Kill For Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

mean, knowing someone on the television. He didn't
want me to telephone you at first, but we had to contact someone and his mother
was at work. He was afraid that this time you wouldn't understand… that you'd
be angry."
    "I am angry. Did the shop get the CDs
back?"
    "One was damaged when he threw it away as he
tried to run."
    "I'll pay for it. But don't let him know
that."
    The probation officer shook her head.
"No." She paused. "I don’t really know Jeroboam, yet, but I
don’t think he's a bad boy!"
    “No,” Kate repeated. “He’s not a bad boy.”
    "I'm sorry." His voice was scarcely
above a whisper.
    Kate concentrated on the road as she drove.
    "I won't do it again."
    She still didn't speak. She was afraid he
probably would do it again or something like it. What she didn’t know was how
to stop him doing it again, and how to get him to go to school in the mornings
instead of roaming around shopping malls and getting into trouble. So she
stayed silent as they drove. She knew he hated her averted eyes, but she didn't
know what to say to him. She couldn't go on reprimanding him for ever without
some sort of punishment.
    Reaching Shepherds Bush she took the opportunity
of pretending to look down a side road to steal a glance at him. He didn't
notice. He was gazing out of the car window, blinking back tears. Sitting
there, small and brown, his ugly little face almost hidden under his mess of
treacle black hair, his jeans badly scuffed and wearing only a yellow T-shirt,
he looked younger than fifteen. He was also shivering slightly. After the
balmy, late summer evening of the previous night’s concert, the temperature had
plunged overnight, and at that moment the first sharp splash of the predicted
rain hit the windscreen.  
    "I'm taking you back to school," she
said at last. "You must stay there all day. The probation officer has
already spoken to your head teacher and he'll be keeping his eye on you."
    There was no response, but she knew he was
listening.
    "You and I were supposed to meet tonight.
Right?"
    At last a slow nod.
    "Well, we're not. The lesson's
cancelled."
    The nod stopped.
    "If you want me to help you, you're going to
have to mend your ways. I'm not going to waste my time teaching a petty thief.
Do you understand?”
    Alongside her his small body was stiff with hurt.
She wished he would look at her and say something, perhaps even answer her
back. But that wasn't Jeroboam’s way. They drove on.
    In the end it was Kate who broke first. She
couldn't bear to think of him being miserable all day. "What CDs did you
take, anyway?" she asked as they drew up outside the iron railings of St
Michael's special needs school.
    He half cleared his throat. "Roots Manuva,
Jay-Z and Twist-O and the Koolboys’ new one."
    "And are they all good?"
    "Yes." He began to open the car door.
    A thought struck her. "I didn't know you had
a CD player."   When almost every
other boy he knew would have an iPod and a computer, Jeroboam was scarcely into
the steam age of music.
    He didn't answer.
    "You haven't stolen one of those, too, have
you? A CD player? Because that’s really serious?"
    "No."
    She waited.
    "Honest."
    She believed him. He was a terrible liar.
"So?" She still wanted an explanation.
    None was offered.
    There was nothing she could do. "All right,
suit yourself, don't tell me. But don't forget what I said."
    "When will we...?"
    "Phone me on Friday. Perhaps I can find some
time for you at the weekend...provided there's no more trouble! Now go! "
    Quickly Jeroboam slipped from the car and,
closing the door quietly, hurried into the schoolyard without looking back.
Kate watched him until he was inside the building, and then waited an extra two
minutes in case he decided to slip out again. Finally, satisfied that he was
going to stay at school, at least for the rest of the morning, she put the car
into gear and started back across London
towards the WSN television studios.
    It was raining quite heavily, the first rain