fists and shut her eyes. ‘I want a fag.’
Kaz watched, blankly, calmly, as Natalie started to chant. ‘I want a fag. I want a fag. I want a fag—’
This was too much for Joey. He hurled the remote at the sofa, narrowly missing Ashley’s head.
‘Christ almighty, will someone give her a fuckin’ fag!’
Kaz shot him a look and inclined her head towards the doorway. ‘Can I have a word?’
Joey stomped down the hall to the small kitchenette. It was worse than the sitting room, a narrow galley, cartons of congealed food furred with mould littering both counters. Kaz followed him in
and pulled the sliding door to. Penned in he turned to face her.
‘Now you seen it for yerself. Satisfied?’
Kaz looked at him, tears were welling up in her eyes. ‘How could you let this happen?’
Joey stared at her in disbelief. ‘Me? Ain’t nothing I could do!’
Kaz erupted, the tears were coursing down her cheeks now. ‘This your idea of taking care of things while I was away? It’s all bollocks Joey! She didn’t get like this overnight.
Where the fuck were you?’
Joey’s lower lip quivered. Kaz’s dark gaze was boring right into him. ‘I . . . we . . . she wouldn’t have it. Mum tried—’
‘
Mum
tried? Mum! And gave up after five minutes no doubt, soon as it got a little bit awkward or inconvenient.’ Kaz jabbed her index finger in his chest. ‘So you all
closed your eyes, turned your backs, walked away.’
‘No! It weren’t like—’
‘You tell me how it was then. How did a bright twelve-year-old kid turn into an eighteen-year-old crackhead?’
‘I don’t know.’ Joey started to cry too. He booted one of the kitchen cabinets, caving the door right in. ‘I don’t fucking know! It’s not my fault.’
Kaz stared at him and she saw her father, his shadowy bulk filling her bedroom doorway. Once she’d been removed from the scene it was easy to imagine how he’d transferred his
attentions to Natalie. If only she’d been there, she could’ve stopped it. The anger and bitterness rose in Kaz and like a filthy black bile engulfed everything. Joey and his tears, his
excuses, seemed pathetic to her. He was flinging his arms about now like a petulant child; he punched a cupboard door, swept dirty crockery on the floor. Kaz stood stock-still, indifferent to his
childish fury.
‘Look at you Mr Big Business.’ She laughed sourly. ‘You reckon you know it all? Gonna become rich and successful. You couldn’t even sort out your little sister. You stood
by and let her turn into a junkie. What use are you?’
Joey stopped in his tracks. He stared right at her, the intense, hypnotic gaze. His voice was cold and detached. ‘That what you really think?’
Kaz stared right back at him but she didn’t reply. She was miles away, years away, before, if there ever was a before, searching her mind in vain for a time of childhood and innocence.
Joey pushed past her, practically yanked the sliding kitchenette door off its runners. He stormed into the sitting room, seized Jez by the throat and lifted him bodily off the sofa. Jez’s
glasses tumbled to the floor, he looked like a startled fawn; Joey had one arm round his neck, trapping it in a vice-like grip, the other under his flailing legs. He strode across the room to the
open balcony door and holding Jez’s gangling body horizontally he stepped through it, hoisted him up to shoulder height and threw him off the balcony.
Kaz returned to the room in time to see Jez disappearing. He made no sound, he was simply gone.
Joey stepped back into the room with a satisfied smirk on his face. He met Kaz’s astonished look. ‘You wanted it sorted, it’s sorted. Okay?’
He scooped the car keys from Ashley’s hand, marched down the hallway straight out of the flat, slamming the door behind him. Kaz rushed out on to the balcony and looked down. Thirteen
floors below, Jez’s broken body was splayed face up across one of the council wheelie bins, neck and
Kaz watched, blankly, calmly, as Natalie started to chant. ‘I want a fag. I want a fag. I want a fag—’
This was too much for Joey. He hurled the remote at the sofa, narrowly missing Ashley’s head.
‘Christ almighty, will someone give her a fuckin’ fag!’
Kaz shot him a look and inclined her head towards the doorway. ‘Can I have a word?’
Joey stomped down the hall to the small kitchenette. It was worse than the sitting room, a narrow galley, cartons of congealed food furred with mould littering both counters. Kaz followed him in
and pulled the sliding door to. Penned in he turned to face her.
‘Now you seen it for yerself. Satisfied?’
Kaz looked at him, tears were welling up in her eyes. ‘How could you let this happen?’
Joey stared at her in disbelief. ‘Me? Ain’t nothing I could do!’
Kaz erupted, the tears were coursing down her cheeks now. ‘This your idea of taking care of things while I was away? It’s all bollocks Joey! She didn’t get like this overnight.
Where the fuck were you?’
Joey’s lower lip quivered. Kaz’s dark gaze was boring right into him. ‘I . . . we . . . she wouldn’t have it. Mum tried—’
‘
Mum
tried? Mum! And gave up after five minutes no doubt, soon as it got a little bit awkward or inconvenient.’ Kaz jabbed her index finger in his chest. ‘So you all
closed your eyes, turned your backs, walked away.’
‘No! It weren’t like—’
‘You tell me how it was then. How did a bright twelve-year-old kid turn into an eighteen-year-old crackhead?’
‘I don’t know.’ Joey started to cry too. He booted one of the kitchen cabinets, caving the door right in. ‘I don’t fucking know! It’s not my fault.’
Kaz stared at him and she saw her father, his shadowy bulk filling her bedroom doorway. Once she’d been removed from the scene it was easy to imagine how he’d transferred his
attentions to Natalie. If only she’d been there, she could’ve stopped it. The anger and bitterness rose in Kaz and like a filthy black bile engulfed everything. Joey and his tears, his
excuses, seemed pathetic to her. He was flinging his arms about now like a petulant child; he punched a cupboard door, swept dirty crockery on the floor. Kaz stood stock-still, indifferent to his
childish fury.
‘Look at you Mr Big Business.’ She laughed sourly. ‘You reckon you know it all? Gonna become rich and successful. You couldn’t even sort out your little sister. You stood
by and let her turn into a junkie. What use are you?’
Joey stopped in his tracks. He stared right at her, the intense, hypnotic gaze. His voice was cold and detached. ‘That what you really think?’
Kaz stared right back at him but she didn’t reply. She was miles away, years away, before, if there ever was a before, searching her mind in vain for a time of childhood and innocence.
Joey pushed past her, practically yanked the sliding kitchenette door off its runners. He stormed into the sitting room, seized Jez by the throat and lifted him bodily off the sofa. Jez’s
glasses tumbled to the floor, he looked like a startled fawn; Joey had one arm round his neck, trapping it in a vice-like grip, the other under his flailing legs. He strode across the room to the
open balcony door and holding Jez’s gangling body horizontally he stepped through it, hoisted him up to shoulder height and threw him off the balcony.
Kaz returned to the room in time to see Jez disappearing. He made no sound, he was simply gone.
Joey stepped back into the room with a satisfied smirk on his face. He met Kaz’s astonished look. ‘You wanted it sorted, it’s sorted. Okay?’
He scooped the car keys from Ashley’s hand, marched down the hallway straight out of the flat, slamming the door behind him. Kaz rushed out on to the balcony and looked down. Thirteen
floors below, Jez’s broken body was splayed face up across one of the council wheelie bins, neck and
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