NOTE:
When I write my first drafts, I get to know my characters as I go along. Sometimes I write extra snippets – small scenes or moments that are never intended to be included in the book. I drop the characters into a situation or just ‘visit’ a moment in their lives and observe. It helps me to get to know them better. Below is one of these snippets. It’s written from Uncle Charlie’s point of view and is set in the 1980s, when he and Henry (Charlie’s older brother and Lydia’s dad) were young men.
—
Charlie idolised his older brother and deferred to him in every respect, but there were times when he wanted to punch him in his smug, sensible face.
‘You can’t go to The Seven Stars,’ Henry was saying. ‘It’s not our territory.’
‘The truce means we can go anywhere we want,’ Charlie replied, slouching a little further in his seat. ‘That’s the point.’
They were sitting in The Fork cafe after their father had summoned them for a meeting. It had, as always, been more of a bollocking than a meeting, and Charlie was feeling in need of something strong to drink and a little distraction.
‘No,’ Henry said, casually levitating his coin above the table top like it was nothing. ‘The point is that we stick to our areas, mind our own business, and don’t mess with each other’s things. Something I know you find hard to comprehend.’
This last comment was because Charlie had taken Henry’s car to drive a girl to Dulwich Park. Henry’s girl, if anybody was keeping score. Which they definitely were.
‘I’m going,’ Charlie said. ‘That sort work hard and play hard. And they’re all rolling in cash. Sounds like the perfect hunting ground.’
Henry caught the coin in his hand, palmed it to his pocket. He was frowning. ‘You shouldn’t talk about dating like that. It’s disrespectful.’
‘Lawyers,’ Charlie replied, ‘can look after themselves.’
The Seven Stars was a venerable old pub, tucked in the shadow of The Royal Justice Courts and slap-bang in the middle of Silver territory. At six in the evening it was packed, the well-dressed patrons spilling out onto the pavement. Henry had come with him, of course. He said it was to make sure Charlie didn’t get spirited away by a Silver, but Charlie knew better. His brother liked to act high and mighty, but his head would be turned by a pretty girl just as easily as Charlie’s.
‘Watch out!’ A red-faced man was carrying three pints in his hands and he glared at Charlie. A second later he muttered an apology and swiftly melted into the crowd. Charlie didn’t know if the man had just seen a large scowling man who still bore the scabs of his last fist fight on his knuckles, or whether his reputation had stretched this far from Camberwell. His chest ached with the longing for it to be the latter.
The press of people seemed to part for Henry and he was already in the far corner, sitting at a hastily-vacated table. A cat wearing an Elizabethan ruff was on the table, back arched and hissing its disapproval. Henry was studiously ignoring it.
‘I’ll go to the bar, then?’ Charlie muttered to himself. Henry was the first born, and the heir to their father’s throne. It chafed at Charlie, as did Henry’s insouciant use of Crow power. It was like he didn’t realise how lucky he was, how hard Charlie worked to keep up.
The bar was mobbed, but he caught the eye of the blonde barmaid. She had curly hair, all caught up in a tortoiseshell comb on the top of her head, and bright red lips. She gave him a warm smile after he ordered two pints and he made a note that if he didn’t pick up some rich lawyer, he’d ask her what time her shift finished.
Dumping the drinks on the table, Charlie told Henry he had dibs on the barmaid.
Henry picked up his pint, but didn’t respond.
That was another thing that boiled Charlie’s piss. Henry exuded disapproval without saying a word. He acted like he was above it all. Charlie looked around, checking out other possible conquests, but also looking for any potential problems. He might have told Henry it was fine, but they were in Silver territory and it made sense to be a little bit careful. That was the point – if it was completely safe, it wouldn’t be any fun.
Henry drained half his drink and then let his head fall back. Charlie noticed that he hadn’t produced his coin. And that he looked tired. Maybe even more serious than usual, which was really saying something.
‘You hear what he said?’ Henry said suddenly.
‘Who?’ Charlie looked around.
‘Him.’
Charlie caught the tone of voice and didn’t have to clarify. Henry meant their father. Jack wasn’t the kind of father you called ‘dad’ and who played games with you and read bedtime stories. He was the kind of father who worked all day every day and who you saw at prescribed times for discipline or to perform. One thing that had saved Charlie’s relationship with Henry had been that he had been equally hard on them both. Maybe even harder on Henry, the first born. However much Charlie felt envious of Henry, for his position in the Family and his power, he knew first hand that Henry hadn’t been given any special favours. Jack was a bastard to them both.
‘What about?’ Charlie put his glass down, realising that he had drained most of it the moment Henry had mentioned dear old dad.
‘Nothing,’ Henry said, shaking his head. ‘Forget it. We shouldn’t be talking here, anyway.’ He cut his eyes to the suit-wearing crowd.
‘Fine by me,’ Charlie said, wiping his mouth. He didn’t drag his arse across the river to talk shop. He wanted to have some fucking fun for once.
‘You’re new,’ a voice said from his left. Like he had conjured it. He turned to greet the owner of the cut-glass vowels and found it belonged to a pretty face framed in a halo of brown curls. She was wearing a grey checked dress with enormous buttons down the front and her pink frosted lipstick was imprinted on the glass of white wine in her hand.
‘Well spotted, darling. Is that why they pay you the big bucks?’
She laughed. ‘Hardly. I’m just a clerk.’
He had been after fun and money, but he wouldn’t mind taking one of the two. The night was still young, after all.
—
Later that night, Henry was still sitting in the same place, ignoring the weird cat that appeared to have bonded with him, and drinking his way steadily to a marginally more mellow version of his usual tight-arse self. Charlie had enjoyed some female company, details of which he would keep to himself (he was a bastard, but he wasn’t a tacky bastard), and he had relieved an arsehole in a bespoke suit from his wallet on his way out of the door. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough, but he felt more in control than he had after the meeting with his father. More like he wasn’t about to set fire to something.
‘All right. We can sod off now,’ he said to his brother.
Henry looked up from his pint. ‘You’re done?’
‘For now.’
Henry smiled. ‘Wine in. Truth out.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve had a few. It’s making you more transparent.’
‘Fuck you,’ Charlie said. More as a matter of habit than any real annoyance. The alcohol had smoothed everything out.
‘It’s Dickens,’ Henry said, standing. ‘I think.’
‘Oh don’t bloody start,’ Charlie said, without much heat. He was wondering whether to get the barmaid’s number before he left.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Henry said mildly. But there was an edge to his voice and his smile was dangerous.
Charlie wondered how much his brother had drunk, sitting alone at the little table all night with crowds of people parting around him like he was an island. That was the thing with Henry. He acted above it all, but he was still a Crow. And only a fool would forget it.
They walked into the dark street. It was approaching last orders and people were drinking with a purpose. Didn’t matter that this crowd were wearing office clothes and paying with shiny gold credit cards, pubs in this part of town felt the same as the places in Camberwell. Underneath it all.
Henry turned as if to walk away, but then paused. Without saying a word to Charlie he went back inside the pub.
Charlie assumed he had gone for a piss, but when he returned, he was towing a woman by the elbow.
‘I’m going. I’m going home. I’m sleepy,’ she slurred. Her feet stumbled on the pavement and if Henry hadn’t been gripping her arm, she would have fallen.
Henry didn’t respond.
A moment later a man burst out of the pub door and caught up to them. He had a red face and an expensive suit and a mop of sandy hair that looked ridiculous. Like a kid. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Charlie’s hook-up had been nicely-spoken, this guy sounded like a politician.
‘I’m taking her home,’ Henry said mildly. ‘And you can sod off back to the pub.’
The man stopped moving. His mouth hung open like a trout. Charlie knew that after the moment of shock, he would close his mouth and start swinging. Or, maybe these lawyer types wouldn’t punch. Maybe he would just start drafting a legal case. He didn’t really know. Either way, he wasn’t going to let it get far enough to find out. Charlie stepped forward, chin up.
Henry, his arm still firmly holding the woman’s elbow, produced his coin in his other hand. He flipped it into the air and it seemed to spin more slowly than it should have done.
The red-faced man stared at the coin, completely mesmerised.
‘Sod off back to the pub,’ Henry said quietly. ‘Have a last drink.’
The man turned away, his mouth closing, his face a mask of confusion.
Henry moved on, like it was nothing, leaving Charlie to follow. Expecting Charlie to just follow.
‘Right,’ Henry said, once they had gone round the corner and joined a street with traffic.
‘I’m going home,’ the woman said, trying half-heartedly to pull away from Henry.
‘As you wish,’ Henry said. He stepped into the road and hailed a passing taxi.
Charlie didn’t know if there were always shed loads of taxis in this part of London or whether it had been pure luck on his brother’s part, but he put it down to Henry’s charmed bloody life. Charlie was the one who did all the dirty work and had to try harder than anyone else because people were watching, but Henry was the one who got to step into the road just as a taxi was coming and put a woman in the back of it like some kind of shining knight. Knight in shining armour. Whatever.
‘We’re not getting that, then?’ Charlie said, glancing at the tail lights of the black cab. The back of the woman’s head visible through the rear window.
‘Thought we’d walk. I want to clear my head.’
‘What was that?’ Charlie asked after ten minutes of walking. ‘Did she ask for your help?’ His brother couldn’t resist a damsel in distress. It was part of his ‘I’m better than everyone else’ schtick. Charlie felt the familiar burn of jealousy in his guts. If he had been the first born, if he had the Crow power, he would be able to afford to be a knight. What his sainted brother didn’t seem to realise was that it wasn’t a luxury Charlie could afford. He had to fight for every little scrap and it left him fucking exhausted.
Henry shook his head, a small secretive smile on his face. ‘That guy was a dick.’
It took Charlie a beat to realise that his brother really wasn’t about to launch into one of his famous ‘saving the world’ sermons. ‘You were messing with him?’
Henry shrugged. Then he revealed one of his rare, genuine smiles. ‘I was bored.’