A Place of Hiding

“It happens, Bill.”


“Not to me!” Billy shouted. He released his father’s arm and shoved him. He shoved him once, then twice, then a third time, and Ol Fielder did nothing to stop him. “Fight me, you fuck.” Billy cried with each shove. “Fight me. Fight me.”

On the bed Paul watched this through a blur. Dimly somewhere else in the house, he heard Taboo barking and voices going on. Telly, he thought. And, Where’s Mum? Can’t she hear ? Won’t she come to stop him?

Not that she could. Not that anyone could, now or ever. Billy had liked the violence of butchering, implied though it had been. He had liked the cleavers and the blows to the meat that severed flesh from bone or bone itself into pieces. That being gone from his life, he’d had an itch for months to feel the power once again of decimating something, of slicing it down till there was nothing left. It was all pent up inside him—this need to do harm—and he was about to gratify it.

“Won’t fight with you, Billy,” Ol Fielder said as his son shoved him a final time. The backs of his legs were against the side of the bed, and he sank down onto it. “Won’t fight you, son.”

“Too afraid you’d lose? Come on. Get up.” And Billy used the heel of his hand sharply against his father’s shoulder. Ol Fielder winced. Billy grinned without humour. “Yeah. Tha’s it. Have a taste of it now? Get up, you sod. Get up. Get up. ”

Paul reached for his father, to pull him to a safety that didn’t exist. Billy turned on him next. “You keep away, wanker. Out of this. Hear? We got business, him and me.” He grabbed his father’s jaw and squeezed it, twisting his head to one side so Paul could clearly see his father’s face. “Check this mug out,” Billy told him. “Pathetic worm. Won’t fight no one.”

Taboo’s barking got louder. Voices came near.

Bill brought his father’s face back around. He pinched his nose and grabbed both of his ears. “Wha’s it going to take?” he mocked him. “What makes you into a real man, Dad?”

Ol shoved his son’s hands away from his head. “Enough!” His voice was loud.

“Already?” Billy laughed. “Dad, Dad. We’re just starting up.”

“I said enough!” Ol Fielder shouted.

This was what Billy wanted and he danced away in delight. His hands made fists and he laughed, punching triumphantly at the air. He turned back to his father and mimicked the fancy footwork of a boxer. He said,

“Where d’you want it, then? In here or outside?”

He advanced on the bed, throwing jabs and thrusts. But only one of them connected with their father’s body—a blow to the temple—before the room seemed full of people. Blue-uniformed men came crashing through the door, followed by Mave Fielder carrying Paul’s youngest sibling. Right behind her were the two middle boys, jam on their faces and toast in their hands.

Paul thought they’d come to separate his father and his oldest brother. Somehow someone had rung the police and they’d been nearby, so close as to be able to get here in record time. They would take care of matters and drag Billy away. They’d lock him up, and there’d be peace in the house at last.

But what happened was something far different. One said, “Paul Fielder?” to Billy. “You Paul Fielder?” as the other advanced on Paul’s brother. That one said, “What’s going on here, sir?” to Paul’s father. “Is there some sort of trouble?”

Ol Fielder said no. No, there was no trouble here, just a family squabble that was being sorted out. This your boy Paul, the constable wanted to know.

“They want our Paulie,” Mave Fielder said to her husband. “They won’t say why, Ol.”

Billy crowed. “Caught you at last, you tosser,” he said to Paul. “Been making a real spectacle of yourself at the public loo? Warned you about hanging about down there, di’n’t I?”

Paul quivered against the headboard of his bed. He saw that one of his younger brothers was holding on to Taboo’s collar. The dog was continuing to bark, and one of the constables said, “Will you shut that thing up?”

“Got a gun?” Billy asked with a laugh.

“Bill!” Mave cried. Then, “Ol? Ol? What’s this about?”

But, of course, Ol Fielder knew no more than anyone else. Taboo continued to bark. He squirmed, trying to get away from Paul’s youngest brother.

The constable ordered, “Do something about that bloody animal!”

Taboo just wanted to be released, Paul knew. He just wanted to reassure himself that Paul wasn’t hurt. The other constable said, “Here. Let me...” And he grabbed Taboo’s collar to drag him away.