Twisted River Read Free

have to tell you . . .”
    â€œThere’s something I have to tell you as well,” she interrupted. She would have to get this out of the way.
    â€œOkay, then . . .” He hesitated. “You first.”
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    She told him about Fergus. About the episode in the school yard—the latest installment in a catalog of incidents that now seemed to be descending into a regular pattern of bullying.
    â€œThat little prick!”
    Mannix shook his head, his face gripped by a spasm of anger.
    â€œSo, what’s this? This is the third or fourth time since the new school year. So our Fergus is that little shit’s latest punch-bag?”
    Kate’s stomach knotted. It was true. It looked like Fergus was set to be Frankie’s target for the year. First, there was the disgusting incident with the sandwiches, then the sports bag soaked in urine, and now this.
    â€œFergus doesn’t want me to, but I’m going to the school. I’ve decided.” Kate stood up wearily out of the chair and padded across the polished floorboards.
    Mannix shook his head. “And just what do you hope that will achieve? Come on, Kate. You know what we’re dealing with here. Look what happened to that Polish kid’s dad . . .”
    â€œWhat Polish kid?” asked Kate.
    â€œYou know, the scrawny fella. What’s this the kids call him? Oh, yeah—Polski Sklep.”
    â€œI know who you mean—what happened to his dad?” Kate remembered Polski Sklep being bullied and knew that his mother had gone to the school to complain. But she wasn’t aware of any repercussions beyond that.
    â€œOh, Kate! You don’t think his father’s two broken ribs happened by accident?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” The knot in her stomach pulled tighter.
    â€œPolski Sklep’s father is . . . was . . . a bouncer at a nightclub in town. He got beaten up in the lane outside. That was down to Flynn’s old man.”
    â€œI thought Frankie Flynn’s dad was in prison.”
    â€œAnd you think that stopped him?”
    Kate sighed.
    â€œHow do you know all this, Mannix?” she asked, her plan of action now looking futile.
    â€œSpike.”
    Spike was Mannix’s brother. The other half of the O’Brien brothers. As Kate tossed the vegetables onto the sizzling wok, her face set in afrown. Spike would know. He was in the nightclub business. Spike was in any business that he thought would make him money.
    â€œHi there, honey.” Mannix’s face softened at his daughter, who’d floated silently into the room. She was neatly dressed in her Girl Guides uniform. “Oh, shit . . .” he added.
    â€œAw, Dad, you haven’t forgotten, have you? You said you’d take me to the Guides tonight.”
    â€œNo, no, of course, Izzy, that’s fine. It’s just that . . . no, never mind. Of course I’ll take you.”
    Izzy looked at her mother.
    â€œYou told him, then? About Fergus?”
    â€œYes, I told him,” said Kate, doling out four equally sized portions into black patterned noodle bowls.
    â€œWhat exactly did Frankie Flynn write on that wall?” Mannix looked at Izzy.
    Izzy hesitated a moment as if she didn’t want to say.
    â€œWell?” said Mannix.
    Kate held her breath.
    â€œDo you really want to know, Dad?”
    â€œI really want to know,” said Mannix.
    â€œâ€˜Fergus O’Brien is a fucking spastic,’ that’s what it said.”
    Kate felt like she’d been slapped across the face. For a few moments none of them said anything. Mannix’s eyes narrowed.
    â€œDid it, now?” he said eventually.
    Izzy looked from Kate to Mannix, slowly drinking in their reactions.
    â€œI hate Frankie Flynn.” Izzy’s voice was ice-cold.
    â€œDon’t you worry about that little bollocks,” said