm.” Then he and Hollis stepped outside the room, closing the door behind them for privacy. “I hope this is good,” he said to Pollard, wondering what was so important to interrupt an interview. “Nigel Dodd has died. I thought you would want to know.” “Ah! Right. Thank you, DC Pollard. That is especially important. This changes everything.” He put his hands on his waist and started pacing whilst looking at the floor. Then he stopped. DC Hollis looked at his senior officer for guidance. “This makes it murder then Serge?” “Yes, it does. We will need to put both boys back in their detention rooms. Can you see to that?” DC Hollis nodded. “Yes, Serge. Where shall I meet you?” Molineux looked at his watch. “Thirty minutes in the custody office. We will need to persuade the Custody Sergeant to hold on to the two boys on extension. Should be no problems now they are murder suspects. Meanwhile, can you also chase up the results, no matter how small, from forensics?” “Yes, Serge. No problem.” “I think both boys will now need a Solicitor, not just their parent,” he said, turning and walking down the corridor, leaving Hollis outside the interview rooms, who looked at his own wristwatch again, mainly because in all the action, he had forgotten the time. He walked back into the interview room. “Hello. I’m afraid

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A Dish Best Served Cold new evidence has come to light and we need to put Colin back in the cells for a while.” “This is ridiculous,” Colin’s mother snapped. “How long for?” “I don’t know at this moment in time. Also, you said that you did not need a Solicitor. Can I suggest that you consider it? Unfortunately, one of the victims has died, so we are looking at murder.” He opened the door for Colin and his Mother. “This way please.” “Murder?” Colin said, surprised by the Officer’s statement. “I didn’t do anything! We found the baseball bat on the pink path. “You had better save it Colin for when we reconvene with the interview.” Hollis looked at the Constable guarding the interview rooms. “PC Power, could you see that Colin is returned to custody for me please?” The Officer nodded and took hold of Colin’s arm, leading him back to the custody suite. Michael Dwyer had already been returned to a different cell, and both parents were escorted to the waiting area. DC Hollis knew it was going to be a long night all of a sudden.

Stephen was sat on his bed. Since the latest assault by his teacher, he had remained quiet and reserved, and he hoped that Mark would do the same. He was used to Mark touching him, but no one else. Mr Mendham had learned that he and Mark were romantically involved and taken advantage of him. All sorts of things could happen. What if the secret got out to the rest of the school? He knew several in his class that hated gays, he had seen their actions on other pupils who

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A Dish Best Served Cold were deemed to be ‘Puffs’ by them. He also did not want to go through the bullying like he did at his previous school, although this time it would be for a different reason. Katie had noticed a sudden change in her boy but put it down to the fact that he was not allowed to see Mark and that he was probably going through those awful teen years. But for the past few days he had not even wanted to sit downstairs and watch the television. But she did not push him to come down. He would join her if he wanted to. A knock on the door interrupted her thought process, and she went to answer it. There was a young girl stood under the canopy sheltering from the rain. “Hello. Is Stephen in?” “Oh hello,” Katie replied. “I’m his mum! He is in. Who shall I say it is?” “Tara.” Katie was ecstatic. It was a girl. Perhaps Stephen’s early fantasies were over. Here was a girl calling for him. She looked up the stairs and then called, “Stephen! Stephen! There is a young lady here for you. Tara.” The boy jumped off his bed and thought it was best for him to greet Tara as soon as possible in order that the embarrassment that his mother would cause could be kept to a minimum. He ran out onto the landing and poked his head over the bannister rail. “Can she come up, Mum? We don’t want to watch your Des O’Connor show thanks.” Katie let her in and closed the door. “Yes alright,” she said politely. “There we go, he’s upstairs.

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“Thank you,” Tara acknowledged before running up the stairs. Katie watched the both of them disappear into his room and heard the door slam. Then she smiled. She could not wait to tell Rachel that Stephen had a girlfriend. She hoped that he had put Mark from the back of his mind now she had separated the pair and this girl Tara was on the scene. Stephen jumped back on his bed, and Tara sat on the end. “You okay? I haven’t seen you around the past few days,” Tara said to him, touching his foot and wiggling his toes for which he giggled as his feet were overly sensitive and ticklish. “Well. It’s been a bit of a bad week,” he replied to her. “You can tell me,” she said. “I know we haven’t been friends long, but I’m a good friend.” Stephen looked at her with a sad face. “Mum has found out that I am gay and has banned me from seeing Mark. My Sister told her.” “Well look on the bright side,” Tara said, moving her position so she was beside him on the bed, her back resting on the headboard just like his. “There is a bright side?” “Always. She knows now. The shock is out. She will get used to it.” Tara rubbed his foot that she had been previously tickling with the soul of her foot. “You don’t know my Mum. She is probably down there with a smile right across her face as her pleasure of seeing you turn up and come up to my room overjoys her.” “Is that a bad thing?”

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“She has probably taken the phone into the sitting room and telephoned my sister Rachel to tell her, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit!” He smiled at the thought and wondered just how close to the truth his thoughts were, thinking of just running down to his Mum to see for himself. “Parent’s eh?” “We all have them! She is not that bad really. Could be worse.” He turned his head and looked back at Tara, smiling. She cuddled into his arm, and he put his other arm around her shoulders. Tara felt safe with him. He was not going to try anything on with her like the boys at her School try every day with her and other girls. The thing was, when they picked on Tara, they got what they deserved. She was brash and said what she thought and there were usually no holds barred. Being the only child in her family, she had to stick up for herself. Her mother and father had recently set up a pasty company and were working long hours to make it work, so at the moment, Tara was feeling quite lonely, so she was glad to have a friend in Stephen. “Your bedroom is so cool. You are like a little kid really,” Tara said, looking around the room. “Your mum even lets you have posters.” She looked at the poster. “Who are they?” “Dollar,” he replied, looking at her. “Thereza Bazar and David Van Day. You must have heard their stuff!” Tara shook her head. “Shooting star? I wanna hold your hand?” “Sorry babes. I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know their music,” She said trying to wind him up in the process.

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“Prepare to be amazed,” Stephen said, jumping off the bed and moving over to his record player. He took the sleeve off a single record and placed it on the turntable. “I have all four of their singles and their album.” “You are so gay,” Tara said, laughing. Stephen looked at her, knowing that she was joking with him. “I know. I love that David Van Day!” The first song started. “This is shooting stars. It is brilliant. I know the dance moves as well.” He started to move like the pop stars. Tara started laughing. “Oh no! What are you like?” Stephen joined her in the laughing, and then stopped suddenly, looked at her with an amazed face. “What?” he said in a jokingly funny voice before he continued with the dance. “I could easily be Dollar! Well, David Van Day.” The first song started to fade out. “Do you know them, then?” “No. Play another one,” Tara said, just wanting to see her friend dance once more. She was hoping that he knew the dance moves to the next song anyway. ‘I wanna hold your hand’ started. Her wish came true as Stephen started doing the dance moves to the song and Tara started giggling.

Downstairs, little did Stephen know, but his prediction was right. Katie had taken the phone to the living room and closed the door. She had as soon as Tara and Stephen had closed his bedroom door and excelled in telling his sister that he had a girl in his room, that they were laughing and playing music. Rachel was less optimistic and said that plenty of boys just had girls who were just-good friends, and with Stephen thinking he

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A Dish Best Served Cold was gay, he was probably in touch with his feminine side by having her over. But Katie was not having any of it. In her eyes he had a girlfriend at last. “Listen Rachel,” she said, holding the telephone receiver out into the hallway to hear the laughter coming from upstairs. “Time will tell, Mum. Have you taken him to the Doctors yet?” “No not yet. I was going to make an appointment, but with everything that has been going on, I might wait. If he is seeing Tara.” She stopped and listened to the sounds from his bedroom herself. “Yes, see how it goes.” Katie stopped as the local news came up on the television screen, the presenter announcing the news of the day.

‘A boy from Honicknowle died today in hospital. He is named as Nigel Dodd and was aged fourteen.’ He was attacked on Saturday evening and received multiple serious injuries from the frantic attack which happened in a side lane leading to the woodland in Harewood Crescent. Police are currently questioning two suspects about the attack but ask that anyone with information contact them at West Park Police Station.

“Mum? Mum? Are you still there?” Rachel was concerned that she was not talking, and as she always thought the worst of any situation, she wondered if her Mum had fallen or something. “It’s ok, love. I was just watching the news. Nigel Dodd has died in hospital.” “Oh God. How tragic. I mean he was a little bastard, but I wouldn’t wish that on him.”

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Katie hesitated. She had already had suspicions that Stephen had something to do with it due to his disappearance on Saturday night. Just where did he go? She realised that Rachel was still on the line. “Yes, a kid like that probably had so many enemies at such a young age. Rachel I better go. I’m sure that he would like to know the news.” “Okay Mum,” Rachel replied. “Catch you later.” The conversation was replaced with the dialling tone, so Katie replaced the receiver and returned the phone to the hallway. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, her head filling with a million thoughts. He had put his dirty clothes in the laundry. She had not seen any blood or anything on them. Surely if it were that much of a frantic attack like the news had said, Stephen would have some type of blood on his clothes? But then, they had got two suspects already. She shook off her thoughts and ascended the stairs, hearing the laughter and music coming from his room. This was the first time she had heard that from him in a long time. Stopping halfway up, she turned and went back down. No, she would not tell him yet. Let him be happy, she thought.

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Chapter 18

Suspicions generate emotions in both the person that suspects and the person that is the target of the suspicion. Quite often crimes that are not thought out properly, or where the criminal leaves some type of evidence such as blood, fingerprints or a weapon arouse the suspicion, especially by the law enforcement agencies. They can use a series of tactics to catch their man/woman. The eyes can reveal an offer of a window into the soul. According to experts, people interpret a person's emotions by analysing the expression in their eyes. There is also body language. Take a child when they bite their nails, most of the time they are nervous. Some known criminals show no emotions and therefore the Police find it hard to read them if or when they are interviewed. In certain Countries they use a heart rate monitor when interviewing suspects, and these reveal guilt as the heart rate increases when they are questioned, and the emotion of guilt takes over. However, certain criminals have been known to beat

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A Dish Best Served Cold the heart rate monitor, showing no emotion or remorse, and leaving the heart stay the same throughout the questioning. These are often murderers with psychopathic tendencies. Can a child be a psychopath? They prefer to describe children as having callous and unemotional traits, with a cluster of characteristics and behaviours, including a lack of empathy, remorse, or guilt; shallow emotions; aggression and even cruelty; and a seeming indifference to punishment. Moreover, what causes a child to have psychopathic tendencies? Many will say that it stems from the parents. Or lack of parenting. Lack of love and guidance as a child. There is no cure for psychopathy. Unless you are a medical expert or you suspect your child to have psychopathic tendencies at a young age, you will not realise that he or she in infected with this mental illness. That he or she will grow past the age of caring about anything or anyone and at the end of the day will perhaps land up hurting or killing someone without feeling remorse or guilt and then lying about it. Sometimes a person can have suspicions about one’s guilt that they know is correct, but just cannot prove it, or the evidence is violated, or planted by someone with more intelligence than what might be the victim of an injustice. Their fate relies on the balance of probability. The probability that they did or did not have the psychopathic tendency to kill.

“Stephen! Can you come down here, please? I need to talk to you.” As usual he was in his bedroom. If he was not there, he was usually up at Tara’s house or in the

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A Dish Best Served Cold park outside her house. Katie had finally plucked up enough courage to ask him outright about where he was on that fateful Saturday night. She knew that something was not right. But first she had to see his reaction to telling him that Nigel Dodd had died. The boy rushed down the stairs closely followed by Tara. “I’ll just see Tara out mum. It is her home time. I’m going to walk her up because it’s dark outside.” The two of them disappeared out the door. Katie sat with a smile as she realised that he was being good around his girlfriend by walking her home, even though she literally lived the next row of houses up. She would give them a bit of time as they probably wanted to say goodbye properly. With a kiss, she thought. Little did she know that whilst upstairs the two had agreed to look out for each other in order that Stephen could still see Mark. Tara would pretend to go out with him and go for walks or bus rides in order he could meet his boyfriend with little suspicion from his family. The two friends approached Tara’s house. “Hey babes. Thanks for tonight. You are a good friend.” “You too. Just be careful.” She pecked him on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.” Stephen watched her go in and close the door and then walked back home as slowly as he could. He knew what these ‘speak to you’ sessions were normally about, and at first thought it was going to be the talk about the birds and the bees, which, if he didn’t know by now, he never would. “I’m back,” he said as he walked in the door and headed for the living room. “I’ve made you a coffee, love. Just how you like it. Black, no sugar.” She watched as her boy jumped at

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A Dish Best Served Cold the chance to have a mug of coffee. “That Tara seems like a nice girl.” “Yes, she is,” Stephen said, slurping his coffee along the way. He knew that his mum hated people slurping, so he did it on purpose just to see the reaction on her face. “So, is there anything going on that I should know about?” She asked innocently, expecting a surprising response. “What?” he replied still slurping. “Going on? Oh. Going on! No. We are simply good friends.” Stephen revelled in not giving his mother the information that she was trying to extract from him for her own gratification. Katie withheld her next thoughts just in case they upset him. But she was thinking of commending him for not choosing to be around boys, in particular, Mark. “Well, I’m being serious now, love. I don’t want you to get upset.” She looked at him, ready to gauge his reaction. “The boy beaten up the other day that has been mentioned on the news was Nigel Dodd.” Stephen looked up from drinking his coffee. “Who did he upset this time?” “That’s not all, love.” Katie paused not knowing how to say the next statement in a good way for him to hear, especially as she had told him twice before with the deaths of his brother and his father. But this would be different, she thought. He used to call Nigel his nemesis. “Nigel died in hospital today.” She watched his reaction as he lifted his mouth from the mug and starred forward, silent for a while just as anybody who was truly upset about such news would be. He took a gulp of his coffee.

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“I don’t know what to say. He hated me, and I hated him. I could not care less really. Can I go back upstairs now?” “No, no,” his mother replied instantly with some urgency to stop him from moving. “The Police will be investigating this quite thoroughly. Stephen. You disappeared last Saturday. The night it happened and during the time it happened.” She moved her hand over and took his to reassure him that it was alright to tell her anything. “Did you have anything to do with this?” There was no emotion, no guilt showing in his eyes or on his face. He was not even showing that he was overjoyed even though inside he wanted to party. “I really can’t believe you asked me that, Mum. Thanks for your confidence in me.” “I had to ask. You did not tell me where you were going. You just stormed out and you were gone hours.” Katie appeared to be upset with herself for not trusting him. But she still did not trust him. She had seen this type of reaction before from him. “So, where were you?” He turned his head, his face now showing some anger and resentment. “Think, mother dearest. I have just been with her tonight. Tara. On Saturday night she was there calming me down because of all the decisions that you are making about my life that are either wrong or unjustified. Why didn’t you just come right out and ask if I had killed Nigel Dodd? I wish I had. I would hug the person that did. But I am not his only enemy. Saturday night I was at Tara’s. Ask her if you like! Now I’m going to my room!” He got up and walked out away from his mother, pretending to be angry, but was in fact, smiling psychotically. If his plan went right,

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Nigel’s two accomplices would take the brunt of what was to come for his murder. He did not care. They deserved it as well. Katie waited for him to slam his bedroom door, which was his usual thing when he was angry or upset by something. She did not have to wait long. She left the television on, and quietly opened the front door, closing it by putting her yale key in the lock and turning it so the door did not bang. She did not believe her own son. She had to check with Tara. She quickly walked up the steps and over towards her house, banging on the door nervously. Tara’s father answered. “Hello,” he said nicely. “Can I help you?” Tara peered over his shoulder from behind. “It’s ok Dad. That is Stephen’s mum from the next block down,” she said, hoping that he would leave her to it. “Yes, Katie,” she said, holding her hand out to shake, which was responded to by Tara’s father. “Could I just ask you something?” “Sure.” “Was Stephen here on Saturday evening?” Katie asked inquisitively wanting to know the truth to her concerns and suspicions. “It’s just he was missing on Saturday evening and said he was here with you, Tara.” Tara’s father looked back at his daughter. “I wouldn’t know as we were out on Saturday at a meal. Tara?” The girl stepped forward. “It’s okay Dad. I’ll handle this.” Then she watched her Father disappear back into the living room. “Unwanted Dad again,” he said jokingly.

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“Shut up, dad!” Tara shouted down the hallway before looking back at Katie. “Yes, he was here with me on Saturday. We were listening to music most of the night. He was upset. Said that his Sister had outed him to you.” Tara knew that she was covering for the boy. What she was saying they had already talked about earlier whilst in Stephen’s bedroom. “What time did he leave your house,” Katie asked, trying to get more clarification and check that the girl was not just lying for him. She had her suspicions about Stephen, but was his friend willing to lie for him? She seemed like a nice girl from a nice family, so it was extremely hard to believe that she would, but Stephen could be very manipulating of friends at times. “I don’t know,” Tara replied. “It was before my Mum and Dad got home.” She turned to shout down the hallway. “Dad? What time did you get home on Saturday?” “About quarter past ten,” her father shouted back. “Why?” “Nothing,” Tara replied. “Fathers are a pain,” she said to Katie. “I guess it was about half an hour before my parents come home. Roughly. Why do you ask? Is he in trouble?” “No, no. Please do not tell him that I asked, will you? He will only get upset with me,” Katie pleaded with the girl. “Hey, no problem. I know what he is like,” the girl replied, knowing that she would tell Stephen because the two of them kept no secrets between them. At this moment, Tara probably knew more about Stephen than his own mother did.

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Katie’s mind was more settled. Tara’s alibi coincided with the time he returned home on Saturday evening. Perhaps he was innocent, and her devious suspicions were wrong about her son. “Okay thanks Tara. See you next time you come down. You are welcome anytime.” She left and went home, returning silently and returning to watch the TV. Stephen had not even realised she had gone, but his Mother put that down to the loud music coming from his bedroom.

DC Hollis and DS Molineux met to discuss the evidence that they had in the murder of Nigel Dodd. The preliminary results had returned from forensics, and the Sergeant had passed them to the junior officer to look over. Neither of them could believe what they were reading. “Looks like the both of them were in on it,” DC Hollis said, reading the results and double checking that what he was seeing was correct. “Both of their fingerprints found on the baseball bat. It doesn’t look good at all.” DS Molineux bit his lip whilst thinking of their next move, standing with his hands on his hips pushing back his jacket to either side. “Yes, and elements of one victims blood. Looks like they tried to wash it off but left diminutive specks just on the end. I hate this. Young boys who have ruined their lives before they have even started. We will let them know that the charge is now murder and question them about the bat. We need to establish if one or both of the boys are guilty.” Michael Dwyer and Colin Bettison were being interviewed in separate rooms being kept in different

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A Dish Best Served Cold cells and both were extremely worried that they had been set up over Nigel Dodd. Michael Dwyer, the more devious of the two, was ready to dish the dirt on his accomplice Colin if need be. Both boys had requested Solicitors present that had previously been recommended by the two Police Officers. DS Molineux looked at his junior. “We will carry on with Bettison first. See if we can break him. Then we will get onto Dwyer and see what he has to say about the new evidence.” They both walked into the room and looked at Colin Bettison, his mother and what they took to be his solicitor sat at the other side of the table. The two sat down, DC Hollis scrapping his chair along the floor much to the disgust of his Sergeant. “Interview recommenced at 2130 hours. DC Hollis and DS Molineux present with Colin Bettison, His Mother Gemma Bettison, and their Solicitor. Please state your name for the tape,” he said looking at the newcomer. “David Boyle from Masters, Hart and Davis Solicitors.” “Right, Colin. Your Solicitor has been given the disclosure including the update. We have evidence now in both attacks. Unfortunately, Nigel Dodd died in the last hour, and therefore I am now arresting you for the murder of Nigel Dodd. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later may rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?” Colin looked worried. This was just getting worse. Murder? He had seen that on the TV. People go to jail for an awfully long time. “Yes,” he replied.

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“Now,” DS Molineux said, pushing a photo of the baseball bat in front of him once more. “We now know that this is the weapon that was used to kill Nigel Dodd and may have been used in the GBH attack on Martin Bishop.” “What?” panicked Colin looking at his Mum. “No! We found it. Michael picked it up at the top of the pink path. Honestly!” “Did you handle it at any time, Colin?” Colin looked at the photo. “Yes, we were both playing with it on the way home.” “So, you are saying that you found the weapon in question after both events had happened?” “Yes, on the pink path!” He said nervously, hoping the officer would believe him. “That would explain both your fingerprints being on the weapon, but then why were specks of Nigel Dodd’s blood found on the baseball bat?” He waited with abated breath for an answer, deciding to use the technique of silence for a few moments. He watched as the boy’s face filled with horror, his eyes surveying the floor and his head softly shaking a ‘No’. But he did not say a word. Cue another question DS Molineux thought. “You are up to your neck in this Colin. You best friend is NOT silence!” “I don’t know! I don’t know how their blood got there!” Colin shouted back nervously. “We didn’t touch Nigel Dodd!” “But you did assault Martin Bishop? He asked, getting another silence from Colin. “Did you assault Martin Bishop?” DS Molineux asked more forcefully. “I’m getting tired of this Colin.” He turned to look at his partner. “What do you think DC Hollis?”

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“Well if it was me, I would charge both boys with the murder and the GBH right now,” he replied, tapping each end of his pen on the desk in rotation which was beginning to annoy the Sergeant, who gave him an uneasy look. “Right Colin. Last chance saloon. Then I am going to hand you over to DC Hollis to deal with you. Did you assault Martin Bishop?” DS Molineux knew he was at breaking point, and that any moment now he would dish the dirt. Colin Bettison looked at his Mum, who nodded towards him to tell the truth. “Yes, we did.” “Both of you?” “Yes, it was both of us. Nigel waited for us at the end of the path.” “And you used the weapon?” DC Hollis asked whilst making notes in his book. “No! We did not use any weapon. We were on our way back from school. Doddy told us to teach him a lesson, so we gave him a good kicking and punched him senseless.” “Well you certainly did that,” DS Molineux chipped in. “The boy will be lucky if he ever walks again.” DC Hollis thought it would be a good time to try and push for the next confession. “Now what about Nigel Dodd? What was it? Did he not pay you enough for the assault on Martin Bishop so you thought you would teach him a lesson?” “We did not touch Nigel Dodd!” the boy responded worried that he was going down for murder when he was innocent. He was hoping that the two officers would see the innocence in his face. “We left

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A Dish Best Served Cold him quite alive, then walked home. On the way we found the bat.” “Okay Colin,” DS Molineux said, picking up his folders and photographs. “We are now going to speak to Michael Dwyer and get his take on things. Meanwhile we will return you to your cell.” DC Hollis looked at his watch and said, “Interview terminated at 2155 hours.” The two officers got up and walked out of the interview room, speaking to the PC outside the door and then walking into the other room directly opposite. They sat down at the table. “Interview commenced at 2200 hrs. DS Molineux and DC Hollis present, and also,” he looked at Michael Dwyer’s mother for a response. “Could you say your name for the tape?” “Janine Dwyer,” she said. “Also, in attendance, Michael Dwyer’s solicitor.” DS Molineux said, seeing a familiar face sat opposite him, as this solicitor was a regular duty solicitor at the station. “Charles Wilson from Goldberg’s Solicitors,” he said. “Right Michael. Your Solicitor has probably informed you about the death of Nigel Dodd tonight, and therefore I am now arresting you for the murder of Nigel Dodd. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later may rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?” Michael Dwyer nodded, tears in his eyes. “We never did any of the things you say!” he said.

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“That is strange,” DC Hollis said to him. “Your mate gave us a confession on the assault of Martin Bishop. What do you have to say about that?” “Yeh? Well it was him, not me!” DS Molineux looked at his notes, and then pushed a photo over towards him. “Do you remember this photo? Well the forensics picked up both yours and Colin Bettison’s fingerprints, along with traces of blood for one of the victims. How do you explain that?” “I told you, it was him, Colin. Not me. He probably did Doddy in. Now I’m not saying anything more.” DC Hollis knew that this was going to be more difficult, so looked in the eyes of his senior Officer, who nodded. “In that case, Michael, you leave me no choice. Michael Dwyer I’m charging you with the Grievous Bodily Harm of Martin Bishop and the Murder of Nigel Dodd!” “What?” Michael screamed. “You can’t do that!” He looked at his Solicitor. “They can’t do that!” “Interview terminated at 2205.” DC Hollis enjoyed that bit. He was already thinking that the boy was a cocky little shit. Both boys charged and in custody. What a result, he thought.

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Chapter 19

Chances in life are rarely given to youngsters who come from a poor background, and those from a poor background have parents who are usually the working class, badly educated adults. Maybe their parents love a drink or two. Society is to blame for crime. In the 70’s there were Sunday Schools, Youth Clubs, Scout groups, Girl Guides, Boys Brigade, and all these all had a purpose. To most children it was cool to belong to one or more of these groups. Does life go around in a cycle? The popularity of such functional entertainment for the younger generation fizzles out and then returns years later and so on. Some children react to their sense of belonging. They are not getting the attention from their parents or family at home, and so join what could be a deteriorating organisation where they learn no more than they would at home, but at least someone talks to them in a social environment. The boy who lives in a Council house makes friends with the boy whose parents own their house. They could be from two totally

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A Dish Best Served Cold different environments. One could suffer the arguments, being told no to every childhood request for new trainers or even some sweets or ice cream and generally live with a total dysfunctional family where the parents are together just for the sake of the kids. The other child has parents who control their lives, have a bit of money, good jobs, networking contacts and take an interest in their children at every point in their lives. Life makes a person who he or she is today. Being in the right place at the right time, or knowing the right people accounts for the minority in this unfair world. If a child has a mental illness, it is society’s problem as the background of that child has given it to him. If someone kills and it is on the news, the psychologists always give their profiles telling us what he or she is, but never why he or she is like they are. Since the 1970’s we have been more interested in lowering taxes on our wages than paying for a reliable service that could prevent a child wanting to take revenge at a young age. Why wait until they have fulfilled their fantasy to treat them for any signs of psychotic behaviours when prevention is better than cure. Society. Life.

“Bishop!” Stephen heard the daunting tones of his PE Teacher who was also his abuser from behind him. Inside he became nervous, outside he was shaking. He tried his hardest every day to escape the teacher, who was starting to hound him on a daily basis, making excuses to interrupt classes to tell him that Stephen had to see him in his office at certain times for his counselling. Mr Mendham repeatedly told him, ‘You

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A Dish Best Served Cold can’t tell anyone about our little counselling sessions. No one will believe you anyway. Schoolboys have fantasies.’ Up until now, the sexual abuse had always been masturbation and touching. Stephen was also made to return the sexual act by masturbating his teacher. What he did not know was that it was about to go one step further. Stephen stopped dead in his tracks. It was his morning break, and he only had fifteen minutes. He turned around. “Yes, Sir?” “Follow me,” Mr Mendham said, turning around and heading past the cloakroom and turning left up the stairs. Stephen followed him cautiously, but after two flights of stairs, midway to the next floor, Mr Mendham had unlocked the door to a little room that mirrored the staff room on the other side of the building. The teacher held the door open. Stephen looked frightened. He was hoping that someone was going to come and rescue him, but no one did. The pupils were all outside on break time, and the rest of the staff were either in the staff room or preparing their next lesson. It was quiet, apart from the noise in the playground. He closed the door as he went in and looked at the teacher. Inside he was despising him, hating him, and had even thought about doing the same to him as he had to Nigel Dodd. “Lock the door,” Mr Mendham instructed him, as Stephen turned the big iron key on the lock. “Now come here.” Stephen was wondering what he was going to do as there were no chairs, only a large desk like the ones that the Teachers had in their classrooms. He watched as the curtains were pulled, the light still

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A Dish Best Served Cold shining through the gap in the top and also piercing the curtains which were both thin and light, but enough to stop anyone seeing anything from the buildings opposite the school. The boy walked over towards the desk. Mr Mendham made a grab for the button on his trousers and released it, undid the zip, and let the trousers fall to the floor. Then he started rubbing his penis until it got hard instantly masturbating him. Stephen ejaculated over his hand and some of his semen went on the floor, but he did not have time to think about it, as his teacher had spun him around and pushed him with force over the table, pinning his wrists down on the table top with his strong hands. “Keep still,” shouted Mr Mendham. “I said keep still!” Suddenly Stephen felt a sharp pain as the teacher adjusted his clothing pulling his own underwear down, pushed forward and raped him. He was not expecting this at all. It would not happen again, he told himself as the pain went on for what seemed like forever as the teacher kept thrusting into him. Stephen kept shouting “Sir, no! Please!” But it was too late. Mr Mendham did not care about how much he hurt the boy. All he cared about was his own sexual gratification. Finally, Mr Mendham ejaculated in him and carried on thrusting powerfully until he stopped, still in him as he caught his breath. Stephen had tears in his eyes, staring forward towards the closed curtains. “Put you clothes back on boy!” Mr Mendham instructed him as he withdrew his penis from him and started pulling his trousers up. Then he walked to the door and unlocked it. Before he exited, he looked back. “Remember, not a word boy.”

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The thoughts going through the boy’s head were confusing as he pulled his pants and trousers up.. He felt dirty. He needed a bath. He had done this sort of thing with Mark, he knew, but Mark and he were together, and it did not hurt. Stephen could feel something dripping in his underpants and knew exactly what it was. He had to get out of there. He wanted to scream. Hesitating for a minute, he looked around, his mind was wandering further through confusion, even chaos. Then it hit him. He had been raped. By a man. A man who should know better. He grabbed his bag and ran out of the room. He wanted to be sick, although the feeling was coming from his stomach. As he got outside the school, he vomited on the pavement several times, until there was nothing more to vomit. Trying to hold in his tears in case any passers-by saw him crying, he walked towards Beaumont Park at first, but then increased his pace to a run, as though he had the ball on the rugby field. Stephen got in the park. He had to think. He carried on running over towards the benches which were around the big oak tree in the centre of the park. He knew he could not stay there long. Someone would realise he was gone, and they would try to establish what had happened to him. Plus, it would be lunchtime in in 80 minutes and the park would be full of schoolboys, some of them from his year. He opened his bag and took out his drink that Mum had given him that morning. Then he knew where he had to go. Up to see his brother. He had not been up there for a while, so perhaps he had lost his guidance. He moved on quickly.

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Back at the School, no one had realised that he was missing, despite the empty desk. The teacher for double physics, Mr Furze, did not bother to take a register verbally but instead ticked each of the pupils off as and when they entered his room. Anyone not ticked off he assumed was absent from school that day. Mark Dawe had realised that his boyfriend was not in the playground at break time, and the seat beside him that was usually occupied by him was empty. There was probably a good reason, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had gone home because he was not feeling well. But something was not right. He would have told him if he were not going to be in class in order that he could tell the teacher. Maybe he would mention it when Mr Furze came around after explaining the experiment that they were going to do today.

Stephen was finally at the cemetery. Someone was talking to him, but when he looked there was no one else around. He became anxious, thinking that Mr Mendham was following him. He did not realise that the sexual abuse was making him paranoid at every point. Looking around once more, he headed down to see his brother, sitting down beside the grave as he normally did. “Hi David. I need you, Bruv.” He waited for a reply. Someone was speaking to him again. But it seemed like a million voices in his head. He closed his eyes, trying to filter out the noise, and concentrated just on his brother. ‘What is wrong, Stevie?’ It was him. David. “Something has happened to me at school. I do not know what to do. I’m scared.”

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‘What happened? You can tell me. I am your big brother.’ “It’s embarrassing.” ‘You know you can tell me anything. But I think I know already!’ Stephen leaned back, shocked at the reply. How could he know? Was he in heaven looking down on him? “How did you know about that, David?” ‘I know everything about you.’ “Can you see me where you are?” Stephen asked. ‘Always! I know what you have been doing. It’s not a bad thing being homosexual.’ “You know about that?” Stephen seemed surprised again. Just how could his brother know these things? It was confusing him. He looked at the headstone standing gracefully over the grave. Perhaps there was life after death. ‘What was his name again? Mark?’ Stephen paused. “Yes. Yes. But how …?” ‘I told you, I know everything about you.’ The voice no longer sounded like his brothers, which concerned him for a moment. He had heard millions of voices a few minutes earlier that filled his head and did not let him think straight. This could be one of them. “Who are you?” Stephen asked concerningly. ‘I’m your brother. I’m everyone’s brother.’ The voice paused for a moment, as though it knew that his target was suspicious. ‘Did that teacher hurt you today?’ Stephen starred again, his face dropping with surprise. Then he just nodded.

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‘He did you well and truly up the arse, didn’t he? I bet you are hurting down there now! And your mum is not going to be pleased with the stain in your underpants.’ This was totally unlike David to speak like this. “I don’t want to speak to you anymore. I do not think you are my brother. He is kind and loving.” ‘You listen to me you little fuck, or I will tell everyone that it was you who killed that boy. What was his name again? Oh yes. Nigel Dodd.’ Stephen put his hands over his ears and scrunched his eyes closed. “I’m not listening to you! You are a figment of my imagination!” He raised his knees and rested his chin on them. “You are not David. You are not David!” ‘That Teacher raped you. What are you going to do about him?’ “I’m not listening!” Stephen shouted, but in reality, he had no choice. Even with his hands over his ears, the voices were still getting through. Then he screamed out, “I’m not listening! I’m not listening!” ‘You know what you have to do, Stephen. He deserves to die for what he did to you!’ “Go away!” the boy shouted back. ‘How are you going to do it? How are you going to kill him Stephen? Do it! You know that you want to!’ “I’m not listening!” Stephen screamed once more. “I’M NOT LISTENING TO YOU!” An older couple were walking up the path close to the grave that Stephen was sat on. They started mumbling to each other and then asked, “Are you alright there, son?” Stephen did not see or hear them. All he heard was the voice in his head. The one that he

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A Dish Best Served Cold wanted to go away. They walked on, mumbling again, but concerned for the boy on the grave. They headed towards the main gate to try and get the attention of the warden who was normally at the lodge situated right beside the gate. ‘Kill him! Kill him!’ were now the only words that Stephen could hear and now there were most voices shouting to him in harmony, not only the one claiming to be his brother David. He picked up his schoolbag and ran back up towards the crematorium building, telling himself that he was never coming back to the cemetery ever again. But he still heard the hundreds of voices in his head shouting, ‘Kill him! Kill him!’ over and over again. It was driving him insane as he ran through the car port at the main building, not looking where he was going as his hands were now covering his face. He stopped, and then just collapsed down on the ground. He was feeling groggy as though all his energy had been sucked right out of him. He had a headache and taking a look at his hands he noticed some grazes from the fall. He also felt something coming down his head, reached up and then saw it was blood. He must have banged his head when he fell, he thought. But one good thing. The voices had gone. He rested his back against a door whilst he caught his breath. The warden took a slow walk down the main pathway towards the crematorium, scanning the area to see if he could see the boy that the couple had told him about. There was no one around the graves that he could see, and the couple had said it was on the right on the pathway before the fountain. He was going to walk around the building when he heard heavy breathing coming from around the corner, sounding

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A Dish Best Served Cold like it was coming from the door of the chapel. “Hello? Is anybody there?” Stephen heard the voice, only this time it was not in his head. But he could not move. He was exhausted. “Oh God, are you okay?” The warden asked as he came around the corner and rushed over towards the boy on the ground. He saw the bump on his head, and then used his key to get inside the crematorium office to get the first aid kit. “What happened?” Stephen was finding it hard to catch his breath and to even speak. The warden asked, “Are you the boy who was sat at the grave just now?” Stephen nodded as the warden patched him up, holding a pad on the bump on his head and wiping the grazes on his hands. He took the pad away to quickly check, and then replaced it again to make sure the bleeding was stopping and beginning to clot. “I think we should get you an ambulance.” “NO!” he replied with a grated voice as though he had a sore throat. The first words the boy had spoken since he fell. “No. Please. I will be ok.” “Do you want me to call your parents?” The Warden asked, watching the boy try and push himself up to his feet. “Here, let me help you.” “I’m okay. Don’t bother with my parents. Please help me up.” He placed his arm under Stephen’s right arm and helped him to his feet, remaining alert just in case the boy fell again. “Well come up to the lodge and get a cup of tea before you go. Couple of sugars will give you your energy back. I will get you a taxi to go home then. It’s okay the Council will pay for it!”

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“Thank you,” Stephen said as the warden helped him to walk slowly forward, noticing that he was also limping. They got back to the lodge and within minutes the lad was enjoying a cup of tea with three sugars, which was a bit of a surprise as normally he only drank black coffee with no sugar. But it was making him feel alive again. “My name is Gary. I’m the cemetery warden,” he said, holding his hand out to shake with a now much more alert boy. “Stephen,” he replied acknowledging the hand with a shake. “What happened? That old couple were really concerned about you.” “I suffer from blackouts. They think it could be epilepsy.” Gary stopped and took a sip of his own tea. “Oh no! That must be terrible for you. Not knowing if you are going to collapse at any time.” Stephen nodded. “More than you can believe.” He drank down his tea and banged the mug on the table. “Any chance of another one, Gary?” “Of course,” the old man replied, reaching over, and taking his cup. “Everyone loves my tea. “I don’t do anything special to it. I just dump the tea bag in and add water!” “My mum does that with her cooking,” he replied, not really taking much notice as the thoughts of what had happened to him were on his mind. He did not know what to do. He did not think that he could even tell his two best friends, Mark, whom he had previously told about the masturbation by Mr Mendham, or Tara. Or could he tell Tara? She was

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A Dish Best Served Cold brilliant in Stephen’s mind. 15 going on 50 as his mother would have said. She was good for him. “Mum just dumps stuff in a pan and bang! Something special comes out of it.” “That’s mums for you. Make the most of your mum. Best person in the world. Mine has gone now.” Gary hesitated and stared forward. He was wondering what was really wrong with the boy because was distant. Gary knew the after-effects of epilepsy, and this was not one of them. “I’m sorry,” Stephen replied, his mind wandering again. Perhaps he should tell him mum. She is the only thing he has left. But she did not take the gay thing very well. He knew he would have to explain the bumps and bruises of the fall, and knew the first question would be, ‘Have you been fighting again’. But who could he tell about the voices in his head? He would probably be locked up in the nut house if they found out about that. He could not tell anybody. Nobody would ever speak to him again or be friends with him. Gary interrupted his thought process. “Don’t be sorry. People die. That is the only thing in life that is certain. We do not know when or where. We might know how.” He passed the boy his second cup of tea. “Three sugars again. You will be hyperactive in a minute!” He watched as the boy gulped it down again. “Thirsty?” “You make lovely tea, Gary.” “Well anytime you are around this way, if you fancy a cup or two and I am here, just knock.” Gary looked at the boy, hoping that everything was alright with him. “I have a Grandson about your age, so as you

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A Dish Best Served Cold can understand, I am concerned about what happened down there.” “I’ll be fine, I promise.” “As long as you are,” Gary replied. “Now you better get home. Your parents will be wondering where you are. Let me call that Taxi for you.”

Twenty minutes later, the taxi was approaching the middle of Langdale Gardens, and pulled up right beside the row of houses where he lived. His mind was still over-active, but right now he was trying to work out what he was going to tell his mother about his injuries. He would tell her the truth! He had a seizure and fell down. He was also wondering what she would say about him being absent from school again, as no doubt they had called her to give his mum the good news. What excuse could he give for that? Inside he was still hurting, frightened, angry, and concerned for his own safety. He did not want to go back to school. But unless he told his mother what Mr Mendham had been doing for the past months, how could he get away with not going? Then there was the embarrassment from the rest of his acquaintances in school. He knew that once the word was out, he would get ridiculed and his self- esteem would go right back to where it was when he first arrived at the school. Perhaps he should just run away from home. This moment. But where would he go? There was a time when he could have told his big sister Rachel. But they hardly spoke now ever since the incident with Mark. Stephen sat on the wall. He felt useless. Powerless. He could not think straight. Every time he tried to clear his mind, he thought of that breaktime in

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A Dish Best Served Cold the common room with Mr Mendham. Then he started questioning himself what he would do if the voices came back into his head. Right now, he did not need the hassle of being questioned as though he were guilty of something like his mother would do. He needed a friend. A good friend at that. Tara. He needed Tara. She understood him. She listened to him. He picked up his bag once more and headed up to the next row of houses that overlooked his. Then he tapped on the door. Her father answered, shocked at what he saw. “Oh, dear lad. You’ve been in the wars,” he said jokingly. “How’s the other guy?” “What?” asked Stephen, not understanding the joke. “The other guy who you have been fighting. Never mind, that joke was lost on you!” He looked towards the sitting room and luckily the door was still open even though the television was on loud. “Tara, your boyfriend is here!” Tara jumped up and quickly made her way to the door, joining in her father’s shock at Stephen’s wounds. “What the hell?” “I had a seizure. It is ok. I’m alright,” he replied. “Come upstairs,” she replied to him, knowing that something was wrong. She had only known him for a short time, but she could read him like a book. She watched her dad disappear back into the living room and then pulled his hand. His body language said it all. It was like he was in a trance, overcome with guilt in some way. He sat on the end of her bed but said nothing. Tara could see that this was not the normal Stephen.

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She sat down beside him. “Hey boyfriend! What is the matter? You know you can tell me.” His face began to look even more sorrowful and tears were beginning to fill his eyes. “You had a seizure? Looks like you had more than that. Look at these bruises.” Stephen looked at his hands, his arms. Those were not from the seizure. That is where Mr Mendham had pinned him down on the table. Stephen had just let it happen, hoping that it would be over quite quickly. “Tara.” “Come on. You know we have no secrets. We trust each other.” He knew that. He knew that he could trust her. “You promise not to tell anyone. Anyone at all?” “I promise. I have kept all my promises so far, haven’t I? So, what has happened?” Stephen paused, lowered his head in disgust. “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head and then holding his forehead, rubbing his eyes as though he were tired. Tara put her arm around him. “Listen, I’m your friend. You can tell me anything. It must be something bad or you wouldn’t be like this.” He shook his head once more, still feeling embarrassed, especially in front of a girl. But then he remembered that he chose to come here to see her. She was right. She is a good friend. “Don’t judge me if I tell you,” he said. “You should know me by now. Sometimes it’s good to let out your feelings.” Stephen hesitated, and then looked at her eye to eye. She responded by smiling at him, but in a positive way. “I’ve just had a very bad day,” he said. “A very, very bad day.” He started twiddling his fingers. “I

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A Dish Best Served Cold don’t know where to start. My…” He paused, choking back on his words. “My…” Tara pulled him close, so their heads were touching and their bodies together. “Tell me. Come on. You can do it.” “Bad day. Bad day.” He muttered as though he were miles away from reality. “My… teacher raped me.” His friend’s face dropped and she didn’t believe what she had heard, and for the first time in her life, was left speechless. There was a silence. Then Tara knew she had to take control of him. “When did this happen? Which teacher?” “This morning in break time. Mr Mendham who teaches PE.” “Have you told anyone?” “No! No. And you mustn’t either!” He snapped, even though he knew that he could tell her things in confidence and she would never repeat them to anyone. “He has been sexually abusing me for months. Usually just wanking me or putting my hand down his trousers. This time he went further.” Stephen burst out crying, so Tara held him tighter to give him more support and more love and understanding. “What did you do when it stopped?” she asked. “I felt dirty and had to get out. I ran away from school.” He started to remember the whole incident again, seeing his journey in his head as he glared forwards. “I went up to the cemetery to speak to my brother, only it wasn’t him. It was someone else. As I left, I had a seizure and banged my head, grazed all parts of my body. The warden picked me up and here I am. I haven’t been home yet.”

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“Did your teacher use anything when he raped you?” Tara asked, watching as her friend shook his head. She hesitated, and then coughed. “This is bad, babes.” “No. He didn’t use protection. But that’s not all.” “There is more?” she asked concerningly, staring at him with angry eyes, but not for him. “I heard voices at the cemetery. That is what happens when I say I speak to my brother. Only this time it was just like there were hundreds of voices. I had to get out of there as well.” “Come here,” she said now hugging him for support. “Am I going mad, Tara? I need to know. I’m scared!” “No,” she snapped back at him. “Don’t ever think that.” “The voices, the voices told me I had to kill him. As revenge.” Stephen started crying again, feeling that he was going to weep forever as the emotions overtook his normality. Tara started to sway with him in her arms to try and calm him like she would a child. “Those voices are not real, babes. Not real at all. You are not a killer. You will not kill him. You do not have to. But what I do think you have to do is stop going up to visit your brother’s grave on your own. It is not doing you any good.” “I know. Now it is not my brother that I speak to.” “Well,” Tara said suggestively, “If you do feel like going up, ask me and I will come with you then.” She rocked him from side to side once more, like a mother cuddling her young child to sleep. She wondered whether Stephen had felt the same protection as a

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A Dish Best Served Cold baby would, with their mother just being there. He was safe. Tara would protect him. Stephen was just a child in real life. He had told her many things about his childhood, so she knew that he had already been through a great deal of issues. But this latest revelation was really out of her depth. If someone raped her, she would not have any hesitation in going to the Police. Stephen would be scared of going to the Police, because he worried about what people thought of him. But he was also afraid of telling his mother, or sister. His body went heavy in her arms, and she realised he was asleep. She laid him back on her bed and realised that is where he was going to stay for the night. Because he was out for the count. The bad day had gotten the better of him.

The boy slept for what seemed like a lifetime to his friend Tara, who had telephoned his mother to let her know where he was and that he had fallen asleep. Tara sat beside him rubbing his head and brushing his hair with her hand to comfort him. She noticed he was very edgy in his sleep, his body sometimes jerking, and he regularly spoke in his sleep as though he were dreaming. She often wondered what it would be like if the two of them were girlfriend and boyfriend as opposed to just friends. She knew that Stephen was very particular about who he respected in life. But then he would do anything for her and expected nothing in return. What had come out from their time together was that he hated life, even more so now because of the school incident. She did not want to tell anyone and break his confidence, but what he had told her was serious. Just how many other boys had, and was, the

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A Dish Best Served Cold teacher doing the same thing to? She understood why he did not want to say anything. If it had happened to her, she would have told someone, but she and Stephen were two totally different characters, like chalk and cheese to the neighbourhood. She looked at him laid down on her bed and decided to join him so she could put her arms around him. He needed some loving arms of the right kind. She felt him shaking as she cuddled in close to him. Before she knew it, she was sleeping as well.

The next day, Stephen woke up, said his goodbyes to Tara and then ran home to get showered and dressed for school. Gone were the thoughts of never returning ever again in case Mr Mendham did that thing to him again. His sleep had given him something to think about. He had heard the voices in his sleep, and message was implanted into his head. ‘Kill him. Otherwise he will attack you again. Strike first!’. He did not even bother to meet Mark at the bus stop, because his mind was elsewhere. He went straight into school and down to the woodwork classroom, tapping on the door just in case Mr Hobbs the woodwork teacher was in there. No one, so he pushed the big heavy Victorian oak door open with his elbow, and then looked over to the tool cabinet. Picking up a piece of rag left on the workbench, he wrapped it around the cabinet handle and opened the door, stopping suddenly as he thought he heard a noise. Nothing. It was quiet again, so he reached into the cabinet and took out one of the large chisels and quickly shoved it into his schoolbag. He closed the

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A Dish Best Served Cold cabinet, and then opened the door, looking left and right to check no one was in the corridor. He went up to the cloakroom and sat down. The voices were in his head again. This time it was his brothers voice, but the instructions had turned from auditory to intrusive communication. ‘He will do it again. He is going to fuck you!’ Stephen raised his hand to his ears and closed his eyes. “Go away!” He tried to hide away in the corner of the cloakroom, but the pupils were coming in to hang their coats up and although they took no notice of him, he knew that they were there. They were looking at him and he did not like that. ‘Kill them. Kill them all! Teach them all a lesson!’ The voice was now even more angry than before, and it was not David speaking to him, but many voices in tandem, just like he had heard up at the cemetery. ‘Do it! Do it now!’ He got up and headed for the exit, his eyes staring forward as though he was in a zombie state, he saw nothing else as he headed upstairs to the chemistry and physics laboratories on the top floor. No one was there. Staff and pupils were all going to assembly on the floor below in the school hall. He walked in the chemistry laboratory and picked up a pair of the chemical protection gloves that they had to use during lessons. Then he went around the benches knocking over most of the chemical bottles that were in the racks above the benches. He looked at the gas valves where the boys would plug their Bunsen burners into with a rubber tube. The he started to switch on the gas valves that provided gas to all the Bunsen burners,

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A Dish Best Served Cold ensuring all twenty were leaking out. He left the lab, closing the door. It was already beginning to smell. Stephen headed back down the stairs, stopping to look on the first floor at the pupils who were gathered waiting for the Headmaster to take assembly. He carried on down the stairs, turned right and headed past the cloakroom towards the gym. There were more voices shouting at him, like it was coming from the assembly hall, a mixture of men’s and women’s voices. ‘Kill him! Kill him!’ He took the chisel out of his bag and walked into the gym, closed the door behind him. Then headed towards Mr Mendham’s office at the end, his eyes wide and angry, his breathing increased. He just walked in. “Bishop. It’s nice to see you with your clothes on,” the teacher smirked, but not for long. Not giving him a chance to say or do anything else, Stephen swiped the bevelled chisel edge across Mr Mendham’s throat. “You’re not fucking smiling now, are you? Dirty fucking pervert!” He watched as the teacher tried to get up from his chair, the wound oozing blood as the teacher placed his hands on his throat and tried to stop the bleeding. He gasped, not being able to speak properly and then staggered forward. Stephen continued to hear the voices, ‘Kill him, kill him.’ Then he thrust the same chisel in between his teachers legs aiming at the groin area. He stood and watched Mr Mendham fall to the ground, backing away as he did. “You won’t be needing your fucking penis anymore!” Mendham’s body became lifeless, as the boy stood over him feeling excited about his kill like a hunter killing a lion. He smiled psychotically; his eyes blackened with revenge as the voices stopped

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A Dish Best Served Cold speaking to him but started to laugh. Hundreds of them congratulating him for the kill. He had to get out. The gas could explode at any minute, especially as Mr Jenkins was always smoking around the school, assembly was about to finish, and the teachers would all be heading to their classrooms. He ran out the side door to the playground and out of the side school gate. Then casually, he walked up to the front door, where Mr Tynan was waiting for any latecomers. He saw Stephen and looked at his watch. “What time do you call this?” he asked jokingly tapping the timepiece. “Sorry Mr Tynan, Sir. I stayed at a friend’s last night and missed the bus!” He said, apologetically. “I had to get the later one that has all the people going to work on.” “I should give you a detention. But come in sometime this week and address a few of the PTA envelopes for me, and we will call it quits.” Tom Tynan smiled at him. He liked Stephen and thought that he could get the best out of him just by being nice to him, and just as he had by getting him to play rugby. He waited for the bell, and then walked into his form room which was right by the cloakroom on the ground floor and did so as part of his class so he would not be missed. Mark suddenly saw him sat at their communal desk. “Hey bud,” he said, surprised that Stephen did not meet him at the bus stop that morning. “Where were you this morning?” “I was late,” Stephen replied. “I fell asleep at Tara’s last night and didn’t get up in time for the early bus.”

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Suddenly there was a loud explosion, and a rumble throughout the school which made the walls shake. Mr Ward, the form tutor was just entering the classroom. He heard the class discussing what the noise was as another explosion filled the school with a bang and the fire alarm started echoing around them. “Class, right, nice and slowly, let’s make our way out of the building to the fire assembly point!” Stephen watched them all leave and then followed with Mark. “I wonder what the noise was?” “God knows,” Mark replied as they both looked up. The ceiling was making a grinding noise as though metal was being rubbed on metal. There was smoke bellowing out of the roof of the school and flames ensuring the windows could not be accessed by anyone. Mark looked down the corridor towards the gym. The ceiling fell right before his eyes and appeared to crush some of the boys. “Fuck, we better get out now!” He snapped as he grabbed Stephen’s hand and ran down the stone steps towards the front entrance, which to him was the safest way to go. “Thanks for that,” Stephen said, still holding his hand. “Hold on,” Mark replied concerningly looking at his white shirt. “You are bleeding. Look!” He pointed to a small spot of blood on his shirt. “It’s nothing,” the boy replied. “I must have cut myself on the way. Banged into the desk when I got up.” He looked up to the top of the building. “Oh my God. Look at those flames!” Mark forgot about the blood and joined him in looking up. “That was some explosion! Well two, there were two bangs. I wonder what it was.”

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“No idea. Sounded like a bomb!” Stephen continued to look up. He had no idea that it was him who caused this. The voices had gone. He was back to being Stephen.

The School survived from the outside although most of the stonework was blackened with the aftermath of the flames. The inside of the school was completely gutted. Most of it was timber as the school had been built in the 1800’s and partly rebuilt after the second world war. The Headmaster commented in an Evening Herald interview that he did not think the school would survive this time. The bad news was that out of the 394 pupils, 62 died and 156 were injured. 38 had serious burns. They lost many teachers, with Messrs Jenkins, Furze, Sanders, Harrington, Tonkiss and Mendham pronounced dead once their bodies were found, removed from the rubble, and identified. It was a tragedy that the City would not forget for a long time. The Fire Brigade investigated the cause. It was a gas explosion, but the building was so severely damaged inside, they could not find the root of the issue or say if it was accidental or not. Everything was burned to smithereens on the top floor, and the first floor collapsed down onto the ground floor. Stephen picked up his Mum’s copy of the Evening Herald that she had delivered daily and read the interview. He chuckled. No conscience. He did not care. That place had been nothing but bother for him. Time to move on.

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Chapter 20

Many parents notice the difference in children as they transform from child to teenager. Some have commented that after the voice breaks, the language is usually grunts along with some type of bad attitude involving answering back to anything a parent may say to them. Experts call this transition adolescence. The adolescent has many decisions to make about his or her life during this time, from deciding what they want to do when they leave school and therefore choose the correct subjects to study, to what sort of life they are going to lead as either heterosexual or homosexual. They find their own identity and often find drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol. No transition is straightforward. Again, it all depends on things at home and the support network that is in place for the child to make the jump. But upper-class parents can feel the brunt of a teenager just as much as lower class, as they grapple with insecurities and have feelings that everything is their fault. Parents are seen as often moaning at them.

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Then comes something that can make a drastic change for good or bad. Broken homes where the parents have gone their separate ways and may have even remarried. The newly found adult may not be doing well at school, or not living up to their parent’s expectations in other areas. In major Cities the gang culture is rife, and many youngsters are expected and forced by their peers to join a gang, which can lead to them becoming violent, or becoming drug runners. The other side is when something unbecoming happens to the adult to be. Something that is not the norm to transition. The child or young adult is the target for sexual abuse from someone they know. It could be a family member or someone in authority at school, or a boy’s club leader. Either way, most attacks of this kind are made by someone they know. The child changes inside, becomes disassociated with his peers, frightened, anxious, and sometimes suicidal. At other times they take out their frustration with violence to get rid of the anger. They become that same person. Life makes them what they are. No one can control it.

It had been just over a year since the gas explosion at Stephen’s school, and two years since Nigel Dodd had left the world. Stephen didn’t have one ounce of remorse about killing him or letting two other boys take the blame for the murder, the latter being sentenced to a minimum of 12 years for the murder of Nigel Dodd and an extra 4 years each for the GBH on Stephen’s friend Martin. Society had given them a blow, but for a 14-year old to think of such a plan at such short notice was worrying. The school fire just proved that he could

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A Dish Best Served Cold do it. Mendham deserved what he got. The rest were just collateral damage. Stephen had no conscience for doing what he did. In the time since the two crimes, Stephen and Martin had actually lost contact after an argument about his relationship with Mark, who, since Stephen left school, he had also lost contact with. But his relationship with Tara was rosy. They had become the absolute best of friends, and understood each other, stood up for each other and covered for each other in times of trouble. Stephen and Tara sat on the same bench in the park just up from her house. They were discussing how they could get back at an old man who they called ‘Grumpy’, who lived in the row of houses looking right over the park and complained at the least little noise. If you don’t like noise, why buy a house above a children’s play park? Stephen had come up with a plan. He had picked up a roll of his mother’s sewing thread, making sure it was one of the colours that she never used in order that she would not miss it anytime soon. He placed a piece of Blu-Tack on the end. Tara went up to the next row of houses with one end of the roll of thread, and Stephen attached the other end piece with the Blu-Tack to Grumpy’s door knocker. He then ran up the steps to be with Tara. They pulled the thread and the door knocker rattled. Grumpy answered the door and saw no one. So, he shut the door. They pulled the thread many times after that and each time Grumpy came out and by the last time, he started to swear, and shout at children that were not actually there, at one point blaming his own Granddaughter. The two laughed as they rested their backs against the wall.

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“Stephen?” “Yeh?” He replied, still laughing. “Why can’t you be straight?” Tara asked, staring into his eyes. She fancied a gay guy. But was he really gay? Was it just a cover for who he really was? They got on so well and everyone thought they were together as a couple. Stephen even got an invite to his cousins wedding addressed to Stephen and Tara. “Life, babes. We cannot control who we fall in love with. But if I were, straight I mean, you would be top of my list.” He smiled and knocked shoulders with her. “As long as you cook my dinner for me every day!” Tara smacked him on the head for the remark, knowing that he would know she was joking with him just as he would be with her. “Would you ever do it with a girl?” “Why? Are you asking sexy?” He laughed. “Honestly, babes. I do not think I could even get hard if I were with a girl. I see a good-looking guy and think, ‘Yes’, and feel a stirring down below. I see a good- looking girl and still think, ‘Yes’. But there is no movement downstairs.” “Would you like to try?” Tara asked. “I mean, we sleep together anyway.” “With our clothes on!” He hesitated and started to throw the little stones that were on the pavement beside him. “What we got is special, Tara. I have never had a friend like you. As soon as it becomes sexual it makes it different.” “Was Mark the only guy you have been with?” She asked, hoping that there could be some chance between them. She told herself that she could accept

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A Dish Best Served Cold the fact that he had a homosexual relationship. “I mean apart from your teacher who raped you.” “Yes,” he replied with some sorrow in his voice as he remembered his boyfriend. “I haven’t seen him since we left school. Well, he did not leave. He went back for A Levels.” “You miss him then.” Tara said, hearing the regret in his voice. Stephen nodded and looked at her whilst still throwing stones. “You never forget your first love. You see, I could go out with a girl, but it would be like living a lie. Like telling everyone I was a Doctor or something. When I’m not.” Tara laughed. “Your mum thinks we are having sex. That we are together.” “She just doesn’t want a gay son. She thinks it is just a phase I am going through. She always has ever since my sister told her.” He threw a few more stones over the wall and started to wonder if he could turn the other way. Would it be successful if he tried it on with a girl? It would definitely please his Mum and other members of the family who had been told. “In any case. You do not want me. You can do better. Not saying I would not be jealous, because I would.” “You are so sweet, you know.” “I’d be jealous of you going out with whatever gorgeous guy you chose!” He said humorously, knowing he was going to get another smack from his best friend. “I’d have to let him shag me as well!” Tara reached over and pulled his head towards her and their lips met. He did not pull away but let her do what she wanted to do. The kiss lasted what

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A Dish Best Served Cold seemed like forever until she let go. “Well, you kiss well,” she said. “I want you to take me to bed.” “I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.” “Why would I be disappointed? Either it does or it does not work. But I want to find out for myself.” She put her hand on his crotch. “Well?” “You know I will do anything for you.” He kissed her once more, and then jumped up. “Is that a yes then?” He nodded. “Right after this!” He pulled the cotton thread again and it rattled the door knocker, but ‘Grumpy’ was waiting right behind the door this time. “Shit,” Stephen said, not expecting him to answer so quickly. He ducked down, but Tara was unaware and still standing. “What’s wrong?” she asked turning around, noticing the old man and then joining him in ducking down and hiding behind the wall. “I can see you!” The old man shouted, pointing up to the two silhouettes in the darkness. “I know you are there!” “Let’s go!” Stephen whispered to her. He grabbed her hand and let her lead him back down to her house. They went upstairs and both fell on her bed kissing like two teenagers in love. “You will have to show me what to do!” Stephen said as they both removed their clothes in record time and clambered underneath the covers. He began to worry and hoped it would not ruin their friendship, because that was worth a lot more than a failed shag. But he did not fail. Stephen and Tara had sex four times because the girl was very demanding and just wanted to see if she could turn a gay guy straight. After the fourth time, they

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A Dish Best Served Cold suddenly realised that they hadn’t used any form of protection. “Aren’t you on the pill?” Stephen asked her, being totally unused to this sort of situation, mainly because she was the first girl, and Mark and him had never used protection full stop. “No,” Tara replied. “You are the first guy I have slept with for ages.” “You are the only girl I have slept with ever!” He replied. “It was good though. I loved what you did.” Tara smiled and cuddled him tightly. “You weren’t too bad yourself!”

Katie sat waiting for Stephen to return home from Tara’s house and was watching the evening news listening in as the presenter announced the latest local issues.

‘Police are reopening the investigation into the fire that happened at a Plymouth School which resulted in many deaths and injuries, both teachers and pupils. Detective Inspector Cooper told ITV News that there was new evidence which was considerably important. Let us go over to our reporter Jane Marsden who is stood outside what is left of the school.’

Stephen’s mother then watched the live report from her son’s old school building that was now just a shell whilst the Education Authority decided what to do with it. She shook her head. It was such a beautiful building, she thought to herself. Who could do such a thing? The Detective commented that they now had evidence to prove that the fire was the result of an

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A Dish Best Served Cold arson attack, and they were investigating other avenues and more information would be made available later. She remembered that day well because she spent so much time trying to get an answer as to whether her son was safe and well that she left work and actually made her way to the school to find out for herself. The surviving teachers had taken all the boys down to Beaumont Park for safety because the fire meeting point was too close to the fire itself. She gathered her thoughts and remembered that her boy had blood on his shirt but did not know where it came from. “Stop it Katie,” she said out loudly to herself. “You are paranoid!”

It was nearly 11.30 pm when Stephen walked through the door. If he had still been at school, Katie would have said something to him, but he said he wanted to take a break from learning and then go to college next year. He was trying to get a job at the moment, and his mother had suggested him getting an apprenticeship and learn a trade like his father had at his age, but Stephen knew he just was not that practical. He could change an electrical plug, but that was about it. “Hi Mum!” he shouted from the hallway, wanting to go upstairs without any confrontation. “Stephen love. Come here! I have something to tell you,” she replied wanting to tell him the news about his old school. In true teenage style, he stood in the doorway and asked, “What?” “I’ll what you in a minute, son!” She replied jokingly.

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“I’m getting a bit big to put across your knee and get my arse smacked, Mum!” Stephen replied, joining in with her humour. “I can still do it! You are never too big!” She replied. “Anyway, I thought you should know the Police are reopening the case of the fire at the school. They now think it was arson. If that is the case, then the deaths will be counted as either murder or manslaughter.” She continued watching the news to see if there was any more about the school, but they had moved onto a different subject. “Is that all?” Stephen snapped back. “I’m going to my room.” “I just thought that you would be interested, love. As it was some of your friends that died.” No reply. There was no reply, just the sound of stamping teenage feet on the stairs and the usual slamming of his bedroom door.

The Police station was buzzing with life, and a mixture of plain clothed detectives and uniformed officers. DI Cooper had assembled a team of his best officers and commended uniformed officers to deal with the latest information that had been received about the gas explosions at Regent High School. He had hand- picked them because he knew they were reliable and would always give their best and go the extra mile for such a serious investigation. “Okay, listen up!” DI Cooper shouted as he took his prominent position in front of a white board that was plastered with photographs of known suspects. “Thank you for all agreeing to join Operation Target. This is

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A Dish Best Served Cold going to be a big operation, very pain staking and long.” He picked up a notepad that was on the table in front of him. “Now it started when an informant of DS Monahan was arrested on Monday. He asked to see the Sergeant and offered him information. Something that the informant had overheard in the Bretonside public house. “Is this informant reliable, Guv?” asked the youngest PC in the room, PC Robins, who was still learning the ropes at the age of nineteen. DI Cooper had asked the uniform inspector who was best from the younger PC’s, as they may need someone to come down to the youngster’s level when interviewing. DS Monahan intervened. “He’s exceptionally reliable and normally spot-on. Anything to get off all the shop-lifting charges!” The officers in the room all chuckled as PC Robins nodded an acknowledgement to DS Monahan. “DS Monahan, would you like to explain the information that he gave?” The DI said, welcoming the DS to the front with him and then resting his bottom on the edge of the table to give him the spotlight. “Just a reminder, nothing must go past these four walls.” “Right,” said DS Monahan looking at the whiteboard. “Some of you will know these characters.” He pointed to the photo on the top of the board. “For those of you who do not, this is Danny Tapper. It is believed that he leads a group of prolific paedophiles in Devon, but some have been known to travel from all over the Country.” “What have paedophiles got to do with a gas explosion at a school?” PC Robins asked.

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“He is on fire this morning,” DC Cooke commented jokingly, making the rest of the officers chuckle or moan because they just wanted to hear the information that was being told to them.. “I want you all to be on tip top form with this one,” DI Cooper interceded. “PC Robins is young and fresh, and therefore brings a young and fresh view.” DS Monahan got back to the picture. “I am getting there, PC Robins, but well done on asking. The rest of the paedophile gang are here. Some are well known to us, others not so. You will find their information in your packs.” Suddenly he was interrupted by a rustle of papers as most of the squad started looking at the contents of the folders they had been given. “So, to answer young PC Robins question, what is the connection? This is the connection.” He grabbed a piece of Blu-tack and pressed another photo against the board. The room went semi-quiet. “I’ve seen that guy before,” said PC Manson from the back of the room. “Wasn’t he a teacher at Regent High School? We got called to a fight at Marsh Mills. Schools Rugby Match that got out of hand. I’m sure he was the sports teacher.” DS Monahan looked at him and nodded, adding, “You are correct, PC Manson. He is also dead. His body was found after the explosion when they pulled it from the rubble. But forensics say he was not killed by the explosion. They have picked up that his throat was cut, and he was dead just before the explosions. We need to know who murdered him. It could have been anyone, someone from the paedophile ring, a pupil of the school or another teacher. We also need to know if the two are linked, because the murder and the

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A Dish Best Served Cold explosion happened around the same time. So, whoever did this may have wanted to cover their tracks.” “It’s less of a chance that it could have been the latter two though?” PC Manson asked. “Well yes and no. We do not know if he had upset anyone in the school, or wanted out of the paedophile ring, or perhaps one of the teachers threatened to expose him. We just do not know. It is going to be a long investigation. DS Monahan looked to see if there were more questions. “He was also Danny Tapper’s brother-in-law, and seen regularly with him, which is how we got this photo. His name was James Mendham. The only complaint we have on him is that he used to walk in the communal showers and watch the boys shower after sports afternoons.” “Were any charges brought Serge?” DC Cooke asked inquisitively and thinking he would get in before PC Robins did. “No. He wormed his way out of it by saying he didn’t realise he was doing anything wrong as the boys used to mess around and there had even been a fight. He reckons that he just used to sit in the doorway.” “How has he remained under the radar for so long? if he is a schoolteacher as well?” PC Robins asked positively, still making notes in his book. DS Monahan looked at the lad again. “We don’t know. He slipped through the net. It happens sometimes PC Robins, because they are not in the right place at the right time.” He paused, and then asked, “Any more questions before I hand you back to the DI?” There was a noisy silence, and DI Cooper got off the table.

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“Thank you, DS Monahan.” He said. “Right, our first job is to contact all the pupils who were at the school during the time that James Mendham was teaching there. If they were killed in the fire of which 62 were, speak to their families. We need to know if any of them were abused in any way, or if the parents have been told by their son’s that they were abused by Mendham or introduced to anyone by him. The list for each of you and who you are partnered with is in your pack. Four of you are assigned to picking up the paedophiles whose pictures are on the whiteboard. We need to know where they were on the day of the explosion, and if they had any links with James Mendham. Let’s get them!” All the squad looked at their respective files and calmly partnered with the respective names on their sheet. The teams that had to target interviewing pupils, of which there were 394 originally, 62 of which died and so the parents would have to be spoken to with some diplomacy and empathy, all left as there were a lot of contacts on each of their lists. They all knew it was going to be a difficult task ahead, and this was only the beginning. Some victims would have left school, and no doubt some had moved away. It did happen over a year ago and a lot can happen in that time. DS Monahan and DI Cooper had an appointment later in the morning with the Senior Investigator of Devon and Cornwall Fire Brigade. He had worked on the case for months after the explosion, analysing debris from the building. At first his team thought it was just an accident, perhaps a fractured gas outlet. But then they looked at the direction of melt and the heat shadows on the collapsed wood and brickwork

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A Dish Best Served Cold and became suspicious. There were too many gas fractions in too many places for it to be in one place.

The weekend had soon come around and Stephen woke early on the Saturday morning as his mother left for work. He switched on the television to see if there was anything else being reported about the investigation into the explosions at his old school, but he couldn’t see any news on any of the four channels, so he switched it off as quickly as he had switched it on. Then he looked for his mother’s newspapers. The Evening Herald’s for the week were all piled beside his mother’s chair on her small coffee table. He did not know why she had it there because there was never any room for a cup. The table was either full of newspapers or her knitting. He looked at the latest one, last night, Friday, and quickly flicked through the first few pages where the news was, as the rest was just advertisements both from companies and individuals. He smirked as he remembered that his mother always looked at the ‘Births, Marriages and Deaths’ section and always managed to find someone that she knew in the deaths, commenting, ‘Oh. Old Mrs so and so died’ or if she saw the details of one of the patients on her ward that had gone, the comment was, ‘Oh that’s nice they have put it in the paper’. He found nothing. He checked the other days. Still nothing. The Herald obviously had not picked up on the same story that his mother had seen on the television. Perhaps they thought that it was over a year ago that it had happened and was not worth following up on. In a way, Stephen was glad because the less publicity, the less limelight would come his way, even

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A Dish Best Served Cold though he had the perfect alibi for that day. Tom Tynan had seen him arrive late and had written his name down on the late roll call list. What he had to hope was that the list survived. He told himself that ‘No news is good news’ as his mother would say, and he was starting to feel that he was worrying unnecessarily so. Whatever this extra evidence was could not be something from the school building itself as they had finished their original investigation. It must be something from outside. Perhaps he needed to keep busy to keep his mind occupied on other things. It would probably be on the news at 6pm, he thought to himself. He would make sure that he watched that, knowing that he would have to keep abreast of the situation. He had a brainwave. Perhaps he needed to get away by himself and do some thinking. The weather was not that bad. He could go to Dartmoor and do some camping for a few days. Or should he ask Tara? Would she like to come with him? He could use that old tent that was in the shed which had only been used once like the sleeping bag from the school trip years ago, camping over near Seaton to study rock formations. They could hike up the Plym Valley to Shaugh Bridge, camp there for a night before heading further, up to Sheepstor. Yes, they could camp up near Drake’s Moat under the shelter of the big pine trees. Then go further, up to Princetown, and camp near either Little Mis Tor or Great Mis Tor. What an adventure it would be. He would ask Tara. Grabbing his Harrington jacket, he started to put it on as he went out of the house, checking to see if he

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A Dish Best Served Cold had his front door keys before he closed it properly. Then he went up to Tara’s house. “Hiya,” he said as she opened the door. She immediately pulled him inside and kissed him again, thinking that there was now something between them. Stephen was slightly confused. He thought that it was just going to be a casual affair, where she wanted a gay guy to shag her now and again. Fact was, he still went home and looked at his gay magazine before he went to bed. Perhaps he was bisexual? But Tara was the only female he had managed an erection with. “Everything alright?” she asked as she realised that he was not that responsive in his kiss. “Yes. I got this idea. How do you fancy coming camping with me the weekend?” “Wow,” she replied. “Bit of a spur of the moment decision, isn’t it?” Tara began to wonder what had brought this on, a sudden burst of what he thought was an inspirational idea. “Why do you want to go camping all of a sudden?” He put his arm around her to try and tempt her into saying yes. “Just feel like getting away.” She was not that interested, mainly because she knew him. She knew there was something wrong for him to just suddenly want to get away like this. They had no secrets between them, that was part of their pact. So, he needed to tell her everything. What was going through his mind? “Won’t it be cold up there on the moors?” She asked, trying to divert his thinking from the trip. “Well I’m going even if you don’t. I just need some thinking time. Come on Babes, it will be fun.” He thought that he would use a different approach then. “It

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A Dish Best Served Cold will give us time to get to know each other as boyfriend and girlfriend.” That was a bit of a lie, he thought to himself. But who knows what will happen when they are away on their trek? “Can I think about it?” She queried. “I will have to ask my Dad in any case. He will want to have the final say.” She knew that Stephen regularly came up with this crazy spur of the moment ideas when he was stressed or had felt that he couldn’t handle people. She also knew that he would probably change his mind tomorrow. “Yeh,” he replied. “No problem. No pressure.” But he knew something was wrong. Perhaps he should just go himself. But he did not want to be on his own right now. The thought went out of his head for now but was just shelved for the time being.

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A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 21

Albert Einstein once said that ‘Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous’. A coincidence is a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances that have no apparent causal connection with one another. No casual connection, but maybe a planned one. Whenever a mysterious crime takes place, the Police will attempt to solve it by piecing together the events and circumstances surrounding the case. However, complications can ensue when a coincidence enters the picture. When the law enforcement investigates a crime, they usually look for a modus operandi which can indicate if the same person is responsible for a series of crimes. It could be that the same person was the last person to see the victims in a series of separate murders, or killers that take ‘trophies’ once the deed is done. Psychology plays a big part in facilitating the profile of a serial criminal that may be responsible for whatever crime displays a coincidence. Criminal psychologist have been used in many cases in recent

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A Dish Best Served Cold years, determining the locality of the killer, his or her sex, approximate age, and their pastimes. They have not always been right, and sometimes have targeted the wrong suspect, with the British taxpayer picking up the bill for compensation. The intelligent criminal will go out of his or her way to ensure that no coincidence that would link them to the crimes would be immediately visible, and with the Police split into separate forces, then up until the introduction of technology, they had very little way of communicating with each other apart from the telephone to find out the coincidences unless they were clearly prominent. Some psychopaths, even at a young age are known to be intelligent, planning their crimes, hiding their paths of destruction, and not leaving the slightest element of evidence. Police have to use their common sense sometimes, their ‘hunch’ as some might call it. Catching an intelligent criminal takes intelligence, the need to be one step ahead, and where this is not present the need to bring in a criminal psychologist who would make it their business to predict their very next move.

DI Cooper, DS Monahan and the team had taken most of the Plymouth paedophiles in for questioning. Some had started to run, including Danny Tapper, when they heard on the grapevine that there was a crackdown on them, suspecting that the Police had something on them, especially if they were in one of the groups that preyed regularly on the Cities children. Why run? Where they that guilty?

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Both senior officers had been in the game for too long and knew that some would be easier to break than others, some would squeal at the least little mention of prison, where if convicted they would be beaten up and segregated. Others would be harder to break, if at all. They also had to accept that if there was a paedophile operating in one school then the matter might be further afield into other schools in the City or County or even maybe nationwide. They had found their squealer. He was a little man, to DI Cooper he resembled the build and the look of a leprechaun and it made it ironic that he was in fact Irish, originally from the outskirts of Cork, where he received a hostile awakening from the people of Ireland when it was rumoured that he sexually assaulted two young girls. Jason Taylor escaped possible prison or even being killed by a lynch mob. They did not bother with the Police as he escaped in his car and was chased by the vigilantes to the border. For some reason eight years ago, he had landed in Plymouth. DI Cooper knew that once he started talking, they would not be able to shut him up. “Hello Jason. Nice to see you again,” DI Cooper jested. “What have you been up to recently?” “Nothing, Mr Cooper, Sir. You know me.” “Yes, I do, Jason. This is DS Monahan. I don’t believe you have met him,” the senior detective said, nodding towards his counterpart. “Hello, Sir,” the very polite Irishman acknowledged, awaiting a reply but only getting a nod back from the Sergeant, who actually detested all paedophiles but had to remain discretionary and diplomatic throughout.

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DI Cooper threw his pen on the table and leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “You are not under arrest, Jason. Not at the moment anyway.” “Oh, I know that, Mr Cooper. Those nice officers asked me to come in. I had nothing else to do today, so why not come in for free coffee and biscuits?” “We are after some information, Jason,” the DI said to him, looking at him seriously. “Now we know that you are not our first suspect every time, but you might be able to help us.” “I’ll try, Mr Cooper, Sir,” he said, moving forward as if he were waiting for the DI to tell him what was wrong. “Okay, I’ll come straight to the point. Do you know anything about a paedophile gang operating in schools?” The DI looked at him seriously, analysing his body language and facial movement, which he knew that Jason was aware of and could have easily removed his emotions to try and confuse the perception. “Oh, that,” the suspect replied in a manner whereby it was not especially important, but that was just the Irish way. “So, you do know something?” DS Monahan said bluntly. “You can tell us more if you want. We might think that you have something to do with it otherwise.” Jason began to know that the Sergeant did not like him. Not that the Inspector did not like him, but there was a certain amount of courtesy from the more senior officer. “Well, I did hear something said in conversation. Something about a teacher grooming young boys and then introducing them to certain

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A Dish Best Served Cold acquaintances.” Jason paused, looking at both officers in turn to see if the information was what they wanted. DI Cooper knew that he was on the right track, as he never mentioned a teacher in the first place. “Can you say who was joining in the conversation?” “You know me, Mr Cooper. I do not give names. If you start giving names, you get blamed for things that you didn’t do.” He leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “But I will tell you that it is deeper than you think. There are some pretty high- profile dudes involved in this.” “What about you, Jason?” DS Monahan intervened once more, staring at him in the eyes, but not trusting anything he was saying. “Are you involved?” “Oh, no, no. To be sure. I’m not into little boys,” he snapped back as though he were disgusted at the thought. “I’m talking Councillors, Teachers. You name it, they have been there.” “And you have seen these people?” DI Cooper asked, still hoping that he would get some names from the grass. “Where have you seen them?” “I’m surprised that you lot haven’t caught on. They visit the homeless hostel in Devonport on Official Business so to speak,” he replied, performing a bunny ears with his fingers as he said, ‘Official Business’. “They are able to have the meeting room free as they are officials. The teacher used to arrange for the boys to turn up with a promise of money. Some did, some did not. If they did, they were let in the back door.” “You said the Teacher used to arrange them?” DS Monahan asked inquisitively.

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“The visits just suddenly stopped. I don’t know any more, Mr Cooper.” DI Cooper looked at his counterpart to silently gain agreement that they had asked everything that they needed to know, and DS Monahan shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, Jason. Thanks for your help. We may need to speak to you again. We can pay for good information, you know.” “What with, my life?” He replied, getting up and putting his coat that was hung on the back of the chair back on. “Have this one on me.” DS Monahan got up out of his chair. “Thanks for that. I’ll see you out.” He led Jason out to the main door and then went back in to see the DI. “Well, what do you think?” DI Cooper asked as he clicked the end of his pen, whilst trying to think if the information was worthwhile. “He seemed to know certain things that we hadn’t told him,” DS Monahan replied, himself deep in thought at what to do next. “But it may be worth following up.” The DI looked at him, hesitating for a few moments. “How about this. We wait to see what the statements from any victims brings in, and then we go for an observation operation on the shelter, and also some of the known paedophiles who were think could be involved.” The DS nodded his head in agreement. “Agreed. We may even get a few names that way.” “Okay then, who is next on the list?” he asked, looking at his notepad. “No. Please. It’s Mr body odour next.” The DI had interviewed the next man,

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Christopher Carter, several times over the past years. Problem was, he always smelt of B.O. and stank the interview room out. “I’ll leave you to it!” “No, you won’t,” joked the DS.

Stephen and Tara were laid on his bed playing music. Tara had banned ‘Dollar’ and had brought some of her Single’s and LP’s down, which were mostly Depeche Mode. Stephen hated it from the moment she put it on, but knew he had to compromise, as she must be fed up with his music, especially Dollar. His mother was downstairs and had relaxed her usual rule of ‘Not on the bed with a girl’ as she knew that there could be a chance that Tara would make him straight once more. Usually she would make the both of them sit downstairs, but then she realised that they would only go up to the girl’s house. In any case, it was just laughter, music and the two of them singing now and again. She looked at her watch. 7.15 pm. Coronation Street would be on in a minute. She liked Coronation Street and had tried to get all of her children interested. David used to sit down with her, although she realised it was just for a bit of Mum/Son time. Vicky was not bothered, Rachel showed an interest, but Stephen liked it less than he liked Tara’s music. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Katie wondered who it could be as Tara was upstairs. She saw two tall silhouettes through the glass, so she opened the door. “Mrs Bishop?” The younger man asked. “Yes, that’s right,” Katie replied with a serious look on her face. Were they salesmen trying to sell her

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A Dish Best Served Cold something that she did not want? But then DC Cooke flashed his warrant card to her. “Hello, I am DC Cooke from Devon and Cornwall Police. This is PC Manson. Could we come in for a few minutes? We need to speak to Stephen.” “What has he done now?” Katie snapped in reply, immediately shouting up the stairs, “Stephen! Down here! There are two Police Officers to see you!” DC Cooke tried to reassure her by saying, “He is not in any trouble, Mrs Bishop. We are speaking to all the pupils of Regent High School and need to ask him a few questions with you present of course.” “Well you had better come in,” Katie said, leading them through to the sitting room as PC Manson closed the front door and Stephen and Tara came racing down the stairs. “After you,” PC Manson said to the two youngsters, letting them go in before him. “Thanks,” Stephen replied, wondering what the hell this was about. Two plain clothes officers coming to see him. He just did not know. Was it something about the school burning down? Or had they found out something about Nigel Dodd? They all went in and took a seat and Tara asked, “Is it best if I go, Mrs Bishop?” but before she could answer, Stephen intervened. “No, stay.” Turning to the two officers, he said, “It’s alright if she stays, isn’t it? She is my best friend.” “As long as it is alright with your mum, because we have personal things to discuss,” DC Cooke replied. “It’s okay,” Katie said quietly. “You can’t separate those two these days.” The mother looked at

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A Dish Best Served Cold the two youngsters and smiled, thinking, ‘I do hope you two are together’. DC Cooke was asking the questions whilst PC Manson took notes. In all their interviews so far, that is how they worked, changing roles every time. “You went to Regent High School, Stephen?” He nodded. “Yes. It burnt down.” “Now I need to ask you something very delicate.” DC Cooke hated asking this sort of question and would not know if the boy would answer truthfully in front of what he thought was probably his girlfriend. No boy would like to admit such a thing to woman. “Alright,” the boy replied nervously, with butterflies in his stomach, like the first time he met Mark. But this was different. “Did you ever have anything to do with a teacher called James Mendham? Mr Mendham?” DC Cooke asked whilst looking at him. Stephen just went silent and did not look at the two of them individually. “What do you mean?” he finally asked, thinking that they were asking if he had something to do with his death. “Okay, let me explain this a bit better. We are looking into information that a Teacher in your school was sexually grooming children and introducing them to other Paedophiles.” Tara was ready to jump in and tell the truth. She thought it was about time someone was aware of what he did to her friend. But she decided to remain quiet for the time being. “Oh God,” Katie said in disgust, shaking her head and then hiding her eyes. “Stephen, love. You must answer the officers what they are asking you,

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A Dish Best Served Cold love. This is serious.” The boy looked at his mother and she saw fear in his eyes. Then he looked at Tara, who nodded slightly to tell him it was the right thing to do. He started feeling under pressure, guilty that he had let it happen, so much so that he knew he was too ashamed to tell complete strangers. He told Tara because he and she tell each other everything. But two men whom he does not know? That is hard. If Tara were not a girl, he probably would not have had the guts to tell her. Tara then came and sat beside him on the sofa to give him the support. He cleared his throat. “Mr Mendham used to touch me. He used to make me wait behind after class. Put his hand down my trousers and touch my privates.” Tears started to fill his eyes, and he looked to Tara for support. “He used to make me do it to him as well.” “And you didn’t tell anyone about this?” DC Cooke asked. “Yes,” Tara said. “He told me. I promised not to tell anyone unless he did.” She held her friend tight. “Tell them the rest now, babes.” “There’s more?” Katie asked, shocked at what she was hearing, but also beginning to feel guilty that he chose to tell Tara but not his own mother. Was she that unapproachable? “Days before the explosions, he took me in the common room between the ground and first floor.” “Oh no,” Katie intervened, knowing what he was going to say. DC Cooke believed him. He could see that he was telling the truth in his body language. “We have to hear it from you, Stephen. What else did he do?”

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Stephen hesitated and looked at Tara again who nodded to him. “He told me to get undressed. Then he dropped his trousers and raped me.” “Did he use protection, love?” Katie asked seriously. “A condom?” Stephen shook his head. “No. He didn’t. He came inside me. I was hurting for a week afterwards. I showered and bathed so many times after. I could not make it go away. I could smell him. On my uniform, on the towel I dried with. I hear him in my head even now. I do not sleep very well. The bastard raped me!” Katie moved and sat the other side of him so both females were cuddling him tightly. “Oh love. You should have told me.” “Stephen,” DC Cooke intervened. “Was this the only time that he went further?” The boy wiped his eyes with his sleeve and nodded. “Yes, it was.” “Was there anyone else involved? Any other staff or people you didn’t know?” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No one else.” “Okay,” DC Cooke replied calmly. “Mrs Bishop, we are going to need you to come to the station and let Stephen give us an in-depth statement. Is that alright with you Stephen? Hey, you did not do anything wrong. The man was a predator. He preyed on young boys. You were not the only one. Mendham is dead now as you know, but with your help we can try and stop it happening to others.” Stephen nodded again and wiped his tears again. “Now, the other issue we have to discuss with you is the explosions. Were you in school that day?”

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Stephen choked back the tears and nodded again. “I was late because I slept at Tara’s the night before and missed the bus.” PC Manson flipped the papers in his file and pulled out a sheet, showing it to his senior officer. “Ah, yes. Mr Tom Tynan signed you in,” He said watching the boy nod in agreement. “I went in and chatted to my friend Mark Dawe.” “Did you see anything suspicious as you arrived?” PC Manson asked calmly. Stephen maintained his innocent body language stance. “No. I spoke to Mr Tynan and then went into my form room. That is about it until the alarm went and then the floors started collapsing down the corridor. Me and Mark just got out as fast as we could.” “I can see the whole thing is upsetting you. We will leave it there and see you later with your mum.” DC Cooke said as he stood up. He watched Katie get up as well and turned his attention to her. “If you could come in on Saturday?” He checked his diary. “Midday okay for you?” “That is fine. It is my day off on Saturday so that works well,” she replied as the thought went through her mind as to when she was going to manage to do her shopping but knew that this matter was more important. “We will leave you then. Thank you, Stephen for being so truthful. Oh, by the way. Do you know of any other pupils that might have been targeted by Mr Mendham in the same way?” Stephen shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. He did not. Mr Mendham was very sly when it came to who he picked. Fatherless. Vulnerable. “He was the

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A Dish Best Served Cold school counsellor as well,”, he said quickly. “So, it might be those he was counselling.” “Ok, Thanks,” DC Cooke said, following his mother out into the hallway. Stephen and Tara watched as his mother saw the two officers out of the door. Katie then came back in and sat in the same seat that she had moved to during the interview. She reached out and hugged him. “Oh my, Son. I wish you could have told me what was happening. What sort of mother am I if my own son can’t speak to me?” “It’s alright, mum,” He replied. “You have had a lot on your mind recently. In any case, the guy is dead. He won’t be doing it to anyone else, will he?” “Have you been checked over?” Katie asked, being in a medical position as a nurse for her profession and knowing the procedures for sexually transmitted diseases. She noticed him as he shook his head. “I think we need to get you up to the hospital. He might have given you something.” “Mum, it was over a year ago. I’m sure I would have noticed something by now.” He looked at her seriously. The tears had long since disappeared, merely an act to keep him innocent in the eyes of the law. He had long accepted the sexual assault happened. He did not like it, but it was in the past, and he could not change anything. Katie did not want to push him, but she knew that this was more serious than telling the teacher he had a dentist appointment. “There are several sexually transmitted diseases that do not rear their heads for years. The blood test would pick up anything that you are unaware of.”

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“It’s better to be safe, babes,” Tara added, cuddling in tightly to his arm and looking directly at him. She knew that she had more clout than his mother being a fellow teenager and knowing that not many boys his age listened to their mothers, but always their best friends. “Then if there is something, anyone you have been with will know whether they need to get checked as well.” She looked at him seriously, her eyes reminding him that he had sex with her the other night. “Okay. I will get checked.” “It’s usually a blood test and then you go back for the results in about three weeks,” his mother said. “So, the sooner we get you to the G.U.M. Clinic, the better it will be.” “Tara can take me tomorrow whilst you are at work,” he replied sarcastically with a slight dig at his mother being at work so much and not having much time for him. Katie put the remark down to teenage attitude. “It’s ok. I can take the time off to take you up in the car. I can show you to the right place then.” “Can Tara come as well?” Stephen asked. I will feel more at ease with her there.” He looked at his mother waiting for a ‘yes’ and Katie stood wondering what the attraction between them both. She would love to ask if they were an ‘Item’, but she did not know if they were just best friends because Stephen trusted her, and he did not trust a lot of people. She was not even sure whether he trusted his own family and with recent events involving Mark Dawe this had only become more prominent.

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“Yes, of course she can,” his mother replied. “I’ll see if I can swap my shift and we will go first thing. They open at nine.”

The two officers were driving to their next name on their list, Mark Lemin. DC Cooke looked at his colleague briefly. “We need to get hold of that Counselling list. It’s worth following up.” PC Manson nodded whilst he looked at his notes whilst DC Cooke took his turn in driving. “Is it just coincidence that Stephen Bishop who we have just seen has been involved with two incidents, and both suspects have come to a sticky end?” “Who was that then?” DC Cooke asked, wanting to know if there was a good link between the two. “Well it says here that Stephen was bullied by Nigel Dodd at school and was attacked outside his home by the same. Nigel Dodd was killed.” “Yes, but they charged two boys for the murder.” DC Cooke began to think his colleague may not be thinking correctly about the case. “Well Stephen then had a run in with James Mendham, and hey ho, he is also dead.” PC Manson continued to read the notes on the background of the boy. “I think it could be worth mentioning.” “I don’t think a young boy would know how to start a major explosion,” the DC commented as he turned into the street where their next possible victim lived. “But then, James Mendham didn’t die from the explosion. That just finalised his death. He was probably dead from having his throat cut prior to the

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A Dish Best Served Cold explosion. So yes, it may be worth passing it to DS Monahan.” “I just have a feeling that there is more to that lad than meets the eye.” PC Manson said, closing the folder as they approached the house and the car started slowing. “We must remember that he has been sexually assaulted. Raped.” “Allegedly,” PC Manson snapped back. “What if he is just saying that to cover his tracks? He can’t prove he was a victim of Mendham.” “And neither can we at the moment. We will have a look at it when we get back to the station later.” DC Cooke got out of the car, waited for his colleague to close his door, and then locked it. “Well I suppose he was quite convincing.” DC Cooke nodded. “And very scared. I think there was a sexual assault. But the coincidence needs to be investigated.” He stopped at the bottom of the steps. “When we have asked if they knew of any possible victims of Mendham, how many mentioned Stephen? Just asking.” PC Manson looked at his notes. “Three. So far anyway.” “We will make sure that we keep asking then.

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Chapter 22

The Government’s view on getting a job is like looking through a frosted glass window. They very rarely take into consideration that people are all different. It would be a very boring world if they were all the same. We all have different traits, different attitudes, different intelligence levels and therefore different abilities. We all come from different backgrounds, rich, poor, violent, loving, single parent, adopted. You cannot just take a person and put them in an already justified group of people and say you will work as part of a team due to these issues. Someone at school may be well liked because they are tough, and it would be wrong to get on the bad side of them. The same happens in the workplace. If that person does not comply with the office politics where everyone is high on their own self-importance, then they will not last long in that position. Loners and social outcasts find it hard to be around other people and are better off in a job where their contact with others is limited. They might not have always been the

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A Dish Best Served Cold way they are, but life has dictated their thoughts through memories. Not all loners are psychopaths. Some prefer their own company. They try everything, joining a club, getting married, playing sport, even down to getting a best friend who appears to want to do everything for and with them. But they cannot function around people. In the event of a crime, the Police, normally guided by criminal psychologists in the serious cases, will quite often look at the loner who does not lead what society deems a normal life. The person does not comply, does not communicate well. Or they may do something that is not deemed as normal, such as study the occult, martial arts or watch outlawed pornography that may involve animals. Many of these people have never been given the chance in life, because they do not fit in. Yet they might be more intelligent than that bubbly person that you have just interviewed, but just not show their intelligence because no one has asked them to use it. Life treats people differently but for the wrong reasons. People will always tell you what you have done wrong, but never congratulate you for what you have done right. Live with it. That is part of today’s broken society. Life.

Stephen had applied for jobs, but none had come up trumps as yet. The Jobcentre had instructed him that unless he took a job, his benefits could be stopped. His mother had made him ‘sign on’ but he hated going there every fortnight to stand in a queue of people, most of who were moaning about how much they were getting for doing nothing. Stephen hated being there,

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A Dish Best Served Cold being amongst them. He just wanted to go and do what he had to do, but the appointment system was never on time. Buckwell Street Jobcentre was buzzing with the unemployed. Stephen sat down in cubicle 3 and passed his card over to the assistant. “Have you looked for work?” she asked abruptly as Stephen instantly nodded nervously. “Can I ask where?” Stephen looked at her quickly. “Factories. I’ve applied for an apprenticeship to be an electrician.” He could not remember what the name of the company was. The fact was, this was the only job he had applied for since leaving school. “I’m thinking on going to Plymouth College of Further Education.” “To do what?” She snapped. The boy looked at her. It looks like she has never smiled in her life, he thought to himself. Either that or she did not get laid last night. “I don’t know yet.” He knew he had to joke around with her just to get her to get rid of him as soon as possible. “My boyfriend is going to come with me to the open day.” The woman froze. “Boyfriend?” “Yes, boyfriend. I am a puff, a shirt lifter, gay, homosexual, a faggot. My arse has probably been shagged more than yours darling, and I’m only sixteen.” He watched her face turn to horror. The woman stamped his signing on card and simply said, “See you in two weeks!” Thank God for that, he thought as he exited quickly, smirking, and giggling inside. He had to tell Tara that one. But perhaps he should look for a job. But what could he do to be away from other people? He liked to be in control of situations, did not like people

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A Dish Best Served Cold moaning at him, so anything customer focussed would be a problem because he spoke his mind. Perhaps he should go and get a sick note from his GP. Tell his doctor about the voices that are in his head, but they had been quite dormant recently. Or perhaps he should go to college for further study? The thought was firmly in his mind as he returned home on the bus. He hated the bus ride. It was a long journey as it went through Mutley, Mannamead, Compton, Efford, Eggbuckland, Leigham and then finally Estover. In his mind it was a waste of an hour. He also hated the people on the bus. Granny’s going to and returning from town yapping about their gas bills, electricity bills, water bills, Council rates, going gaga over babies in mother’s arms and dogs that were brought on by their owners. It was like they had never seen a baby or a dog in their long lives before. But he was always polite, offering to help them off the bus or giving up his seat if the bus was full. Yes, he had to get a job. Vicky had bought a new house close to her mum in Mainstone. She was trying to make amends for her younger years and was trying to build bridges by inviting everyone down, hoping that her mother would be proud of her for getting her life back into order. She had a good job, a good fiancé who she wanted to introduce to the family rather than being an outcast. Katie had asked Stephen to come down with her, but he was not that keen. He remembered Vicky for who she was, self-centred and nasty. She had stood by whilst one of her previous boyfriends beat him. What if this new one did the same? The fact was, he was in a better position to defend himself now, so the threat would be less if it happened. So, he agreed to go with

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A Dish Best Served Cold his mother for moral support. In reality, he wanted to see Vicky’s new house. “Nice that we can forgive and forget,” his mother said to him as the car pulled up outside the house. She saw Vicky coming up the many steps to meet her and got out of the car. “Hello, love.” Vicky put her arms around her mother. “Hi Mum. Glad you are here. And Stephen! Come here baby brother.” Stephen looked surprised. Who was this person? This was not Vicky. Her body had been taken over by Aliens. He remembered a story that he had written at primary school about what he had done the weekend. The teacher had laughed as apparently Stephen had been abducted by aliens, taken up to their spacecraft and fed corned beef hash and beans, then he had taught them all the game ‘Mousetrap’ before returning home. Perhaps they had taken Vicky as well, he thought as a big grin filled his face at the thought. “Hello Vicky,” he said as he walked towards her. “Hello. How have you been?” Vicky asked, scuffing his hair at the same time. “Yes, I am fine,” he replied, still overwhelmed by his big sister’s personality transformation. “He’s got a girlfriend now, Vicky!” Mum exclaimed joyfully. “Wow,” Vicky began, surprisingly. “She is not my girlfriend, Mum. We are simply good friends!” Stephen knew his mother was hoping that he and Tara would be together. “Well who knows?” Vicky smiled at him. “Come on, come in and meet Harry.” She led the way down the steps which were at the side of a very slopped

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A Dish Best Served Cold garden. “The garden out the back is big and flat!” she continued as she saw the look on her mother’s face. “I bet that is hard to cut,” Katie said. “Very steep.” “Harry sees to that,” Vicky laughed. “That’s his job. Especially now we are going to have an addition to the family.” Stephen stopped. “What you are having a baby?” he asked excitingly. “That means I will be Uncle Steve!” Vicky saw the way in instantly. She knew she had to make amends, jump hurdles, and really try with her brother. He really wants to be an uncle. So, she thought she would involve him. “Too right,” she said. “Who do you think will be babysitting?” She watched his eyes light up at the thought. “You could call him Stephen!” “How do you know it will be a boy? It could be a squally girl!” Vicky laughed at him, as they continued into the house. Stephen walked in. He had not met Vicky’s fiancé yet and went a bit quiet when he saw Harry. He had visions of Kelvin always hitting him, and just stared at Harry to start with, trying to weigh him up, but then Harry held his hand out to shake his. “Hi. We have not met. I am Harry. You must be Stephen. Vicky talks non-stop about you.” Harry shook the boy’s hand. He seemed quite laid back, tall and slim. So unlike Kelvin. Stephen smiled. The voices in his head were telling him to give Harry a chance. He decided he would. “Hello.”

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“Do you like the house?” Harry asked. “It’s quite big, isn’t it? Harry did not want to try too hard, but Vicky had told him that Stephen is not particularly good with people he has not met before, and he wanted to keep the conversation going. Stephen looked around the sitting room/diner, and then nodded in agreement. “You have a dog!” He said surprisingly as he looked out the back window onto the garden. Vicky came in with her mother and overheard her brother mention the dog. “You will love her, Stephen. She is so gorgeous and cuddly.” She went through the kitchen to the back door and shouted for the dog to come in. She did, and immediately jumped up at her new playmate. “She loves you see!” “What sort of dog is she?” Stephen asked, smoothing her down and in return getting licked all over his face. “Golden Retriever,” Harry interrupted. “You like dogs then?” “Yes!” Stephen said joyfully. He knew that you could trust a dog at all times. You could fall out with a dog one minute and it would be forgotten the next. The dog would be a loyal best friend if you treated them right. Katie saw the joy on her son’s face as he continued to be loved by the dog. “Remember our last dog, Vicky?” “Oh yes. You loved her as well, Stephen. German Sheppard.” Vicky joined him in smoothing her dog, but it was more interested in the strangers who had just walked in. “Judy,” Katie said. “Beautiful dog.”

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“What is yours called?” Stephen asked as the dog jumped on top of him, so he fell back from his kneeling position. He laughed as she licked him even more. “That little one is called Freeway,” Harry said as he looked at the pair together and confirmed with himself that he had found a way in to be friends with Vicky’s brother, and that was probably a good thing. “Well come on you two! Show me around!” Katie was desperate to see all of the house, after all Vicky had invited her down to see the house in particular, but Katie knew deep inside that the invite was just smoke and mirrors in order that she could speak to her mum again. Vicky perked up realising that she had not introduced her other half to her mother. “Mum, by the way, this is Harry,” she said with a smile. “Hello,” mum replied just noticing how tall he was. “I think I will get a neck ache looking at you young man. How tall are you?” “Six foot four,” he said, kneeling down to get down to Katie’s four feet nine and a half inches. “There is that better?” “Cheeky devil! I like him Vicky. Seal of approval already!” Katie said as she grabbed his cheeks and smiled at him. “Wow,” Vicky replied. “That’s two out of three. Just Rachel to go now.” “I wouldn’t hold your breath there,” her mother said. “You know she said she never wanted to speak to you again.” She walked behind Vicky up the stairs and stopped at the top. “Don’t worry, I will work on her.

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It would be nice if what’s left of our family showed unity at your wedding.” “Thanks Mum.” Harry meanwhile concentrated on becoming friends with Vicky’s brother. He had an idea, being a keen Argyle fan who went to their games every week when they were playing at Home Park. It was worth asking. “Do you like football, Stephen?” “I used to play rugby at school. I am not really a sporty person. Why?” Harry took his wallet out of his trouser pocket and produced some tickets. “It’s just I have two tickets for Plymouth Argyle on Saturday, and one is spare as my friend has let me down. Just wanted to know if you wanted to come.” He leaned down to whisper in order that Stephen’s mother or sister did not hear the conversation. “Pasty and a pint as well!” Vicky and her mum returned. “What are you two up to?” Vicky asked inquisitively looking at her other half and guessing what he had asked the boy. With a guilty look on his face, Harry said sheepishly, “Oh nothing, nothing. Are we Stephen? Stephen copied her fiancé’s mannerism and said, “No, no. Nothing at all.” “You two are up to something!” Vicky smirked, walking into the bedroom. “Well boys will be boys,” Katie laughed. “And so, will some middle-aged men.” She followed Vicky, whilst Harry raised both his thumbs to the boy. Stephen, meanwhile, was getting excited, but for the wrong reason. He started to like his sister’s fiancé. His penis was telling him so. There was this twenty-six-year-old lad, incredibly good looking, good

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A Dish Best Served Cold physique, and from what Stephen could see, he was well endowed. Yes, Stephen fancied him. Stephen was gay. Through and through. Okay, he slept with Tara, but he loved her in a different way. What could he do about Harry if every time he saw him, he got an erection? Had Vicky told him that her brother was gay? Dare he try it on with him on Saturday? Before or after the match. He knew that the problem was, if it went wrong, he would be embarrassed, but what would Harry do? Would he be violent? Or would he understand and accept the compliment that a gay guy fancied him? Harry put the tickets back in his wallet and returned it to his pocket. He could see Stephen looking at him, so looked back at him and smiled, maintained the eye contact, and then raised his eyebrows. Stephen could not decide if that was an indication to make a move, so he decided to make a fuss of the dog once more which meant that he had to brush past Harry at the side of the sofa. Harry never took his eyes off of him but watched him play with Freeway. Vicky and Katie came out of the Kitchen. Harry smiled. “Just to let you know Stephen is coming to the match with me on Saturday.” “And he said yes?” Katie replied, surprised that her son was going anywhere near a football pitch. He always hated it, and only played rugby because Mr Tynan had asked him to. “You must have made an impression on him.” “I’ll pick him up at one. Unless he meets me down here and then he can have some lunch before we go.”

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“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Vicky added with hope in her voice, knowing she had a lot of time to catch up on with her brother. “We will say come down for twelve then.” “Sounds good to me,” Harry said. “Well he must like you, Harry.” Katie raised her shoulders and made a gesture with both hands. “He never normally says a word to anyone he doesn’t know.”

Saturday soon came around. Stephen was excited at the thought of going to a live football match. He had never been to one before. He had never had anyone that had asked him before. But what was he going to do about Harry? The eye contact that he was getting whilst he was at their house gave Stephen the impression that Harry wanted him to try something on. Or was he reading it wrong? If he did try and seduce the older guy, would it just be a kiss? Walking down to his Sister’s house through the back lanes which lead finally to Plymbridge, although he had to turn off the road sometime before onto a dirt track, his mind was working overtime. He was seeing visions of Harry. That smile. The voices in his head were telling him to try it on. ‘Go on. Kiss him!’ He arrived at the top of the steps. Something was now telling him to go home. He could spoil their relationship. If found out, he would not be Uncle Stephen, but known as the brother who slept with his Sister’s fiancé. But he wanted him so much inside. Harry is beautiful. The voices told him, ‘Go on, get down those steps. Kiss him!’

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Vicky opened the door and gave her brother a hug and Stephen responded in return with the same gesture. “You are taller that I remember,” she said to him. “Yeh, well I am nearly seventeen now.” “Harry is waiting for you inside. He has a present for you.” Vicky was glad the two were getting on. Harry was an only child so never had any brothers or sisters and therefore no nieces or nephews to spoil. Stephen went into try and see where he was, catching him in the sitting room. The tall man smiled at the boy. “Hi mate. Got you a present,” he said holding out a carrier bag. He watched as Stephen opened it and pulled out an Argyle football shirt and a scarf. Overjoyed, because he had never had a football top before, or a scarf come to that, he hugged Harry, who returned the embrace. “Thank you, Harry! I can’t wait to get to the match now!” He wrapped the scarf around his neck. “And there was me just thinking you wanted the beer!” “That as well,” the boy replied. “I heard that,” said the voice from the hallway. Vicky reappeared, and instantly saw an excited brother. “Shall I put the shirt on?” Stephen saw this as a reason to show his body to his potential target. He removed his top and looked at Harry, who smiled. “You have spoilt him I see,” Vicky said happily. She knew that was the kind of guy she was marrying, generous, loving, kind and caring. “I have done lunch, so when you are ready!”

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They ate and then Harry and Stephen raced up to his car and drove away to the football match. Stephen felt that if anything, he had a new friend. Was it wise to try and make a move on what could be a straight guy who just happened to be engaged to his sister? Probably not. But he kept looking at the older man and this was being noticed. Stephen had never seen such a beautiful man, not even in his pornography books. He imagined what Harry would look like naked. He had to watch that he did not get too over-excited again like he did at his sisters the other day. He decided to take his mind off of Harry. “Who are they playing today?” Stephen asked, still as excited at going to a football match as he was about the guy beside him. “Walsall. It is going to be a hard game today.” Harry looked quickly at him, trying not to distract from driving too much. “They are only in the third division, so nothing like Liverpool or Chelsea. But they did play Liverpool in the cup once.” Harry pulled the car into the Home Park car park and switched off the engine. “Come on then, young man,” he said, skurfing the boy’s hair like he had done a few days earlier. “Let’s go get a pint and a pasty!”

The match went very well both for Plymouth Argyle, who won 4-1, and Stephen who was overwhelmed by the atmosphere and spent the match joining in the chants that the ‘Green Army’ were shouting from before the game. He also enjoyed the plastic glass of lager that Harry had let him have under the pretence that ‘if anyone asks, you are 18!’

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“Did you enjoy that?” Harry asked as he was unlocking the car. “That was a good result today for them.” “That was brilliant,” Stephen replied. “I loved it. I loved the singing and the goals.” He got into the car and put his seatbelt on. Harry put the radio on to see what the other football scores were. “Right, I’ve just got to pop down to my parent’s house on the way home. I’ve told Vicky and your mum.” “What have you got to go there for?” the boy asked inquisitively. “They are on holiday and I have to feed the cat and pick up the post. They are also in a high burglary area, so it’s about making sure the place is secure and let people think I am still there.” He turned into Peverell Park Road and pulled into a driveway on the left. “There, not far! My Dad is an avid Argyle fan as well, so he walks to the matches.” He looked at the boy. “Are you coming in?” “Sure. Just let me undo my seatbelt.” Stephen had a feeling, not only in his trousers, but his senses were telling him that Harry might be up for it. It takes two to tango, he thought to himself. As he got inside the door, Harry closed it behind him and the two stared at each other momentarily. Harry made the first move by kissing him on the lips. Then he started trying to remove his Argyle top that he had bought the boy and dumped it on the floor in the hallway. He took his own top off and did the same. Stephen looked at his toned body and they kissed again before Harry led him up the stairs to his old bedroom.

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Thirty minutes later, the two laid on the bed, naked, and Stephen was cuddling into Harry. He felt that he had what he wanted. It had hurt a little, more than it had when he had sex with Mark. But Harry was a lot bigger. “We had better think about getting back in a minute,” Harry perked, cuddling the young lad in close. “That was great,” Stephen said. “I guess you are bisexual then?” “Not until today.” He kissed the boy again. “You mean that is the first time you have had gay sex?” Stephen asked amazingly. “You are good at it. It was like you are the Jedi master!” “Well I did hit you with my light sabre I suppose.”

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Chapter 23

Infidelity is a strange perception of a person’s understanding of commitment. Some will call it cheating, adultery or even betrayal. Two people make promises to be faithful in love, never to look at another man or woman whilst they both assume that each of them are going to abide by the spoken agreement, or even the marriage. Most of all, it opens up a web of emotions for both the adulterer and the innocent partner. Research shows that one in six of married people have had adulterous affairs, whilst one in nine unmarried partners have done the same. So, at what point should two people who are ‘going out’ with each other expect the other to remain faithful? Is it when the two people declare love for each other in the form of engagement? Or at the wedding stage? Or at the start? Some say that faithfulness is a turn on and improves your sex life due to the trust aspect. What happens when someone is betraying their partner with someone of the same sex? Emotions run higher than if it were

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A Dish Best Served Cold with someone of the same sex. The confusion, anger, pain and doubt will be joined by hurt, depression and anxiety caused by the betrayal and the feeling of unworthiness; she is not good enough as a woman which is why her partner has turned to another man, or he is not good enough and she has turned to another woman, whichever the case might be. Some gay relationships last forever, just like heterosexual relationships. When one of the participants is much younger the immaturity of the age can show. When rejected for whatever reason, the younger can cause problems, take revenge for the rejection, and their actions can be over the top. Blackmail so they do not inform the heterosexual partner, reporting of any potential offenses to the Police, damage to property and cars and various other tactics because the harmed party really wants the other person to suffer. To feel what they are feeling. Hurt, pain and anger because most of the time they have been used and feel used for whatever reason if they were expecting more than a one-night stand. If they had infatuations and plans for the sexual encounter to go further. The other person may be wealthy, or good looking, have a flash car or a big house. Both of them are trophies to each other. Another aspect of life.

Stephen was sat at home. It had been four days since he and Harry had an encounter, and he had not heard anything from him since. Surely that cannot be it? But then, he is going out with his sister. But was it once and once only? He hoped not. In fact, he was hoping for a lot more. But would he get what he wanted out of Harry? What did he want? He thought briefly. He knew

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A Dish Best Served Cold what he wanted. Harry to himself. A relationship. It had been really passionate between them. Well, he could always telephone his sisters and ask to speak to Harry if she answered. But that would just seem weird. Unless his sister thought that they were now best friends. Or perhaps he should just go down there. Vicky had said for him to go anytime. The doorbell rang. Stephen opened the door and saw Tara stood outside. “Hi,” he said. “Hello stranger,” Tara replied, knowing she had not seen him since Friday, which was very unusual. Stephen normally had gay tantrums at least three times a week, and she had to listen. But nothing in five days was unusual, she thought. Plus, she was hoping to get it on with him a bit more. Try and make him ‘Straight’ although she had noticed that his voice was becoming quite camp at times. But she was there for a reason. “Well, are you going to invite me in?” “Yes, yes. Come in,” he replied with a frown on his forehead as though he was thinking of something else. “I’m sitting in the front room.” The both of them went in and Stephen went over to the hi-fi and turned the volume down so he could speak to Tara without the distraction of not being able to hear anything she was saying. “So where have you been?” Tara asked, knowing he would probably have some Diva excuse as to why he had not been up to see her. “I was beginning to get worried.” Stephen knew that she wanted him as a boyfriend. He loved her, but in a different way. She was his best friend and he would rather it stayed that way. But he knew she wanted commitment. The promise

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A Dish Best Served Cold that he would not betray her. But he was gay, she would not accept that, and if it happened, it would all end in tears and he would lose her altogether. “Mum took me to see my elder sister Vicky. Her husband invited me to the Argyle match. I do not know. Time has just gone.” She leaned over and grabbed his hand. “Don’t get upset, babes. I have something I have to tell you.” Stephen instantly wished for it to be the news that she had found a boyfriend who did not have baggage like he did. In his head he prayed that this was her news. “Go on,” he replied. “Okay. Dad has bought a business in Tamerton Foliot. It comes with a cottage behind it. We will be moving quite soon.” There was silence and Stephen stared into nothingness. Perhaps it was not quite the news he wanted, but it did mean that he could live his gay lifestyle how he wanted. On the other hand, he was losing his best mate and he remembered how he and Mark had not seen much of each other after leaving school because they lived in different parts of the City. “I don’t know what to say,” he said sadly, his hands clasping nervously. “It doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other,” she said with hope in her voice that he would agree. “Dad will let you sleep over whenever you want.” Stephen grinned. “Yes. But at the moment I can just hop over the back fence.” “You have never hopped over the back fence! You always walk around.” “Well you know what I mean,” he replied, laughing away at his friend. “I would jump over the back fence if I could get my little legs over.”

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“You can get your leg over anytime you want,” she said jokingly, although Stephen knew that she was not joking. “Is something wrong, babes? I know the news is quite a shock for you. It was to me. I only found out last night.” Stephen smiled to reassure her. “No. I’m going to miss you being just up the next block that’s all. Now I will have to call you on the phone if I have a breakdown.” “You are such a diva.” “What and you aren’t?” he said with happy positivity in his voice. “Steve, Steve, come up here, there’s a spider in my room!” He said mocking her voice in the worst impression of her ever. “Oh, oh! There’s a bee in my window!” She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, and he responded, although he saw Harry in his eyes which made it even more passionate that she had previously experienced. “Wow,” she said before going in for round two, clambering on top of him and making him fall back on the sofa. Then Tara stopped, grabbed his hand, and said, “Come on. Let us go upstairs.” “Tara. Wait.” He stood up beside her. He was so confused in his mind. He loved her but in a different way. She was his friend. “I don’t know how to say this.” “Say what?” Tara asked sharing his confusion. “Babes, I know we had sex the other week. But I am gay. I still fancy blokes. I had sex with a guy on Saturday.” He shook his head and could not look at her. “It’s not fair on you. If I were to give you the wrong impression and let you down, it would be wrong.”

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“Who was the lucky fella?” She lifted his head up with her hand under his chin. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.” “It just hurts me so much, babes. I wish I could be in love with you romantically. But I cannot, and this whole you and me thing is doing my head in.” Stephen shook his head and ran his fingers over the top of his head. “What if I were to catch something and give it to you? I would never forgive myself. The way I feel, inside. The real me. I could never remain faithful to you. That would cause hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you.” Tara pulled him into her shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. “You are just such a nice guy, Stephen Bishop. I wish all the guys were like you out there.” She patted his back with her hands. “I’m sorry. I should have understood more. Don’t worry, I understand how you are feeling.” Stephen pulled back and smiled at her as she saw how it was killing him inside because of the tears in his eyes. She wiped them with her thumb and then the cuff of her jumper wrapped over her hand. “You are such a softy. Look at you.” “I know. But I can’t lose the best friend in the world.” The voices were back. He closed his eyes and squinted his eyes as if he had a migraine. “I’m sorry. My head is banging. I’m going to go to bed.” He was having difficulty listening to the voices. They were not clear as there seemed to be a hundred different people shouting at him, just like when he was at the football match on Saturday. Then he heard the main voice, the one that had spoken to him before. The one that claimed to be his brother. ‘She doesn’t really understand. She is going to dump you and move away.

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Forget about you, she will. Forget about you and your friendship.’ “Are you alright?” Tara knew that he had problems with migraine and headaches, and that he seemed like a different person when he had one, so she decided it would be best to leave him alone. “I’ll come back later to check on you.” He nodded, now holding both sides of his head by the temples. “Yeh. I should be okay. I will take some of my migraine tablets. Bye.” He watched her open the door and then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘There, the bitch is gone.’ “Don’t speak about her like that,” Stephen said madly. ‘She will find new friends at her new house. She won’t want a gay boy like you.’ “Get out of my head! Tara is my friend. I love her!” He ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, jumped on his bed face down and put the pillow over the back of his head. It did not muffle the voices. They were in his head. ‘If I were you, I would teach her a lesson. She is moving away from you. Deserting you, her best friend. Go on, teach her a lesson!’ “Fuck off! I am not listening! You are not real!” He buried his head and started crying because of the pain in his head. There was silence. What he did not realise was that Tara was still outside of the front door and had heard some of his shouting. She did not know who he was talking to because no one else was home. It made her more worried about him than she already was.

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Should she tell his mother? That would break his confidence in her. But he sounded ill, talking, and shouting at someone. She had only seen that sort of thing in films. As she walked back up to her house, she thought about her next move. Should she ask him who he was talking to outright?

Thirty minutes had passed. Stephen’s head was still under the pillow, but the pain was forcing him not to be able to sleep. He just needed peace and quiet. His eyes were heavy and felt like he had been kicked in the face, and was going in and out of consciousness, even though he was awake. He suddenly sat up, legs over the edge of the bed. He would go for a walk. Yes, up through Blunt’s Lane. It is nice and peaceful there. Grabbing his keys, he went downstairs and out of the door. Minutes later he was at the bottom of Blunt’s Lane. He could hear the traffic speeding either way on the nearby Forder Valley Hill but knew that he was going in the opposite direction in any case, so that would disappear quite soon. There would be nothing but bird sounds in the lane. He may even get the chance to see some dogs when he passes the kennels which were about halfway between each end of the lane. He stopped and looked at the steep lane in front of him, uneven as the narrow road had not been resurfaced in decades. There was little need as it was not used very much, only by boy racers trying to prove themselves to their female companions as they raced through at high speeds, usually in the evenings. He took a deep breath and started walking up the hill until he could no longer see the houses to his right. That is

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A Dish Best Served Cold when he knew that he was nearly at the top of the first incline. The road was like a rollercoaster ride, up and down, he thought to himself. As long as it did not loop the loop, he smiled at the thought. He met the entrance from Keswick Crescent, a long lane that met Blunt’s Lane and he thought that he could have walked over to join Blunt’s lane there which would have saved him the first incline. But then he would not have completed all of the lane, so he was glad that he did not. It would have been cheating, he supposed. The good thing was that the exercise seemed to be having an effect on his migraine because it was easing. Less pressure. His eyes did not feel like they wanted to close anymore, so he walked on at an increased pace trying to get the blood pumping around his body. An elderly couple were coming the other way, their dog, a Yorkshire Terrier, ran up to Stephen and jumped up putting the front paws on his leg. Stephen smiled and knelt down to smooth the dog and cuddle him. “He will let you do that all day,” the old lady said joyfully. “He loves cuddles!” “He is lovely,” Stephen said as the dog started licking his face. “Man’s best friend.” “They certainly are. They don’t answer back or give you earache like the wife,” the old man joked as the wife gave him a slap. “Watch it you,” She said. “You won’t get any dinner for a week!” She looked at the boy. “Have you got a dog?”

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He shook his head. “No. My sister has. I am going to take her out a few times for long walks down to Plymbridge. She is a Golden Retriever.” “Beautiful dogs, and Plymbridge is a paradise for dogs,” the lady said. “I might take him down and lose him in the woods,” she said, pointing to her husband. “Just me and the dog then.” She laughed, and Stephen joined her. “Here I thought you were on my side!” The old man joked. “Well you two have a good day. I’m off on a walk to try and get rid of my headache!” “Oh dear, nasty. Make sure you take some pain killers for it,” the old lady said in a mummying style. “I will,” the boy replied as he started continuing his journey. “Nice to meet you. Bye! Bye doggie!” He waved at the dog, who looked back at him and then walked on following his owners. Stephen continued along the lane, going down this time, at the bottom jumping over some water that was draining down from the higher point on one side to the lower on the other and covering most of the path. He knew that the Council had tried so many times to fix the problem and had never succeeded. Suddenly he heard voices of a different kind, real human ones, coming from the blind corner in front of him which was hidden by a mass of trees and bushes. Three youths, mouthy and laughing came down the hill. They appeared slightly older than him, so he chose to ignore them. He heard them whispering to each other as they passed him, so looked back just to check if he could hear them anymore.

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Suddenly there was an arm around his neck, choking him slightly, and a second youth punched him in the stomach. “Money. We want money!” Stephen was choking as the grip became tighter. Then the third youth kicked him in the groin, but he was not allowed to double over with the pain as anyone else would have done. “He said, we want money,” the youth who was choking him said, again tightening the grip and wrenching his head from side to side, as one of the others delivered a punch to his jaw knocking him out, and his body was let loose to fall to the floor. They ruffled through his pockets and found nothing. They took his watch and ran off laughing.

It was approaching 8pm and Katie had returned home but had not seen sight nor sign of Stephen. Usually he left a note to tell her where he was if he was going to be late, but there was nothing. He was not in his room, but she had noticed that he had taken his migraine medication. Perhaps he was up at Tara’s house. Or down seeing his sister Vicky. She rang Vicky who had not seen him. Tara said she would come down as she needed to talk to Katie about her son and something that had happened that afternoon. Tara banged on the door. “Have you heard from him, Mrs Bishop?” She said welcoming herself inside as the door opened. “No, not at all,” Katie replied. “What was it you wanted to tell me?” “I saw him this afternoon, and he had a mega migraine so said he was going to bed, so I left him alone. But I was stood outside the door for a while, and

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I overheard him shouting at someone.” Tara was now worried. Where had he gone? Normally he would just come to her. Something was wrong. “I think I had better phone the Police. Although they probably will not do anything for 24 hours, unless I say he is vulnerable.” She picked up the receiver but paused rethinking her own thoughts. “I don’t know where he would go.” Tara paced up and down the hallway with her hand on her forehead, staring at the floor as she tried to think of where he would go. Katie was deep in thought. “He’s not down his sisters. I’ve telephoned her already.” “What about the cemetery? To see his brother?” Tara knew that he liked going up there to speak to his brother, but she also knew he had issues, the last time that he went. Katie looked at her watch. “The cemetery is closed. It closes at 6pm. Unless he is still in there. Been locked in.” She thought about what she had just said and panicked. “God, what if he is in there all alone?” “I’m sure he would find a way out. He can climb walls. But he did tell me that he was never going there alone again. Let me have a look at his room.” Tara went upstairs and into Stephen’s bedroom, looking around. His wallet was still on top of his record player, so she shouted down, “He couldn’t have gone far because he has left his wallet and money behind.” Katie became frantic downstairs, not knowing what to do. She wanted to do the right thing, but what was the right thing? She could go out and search for him, but he could be anywhere. Should she ring the Police? Even if they just gave her advice, but they

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A Dish Best Served Cold tended to make you feel like you were wasting their time unless they were guaranteed an arrest out of attending. They would also say that sixteen-year olds had a habit of going missing and they would turn up days later having been around a friend’s house and not realising that they were missed. But she knew that Stephen would not do this because he preferred the security of his room and he didn’t have many friends.

It had now been 5 hours since the attack. Stephen was coming to, lying on the ground in the damp from the water crossing the single lane. He opened his eyes and realised that every move he was going to make was going to hurt. His face, His arms, his legs even his torso. He groaned loudly, hoping to attract some attention but there was no one around. In a way he thought of the old couple who had passed him a few minutes before the attack on him. They could have been attacked if Stephen was not the victim. He felt his head with his hand. He was bleeding somewhere on his head. His hands were grazed. His trousers ripped and through the holes he could see that his legs were badly bruised and grazed. Most of all his stomach hurt. He laid there for a while just gaining his breath and his strength to move. Firstly, he rested up on one elbow, his head moving around slowly to try and see if there was anyone that could help. No one. He thought of why there was no one around. That is the reason why he came to Blunt’s Lane in the first place, because it was peaceful, and only a handful of people used it every day. The night sky was gradually coming in over him, and the large trees made it seem darker than it was as

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A Dish Best Served Cold they towered over the lane, intertwining in the middle with only rays of light breaking through the leaves and branches. He had to get home. Nobody would find him down here probably until tomorrow. If he stayed here, he would freeze because he was already cold and wet from the water on the road. ‘What time is it?’ he asked himself, looking for his watch. He looked around thinking it could have fallen off his arm during the struggle. Then he realised, they had taken it. It was the only thing he had. It was one of few things that he had to remind him of his brother, because the watch actually belonged to David. It was the watch he was wearing on the day that he was knocked off his bicycle. He shook his head. “Fucking Bastards.” The watch became his motivation. He had to get it back somehow. His body started to try and find the little bit of extra energy from within to get him to his feet. He pushed upwards, thankful that his legs did not appear to be broken because he could move them. They were just very painful. He reached out towards the farmers gate beside him to help him steady on his feet. Most of the pain was in his stomach from where he had both been punched and kicked during the attack. Then he took the first step and stopped. Then the second step, letting go of his hold on the gate. He was nearly standing upright, only curled down slightly because of the bruising to his stomach. Third and fourth steps. Then he continued, adamant that he was going to get home. As he reached the top of the incline, he turned up towards Keswick Crescent through the pathway he had seen earlier, slowly limping through until he came

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A Dish Best Served Cold out of the darkened lane beside the bus stop. There were two people at the bus stop who looked like a couple. “Help …. Me …. Please,” the boy said as he crashed to the ground. The woman screamed. “Oh my God, is he alright,” she shouted as her husband ran over to him. He looked at the boy’s injuries. “Diane, run up to the phone box and call an ambulance,” he ordered. “Now!” He watched as she did as he asked, and then turned his attention back to Stephen. “Hello, can you hear me?” Stephen’s eyes were barely open, and he was only semi-conscious. He could see the man in silhouette but could not focus. “My name is Bryan. I am going to help you. Okay?” No reply. The boy was out for the count once again, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Bryan checked to see if he was breathing, and then checked his pulse on the wrist of his left arm. He could also see his wife finishing the call, opened the phone box door and ran back towards them. Bryan took his coat off and covered the boy because he could feel that his temperature was low, and the boy was cold. Dianne knelt down on the other side of Stephen’s body. “The ambulance is on its way, and so are the Police.” “Good. Looks like he has taken quite a beating.” It was not long before the darkness that had descended quite rapidly was filled with flashing lights from both the ambulance and the Police car which both screeched to a halt as Dianne flagged them down.

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Two hours later, Katie called the Police. It was now gone past 10pm and she had not heard a thing from her son, and that was very unusual. Tara had stayed with her because at times she was quite frantic with worry. She told the operator that Stephen had mental health issues, which he did, in a way anyway. They had agreed to come around and investigate. Katie was glad that they had agreed and seemed like they were going to take his disappearance as seriously as she was. It was not long before the two officers were stood outside the door, and before they could ring the bell, a worried mother opened the door. “Mrs Bishop? PC Hunter and WPC Hemmingway. We are here about your son.” “Come in,” the lady replied thankful that they were here at last. “Your son. Stephen, wasn’t it?” PC Hunter asked whilst his female colleague was taking notes in her book. “That’s right. It is not like him. He has been gone since this afternoon when his girlfriend saw him.” Katie just did not know how to describe Tara’s relationship with her son but hoped that Tara did not find the use of the word ‘Girlfriend’ offensive. “What time was that, miss….” PC Hunter looked at the girl and paused to get a name. “Tara Cooke,” she replied. “It was between three and four. He said he had a migraine and was going to bed.” Suddenly the WPC’s radio burst into life, and she stepped outside to take the message in order not to disturb her colleagues questioning.

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PC Hunter looked around at the photos on show. “Do you have an up to date picture of Stephen that we could have?” “Yes of course,” Katie replied, knowing that pictures of her son were very few and far between because he never liked having his picture taken and never had done ever since he was a small child. He saw them as intrusive on his life because a photo never shows the truth. He always said that you see what you want to see in a photograph and not what is really there. You cannot tell what pain or suffering a person is in. “There we go,” she said. “Do you know what he was last wearing?” The PC asked. “Tara, do you know? I was at work before he got out of bed.” Tara was thinking, like the cogs were going around and around in her brain. “He was wearing his favourite red sweater, black jeans and his trainers when I last saw him. WPC Hemmingway re-entered the house and whispered something into her colleague’s ear. PC Hunter looked at her and then back at the Katie and Tara in turn. “We may have some news, but we have to check it out. There was a young lad matching Stephen’s description found not far from here. Looks like he was the victim of an assault. He is up at the new Derriford Hospital.” “I’m just waiting for confirmation of what he was wearing when he was admitted,” WPC Hemmingway added as her radio burst into life once more. “445 from Sierra Oscar.” “Go ahead Sierra Oscar,” the WPC replied.

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“The information that you requested. The boy was wearing a red jumper, black jeans and white trainers.” WPC Hemmingway looked at PC Hunter, who nodded. “Unfortunately, the boy is unidentified at the moment as there was no ID and he is still unconscious,” the radio operator added. “Yes,” replied the female Officer. “We are just taking a report of someone who matches the boy. We are taking the family up to Derriford now to see if they can identify him.” Katie grabbed her coat and was stood at the door before the Officers could ask. Tara looked at Stephen’s mum. “I’m coming too.” PC Hunter vacated the house quickly followed by the WPC, and Tara closed the door securely, stopping first to ask the lady if she had her keys, although she knew that Katie nearly always kept her keys in her coat pocket, but Katie checked just in case, and held them up for Tara to see.

Ten minutes later, Katie and Tara were stood looking at her boy from behind the glass window of the room. “That’s Stephen,” his mother said to the Officers.

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Chapter 24

Grief is really just love. It is all the love that you want to give to someone, but whatever the reason, you cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat and in that hollow part in your chest. Therefore, grief is just love with no place to go. The answer lies in how you handle that grief, because it is in itself an important emotion. You may miss a close member of the family, wife, husband, son, or daughter. How you handle the grief for close members of your family would probably be different to how you would for a work colleague because people handle grief differently. Some can just throw it aside and get on with their lives whereas others suffer anxiety and depression for a wide range of reasons caused by anger and frustration, despair, and shock. The process of grief has no timetable. The person grieving may have this hidden feeling suppressed within, that just suddenly comes to light in the mind, and it could be decades later whereby that

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A Dish Best Served Cold person has always been grieving but not showing their emotions. It is part of life and no one can escape it. The emotion of revenge can feature in the process of grief. There have been many occasions all over the world whereby the depression which has become apparent due to the grief has caused the relative of the deceased not to think straight and take revenge in some way. It may be just vandalising their car. It could be death. The level that the person grieving takes the revenge depends entirely on their mental state. Now many lawyers have argued that perpetrators who have been experiencing grief can be deemed as mentally insane at the time of the crime and pushed to get their clients charges dropped or reduced to the lesser crime, such as murder to manslaughter, life to five years. Some University Professors have studied revenge and concluded that retribution comes before gratitude in children. So is revenge in us from a young age, do our minds insist on the removal of anger and frustration in this violent way, whereas saying ‘Thank You’ has to be taught? Is this what makes the human race so violent?

Stephen had been in the Intensive Care Unit at Derriford Hospital for several days in an induced coma because of the head injury. He was then moved to a ward but had a room of his own as Katie had told the nurses that he did not like crowds. What she really wanted to say was that he just did not like people around him. On top of all his injuries, his memory seemed to be a major issue which, the consultant told him, was sometimes concurrent with head injuries. The

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Police had tried to interview him about the incident, but he just could not remember. He did not even know that he was in Blunt’s Lane when it happened. The Consultant, Dr Leverty, had visited his bedside throughout his stay and was glad to see him conscious at last as he approached his bed. “How are you, young man?” Stephen did not register that the Doctor was there, so Dr Leverty picked up the notes on the clipboard at the end of his bed. “You were in a pretty bad way when you came in. Do you know what injuries you had?” The voices in his head had taken control of his thoughts and his mind. They controlled who he did or did not recognise, what he did or did not know. ‘Don’t talk to him. He will say you are mad.’ “Fractured skull that we had to pin in several places. Broken left arm in several places, broken right wrist, several broken ribs, internal bleeding, bruises all over, bruised abdomen.” The Doctor looked at his patient. “I could go on, but it doesn’t look like you are hearing me very much.” ‘Tell him to fuck off out of your room.’ But Stephen was still feeling the effects of all the injuries and the sedation that he had been given, and he just felt dazed and tired. He did not have the energy to speak to the Doctor, and he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Dr Leverty watched his eyes close and signed the sheet to say he had visited. He knew that the boy was not going anywhere soon, although he knew that Stephen did not really want to be here in hospital, but it was the best place for him at the moment. But he also thought that recovery could be done at home once he recovers that little bit more and

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A Dish Best Served Cold because he would be in more familiar surroundings, this often helps the process that little bit faster. Time would tell. The Doctor went to leave the room when suddenly he was joined by the staff nurse who had been caring for the boy on a daily basis since he came in. “Oh, I’m glad I caught you Dr Leverty.” “Hello Nurse Hadley. How can I help you?” He watched the nurse look over his shoulder towards Stephen, mainly to check that he could not overhear what was being said. “A couple of the staff have mentioned that this patient has been talking in his sleep,” the nurse said concerningly. The Doctor frowned at her. “Well there is nothing abnormal about that. The trauma he has experienced probably doesn’t help his brain patterns.” “It’s the things he shouts out, Doctor. Something about an explosion and killing one of his teachers. It actually seems quite real. But the staff have also said that he speaks in different voices at times.” “Different voices?” The Doctor asked confusingly. “Yes. I have not heard them myself. But one is his own voice, and the other is a man’s voice. The man’s voice is quite distressing, shouting out obscenities.” The Doctor tapped his pen on his lips, thinking about the situation. Perhaps I should refer the matter to the psychiatrist, he thought to himself. Or it could again just be something to do with the trauma of the attack. “I’ll tell you what we will do. We need to get a

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A Dish Best Served Cold recording of his crying out in this way. Can you arrange with facilities on my authority to get this done?” “Yes, Doctor,” Nurse Hadley replied, happy with the decision. She knew that Dr Leverty could be quite awkward at times, especially if he thought that you were wrong, and he was right. “If the recording catches anything, I will ask a consultant from psychiatry to come down and listen.” ‘No one cares about them. Burn mother fuckers.’ The Doctor and the nurse froze. The older man’s voice came from the boy who appeared to be sleeping on his hospital bed. The Doctor walked over to check Stephen, lifting his eyelids to check that he was actually asleep. He was. Then the Doctor checked his pulse. It was quite low for a 16-year-old who did not participate in sports. “58. Resting pulse of 58. Unusual.” “Doctor,” Nurse Hadley said with horror in both her face and her voice. “You heard that? I heard that. That wasn’t his voice.” “No, it wasn’t. Plus, he is under sedation and is fast asleep.” Doctor Leverty was confused. He was not a psychiatrist but a neurologist. “I think we had better get Dr Young down immediately. I think he is on duty in Glenbourne today. Can you give him a …”? He was interrupted. ‘Got him right across the throat!’ Nurse Hadley backed out of the room. “I’ll phone him now.” “Who did you get across the throat, Stephen?” Asked Dr Leverty inquisitively. There was no reply from his patient. He was still calm and sleeping. His heart

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A Dish Best Served Cold rate had not flurried in any way. “Stephen, can you hear me? This is Dr Leverty.” No reply once more. There was not a move from the sleeping boy apart from his chest moving due to his breathing. The voice was coming from him, but his lips remained completely still. Dr Leverty had not seen anything like this in his life. He had heard of people claiming to hear voices in their head, but never speaking them. Religious people used to claim to be speaking in what they deemed ‘tongues’ which was a different language to their own. The other problem was, did he have a duty to call the Police because of what Stephen was saying? He did not know the answer to that one. ‘You know too much!’ Dr Leverty froze, just as Nurse Hadley had done minutes before. What did the boy mean by this latest outburst? Who knew too much? This was just getting stranger by the minute, he thought. He really needed help on this one. Nurse Hadley came back into the room. “Dr Young is currently with a patient. He will be down as soon as he finishes within the hour.” “Have you ever experienced anything like this Nurse Hadley?” He looked as she shook her head. “He said ‘You know too much’ moments ago, whatever that means.” “I can’t believe the voice. It’s not his.” She had a look of worry on her face. Deep inside she knew that she was frightened because this was like something out of a horror film. If she went home and told her husband about this, he would call the little men in white coats and say she was going loopy.

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“Some people with head traumas have been known to take on a different personality, but never a change in voice.” Dr Leverty continued to check the boy over. He took his temperature. “He appears totally fine.” ‘He’s going to get what’s coming to him.’ The Doctor leaned closer to the boy. “Stephen. Can you hear me? Who is going to get what’s coming to him?” Nothing, not even a reply. The boy was out for the count. “I really can’t explain it. I am lost for words. I’m not sure whether to call the psychiatrist or an exorcist!” “How do we explain this to his family?” “We don’t for the moment,” Dr Leverty replied, looking at the Nurse seriously. “Unless we have to of course.” He looked back at his patient, calmly snoring in the hospital bed. “We need to make sure of what it is first. It may just be a brain trauma, or it could be something far worse. No need to worry the family with more issues than what they already have.” Another nurse opened the door. “Barbara, Dr Young has just called. He is on his way now.” Nurse Hadley looked at her fellow nurse. “Thank you, Denise.” “No problem,” she replied, closing the door behind her. “Right Nurse Hadley. I have a couple of other patients to see on this ward. If you could let me know when Dr Young arrives,” Dr Leverty said as he went to exit out of the room. He stopped and paused. “We will also need to restrict visiting for a while. Just tell them to wait if they want to in the day room.”

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“Of course. He shouldn’t be long.” She followed the Doctor, telling herself that there was no way that she was being in that room alone with that boy. He had spooked her. In all her years of nursing she had seen some things but never like this.

Harry and Vicky had picked Katie up and were on their way up to the hospital. She liked the car because if was much smoother than her old jalopy and even had leather seats. “How is he doing, Mrs K?” Harry asked. “I’ve told you before, It’s Katie or Mum! Mrs K makes me sound old!” She laughed to ensure him that she was only kidding. “Vicky told me you were old,” he laughed in reply. “Sorry you did say call you Katie or Gran, didn’t you?” “Cheeky bugger! I’ll put you across my knee and smack your arse in a minute if you are not careful!” Vicky smiled and giggled. “I wouldn’t, Mum. He might enjoy it. A bit too much!” “Are you trying to say I am a tart, darling?” Harry asked Vicky. “What are you saying? You will give me a bad name!” The three of them all showed their joviality as Harry pulled into a parking space. “He’s doing okay,” Katie said. “Although they did a real good job on him whoever is responsible.” “Have the Police got anyone yet?” Vicky asked, looking at her mother in the back seat. “No not yet. He was in an induced coma in ICU. But now he is out and on a normal ward. He has only just started coming to.” Katie got out of the car as it was turned off and stretched her legs after being in the back

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A Dish Best Served Cold seat. She watched as Vicky and Harry both got out and Harry locked the car. “He’s now on Burrator Ward, level 8.” Minutes later they were in the ward going past the reception desk. “Mrs Bishop? I’m glad I caught you,” Nurse Hadley exclaimed, knowing she had to pass on the instruction from Dr Leverty. “The Consultant is in with a colleague at the moment just doing some more investigations on your son. Could I ask you to wait in the day room?” “What investigations?” Katie asked, inquisitively worried as a frown appeared on her forehead. “Is he alright?” Nurse Hadley knew that she could not say anything about what they had experienced earlier. “I will let you know when the Consultant has finished and I’m sure he will be happy to explain. “Well is it serious?” Vicky asked, wondering what was going on with her brother. “You say he is in with the consultant and a colleague?” Katie added. “Yes, that’s right,” Nurse Hadley replied. “Dr Leverty and Dr Young. They are just checking a few things. I’m afraid at the moment I can’t give you any more details.” “Katie, why don’t we go to the café and get a coffee and then perhaps they will be finished.” Insisted Harry, looking at his fiancé for support. “Might even treat you to a bun.” “Good idea, Mum. We don’t want to be sat in the day room.” Vicky grabbed her mother’s hand and edged her away, knowing that there was probably something wrong if two Doctors were involved. She

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A Dish Best Served Cold had seen it when she was a young girl and David was in hospital. She just remembered that he never recovered. She also knew that even though her and Stephen had not had the best of relationships when they were younger, she wanted to do her best in mending any bad feelings, and she needed him alive to do that.

Meanwhile, Dr Leverty was in with Dr Young, who was checking all his responses and reflexes. He appeared quite normal apart from the colour of his Iris’ in his eyes which both seemed to be jet black. “This is strange,” Dr Young stated. “Come and take a look.” He lifted the boy’s eyelids for his colleague to see. “They are black. They weren’t like that earlier when I checked him over.” Dr Young shook his head. “And you say he has been speaking in his sleep?” “The voice has come from him, but his lips haven’t moved one inch.” He stepped back to let the psychiatrist back closer to the patient. “He has had an MRI and that was clear apart from the bruising caused by the kicks to the head.” “Perhaps we should do an overnight EEG and measure his brain wave patterns. We could look to see if there is any change if and when the voice occurs.” “It was happening every minute or so when you were on your way down from Glenbourne. Nurse Hadley heard it as well.” Dr Leverty was getting the feeling that Dr Young was doubtful about what he had witnessed. Dr Young bit his lip whilst looking at the boy. “I don’t want to go down the road of diagnosing demonic

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A Dish Best Served Cold possession or anything. I know little of it. I mean the discussions we had at Medical School. If the behaviour is a deviation from the person’s normal behaviour such as a high amount of aggressiveness from a docile person, hysterical laughter, talking gibberish, then we would have to look at it.” He reached over once more and lifted the boy’s eyelids again. “God, look!” Dr Leverty returned to look at Stephen’s eyes. “They are back to normal.” “As blue a summer sky,” Dr Young exclaimed. “At the moment I think we should administer him Promethazine hydrochloride which will relax him and stop him from possibly causing harm to himself.” “Okay,” Dr Leverty agreed. “So, do you think that this psychosis is caused by the trauma of the assault, essentially to the head?” “Possibly,” Dr Young replied. “I would like another MRI done ASAP to see if there is any change since he had the last one. Tumours have been known to appear after the event and can cause serious psychosis.” Dr Leverty picked up the chart at the end of Stephen’s bed and started scribbling on the notes. “Well his mother has informed me that the boy has had one hell of a life so far. It could be stress related.” “Quite possibly. Perhaps when he is better some family therapy could help. I wish I could hear this voice.” He leaned over the boy closely and looked at his face, touched his scalp and felt around his neck. “His glands are swollen. That would affect his voice. But you said the lips didn’t move.”

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“We will get the tests done, and complete an overnight EEG as requested. I have put the additional medication on his chart.” “Right then,” Dr Young said, slapping his colleague’s upper arm. “I will wait to hear from you when they are done and come back to see you.” “Thanks for your time.” “No problem,” Dr Young said heading towards the door. ‘Goodbye fuckwit!’ “There! There! Did who hear it?” Dr Leverty was sounding like an exited child just about to open his Christmas presents. He had the proof that he was not himself the one in need of a psychiatrist. “That’s a male adult voice,” he replied. “How the hell?” He walked back over to the boy and leaned over him. “Stephen? Stephen? This is Dr Young. Can you hear me?” Nothing. The boy was out cold. “Stephen? Who were you talking to? Who is the fuckwit? Speak to me Stephen.” There was not any movement in any part of his body. “Do you believe me now?” Dr Leverty asked worryingly. “What are we going to do? Most of all, how do I tell his family about this?” “Your decision, but I would say nothing at the moment. Get the tests done, give him that medication and let us see if there is any reoccurrence.” “Okay. I think that will save any questions about the supernatural that we know we cannot answer.” Dr Leverty watched his colleague leave and then also left to go to the ward reception desk, which at that moment was unattended, but this did not last awfully long as Nurse Hadley returned from seeing a patient.

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“Everything okay with that patient, Dr Leverty?” She looked eye to eye with him as there was not an immediate reply, just a shake of the head and a raising of the eyebrows as though the Doctor was out of ideas on this one. “Not really. Dr Young is unsure just as I am. Can you book him in for an urgent MRI scan and overnight EEG?” “Of course,” the Nurse replied looking at her list of department extension codes in order she could arrange what the Doctor had requested. “Stephen’s family are here to see him. They have gone for refreshments whilst you were seeing the boy.” Dr Leverty looked at her again with a serious tone. “We are not mentioning anything to them at this moment.” “What if they ask?” “We were just taking a look at the possibilities of any further complications that may arise,” Dr Leverty said strongly. “Dr Young has requested the results of the scans before we make any further diagnosis.” He shuffled some papers looking for some authorisation forms in order he could authorise the MRI scan for the boy. “I’ve got a few more patients to see, but when his family arrive, let me know.”

Ten Minutes later, Katie, Vicky and Harry arrived back to the ward, with Katie taking control and telling the other two that they should have had enough time by now. She wanted to see her son and see how he was today, was he improving, was he conscious? Why were they performing more tests on him? “Hello Nurse. We are back!”

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Nurse Hadley unsurprisingly smiled as she was expecting them back at any time. “The Doctors have finished with your son, Mrs Bishop, so you can go in and see him.” “Do they know what is wrong?” She continued. “I will get Dr Leverty for you and he will see you in with Stephen.” Katie looked at her, knowing that there was something that she was not being told. She was not daft, she was a nurse as well, and knew the routine where one consultant was quite usual on his rounds, but two from different departments usually meant that there was a concern. “Okay, we will wait in Stephen’s room then.” Harry and Vicky followed her and as soon as they got into the room, Vicky went over to her brother’s bedside, worrying about all the machinery that was around him. She had seen a similar situation with her other brother and did not like it at all. Harry joined her. “Hey mate,” he said. “How are you doing? You had better get well soon. All those Argyle matches we have to go to.” “Hi Stephen. It is your number one sister here. Come on we need you to get better. You have to be at my wedding. Plus remember your nephew will need you when he is born. Big Uncle Stephen will have to take him down the park.” Vicky picked up his hand and held it to her face. Katie was patiently waiting for the Consultant to arrive and decided to let her daughter share some quality time with her brother because Vicky had not seen him yet whilst he was in hospital, whereas she had seen him every day. She decided to inject some

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A Dish Best Served Cold humour into the situation. “Wakey-wakey son. Your bedroom needs tidying!” “It’s okay, Stephen. I will go down and tidy it for you!” Vicky replied in a joking manner. “Well I will get Harry to do it!” “You do not want to see his bedroom!” Katie replied, still keeping her eyes open for the Consultant. “He only ever tidies it when Tara is coming around.” “Looks like you took a bit of a beating, mate,” Harry said to his lover as he leaned over and brushed his hair with his hand. “You know you are stronger than this. You can get through this.” He looked, deep in thought. Vicky saw his face and was worried that it was upsetting her fiancé. “What’s wrong babes?” She asked curiously as her face filled with concern for the both of them now. Harry appeared deep in trance mode, like the cogs were going around and around in his head. He smiled. “I have an idea. I will not be long. Just going down to make a telephone call,” he said, rushing over towards the door and disappearing without any further information on what his idea was. Just as the door was shutting, Dr Leverty looked at Harry who was rushing out of the room and replaced him inside the room. “Hello Mrs Bishop,” he said, holding his hand out to shake after remembering that he had met her before. “Dr Leverty. This is my daughter Vicky.” She watched as he needed towards her realising that he could not shake her hand as she was holding the patient. “What’s the news, Doctor?” “I called Dr Young down from Psychiatry, just for some further advice.” Dr Leverty thought that he had

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A Dish Best Served Cold also try to put the patient’s mother at some ease. “It’s nothing to be immensely worried about. We are going to do another MRI scan and what’s called an EEG, whereby we measure his brainwave patterns.” “Has he got a brain injury then?” Katie asked worryingly thinking of her last son and all the trauma that he went thought. “The last MRI picked up nothing, but we want to make sure before he gets well enough to go home.” Dr Leverty moved to the opposite side of the bed to which Vicky was on and looked down at the boy. “So why have you come to that conclusion all of a sudden, Doctor?” Katie asked, still suspicious about the reasons. “Stephen has been talking in his sleep.” “Well he always does that,” Katie added, not at all surprised by the comment from the medical professional. “We just want to make sure he is ok before we can discharge him. The things he has been saying and during sedation can indicate that the trauma of the head injury might cause psychosis in its victim.” Dr Leverty was hoping that the boy did not repeat his performance of calling out in a different voice, otherwise he would have to explain that. Katie understood what the Doctor was saying. “I know what problems head trauma can cause. I just hope the Police get the people responsible.” “Yes. When they participate in these assaults on people, they just don’t realise what problems they cause by kicking someone in the head.” Dr Leverty started writing on Stephen’s notes again

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A Dish Best Served Cold acknowledging his visit with Stephen’s relatives. “Right, any other questions?” “No,” Katie said, happier now that she had spoken to him. “Thanks for explaining that.” “No worries, Mrs Bishop. Hopefully, the tests will be clear, and we can go forward tomorrow.” He left the room. ‘Fucking dickhead.’ Katie and Vicky both looked around, wondering where the strange voice had come from, but there was no one else in the room. Vicky looked down at Stephen. His eyes opened, but black. She screamed. Katie rushed over to console her, not knowing about the blackened eyes that the two Doctor’s and now Vicky had experienced. “Look. Look at his eyes,” Vicky sobbed. “Is he dead?” Katie looked at the machine and then thought she would take his pulse the old-fashioned way by putting her fingers on the wrist. His heart was beating quite normally. She rested her hand on his forehead. He was not burning up or anything. “No Vicky, he is perfectly alive. This must be something to do with the brain trauma that Dr Leverty was talking about.” “Mum, that wasn’t Stephen calling out. It was a man’s voice. Not Stephens.” “The Doctor did say that he was talking in his sleep. He has always talked in his sleep.” Katie stared into her son’s eyes wondering if he were blind or could see things perfectly. Perhaps the sedation was making him this way. “Vicky, press the red button there behind you. We will get the Doctor back.” Vicky did as her mother instructed, and the system started to make a low humming noise. Seconds

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A Dish Best Served Cold later, Nurse Hadley came into the room with some urgency. “What is wrong?” she asked, running over to silence the alarm. “His eyes,” Vicky said worryingly. “Look at them!” She watched the nurse lean over and check her brother. “It is like he is awake,” Katie added with importance. “He also spoke in his sleep, but it was a man’s voice, not his own.” Nurse Hadley did not acknowledge Stephen’s mother, which made Katie even more suspicious that she knew something was wrong than she was letting on. There was something that they were not telling her. “I will get Dr Leverty back.” “Hold on,” Katie said, stopping the nurse in her tracks and grabbing her arm to prevent her going any further. “Did you know about the voice? You did, didn’t you? Why weren’t we told?” “Dr Leverty will explain,” she said, breaking free from the angry parent and stepping around her. “I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything.” Katie stepped aside to let her continue her journey. Then she screamed out, “Why is no one telling me anything? God.” Vicky moved over towards her mother and put her arm around her. “Calm down, mum. It is ok. The Doctor will be back in a minute.” They hugged each other for a while before the door opened, then they quickly separated expecting Dr Leverty. It was not. It was Harry, back from making his telephone call. He saw the distress on both Vicky and

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Mum’s faces. “What’s up ladies?” he asked, now worrying about the situation. “Take a look at his eyes,” Vicky said, nodding over towards her brother. Harry paused, then moved over towards the boy. “Why? What’s wrong with them?” He looked down at Stephen. “They look perfectly normal to me.” “They are black,” Vicky snapped. “Look!” “No, they’re not,” Harry replied, checking the colour once more. “They are a gorgeous blue. As blue as the summer sky.” Vicky joined her other half and looked down. “There,” Harry said. Stephen flickered his eyelids and started coming around. Vicky noticed it first. “Mum, he is waking up!” She turned back to her brother and held his hand once more. “Hello stranger.” The boy had a dry throat and therefore found it hard to speak. He started pulling at the mask which was over his nose and mouth. Vicky leaned over and helped him loosen it. “There, is that better?” Stephen nodded slowly. He was not quite ‘in the land of the living’ as his mother would put it when she was waiting for him to get out of bed most mornings. Katie had always used that terminology even when her eldest son David was the one in bed although Stephen was that little bit easier to wake as David used to groan and pull the covers back over his head several times before he would honour them with his presence for breakfast. Dr Leverty arrived. “I’m sorry for the delay. Hectic today. I believe there is a problem.” He looked at the teenager in the bed. “He is alert. That is a good

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A Dish Best Served Cold sign,” he said moving over towards Stephen as Vicky moved out of the way. “How are you feeling, Stephen?” The boy tried to reply but could only croak. But he managed to say, “Dreams,” before he realised that he was going to struggle telling anyone what was wrong. “You have been having dreams?” Dr Leverty asked, as the boy managed a little nod.” “Doctor, have you got something to tell us about Stephen talking in his sleep in a different voice?” Katie asked with a serious look on her face. “Trauma to the brain sometimes causes strange things to happen. I did not tell you because Dr Young and I were waiting for the results of the tests tomorrow before we made a diagnosis. We did not want to give you wrong information. Dr Young thinks it could be psychosis, but we want to make sure.” He looked at Katie and then over at Vicky and Harry. “Both Dr Young and I decided it would be in your best interest as we don’t know at this moment in time. So, If I told you something now, it could be useless information that has no bearing on the situation.” Katie understood completely and decided to put the matter to bed. She would wait until he had the information he was looking for from the tests.

The next afternoon, Katie was beside Stephen’s bedside as soon as visiting started and had brought Tara with her to cheer him up. There was a delivery which the nurses brought in for him. Harry had contacted one of his friends at Plymouth Argyle and arranged for the players to all sign a top for him, and

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A Dish Best Served Cold they sent it with a card also signed with a get well soon message. Stephen guessed who had arranged it. Harry did care about him, he thought. Now he was beginning to think a lot clearer. But he was still worried about the dreams he had whilst under sedation. Why couldn’t he just be a normal young man?

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Chapter 25

Friendship is a strange phenomenon because even though it is there for the taking, not everyone experiences the emotions, kindness, sympathy, empathy, compassion, common interests, common beliefs, loyalty, and fun. This is what that you share in the close affection of having a true friend. But we are all different, and we experience different and sometimes difficult times in life that can make us resent other people and therefore lessen our chances of having a true friend. Aristotle was known to say there are three degrees of friendship which he deemed ‘Utility, pleasure and virtue’. Sometimes someone who claims to be a friend in life is quite the opposite. Human nature can make us use people for our own purposes and our own needs. Many people count a husband, wife, or civil partner as their best friend and this may continue throughout their lifetime, but very rarely does it happen. It is known that 42% of marriages end in divorce in the UK alone. Losing their best friends most of the time.

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Younger people go through all types of emotions throughout their maturity. Friends are controlled by parents, who they can or cannot see, and this can make that young person resentful of the parent, but it is sometimes necessary to prevent their son or daughter going down the wrong path. Parents are known for using the term ‘It will all end in tears’, which at times is absolutely true, especially if there is a romantic involvement with that friend, or they have trusted each other with their lives and suddenly something goes wrong. There can be loyalty in friendships, but that loyalty can be divided with the click of a finger. The culprit can see a wider horizon with the new kid on the block, or someone extremely good looking to them as their hormones go wild as teenagers. Friendship is meant to help us change and grow. Friends are people who call us on our issues, push us to grow, and support us through this process. The problems occur when one of the friends starts to indicate that there must be some give and take in the friendship for it to work. The key to a good friendship is not ‘Give and Take’ but ‘Give, Give, Give.’ You might stand a chance then of getting through life. People are born to be loved. Things are made to be used. The problem is, we love things and use people. That’s life.

It had been a difficult time for Stephen having to go through physiotherapy in order to be able to walk properly again. Dr Young had diagnosed him with adolescent psychosis and ensured that the boy was on regular medication, a high dosage of Promethazine hydrochloride, to treat him for the problems, which

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A Dish Best Served Cold seemed to be working as there were no more outbursts from the alien voice, and Stephen appeared to be in good spirits on the day he was discharged. The district mental health team were making regular home visits to check that everything was still fine. He was getting support. Stephen was still not happy. Tara and her family had moved to Tamerton Foliot whilst he was in hospital and he did not have her new address or her telephone number to keep in contact with her. It annoyed him to some extent. She knew his life story. He knew her life story. He had trusted her, and she had just upped sticks and left without even a goodbye. Katie could see how much this had hurt him inside. Tara was the best friend he had since, well Mark, who also did not bother with him once they went their separate ways because of school ending. What he did not realise was that Tara’s father had heard about his issues and there were rumours flying around the estate about him. Tara’s father forbid her from contacting him again. She had seen it as a clear break from life and the people she knew before the move. It was like Stephen now had nothing to do in the evenings, or even in the day come to that. He was seemingly getting more and more depressed because of everything, the treatment, no friends, and no job. The good thing about the new tablets was that they helped him sleep and because of the side effects which his mother was aware of because she had read the leaflet, she let him sleep each morning. The bad thing about this was that he felt he did not have anything or anybody to get up for anyway, so one situation was making the other worse than it should be.

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He was in his room and wanted to play some music. He looked at his records. Dollar. He just did not want to play them anymore because it was his and Tara’s little fun that they had together. The fact that he liked Dollar. He could sit in his room all day every day, or he could do something productive that the Police had not done; find the culprits who assaulted him. He had their images imprinted in his mind, but he also had the images of the kicking he had taken from them and the images started to hurt as much as the kicking itself. He did not turn his music on but grabbed his Harrington jacket off the bed and went downstairs. “Just going out, Mum!” It had surprised Katie totally. He had not been out much at all since he had been home from hospital, and even with prompting from his Community Psychiatric Nurse, he had refused. Now suddenly he was making the decision himself to go out. He would walk around and try to find them. Most ‘gangs’ hung around the Asda precinct in Estover, or outside the Spar shop in Thornbury. In Leigham they drank white lightning whilst sitting on the wall of the Church in the shopping precinct there. There was also the park in Miller Way which was also a haunt for gathering teenagers. “Don’t be late, love. I like to know where you are.” “I won’t. Just going up Asda’s.” He closed the door behind him and headed up to the Estover Shopping Precinct. When he reached there, he kept a low profile, trying hard not to be seen, just in case he spotted the three that he was looking for. The photographic mug shots were in his head. He scanned around the area below, overlooked by a large wall with

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A Dish Best Served Cold forty-six steps going down one side and a ramp used by the customers of Asda to push their trolleys down on the other. The three were not there. Not a chance. There were many teenagers around, playing football and on skateboards and generally annoying the locals by being loud and rowdy. The youth club was on in the local ELM Community Centre and the kids were allowed to come and go as much as they pleased. The music was blaring out over the precinct from the disco inside. Stephen waited a while, but there was no movement. Then he thought he would move on, just check the Miller Way park on the way home by walking the long way. In no time, he was on his feet at pace in order that he could check the park and get back home at a reasonable time. Across the school playing fields and over the fence, cross Miller Way and into the lane which split the park in two, but he would not go too far. He just wanted to know if they were there, or some other place where they hang out in the evenings. Perhaps he was too late. He had a curfew time, surely, they might have a curfew as well. Looks like he was out of luck tonight, he thought. There will be other nights. He headed back home.

The next day, Harry turned up in the morning just as Stephen was getting up for his breakfast. Katie had gone to work. Both of them went back to bed and made love. As they laid there afterwards, Harry suggested getting him out of the house and going somewhere out of town to help get his head straight. Harry could see that something was troubling him. They got dressed

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A Dish Best Served Cold and got in the car. Driving along, Harry had his hand on the boy’s leg most of the time. “What’s up then Batman?” Harry asked with some concern as he was worried about Stephen. “Oh, it’s, well. I do not know. A lot of things really.” Harry looked worried. “Me and you are alright though?” “Yes, yes. I just really want to find those three lads that done me over.” “Why?” Harry asked concerningly. “You are not thinking on doing anything stupid are you?” “Maybe.” Stephen stared out of the window forcing a bit of a silence between the two. He knew what he wanted to do and was not going to let anyone talk him out of it. “Nothing ever came out of revenge,” Harry said, rubbing and shaking the boy’s leg to get his attention again. “It makes you just as bad as them.” Stephen watched as Harry turned towards the Tamar Bridge heading towards Cornwall. “Well you know what they say, Harry,” Stephen said smiling at him. “What do they say?” “Revenge is a dish best served cold, and the longer you wait, the colder it gets.” Harry removed his hand from the boy’s leg. “Wow. That is like pretty deep. Is it really that important to you to get your own back on them?” He watched as Stephen nodded before returning his attention back to the road ahead and then tried his hardest not to look at him again. “I mean, there are three of them and only

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A Dish Best Served Cold one of you. It could turn into a tit for tat situation that could endanger your family.” Silence. The boy was unhappy that Harry was not going to support him in this. The fact was, Stephen was still immature whereas Harry had been there, got the t-shirt so to speak. “You don’t understand, Harry.” “Oh? I think I do, believe me!” Harry snapped back immediately. “They took a piece of me when they attacked me. I cannot think straight. I hear voices. Things going around and around in my head. I see their faces. I have nightmares.” Stephen was melancholy, on the verge of breaking into tears. “The Police are still investigating, lad. Give them a chance to bring the culprits to justice.” This was a situation that was beyond his pay grade, Harry thought to himself. “Why don’t you speak to your CPN about these things?” Stephen looked at him seriously. “They will lock me up for what I am thinking.” “No, they won’t,” Harry replied, concentrating on taking the exit for Looe. “They will work with you. Work on activities to get rid of all the demons.” “And the Police won’t find them because I told them I didn’t know what they looked like.” Stephen knew that he had his reasons. The Police would not find them even if he had given them the descriptions of them. It would all be swept under the carpet as ‘crime not solved’ within weeks. “Well, mate. I thought you were better than that, I really did,” Harry exclaimed whilst trying his hardest

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A Dish Best Served Cold to make Stephen see some sense whilst he, Harry, was trying to make sense of the situation himself. “The bible teaches us what to do. Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, Leviticus 24:19-22.” Harry became worried. He had heard of many crimes where the perpetrators had quoted the bible as their motivation and right to commit the crime. Well, he thought, it was more of a misinterpretation of the passages. “I didn’t know you were religious mate. You don’t come across as such.” “The bible is a violent guide to life. Religion is the cause of so many wars. I am not religious, but we are forced to follow the passages of the bible in life. Take the courts. You swear on the almighty bible. Christenings. Weddings.” Stephen continued to stare out of the window admiring the scenery as they approached the seaside fishing town. “Courts, Christenings and weddings are not religious wars.” Harry laughed, seeing the funny side of a husband and wife gunning for each other after several years of marriage. “They have been in the past. The Kings of England were marrying women, normally Princesses, from other Countries in order to secure a relationship with that Country. The women were normally much younger. It also normally postponed any chance of a religious war with a Country that had a different religion.” Stephen continued trying to justify his coming reaction to the three guys that had assaulted him. Harry was parking the car in the car park on the opposite side of the river, and whilst he had his head turned around looking out of the rear window reversing

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A Dish Best Served Cold into the space, he tried the multitask of speaking and driving. “So, you think that God will justify your actions?” “Harry, you are the only one I have told about this. Just let me do things my way and keep it quiet when the time comes, please.” Harry finished reversing and turned the engine off. “Mates never tell on mates, bud. But they can be concerned for you, and I am concerned for you. End of.” “Thank you. I love you Harry.” Stephen kissed him on the cheek, but Harry forced it into a full-on kiss on the lips. “I love you too. Now let us go and have some fun.” His eyes widened as he realised the boy was thinking of sex. “Of a different kind. The proper kind!”

The control room of ‘Operation Target’ was buzzing with life as statements had been collected and analysed, the questioning of potential suspects who had mostly attended voluntarily had been completed and a list of new suspects was being compiled and written on the whiteboard. DI Cooper and DS Monahan were shocked at some of the names that had been mentioned, which had indicated that the problem was widespread and there were other paedophile teachers in other schools. “Right, listen up!” shouted the senior officer to the crowded room full of members of Operation Target. “Thank you for all your hard work over the past few weeks. We now have a wealth of information that we

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A Dish Best Served Cold need to decipher to see if there is anything that we can use to make progress and move forward with this.” DS Monahan stood beside him. “We have been given names by certain members of the paedophile clan. We are not sure if these are names given just to divert the operation away from them.” DI Cooper continued. “What we do know is that there have been several pupils, eight at last count, who were the victim of James Mendham at Regent High School. Five of these were regularly sexually assaulted and three were raped.” The Sergeant put a photograph on the board. “This is Danny Tapper. Some of you will know him as one of Plymouth’s most prolific paedophilic offenders. He was one of four known Paedophiles that we couldn’t track down to interview.” “It turns out that Danny Tapper is James Mendham’s Brother-in-law.” DI Cooper added as there were loud whispers from the rest of the room. “Quieten it down,” DS Monahan said forcefully using his rank to quell the noise. “Now we have search warrants for the houses of Danny Tapper, James Mendham, although the house is now in possession of his wife, and the other four that we couldn’t get a hold of.” DI Cooper held the warrant papers in his upright hand for them all to see. “We will hit them first thing in the morning. Split the team into six and raid them simultaneously. Any questions?” “Doesn’t look like it!” DS Monahan said sharply, looking at the team to see if any hands were in the air. “Right,” the DI said looking at his watch. “It’s 2240 hrs now. Let us get some sleep then, and back

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A Dish Best Served Cold for a briefing at 0500 hrs! Sorry!” A mixture of groans and grunts from DI Cooper’s hard-working team filled the room. The thought of a 5am start was the worst nightmare for some even though the usual shift time started three hours later. DI Cooper knew it was just psychological with most of them, and that most would be back at the station at least 30 minutes before the briefing. DS Monahan picked up his briefcase from the floor. “Right Guv,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I will make tracks as well.” “Yes, no problem. See you in the morning.” “A 5am start? Surely not!” DS Monahan replied jokingly, mocking the moaners in the team as a smile came back from his boss.

The next morning, DI Cooper smirked at 0415 hrs as he was putting all the information on the board for his team to see in the briefing. The room was already graced with the presence of over half of his team, some of whom had been moaning about the 5am start. Surprisingly, DS Monahan had not made it yet, but he did have a longer distance to travel from Totnes to Plymouth. DC Sydenham, the joker of the pack, came into the room. “Morning Guv, he said to the DI. “Where’s our free breakfast?” “You missed it,” DI Cooper responded teasingly whilst continuing to stick posters on the board. “You should be buying me breakfast in any case. All this overtime!” “Fat chance with that, Guv,” a voice shouted from the back of the room which sounded like DC

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Manners. “They don’t call him stingy Sydenham for nothing!” He said as most of the occupants in the room heard the comment and started laughing. The room continued to fill with Officers who were desperate to get their hands on some of the perverted population of the city. DS Monahan finally arrived. “Sorry I’m late, Guv. I had a suspicious phone call. I have been warned off the investigation. Someone knows what we are doing and knows my telephone number at home.” He sat down on the edge of the table. “The voice said that we won’t get much on the raids this morning.” “They know about the planned raids. Did they say anything else or threaten you in anyway?” DI Cooper began to get worried. Was their information compromised? “The usual stuff. I know where you live. End it or we will end you.” DS Monahan looked at his boss with some concern. “Apart from the team here, who else knows what is happening?” “The only ones that have been told are the members of the Operation Target squad. Obviously, the DCI knows about it because he signed the warrants.” DS Monahan stared at him and closed his mouth tightly, so his lips rolled inwards. “Have you ever thought that we may have an insider?” DI Cooper stared back at him, maintaining a serious looking eye contact. “Let us do the raids and see if your caller was right. Then we can conduct a post-mortem afterwards. His junior officer nodded in agreement.

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“Jason Taylor did mention some high-profile professions in his interview. The only profession he didn’t mention was Police Officer.” DS Monahan was as worried about the situation as the DI, who wondered just what surprises were in store for them when they conducted the searches. He did not want to risk the lives of his officers. Does he warn them beforehand that the operation could be compromised? “What do you think that we should do?” DS Monahan paused and thought for a while. “Go ahead with the raid and don’t mention the call to anyone so they are unsuspecting and will therefore be more alert.” DI Cooper shared his thought process as both men hesitated whilst the thoughts jetted through their minds, with risk assessments echoing in their heads. Should they call SO19 just in case to provide armed back-up? “Okay team. You know what we have to do. You know your teams. Let us get these guys. Be careful, be alert and report back on your progress regularly. DS Monahan and I will be in the control van to back you up. Go get ‘em. Special bottle of 40-year- old brandy for the one who gets Danny Tapper!” The Looe trip had been fun for Stephen and Harry and the young teenager thought that he would really like his elder to be his boyfriend. He had not had a boyfriend since Mark and he and Harry just seemed to hit it off together so well, and Harry had told him that he loved him whilst they were down in Looe. There was one problem standing in the way. Harry was getting married to his sister. But should he do so? He was obviously in denial about his sexuality. What would happen if he

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A Dish Best Served Cold were to get married only for something to happen in the future with Stephen’s sister finding out the truth? Stephen laid on his bed. The sun piercing through the gap in his curtains had woken him up. His mind was over-active. He was over-thinking. Harry was getting the best of both worlds. He was making love to his sister one minute, and then fucking him up the arse the next. In some ways it was wrong. Anyway, he thought to himself. Forget about it. It was a bit of fun and the chances of Harry and him getting together were so remote, he did not want to think about it anymore. ‘He’s using you.’ Stephen jumped upright and looked around as though someone was in his bedroom. Had he fallen back to sleep? He had heard a voice. Was it just his sub-conscious? Perhaps he was imagining the whole thing. He had taken his pills the night before. He closed his eyes once more and laid back on top of the bed with his head on his pillow. ‘He’s using you just like Tara used you!’ He closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears. The voice was back. It was killing him inside. He did not want to hear it. He thought the pills would get rid of it. The voice just told him bad things all the time. Was he cursed? He had heard it first up at the cemetery. Had he picked up a curse because he had sat on the edge of a grave or something? He had to get out, away from the claustrophobia of his room. He jumped up from his bed and opened his bedroom door, down the stairs and out of the front door. The blowing breeze around him was a welcome gift as it allowed him to breathe again and try and clear his mind. He

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A Dish Best Served Cold took a deep breath as though he was tasting the purity in the air compared to the dry stagnant air in his room. Then he started walking. He did not know where, but he headed up towards Keswick Crescent and the entrance to the lane where he was found after the assault. Stephen did not know why he was going there. For some reason he had it in his head that he wanted to see the place and try and remember a bit more. His visions of the culprits were still firmly implanted in his mind, but they were fading on a day to day basis. Stephen crossed the road and could feel the nervousness in his stomach as he looked down the lane towards Blunt’s Lane. Dare he go down there, he asked himself. What would he find at that time in the evening? He stood staring down the darkened entity. If he did not do it now, he would be forever afraid of this place. “Fucking chicken-shit.’ “No, I’m not,” the boy replied to the voice. “You are just in my imagination. I am not listening to you anymore! But first I will show YOU who is the chicken- shit!” With that, he took several steps forward into the lane but stopped about two metres in. In his head he could visualise the day of the assault, his face and clothes blooded, his legs limping, and one arm was holding the other. “Come on, Stephen!” He closed his eyes once more and took the next steps and his walk soon became a fast-paced jog as he suddenly reached the intersection. He was brave. He could do it. Stephen picked up the courage to turn right and head down to the place where the crime took place. He did not stop, did not even look, but headed up the other side towards the kennels on the left. He could hear the

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A Dish Best Served Cold noise of the animals as he got closer, barking, meowing, and neighing. Horses, he told himself, listening once more and then smiling and laughing at himself as he realised that it was a goat. Mum would call him a ‘bloody fool’ he thought as he imagined her saying it to him. He walked up to the big metal mesh fence that lead to the reception of the kennels. Normally there were resident cats roaming around quite freely, and dogs being walked around the yard. But he did not concentrate on the animals as he noticed a boy with a broom sweeping the yard. The pictures in his mind raced as though it was looking through a photo album, turning the pages to see the most exciting photo’s as he did. It clicked. The male in front of him was one of his attackers. “Shit,” he said, quickly hiding behind the large stone gatepost with his back to the stone. He was hoping that he had not been seen. He knew he had to be careful just in case the other two boys were close by. The leisure centre was not far away up on the right. They might be there. So far, he had not been compromised, but he knew that he had to hide. He looked over to the other side of the lane and saw an opening in the bush. He was going to wait for this guy to finish his work. He scampered across the lane and clambered up the bank and into the bush. ‘Kill him!’ He did not take notice as he waited for over an hour in the bush. From the hedge beside him, he grabbed a small piece of what looked like a scaffolding pole, although it was too small to be one. Then he watched as the boy who had assaulted him weeks before walked towards the gate and swung his

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A Dish Best Served Cold rucksack over his right shoulder. He shut the gate behind him and headed left towards the College which was at the far end of the top of the lane. Stephen watched him move slightly ahead and then eased himself down the bank back onto the lane and kept himself close to the side of the bank as he followed. ‘Kill him NOW!’ The attacker strolled casually up the lane, past the leisure centre and then up towards the part of the lane that was covered by trees and therefore very dark with only light piercing the heavy branches and leaves. It was quite desolate as well. Stephen had to take the opportunity now. Silently he edged forward slightly faster than his potential victim was strolling. Stephen grasped the pole tightly in his right hand and ran towards the boy in front of him. As he reached him, without stopping he swung the pole into the back of the boy’s knees. His victim screamed out in pain as he collapsed onto his knees. But he did not have time to demand that his attacker stopped, or even get chance to turn around to see Stephen, who slammed the pole down on the back of his head. The victim fell forwards, face down in the gravel covered surface. He was out cold. “You are not so fucking brave when your mates are not around, are you Nigel?” What he was saying started to confuse the boy as he swung the pole again and again, hitting his torso continuously as the wounds started to show all over his body. Stephen wanted to teach him a lesson and make sure that he did not go around assaulting anyone ever again. He hit his hands, his arms, raising the pole high over his head to hit his head twice more. He thought he would see Nigel Dodd.

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He thought he was attacking Nigel Dodd for assaulting him and assaulting Martin. But then he realised amongst all the blood on the boy’s body, the face was not Nigel’s. The body was lifeless. Stephen stopped. Looked around. No one was up here. No one to be seen. “Taught you a fucking lesson, you cunt!” He hesitated, looked at the boy, and then put the pole inside his jacket. Then he took one final look at the body. On the wrist was David’s watch. Stephen couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He leaned down and removed it before fastening the watch on his own arm where it belonged. Then he ran back down the lane, past the intersection and right down to the end where his fate had started a few weeks ago. The evening was coming in and the night-time air was becoming damp. He had one last thing to do. There was a stream at the junction of Blunt’s Lane and the Forder Valley Road. Wash the weapon, then dispose of it. He jumped down into the water, careful not to leave any footprints in the mud at the side of the stream. He washed the pipe and then threw it inside the small tunnel which was under the small road bridge leading into Blunt’s Lane. He washed his hands, and then looked to see if there was any blood on his clothes which he examined and thought there was extraordinarily little. He concentrated hard, looking at the water as he stood watching the redness of the blood wandering downstream with the flow of the it and dispersing as it diluted with the stream, the thought exciting him. Suddenly he started walking in the water down the

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A Dish Best Served Cold stream towards the path beside Novorossisk Road that would lead him home. As he went inside his house, he noticed that the voices had not spoken to him for a while. Perhaps they had gone. He was hoping that they had. He had to wash his clothes. Was his mum home? “Mum? Are you here?” There was no reply. So he ran upstairs to get the washing basket to see if there was any other washing that needed to be done, which would make it less guilty looking as he could tell his mother that he had put a load of washing on. He came down with nearly a full basket, and then stripped in front of the machine and put all his clothes into the wash. Stephen knew what his mum would say. ‘Oh love, you angel. You’ve done a load of washing!’ He would be in her good books for this week at least.

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Chapter 26

Some people are just on a path to self-destruction and they do not know the reason why. There are a lot of the human race, especially children, who have these tendencies because they cannot cope with the worries of life and what it throws at them. Some self-harm, cutting themselves or burning themselves with cigarettes. It is a coping mechanism, a negative impulse which anyone can have over time. Stress and worry can cause these feelings. Many agencies will ensure that negative impulses are met with positive re- enforcement to enable the person who is on the path to rid themselves of some of the thoughts of self- destruction. Emotions run high in the person who feels like bringing the pain to either themselves of others. Anger and aggression fulfil the individual who is blaming the circumstances and emphasizes what was missing, what was not perfect, or what he or she does not have in life.

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Do self-destructive traits start in a young child? The answer must be yes. Negative impulses do not differentiate. The child may be bullied at school for whatever reason, have divorced parents or one of the parents may have passed-away. Or they may come from a poor family and are not dressed the way the other children do at school with all the brand-named clothing. The child will recognize that something negative is happening, but doesn’t do anything to stop it or control its effect because they are afraid to tell their parents that they are being bullied. They want to give the same impression that they are like their parents. This happens when, for example, we do not defend ourselves against abuse or aggression. The child will go through the years grasping for attention, demanding, hiding their emotions at every turn, and giving up on their desires, dreams, and achievements. By the time they reach their teen years, if it has not been approached on a positive level by medical psychologists, the teen will see that every relationship, either as a friend, family member or romantically is sabotaged. They do not know who they are, what their purpose is in life and struggle to structure themselves in any part of life. Your emotions shape your life. You either become part of life or you do not. You either fit in or you do not. Liked by those in life or not so. Self-destructive.

The television burst into life as Katie changed channels for the local ITV news. She loved finding out what was going on in the City and turned the volume up on the TV to hear the headline.

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‘A teenager aged 18 was found battered to death in Blunt’s Lane earlier this morning. A man out walking his dog came across the body near the Derriford Hospital end of the lane at approximately half past six this morning and ran to the hospital for help. The teenager was pronounced dead at the scene despite the efforts of the paramedics who attended. Police are treating this as murder. This is the second reported violent crime in Blunt’s Lane in the last three weeks.’

Stephen just caught the tail end of the headline as he came downstairs to see his mother. “Oh my god. Did he say murder in Blunt’s Lane?” “Yes,” Katie replied worryingly. “It looks like you could have been lucky. Whoever did this was out to kill.” “Well it was three of them on me. Hopefully, the Police catch them before there are any more attacks.” Stephen was not worried. He did not mean for the lad to die, but it looked like he went a bit too far. ‘Serves him right!’ Stephen shook his head as he stood in the doorway. He was ignoring the voice, not even giving it the time of day when it came to reply to it. The voices were getting him into trouble, and maybe one day, he thought, they would not. He could just be a normal boy with a normal life and know normal people. But he knew that he was going too far with some of the things he had done. He could not speak to his CPN. He knew that if he told him about hearing voices, that he would be in hospital faster than a jet plane could break the sound barrier. He used to be able to speak to Tara, but she

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A Dish Best Served Cold had dumped him. He could not speak to his mother or Sisters or Aunties or Uncles. “I’m going out, Mum,” he said. “Stay away from Blunt’s Lane. It’s dangerous,” his mother replied concerningly. “Don’t worry, I’d never go that way on my own again,” he replied has he walked out of the door, up Langdale Gardens and over towards the Asda shopping centre. He saw a mobile Police van right outside displaying the ‘information needed’ sign for the murder of the boy. Everywhere he looked, he saw something. The front page of the Evening Herald had the headline ‘Cold Blooded Murder’ which he saw as he walked past Martin’s the Newsagents below Asda. People were gossiping about it and he could hear their jibes as he walked past them, ‘Did you hear about ….’ He had to get away from it all. He looked over to the Community Centre, the only place that seemed empty apart from the Methodist Minister Tony Windsor standing outside waving to someone as they were driving away. ‘You are going to see a priest?’ He tried to ignore the voice again. ‘Don’t you dare ignore me or your Mother will be next on my list.’ Stephen moved closer towards Reverend Windsor, who saw him approaching. “Leave me alone!” he shouted. ‘You speak to that Vicar and I will fuck your brain up forever!’ The priest could see that Stephen was in distress with his hands on his ears and his shouting. He

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A Dish Best Served Cold moved closer to help him. “Are you okay, my son?” Stephen stopped and went down on his knees. “Help me, please,” Stephen replied. “Please!” Reverend Windsor grabbed his arm. “Come on. Come into the Church.” ‘Tell him you don’t want to go in there.’ Stephen ignored the voice. He started walking with the priest, his hands still covering his ears to block out the noise. “Tell them to go away, please!” Suddenly, Stephen felt a pain in his ears as all he could hear was a high-pitched screaming from what seemed like a hundred voices. He started to sob as the sound started to hurt his head as though someone were digging into his brain. Second later, the Church door closed behind both him and Reverend Windsor. The voices and the screaming stopped. He stared around, realised the noise had gone and then removed the hands from his ears. “Come and sit down,” Reverend Windsor said, leading him over to the chair. “Let’s get you a drink of water.” He went to the water machine in the side room and returned with a plastic cup full of ice cool water, and then watched the boy drink it straight down. “You are sweating. Do you want to tell me anything?” The boy just looked down to the ground at first, staring into a nothingness and not able to think. It was like he wanted to speak but had lost the skills to do so. He tried moving his lips but could not. He began to wonder if the voices had ‘fucked his brain up’ as they had threatened outside. “You were shouting at someone outside, but I couldn’t see who,” Reverend Windsor said, still wondering what was going through the boy’s mind.

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“Have you got anyone you want me to call? Your parents maybe?” He watched as Stephen shook his head slowly. “You can talk to me. I will not judge you. I am not going to try and convert you or pray. I am just a listening ear. I cannot say that I can fix anything that is wrong, but I can try and help. My name is Tony. Reverend Tony Windsor.” He held his hand out to shake with the troubled boy. Stephen lifted his head up and looked at the priest. Could he trust him? He seemed like quite a nice person, willing to help anyone. But how would he react with what Stephen could tell him? Would he be as friendly then? Maybe he could make a start, see how it goes and be selective with what he tells him. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to force some words out. “I’m Stephen. I hear voices.” His comment did surprise the Priest. “Hello Stephen. So, these voices, is that who you were shouting at outside?” Reverend Windsor asked, staring into the boy’s eyes. He nodded. “They are nasty to me. Tell me to do things.” The priest grabbed the boy’s hand in a supporting manner, tapping it several times. “Oh, my Lord,” he said. “How long have you been hearing these voices?” “Since last year. I visited Efford Cemetery and tried to speak to my brother. At first it was his voice. Then it was not. Sometimes there are hundreds all shouting at me.” Stephen felt helpless, lethargic, and filled with sadness. “Outside just now he told me he would hurt my family and do something to my brain if I spoke to you.”

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Reverend Windsor paused for a while, trying to think of his next move. “First thing, you are not alone. There are lots of people who are in the same position hearing voices.” “But they will lock me up in a mental hospital if I tell them.” “That doesn’t happen these days. I need you to tell me a bit about yourself. You see, as a Priest, I believe in certain things. God, for one, and the Devil. You may not believe, but I will always see things as good or evil, and I can tell you that these voices you hear are a kind of evil.” He watched as the youngster nodded. “I thought that,” Stephen replied. Reverend Windsor thought he would pause before scaring the boy with what he had to say next, so he asked, “Do you want another drink of water? I need one!” He took the plastic cup from him and headed back to the water machine, returning with two cups, and taking his seat once again. “Thanks,” Stephen said as he was given the cup of water. “I was beaten up and in hospital for a while. I was talking in my sleep, they told me. But in a different voice.” “There are things in this world that are called demons. These are the beings that are making you hear these things.” He waited for a response for a while, knowing that it would shock the boy a bit. “So, are they inside me?” Stephen asked with some concern. “I can’t say at the moment. They target the vulnerable, and probably saw how vulnerable you were when you visited your brother’s grave.” Tony Windsor

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A Dish Best Served Cold grabbed his bible as a way of protecting himself. “Please be open minded. When I was outside, God told me to look your way. I felt a bad presence, but not from you, from what is controlling you.” “I don’t believe in God,” Stephen reacted. “Many would say that it is my job to try and convince you to do the opposite. But I do not believe that. We must all have our freedom to make our own choices in life.” The priest grabbed his bible tightly in his free hand. “What are demons?” “Do you want the long version or the short version?” The priest joked, trying to bring some calm and peace to the situation. Stephen looked at him and bravely smiled. “The short version.” “I thought you might say that. We would be here all week for the long version!” He opened his bible and just held it in front of him. “Take this to be my instruction book, a bit like you would get to work a machine of some kind.” “Yeh we had them in school for R.E.” Stephen replied as he remembered Mr Floyd, who also taught them English Language and lived and died by his knowledge of the Bible. Reverend Windsor was trying to think of how to put his teaching. “Okay. Well you might think this to be a far-fetched story about some guy called Jesus who was going around curing everyone from disease and feeding them. He was the good I talked about.” “In your opinion, because you believe in God.” “Bear with me,” Reverend Windsor continued. “You asked me what Demons were. They are fallen

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A Dish Best Served Cold angels. They used to be God’s friends, but they turned against him, promoted evil and were banished from Heaven because of that. They are trying to make everyone evil.” The youngster listened. “So, the voices I hear all the time. They are just evil?” “They will grasp your pain and sorrow because you are vulnerable. They will always taunt you and make you do evil things, never good. They will try and turn you against your family.” The priest looked at him and said, “Now I know you don’t believe, and I respect that, but just listen to what my instruction book, the bible, says about demons.” He opened the bible to the first passage that mentioned the work of evil. “The Bible tells us that Satan and his demons can inflict harm on earth by possessing people to cause them physical and spiritual harm and to make them do evil. He will also blind the minds of unbelievers so that they cannot see the light of the Gospel. In Satan’s world, Hell in other words, he likes deceiving people by disguising themselves as “servants of righteousness”. Promoting false doctrine and performing signs to deceive humans. Finally, Satan will torment God’s believers.” ‘This boy is already in my kingdom, priest!’ Reverend Windsor froze still as the voice returned, more violent than before. Stephen’s body had gone limp and was leaning forward in the chair. The priest grasped his aspergillum that was on a chain around his neck and loosened the top. Then he jumped up quickly and grabbed the crucifix on the table next to them. He flicked the holy water over the boy. “Be gone, demon! Leave this boy!”

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‘It’s too late, priest! He is in Satan’s shadow already!’ “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, I order you to leave the boy, return to hell.” Reverend Windsor continued to flick the holy water over the boy. ‘Bad news! He doesn’t believe in you or your God!’ “No? But I do! How dare you enter God’s place of worship. You are not welcome. Now Leave!” The voice went silent and Stephen fell face first onto the floor in front of him. Reverend Windsor knelt down to comfort the boy who was covered in sweat as though he had just run a marathon at record speed. He was also only semi-conscious. “Stephen?” He tapped his cheek lightly. “Stephen?” There was no sign of life. Time to call an ambulance he thought as he got back up and rushed over towards the Church office and dialled 999. Minutes later he returned to the Church. There was no sign of Stephen. His lifeless body was gone. Tony Windsor looked around and walked between the aisles and then up around the altar. Nothing, not a sign of him. He must have gone outside, Tony told himself as he headed towards the Church entrance doors. Reverend Windsor looked around. There was the usual array of skateboarders and underage drinkers that usually congregated in the area, but no sign of Stephen. He walked quickly whilst still scanning the area in case the boy had collapsed again, but he did not see anyone resembling the boy. He was now worried. What he had witnessed. The boy needed help, and there was still much more to him, he could feel it.

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He knew the boy had a story and he knew that he was not going to like it. He turned back towards the church and was contemplating on the way whether he should call the Police. Perhaps they would know who he might be or where he lives? But how would he explain the experience he had with the boy, the voices, the shouting? Perhaps he should just speak to the Community Police Officer, Bill Kennaway. Now he knew everyone. He also lived not far from the vicarage and it was on the way home. Twenty minutes later, Reverend Windsor was approaching PC Bill Kennaway’s home on Miller Way. From a short distance, the priest could see him in his garden. He knew that the garden was a way of Bill winding down, and they had spent many a conversation about the plants and flowers that were due to bloom. “Dahlia’s are looking good, Bill.” He startled the Police Officer, who stood in his garden scruffs as he recognised the voice. “Hi there Tony. Yes, I have been glad of the damp weather recently. It had kept the garden tip top.” “Just how do you get those roses to grow that beautiful?” The priest asked, sniffing one of the yellow roses. Bill laughed. “Cow manure! I have a friend up on Dartmoor who lets me have some now and again. It’s a bit smelly, but it works.” Bill took his garden gloves off as he started to pack away for the night. “We haven’t got anything booked in for tonight have we Tony?” Bill was thinking that he had missed a community meeting that they usually both attended.

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“No, no.” Tony said shaking his head. “I need to speak to you urgently about a bit of a delicate issue.” “You had better come in then. I have some of that daffodil wine you like.” “That’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Tony replied as he followed the off-duty Policeman. They both sat down at the table in the dining room as Bill’s wife, who had overheard him mention the daffodil wine, brought in two glasses and the bottle. “Thanks.” “I don’t know what I would do without her,” Bill said as he smiled at his other half. “Thanks darling,” he acknowledged as his wife put the tray on the table and then exited knowing that the two men were probably going to talk official business like they normally did. “What’s on your mind?” Bill asked as he poured from the bottle. Tony cleared his throat. “I had a young lad, probably aged about sixteen to seventeen, collapse on me tonight. He was in the precinct shouting, so I took him into the Church.” “Did you call an ambulance?” Bill asked with authority in his voice. “Yes,” Tony replied. “But the boy disappeared before I returned from the phone call. I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Bill looked inquisitively, being the typical suspicious Policeman. “Do you know what was wrong with him?” “He was shouting and holding his head and ears when I first saw him. Then inside he opened up to me and said he was hearing voices.” Tony showed concern in his facial expressions. “You look worried, Tony.”

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“Well that’s not all,” the priest replied with fear in his voice. “I heard the voice. The boy spoke out. His lips did not move.” “You are making this sound very supernatural, Tony,” Bill replied, actually believing the religious man because he knew that he would not lie. “Three times! Three times! Then he collapsed into a heap on the floor.” Tony shook his head. “So, I’ve come up to see if you know of anyone with those problems in the area.” Bill started to think, the cogs going around in his brain as he looked up to the ceiling. “Do you have a name or anything?” “Stephen,” Tony replied. “That’s all I know.” “Well that will narrow it down a bit.” Bill was thinking of the best way around the matter. “I’ll tell you what I will do. I am on duty tomorrow so will check the PNC, and then give you a call. How does that sound?” “Thank you, Bill,” Tony replied, swigging down what was left of his glass of wine and then standing up. “I had better go. Hopefully, I will not be staggering up the street after the wine,” he laughed. “Drunk and disorderly!” Bill said jokingly.

The next day, Police Constable Kennaway checked the Police National Computer for ‘Steven’ or ‘Stephen’ aged fifteen to eighteen in the vicinity. There were 189 of them, so Bill filtered out those who had never been in contact with the Police. That took it down to 34. Then he narrowed down the area again to close vicinity. The records now stood at 5. He wrote down the names and addresses and then left to return to Estover, pulling up

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A Dish Best Served Cold just outside of the vicarage fifteen minutes later. He banged on the door. “Bill, I thought you were going to ring.” Tony Windsor said, surprised to see the Officer. “Well I was, but then I thought, I cannot give you information like this unless I am involved on the case. So, I thought I will come with you, and then we can both check it out. Safety in numbers.” Bill knew he would be happier accompanying the priest, especially after what he had told him the night before. “That sounds cracking,” Tony replied. It would also give him the edge by having a uniformed officer with him. Then if there was any trouble. Well, who knows? Bill showed the priest the list he had compiled. “I’ve narrowed it down to five,” he said. “That’s less than I thought it was going to be.” Reverend Windsor said, amazed that there were only five. “I thought I was going to have to search for a few days.” He closed his front door and got into the passenger side of the Police car. “Right, let’s go!”

The first three on the list were all retracted from the list after PC Kennaway asked to see photos of the boys concerned and Reverend Windsor gave them a clear identification. The fourth house, in Langdale Gardens, was Stephen’s. Katie heard a knock on the door and came out of the kitchen to answer. “Hello. Can I help you?” PC Kennaway took his hat off and flashed his warrant card. Not that he needed it because the uniform was a complete giveaway. “I was wondering if

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I could have a word with Stephen. It is okay. He’s not in trouble or anything.” “Of course,” Katie replied turning to shout up the stairs. “I’m his mother. Katie. Katie Bishop. Stephen! Visitors for you!” She looked at the two men, and then asked, “Would you like to come in, gentlemen,” just as Stephen started walking down the stairs. First, he saw the Police Officer, and when Bill moved a step forward, he saw the priest that he had met the night before. Reverend Windsor nodded at PC Kennaway and whispered, “That’s him.” “Hello Stephen,” the priest said in a calm, collective voice, not wanting to scare the boy in any way. Stephen went quite embarrassed. “Hello. I’m sorry about last night.” Katie was looking at the three of them. “Will somebody please tell me what is going on here?” She looked at her son. “How do you know a priest? And what were you doing last night?” PC Kennaway intervened. “I think all four of us need to have an important chat.” “Well you had better come in and sit down.” They all went into the living room and sat down. Reverend Windsor knew he could not break Stephen’s confidence, but perhaps the boy would be able to say something himself. “Stephen, I just want to check that you are alright.” “Why shouldn’t he be?” Katie asked, still wondering how Stephen knew a Priest because she knew he was always so negative about belief and those who believed in God.

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“Mum, please,” Stephen pleaded before turning his attention to the priest. “I’m alright thank you, Reverend, and thank you for taking to me last night.” Katie looked confused. Since when had her son started talking to a man of the cloth? “What were you talking to him about that you couldn’t talk to me about?” she asked, angry that her own son felt he could not do that. “Perhaps you can tell me?” She looked at Reverend Windsor. “I am afraid the only person who can tell you what we discussed is your son, Mrs Bishop. I cannot break his confidence.” Tony knew that this would hopefully build bridges between him and Stephen, and let the boy see that he could be trusted. Katie huffed. “Is that the case? Well Stephen, are you going to spit it out?” “One of the reasons that I can’t speak to you is because you are always on the defensive. Always thinking that I have done something wrong!” “And have you? Why else would a Police Officer be here?” Katie slammed her hand on the coffee table. Bill Kennaway thought it was time to cool things. “He hasn’t done anything wrong, Mrs Bishop. He just spoke to Reverend Windsor last night who wanted to check that he was alright because Stephen left without saying goodbye.” The Reverend looked Stephen in the eye and smiled, a sad type of smile that was really saying, ‘tell your mother’. He nodded slightly, edging him to say something. But then the priest said, “I can see you are okay, Stephen. If you ever feel the need to talk to me again, you know where to come.”

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“No, hold on,” Stephen said sharply. “I need you here Reverend, so I can say this.” He watched Reverend Windsor sit back down. “Mum. I am ill. I am still hearing voices like the ones you said you heard when I was in hospital. They are getting worse. They are making me do things that I do not want to do. I need help. I’m begging for help!” Reverend Windsor leaned over and shook the boy’s hand. “Well done.” Then he looked at Stephen’s mother. “If there is anything that I can do to help, Mrs Bishop, please let me know. I am worried about your boy. It took guts to come in and talk to a complete stranger, so I know he has the strength to get through this.” “Mrs Bishop, and Stephen,” PC Kennaway interrupted. “The same here. If you need any help, or just someone to talk to, Stephen, then telephone Crownhill Police Station and ask them to radio through to me. Even call the Reverend and ask him to contact me. You are not alone!” Reverend Windsor stood up and nudged PC Kennaway to do the same. “Right, we will be off. I think you two need to talk.” “Thank you, Reverend, and Officer,” Katie said as though she were about to burst into tears. She let them out of the front door, and then before she came back, she paused in the hallway, wondering if she were to blame for this because she should have known. She was a nurse and she should have seen the problems coming. If only she had spent the time with him.

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Chapter 27

Would the world be a better place if we all earned the same, had the same personalities and temperaments, loved in the same way, never had the need for medical care? A world where no one person is more important that another. The answer would be no, because we would still want to complete tasks in our own way and argue about which is the best way. You will always have someone looking to do it quickly, taking short cuts. Or the one that plans everything and executes that plan in military fashion. Human nature dictates that we will never get on with everyone that we know, be it family, friends, or work colleagues. The human race is always out to improve themselves in social standing by doing well at work, being liked, and getting that promotion. Psychologists claim that you should treat fellow employees at your work simply as work colleagues and not rely on their friendship or their apparent need of you. Keep away from too many alliances because these will still celebrate on your demise in the world.

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The organisation, or an individual in that organisation may have an alternative motive, and it does not matter if they are lower or higher in the chain of command. That motive could be for personal reasons, to try and get promotion by frequently lobbying their bosses before the bosses make a promotion. Also, they may bypass the chain of command to get approvals for certain decisions. It could also be to cover their own tracks for something they have done which could see them having to resign or be fired from that organisation. In life you will not know who you can trust. You will think you know, but that trust that you think you have in a friend, family member or work colleague can go out of the window as fast as it came in. They meet new friends and have better offers for socialising. They commit a crime and know they can no longer rely on your friendship as you would disagree to the crime because you have better morals. They believe all the rumours that are echoing around which were started by some busy body who never knew you. Life is a game. One which you will never win.

DI Cooper and DS Monahan sat in the unmarked Police Car about two hundred yards away from Danny Tapper’s house in Harewood Crescent waiting for each team to radio in. It was nearly 0600 hr’s; the sun was beginning to show itself on the horizon. The six teams were in place and ready to raid each Paedophiles home at exactly the same time as instructed. The DI looked at his watch, having made sure everyone was ready. He clicked his radio. “Operation Target. Go! Go! Go!”

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The two senior officers got out of their car and stood watching. Neighbours heard the commotion and looked out of their windows at the flashing lights at ringleader Danny Tapper’s house in Honicknowle. ‘Team A’ conducted the entry with the enforcer, and no prior warning and no chance to let the suspects open the door manually and get rid of any evidence. “Police! Stay where you are!” DI Cooper listened in and heard the six teams all shout their warnings. They would not get away because the teams were all placed front and back of each property. He gave each team a bit of time to gather the suspects and continued listening. “Face down on the floor! Identify yourself!” The command came from Team B, as DS Monahan clicked his radio. “Team Commanders, sit-rep as soon as possible!” DS Monahan exclaimed exerting his authority on the teams. “Team C at Mainstone Avenue, two in custody. We need an ambulance for two young victims.” DS Monahan hated the fact that youngsters were found at the properties of suspected paedophile criminals. “Okay Team C. I’ll arrange.” Then his radio burst into life again. “Team A here. No one in the premises. We are checking the loft and garden.” “No sign of Tapper?” the DI intervened. “Not at the moment, Guv.” The DI became slightly annoyed and thumped the roof of the car. “Fuck!” he said. “We have found a quantity of A-Class though Guv. Plus, a large case of money. Looks like Heroin.

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About three kilogrammes,” Team A’s commander spouted down the radio. “Okay. That is a good find. See you back at base.” DI Cooper stopped to let his Sergeant continue with the check ins. “Team D?” Anything?” “Team D here at Coppice Gardens. Four in custody. We need ambulances for two boys aged about eight or nine and two girls aged about eleven.” “Received,” DS Monahan acknowledged. “Team B here at Tavistock Road. Still searching. One in custody so far.” “Thank you, Team B,” DI Cooper reacted. “ASAP though!” “Yes, Sir.” “Team F at Plymstock Road. Three in custody. Three young boys found who need medical attention.” “Okay,” DI Cooper replied forcefully. “I’ll arrange.” He looked at his watch. “Team E? Any luck?” There was nothing. No reply whatsoever. Perhaps they had a faulty radio, Cooper thought to himself. “Team E come in please. Sit-rep required.” There was still no reply. “Where is Team E based?” DI Cooper asked his counterpart. DS Monahan looked at his list. “Ham Drive. Why?” “They are not answering their radio.” He thought he would try again. “Team E? Come in, please. Team E?” Nothing, there was still no reply, not even a crackle of the radio which usually came through if it was faulty. “Okay, let’s get around to Ham Drive.” DS Monahan threw his clipboard onto the senior officer’s lap and started the car. Then with his tyres

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A Dish Best Served Cold spinning in urgency he pulled away at speed. The house was about two miles from where they were originally based in Honicknowle. They soon arrived near the house in Ham Drive. The van was outside, lights flashing on the top. “Do you think we should call SO19?” DI Cooper looked at the house. There was no sign of life, not even one of the team coming in and out with any evidence as they should be doing. “Yes, we may need armed backup.” “Sierra Oscar from DS457,” the Sergeant responded, lifting his radio to his mouth. “ARV required on Operation Target at 45 Ham Drive.” “DS457, have alerted SO19. ETA ten minutes.” “There’s nothing,” DI Cooper said in a lowered voice. “No lights, no torch beam. What the hell is going on? I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” “You are not the only one,” DS Monahan replied seriously, looking across towards the house. He opened the car door and got out, resting his arms on the top of the car door. “Can you see anything?” DS Monahan tried to get closer, but only at a safe distance, to see if he could see anymore. DI Cooper joined him in getting out of the car, watching the younger man dash behind the bush in front of the house to see if he could get a view of anything. Then he ran back to his DI as quietly as possible. “I can’t see anything.” The unmarked van from SO19 pulled up beside them, and the slide door on the side of the van was opened. “DI Cooper?”

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“Yes, that’s me,” The senior officer replied with some authority. “AFO Cole, SO19. Believe you have a problem?” DI Cooper shook the Officer’s hand and then continued, “We have a team of four officers who raided number 45, but there is no radio contact to or from them. We have had no communication whatsoever. It is quite a delicate case. So, we called you guys.” AFO Cole watched the rest of his team exit the vehicle and check their weapons. “Okay. We will go in and clear the building first. Once we have given you the all clear, you can follow.” “Thank you,” DI Cooper said, as he watched the team get into position, with some being sent around the rear of the property. Then he heard the calls of ‘Armed Police, stay where you are!’ several times from several of the armed team. Minutes later, AFO Cole exited the house shaking his head. “You had better come in, Sir. It is not good news. There are four bodies in there each with several fatal gunshot wounds.” Both DI Cooper and DS Monahan bowed their heads, and then looked at each other. DS Monahan shook his head in amazement. “How the hell did this happen? Since when have the local paedophile community been known to carry weapons?” “Come on,” DI Cooper replied sadly. “I have the feeling someone somewhere doesn’t want this investigation to go very far.” AFO Cole looked at them. “Let me go back in first.” They walked in, past the armed guard on the door.

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“Let us get the scene sealed off. It is now a crime scene. I don’t want anyone coming in or out without the proper authorisation.” DI Cooper saw the first body. “DC Bullen. She was a good officer.” DS Monahan quickly stepped back outside to radio back to base. “Sierra Oscar from DS457. We need assistance and MIT at 45 Ham Drive. Four Officers down.” “Sierra Oscar confirmed. Do you require medical assistance as well?” DS Monahan wished that he did could just call for medical assistance, but it was too late. “We will at some point, not yet. But we will need SOCO and Forensics ASAP.” “Will do, DS457.” DS Monahan went back to the car, opened the boot, and pulled out a roll of ‘Police – Do Not Cross’ tape and started to seal off the area. He stopped, picked up his radio. “Any available Operation Target personnel available to assist at the location of Team E. Urgent Assistance required. Officers down, I repeat, Officers down.” Back at the house, one of AFO Cole’s team suddenly alerted the others. AFO Mitchell held his arm up, fist clenched, and indicated noise coming from the cupboard. The team gathered, rifles cocked and pointed at the cupboard. AFO Mitchell opened the door quickly. The cupboard was empty apart from an old coat hanging up on a rail. He stepped inside the cupboard. The floor was covered by an old Persian rug and as he stepped on it, something appeared loose underneath. He leaned down and rolled the rug back, aiming his rifle at what looked like a trap door. They

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A Dish Best Served Cold could definitely hear something down under the trap door, but whether it was human or animal no one knew. “Armed Police!” he shouted commandingly. “Stay away from the hatch. Armed officers are coming down. Put your hands in the air where we can see them.” Then he pulled at the trap door and looked downwards. It was a basement, which had looked like it had been purposely made. Mitchell waved three fingers to indicate that he wanted three of them to drop down into the hole. Shining a torch, he looked in and could see a ladder attached to the wall on one side. “Cover me,” he said as he climbed down. Two others followed suit, and AFO Mitchell shone his torch around the room. Something moved. “Stay where you are! Armed Police! Show yourself.” His two colleagues appeared behind him both aiming rifles. “We will shoot if you do not comply!” Cautiously, a well-dressed man, one you would probably not ever see in a dusty old basement, appeared into the torchlight with his hands in the air indicating that he did not have any seen weapons. AFO Mitchell did not care how much his suit cost. “Down on the floor! Face down!” The stranger complied with the command and AFO Mitchell hoisted his rifle knowing that the other two officers were covering him. He released his handcuffs and walked over towards the body on the ground. “What’s is your name?” There was no reply as the Officer pulled tightly on the sealed cuffs. “I’m not fucking around here. NAME!” “Tapper. Danny Tapper.” “Daniel Tapper, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may

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A Dish Best Served Cold harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later may rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?” Tapper nodded as he was lifted to his feet by AFO Mitchell and AFO Brown. The third officer remained vigilant. There could be someone else down here. DI Cooper stood waiting for news of who they had found. Suddenly AFO Brown climbed out of the hatch. “One in custody, Sir,” he said to the DI. “Do we have a name?” he asked as he was joined by DS Monahan. “Daniel Tapper. He’s been arrested on suspicion of murder.” AFO Brown covered the hatch as the prisoner was told to climb up, quite hard in handcuffs, but the officers did not care. His head appeared and he scrunched his eyes as though he had not seen daylight for quite a while. “My, my, my. Daniel Tapper. We have been looking for you,” DI Cooper commented. Tapper was known to have a camp voice and be very effeminate, accounting for his body language as he was pulled out of the hole by two other SO19 officers. He looked at Cooper. “And now you have found me,” he said sarcastically. “I will have the pleasure of personally interviewing and processing you.” DI Cooper smirked. “Plymouth will be rid of you once and for all.”

The next day, the news had reached both the local and the National news, shown on BBC & ITV headlines and appearing in the Plymouth Evening Herald and also the

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A Dish Best Served Cold national newspapers. Plymouth Evening Herald had the story first with the headline, ‘Four Police Officers Killed in Early Morning Raid’. DI Cooper and DS Monahan looked at the newspapers, with the worst being the Daily Mirror who had a three-page story on the fact that they went in unarmed and without armed backup. “This is going to come up and kick me on the backside hard.” DI Cooper said, wiping his eyes as he realised that he had not had much sleep in the past few days. “Did you get that extension to custody for Tapper?” “Yes, Guv,” DS Monahan replied. “Well you know he didn’t say anything but ‘No Comment’ yesterday. It is probably going to be the same today. But we have 72 hours.” “How is the search for a weapon going?” DS Monahan shook his head and folded his arms as he slouched on the door frame. “Nothing yet. They are ripping the house apart as we speak.” DS Monahan moved from the doorway and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk to his boss. “What time is the debriefing?” “Four o’clock. The teams are currently completing searches of the properties of those who were arrested. Once we have finished, we will get the teams out to the boys who said they were sexually abused and see if they recognise Tapper’s mugshot. Then if we do not find the weapon, we have something else we can charge him with.” “We will have to. We can’t let him roam the streets again.” DS Monahan looked behind him to see the rest of the squad arriving, all looking tired after a

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A Dish Best Served Cold busy day before. “I’ll arrange the teams the same as before when the officers spoke to them before. The families will know them then.” “How are all the victims that were picked up in the raid?” He frowned, trying to remember the numbers found. “What was it? Seven boys, two girls?” “Yes, that’s right. The victims are currently under armed guard in Derriford Hospital.” DS Monahan replied. “On the plus side, we have eleven suspects in custody including Tapper. And don’t forget we have three kilogrammes of Class A.” “And the only one who is going to walk is bloody Tapper unless we get something on him. At the moment, he is just a paedophile.” DS Monahan got up from the chair and moved back towards the door. “Unless one of the kids picked up last night can pick him out as one of the abusers. But we will have to do our best then, Guv.” “Dave. Bring Jason Taylor back in. See if we can get anymore from him.” “Perfect. That’s a great idea.”

The debriefing went well and then DS Dave Monahan, who had already arranged the teams to go out gave the order. They all disappeared with the packs of various photos of Paedophiles and the suspects that were in custody. He and DI Cooper had also tried to interview Danny Tapper once more but were met by a ‘No Comment’ session again, and a request from his Solicitor that if they had nothing to charge him with, he should be released. “Do you want to come with me, Guv?” DI Cooper looked up. “Where are you going?”

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“Jason Taylor. You want him back in.” DI Cooper looked at all the paperwork gathering on his desk and then looked at his diary. “You can go. Go down and see the Sergeant down in uniform to see if he can spare anyone to go with you. “Yes, Guv,” he replied as he walked away and back to his desk. He knew who the duty Sergeant was in uniform today and he was not the most receptive to CID Officers. He could guess that the answer would be that CID already had enough of his uniformed officers, all three of them, on Operation Target. Then there would be the usual argument about who was going to pay for the overtime. DS Monahan decided it wasn’t worth the hassle, so he looked at his list of teams to see who was closest to Stoke Village, where Jason Taylor lived in a flat above the Pasty shop, that could break off and meet him for ten minutes. Team C, he thought to himself, checking their call list. They are operating around Keyham and Devonport. Dave Monahan arranged for them to be there before they went checking on the school victims at midday. He waited outside in his car a few minutes before, waving at a traffic warden who was just about to give him a ticket for parking on double yellow lines. DC’s Baker and Smith arrived and parked in the space behind him. “You just been booked, Serge?” asked DC Smith. DS Monahan laughed. “No. I showed her my badge and told her I would have to arrest her if she booked me.” He watched as DC Baker locked the car and then said, “Come on then. Let us get it over and done with. He is quite timid. Comes across as a nice guy apart from the fact that he likes little girls.” He

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A Dish Best Served Cold approached the door and went to grab the door knocker as there was no bell push present, but the door just opened as he did so. The two detective constables became alert. “What is going on, Serge?” “I don’t know,” he replied, pushing the door a little more and cautiously looking up the stairs to see if there was anything suspect. “Jason? Are you in? It is the Police. DS Monahan. We met last week.” No reply, the place was quiet, although there was a draught coming down the stairs as though the wind was blowing in through the property. He put his back to the wall and walked slowly stair by stair upwards. “Jason?” Then he signalled for the other two to follow him. “He might just not be in,” DC Baker said jokingly. DS Monahan reached the top stair and looked over towards the bedroom which had an open door. “He’s in,” he said rushing into the room. “He’s just not alive.” Jason Taylor looked like he had been killed, with multiple stab wounds showing all over his naked chest and his throat cut, with the blood still oozing out of the wound. “His body is quite fresh because the blood is still flowing out of the stab wounds. He has defence wounds which could indicate that he knew his attacker.” “DC341 to Sierra Oscar.” DC Baker clicked the radio into life. “Sierra Oscar, go ahead.” “I am at the upstairs flat of 42 Devonport Road. Request SOCO as we have a body.” “I’ll call them now, DC341. Sierra Oscar out.”

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“Let’s go down and wait for them,” DS Monahan said, the thoughts going through his mind of why Jason Taylor had been killed just after the raids. Perhaps he had been found out to be a grass. It had to be someone in his circle of so-called friends. Once downstairs, he clicked his radio. “DS Monahan to DI Cooper.” “DI Cooper,” was the almost immediate reply which was usual for the DI. Monahan used to wonder if the DI slept with his radio under his pillow. He was a Police Officer through and through, lived and died it. Even when he holidayed in New York, he had photos of him speaking to the Police Officers in cars and on horses. “Hello, Guv. We arrived for Jason Taylor. He is dead. Murdered by the looks of it. Multiple stab wounds and a cut-throat.” Cooper hesitated, whilst trying to think at the same time. “Oh my God. This is getting more suspicious as we go.” “Yes, I know, Guv. I am going to need Uniform assistance as we are going to have to close the road.” “Okay, call it in.” DS Monahan looked around the village, as though he was searching for inspiration on what to do next. How to approach this. Hurdles were being put in their way by someone, and he would like to know who was pulling the strings because at the moment, his team were the puppets. They were being played. By someone close in the unit who knew their every move, he thought to himself. Without Jason Taylor, their way into the paedophile ring was limited and any information would be hard to get in future. But who knew that Jason was their informant? Well he was

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A Dish Best Served Cold known to be a blabbermouth, so the DI had told him. He would do anything for the Police to get a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Flashing lights from the squad cars arrived in Stoke Village. The Sergeant exited the lead car and headed over towards Monahan. “Dave how are you doing?” he asked, shaking the detective’s hand. “Hi there, Mike,” he replied to the other sergeant. He was glad that it was Sergeant Mike Edwards. They had been at training together when they had joined all those years ago. It had been a long time, as Mike was from Plymouth, but Monahan was not and had only arrived at Plymouth a few years previous. “We have a suspected murder. Multiple stab wounds. We need both ends sealed off at the next exits.” “I’ve beat you to it, Dave,” he replied. “My lads are at either end setting up the roadblocks now as we speak.” Dave Monahan shook his head and smiled. “I should have known you were on the ball.” “Ooops,” his friend perked, nodding towards a white van parking outside the Co-Op next to the other unmarked Police vehicle. “SOCO is here. You had better get to them. Me and the lads are going to clear any members of the public and make the crime scene area visible.” “Thanks, Mike,” DS Monahan said as he turned and walked off towards the van. “We will have to meet for a drink sometime,” he said as he turned back but continued to walk the other way, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. Perhaps it was a stupid idea

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A Dish Best Served Cold to do that, he thought to himself as he regained his balance.

DI Cooper reviewed those in custody, deciding who to charge and for what offense. The victims found in the raid had all identified those arrested as sexual abusers and said that they had brought others in as well. One they had called ‘The Major’, two of the boys had told the interview teams. Another they had overheard saying that he could not be long because he had a cabinet meeting in the morning, which could indicate he was either an MP or Councillor. DI Cooper had instructed his officers to go back to the boy with photographs of all the MP’s and City Councillors. He had, and the boy had picked out Councillor Bryan Pollard. DI Cooper and DS Monahan began to wonder if ‘The Major’ and the Councillor were the same person, because suspect Pollard used to be in the Army.

Two weeks later, DI Cooper was called in by DCI Arrington, whom had instructions from above to end the witch-hunt due to costs and the amount of manpower being used. DCI Arrington had told him that his team had made a ‘significant dent’ in the Paedophiles wings. Twelve, quite senior in the circle, were going down for a long time. Both DS Monahan and DI Cooper began to suspect where the information was being leaked from. Up above.

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Chapter 28

Every parent wants their son or daughter to get married, have children so they can be Gran and Grandad, buy a house and have a good job. So, imagine the disappointment some parents feel when their sibling comes home and admits to being gay. It destroys all the parent’s dreams for that child. They do not want the son or daughter publicising the fact through fear of a backlash from friends, relatives, and neighbours. They do not want to be frowned upon in the community. These class of parents would do everything in their power to try and transform their child back to ‘normal’. Not every parent would be like this. Some stand up and support their gay child all the way, welcome their partners with open arms and will not have a bad word said against them. Forced marriage is something that happens mostly amongst ethnic minorities in Countries like India and South Sudan. They occur when either or both participants have been pressured into the marriage,

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A Dish Best Served Cold without giving their consent usually associated with free will. It is not the same as an arranged marriage, which may have been set up by a relative or friend but has been willingly agreed to by the couple. At the end of the day, you cannot be forced to love someone. It is a recipe for disaster. Just like a Manager telling members of his workforce that they have to work together as a team. There will sometimes be conflict. Some parents are outdated with their views. They still believe in the morals that they were taught by their parents and cannot change their point of view. They are ‘Old School’ and whilst their views are antiquated, they find it extremely hard to change them. They sometimes quote the bible even though they have only ever gone to church for a Christening, wedding, or funeral. They can be on the brink of homophobia, with innuendos and comments or jokes aimed at the gay child, usually to try and make others ridicule them by laughing. Homosexuals have been taken by their parents to get cured by Doctors. In some Countries, Witch Doctors perform rituals on the culprit to relieve them of their evil. Up until 1967, you could be put in prison in the UK just for sleeping with someone of the same sex, a law that was as outdated as the views of some parents, the law dating back to 1533. Life dictates who we are, what we are, who we fall in love with, who we like, who we hate. It cannot dictate whether or not we should be allowed to do these things. Choice is the only thing left in life that is free. Choice is life.

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Quite a lot had happened over the past three years. Stephen was now approaching 20 and was making the most of the last of his teenage years, especially as he had received compensation for the sexual abuse whilst at school from the County Council. The Police Investigation had wrapped up, arresting, and charging many of the Plymouth Paedophiles, two City Councillors, school, and nursery teachers and even a Doctor. They had all received jail sentences ranging from 5 to 15 years. Stephen was glad that was over. There were ongoing investigations about a Senior Police Officer involved in the Paedophile ring by the Department for Police Standards. The Murder Investigation Team had given up on the Blunt’s Lane murder of James Cox. Little evidence was available, although they did link it to Stephen’s assault weeks earlier, but nothing could be proved. They did not realise that Cox was actually one of the culprit’s that assaulted Stephen but thought he was also a victim of crime. It remained a ‘Cold Case’. Stephen received help and was still receiving help for his psychosis and the voices in his head. He had not heard them for some time and the strategies of lots of sleep, avoid stress and getting the dose of the medication correct had worked wonders. Getting better was his priority, and therefore he put relationships on hold and had not seen any guys since Harry three years ago. Stephen had given up on him for the sake of his Sister. Him and Harry being together was wrong, and he began to realise it was wrong.

It was June 1985. Stephen had just got a job with Royal Mail as a Postman. He enjoyed it, even though he had

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A Dish Best Served Cold to work with people inside the sorting office, he was out and about on his own from 7am each morning. It had also helped to control his weight that little bit more with all the walking. But the getting up at 3am to be there by 4am was something that was taking a lot to get used to. He got home one day. His mother knew to expect him about 1230 hrs and was waiting for him. “Hi Mum,” he shouted as he ran up the stairs to change out of the smart regulation uniform. “Stephen, love. Can you come back down when you have changed? We have visitors.” Minutes later, he walked into the living room and saw a woman and what he took to be her daughter. “This is my work colleague Cheryl and her daughter Joanne.” Stephen acknowledged them both with a nod of his head. He hated meeting strangers unless he really had to, and even then, he usually chose not to speak. “Cheryl has invited us over on Saturday for dinner. You can come, can’t you? You haven’t got anything planned?” Katie was hoping that he would attend with her in order that she did not have to go on her own. “Yes, that’s fine,” he replied. “Nice to meet you both,” he said, going back upstairs. He immediately began to think outside the box, knowing that something was unusual about him and Joanne being introduced in this way by his mother. Why were they here in the first place? They had not been here before. He decided not to worry about it, but to tackle it if and when the further introduction was made. Suddenly Stephen heard footsteps on the stairs. He could tell that they were not those of his mother, because she used to

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A Dish Best Served Cold stamp like a herd of elephants. He opened the door a little bit and saw Joanne creeping up the stairs. “If you want the toilet, it’s there,” he directed, pointing at the door opposite his. Although there was a toilet downstairs, so why she had been sent upstairs would have been beyond him if it were not something to do with his mother. “Thanks,” the young girl said going into the toilet. The thing was, she did not really need the toilet, but just wanted an excuse to see Stephen, to see what he was like, was he interesting or funny. She had not got much from him to try and weigh him up with his brief encounter downstairs. She waited a while and then flushed the toilet before releasing the bolt to unlock the door. Joanne then poked her head in his door. Stephen immediately felt slightly violated, mainly because his room was his safe haven, and unless he invited you in, it was only him that was allowed to be in there. What if he were sat on the bed in just his underpants? His mother, knowing his age now, always tapped on the door first and waited for him to reply before walking in. “Just thought I would say hello again,” she said softly and with a lovely smile. Her blond hair reminded Stephen of Tara, although Joanne was slim and petite, probably a size 8, he thought to himself whereas Tara was a 12 and quite muscly for a girl. When Tara thumped you, it was felt. “Hi. We never met properly, did we?” He held out his hand to greet her. “Come in, if you want.” “Thanks,” she replied, looking over at his record collection piled high beside his hi-fi. Stephen was proud of his new hi-fi, because he had saved up the

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A Dish Best Served Cold money for the first time in his life and when he had enough, he bought it outright from his mother’s Catalogue. “You’ve got quite a lot of records.” “I love my music,” he replied. “It’s the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes.” “Who do you like?” She asked, picking one of the records up and reading the back cover for the track listing. “Madness, Bad Manners, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and this new band, The Pet Shop Boys.” He handed her a single seven-inch record. “West End Girls,” she said as she read the label. “Yes, I have heard that one on the radio. It’s quite good.” “Go on then. What is your musical taste?” Stephen asked, expecting something totally the opposite to what he liked. “Oh. I like Madonna, Howard Jones, Prince.” She replied, still reading the record cover. Stephen tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Not bad I suppose.” She rested her bum on the table edge. “So, are you coming to dinner on Saturday then? You are not going to let me down, are you?” He stared at her and smiled. “How could I ever let such a sweet girl down?” “Do the girls ever fall for that?” she asked jokingly. “That is so cheesy!” He shrugged again. “Don’t know. I’ve never tried before.” Joanne slowly edged her way back to the door, then turned and kissed Stephen on the cheek. “Make sure you come.” Then she went back downstairs as

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Stephen continued to look at her. She was beautiful, he thought. But why was he having feelings for a girl for once in his life? He had not had anyone for three years. His life had been free from tension and stress. But he liked boys. Perhaps it was just a lustful feeling. He had been overwhelmed by such a pretty girl who reminded him of Tara. Yes, that was it. He was also afraid that his personality would revert back to when he was ill, hearing voices and becoming violent. But then he told himself that he should not think like that. Remember what the CPN had told him at the counselling sessions. Think positive!

Saturday soon came around, and Stephen and his mother stood at the front door of a wonderful house in Mannamead. Stephen thought it looked more like a mansion. He pressed the button to ring the doorbell and noticed a moving shadow in the window. Joanne opened the door. “Hi! Come in!” She said enthusiastically. She wore a white lacey dress which showed off her minute curves. Stephen was impressed and she could see that in his eyes and his face. She in return eyed him up because he had put his best shirt on, which he hated wearing because he was always a t-shirt person. “Let me take your coats,” the young girl said to them both, not able to take her eyes off the boy. “Thank you, Joanne,” Katie replied. “And I’ve got a nice bottle of wine here. Should go well with dinner. One problem though, I don’t drink alcohol!” “That’s great,” Joanne replied as she hung the coats up on the coat stand. “You will have to forgive

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A Dish Best Served Cold me, but I know little about wine apart from the fact it is either red or white. “Or green,” Stephen jumped in. “In Portugal, they have a green wine. Not sure if they sell it here. I haven’t seen it at Asda.” Suddenly Joanne’s Mother appeared. “Katie, how are you?” “I’m good thank you,” Stephen’s mother replied, glad to see her new friend. “Come this way.” Cheryl started walking down the large hallway towards a giant oak door that was only partly ajar. She looked at her daughter. “Dinner will be about thirty minutes darling. Do you want to show Stephen around?” She nodded and looked at her personal guest. “Come on then.” Stephen followed her up the stairs, an arced piece decorated with crafted figureheads that had been carved out of the wood. “You have a really nice house,” he said, still looking at the girl as she turned around and pointed upwards towards the ceiling. “This is beautiful,” she said. “Stained glass dome in the roof depicting the battle of Trafalgar in 1805.” Stephen stared at the light piercing the glass making it even more outstanding. “It’s lovely.” What he wanted to say was, ‘It’s lovely like you,’ but he just did not have the nerve at that moment in time. Joanne started walking up the stairs a bit more. “My Dad used to love this place. He used to say that after a stressful day, it was the best place to come.” “Used to?” Stephen caught on to the past tense in her conversation.

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“Sorry?” Joanne replied as though she misheard his question. “You said you Dad used to love the house.” She nodded back to him. “Yes. He passed about two years ago now. Left the house to Mum.” “I’m sorry,” Stephen said sympathetically. “I always seem to put my foot in it.” “Shut up!” she said as she smiled and found herself reaching down and grabbing his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest.” Seconds later they were up the top of the stairs and stood in a huge room. “This is my room,” she said. “This is bigger than my whole house,” Stephen replied, amazed by the décor and the size, and the fact that it was her room. He would give an arm and a leg to have a room this big, he thought to himself. She went over and sat on a sofa over by her window and patted the seat next to her indicating for Stephen to sit down as well, which he did. “So how old are you, Stephen?” “Nineteen until August. Then I’m no longer a teenager.” She decided she would rest her legs on his lap. “I’m going to interview you,” she said. “I like to know just who I am being friends with.” “Well you haven’t told me how old you are yet!” Stephen said. “Guess. But just be careful with your judgement,” Joanne laughed. She started moving her feet around his crotch area, rubbing her feet on his trousers. He laughed, looked at her, and then stated, “Oh I guess you are about fifteen!”

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Joanne kicked him in a friendly way. “Oi you! I am actually a little bit older than you! My birthday is the end of July, and I will no longer be a teenager!” “Really?” “Yes, really!” she said as she grimaced in fun at him and repeated the kick. “Well you look younger. You are beautiful.” Stephen was beginning to wonder if he actually liked this girl. He had been confused before when he and Tara slept together. But this was different. He had those same butterflies in his stomach that he had when he first met Mark. Perhaps he was bisexual? Joanne liked the compliment. “You think I am beautiful?” “Yes,” he replied nervously. Suddenly she leaned over and kissed him on the lips, and Stephen responded. Breaking away from the embrace, she said, “Well you ain’t too bad yourself,” before kissing him again and then moving back to look in his eyes. “You can always tell if a guy is interested in you by his eyes.” Stephen look confused, thinking that he hadn’t heard that said before. “How can you tell that?” “If a guy keeps his eyes open during a kiss, he is not only tasting your love but admiring the beauty of the love as well.” He raised his eyebrows and forehead. “Wow. That is pretty deep thinking. So how do you tell if the guy is blind then?” He smirked and received a thump on the arm for his fun comment. “You have to spoil it!” she said with a huge smile on her face. Then she went in for another kiss, grabbed his hand, and placed it on her left breast and then with

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A Dish Best Served Cold the same hand going down to search for his penis. He was getting hard; she could feel it as he grabbed her breast. Suddenly he stopped. “This isn’t going to look too good if we go down for dinner and I have an erection and you have erect nipples!” Time to cool it off, he thought to himself. Afterall he had only just really met her. “But how about I take you out sometime?” Joanne smiled and responded excitingly, “Yes! I’d like that!” “Come on, we had better go down for dinner. I’ll show you around quickly on the way.” After he quick tour, she led him into the dining room, which Stephen also thought was bigger than his bedroom, in fact most of the rooms were bigger than his bedroom. The table had been laid ready for the meal. The table was long and contained places for about sixteen people if fully utilised, but the placings for tonight had been set near the entrance to the kitchen. Joanne’s Mum, Cheryl, suddenly burst through the swing door carrying a pot which she placed in the middle of the four-place party placings. Katie followed her through the door carrying serving plates of vegetables and did the same by placing them on the heat mats. “Did you show Stephen around?” Cheryl asked her daughter, watching the sparkle in her eyes. “Yes,” she replied, knowing she had only shown him the one room, but did not care because she had made the first steps towards a possible boyfriend. Katie sat down and was followed by Cheryl and then the two youngsters. “You two seem to be getting on well.”

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Stephen looked at his mother, thinking, this was planned. Anything to stop him wanting to be with guys. He managed a smile with his serious eyes, as if to confirm that they were actually getting on well. But then, he got on well with Tara, but it did not mean that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. All a relationship with a girl would do is make his life a lie. He would have a beautiful girl on his arm just for the sake of having a beautiful girl on his arm. Could he actually love a girl? “The rooms are beautiful,” Stephen replied. “It’s a really big place. Joanne’s closet is bigger than my room.” “That is all he has been saying,” Joanne said. “Right,” said Cheryl. “Let us eat. I’ll be the waiter! Enjoy people!”

After the meal, the two mothers left the youngster’s and went into the lounge, which was just as beautiful as the rest of the house with leather studded sofas and chairs, built in bookcases filled with uniformly placed books, and cabinet enclosed silverware. “Those two seem to have hit it off,” Cheryl said, taking a sip of her wine. “Yes. I’m a bit surprised because Stephen has had a hard time of things in recent years.” Katie was thinking what she could actually say without looking like a bad parent, or painting Stephen out to be undatable. “I’m not sure if you read about the teacher who was sexually abusing pupils at his school a few years back?” “I did,” Cheryl replied, placing her wine glass back on the coffee table in front of her. “That was a

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A Dish Best Served Cold terrible thing! It comes to something when you can’t even trust teachers.” Katie shook her head. “Stephen was one of those that was raped. Please keep it to yourself. He hates talking about it.” “Oh my God. How traumatic for him! Is he ok now?” Katie tilted her hand. “Sort of. It’s never going to go away.” “I can understand that.” “The worst thing was, he was going through the stress of having his teacher touch him, and I wasn’t there, because I thought everything was alright.” She shook her head with a saddened face. Usually she was the hardball, the unofficial Matron on her ward. This was probably the first person she had openly talked to about it. “Katie, believe me,” Cheryl said, grabbing her hand in support. “You can’t blame yourself. Kids have a way of keeping things to themselves as well. Somethings are better left in the past. You need to look forward. It looks like Stephen has. I really need Joanne to move on. She has not been the same since her Dad died. She was Daddy’s girl. If mum said no, Daddy always said yes.” “Oh, I’m sorry. There is me going on about my problems, and you have problems of your own.” Katie felt awkward for a moment. “Don’t worry. These things happen. People live and people die. We can’t change that,” Cheryl said, reaching back down for her glass of wine. “It’s Joanne that has been affected the most.”

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“Perhaps the two of them will be good for each other,” Katie said, with deep hope in her heart that the two would get it together. “Hey, I had better get home. I have the 7am shift in the morning!” Cheryl looked at her watch. “Look at the time! Nearly 11pm. I’ll get your coat and call those two down.” She watched as Katie drank the last of her coffee, and then stood up to follow her out to the hallway. The leather had attached itself to Katie’s lower legs where her skirt ended, and the sucking noise became loud as she pulled away. “Joanne, Stephen. Come on down, sweetheart. Katie has to take him home.” The two appeared moments later at the top of the stairs, both with a flustered look on their faces, making Cheryl guess what the two had been up to. Joanne was smiling, and Stephen’s shirt was now untucked from his trousers. She decided to say nothing as her daughter passed her with a cheeky grin on her face.

The drive home was silent at first as Stephen was thinking of what he was getting himself into. He really liked Joanne, and it was obvious she liked him. But what if she found out about his past, with the psychosis and the voices, and the rape. Would she still feel the same? Katie, meanwhile, was as happy as she could be having seen Stephen kiss Joanne on the cheek and promise to telephone her over the next few days. That means they had swapped telephone numbers at least. Perhaps things were on the up for him, she thought to herself. They seemed like a nice family as well which

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A Dish Best Served Cold would help. It was early days. They had only just met. Time would tell, she told herself.

Time did tell. They had been out together several times, although Stephen did not appear overly happy, but Katie put this down to the reminders of what had happened in the past. She knew that he had trust issues and Stephen had told her that he had discussed these with the CPN at his counselling sessions for his psychosis. She also thought that he was at last beginning to tell her things. Joanne was quite infatuated with her man and hardly stopped talking about him and where he had taken her. They had even been to a Madness Gig together which is something that she would have never considered before meeting him, and probably something that Stephen wouldn’t have considered because of the crowds. She was also quite concerned that he had not made a move to sleep with her as yet but put this down to the respect he had for her. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make the first move? She considered that a possibility. Inside Stephen was feeling stressed again. He was still confused about life. About where he was going with Joanne, and his sexuality. He often thought about Harry who he still saw, but in a family surrounding. He often thought about Mark and wondered if they would still be together even now if they had made a go of things after Stephen left school. He still had his gay pornography magazines hidden in his room and looked at them regularly. He told himself that he liked Joanne and loved her, but as a friend, just as he had done with Tara. His mother was trying to put them together and

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A Dish Best Served Cold had even mentioned to him that ‘That’s the girl I think you will marry,’ in conversation. She had also gone against her own morals and announced that Joanne could ‘sleep over with him if she wanted’ which he was not sure whether or not it was going against her morals that were previously no sex before marriage. She had even refused profusely for Mark to sleep over when he had asked once. Finally, they did sleep together for the first time but at Joanne’s house, because her mother was more open minded about things than his. Stephen knew that deep inside she would be resenting the fact that he had a girl in his room, especially in the same bed and overnight. Two teenagers, what they would be up to? Stephen’s room was right next to his mother’s room as well, which did not give him much privacy as the walls were very thin. Joanne’s bedroom was at least up the hallway from her mother’s. He could not believe that he had a nice girl, who really wanted him. He could feel inside that the feeling was becoming mutual as they hugged together under the duvet after the fourth love making session in one night. Stephen actually felt safe in her arms, and no doubt the feeling was mutual. But he knew he was going to let her down.

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Chapter 29

Every life comes to an end. It does not matter what age. Some are taken because of medical reasons and diseases that cannot be cured. Others may be in road accidents, train crashes or air disasters. The list is endless. The recipients of the end of life may feel pain up until the point that their body gives up. But those who are left to mourn, family, friends and those that knew the deceased also feel the pain in their hearts. Many medical professionals do not believe in a broken heart. Many will link it to the stress caused by the situation. Emotional stress, either current or things that have happened in the past can cause the heart to be ‘broken’. Emotions play a huge part in life. They both shape your life, end your life, and sometimes destroy your world. It could be any one of the known seventy- seven emotions that have won over your life. Parent’s, if they know that they are dying for some reason or another, usually take extreme measure to make sure their loved ones are cared for in their absence. Perhaps they have had enough of things

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A Dish Best Served Cold happening to them over and over again and feel that life just is not worth it anymore. The world cannot escape stress either at a personal level or as a group, national or international. It is there. The more that happens, the more the world suffers. Most mothers will insist that their sons and daughters are settled in life if they are at an age where they can, or if they are too young, they will arrange for someone to be there for them when the time actually arrives. Older couples, if one passes, it is usually not long before the other dies of that broken heart. Are you more likely to have problems if the stress takes hold of you at a young age? Having the support around you to cope with whatever emotional problems experienced is a bonus. No one can take away the hurt or pain. It will never go away but lie dormant in the corner of your brain until the emotions raise it, like a vampire sleeping all day and there ready to bite when the darkness comes. The pessimist amongst us will say ‘When your times up, your times up.’ Life causes the emotions that give us life and life provides the emotions throughout to take it away. There is only one outcome. And that is guaranteed to happen. There is no escaping it. Death is only the beginning. Katie was walking up Langdale Gardens pushing the pram. Vicky and Harry had the baby and decided to visit Katie with her. They had named her Danielle Louise and the proud Grandmother could not resist spoiling her first Grandchild. Vicky was not happy with her mother pushing the large heavy pram and had asked her if she wanted Harry to push it several times. She knew her mother had already been diagnosed with

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Myxoedema, which was affecting her thyroid, but her mother just would not give up the task because she wanted to look like the proud Grandmother in front of anyone she knew. They reached Asda. “Are you sure you are alright, Mum?” Vicky asked concerningly. “You look a bit red in the face and peaky.” Katie was stubborn and never admitted defeat. In fact, she never admitted to feeling ill at any time and only found out about the Myxoedema when she was talking to one of the junior Doctors on her ward and he mentioned he thought her glands were swollen and he insisted on one of his colleagues look at her. “I’m fine, love,” Katie replied. “Nothing a good cup of coffee won’t put right.” She did not mention the feeling of indigestion in her chest, or the ache in her left arm that had been gathering for some time. She knew what it was, having seen it several times in the hospital. But she kept going, becoming breathless and her face was glowing. Suddenly she grabbed her chest and appeared like she could not breathe and was gasping for air. Then she fell to the floor. “Mum!” Vicky screamed as one of the other customers raced over to see the lady. “Call an ambulance!” he shouted to Harry and Vicky. “NOW!” Two staff members turned up as Harry ran over to the Customer Service Desk to get them to phone for assistance. “What’s her name?” “Katie,” Vicky replied. “Katie Bishop. What is wrong? What is happening?” The stranger did not reply as he started performing CPR on her chest. The two staff members controlled the crowd that was gathering and moved

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A Dish Best Served Cold them on shouting that there was nothing to see. “Katie, can you hear me?” The stranger shouted to his patient whilst continuing the rhythm on her chest. “Come on! Breathe!” Vicky became distraught but was joined by Harry. “The ambulance is on its way,” he said. Within minutes, they arrived with a mobile stretcher and took over from the stranger, who introduced himself. “Staff Nurse Mike Cooksley. It looks like she has had a heart attack,” he stated to the paramedics. “Do you need any help?” “Intermittent mouth to mouth?” Mike Cooksley got back down on his knees and cleared Katie’s airway, tilting her head back and checking her throat was clear before commencing mouth to mouth resuscitation on the woman. As he stopped, the Paramedic continued with compressions on her chest. The second paramedic took her pulse. “We have a heartbeat,” he said. “Let’s get her to hospital!” With that, the three men lifted her onto the stretcher and wheeled her out to the waiting ambulance. They were closely followed by Vicky, Harry, and Mike Cooksley. “You go with her, Vicky. I’ll follow you in the car and drop the baby off to my mum beforehand,” Harry shouted at her. Vicky looked at her husband as the paramedics were closing the rear doors on the ambulance, “Okay!” She managed to say as the lock was sealed inside. The ambulance sped away and ten minutes later stopped in the A&E car park. The two staff raced her into the emergency department, and talked to the staff in the department, informing them what they had

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A Dish Best Served Cold done, giving her adrenaline, CPR and mouth to mouth at the scene, and also aspirin to thin the blood flow to the heart as a heart attack was suspected. The A&E staff whisked her away quickly into an area where Vicky heard them call ‘Crash’. She tried to follow but was pushed away and told to give the staff room. She waited ten minutes and then decided to try and get in contact with her sister and brother. Finding a payphone in reception she telephoned Rachel at work to give her the bad news, and then rang Joanne’s house for Stephen but was told by Cheryl that he and her daughter were out, probably at the cinema. Rachel said she would be there soon and welcomed a lift from the senior partner at the Solicitors where she worked near Stephen’s old school some five miles from the hospital. It was not long before Rachel was there thanks to her boss, and Vicky met her in the reception, and they walked through to the bay where they had put their mother but were still kept distant by one of the nurses. All they could hear were instructional voices and beeping machines. Finally, they were told that they could see their mother. Rachel was shocked as Vicky pulled back the curtain slightly so they could get to see her. There were several machines around her, connected to her with many wires, and an air mask over her nose and mouth. The positive thing was that she was now breathing, although she was looking terribly ill with a pale complexion and was finding it hard to breath. “I’m afraid your mother has had a myocardial infarction,” the voice said from behind. “Hello, I am Doctor Somerville, Consultant Cardiologist here at the

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A Dish Best Served Cold hospital.” He shook both of the girl’s hands. “Known better as a heart attack.” “But she is going to be alright, Doctor?” Vicky asked worryingly. “She will pull through?” “We are hoping so. We will transfer her to one of the cardiology wards where we can monitor her a bit better.” “So, what causes a myo … heart attack? Is her heart ok?” Rachel asked. She had heard of people having them before but had never actually looked at the bigger picture. The Doctor moved closer to the patient and started looking at the monitor for readings which at that point only he understood, although Vicky and Rachel probably could guess that one was her heart rate. “It could be caused by a variety of things of which we have to investigate further whilst she is on the ward. Stress, eating the wrong foods, being overweight, smoking. The list is endless. The arteries in the heart can clog up and prevent the heart muscle from operating to full capacity.” Both Vicky and Rachel looked at him, pretending to understand what he was telling them, but in reality, struggling to take it in. “Right, I will get the transfer to the ward organised. Try not to worry. She is in the right place.” The Doctor passed them both and left walking towards the A&E control desk. “You hear that, Mum? You are going to be ok,” Vicky said to her concerningly. Katie just opened and closed her eyes, feeling groggy from all the pounding on her chest and

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A Dish Best Served Cold emergency treatment both where she fell at the superstore and when she arrived in the hospital.

Stephen and Joanne were laughing as they arrived at her house. Cheryl met them at the door with her coat and car keys in hand. “Where have you been?” “Cinema,” Joanne replied. “Why?” “Get in the car. Stephen your mum has had a heart attack and is in hospital!” He and Joanne got into the back of the car as Joanne’s mother started the car and headed out of their driveway. “Your sister called me about two hours ago!” “Is Mum okay?” Stephen asked, worriedly as Joanne held his hand and tightened her grip to comfort him. Her mother tutted several times. “Bloody traffic!” She said as she checked her wing mirrors to see if she could change lanes to avoid the queue in the inside lane at Manadon. “Sorry love. I don’t know, I just took the message that she had a heart attack and they wondered where you were.” Cheryl pulled out into the outer lane that was moving a bit faster and got through the next set of traffic lights and headed up towards the hospital. “I’m sure she will be well cared for.” This had put an announcement on hold for Stephen and Joanne. She had sat him down earlier in the café where they had something to eat and drink before the film, and told him that she had missed her period, and she never missed her period. She also recalled that they did not use protection on the night he had stayed over, and they had sex many times that night. They were going to have a test done, and Joanne had bought one at the chemist before they returned

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A Dish Best Served Cold home. But any announcement if the test were positive would have to wait. Stephen did not need the additional stress at this moment in time. They reached the hospital and Cheryl pulled up outside the A&E department. “Give me a call when you need picking up. I’ll be at home,” she said as the two got out of the car. “Thanks, Mum,” Joanne replied. “Yes, thank you. I owe you one,” Stephen added as he headed towards the entrance. Joanne followed him. As he approached the reception desk, Harry, who was sat in the reception area, saw them. “Stephen!” he called out. “Over here!” He waved his hand to add to the attention. Stephen left the queue for the reception and went over to him, and they hugged like two best mates. “This is my girlfriend, Joanne,” he said as he introduced the girl. “This is Harry, my sister Vicky’s husband.” The two shook hands. “What happened?” Stephen asked, changing the subject quickly. “We were in Asda and your Mum suddenly went quite pale. Next thing we know she was grasping her chest.” “Do you know how she is?” Stephen asked, wondering if he had an update on his mum. “No, I’m waiting for Vicky to come out now. Only direct relatives are allowed in,” Harry replied, nodding towards the entrance. “I will go and queue at reception. But Joanne is coming with me,” Stephen exclaimed. “I need her there.” He left Harry, who sat back down to wait for his wife to come back and see him. Stephen then waited

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A Dish Best Served Cold in the queue of four for the receptionist to go through the line until it was his turn. “Hello, I believe you have my mother in here. Katie Bishop? I’ve been told she had a heart attack.” Stephen leaned on the top tier of the two-tier reception desk and peered over as though he wanted to see what the woman could see as she checked the records. He could not see anything, but it was worth the try. The receptionist tapped her finger on the book. “She is in cubicle seven at the moment. Through on the right-hand side.” “Thank you,” he commented as he led his girlfriend by the hand and disappeared up the corridor, expecting the receptionist to say something about Joanne going in as well, but she did not even flinch because she was too busy to worry about who was a relative and who wasn’t. He then looked for cubicle seven and put his head around the curtain to check that it was the right one. He thought it was because he could hear his two sisters rabbiting on behind the curtain. “Where the hell have you been?” Rachel stormed viciously, instantly showing her dislike of her gay brother. “First thing you have said to me in years. I’d like you to meet Joanne,” he said, hoping that her appearance would cure the animosity for the time being. “We were at the cinema and therefore unreachable when it happened.” Vicky smiled at her brother and tried to break the ice between him and his sister. “Well he’s here now. That’s all that matters.”

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“So, how is she?” he asked, wanting to get an update on his mother. “What have the doctors said?” Rachel was giving him the evil eye especially as he had brought his ‘girlfriend’ to the hospital. He tried not to receive the eye contact from her by looking at his mother in the bed, and then grabbing Joanne’s hand tightly to gain support. But Rachel did not speak. Vicky leaned over her mother, and said, “She is going to be in hospital for a while. They will do tests to find out what caused the heart attack.” “Well that’s good,” he replied. “How the hell can that be good,” snapped Rachel. “I’m not here for an argument, dear sister. If you want one of them, we can do it at home. Right now, I am here for Mum, and so should you be!” He was there to put paid to anything that was coming his way, and knew he had support from one sister as Vicky had smirked at him as he snapped his last comment. He could not believe Rachel’s attitude towards him, especially in front of Joanne, who obviously must feel awkward, he thought to himself. He looked at her to give her some reassurance. He had not told her, for obvious reasons, the reason for the lack of compassion between him and Rachel. “By the way, Vicky. Harry is in reception. We saw him, didn’t we, babes?” Joanne nodded and then said, “Yes.” She looked at Stephen. “Do you want me to go and sit with him? It would probably be better for you to be able to talk with your family.” “If you want to,” he replied lovingly. “Don’t feel that you have to though.”

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She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “I’ll meet you in reception,” before going back down the corridor. Stephen smiled and kept looking at her until he could not see her anymore. “Does she know that you are gay?” Rachel snapped. He did not reply, deciding to treat that comment with the contempt it deserved. “They are just waiting for a bed on a ward in order that they can start doing the tests they need to do,” Vicky told him. “Then we can work on getting her better.” “She will need to slow down,” Stephen replied. “You know what she is like, Vicky. If she wants to do something, she will do it.” Like letting her push the pram up that big hill, Vicky!” Vicky looked at her sister angrily. “You know, I agree with Stephen. If you have not got the intention of being here for Mum, best that you leave. The three of us need to stand together at the moment.” “Fine!” Rachel threw her handbag strap over her shoulder and stormed out. Stephen went to stop her, but Vicky grabbed his sleeve and said, “It’s fine. Let her go. She is obviously in the mood for a fight.” He shook his head in disgust. Why couldn’t she just get over the past? It’s happened and you can’t change it. He had learned that at the sessions with his CPN. Suddenly two burly men appeared, brushing past him and heading into his mother’s cubicle, one of them pulling back the curtain. Seconds later, one of the nurses arrived as well.

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“Hi there. We have a bed for Mrs Bishop in Braunton Ward, so she is about to be transferred up there now,” the nurse said with urgency and authority in her voice. “You may want to give them time to get her settled and then visit a bit later.” The nurse knew that sometimes relatives, however much they are concerned for the patient that they know, just burden the staff by getting in the way. The porters started to move the bed, and the nurse grabbed the mobile monitor which was still attached to Katie. “Thanks, Nurse. We will go for a coffee,” Vicky said pleasantly. “Level 7. Better coffee in that restaurant!” She replied as she exited the cubicle with their mother. “That’s good. Thank you.” She looked at Stephen. “We will get Harry and Joanne and go up for a break.” “Good idea,” the boy replied. “My throat is a bit dry.”

Stephen and Vicky collected Harry and Joanne from the reception area and told them what was happening. There was no sign of Rachel, although Harry commented that he had seen her storm out of the main entrance. “Is the other sister always like that to you?” Joanne asked as they made their way to the restaurant. Before Stephen could answer, Vicky interrupted, “Well they never used to be. They used to be inseparable. I used to be the black sheep of the family.”

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“What happened between you and her then, babes?” Joanne wanted to know why the family was divided. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.” Stephen knew he had to change the subject, and change it soon, rather than get the third degree from his girlfriend. He did not know what her reaction would be if she ever found out, and now they could be having a baby together, he did not want to destroy her world. She would need him if she were pregnant, and he needed her to get through life. There was no reason why she had to know the truth about his past. Joanne was not going to give up. “How long have you and Stephen been speaking again then Vicky?” The women were talking like two gossip queens as Joanne found out that it was only recently that Vicky and Stephen had got on, Vicky had grown up a bit and how she used to hate him as a child. Vicky was sensible enough not to mention the gay thing he had with Mark in his early teens, and she knew that Stephen was on tenterhooks all the time that they were talking. Stephen moved over beside Harry whilst they walked. He still fancied the older guy and something in his stomach still wanted them to be together, even though Harry was now married to his sister with a child keeping them together. In addition, Stephen had a girlfriend. He did not know which way to turn sometimes, and he could not think a lot of the time. The people who used to take the mickey of him both at school and around his neighbourhood, often referring to him as ‘weird’, were now laughing on the other side of their faces, because he had Joanne, blonde and

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A Dish Best Served Cold beautiful. In some ways he felt she was out of his league. Harry was sat next to him at the table whilst Vicky and Joanne went to get the refreshments. “So how have you been these days?” “Up and down. Some days are better than others,” Stephen replied trying not to make eye contact in case he fell in love again with him. “You haven’t been down to see us much recently.” “I’ve been busy with Joanne and work. Time just flies.” He still looked away from the man. “You are married to my sister now.” “And how are you coping with a girlfriend?” Harry asked, touching his arm to try and grab his attention.” “How are you coping with a wife?” Stephen retorted sarcastically. “Harry, you fucked me several times and that was it. I fell in love with you.” The couple on the table behind them obviously overheard the conversation as they decided to swap tables and go elsewhere. Harry turned his head and chuckled as they headed over towards the other side of the restaurant. “I know, I know.” Harry took his hand away as he noticed the girls heading back to the table. “I’m sorry.” Vicky placed the tray down on the table. “We had better drink this and then get back up to see Mum.” She looked at the two boys. “Got you two a sandwich each. Joanne thought you were both looking like you hadn’t eaten!” “I’m too good to him sometimes,” Joanne said jokingly, reaching out to hold his hand, to which he

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A Dish Best Served Cold responded by meeting her halfway with his and smiling at her, winking his eye, and playing footsie under the table. She put her toes on his crotch and wiggled them. Vicky saw them playing around. “Young love,” she said. “Will you two get a room! Listen, being serious, things will now have to change. We will need to help Mum as much as possible.” She sipped her drink and then leaned over and grabbed a piece of Harry’s sandwich. “You will get to know this, Stephen,” Harry said, amazed by his wife’s action. “They say that they are not hungry in any way, and then nick your chips!” “She can have my chips anytime she wants,” Stephen replied as he looked at his girlfriend. “Oh God,” Harry replied. “Love. I think I’m going to be sick.” He laughed as his wife smacked his hand. “You! We are in love!” “Only when Argyle win,” he laughed, and was joined by the two youngsters. “But seriously, I agree with the Vickster. We are going to bend over backwards to help Mum from now on. Stephen nodded in agreement. Vicky looked at her watch. “Look at the time. Come on you lot. Finish your sandwich and coffee. We had better go upstairs.”

Braunton ward was limited to three relatives per bed for visiting, so Harry and Joanne went into the day room whilst Vicky and Stephen went into the room directed by the nurse on reception. They saw a familiar face stood at her mother’s bedside. “Have you calmed down now?” Vicky asked her sister as she stood beside her without being noticed.

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She wanted to say more to Rachel but felt that this was not the time or the place. Rachel looked at her. “Yes. I’m here for mum, nothing else.” She looked across at her brother who had slipped in the cubicle on the other side of the bed. He looked back, showing her that he was not afraid of her bullying attitude, but he did have it in his mind that she was going to blow the gun on his homosexuality to Joanne. It would be just the sort of thing she would do to get her own back. But he was bigger than that. He would not react to anything she had in store. All three of them looked at their mother who was semi-conscious, obviously feeling the effect of the heart attack hours earlier. “We are here, Mum,” Rachel said softly. “All three of us, Vicky, Stephen and me.” Their mother appeared to be drifting in and out of reality, her eyes opening and closing randomly throughout. Stephen looked at Vicky. “What’s wrong with her eyes?” “It’s probably the medication that they have given her. Making her drowsy. They have to control her heart rhythms.” Vicky touched her mother’s hand and felt the reflex as her fingers grabbed Vicky’s hand, but would not let go, so Vicky kept it there for the time being. At least there was some movement from her, and going by the strength of the grip, Katie still had her muscle, which she normally used to lift her geriatric patients. “We are going to have to work something out for when she comes home,” Rachel said. “I know Stephen lives with Mum, but he can’t be responsible 24/7 for her.”

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Stephen was instantly shocked at his sister. The first thoughtful thing she had said about him in years, although when he thought some more about it, she probably meant that he was not capable of looking after his mum. He smirked but kept his feeling inside him. He was not giving her the opportunity to get him uptight and show himself up, especially in front of his girlfriend. Vicky knew what her sister was getting at as well, so thought she would end any potential argument before it started. “Yes, we discussed that downstairs whilst having a drink. We can sort that out later. She isn’t going to be discharged anytime soon.” Silence filled the room as the three of them just stood looking at their mother waiting for her to say something. She did not.

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Chapter 30

Families are strange. Someone once said, ‘God gave us our relations, thank God we can choose our friends.’ How some people think that is true? Some children lose the love of their parents and never speak to them or attempt to contact them again. You hear of celebrities who earn millions of pounds every year whilst their parents become desolate and then the celebrities are hounded by the press. Brothers and Sisters have arguments and go their separate ways, some never ever having contact in their lives ever again. Both could be invited to family occasions, but one will give the excuse that if the other is going, then they will stay away. When a marriage comes along between two lovers, the approval of the parents on either side can be a long time coming. Sometimes a mother or father on either side will do their utmost best to split the couple before the wedding plans are ready to take shape.

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Funerals usually bring together the extended family who are little known to most of the close family, but it comes to light that the brother and sister relationship may go a lot deeper, becoming slightly hereditary that your parents have done the same as you and fallen out with a sibling. Being in a family is very emotional and is controlled on day one by a mixture of one’s traits and emotions. Gratitude is considered one of the most accessible positive emotions with effects that strengthen friendships and intimate relationships. But how many of a person’s direct family actually are grateful for what you have done for them? They think that because you are related, you have a duty to do whatever for them and without any love. Tension can be caused between direct and indirect family members because of something someone in the family has done that does not go with the norm of life, causing quarrels and differences between the parents, or brothers and sisters, and even Aunts and Uncles. So many emotions come to light, some of which are abusive to one of the parties involved. Emotional abuse can force the family member to go down the wrong road and become detached from those he or she may have once loved. Life is full of emotions.

Katie was in hospital for eleven days before being allowed home with strict instructions not to do anything strenuous because the heart attack could have been caused by stress. She had been told that her heart was not in good shape, the MRI scan had shown that life had been cruel to her, even though she didn’t smoke

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A Dish Best Served Cold or didn’t drink, the pain that she had felt on many an occasion had been too much to bear. On top of this, the medication that she had been taking for her Myxoedema had been increasing her heart rate and left ventricular contractility, which is where they had noticed the damage on the MRI. She had also informed her three children that she had been getting breathless and having pains in her left arm for some time, but thought it was something to do with the Myxoedema. None of them were impressed that she had not mentioned something. She was now 52 years old, which is no age. Stephen made sure that someone was there all the time if he was not there, with Vicky and Rachel covering, Uncle Richard and Auntie Jill, who had visited her several times in hospital, coming down now and again to see her and even cooking for her whilst making sure she rested. Even the next-door neighbour Julie Sandercock came to see her regularly, and sent one of her three boys, Justin, Damian, and Jodie, who Katie had adored since they moved in, to check if she needed any shopping at Asda. If any one of them caught her doing something she should not be, like lifting heavy objects, they stopped her. She had to rest. Joanne had done the pregnancy test and it read positive. She had discussed with Stephen the best way to tell their mothers, knowing that her mother would not be at all happy, and would probably suggest an abortion. Stephen, on the other hand, knew that his mother had always wanted a grandson, which is why she dotted on the three boys next door. She always wanted a bloodline in carrying on the Bishop name. The good thing was that both Stephen and Joanne

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A Dish Best Served Cold wanted to keep the baby, as both did not believe in abortion unless it was absolutely necessary. The first to tell would be Katie. Stephen and Joanne sat down beside her as she watched her favourite programme ‘Bullseye’ on television. “How are you feeling, Mum?” Stephen asked concerningly and wondering if she needed anything done in the house. Katie looked at him. He had that childish guilty look on his face which she knew from since he was a young child. “What have you been up to?” “Well, prepare yourself, Mum, and don’t have another heart attack when we tell you,” Stephen said nervously but also trying to enlighten the situation with a bit of humour. “You are going to be a Grandma again.” “You bloody fool. That will not kill me! I might finally get my Grandson then! I’ll have to start knitting some baby coats!” Katie unexpectedly had a big smile on her face as she reached over to her ottoman and looked at her supply of wool. Stephen jokingly wiped his head and looked at his girlfriend. “Well that went easier than I thought,” he said. He grabbed her hand. “So, we will need you to get better, Mum, and do what the Doctor’s tell you.” “Oh, I’m alright,” she said. “Even better now!” Joanne smiled as she realised that there was no negativity from her boyfriend’s side at the moment. They had got the matriarch of the family on their side. “Well, you had better start thinking of some names as well. We will need suggestions!”

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Katie liked Joanne. Especially as she was being involved in baby things from day one by the looks of it. “Oh, this is exciting. When is the baby due?” “Early August, I have calculated,” the girl replied. “Have you told your mum yet?” Katie asked, wondering if she should talk babies with the girl’s mother.” Stephen raised his eyebrows, “Not yet. You were the first to know. Well apart from me and Joanne obviously!” “We are going to wait until Vicky comes over to look after you and then go and tell her.” Joanne began to look worried, a stressful frown appearing as the thought of just telling her mother was going to lead into an argument. “I guess from that face that she isn’t going to be that impressed?” Katie looked at the pair of them. “Well just remember, I am not the only one who needs to take it easy now. You have to look after yourself as well!” “I know I do,” Stephen joked, smiling at his girlfriend. “It’s going to be stressful for me!” “Not you, bloody fool!” Katie replied to him, knowing his humour was because of the excitement of being a Dad. She also knew that he would be a better Dad than the one he had.

Vicky had arrived and her mother had told her the news before Stephen or Joanne could open their mouths. Vicky was overjoyed and said that she had lots of baby things that they could have. The two then managed to escape and make their way back to Joanne’s house. They stood outside for a while before going in.

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“Hi, Mum!” Joanne shouted, thinking that her mother would be in the lounge watching TV at this particular time. She was home because her car was outside. They took off their coats and hung them on the coat stand in the hallway and then Stephen followed Joanne into the lounge. No sign of her mother, but the television was on, and playing to itself. “She is home. Either that or she has walked down to the shop.” Cheryl appeared on the stairs. “Have you two got something that you want to tell me?” she asked sternly as she held up the pregnancy test that Joanne had taken. “I found this in the bin in the bathroom!” “Well you already know, then!” Joanne snapped back as her mother continued to walk towards them and towards the lounge doorway. “I can’t say I am happy about it,” she said as she walked past them both, not even bothering to acknowledge Stephen. “You haven’t known him long!” “Excuse me,” Stephen said. “I am here, you know.” “Not for long,” Cheryl snapped at him, her face showing anger. “You are not welcome here anymore.” “Mum! He is the father’s baby and my boyfriend. Just the fact that he hasn’t ran out the door and left me to be a single parent shows what a good guy he is.” Joanne could feel herself getting angry. “I am nineteen and old enough to make my own decisions.” “You are far too young to have a baby. You need to concentrate on your career.” “Get used to it. I’m having this baby, with or without your support!” Joanne snapped back.

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“Then you will have to get your own place. You have that baby and you are not welcome here either.” “Fine!” the girl retorted angrily. “Come on, babe. Let us go.” “Hold on,” Stephen replied, turning back around to face Cheryl. “One day you will regret turning your back on your daughter. Believe me, I speak from experience. With you being a nurse, I would have thought that your view would have been totally the opposite and you would have supported your daughter. You are obviously not overjoyed at the fact of becoming a grandparent.” Joanne ran upstairs and packed some clothes in her rucksack for the morning. Stephen stared at her mother constantly whilst she was gone, which made Cheryl feel uneasy. He did not say any more to her. Just stared with those haunting eyes which, even though not blackened, were as frightening as the eyes his family had seen him with when he was in hospital. “Don’t look at me like that!” Cheryl demanded, casually looking over intermittently to check if he was still staring at her. “Get out of my house now! I will call the Police if you don’t!” Stephen knew that he could do without any Police involvement, but then he heard Joanne coming back down the stairs, so he quickly turned and met her in the hallway. “Come on, babes. Let us go. Let things calm down.” He took her bag from her and swung it over his shoulder, not wanting her to carry anything heavy now she was expecting.

They made their way back to his house, and Katie was pleased to see the pair of them. Vicky was glad that

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A Dish Best Served Cold they had returned as well. She wanted to go home with Danielle to get her ready for bed. He made his mother, Joanne, and himself a hot drink and they all sat down. “I guess your mother didn’t take it very well then?” Katie asked, not at all surprised that they had returned, although she thought that it would only be her son that came back. “Not at all,” Joanne said sadly. “Hopefully, she will at some point.” “She has banned me from going around there,” Stephen said shaking his head and then taking a sip of his drink.” “Would you like me to give her a call and try and calm things down?” Katie was thinking of the best way to handle the situation. She did not want to interfere in a relationship or any difficulties that came with it. But she also did not want to see the animosity between a mother and her child, as she had seen enough of that on a personal level. Stephen and Joanne looked at each other to take in his mother’s suggestion. “I think it may be best if we let her calm down herself first,” Joanne said as she drank her coffee. “See how things are tomorrow, Mum. It’s best if we all sleep on it for the moment.” Stephen was looking to the floor, staring again. His mind could not make sense of his girlfriend’s mother. One minute she liked him, the next she could not stand the sight of him. He was flustered by this. In his life he had enough people who did not like him for whatever reason. But Joanne’s mother was the one that had more or less insisted they should get together. He loved her daughter, she was having his baby, but once again there were obstacles

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A Dish Best Served Cold being put in the way of what should be an easy life. Yes, he thought to himself. Sleep on it. He cuddled Joanne by putting his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. He strengthened his arm around her, letting her know he was there to support her, and soon she was asleep. Katie smiled at the two lovebirds, thinking back to the time when he had declared that he was homosexual. It had taken longer than she had thought for him to return to ‘normal’ as she would term it, but her prediction was right. It was just a phase. Little did she know. “Dear of her,” she said. “She is going to do this quite a lot now she is pregnant.” Katie stared at the girl. “She is beautiful. You are incredibly lucky to get a girl like her, Stephen. Don’t mess it up.” He knew exactly what she meant by ‘Don’t mess it up’. In other words, do not two time her with either a boy or a girl. Stephen ignored the comment from his mother. “You just have to think of your grandson,” he said jokingly. “Have you thought of any names yet?” Katie thought that she would try and cheer him up a bit. “Loads. I like Dougal.” “Dougal? He is not going to be someone from the Magic Roundabout!” Stephen began to wonder if she was serious or pulling his leg. “Ok, if you don’t like that, what about Winston?” She smirked, at any minute not going to be able to hold her laughter. Stephen looked at her with widened eyes and a smile. “You might have been alive when Churchill was Prime Minister, but I wasn’t!”

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“Cheeky bugger,” his mother said, the laugh at last escaping her mouth. “It’s nice to see you smile, son.” “When do you have to go back to the hospital?” He asked, concerned that she would not go. He knew nurses were like that, caring for everyone else whilst not worrying about themselves. “Two days’ time,” She replied. “Harry is going to pick me up and collect me.” “I will come with you for moral support.” “Thanks, love. You know I am not very well, don’t you?” Katie watched him nod in agreement. “Stephen, I don’t know how long I am going to last. It could be a month, or it could be ten or twenty years. I don’t know.” “Don’t speak like that, Mum. You are not going to die. You have a Grandson on the way who will need you as well as me.” “I am just saying, love. One day you will have to cope. Without me.” She rubbed his face with her hand and watched as a tear came to his eye with the thought. “I’m tired of everything, love. The baby news has cheered me up!” Katie looked at the mother to be again who was out for the count. “Life, as you know, has been hard for our little family, what with one thing and another. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong paths you have taken in your childhood were my fault.” “No, Mum. I am responsible for anything I have done.” He smiled again. “You couldn’t have prevented anything that happened. You cannot blame yourself. I won’t have it to be.” “Just promise me. Promise me! You will do the right thing in life when I am no longer there for you.”

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“I promise. But you have to stop thinking and speaking like that, Mum. We are here to take care of you.” Now he had more to worry about. His mother was thinking that she was going to die. Who could he turn to if it did eventually happen? “I think it is time for bed,” he said, shaking Joanne’s shoulder to wake her. “Yes, I’m going up now,” Katie said, pushing herself up off the sofa. “I will catch you two in the morning.” “Night, Mum,” Stephen said as his girlfriend was still coming around. He run his fingers through her gorgeous hair, taking into consideration what his mother had said earlier. He was lucky. “Time for bed, babes.” “Good,” she replied, stretching her arms up in the air. “I’m knackered.”

The next day, Joanne decided that she would go home by herself and try and talk to her mother. Then, if that did not work, she would let Katie have a try. Stephen felt uneasy, worried about what Cheryl would say to her, especially if it was about him. He hated people talking about him behind his back and preferred if they said things to his face. But he honoured Joanne’s wishes not to cause any trouble by coming as well, either with her or on his own accord. She wanted to see to this face to face with her mother. Stephen was on a late shift at work, from 1315 until 2130. He asked if he should meet her afterwards and they could get the bus home together. They arranged to meet at Mutley Plain, just down the road from her house and up the road from the sorting office where Stephen was working.

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Rachel turned up just as Stephen was leaving for work. He did not acknowledge her but walked past her as he grabbed his bag. He had done his sandwiches for snack and put them in his bag, along with his flask of coffee. “Bye, Mum,” he said as he went out the door, not hearing the reply. Joanne had ordered a taxi to take her back to her mother’s house in order that she did not have to rush for a bus, which were very unreliable in any case. That left just Katie and her daughter Rachel for the rest of the morning and afternoon. Katie was expecting negativity from Rachel about the pregnancy once she had told her. Quite the opposite of Vicky and Harry who were overjoyed that they were going to have another baby in the family. Katie waited patiently for her youngest daughter to come back from the kitchen where she was making drinks for them both. Rachel arrived and put the drinks on the coffee table. The television was on, but the volume was quite low. Katie took a sip of her coffee and then said, “I have some good news.” “Oh right,” Rachel replied, thinking that it was to do with her hospital treatment. “Spill the beans then.” Katie smiled. “I’m going to be a Granny again!” “Congratulations. Those two are like a pair of rabbits. I suppose a brother or sister for Danielle at a young age is a good idea.” Her mother’s facial expression dropped, and she once again took a swig of her coffee. “Hold on, you are not telling me it’s Stephen and Joanne?”

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The lady nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “They told me yesterday. Vicky already knows because she was here yesterday as well.” “Just how is that going to work, Mum? That is a recipe for disaster if ever it was. Your son is gay!” She shook her head. “It’s just not right. Not only the gay thing but having a baby? It’s probably what he wants even though he knows the relationship is doomed from the start.” “He idolises that girl,” Katie snapped back at her daughter. “People can change. Their opinions change. Look at you!” “What?” Rachel replied, not expecting that sort of statement to come her way. She looked confused as to why it had. Katie looked serious. “You and Stephen used to be inseparable. I have accepted the fact that he was seeing a boy, why can’t you? Yes, it is not really normal, but these things happen. You probably have work colleagues who are gay, and you probably do not know it. I know I have!” “Not at the age of fourteen, Mum. He was still a boy at that age. A child in fact.” “A confused child trying to piece together the pieces of his life. I didn’t like it any more than you.” They both started drinking their coffees as silence descended between the pair. The lady started to watch the television as a distraction tactic. “Of course, you could be happy for the both of them, support them and love the baby as Auntie Rachel.” “I just think that girl needs to know about his past.”

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“Not from you, she doesn’t. You are not to tell her either! Stephen is happy right now and as normal as he is ever going to be.” Katie put her foot down with Rachel, letting her know that any thoughts she had of upsetting the family were not to be brought to the front.

Joanne reached her mother’s house and stood outside ringing the doorbell. Cheryl answered and poked her head out of the door to see if Stephen was with her, looking side to side as though he were going to jump out of the bushes. “Just you?” Cheryl asked rudely, as Joanne nodded. “You didn’t have to ring you know. You could have used your key.” “It didn’t feel right after what you said last night,” she said, walking inside and dropping her bag on the floor. “Well it was a bit of a shock, darling,” Cheryl said, trying her hardest to defend herself. “It’s not every day that your daughter tells you she is pregnant, especially by a boy who you have only known five minutes.” “He loves me, Mum. The first guy that has loved me, treated me right and will do anything for me.” She was really pleading with her mother emotionally. Love will conquer all, she thought to herself. “And it hasn’t only been five minutes.” “Near enough. In any case. I have found out things about him that I do not like. Some told to me by his own mother.” She stroked her daughter’s arm with the back of her fingers. “If you are making things up, Mum, just to stop me loving him, then you won’t succeed.” Joanne rested

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A Dish Best Served Cold right back in the sofa, the cushion in the centre of her back. “His own mother told me he had been in a psychiatric hospital, Glenbourne up at Derriford, because he has Psychosis.” “Get the facts, Mum. He has told me. He was not in Glenbourne. He was just in a normal hospital ward after being assaulted very badly. Like any after effect of a trauma to the head, strange things were said.” Joanne shook her head and could not believe what she was hearing. “He has also been seen kissing an Asian guy up at the Windmill Pub.” “A guy? Really? Is that the best you can come up with?” Joanne chuckled to herself. “This is beyond even you, Mum.” “Okay,” Cheryl replied. “One of the nurses at work who knows his mum told me that Stephen is gay, and he had a boyfriend who he used to go to football matches with on Saturdays.” “And he still does go to football on Saturdays with him!” Joanne replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “That so called ‘boyfriend’ that you are referring to is in fact his brother-in-law Harry. Vicky’s husband.” “I’m only telling you what I have heard, love,” Cheryl said as she even started to believe her own lies. “You are unbelievable, mother! Anything to get me to split from someone I love just so I will spend the rest of my life here with you. It ain’t going to happen!” She shook her head again and forced her lips together, so she did not say anything on the spur of the moment. “Right, the baby is due at the beginning of August.

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Accept the fact and be part of its life and a Grandmother or do not. It does not worry me, because all of Stephen’s family are overjoyed. “But you aren’t even married! How do you think your father would have felt about the whole thing?” Cheryl tried another avenue of emotional blackmail. “Dad is gone, Mum. Don’t try the guilt trip, because I was his favourite girl, and he would have been so happy for me.” Joanne just wanted to walk out and never come back, but she wanted an answer to her mother’s intentions, so she stayed sat down and rested. “Are you staying for dinner? It is your favourite. Beef Bourguignonne.” Cheryl was hoping that things would calm down a bit. It was becoming obvious that nothing she said was going to change her view of either having the baby or getting rid of Stephen. She would have to find out anything for herself. “How can I say no? You cook a mean BB!” Joanne remembered as a child she used to call Beef Bourguignonne ‘BB’ because she could not pronounce the second word, and still could not at the age of nineteen. “I’m glad you said yes. I’ve made enough to feed an army again,” Cheryl laughed as she got up and headed for the kitchen. She always cooked too much, going back to the days when her husband was alive and he used to randomly bring workmates home for meetings, so Cheryl used to offer them food as well. These days, she was just freezing anything that was left over. Joanne tried to rock to and fro to get up from the bucket seat sofa, and finally made it upright. “You

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A Dish Best Served Cold always make too much.” But then a thought crossed her mind. If Stephen were gay, it would explain a few things. She brushed the thought from her head. For the time being anyway.

The next day, Stephen woke early because he had to accompany his mum to the hospital for her outpatient appointment. He had missed Joanne overnight as she decided to stay at her house and continue trying to bring her mum around, which, according to the phone call she had made to him, was working, slowly but surely. She had warmed to the fact that she was going to be a grandparent, Joanne had told him. She did not tell him about the unbelievable comments that her mother had made about him. The less said the better, she believed. Harry turned up on time. He was always punctual and hated being late because of circumstances out of his control. “Mum!” he shouted as he came through the door using his key. “We are ready,” Katie replied. “Just got to put my coat on.” Harry looked to the coat hook on his left and grabbed her usual brown sheep’s wool coat and held it out for her to put her arms in. “You are a gentleman!” “Only on Fridays, but don’t tell your daughter!” He replied humorously, watching as Stephen rushed down the stairs and immediately shared romantic eye contact with him. “Hi Harry,” Stephen said, his piercing blue eyes mixed with a smile that in itself told the older guy that he loved him.

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Harry’s eyes widened as if to say, ‘careful!’ Then he rushed them both to the car after Stephen locked the front door.

The hospital was remarkably busy. Harry dropped them off and said that he would be back in about an hour, but Stephen was to call his office if there was any delay. Katie and her son walked towards cardiology outpatients, and went to reception to check in. They sat down in the seats opposite the desk and waited for Katie’s name to be called. Stephen stayed in reception whilst his mother went in for her appointment with the consultant. It was so busy, Stephen thought to himself. People coming and going, patients, nurses, porters. He picked up a magazine and looked at the date. Not bad, he thought to himself. Smash Hits but seven years out of date, so he put it back down on the pile. “Hello, Stephen,” the voice said from behind him. He knew that voice. How could he forget it? Turning around his eyes lit up. “Mark! Long-time no see! What are you up to these days?” “I’m a technician here at the hospital. I mend these things,” he replied, tapping on the machine that he had been pushing along. “What are you doing with yourself?” Stephen knew he could not live up to something as technical as his friend’s job, which he instantly began feeling like a bit of a disappointment for. “I work for Royal Mail. Postman. I love it. Well, it’s a job!” “In this day and age, you are lucky that you have one,” Mark said in a non-judgemental way which did make Stephen feel like maybe he was just being silly

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A Dish Best Served Cold about comparing himself with him. “Hey, listen, I’ve got to dash or one of the patients could die,” taping the machine again as He chuckled and so did Stephen, who could see that he had not lost his sense of humour. “But do you feel like getting together sometime? For old time sake?” Stephen smiled and nodded his head as Mark nodded towards the toilet over in the corner of the reception waiting area and headed towards it. Seconds later, Stephen got up and followed him in. Mark had checked the cubicles by the time Stephen got in. Then Mark grabbed his old flame and kissed him passionately, over and over again. “Here’s my number,” Mark said, grabbing his pen and writing it on Stephen’s hand. “Call me tonight.”

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Chapter 31

Ridicule can have different effects on different people. It comes back to the fact that everyone is different in the world, with different attitudes and therefore different levels of tolerance, where a person reaches a critical point in being ridiculed and can take no more. The contemptuous person responsible for thinking it is funny to bring a person down so much, especially in front of a group of other people may not know the ridiculed person’s life story, neither present nor in the past. Many of those who have been ridiculed since day one have often been described as ‘Having no sense of humour’ when they do not take the effects of the ridicule and join in, accepting any insults that may come their way. In a group of men, these insults would probably be described as ‘Banter’. They do not realise that peer ridicule has a severe effect on the target’s mental health. You are not born to ridicule. It is learned from parents and those around you. Because they think it is

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A Dish Best Served Cold alright to do it, the child will accept the fact that mickey taking is a common trait. Schools are full of ridicule with scornful remarks about how others look to them or dress, or the lack of a parent in a one-parent family, weight problems and health. Some may laugh it off and have been taught the ‘sticks and stones may break my bones’ routine by their parents. Others may stare as they realise, they are not only being ridiculed but psychologically bullied. Mental health will be affected at different levels as well. To be ridiculed may be seen as a part of life. ‘It happens, get over it,’ is usually the term used. ‘Don’t let them get to you.’ The child fails at school, avoiding all groups, becoming isolated from the other students, and therefore not receiving the attention or friendships of others, missing out on being invited to birthday parties, and later on, to celebrate in clubs and pubs. Not all recipients turn to crime or go further to commit an offense that results in the injury or death of others. But when that recipient’s mental health opens up and diagnosis of things like psychosis, schizophrenia, depression, and anxiety come to light, the risk of them doing something to harm someone, including themselves, is increased. At this point, life has to react and work on the cure because it is too late for the prevention.

He did not tell his mother that he had seen his old flame, Mark Dawe. She would have only lost it and told him that the past was best left in the past, he had a new life with Joanne and should concentrate on that. But the thought of meeting Mark again made him feel excited, even more excited than he was about

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A Dish Best Served Cold becoming a father. He knew that there was a mutual feeling between the pair because of what had happened. His mother had returned to reception and luckily had not recognised Mark as he exited the toilet after their embrace. Harry picked Stephen and his mother up at the same place that he had dropped them off earlier. Stephen had asked to go home in order that he could wait for Joanne, whilst his Mother was going down to see her daughter and grandchild. Harry dropped him in the bus bay at the top of Keswick Crescent and then carried on towards home. The boy got indoors and went up to his room. The thoughts were going through his head about Mark. He could have a boyfriend. He might live with him. Stephen began to fantasise about him which made his penis erect, so he downed his trousers and masturbated. He realised there and then that he was still in love with Mark. He loved Joanne, but in a different way. But it was a complicated situation with Joanne expecting his baby and Stephen could not help but think of his first love, Mark. Perhaps Joanne was just a friend. But if she ever found out about his past, no doubt she would not want to know him. He was pressurised into the relationship by his mother. But he did not feel any guilt for thinking of Mark all the time. He cleaned himself up and then went back downstairs, this time into the living room, and switched the television on trying his hardest to gain a distraction from his thoughts going around and around in his head. Until he had met Mark, he was going to ask if Joanne wanted to rent a house so they could be on their own, and then once settled, he was going to ask her to marry

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A Dish Best Served Cold him. But the arrival of Mark had changed his plans somewhat. The telephone burst into life which distracted him from his thoughts. He jumped up from the sofa and quickly went to the hallway. “Hello,” he said. It was Joanne. “Hi babes. Are you ok? Surviving without me?” “Yes of course I am. Had a party last night,” he replied humorously trying to make light of an oncoming storm. “I bet you did,” she replied with warmth in her voice. “Listen, babes, I’m sorting Mum out, so I want to stay tonight as well to see how far I get. It is going well. We are even talking about you coming for Sunday lunch.” “Progress, then babes,” he replied happily. “You take as long as you like.” He looked at his watch. He could telephone Mark in 20 minutes, he thought to himself. He still had the number etched on his hand, ensuring that he did not wash it off at any time. “Thank you for being understanding,” Joanne replied with a positive vibe and a sense of energy in her voice. “I had better go. I just told mum I had to make a quick telephone call.” “Okay, I’ll see you when you come back. Love you.” He blew a kiss down the phone. “Love you too,” she answered before cutting off. Stephen looked pleased with himself. He could now speak to Mark openly and in private. He waited with bated breath for the clock to strike seven. It seemed to be taking ages, but he then realised that was probably to do with the fact that he was clock- watching, which he used to do when he was in school,

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A Dish Best Served Cold and it never used to go any quicker there either. His mother’s chime clock his seven beats, and he was waiting right beside the telephone. He dialled the number on his hand. “Mark Dawe,” the voice on the other end of the line said politely. “Hi, its me.” “Wow. I didn’t think you would call,” Mark replied happily. “I’m glad you did.” Stephen smiled. He had that feeling in his stomach and his heart was pounding with excitement. “So where have you been? I’ve missed you so much.” “Hey, you are not the only one,” Mark replied. “There has been many a day when I have thought of you. I never thought I would see you again. But then today, my dreams had come true.” “How is your love life?” Stephen asked, wondering if he had been tied down with someone since he last saw him. “If you mean whether I have got anyone else, the answer is no. I had a few flings when we lost contact, mainly guys who just wanted a one-night stand.” Mark hesitated and then said, “I was going to get in contact again just after you left school. But I did not want to spoil things with your family. What about you?” “It’s complicated,” Stephen replied. Mark paused. “Sounds ominous.” Stephen wanted to be truthful with him because he felt that is what they had in their relationship at school. “You know my mother always wanted me to be straight?”

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“Don’t tell me you are married to a woman?” Mark snapped in fun. “That would be funny.” “Not for me it wouldn’t,” He replied seriously, which Mark detected the tone in his voice and immediately stopped laughing. “What’s up?” “Well my mum and her work colleague fixed me up with her daughter. She is a real nice girl.” “Stephen Bishop! You are in love!” “That’s it. I am not. I love her as a friend. But the complicated bit is, she is expecting my baby.” Stephen waited for him to reply and could hear his thought processes going around and around in his head trying to work out what to say and how to handle the situation. He also heard the laughing coming down the phone. “I can’t believe it! It must be hard for you,” Mark replied. “Is she keeping the baby?” “Yes, we are.” “What about if she finds out that you are gay?” Mark asked as he tried to picture possible situations that might arise. “Either before or after the birth? It could happen.” “I don’t know. I’ll just make sure my name is on the birth certificate.” “Stephen baby,” Mark had not said that for three years. “Perhaps we should discuss this man to man, rather than on the telephone.” “That sounds good,” he replied again getting excited at the thought of seeing Mark again. “I’m free tonight as Joanne is at her mothers.” Mark’s eyes widened. “Are you still at Langdale Gardens?” “Yes, why?”

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“I’ll be ten minutes.” The phone went dead. Stephen ran upstairs to get his best shirt on, hoping that his mother had ironed it and hung it in his wardrobe like she normally did. He also brushed off his shoes. He wanted to look his best for Mark. Grabbing the pen, which was beside the telephone, he scribbled a note on the notepad for his mother.

‘Mum, over at my mate’s house. Joanne is staying at her mother’s again. Don’t know what time I will be back.’ Love S. X’

Then he grabbed his front door keys and went to wait for Mark at the roadside on Langdale Gardens. It was not long before the Blue Ford Escort XR3i raced down the hill and grinded to a halt beside him. “Very nice!” Stephen exclaimed as he viewed the car up and down. Mark obviously kept it spick and span, he thought to himself. It was shining. “Get in, then,” Mark said as he looked at the guy, he knew that he loved. As Stephen got in the seat, the two kissed, which seemed to last a lifetime. Breaking away, Mark put the car in gear and raced away. “Smart!” the passenger commented. “I know. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her.” “Her? So, there is a female in your life then!” Stephen said jokingly. Mark looked at him and put his spare hand on the boy’s knee. “Too right! She spends all my money as well!” “Where are we going?” Stephen asked as the car raced up Forder Valley.

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“My place. Eggbuckland. Not too far.” “You mean to say all these years and you have been just across the valley?” Stephen felt that he could kick himself, as Mark rubbed his leg again. “I’ve missed this, you know!” “I have as well,” Mark said lovingly. “I just want to get you home and hug you loads! Never ever let you go again!” He smiled, as though he had never been this happy ever in his life. He drove into a driveway and the car stopped. “Here we are,” he said, getting out of his door. He watched as Stephen joined him. They went inside the house and closed the door. They did not get any further as they re-enacted the scene in the hospital earlier and kissed passionately. Breaking away from the embrace, Stephen asked, “So is this your place?” he looked around, up the stairs and into the living room. “No. Although I might be buying it. It is my Dads who has moved to London. I rent it off him.” They kissed again. “What’s the bedroom like?” Stephen asked cheekily. “Do you want to find out?” Stephen nodded as Mark led him upstairs.

It was just before 10pm. Katie had arrived and read Stephen’s note, but had her wondering which ‘Mate’ he was at. He did not have many mates. Well any, really. The last mate he had was Tara, and she was long gone. Suddenly the front door opened, and she thought it was her son. “Stephen? Is that you, love?” “No. It’s Joanne!”

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“Oh, Stephen said you were staying at your mums again tonight.” “She is on the early shift in the morning. I thought I would come back and surprise my boyfriend.” Joanne looked around to see where he was. “Where is he? In his bedroom?” Katie shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she replied passing the girl the note that he had left. “He is over at a mates house. But I do not know which one. Didn’t think he had any!” “No. Well none that he has mentioned to me,” Joanne replied suspiciously, with her mind now working overtime, especially after what her mother had said about him. Katie took the note back. “Well he has obviously made plans however last minute they were, because he thought that you were staying at your mum’s.” She looked confused at the note and still wondered where he was. “He won’t be out late. He never is. I think he doesn’t like the dark!” “Well I am going to bed because I am shattered,” Joanne said, holding the base of her back. “You are looking shattered, love. Have you got backache?” The girl nodded and she grabbed her back again. “I’ve got something that will work wonders. It is old fashioned but believe me it works. My trustee hot water bottle!” “Fantastic,” Joanne replied. “My nan uses them. Swears by them.” Katie didn’t know whether to take Joanne’s comment about her Nan as a compliment or otherwise, especially if her Nan was older than Katie. “I’ll bring it up in a minute. You go and get some rest!”

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Katie sat up in her bed reading her magazine. 11pm came around, and still no sign of her son. Then midnight past, and still nothing. This was unlike him, she thought. Should she call the Police? With his Psychosis he was classed as a vulnerable person. Or perhaps he had just fallen asleep at his mate’s house? Finally, Katie dozed off because she could not keep her eyes open another second and the worry of where her son was got sacrificed to her sleep.

The next morning, Stephen woke up thinking that him being with Mark was a dream, but he realised he was cuddled into his lover and had been for most of the night. They had made up for lost time with their love making sessions. Stephen told himself he should get home, or telephone at least, but he just cuddled into Mark even tighter than before and closed his eyes again. He started playing with the hair on his boyfriend’s chest as he was going back into a deep sleep. The two boys slept. Mark opened one of his eyes and looked at the alarm clock and then shook the boy in his arms. “Stephen. Stephen.” “Mmmmm. What?” he replied in a moaning voice. “It’s nearly four o clock in the afternoon!” Mark’s words at first did not register in Stephen’s brain and he continued to cuddle into him. Then he turned his head to face him. “Did you say nearly four o clock?” “Yes!” “In the afternoon?”

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“Yes!” Mark repeated. “Wow,” Stephen said softly as though he did not have a care in the world. “Best night’s sleep I have had in a long time.” “When we finally did get to sleep,” Mark replied as he pushed himself up in the bed and rested his back against the headboard. “You are getting more energetic as you are getting older.” “Older?” Stephen said with some humorous amazement as he started tickling Mark. “You cheeky bugger!” Mark started laughing as Stephen touched his sensitive areas. “Stop, please!” Stephen laid back down and cuddled into him. There was silence as neither of them made a move to get out of bed. Both were relaxed and felt safe. Stephen stared into his eyes. “Where do we go from here?” “You have baggage in the form of a pregnant girlfriend,” Mark replied. “The moment I saw you again up at the hospital, I just wanted you back. What we had as kids was special. I don’t feel the same when I’m not with you.” Stephen reached up for a kiss from his lover. “You do not know how fake my relationship with Joanne is. I’m just going through the motions to please my mother.” “Which you shouldn’t do, babes,” Mark said concerningly. “I know. I know.” Stephen kept quiet for a few moments. “I am going to break her heart. But I would choose you over anyone. How do you feel?” He looked at Mark, his beauty, those gorgeous eyes which he

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A Dish Best Served Cold remembered that he used to call his ‘Come to bed eyes’. “I want you in my life again, babes. I love you and always will.” They kissed passionately again. “What do you want?” Stephen looked at him as though he were still that young and naïve schoolboy that he had met at the bus stop. “Mmmmm. That is a tough question,” he replied in jest, as Mark started returning the tickling, but the problem was, Mark knew that Stephen was extremely ticklish, and he knew where as well. “Okay, okay. I give up!” He said as Mark sat on top of him whilst he laid down and pinned his arms down above his head. They stared into each other’s eyes. “Mark?” “What babes?” “I love you!” Stephen said as though he meant every work that he was saying. “And I love you too!” Mark replied before kissing him. “Oh God,” he said, breaking away from the embrace. “You do it every time to me.” “What?” Stephen asked confusedly. “This!” Mark grabbed Stephen’s hand and placed it on his erect Penis. “Best not waste it then,” Stephen replied, kissing him. The two of them then started making love again.

An hour later, they were still in bed. Mark noticed it was now 5.15pm but also noticed that the boy beside him did not care what time it was, although Mark could see him thinking about things, with frowns appearing on his forehead from time to time. Mark ran his fingers through the boy’s hair to try and calm him.

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“Hadn’t you better call home? Let someone know where you are?” He did not move. “Yes, I had. But I also don’t want this moment to end.” Stephen was enjoying the head massage that Mark was giving him, and it reminded him of when he was younger, and his mother used to do it and it used to make him go to sleep. “It won’t. Not if you do not want it to,” Mark replied whilst looking at him. “I love you. I have always loved you. People always say that when you are in your early teens you are too young to know what love is. But we were not because we really wanted and needed each other. I want and need you back in my life. I saw that today at the hospital.” “I don’t know what to do, Mark. I do not know where to start. Joanne is pregnant, Mum wants a grandson, and I’m in love with a guy.” Stephen continued to look at him eye to eye. “I could lose everything. Why is my life so complicated?” “Your life was always complicated! But you could gain what you always wanted. What we always wanted.” He watched as the boy nodded and then smiled at him. “I know. It is going to take me a bit of time, babes. I just cannot go back and announce that I no longer want a relationship with Joanne. As I said, I do love her, but just not in the way my mother wants me to.” Mark kissed him again. “That’s fine. I have waited three years and more. I’m sure I can wait a bit longer.” Stephen nodded as the thoughts of his next steps crossed his mind. Just how the hell was he going to tell his family, let alone his pregnant girlfriend?

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“Thank you.” He looked at the clock again. “I had better ring home. No doubt my mother will have the search party out.” “She hasn’t changed then?” “Not one bit,” Stephen retorted as he got out of the bed and searched on the floor for his underpants. He quickly put them back on. “Where is your phone, babes?” “Down at the bottom of the stairs.” Mark was beginning to worry about whether they were actually going to be together in reality. Two guys who really loved each other, and shared each other’s passion for love, had similar interests and who, if in a relationship could be the best gay couple. He knew that Stephen felt the same. Why else would he risk losing so much otherwise? He listened in as Stephen dialled home. Four rings before it was answered. “Hello?” “Hi Mum,” Stephen said before being scolded by Katie. “Where the hell have you been? We have all been worried sick!” “Mum, I’m nineteen, nearly twenty. I stayed at my mate’s house.” Katie was worried that his ‘mate’ was a gay mate, or someone who he was two-timing Joanne with. She was always suspicious in any case and from past experience she knew that there were things that she could not trust her son on. “Joanne came back just for you last night. Rachel and Vicky are both out looking for you. I called the Police, but they want me to wait 24 hours before they look for you.” “It’s no big deal, Mum. How is Joanne? The reason I make plans to go out was because Joanne

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A Dish Best Served Cold said she was staying at her Mums and you were down at Vicky’s.” He thought he would try to shrug the situation off and try to calm it before it got out of hand. “We didn’t know where you were. You did not say who you had gone to see. Which mate was it?” “It’s no one you know. Someone from work was having a get together. I wasn’t going to go, but then I thought, why should I be on my own?” “Why couldn’t you call and let me know that you were staying out all night?” Katie was still really worried, but also suspicious about his explanation. He never socialised, especially with people whom he had previously told her that he could not stand. “I didn’t have any access to a telephone. Then I had a bit too much to drink and crashed out on his sofa.” He saw Mark coming down the stairs dressed also in just his underpants. He looked at him, smiling and telling himself that he just wanted to go back to bed with this guy. “I will be home soon.” He put the phone down, then turned and grabbed the boy behind him and kissed him again. “I’ll drop you home, babes.” Mark smiled cheekily. “Right outside where I will sound my horn so both your mum and girlfriend will look out the window to see us.” Stephen laughed loudly. “Well that would be one worry over and one less thing to do.” He grabbed Mark’s hand and raised his eyebrows, signifying that they should go back upstairs. Mark did not complain at the suggestion.

Stephen arrived home just before 11pm. Katie was waiting for him, still fuming because he had called her

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A Dish Best Served Cold nearly four hours ago. Joanne had gone to bed. Katie could see the guilt in his face. He went to go straight upstairs to see Joanne. “Hold on, you. I want a word with you” In here, now!” She closed the door behind them in order that Joanne would not hear anything bad that might be said. “Come on then. Where have you really been? I can see it all over your face!” “Mum, I’m not going to discuss it anymore. I’ve told you where I was.” Stephen snapped as he tried to open the door, but his mother had her hand on the door handle and her foot wedging the door shut. “You made a bit of a mistake, young man. The number that you were calling from came up on the display. And I wrote it down.” “Good for you. Call it!” “Have you been cheating on that lovely girl upstairs?” Katie exclaimed. “She is carrying your baby Stephen. Your baby!” Stephen shook his head and looked at his mother seriously, hoping that the redness in his face caused by a mixture of guilt and embarrassment had gone. “I can’t do anything right for doing wrong with you, mother!” he snapped back at her. “Buggered if I do and buggered if I don’t.” He wanted to laugh because of the irony of what he had just said, but chose to hold his emotions in. “You moan that I don’t go out enough, that I spend too much time in my room, and then when I do go out, you are moaning that I am out. Well you call that number! I don’t care!” Katie saw that he was overly annoyed and let go of the grip that she had on the door and moved her foot.

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“If I find out that you have been with someone else and cheating on that girl upstairs, you won’t know what’s hit you!” Stephen stormed out of the living room and up the stairs without saying a word. He was wondering if he was going to get round two from his girlfriend as he walked into his bedroom, but he saw that she was fast asleep. Stripping off his clothes, he threw them into the washing basket out on the landing and then got into what was left of the space in the bed. He wrapped his arms around her, just as he had done so with Mark some time earlier that day, and then drifted off to sleep with one person on his mind, and it was not the girl in the bed. The next morning, Katie jumped out of bed at her usual time of 6am. She decided that before she went out with Rachel for the day, she would put on a load of washing and leave a note for Stephen to hang it out. She collected the washing basket in the upstairs hallway which appeared to be nearly full and carried it downstairs. Taking the contents out piece by piece, she checked the pockets on various trousers and jackets just in case the two had left anything in them. Then she grabbed Stephen’s underpants that he had put in there last thing the night before. They were slightly damp. She opened them up and saw a white patch in the bottom of them. She gently lifted the underpants to her nose and smelled the wet patch. She knew what it was, and a tear came to her eye as she realised that her son was up to his old tricks. “Oh no. Please God, no.” She couldn’t believe it. He had told her that he was gay some time ago, but she had hoped

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A Dish Best Served Cold that he had passed that phase, especially as he had Joanne. She put the underpants in with the washing. She did not know how she was going to handle this and spent some time thinking before she realised that she had not turned the machine on. She would have to speak to him when Joanne was not here. The risk of losing a Grandchild was there. If he was having gay sex with someone and she found out, there was still time for her to have an abortion, or she could refuse to put his name on the birth certificate, or make him go through the expensive process of the family court in order to get access to his child. It was something that she did not want. She wanted a Grandson that she could spoil in the little time she had left on the planet.

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Chapter 32

Love is one of the most difficult emotions to tell that you are feeling. It encompasses a range of strong and positive emotional captives and mental states and can bring out the best or the worst feelings of affection and the simplest pleasure. The range of meanings is that the love of a mother differs from the love of a girlfriend or boyfriend, which differs from say, the love of food. Some people have a great love for their animals on the pretence that an animal is more loyal than a human being. Most commonly, love refers to a feeling of strong attraction and emotional attachment. Love is considered to be a positive and negative: with its virtue representing human kindness & compassion. Where does love fail? Can anyone in the world honestly say that they understand the feelings of love? You may just like them as a friend, as many gay guys love their female friends, which tends to give them a safety net of feeling like they are with girlfriends. Young people sometimes see looks and beauty as a factor of attraction. They look at someone of the opposite sex

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A Dish Best Served Cold and mentally give them a compliment. Once they reach a certain age, they reach the ‘Dirty Old Man’ level which is usually commented by the intended recipient or his partner. It is not love; it is infatuation. When one of the partners is not receiving the attention they crave, they can turn to others resulting in an affair. Some peoples need for attention is more than others and there are many overly possessive people in the world. Relationships can make or break you, especially if you are in the wrong type of relationship, be it heterosexual or homosexual which can produce the most loving of couples who stay together. But they also produce violent relationships, or adulterous relationships. You might have a homosexual who is in a heterosexual relationship and this often happens in Countries where homosexuality is illegal. But it can also happen where the respect for ones parents is paramount, and they do not want to be seen as a disappointment, or their parents known as ‘the people with a gay child’. Love is known to be attraction, time, values, honesty, trust, touch, communication, monogamy. This list is never ending. Love has to be worked at if both people want it to stay as love. If one of these is missing, the relationship will not survive. Life will destroy it.

One of the biggest emotions that was going through Stephen’s head as he woke up from a restless night’s sleep was guilt. He had cheated on his pregnant girlfriend with another person, and to make matters worse, it was a guy. This guy he loved so deeply that it gave him that feeling in his stomach that made him feel that he wanted to be with him every day, every hour,

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A Dish Best Served Cold every minute. Did Stephen have that with Joanne? No. He laid in the bed thinking as Joanne continued to sleep. With Joanne, they had been more or less forced together, and he had seen her beauty. He would have loved it if their friendship were so deep that he could have been with her on his arm as they walked down the street meeting friends who knew he was gay, and she was his best friend, or even a lesbian. Their relationship was not balanced on the scales. She adored him as a lover and potential husband, father of their child, but he liked her for her kindness and friendship. He jumped out of bed as the thoughts were racing around his head. It was stressing him. All he wanted to do right now was to call Mark and arrange to be picked up so they could be together. He put his dressing gown on that was hanging on the back of his bedroom door and smelt the odour of Joanne’s perfume. She had been wearing it the night before because unlike Stephen, she did not walk to the bathroom with nothing on. He silently went downstairs, tiptoeing all the way in order that the sleeping Joanne would not hear him. He needed a drink, so made himself a coffee, grabbing himself some biscuits so he could dunk them. Then he saw the note on the kitchen table from his mother:

‘Stephen, gone out with Rachel. We need to talk seriously tonight. I know. I washed your clothes including your underpants. Mum.’

He read it twice, at first not thinking of the meaning. Then he realised what she meant with the underpants reference. They were soiled and he had not realised

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A Dish Best Served Cold when he had thrown them in the washing basket. She knew what he had been up to when he did not come home and stayed out overnight. Although she did not know who with. Mum would not tell Joanne, but she would insist that he tell her and be truthful. It would break her heart, but probably make her mother happy at this moment in time because at the moment Stephen was seen as the devil in disguise for getting her daughter pregnant. He made Joanne a cup of tea and took it up on a tray together with some biscuits and toast covered with jam just how she liked it. She was still sleeping, so he put the tray down and started rubbing her head gently. He noticed her beauty once more, and a tear came to his eye. She was such a nice girl and had been there for him in the past months. But he did not love her, no matter how much he said it to her. He loved her in a different way, just as he had loved Tara before, and he had not seen it that way until he saw Mark again and that meeting reminded him who he really was, what he really was. Gay. “Hi there,” he said as she opened her eyes and looked at him, a smile going across her face. “Hi babes. We were worried about you. You disappeared,” Joanne said calmly. “Where were you?” He got back under the covers with her. “Well when you said you were staying at your Mum’s house then I was home alone because my Mum was down at Vicky’s. One of the guys at work was asking everyone to go out the other day. I originally said no because you were pregnant and needed me. But then I thought I would go. Turns out I got drunk, which is quite easy for

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A Dish Best Served Cold me, and fell asleep on his sofa. Sorry, babes! I did not know you were coming home. “Hey, that’s no problem,” she replied as she smoothed his face. “Your Mum says you don’t go out much, so it was probably good for you. Did you have a good time?” Stephen nodded. “Yes. I had one bottle and that was me. I do not drink, do I? We all went out. I must have just been tired.” He began to hate himself for lying in this way, telling himself that she deserved better, but then he deserved some real happiness in his life and that was going to be with Mark. He now had to think of his plan. How was he going to tell her? He knew that if his thoughts on his mother’s reference about his underpants was right, then she would probably give him an ultimatum to stop messing the girl around and tell her straight. He was dreading his mother coming home that day. “What are you up to today? I mean are you here or going back to your mum’s?” “I’m here with you. Do you fancy a walk down to your Sister’s? You can take the dog out then whilst me and your sister talk babies.” She knew that Stephen loved the dog. He always joked that he loved Freeway more than anyone and if the dog asked him out, he would have to dump her. Stephen had a cheeky grin. “That sounds brilliant. Going out with my other girlfriend.” Joanne smacked him on the arm. “Oi you,” she said. “I know you love Freeway, but you are mine.” “I know. But she is gorgeous,” he said, quickly getting out of the way to avoid a second hit in the arm.

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He laughed. “I’ll go down and ring Vicky to check it is okay.” She pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Stephen could see the bump taking shape and grinned at the thought that he was going to be a Dad. “I’m going in the shower, babes,” she said, finishing the last of her toast and tea. Stephen was glad that she had suggested going to Vicky’s. They could stay down there and try and avoid any contact with Mum when they got back, or if there was contact, it wouldn’t be for that long because Mum would be tired after a day with Rachel, and Joanne would be flustered because she was expecting. He looked at his watch, and then listened up the stairs. The shower was turned on and Joanne closed the door to the bathroom. Stephen dialled in Mark’s number first. It rang several times before his love answered. “Hello, it’s me!” “Well, hello me! You woke me up on this lovely Sunday morning. I was catching up on my sleep!” Mark replied jokingly. “I wonder why you needed to do that,” Stephen chuckled. “I’m missing you already. You are on my mind all the time.” Mark sat down on the stairs whilst he talked to Stephen. “When can I see you again?” “Listen, I think my mother may have guessed where I was Friday night and all-day Saturday.” Mark became concerned. “How, babes?” He asked worryingly for Stephen. “Me like a fool put my underpants in the washing. I think most of what you gave me came out!”

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“Shit, babes. Well she won’t know it is me unless you tell her.” Mark did not worry. The two of them were big boys now. He was twenty and Stephen was nineteen. “I don’t mind you doing that if it does come out.” Stephen wavered and then said. “What’s the most terrible thing that could happen? I don’t think that she will throw me out because she wants a grandson that much that she won’t tell Joanne or bring any suspicion to there being a situation in the house causing an atmosphere.” “Babes,” “What sexy?” Stephen replied. “If your mum does throw you out, you can come and live here with me. We can be together.” Mark began to wish that Stephen’s mother would take the ‘throw him out’ option, and them Mark could have his lover back in his arms. They were good together. Stephen’s eyes lit up with the thought of them being together for good. He was feeling so embraced by words. “Thank you, babes. I love you so much. Listen, I can meet you down at Plymbridge car park at about 1pm if you like. I’m taking my sisters dog down for a swim.” Stephen also knew lots of private places that they could go. “Now you are talking,” Mark replied. “I’ll be there, and remember I love you too. See you at one. Bye.” Mark hung up, so Stephen telephoned Vicky to check that it was ok for them to go down, and it was confirmed. Vicky knew that he was really coming down for the dog because it was a nice day, and every so often he liked to be on his own just with Freeway. She

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A Dish Best Served Cold did not give him any hassle. Did not answer him back. He felt free with her and sometimes he needed her as much as she enjoyed seeing him.

They arrived just before midday, with Joanne taking it easy through the mixture of paths and lanes that Stephen had taken her down in which he called ‘The Short Cut’, although it didn’t seem very short to her, but she did guess that she was walking at a third of the speed that her boyfriend normally walked at. “Hi Sis,” Stephen said joyfully. The dog ran at Stephen and jumped up. “Oh, hello,” he said as he cuddled her, and she licked his face with excitement. “I guess you want to go out!” “Do you want a drink first?” Vicky asked, heading to the kitchen. “Yes please. Just a glass of water.” He looked around the living room. “Where’s Danielle?” Harry sat on the sofa watching television. “She is asleep. She had a bad night and is coughing a lot.” Joanne looked at Harry. “Poor little girl.” “Poor little Harry,” he said jokingly. “I had to give up my side of the bed!” “You should have just come up and slept with us,” Stephen said funnily. Harry smiled and had a dirty, smutty look on his face. “What, a threesome?” “Yeh, why not?” Stephen exclaimed, knowing he was going to get a backlash from Joanne at any minute. She looked at him with open eyes and a bewildered look on her face. “Oi you! Don’t I get a say?”

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Vicky overheard the laughter as she brought in Stephen’s drink. “Are these two being smutty again, Joanne?” “Yes,” she replied as she plonked herself down on the sofa. “They are arranging a threesome with them two and me!” Vicky laughed and said, “Don’t be silly. Harry can’t even count to three, let alone have one.” Stephen downed his water and then kissed Joanne, grabbed the dog lead off the coat hook even though he never had her on a lead unless she was near a road, and looked at his watch. 12:10. Plenty of time, he thought, although Mark was always early because he liked to be punctual, and in his eye, the only way to be punctual was to be there early. “Right girls and boys. We are off!” “Bye,” Vicky said as Harry just waved his hand at them. Joanne smiled and whispered ‘bye’ as she kissed her fingers to blow him a kiss, and Stephen responded with a wink of his eye and a pout of his lips. They boy and the dog ran up the steps and headed down to the path that they always took to Plymbridge River. Freeway spent her time grabbing branches from the ground that were two or three times the size of her. Stephen knew that by the end of the walk, he would have a couple of sore legs as she ran into him at least once with a branch. She ran on ahead of him, and as they turned the corner where the Wrigley factory was visible, Freeway disappeared. Stephen knew where she was, because she always went down into the bog just to make sure he had to take her down

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A Dish Best Served Cold to the river to swim and wash off. She was a very- intelligent dog in that way he often told himself. Freeway came up from the bog totally unrecognisable as usual. Her normal golden-brown coat was covered in dark chocolate brown mud. It was supposed to be good for the dog, as it removed any mites from their skin, so he was told. They headed down the mud path towards the one lane back road to Plymbridge and the car park. Stephen looked at his watch as they reached the road. He had twenty minutes yet, but the car park was right opposite a place where Freeway could swim, so if Mark weren’t there yet, he would quickly let her in the water. He walked around the corner and saw the love of his life resting his butt on the wing of his car. It was like two young boys who had not seen each other for years. Stephen rushed, which helped with Freeway as she was desperate to get into the water. The two guys hugged. They could do no more at the moment because there were too many people around, but each of them whispered into each other’s ear. The they walked off towards the path. “What the hell has she been in?” Mark asked, looking at the dog in disguise. “The bog. She does it every time to make sure she is allowed in the river.” “Clever girl,” Mark replied. They walked along the path heading towards the waterfall where there was a good place for the dog to swim and play in the water. It was also quite secluded. As they arrived, the two boys sat down, and Freeway instantly ran into the water.

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“Aww. How sweet,” Mark said amazed at how the dog liked the water so much. “Well the trouble is getting her to come out of the water. I usually have to wade in and put her on the lead to pull her out.” Mark looked at him, still amazed. “Oh my God. You are joking?” Stephen shook his head. “Nope!” They managed a quick cuddle whilst no one else was around. “I couldn’t go a day without seeing you.” “Me neither,” Mark whispered back. “You are all I have been thinking about. I go to do something in the house, and I forget what I was going to do because I think of is you.” “Mark. You know what you said about me moving in with you? Did you mean it?” Stephen asked, checking that he was not just saying it for the sake of being polite. Stephen had been let down all of his life, so he just didn’t want to be a burden and move in with Mark just because he had nowhere else to go. “Of course, I meant it. You can move in today if you want. I get the chance to hug you all night every night then.” Stephen smiled. “It’s just. I think it may happen sooner than I thought.” Mark sat behind him and then wrapped his arms around his shoulders and neck. Stephen cuddled into him. “I’ve missed this,” he said. “Me too. You can move in when you feel the time is right, babes. Today, tomorrow, or next year. It does not matter. As long as I have you.” They sat cuddling for ages, until Freeway came out and shook the water from her coat. Stephen got her back in the water by throwing a rock for her to chase. “I love dogs,” Mark

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A Dish Best Served Cold said. “Especially when they shake over me,” he joked, wiping down the drops of water from his clothing. “Perhaps we could get one of our own.”

Back at his sister’s house, Vicky looked at the clock on the wall as it chimed four O’clock and frowned. “Stephen has been gone a long time with the dog,” she said. “He normally says if he is going on a long walk. I hope he is ok.” Joanne copied her, looking at the clock. “He seems to have a lot on his mind recently.” “Probably worried about his Mum, and of course you and the baby.” Vicky knew that she might just be making excuses for him, what with him disappearing on the Friday night and then today he could not wait to get out of the door and now he has been gone nearly four hours. “I’m sure he is ok. He’s probably talking to the dog because she doesn’t answer him back but gives him the answers he wants to hear.” She giggled and Joanne joined her. “You know him too well.” But deep inside, she was worried that something was wrong. She could not put her finger on it for the moment. Perhaps he was worried about being a Dad? She decided to try and find out and reassure him. She listed in her mind the things it could be that was upsetting him; He wasn’t the type to have an affair. Or was he? Vicky suddenly heard the dog barking as Freeway ran on ahead and bounded down the front garden to the door. Harry jumped up immediately, knowing that the dog would be leaking wet due to her long furry coat, and he would take her to the back garden to dry her off before she came in. “Hello, girl!”

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He said, opening the door. The dog jumped up, excited at the fact that she had been out. “Have you been out with Uncle Steve?” He opened the side gate and by now the dog knew the drill. Stephen arrived at the top of the steps. Vicky was also at the front door. “Where the hell have you been?” she exclaimed. “We were just getting worried about you.” “I lost track of time,” he replied. “We went up to Bickleigh, just kept walking and she was enjoying running in and out of the water.” He reached the bottom of the steps and brushed past Vicky to go in and see Joanne. “Did you have a good time with the dog?” His girlfriend asked joyfully. “Yes. I always do. It de-stresses me. For those couple of hours, I don’t have a care in the world.” “You see, Vicky?” Joanne exclaimed. “He does it when he is stressed.” “What have you got to be stressed about?” Vicky asked her brother. “You have a beautiful girl here, a baby on the way, a dog who adores you.” Stephen grinned a false style of grin. “Lots of little things. They tend to turn into one big thing. Mum not being well and everything. Just making me worry a lot.” He held Joanne’s hand as he sat on the floor in front of her. “I’ll be okay.”

Both of them went home about 7pm after Vicky did a buffet for all of them to eat. Joanne had indicated that she was tired and so her boyfriend’s plan of getting back late to avoid his mother didn’t materialise. He knew that instead he would be home for when Rachel

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A Dish Best Served Cold dropped his mother back, so he could take over the looking after of her. But he was not looking forward to what she had to say, although he guessed she would not say anything in front of Joanne. After the walk back, which was mostly uphill, Joanne was tired out. Stephen sat on the sofa and she put her head on his lap and stretched out and within seconds she was sleeping, and he ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed her stomach to relax her that little bit more. The thing was, he did not feel guilty anymore. Right now, he wanted to pack his bag and go to Mark, forget about his life that in his words ‘had been shit so far’, and be happy. It was what he wanted. Surely it was his time to have some happiness in life. Around 8.30pm, he heard the door close. “Mum, is that you?” “Yes, it’s me,” she answered Sternly. “Rachel is coming in for a coffee.” He listened as the door closed and waited for the offer of a drink before bed, but no offer came. All he could hear now was the mumbling of voices behind what he took to be, a closed kitchen door. Had Mum told her daughter about his stains in his underpants? At that moment in time, he was expecting all hell to break loose. It was a long wait, or at least it seemed to be long, but neither woman had any conversation with him. Stephen woke Joanne up. “Babes, do you want to go to bed? I’m tired as well!” Joanne did not realise that Katie and Rachel were in the kitchen as she passed the door with Stephen in tow and crept up the stairs. Before long, Joanne had returned to her slumberous state and Stephen continued to cuddle her. He could still hear the mumbling though the ceiling because the

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A Dish Best Served Cold kitchen was directly under his room. After about ten minutes, he heard the front door close after Rachel had said goodbye to her mother. Katie did not realise that the two youngsters had gone to bed. Only when she walked into the living room and they were not there did she guess that they had gone upstairs. She sat down, cup in hand, but in silence and started thinking about everything that had happened. Where was life going? Where was Stephen’s relationship with Joanne going? Who was he with on Friday night and all-day Saturday? She started to cry. It was too much for her, all the hassles of life. All she wanted was a quiet life. She took a hankie out of her pocket on her cardigan and dabbed each of her eyes. Then she began to think that if there was a God, then she and her family must have done something really wrong in a past life to be granted with this continuous run of bad luck. There could not be a God in any case, she thought to herself. Who on earth would let an innocent fifteen-year-old boy die in such a terrible way and at such a young age? David was on her mind. He was such a good lad. The most he did in his fifteen-year life was cherry knocked on the doors of people in Montacute avenue and ran away quickly. She began to feel that she just could not carry on fighting the tribulations of life for much longer. Life had taken its toll on her. She dabbed her eyes once more and remembered just what sort of person she used to be. Strong, loving, caring. But now? Katie shook her head at the actions of her son Stephen. She had told Rachel what she suspected and needless to say, Rachel was fuming. With Joanne he was having a second chance at life. But he was blowing

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A Dish Best Served Cold that chance. Running down a path of self-destruction again, and there was no stopping him, there never was. No therapy or Psychiatric Nurse would ever stop him. She even suspected that there was more to him than met the eye in the death of Nigel Dodd and James Cox. Maybe even his teacher who had raped him, Mr Mendham. Maybe he was even responsible for the school burning down. The lady took a sip of her coffee as the pain of life continued in her mind. She was tired. Tired of it all. She drank down the rest of her coffee and put the mug back on the coffee table, momentarily pausing to think of what she should do next. He just didn’t listen. Was she wasting her time? Her breathing became heavy as she could feel herself getting stressed. Suddenly the pain of life that she firstly felt in her head became real. She felt a stabbing pain in her chest and started gasping for air. She tried to cry out, but nothing was happening. Sharp pains rushed through her left arm and the pain in her chest worsened by the minute. Her face was now a deep red in colour as there was no oxygen and she couldn’t breathe. She was sweating, her pupils dilating and then suddenly she fell sideways onto the sofa. There was one last pain. Deathly pain. Her body became lifeless and succumbed to the end of life.

The next morning Stephen woke up, stretched his arms up and looked over at his alarm clock. He had never used it as an alarm clock since the day he bought it. It was Monday, and he was on late shift at work starting at 1300 hrs. It was now 0752 hrs. Plenty of time, he thought to himself. Joanne was still sleeping. He

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A Dish Best Served Cold thought he would go down and make a drink and have some breakfast. Out came the dressing gown from behind the door, and he quietly closed the door behind him, heading towards the stairs. He glanced at his mother’s room, door was open, bed had been made. He then thought about going back to bed, because his mum was up, she was going to collar him for that chat she wanted. He did not want an ear bashing so early in the morning. His brain took hours to start working. But he really needed something to eat and drink, so he decided to take his chances. Perhaps she was in the living room and would not hear him. He got to the bottom of the stairs and looked into the kitchen opposite. His mother was not in there, so he went in and filled the kettle to make a couple of drinks. Then he put some bread in the toaster. He was listening for movement in the other room. It was quiet. She must have fallen back to sleep, he jested to himself as he continued making his toast and coffees. He then decided that he should make his mother one, otherwise that would be ammunition for another fallout. Minutes later, he poured the water into the three mugs, making his mother’s exactly how she liked it with one sugar and plenty of milk. At least this would be one brownie point, he thought as he opened the living room door. She was not there. “Mum,” he shouted. “You home?” Nothing. Perhaps she had gone to the toilet. He decided to put the coffee down on the table in front of the sofa and then tell her that it was there if he saw her. Walking around the chair, he glanced at the lady laying on the sofa. Perhaps she had fallen asleep there last night, he thought to himself. “Mum? Are you okay?” He knelt down to give her a shake. “Mum, wake up,” he

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A Dish Best Served Cold said, shaking her arm. “Mum. Mum.” Nothing. There was no movement. He turned her over, the weight of the body heavy and hard to move. Then he noticed her face. Her eyes open, staring forward. “No! Mum,” he screamed. “No, No! You cannot. You can’t leave me.” He continued shaking her. Then he burst into tears whilst screaming, “No! No! Wake up!” Joanne heard the screaming, put her t-shirt on and made her way down the stairs. “What’s wrong, babes?” she asked, walking in on him, her hands instantly covering her mouth in shock. She got down and tried to find a pulse, but then realised when she touched his mother that the body was cold. She had been there all night. “Joanne, make her wake up. She is just sleeping. Wake her up!” Stephen screamed hysterically. “No, she can’t go from me. They all leave me!” Joanne cuddled him into her and put her arms fully around him. “Babes, she has gone. Your mum is dead, babes. She is cold and blue.” “No! No!” He cried. “Babes, we need to make some calls. I need to phone an ambulance.” He was not listening, so she loosened her arms and let him go from the grasp. The she stood up and went to the telephone and dialled the emergency services. Then Joanne telephoned Vicky. “Hello? Said the voice on the end of the line. “Vicky, it’s Joanne. You need to get up here as soon as possible.”

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“Is everything alright?” Vicky asked, initially thinking her and Stephen had fallen out. “There’s no easy way to say this, Vicky. We found your mum this morning on the living room floor. She has died, Vicky.” Joanne choked to tears as she mentioned the bad news. “No, please!” Vicky sobbed as her eyes filled with tears. “She is cold, Vicky.” “I’m on my way,” Vicky said and then she put the phone down, as Joanne listened to Stephen sobbing, crying, and screaming quite badly. She worried about him, she knew a bit about his history with his mental health from what she had picked up in conversation with his mum and sisters. She was extremely concerned about the circumstances. But she was the one of the two who was keeping a cool head, even though she herself was upset, because Katie had been nothing but a second Mum to her since day one. It was light outside as Vicky arrived and opened the front door with her spare key although the house looked like every light was still on, even the outside porchway light. But she had no troubles finding the lock. She rushed in and hugged Joanne first, who was standing, and then Stephen, who was sat down beside his mother, holding her hand, and stroking her hair just as she used to do to him. She heard a knock on the door. “Joanne, can you get that?” Joanne let the two paramedics in and pointed them towards the living room. “She’s in there.” Vicky saw them enter and looked back down to her brother. “Stephen, the ambulance has arrived. They need to have a look at Mum.” She tried to pull him

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A Dish Best Served Cold away, but he was not budging, instead holding onto to his dead mother with all his strength. One of the paramedics came beside him. “Hi mate. My name’s Tony. Listen, I can see that your Mum has gone. I know it is hard. Your mum is the best person in the world. I need to take a look at her, Stephen. I am going to need you to let her go. Can you do that?” He put his hand on the boys shoulder. Stephen turned his head to look at him. “Can you bring her back?” he asked through all his sobs. “I want her back!” He broke down desperately. The paramedic pulled him slightly and helped him upwards with his hands under Stephen’s armpit. “Come on mate. That’s good.” Tony led him out of the way to let his colleague in as well. They moved the coffee table more towards the television to give them more room to operate. Vicky and Stephen hugged, and they pulled Joanne in for a group cuddle. He wiped his eyes with the cuff of his dressing gown and then shook his head. “We need to tell Rachel,” Stephen said. “I haven’t got her number.” His sister said, “It’s okay. I know it. I’ll call her now.” Vicky walked out and picked up the telephone. The hardest news she was ever going to have to break to her sister. The telephone rang several times before she answered. “Hello,” she said with her usual bitchy attitude in her voice. “Rachel, it’s Vicky. You had better come down to Mum’s now. I am afraid it is not good news. Mum was found dead on the floor about an hour ago.” Vicky heard her crying on the end of the line.

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“Okay, I’ll come down. See you in ten minutes,” Rachel put the phone down. Meanwhile, the paramedics pronounced Katie as deceased, but told the three of them that the Police were on their way because the death was unexpected. They also suggested arranging a funeral director. Vicky got on the telephone. Rachel arrived in the same fashion as her sister, letting herself in with her own key. She had always appeared bitter ever since Stephen announced his sexuality when she caught him and Mark in bed. No one ever knew what changed her from being the loving sister to someone who trusted no one, not even her own boyfriend. She snarled at Stephen as she passed him and went directly to Vicky. “Where is she?” she demanded to know. Vicky stopped her going any further as the Paramedics had taken control of the body until the Police arrived. She knew Rachel was hard, and even though she had evidence of having been crying, she maintained her bitter-faced stance at the door, but Vicky could see that something was building up inside her. It was like she was steaming as she stared into the living room. Rachel suddenly looked around for her brother and stared directly at him making him feel uneasy in many ways. Joanne was stood beside him, holding his hand, and resting her head on his shoulder. Unexpectedly, Rachel moved over towards her brother. She was choked up, and the tears had started streaming from her eyes. “You bastard!” she exclaimed. “This is all your fault!

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Stephen panicked slightly, predicting what was coming. Vicky heard the commotion and followed her sister, grabbing her arm to try and pull her away, but with little success. “Just how is it my fault?” “Leave him alone, Rachel!” Vicky shouted from the doorway. “This is not the time or the place!” “Does your pregnant girlfriend know your dirty little secret?” she exclaimed further, looking at Joanne. “Oh, yes Joanne, he has many secrets!” “What is she talking about, babes?” Joanne quizzed with a worried confused look on her face. Vicky came over to try and pull her sister away and stop her saying anything that might be regretted later. “Rachel, no! This is not the time!” “What is she talking about, Stephen?” panicked Joanne as she realised that this was the second person to mention things about her boyfriend. One difference, this was a member of his own family and not her jealous mother. “Nothing!” Stephen replied. “Rachel, Vicky is right. There is a proper time and place for this!” “You killed our mother! All the problems that you brought to the door!” Rachel said nastily. She looked back at Joanne. “Guess what, Joanne? Your boyfriend.” “No, Rachel, No!” Vicky shouted. “He’s …” “Rachel, please. Stop this,” Stephen demanded. “Your secret is out, you little bastard!” “What secret?” Joanne demanded to know, but Stephen was speechlessly staring at Rachel with open eyes that were saying ‘Please, no!’.

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“My little brother is gay. He used to have a boyfriend at school! Go on, tell her Stephen!” She glared evilly with her eyes telling him to confirm the truth to his girlfriend. “What?” Joanne bellowed. “Is this right, Stephen?” She let go of his hand, demanding to know the truth. “That’s not all, Joanne!” Rachel said with hate and anger in her face. “You ask him where he was the other Friday night!” Perhaps her mother was correct, she thought to herself. “You owe me an explanation, Stephen.” Stephen remained silent, stared at Rachel, then looked at Joanne and Vicky. He didn’t know what to do. The many voices all shouting at him from his two sisters and girlfriend were just muffled in his head as he looked back at Rachel with anger in his eyes which was also building up inside him. He wanted to hit her. He wanted to choke her. But he did not take his eyes off of her as he grabbed his Harrington jacket from the coat hook, opened the door and walked out. “That’s right! Do as you always do and don’t face the music!” Rachel shouted out of the open door. “Happy now?” Vicky asked, angry at her sister for outing her brother in such an angry manner and at such a critical point in all of their lives. “Mum would have been ashamed of you!” “He was cheating on his girlfriend! With a man!” Joanne did not know where she was, confused at what was going on. “Vicky, tell me. Is it true? Is Stephen really gay?”

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Vicky sighed and paused, at first not knowing what to say, but then confirming Joanne’s worst fears. “I’m afraid so, Joanne.” “What?” Joanne screamed angrily. “So, let me get this straight. Both of you knew and you stood by whilst he made me pregnant and said nothing?” She held her head as though she had a pain in her forehead. Vicky tried to console her. “Joanne. Don’t get worked up.” “Take your hands off of me!” she screamed. “Your family. You are all dysfunctional! All a bunch of mentally challenged misfits!” She looked at both sisters. “Come in and have a cup of tea,” Vicky said, trying to edge her into the kitchen. “No, no. I have got to go. I’m going to ring for a taxi,” and with that she headed upstairs to pack her bag with her belongings. Vicky began to turn her body to challenge Rachel.. “You don’t do things by halves, do you, Sister?”

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Chapter 33

People go missing every minute of the day in the UK. It is estimated that 38,000 people per year disappear from normal life, with 80% of them having some type of mental health issue. Every 1 in 200 children and 1 in 500 adults is reported to Police as having gone. Half of those who are reported missing are between the ages of 15 and 21. Life plays a big part in a person’s decision to vanish from the face of the planet. There could be a long list of reasons; Arguments with the family, medical reasons, accidents, crime, or death in a location where they cannot be found or a victim of domestic violence. Life is cruel. The people who occupy the planet are cruel. People were placed on the planet to be loved, and things are made to be used. The human race loves things and uses people. Someone can get to a point where the ridicule from those around them, or the situations they find themselves in just pushes them over the top. They want to leave it all behind them. Some are found and

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A Dish Best Served Cold return home. Some are found and get the authorities to not tell their loved ones where they are, just that they are alive. Some disappear forever, they could be alive or dead, we do not know. All people, from a young age, are different, have different characteristics, different traits, and different points where their anger will take them to another level. Life does not help them, and the more the world thinks about money, especially for the agencies that used to be there to support them, but due to Government budgetary cuts cease to exist, the less help there is for the vulnerable. How do you go and talk to someone about your sexuality? You may not know that person and therefore not know if you can trust them. Trust is a major factor in living your life. Partners in romantic relationships have to trust each other, share secrets, know that they will remain monogamous. If these things fail, then life goes out of the window. Having an affair with someone of the opposite sex is not acceptable in life, however, from a family point of view it is more acceptable than having an affair with someone of the same sex. Why? Life is not fair; people are not equal. These characteristics play a major decision in life on whether someone decides to be a name on the Police Computer as a criminal or someone who has just escaped life. Missing.

Joanne had caught the taxi home to her mother as soon as she had packed her bag. Cheryl was shocked at the circumstances but was expecting some of what she had heard about Stephen to be true. But she did

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A Dish Best Served Cold not want to adopt an ‘I told you so’ attitude to her daughter because the girl was upset enough. “Mum? Can I still get rid of this baby?” Joanne asked seriously. “I don’t want it.” “How far gone are you, love?” Her mother asked, somewhat feeling happy that her daughter had come to that decision. “About seventeen weeks.” “I believe that you can have an abortion up to 24 weeks. If you want one, we will need to get you seen as soon as possible.” Her mother was so happy about her decision. Perhaps Stephen being found out was fate. “Well I haven’t heard from him,” Joanne said. “He hasn’t called or even tried to win me around.” “I will have something to say if he turns up here!” Cheryl said. “I always thought there was something not quite right with him.” It was difficult to tell who hated the boy more, Joanne or her mother. “I mean, there is only so much that a mother will tell about their siblings.” “I’m just worried that if he finds out I have terminated the pregnancy he will blow his top.” Joanne stared forward in silence for a while. “He is so unpredictable. With his mother passing he is going to be even more so.” Cheryl put her arm around her daughter. “We will face that if and when it happens. Until then, we need to get you back on the straight and narrow.” Joanne cuddled into her. Cheryl knew she was right. He was unpredictable, and news like a termination might be enough to push him over the line.

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The morning was just welcoming the sunlight, as it pierced the trees. Midday was fast approaching. Stephen ran as fast as he could, his eyes still filled with tears and the thoughts rushing through his mind at a rapid pace. His mother was dead. What was he going to do? She was all he had, and now she had left him. Rachel hated him; Vicky still loved him. Joanne would now detest the ground that he walked upon thanks to his sister. He could foresee problems with him seeing his baby. Mark would care for him and love him. He had insisted that Stephen move in with him as soon as possible. His life was a mess, but Mark would make it better. But Stephen knew that he would just be a burden. He stood outside of Mark’s house just looking at the front door. He was still, as still as the water on an undisturbed lake, not hearing anything around him. His mind was just oblivious to life. Then a woman with a baby in a push chair came near him but he was blocking the pathway with his stance. She did not want to go into the road with the baby. “Excuse me, love,” she asked kindly. He didn’t move one inch. It was like he hadn’t heard her, so she repeated her request, this time with a bit more volume. “Excuse me, please. I need to get by!” Still he didn’t budge. She put the brake on the pushchair. “Are you alright?” she asked as she approached him, making herself seen to him but then realising that something was wrong. “Can I help you in any way?” Stephen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her, and continued to stare at Mark’s front door. He didn’t want to hurt Mark. He clicked out of his trance state, turned his head, and looked at the woman. “I’m … so

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… sorry.” He stepped backwards towards the road so she could get by. “Is something wrong?” She asked nicely. He just shook his head gently. She carried on, cautious of the stranger, and was deciding in her mind whether she should call the Police. Stephen looked confused with all thoughts going through his mind. Then suddenly without warning, he just started walking down the hill, both unsure and unaware of his destination. ‘Teach that loud-mouth bitch a lesson,’ the voice said to him. It was the only sound that he was hearing. He did not hear the horn of the car that had nearly hit him as he freely crossed the road without warning, nor did he hear the abusive remarks from the driver. ‘Rachel must die! She has ridiculed you!’ He stopped. Looked around. He was heading in the wrong direction. Rachel lived in Thornbury up near the hospital. He turned up Goosewell Hill and started the steep climb to the top. He knew there was a path on the other side that lead to Blunt’s Lane. Rachel’s house was at the other end of Blunt’s Lane where he had killed James Cox. He walked quickly done to the lane and then attempted to cross Forder Valley Road. The traffic was very heavy and prevented him from doing so for what seemed like ages to him, but finally one of the drivers sounded his horn and waved him across. As he walked up Blunt’s Lane, he started to get hallucinations in his head. He saw the three boys coming towards him who had assaulted him and put him in hospital. But how? He thought. One of them was already dead. He became angry, and then found

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A Dish Best Served Cold himself fighting all three. In reality there was no one there, which after a while he realised. Thinking he had won the fight, he walked on. Down to where he was assaulted. He stopped and stared at the ground, his eyes seeing the vision of his body lying in the muddy water that was still coming down the bank from the direction of the houses above. He looked forward once more and continued, up the hill until the kennels entrance appeared on his left. He looked through the fence into the yard. James Cox was stood there, staring at him. Stephen was going to have to kill him again. He hid down just in case he had been seen, and moments later looked again. The vision had gone. He didn’t know where, so looked around but there was nothing. He walked on, and finally came to the bottom of the final incline towards Miller Way. At the top, the hospital would be on the left, and Rachel’s house was on the right. Slowly he ascended the hill, stopping near the top to admire the location of his kill. Someone had placed flowers over at the side with a note reading, ‘Taken from us too soon’. Stephen picked up the small bouquet and started ripping the flowers apart, leaving them on the ground in the exact place that he had ended James Cox’s life. Then he continued up the lane to the top.

Vicky and Rachel organised Katie’s funeral for the following Wednesday at Efford cemetery where she would be laid to rest with her son David in the same grave. They had not heard from Stephen since he stormed out, and neither had Joanne who had gone home to her mother. Vicky was worried about her brother and called the Police to register him as missing.

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She had the pleasure of telling the officers who attended the story of why he had gone. “I’m sorry we took our time getting to you. We have had a busy day,” PC Powell said to Stephen’s sister. “Can you tell me what happened to make him leave?” “It’s a long story, but to cut it short,” Vicky said, “Stephen found his mother’s body on Monday just before he was due to go to work. He is a Postman at Royal Mail.” She realised that she was gabbling with stuff that really was not important. “That is enough to make anyone feel that they want to get away,” PC Powell said. “And I’m so sorry about your mother.” “Thank you,” Vicky responded. “That was not all, though. My sister arrived after me. Her and Stephen do not get on you see. In front of his girlfriend, Rachel, my sister, told his girlfriend that he was gay.” “Ah. That would cause problems then,” PC Powell responded. “Not the best of times to announce it.” “No,” Vicky said. “She can be nasty when she wants to. She blamed everything that had happened on him, including his mother’s death.” “Ouch,” the officer said. “Have you got an up to date photo of Stephen?” “I think my mum has one on the shelf. Yes, there,” Vicky got up and reached for the frame with Stephen’s photo in, and then removed it. This was quite recent.” “Thanks. Okay, we will put an alert out for him.” “He has got mental health problems officer. He has been hospitalised for Psychosis and is still under

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A Dish Best Served Cold the care of an outreach CPN.” Vicky needed him to be found, no matter what he had done, it was not anything that could not be forgiven. “I’ll put that in the report,” he said. Just need some details now. “Has he got a boyfriend or anything? Any friends he might stay with?” Vicky shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said, turning to look at her husband for support. “Can you think of anyone, Harry?” Harry thought for a moment in silence. “No,” he said also shaking his head. “He didn’t do friends.” “But he went out the other Friday night and stayed at his friend’s house. I do not know which one though. I think Rachel said that Mum had told her it was a friend from work.” Harry sighed. “He did talk about Tara who used to live the next block up, but she moved, and they lost contact.” “Do you know Tara’s last name?” The Constable asked, thinking that it may be worth following up. Vicky knew. “Cooke. Tara Cooke. I believe she moved to the Tamerton Foliot area, and her Dad owns the pasty shop down there.” “What about boyfriends?” PC Powell asked. Vicky again shook her head. “Well he hasn’t really had a boyfriend since Mark when he was at school.” “Mark? Have you got a last name?” Vicky could not remember the name because she was not really in contact with him back then, let alone speaking terms. “I can’t remember it.”

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“Dawe. Mark Dawe,” Harry said with a grin as Vicky looked at him. “Stephen told me his life story at football!” “Mark Dawe? Are you sure?” PC Powell asked, “And they were at school together? In the same class?” Harry nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.” “Okay,” the officer said, wanting to get away as soon as possible in order that he could try and put two and two together. “I’ll take a brief description of your brother, and then leave you alone.”

Stephen’s head just was not right. He heard voices, more prominent than he had before but this time he did not care that they were there. They were just like background noise in his mind. He was at the top of Blunt’s Lane and sat on one of the concrete bollards. ‘What are you waiting for! Teach her a lesson!’ The voice said. He did not care. There was plenty of time. His eyes were heavy with the feeling that there were heavy bags on each. He was hearing the voice but for some reason knew they were there but did not acknowledge them either orally or psychologically. It was like his mind was clear, no memories, no guilt, no remorse. He noticed someone walking down from the direction of the hospital and waited until they were close to him and nodded as if to silently give a greeting. “My mother died this morning,” he said sorrowfully. The stranger stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Stephen. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, pal,” he said, not knowing what else he could do for the boy, and not wanting to get too involved because he didn’t know him.

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Stephen did not answer at first but sat separated from reality and just looking around the place where he was. He stared into nothingness, occasionally turning his head to look at the stranger. He could not think where he was headed, because his head could not remember the street that Rachel lived. He was completely blank. “So, your mum. Was she ill?” Stephen turned his head and nodded to the man. “Well she couldn’t have been that old because you are only a youngster yourself.” He noticed that the boy was not in the talkative mood understandably, he thought. “Should you not be at home?” “Probably. But I just want to sit here in peace.” “Well once again, my condolences to you. I will leave you to have your peace.” Stephen just adjusted his body position as the hard concrete was hurting his bum. Then he closed his eyes, feeling the sunlight on his face. It was like he was plucking up the courage to do something that he needed to do but had to think about the consequences. ‘You are not bailing out just because she is your Sister, are you?’ Stephen shook his head. He started thinking again about what Rachel had cost him, telling his Mother he was in bed with Mark resulting in Mark being banned from the house. Then there was the ignorance and bad feeling between both Rachel and him when once upon a time they were the best of mates. Finally, she ruined his life by telling his girlfriend and future Mother of his child that he was gay. He agreed. It was time to teach her a lesson. He jumped up from the bollard and then started walking down towards the

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A Dish Best Served Cold housing estate on the left about 500m away from him. On the way down, he saw someone’s garage open. There was no one around, so being an opportunist, he walked into the garage calmly, trying to find a weapon of choice from all the different tools hung on the wall. Claw hammer. He would use a claw hammer. Quick, easy, and effective. Taking it down from the wall, he quickly skipped out of the garage and back onto the path, putting the claw hammer down the front of his jacket as he walked into Findon Gardens quite calmly, not afraid of being seen, and not drawing attention to himself. No one would notice him then, he thought to himself. He went to the left-hand side, hidden the best he could be by parked cars, and looked over to number 29. Rachel’s house. ‘Kill her! Teach her a lesson! NOW! He could feel the anger increasing inside as he quickly walked over to the door and rang the bell, getting the claw hammer ready for when someone opened the door. The door had long length glass, and Stephen could see someone approaching from behind, reaching up for the yale lock. The door opened. Without hesitation, Stephen pushed himself inside catching whoever this man was off guard. Then he started hitting him with the claw hammer, mainly on the head, which instantly started to pump blood as the wounds surfaced. The man cried out until the time that he could cry no more as the pain was too great and he fell unconscious. Stephen stopped. He looked around for Rachel. Was she home? He didn’t know. He looked through the net curtains out to the back garden. She was hanging

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A Dish Best Served Cold out the washing on her rotary line. He decided to wait until she came back in and then he would surprise her. More like scare the shit out of her, he thought to himself. He saw her pick up her washing basket and head back in towards the patio doors. She stepped inside and slid the door to close them, locking it in the process. “Hello Rachel!” She dropped the basket and jumped when she saw who it was. “Stephen. What are you doing here? Get out of my house!” “You know I can’t do that!” Stephen replied sinisterly. “You and I need to talk.” Rachel called for her boyfriend. “Ralph! Ralph! Help!” “Do you mean the Ralph on the floor in the hallway? He is kinda looking quite dead right now!” She shifted in order that she could see into the hallway and noticed that Stephen was telling the truth as Ralph’s body was lying on the floor and there was blood all over the carpet. She started to shiver because of the fear of the situation. “Sit down,” Stephen ordered her. “Stephen …” she replied nervously, unsure of what he was going to do to her after seeing her boyfriend on the floor. “I said fucking sit down! She did not recognise his voice. It was gravelly, deep, and brash which was very unlike his. If anything in recent years Stephen had become a little camp at times. But she sat down cautiously, not taking her eyes off the fiend. “There. I’ve sat down.”

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“Now tell me. Why did you do those things to me?” He asked, pacing up and down the living room quite forcefully but maintaining his command on her. “You ruined my life. Telling Mum about me and Mark and then telling my girlfriend that I was gay.” He shook his head. “Why would you do that? Why would anyone do that?” he asked raising his voice to an enraged level to show her that she had upset him big time. Rachel was scared. Stephen could sense her fear. “She … needed to know,” Rachel said quietly. “Rightly so. You are gay!” “So, what gave you the right to tell her?” He shouted. “Who do you think you fucking are?” He started banging the hammer down on the furniture with some force and then walked over to the net curtains to wipe Ralph’s blood from the piece. “Stephen …. This isn’t you. You do not hurt people.” “No? But you do! Your own fucking family! Me!” Stephen exclaimed, anger and hate showing on his face. He looked at her, his expression saying that there was going to be no mercy anymore. He knew that he’d had enough of the shit and the ridicule of life. He paced faster, raising his hands above his head and then back down by his side. He was talking quietly to someone else. Kill the bitch! Kill her now! Stephen looked at her. Then he ran over and smashed her over the head, and Rachel screamed out in pain as he began crushing her skull with the hammer, using both the ball and the claw to hit her many times times. Finally, as she was unconscious, he used the claw, opened her mouth, and wrapped the

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A Dish Best Served Cold claw around her tongue. Just like he was pulling an old nail out of a piece of wood, he ripped her tongue out of her mouth, held it up, looked at it and said to her. “There. Problem solved!”

The BBC Breakfast News was on the next morning with the headline concentrating on the dual murder in Plymouth as Harry listened in before he went to see his first client. Detective Inspector Cooper was taking a press conference a press conference.

‘This morning, two bodies were found in a house in Thornbury, Plymouth. The male and the female, both in their late 20’s, had been murdered after being hit over the head several times with a sharp object, probably a claw hammer. The Police are currently looking for witnesses who may have seen someone in the area who they normally wouldn’t have seen. The Forensic team are on the scene so hopefully we will have more later. Please, any bit of information, no matter how irreverent you might think it is, ring us at Crownhill Police Station.

DS Monahan became concerned when he read the details on the two victims and then went in to see the DI in his office. “Guv, we have just had the confirmation of the victims. The male is Ralph Slade who is the boyfriend of the female victim who is Rachel Bishop. Now the latter is the sister of Stephen Bishop. Am I the only one seeing a pattern here? “No, not at all,” the DI replied. The common denominator in quite a lot of cases seems to be him. His sister and her boyfriend. Then there was James

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Cox murdered at the top of Blunt’s Lane. James Mendham at his school. I would even have suspicions that he had something to do with the school explosion because it happened at the same time as the James Mendham murder. Then there was Nigel Dodd. How did he manage that one? We convicted two for that case. Now I’m not so sure. “I am a bit stumped,” DS Cooper commented. “Why would he kill his own sister? We would need to look at the MO’s for all the cases.” “We have the details for the family of Rachel Bishop, and we need to tell them soon about her death. We can gather more information then. You never know, we might get lucky and Stephen might be there.” DI Cooper was just hoping. He knew that nothing was ever as straightforward as finding the person that they wanted at the address they are attending. “You think that Stephen Bishop might have had something to do with all of them?” DS Monahan put his hands on his waist and shook his head. “If you are right, Guv, that is going to be a massive task to reopen all those cases.” “Well don’t book any leave.”

PC Powell parked the Police Car outside the pasty shop in Tamerton Foliot, causing a stir inside the shop, although the staff seemed to be joking with each other about who was going to get arrested. As he walked into the shop, Tara’s mother shouted, “It was him!” pointing at her husband. PC Powell laughed. “Hello,” the young constable said. “Are you Mr and Mrs Cooke?”

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“Yes, that’s right,” Tara’s mother said, taking her baking gloves off and putting them down on the counter. “How can we help you?” “Did you used to live at Langdale Gardens?” Tara’s Dad looked concerned and leaned on the top of the glass cabinet in front of him. “We did. Is there a problem?” he asked, worried that something had happened that he didn’t have a clue about. “Is it possible that I could speak to Tara if she is here?” “Of course, you can. Come through and you can have some privacy in the cottage.” Her Dad said, leading him through to the back. “Can I ask what this is about? It’s just she is heavily pregnant at the moment, about to drop at any minute.” “Do you know if she has seen Stephen Bishop at all in the past few days?” PC Powell enquired as her Dad stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. “Stephen Bishop? I hope that she hasn’t. It was a good thing us moving here just to get away from that lunatic.” “What do mean lunatic?” PC Powell asked. “Here.” Tara’s father pointed into the sitting room where Tara was sprawled out in her father’s big leather chair. “Ask her yourself.” He looked at his Daughter. “Tara? This Officer would like to speak to you about Stephen.” Tara sat upright and lifted her stomach up in order that she could become a little bit more comfortable in the new position. “How can I help you?” “Well we have had a missing person’s report for Stephen Bishop. I believe you and he were once acquainted?” The young officer took out his notebook.

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“You could say that,” she replied as though she were struggling to speak without getting breathless. She patted her stomach. “This little one is his.” “You Dad said that your family moved to partly get away from him. Why was that?” Tara took a drink from the side table beside her and gulped it down to dampen her throat. “Stephen was so confused. He claimed to be gay, but then slept with me. His demeanour and temper could change with the drop of a hat. I knew I had to get away when he was in hospital. He was hearing voices and speaking in a strange voice. I was about to tell him he was going to be a father, but I didn’t want anyone like that near me. He is bad news. “Have you any idea where he might go?” The PC asked. She shook her head.

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Chapter 34

Humans are fascinated by murder, the culprit, those who investigate the murder, the academia, and the general public. The killing of one human being by another has baffled criminal psychologists for decades with the act of psychological profiles of a killer being introduced by Police forces all over the Country to assist them in the capture. People tend to think that all murderers have mental health issues or deem them psychopaths. But you only have to look at live cases to see that not all murderers have psychopathic tendencies. The problems arise because society has to find a reason for the murder to be committed. Celebrity status criminal psychologists appear on television programmes telling us what the killer was thinking when they committed the crime. How do they know? Just how can they tell what a person is thinking at the point when they kill someone? Crime is malleable and only the people who engage in it and can tell you exactly why they did it are the culprits, and criminal psychologists can only create

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A Dish Best Served Cold an approximate profile of a killer that helps Police understand the reasons behind their actions. However, everyone is different, so they cannot follow a trend when completing the profile. Major studies on murder have concluded that the most influential factor that contributed to their actions was that most of the murderers in the study had experienced some sort of environmental problems during their childhood, such as a broken home caused by divorce, or a lack of a parental figure to discipline the child. Nearly half of them had experienced some type of physical or sexual abuse, and more of them had experienced emotional neglect. So are their actions the responsibility of their parents, teachers, or other family members? Or is it down to the fact that parents and teachers no longer have to power to punish a child and if they do, they do not get the support for doing so. The Law can be contradictory. For example, the laws on murder when mixed with the laws on mental health could see the culprit not receive a jail sentence for murder but a hospital order. In effect you could murder someone and be in a secure hospital for six months. Behave yourself and you are out again to commit another crime. That is life today. We are all responsible.

It had been just over four months and still the Police had not had any luck bringing Stephen Bishop in for questioning. He was listed as a missing person, but there was also a warrant out for his arrest as he was wanted in connection with the murders of Rachel Bishop and Ralph Slade on Monday March 17th, 1986. Use of DNA and forensics were still in the early stages

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A Dish Best Served Cold and the Police could put him as having been in the house of them both, but it had also come out that he and Mark Dawe were once again sleeping with each other and had done so the week before the murders. It appeared that the evidence might be useless unless Stephen came home and gave them a confession. The national appeal gave sightings of him in Bristol, Bath, Oxford, Gloucester, London, and Worcester and all were followed up but no luck in finding him. He was not using his cards or taking any money from his bank account, so they couldn’t pinpoint his location. They had not given up though. Much to the dismay of what little family that he had left who possibly might stand by him, the Police had searched his Mother’s house in the absence of their brother. They found nothing that would put Stephen in the frame for the murders. DS Monahan made sure that he searched for everything just in case DI Coopers hunch that he had something to do with the other cases, came to light and they reopened the cases on all of them. Vicky now had two funerals, that of her Sister Rachel, and her mother, hoping that Stephen would turn up at one of the funerals to pay his respects, but he had not. She was still worried about his mental state and the fact he had just disappeared off the face of the earth. When he did return, she would have to tell him about Joanne having an abortion and the fact that there was no baby. She did not know how he would take it. It looked like he was already pushed over the edge because of being outed by his own sister. She just wanted to know that he was safe but to date, there was no report of him being anywhere.

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But Stephen had been living on the streets, in hostels and homeless shelters for the last four months. He had forgotten so much. He didn’t even know his own name, so the priest who ran the soup kitchen at St. John the Baptist church just called him ‘John’ after the Church’s name for a while, until he accidently saw his wallet with his bank card in and his name on the bottom. He tried to make the boy remember who he was, but it had become an impossible task. It was like his memory had gone and his mind was blank. He did not have anything to do with the other members of the homeless that attended but kept himself to himself and sat in the corner. But he did always help clean up and wipe down the tables after they had finished. “Thank you for your help again today, Stephen,” Father Donnelly said as they both put the tea towels down after wiping the dishes. Stephen looked at him, at first not knowing if the priest was talking to him. But then he started to remember that Stephen was his name according to Father Donnelly. He liked Father Donnelly. Always nice, helpful, Kind. Would do anything for you. He had even offered to try and find his family, but Stephen did not want to, and had forgotten where he lived in any case. The priest had often wondered about him because he did not drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t do drugs and was always polite. Most of the others were alcoholics and came to the soup kitchen smelling of alcohol. But not Stephen. Plus, he had his wallet, and bank cards, and a picture of him with a girl. Father Donnelly had seen it all in the various parishes that he had served in. Some married men, with wives and

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A Dish Best Served Cold children, their own house and car and a good job, suddenly just break down and turn up on the streets. If only he could get Stephen to talk about why he was here in the homeless centre. Perhaps one day, the trust between them would be enough for him to open up. Stephen walked back to where he had been sleeping for most of the time under a subway at Stonehouse Bridge that was usually filled with alcoholics during the day who tried to stay hidden from the Police. It was usually quiet in the evening and night- time and sometimes the passers-by would throw them some food like they were dogs in an animal shelter. Sometimes you got the nice ones who would actually buy the food for the homeless with good intentions. He had also learned that sometimes you get a kicking in some places, mostly youths thinking that they are ‘hard’ and showing off in front of the rest of their mates. Sometimes there was a territorial fight between the homeless if they slept on someone’s pitch or had more food. Stephen had learned who to keep away from on the streets. The boy settled down the best that he could, lying on an old cardboard box and covering himself with another. He closed his eyes. He was not expecting the kick in the stomach, which made him turn over and grab his gut. “I want that fucking wallet,” demanded the scruffy looking bloke towered over him. Stephen could not move as the kick had winded him. “What wallet?” he gasped as he looked into the eyes of his attacker and saw that this guy meant business.

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There was another kick to the stomach. “Don’t fuck me around. You know which wallet! I have seen you with it at the soup kitchen. Now hand it over!” The other down and out held out his hand in order to be given the wallet. “I won’t tell you again!” ‘Don’t let him get away with that. Kill him! Teach him a lesson!’ The voices were back. Stephen searched in his coat pocket and felt the wallet. He looked over to his right-hand side and saw a glass bottle that he had thrown there the night before after a lady gave him chips and a drink. He grabbed the wallet from his pocket and offered it to his attacker. As the other vagrant went to grab it from Stephen, he grabbed his attackers hand and forcefully pulled him downwards. The he reached over and grabbed the bottle smashing it on the ground but keeping hold of the neck of the bottle. Then without hesitation he thrust the broken bottle into the neck of his attacker. Not just the once, but viciously many times. ‘Yes! Yes!’ His victim staggered backwards as Stephen pushed himself up on his feet. The homeless man was grabbing his neck but choking as he could not stop the blood shooting from the wound. Finally, his now lifeless body fell backwards. Stephen reached for the wallet that was still in the other guy’s hand and put it back in his pocket. “Fucking wanker! It is mine! My wallet!” He shouted at the lifeless corpse. ‘You showed him!’ He covered the body up with cardboard, making it look as though it was just a street vagrant sleeping in the subway. Then he calmly walked away, knowing

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A Dish Best Served Cold that he had to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. He did not see the blood all over his coat at that moment in time, but only on his hands. He tried to rub it off, but it just became engraved in his skin. He had to find water. It was still dark as Stephen knelt down beside the sundial in Plymouth City Centre. He washed the best that he could trying his hardest to get the dried blood removed from his hands. Once he had done this, he walked up towards the train station where he could sleep. There was a network of subways which seemed to point North, South, East and West like a compass. Stephen knew it was quite dangerous sleeping there but had no choice now. He needed sleep. He laid down and closed his eyes.

The next day, he went back to the soup kitchen, removing his coat as he went in to help in the kitchen and placing it tidy on the chair in the corner. Then he went over and started washing some of the pans that had built up on the side. In the dining room there was a lot of loud whispering voices amongst those who knew each other. Father Donnelly was always the last to find out anything. Very rarely did he watch television because the news was just full of bad things that were happening in the world. But the group seemed to be watching the television placed on the wall bracket in the corner above the room. “Oh, my Lord,” the Father said as he saw the headline announcing the murder of a homeless person in the subway last night. “I wonder if it is one of our members?”

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The occupants of the room became restless and worried. They looked to see if anyone was missing that was usually there. There were also comments about all of them being safe on the streets as they watched the news broadcast. Suddenly, one of the homeless guys, Malcolm, recognised the subway on the television which was now cordoned off by the Police. “I’ve slept there several times, Father. Georgie and Stephen sleep there regularly as well. It could have been us, anyone of us!” Stephen overheard the worries and then listened to the television which had the investigating officer speaking and announcing that the man killed was unidentified at the moment, but officers would be visiting the homeless community to ascertain his identity soon. The TV placed a picture of the face of the victim on the screen, with a telephone number to call if anyone recognised him. It was then that Father Donnelly realised that it was Peter, one of the regulars whom they used to call the Captain due to his military background and the stories that he always told everyone. There was an increase in volume in the soup kitchen as most of those who knew him also recognised the picture. It worried Stephen. The fact that they had stated that the Police were visiting all the homeless organisations in the area. Father Donnelly had already gone into the office for some reason, and Stephen guessed it was to telephone and identify Peter. ‘The Police are coming to arrest you.’ The voice was right. He had to get away. There was a back door which led to an alleyway. He would go that way. He looked to see if anyone was watching him. No

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A Dish Best Served Cold one. They were all too busy discussing the death of Peter. He opened the door and escaped, looking down the lane each way to try and decide which way was best to go. Left looked like a dead end, so he turned right and started walking quickly down the cobbled lane. Father Donnelly reappeared from his office. “Gentlemen. The Police are coming within the next ten minutes to talk to you all about Peter. Can we all make sure that we help them as much as possible.” The general consensus in the crowd appeared to be that they would because they wanted to catch Peter’s killer. Usually, the only reason the Police wanted to speak to them was to move them on because they were making the place look untidy for the visitors and tourists. The Priest looked around and then back to the serving hatch. Stephen must be in the storeroom, he thought to himself. He walked towards the serving hatch. “Stephen? Are you there? We need to get some refreshments out.” Nothing. No movement. But he could not be far, the priest thought. His coat was still folded on the chair. He walked in around the kitchen and felt a draught coming from the back. He noticed the rear fire door was wide open. “Stephen?” he asked concerningly. Still nothing. Where could he be? Father Donnelly then went back in and picked up Stephen’s coat. He unfolded it and then noticed the red marks on the front and side of the coat. Not realising what the marks were at first, he tried to brush them off. But then he realised what the stains were. Blood. He put the coat back down on the chair and froze. Just what did he just touch? No. Surely not Stephen.

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Ten minutes later, the Police had arrived and were stood just inside the centre’s door looking for someone to talk to who was in charge there. “Hello Father,” the Police Officer said to him after seeing him approaching. “I’m PC Fletcher, this is PC Court. We are responding to your telephone call.” “Yes, I called you because we had the television on, and recognised the face of the victim in the subway.” Father Donnelly was still concerned about the disappearance of Stephen and the blood on his coat. “His name is Peter.” PC Court was writing in his notebook. “Do you have a surname for him?” “No,” the priest replied negatively. “Most of the visitors to this centre do not give surnames, let alone forenames. If they do not give us a name, we just call them John.” Father Donnelly looked back at Stephen’s coat. “Some of the clients here might know his surname. He used to tell us stories about being in the forces, so that might be another avenue for you.” “Is it okay if we ask them first?” PC Fletcher asked nicely as he surveyed the soup kitchen clients. “Sure. They all want to support you. But first I need to show you something. Please come with me.” The Father walked into the back of the kitchen once more and picked up the coat. “This coat belongs to one of the homeless who goes by the name of Stephen. He has just suddenly gone, I guess out of the fire door because it was open.” PC Fletcher took the coat from him carefully. “This looks like blood.”

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“That is what I thought. But I know that Stephen was fine when he came into the centre this morning.” He watched as PC Fletcher checked the pockets on Stephen’s coat. “Well he won’t get far. He has left his wallet in the pocket.” PC Fletcher took out the wallet and opened it to see if he could get a name. He read the bank card in the slip section. “Stephen Bishop.” He put the coat back down as PC Court peered over to look at the wallet. “I’ll get a PNC check done,” PC Court intervened, grabbing his radio, and stepping over to an unoccupied part of the room for some privacy. PC Fletcher also got on his radio and requested CID presence to look at the coat, as if it wasn’t Stephen’s blood, then whose was it? They had a murder overnight of another homeless person. Were the two linked? He went out to his car to get a couple of evidence bags, one for the coat and the other for the wallet and when he returned, he placed both items in each bag. “So, tell me Father. Stephen Bishop. Do you know where he slept at night?” “No,” the priest replied. “But Malcolm over there told me that George and Stephen sometimes sleep in the subway where the murder was.” He pointed to Malcolm who was busy watching the news with the rest of the clients. “Do you think that he would be willing to talk?” “Yes, no problems. I will go and get him. You can use my office if you wish, through that door on your left.” “Thank you,” PC Fletcher replied as he headed to the room that he had been given permission to use,

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A Dish Best Served Cold watching first as Father Donnelly talked to the witness, and then persuaded him to get up and come in to speak to him. “Come in, Malcolm,” Father Donnelly said, showing him into the office. “This is PC Fletcher who just wants to ask you a few things.” PC Fletcher rested his butt on the edge of the desk. “Hello Malcolm. The Father tells me that you sometimes sleep in the subway where the homeless guy was murdered.” “Yes, sometimes. Usually me, George, and Stephen,” Malcolm replied positively as he wanted to make sure Peter’s killer was caught. “Where you there last night?” “No, no. I haven’t been there for weeks. You sometimes get beaten up there because it leads to a rough part of the city. I tend to sleep rough over by the docks now at Millbay. Me and George were over at the docks last night. We like it there because some of the people give us food.” Malcolm looked at the Police Officer. “That’s all I can tell you really.” “Okay, thank you,” he said showing him out of the office as PC Court came in to speak to him. “Nick,” PC Court said urgently to his colleague. “We may have a bit of a problem.” “Father, can I ask you to step outside,” PC Fletcher asked politely. “No problem,” Father Donnelly replied, stepping out of the office, and then heading towards the dining area. “What’s up?” PC Fletcher asked. “Stephen Bishop, that’s what’s up. There is a man of that name wanted for murder of two persons in

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Thornbury. His last known whereabouts are unknown as he has been reported as a MISPA.” PC Court felt a rush of excitement in his blood. He was a new officer that had never worked on a big case as yet, most of his shouts had been for traffic violations and anti-social behaviour, and even then with all the paperwork that went with it didn’t make it as exciting as it seemed when he went through the recruitment process. “CID are bringing a photo of him that has been faxed over from Plymouth to see if anyone recognises him as the same person.” Ten minutes passed. CID turned up at the homeless centre and brought the photograph which had been given to them by their DCI when they were originally looking for Stephen four months ago. They had previously recorded their search back then as ‘No Trace’. The real reason was that they did not have the resources to put to the search as many officers as they would have liked. The majority of the clients at the soup kitchen recognised Stephen from the photo immediately. Malcolm did, and felt panicky at the prospect that he had hung around with a killer for most of the previous months that Stephen had been lurking in the centre. Father Donnelly tried to console him the best he could, knowing of Malcolm’s anxiety problems that caused panic attacks. “Do you know something, Sergeant,” Father Donnelly exclaimed. “That boy has been coming here for a couple of months and I have never had a problem with him” “You were nice to him, Father,” DS Ambrose told him. “Why would he want to hurt you?”

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“Well he even used to help clean the tables, do the dishes, even mop the floor.” The CID Officer held the evidence bags that PC Fletcher had put Stephen’s coat and wallet in. “We will give these to the forensic team and get the blood cross referenced. It could be that we have a serial killer on our hands. He might be the one that murdered the guy in the subway last night. “What, Peter?” Father Donnelly asked, surprised by the Sergeants statement. “Surely not! This has got to be a misunderstanding.” “Well every available officer is out looking for him. He cannot go far. We have his wallet, so he has no access to money.” Father Donnelly shook his head, still finding it hard to believe that the timid guy who stood beside him so many times was wanted for murder. “I hope you get this cleared up,” he said to the Sergeant. “I will pray for him.” “He needs more than a prayer, Father. I will keep you informed.” The two CID Officers left, closely followed by PC’s Fletcher and Court. The day was not over for Father Donnelly. He had a lot of explaining to do to a lot of worried homeless people.

Stephen continued walking fast down the street, he was now in King Street. He had in in his head now that his baby was due at any time. He wanted to get to Joanne and see if the baby had arrived. He headed towards the City Centre, but suddenly stopped. His coat. He never had his coat on. He must have left it in the centre. It was too dangerous to go back for it. But it

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A Dish Best Served Cold had his wallet in the pocket. How would he get his bus tickets? The drivers wouldn’t just let him on. There was always a way. But not on this occasion. So, he changed direction and started walking towards Mutley Plain. There seemed to be an increased Police presence on the streets which Stephen noticed as he headed down the side street at Pennycomequick. He was not sure where he was going because he only thing that was on his mind was his baby. He needed to get to see Joanne, but little did he know that he was heading in the right direction towards Mutley Plain. DI Cooper had ordered his officers to stop anyone that looked suspicious. He had also spoke with Uniform to get presence at both of Stephen’s sisters houses and his now ex-girlfriends. The senior officer knew that Joanne had terminated the pregnancy and was worried about the consequences involving Stephen. However, he was not expecting him to return after such a long period. Stephen finally reached Mutley Plain, and he began to recognise the area once more, although his head felt like it had caved in, his eyes heavy as though he needed sleep, so he was regularly putting his hand to his forehead and stooping downwards. He paused to get his bearings. He knew this place; he had been here before. He saw two uniformed Police Officers heading down the street, talking to passers-by and showing them a photo, so Stephen quickly darted into Belgrave Road and then left into the back lane which was parallel with the road in Mutley Plain itself. He rushed as fast as he could go, but then decided to take all the back streets up to Joanne’s house, which he knew was around this area, he just did not know where.

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He looked around; she did not live in a terrace like the one on his right-hand side. She lived in a bigger detached house than the ones on his left-hand side. He spent the next hour just walking around the various streets trying to find the house if he recognised it. Something gave it away. Police cars were parked outside of a house in Seymour Avenue. Stephen was sure that this was Joanne’s house. He looked from a distance and saw that the entrance was blocked. There would be no way of getting inside without being caught. He would try around the back of the house, taking it that the Police would think that he was just going to walk up to the front gate and ring the intercom to be given access. The back walls were high, stone with some quite sharp edges. He could not just climb the wall; his energy levels were at an all-time low and he had not eaten since leaving the soup kitchen about two hours ago. He looked up and down the lane. There was no back gate to Joanne’s. He walked up the lane trying all the locks on the houses that did have back gates. They were all locked. But then he noticed a van at the far end of the lane. He cautiously walked up to it. There was no one around, so he climbed onto the roof of the van via the fixed ladder on the back. He looked over to decide what to do next. He could walk along the top of the wall to Joanne’s house and then jump down to her back garden. Yes, he thought. He could do that. He just needed to make sure that he could jump onto the top of the wall in the first place from the roof of the van without falling. Stephen looked over at the wall. He used to do this as a kid, he remembered, Martin and him jumping

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A Dish Best Served Cold from wall to wall to save being eaten by the crocodiles on the path. What an imagination they had. Problem was that this wall was at least 10 feet tall. The walls with the crocodiles were 2 feet at most. He plucked up the courage, taking a deep breath just as he used to when he was a kid. Then he jumped. He could see the crocodiles down below him and did not want to get eaten, so as he landed on the wall, he quickly balanced himself with his arms, and then knelt down on one knee. Not wasting any more time, he got back onto his feet, and used his arms to balance himself as he walked back down the top of the wall towards Joanne’s back garden. He had to be quick because he did not want to be seen. It was ten feet drop, but onto grass, so he jumped, landing on his feet, and then rolled over to take the pressure from his legs. He stood up and brushed himself down. He looked towards the house to see the best way of getting in. The cellar door, he said to himself. I bet they have not locked the cellar door. Running across the lawn in the back garden, he reached the top of the steps that lead down to the cellar. Still checking all around him to see that he was not visible to anyone, He turned the handle on the door. He was right. It was unlocked. He went inside the darkened room, not being able to see hand in front of face, so he wedged open the door that he had just come through with a large stone that he had found on the steps. He also saw some daylight coming through the bottom of the door that led into the actual house, so he followed the light, softly creeping up the steps trying to avoid any creaking on the wood. He put his ear to the door on the inside and listened. There were voices. He could hear both Joanne and her mother and their

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A Dish Best Served Cold voices were quite calm. The baby must be sleeping, he thought to himself, because he could not hear any crying or the pair of them consoling any baby. Now was the time. He struggled with the knob on the door and finally opened it. Then he stepped out into the main hallway. Cheryl screamed out loudly, dropping the glass that she had in her hand as she saw him and wondering how the hell he got in with all the Police that were about. “Joanne!” Cheryl shouted, afraid of the man in front of her, who was now walking towards her, anger on his face. “Joanne!” She stopped as Stephen put his hand on her throat. “Where is my baby?” Joanne appeared to the doorway leading to the living room and froze, putting her hands up to her face. Then she screamed, not as loudly as her mother, but still enough to anger their attacker. “Shut the fuck up,” Stephen shouted. “Both of you!” He looked at Joanne. She was slim again. She had given birth already. “Where is our baby, Joanne?” The girl found herself unable to speak because of the fear of what her ex-boyfriend was going to do, she lightly shook her head. “I won’t ask you again! Where is the baby? I want to see my baby!” Cheryl struggled slightly trying to get away from him, but Stephen tightened his grip on her neck. The girl realised what he was doing, and started to cry, shaking her head in fear. “No, no. Stephen, don’t! Please, let my mother go.” “Give me my baby then!” He loosened the grasp on Cheryl’s neck to try and get Joanne to tell him.

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“No, no. Let her go. I’ll tell you.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t give you the baby,” she said with trembling fear in her voice as she did not know what he was going to do next. She could see that he was unstable, as he once again tightened his grip on Cheryl’s throat because he did not get an answer to his question. “Why not?” He shouted at her. “I want my baby! You have had it because the bump has gone!” Cheryl was slightly choking but managed to speak. “There …is …no …baby!” she gurgled. Stephen froze and then turned his head back to look at the mother. “What?” he asked angrily. “There … is … no … baby!” Cheryl exclaimed as he tightened the grip on her neck so she couldn’t breathe, her body going loose with the grip on her neck, so Stephen let her fall to the ground. “What the fuck does she mean, Joanne?” Stephen shouted at her. “What does she mean by there is no baby?” Joanne was sobbing heavily with a mixture of fear and worry. She started to back away into the Living room. “Stay where you are!” Stephen demanded, putting his foot on her mother’s neck to continue with the choking of her. “There is no baby?” Joanne shook her head and cried, “No!” “What?” “I had an abortion,” she screamed as she ran into the living room and over the window to try and get the attention of the Police Officers stood at the gate. “You took … our child away?” Stephen shouted, firstly attempting to follow her and then as tears come to his eyes, and anger started building up inside him at

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A Dish Best Served Cold a rapid speed, he looked down at Cheryl on the floor and walked back towards her. ‘Kill them. Kill all of them!’ His face filled with anger, his eyes blackened as he put his hands around Cheryl’s throat and started to squeeze even harder than he did before, but this time he didn’t let go and was able to put his full body weight behind him. Then he screamed angrily as he finished the job. The body was limp, and her face was blue, her eyes open but lifeless. ‘The girl! Kill the girl! She killed your baby!’ Stephen got up; a psychotic look on his face as his eyes looked towards the living room. He started to walk in the entrance when suddenly Joanne, who was stood to one side of the archway, crashed down on his head with a glass vase. He fell to the floor. She heard a banging at the front door, it was locked. She had got someone’s attention. She went to rush over and unlock the door, but suddenly Stephen grabbed her leg, and she stumbled. He clambered on top of her, his strength diminishing due to his head injury and the amount of blood he was losing. Grabbing her beautiful blonde hair, he started thumping her head on the ground. “You … killed … my … baby! You … killed … my … baby!” he repeated over and over again as he smashed her head down on the marble floor in time with his calls. “Police! Open up!” were the calls that were coming from the outside to no avail. They started battering down the door with an enforcer, but it was taking longer than normal due to the thickness and size of the door and the strength of the lock. Suddenly the door opened, and two armed officers ran inside.

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“Armed Police! Move away from the girl, get down on your knees!” Stephen looked up with his psychotic eyes. “She … killed … my …baby!” “Move away! If you do not move away, I will shoot!” He did not care about being shot as he felt that his life was over. It was not worth it anymore. The thought of him not being a Dad and not giving his mother a grandson were just too much for him. He looked at the pool of blood around Joanne’s head. “She … killed … my …baby.” The two-armed officers rushed over to him, realising that he had no weapons, and as they did, Stephen’s body relaxed as he realised the fight was over. He stared forward into nothingness, his eyes not even blinking, or not acknowledging anyone around him. The armed officers grabbed him, forced him to the ground and handcuffed him from behind. “We need an ambulance!” Shouted one of the officers, checking to see if Joanne had a pulse. “The girl is still alive. Just!” “This one is a goner,” the other officer shouted. They picked Stephen up onto his feet, he just looked right through them all, and smiled. ‘Well done, Brother. An eye for an eye,’

The Police took him back to Charles Cross Police Station. He never said a word, not even to confirm his name, but his eyes were still darkened and looking like they had bags under both of them. He would not react to anything that was said to him. When told to remove his clothes because they needed them for forensic testing, he just stood there, head tilted to the right, eyes

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A Dish Best Served Cold staring forward and body limp, so one of the custody staff had to remove the clothes and bag them, and then dress him with their usual thin white garments like the forensic team used to prevent contamination of a crime scene. “I think he will need to see the FME,” the desk Sergeant said looking at the zombie in front of him. “He is of no use to anyone in this state.” Looking at Stephen, he commanded, “We are going to put you into a cell now, but the Doctor is going to see you soon.” Nothing. Not even an eye movement. DI Cooper and DS Monahan had heard about the capture and walked into custody suite. “Well done, guys!” DI Cooper congratulated. “This is bloody good news!” “I wouldn’t congratulate them yet. The FME needs to see him. Bishop isn’t saying a word to anyone and is just staring into space.” The Desk Sergeant shuffled the papers on his desk. “I think he may be going to hospital. Until then, we will put him in a cell, and I think he may harm himself so he will be on suicide watch.” DS Monahan looked at DI Cooper. “How long will the FME be?” Cooper asked. “Not long. An hour or so. He is currently in court giving evidence as a witness.” The Desk Sergeant was getting ready to finish his shift. Someone else would take over the custody suite soon, so he didn’t really care because chances are, he wouldn’t be behind the desk. The FME came back from court faster than they thought as DI Cooper and DS Monahan received a call to tell them he was back. He called in the prisoner to

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A Dish Best Served Cold the medical room. Stephen who was escorted by the duty PC, part of the custody team, who spoke nicely to him. “Come in,” the FME said to Stephen in a polite manner. “My name is Dr Marshall and I am the FME for Devon and Cornwall Police based here in Plymouth.” He waited for Stephen to at least sit down, but he didn’t and chose to continue to stand, staring at the floor. “Why don’t you sit down?” Nothing. No movement, no eye contact. The Doctor noticed that his pupils in his eyes were all black and decided to check him over. It was no problem at all to check his pulse, eyes, blood pressure and hearing as Stephen just stood there. “He’s been like this since uniform had brought him in,” The Duty PC who was also guarding the FME said. The FME shines a torch into Stephen’s blackened eyes, but the pupils did not even react to light as they would normally. “Looks like he is out of it. I think we will be transferring him to the Psychiatry unit at the hospital.” The FME looked at Stephen once more. “Absolutely no reaction whatsoever.” He looked at Stephen eye to eye. “Can you tell me your name?” “You don’t think he is trying it on?” The Custody PC asked, trying to come at things from all directions. The FME shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think anyone could fake reactions like this. I’ve heard of some killers in America who are able to control their heartbeat on the lie detector test, but nothing like this. You could hit his funny bone with a hammer, and he wouldn’t budge.” “Yes, I have seen that documentary.”

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The FME thought he would try one last time. “Do you know where you are?” he asked Stephen. No reply, no movement, no reaction. “What is your name?” Stephen did not move his lips but raised his head and looked at the doctor with his blackened eyes. Still nothing, but at least there was movement this time which was a good sign. “I think we can put him back in the cell until I can get it arranged at the hospital.” Stephen looked at the FME once more with those evil blackened eyes. The FME began to feel uneasy about the stare. ‘Go on. Tell him your name. Then kill him!’ Stephen looked over at both men. Without any lip movement, the voice shouted out, “DAVID!” Then he quickly picked up the paper weight on the desk and slammed it on the unsuspecting Doctor’s head several times. The young PC froze and watched in horror as Stephen slaughtered the Doctor and a voice from nowhere laughed psychotically around the room.

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Epilogue

Your life begins and your life ends. The two things that you have absolutely no control of, because the beginning is down to your parents and the medical staff who assist with your birth. When your life ends is controlled by life, by fate if you believe in it. You may just die naturally, or your life may be taken from you. You could be aged nine or ninety. Life controls you. With the end of life comes regret, both from the person dying and the close family who witness the circumstances of death. The dying person may regret not mending that bad feeling with another member of the family, or they might have some other regret relating to what they had not done physically, such as climbing a mountain. The family always regret not being there for them when they needed them the most. There are those that will say that you should never regret anything in your life. It happened. At the particular time in your life it was what you wanted to happen. It cannot be changed. Life is full of paths. You will decide whether to turn left or right and until you find

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A Dish Best Served Cold that side road to get you back, you are on the path of your decision. You do not regret going in the wrong direction, but you feel thankful that you are heading, or you are on, the right path now. When someone is suffering from a mental illness, they can make the wrong decision through no fault of their own. These decisions can be unpremeditated & Spontaneous due to the illness. They may hear voices in the extreme, or they might be controlled by medication that replaces the chemicals in the brain which doctors call the neurotransmitters. That medication may also control mood and emotions. There is only so much emotion that one person can take. Some are more resilient than others to what we call ‘bad luck’. Some will blame God. The world caused these problems, the world should take responsibility for them. Medical services in the UK were originally set up after the second world war for the Prevention of diseases, whereas they are now acting to try and prevent any more cases happening. Until that day, there will always be the one who kills through impulse or premeditation. That is life’s problem.

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