Locked in

No more school. Great! Mervyn could never concentrate. He stopped caring the day it challenged him. Long division was pointless when you could just say ‘OK Google”. Instead, he stared out of the window and imagined battles in the stars. Now it was over as the whole world took pause.

Other parents collected their kids in cars. The type of maths Mervyn enjoyed was working out how stupid it was to drive to school. He wondered how much it cost in petrol? It was hilarious that he could walk the mile or so home faster than Sarah who lived across the road. Underneath he was jealous but could not admit it. He once had a crush on her. Not any more, he convinced himself. “Idiot”, he thought, as her mother drove past in her silver SUV with Sarah in the passenger seat and nobody in the back.

He felt a fearful flush in his belly when he set eyes on the Kinsella brothers. They had snatched his phone months ago and had been picking on him since. He wanted to run but knew it would make it worse so willed his feet forwards. Was he walking at all like his unconscious gait now he had to think about it? He imagined what they would say to him. Probably something about his dirty red jacket or the cheap runners that weren’t Nike. 'Pervyn-Meryvn' they called him and it made him want to cry, to leave school and never come back. He sucked it up and carried on like he always had. 

“Alright Mervyn”, said the oldest of the two. Mervyn's shoulders instinctively tensed in anticipation of a blow to the back of his head which did not materialise. He shivered as he put a couple of steps between them. Were they ready to leave him alone? “Aawwi,” he mumbled, feeling stupid for making such a feeble noise. As the distance increased, fear sensations faded but he could not relax. He knew how his night was going to be the moment he walked into the third-floor-flat in the sprawling estate that was home. Then he might be able to relax, or maybe not, so he decided to stay out a while. He had money he had stolen in his pocket, so decided to get a roll.

Have you any ciggies left?”

Andie looked over to the man who had just walked through the door of the flat a little earlier than usual.

“I haven't enough money,” she replied.

“I gave you a tenner last night, what did you do with it?”

Andie bit her bottom lip. She knew where it had gone “It’s 12 for a packet Pat.” She replied, sidestepping the question without lying.

She still loved Pat a little - he was handsome when he washed away the smell of coolant from the factory. She liked his stubble. His dark hair was starting to grey but it was not receding like many men his age. He was slim. She couldn’t imagine how? He ate whatever he wanted and lots of it.

She barely ate at all. Sometimes, not once in a day. It was a battle to keep her stomach from curling over the top of her jeans but if she fasted for too long her breasts would sag and she was sure Pat hated that. She looked in the mirror for the hundredth time that day, as if she was looking for a brown-eyed teenager to smile back. She pouted to make her jaw look longer. She liked her hair, jet black and shoulder length. It had a blueish tinge under certain light and not one strand of grey. She held it up in a bun above her crown. “Not bad for an auld wan,” She said out loud, without believing.

Long days passed. Without work Pat was miserable and agitated and was not shy in letting her know. Things were starting to get tense in the flat and she wasn’t allowed to Maebh downstairs any more. To make things worse the neighbours had started passing the endless hours by drinking. “Kurwa mac!”, one of them shouted.

“Jesus Christ,” she thought, she needed one herself.

She was worried. It was dark. Mervyn had broken the curfew again. The things she wanted to get with this week's double social welfare payment were selling out fast according to Facebook. She fumbled in the handbag for the blister packet of Xanax Maebh had given her. She began to panic, she was always putting stuff down and forgetting where it was. She found them and popped one out, chewing it to make it work quickly. She slipped out a menthol cigarette from the packet on the metal shelf Mervyn’s Dad had bought in Argos when she was still his baby. She stepped out of the front door onto the balcony walkway they shared with eight more flats, leaned over the railing and inhaled smoke.

A radio crackled: “Bravo, Delta, 102, are you receiving, over.”

“Go ahead,” said the Guard in the passenger seat.

“We have an ambulance assist required in Maple flats are you close?”

“Control, we’re en route to the flats opposite, we have a juvenile to escort home, ETA to attendance one minute, over.”

“It’s a lucky day for you Mervyn,” said the driver without turning around. “Go straight home now; next time we’ll charge you for breaking the curfew.”

The car pulled up behind an ambulance. Mervyn got out after the Guards, and peered in through the open door.

“Go,” said the guard who had driven.

Too late, he had seen.

It was dark now. The lights of the city dominated the near horizon. Blue flashing lights approached in silence and parked outside a ground floor flat in a block across the green. Now she thought about it she hadn’t seen Mrs Keane in over a week. She had heard she was sick but you couldn’t believe anything in this neighbourhood. She felt the Xanax wash over her in a wave of sickly calmness. Now Pat could touch her. 

The neighbours had come out to watch the ambulance below. A Police car pulled up. Two officers exited the front and a boy hopped out the back. Was that? She squinted through the flashing lights that made movement look faster than it really was. Mervyn! She wanted to shout but Pat would hear and she had lied when she told him Mervyn was at his diversion meeting.

“Where have you been?” She hissed and clipped the top of her son's head with an open palm. “Go straight to your room, say nuttin' to him.”

“Mrs Keane is dead.” said Mervyn as he walked past his Mam who was too angry, too relieved and too stoned to care.
“I knew it was too late,” said Andie as she pushed the trolley through the centre aisle in Aldi.

“Hurry up would ya?” growled Pat. “I’d be quicker myself.”

Pat wanted to say more, she was fierce cheeky this morning. A busy shop wasn't the time to say anything. He’d had enough of her now. He would move out but rents were too high, she wasn’t a bad cook and she was still attractive. Not that he fancied her now she was so skinny. A trolley crashed into theirs.

“Watch it.” He said, as toilet rolls and tinned food fell to the floor. The top of the hand sanitiser came off as it landed beside them, leaving a slippery trail.

“Eejit,” said the shopper.

“Let's get this done.” said Pat.

“But, I've got to get Mervyn's present.”

“Does he deserve it?”

Andie knew better than to argue. There was no fresh food left anyway. Shelves were bare and the queues were long and angry looking. The drive home was silent which beat the alternatives. This was a testing time. She looked at herself in the rear-view-mirror. She hated the lines around her lips but a 24 hour a day stretch with Pat and Mervyn was not the time to quit smokes.

It has been over a week now. The neighbours were loud. Despite not knowing their language, Mervyn thought it sounded more fun than what was used to. The rumbling hiss of traffic from the motorway close by was odd by its absence. He thought the quietness was louder than noise. The flat was too small - school was better than this. When were they going back? Who could he ask now his smartphone was gone. Not that it mattered, he had no friends since the Kinsellas had started bullying him. He felt lonely. He had been in his bedroom since Mrs Keane had died. She used to give him sweets when he was little. He wanted a PlayStation so he could escape into an online world but he long ago stopped hoping for nice things.

Mam and Pat were shouting at each other, again. “Stop it!” he heard her shout. He could hear every word but chose not to listen. He waited till Pat slammed the bedroom door and heard Mam chopping vegetables in the kitchen. He crept into the sitting room towards the metal shelf he helped his real Dad build. He had a vague memory of tenderness. When the curfew was up he would run away and find him.

Andie couldn’t suppress the tears as she chopped carrots. This was it, she couldn’t last another hour let alone a week. What a time to do it. Her heart broke for Mervyn. She had planned to use this month's child benefit to get him a PlayStation to whittle away the curfew. Twice now the Guards had dropped him home. Another time and she’d be fined. Now she needed it to get to her mothers in Clare so she brought him a new jacket instead. Things had deteriorated quickly.

Were any taxi's running? Could she get a room for the night? She would check her phone in a minute. Would Maebh let her stay for a while? How long could they hide there? It would be the first place he looked. Would the Guards help or were they busy elsewhere this week? She decided to bring Mervyn downstairs and make a plan as soon the meat was in the oven. She put the knife down and opened the oven door. If Pat thought she had to come back to finish dinner he might let them out. That would buy her a couple of hours to get clear.

Mervyn had no idea how long he’d been asleep when the screaming began: “I saw what you messaged her!”  His mouth was dry, his body felt warm and soft like he was covered in pillows. He clambered to his feet and staggered. The empty blister packet fell to the floor. He reached out for the wall on the far side of the room. He wasn’t scared of anything now. He wasn’t going to let him hurt Mam again.

Andie was crying and Pat was on top of her, shouting. Neither of them noticed the child stumble into the kitchen.

A man opened the door to the boy covered in blood with pin size pupils and foam coming out of his mouth. ‘“Kurwa! what...what...happened?

The boy brushed by and collapsed into the tree in the corner of the living room.

The Kinsella's stood on their second floor balcony in Maple flats adorned in brand new outfits and watched the Guards gently lift a boy into the back of the car. The paramedics carried out a heavy stretcher. A woman was on her knees outside the door of the flat. “Curfew wasn’t enough, if they locked him up for sending you those messages, this wouldn’t have happened” said Mr Kinsella to his daughter. A tear dropped from Sarah’s eye. “Dad, it’s Christmas Day for God-sakes, no one ever gave him a break”