LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER FIVE – FACE OF A FOE

      THERE IT WAS. Hardly a hundred metres from where Jimmy had been hesitating, the police station sat like a comforting smile washed in blue light. It was set back from the road slightly, which is why he hadn’t seen it from the corner. Now he ran through the door like it was home.

      He rushed through the brightly-lit lobby up to the desk. There was no one else in there except for the officer behind the desk, and another sitting on a bench by the door, nursing a bloody nose and holding an ice-pack to his forehead. Jimmy threw a glance at him, but the officer looked away hurriedly and pretended to read the notice boards.

      “Hello, son. Can I help you?” said the officer behind the desk. He spoke in a deep voice that sounded friendly to Jimmy, but at the same time a little scary. Maybe that was because it was coming from a man who was well over six feet tall. Jimmy had never actually spoken to a policeman before. His words troubled over each other, confusing his tongue. He didn’t know where to begin.

      “My parents…I was in my house…these men came…they chased me, but that was later…I don’t know…and my sister, but…” Then Jimmy stopped because he realised he was crying. He let the tears come like warm comfort on his chilled face. The fluorescent lights blurred in his eyes and the huge policeman came round to Jimmy’s side of the desk.

      “That’s all right, Jimmy. Come and sit down.” At the sound of his name, Jimmy immediately tensed up again and stopped crying. He felt the officer’s huge hand on the top of his head. It guided him gently but firmly to the bench.

      “I’m Sergeant Atkinson,” said the policeman. He was limping, but trying not to show it. Jimmy had to step over a fire extinguisher that was lying on the floor, and push past a small table. “That shouldn’t be there, sorry,” said the sergeant as he bent down. With one strong arm he snatched up the fire extinguisher, setting it upright next to the door.

      The policeman with the blood all over his face stood up as soon as Jimmy sat down. He went past the desk and pushed through the doors, out of sight.

      “How do you know my name?” Jimmy’s voice was meek, quiet.

      “Your neighbours called and told us everything that happened.”

      “Mr Higgins?”

      “No, Mr and Mrs Bourne.”

      Jimmy didn’t know the neighbours on the other side. He had never even seen them. There was usually a car in the driveway, like there was in every driveway, but he had never seen anybody coming or going.

      “Why didn’t you go round to them for help when it all happened?” said Sergeant Atkinson.

      “I don’t know. I didn’t think of it, I suppose.” Jimmy considered whether he should have just gone next door, but it didn’t feel right. It was too close to home. Surely by now his house was crawling with men in suits waiting for him to come back. They would have found him easily if he had just been next door.

      “They would have helped you, Jimmy. They were waiting for you to come round.”

      “What do you mean, they were waiting? Why didn’t they call the police? Call you, I mean?”

      “They did, of course,” explained the sergeant. “That’s how we know what happened.” Jimmy was starting to feel silly now, but he was sure he hadn’t acted stupidly. It had all felt so dangerous–like he had to get away from the house as soon as he could.

      “But…if they called the police,” Jimmy stammered, “why didn’t you come?”

      “We did. But you had run off.” Sergeant Atkinson patted Jimmy on the head as if to comfort him. But Jimmy was thinking. He was trying to push away the tiredness and the fear, forcing his thoughts and memories into some kind of order.

      “But I didn’t. I was at my house,” Jimmy said, almost to himself.

      The policeman stood up to welcome one of his colleagues coming through the swing doors behind the desk. It was a young policewoman, beaming at Jimmy.

      “I was at my house,” Jimmy said again.

      Sergeant Atkinson turned round and gave him a questioning frown.

      “No, you jumped out the window and ran off,” he said.

      “No I—How did you know I jumped out the window?”

      “The Bournes told us. They saw the whole thing. Your neighbours.” The policewoman was speaking now. She was in uniform just like the others, but seemed a lot shinier. Maybe it was the smile. “There have been a lot of police officers looking for you all night,” she said, in a way that made Jimmy feel like it was his fault.

      “But, I was just…” Jimmy stopped himself. If so many people were looking for him, why hadn’t he seen a single policeman? Or any police cars?

      Jimmy stood up and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve.

      “Who’s after me? Why are they chasing me?” Jimmy was glad he’d had a chance to cry, to let out some of the confusion. Now his head was clearing. The lights in the station had woken him up a little, too. He picked up his bag and shifted from foot to foot. The police officers looked at each other. It was the woman that spoke first.

      “Don’t think about that now. Let’s get—”

      “Who’s after me? If you know, tell me.” Jimmy had been through too much already to have secrets kept from him. But his question was only greeted with silence. “Why aren’t you telling me?” Jimmy was getting more and more impatient, but it was hard to raise his voice at police officers. He waited a second, then he let go and shouted: “Why aren’t you telling me?”

      More policemen emerged at the back of the room. They were all big, and none of them was smiling.

      “What are they all doing here if they’re meant to be out looking for me?” Something was wrong. It was obvious. There was no way that any neighbours could have seen him jump out of the window. And if anybody had been watching, they would have seen him hide under the car then go back to the house.

      The sergeant spoke at last, but it wasn’t good enough for Jimmy.

      “Sit down, Jimmy. You’re tired and overexcited. We’re here to help,” he blathered.

      “I’m leaving now,” said Jimmy, edging towards the door. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be OK, though.” There were half a dozen policemen now. One of them strode over to the front door. One of them crossed his arms and stayed by the swing doors at the back. Another one slipped in behind the desk and put his hand on the receiver of the phone. Jimmy could feel that dark ball welling up inside him.

      “I’m going to stay with my cousins, so I’ll be fine.” He tried to stop it, to push it back down, but it was fuelled by anger now. Jimmy could feel it growing darker and larger than it had before. Please, he said to himself, don’t try and fight all these policemen. Perhaps they’re on my side. But in his heart, he was just uncertain enough.

      “There’s no need to go, Jimmy. We can sort this out.”

      “Goodbye.”

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