The Death List Read Online Free PDF Page B

tank,” Cath Dunn said, kneeling down by her son. “Where d’you get it?”
    Les looked up from the model of the Mark One Tiger that he’d stolen from Woolworths. “Gran gave me the money. I fetched her shopping for her.”
    Cath smiled. She knew her boy wasn’t being truthful, but she didn’t care. He was a good boy, a lovely boy, with his light hair and nut-brown eyes. And he was so advanced for a twelve-year-old, he knew so much about things—air-planes and tanks, battleships and uniforms. She frowned, hoping that he wouldn’t end up as a squaddie. She remembered how rude they were when they came home on leave, only talking filth and football. But no, her Les wouldn’t be joining the army. He was far too sensitive for that.
    Les shivered as his mother’s hand stroked the back of his neck. He forced himself to concentrate on the turret assembly. Recently, every time she touched him, he’d felt the blood run hot in his veins.
    He put down the model and stood up. “Mum,” he asked plaintively, “can’t we just go? You and me? You can get a job in a shop somewhere else. We can go to another part of London. He’ll never find us. I’ll look after you and…” He let the words trail away when he saw his mother’s face crease and her eyes fill with tears. He put his arm round her thin shoulders. “It’ll be all right, Mum. Honest, I’ll protect you from—”
    “From dirty Billy and his roaming hands?” His father’s voice made them jerk away from each other. He’d taken to coming back from the pub stealthily and sneaking up on them. “Seems to me you’re the one with roaming hands, son. You like the look of yer old mother, do you?” He stepped closer, his right arm raised. “You filthy little pervert!” He brought the hand down hard, but Les moved aside and was caught only a glancing blow on the shoulder.
    “No, Billy!” Cath screamed.
    “Shut your noise, cow!” Billy yelled, giving her a backhanded slap to the face.
    “Stop it!” Les shouted as his mother went down. “That’s enough!” He felt a strength he’d never known. Although his father was six inches taller than he was, his arms thick from years on the building sites, Billy was drunk. He didn’t even see the straight right that broke his nose.
    Les stepped back, amazed at what he had done. His father had crashed back against the wall, blood oozing through the gaps between the fingers that were over his face.
    “You…you…fucking little bastard,” Billy gasped, glancing at his cowering wife. “Tell him, Cath. Tell him what a bastard he is.” He stumbled away, the front door slamming behind him a few seconds later.
    “Are you all right, Mum?” Les asked, raising his mother to her feet. “What did he mean? I’m your son. I’m not a bastard.”
    Cath looked at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and pride. “Thank you, Les,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you for getting him off me.” Her skin on her left cheek was red and raised. “He’s nothing but a pathetic bully.”
    “Yes, but I am your son, aren’t I, Mum?” Les persisted. “What did he mean? What do you have to tell me?”
    Cath led him into the dimly lit sitting room. They sat down on the worn velour sofa.
    “Well, Les, strictly speaking you are our son. We did all the adoption papers when you were a baby. Billy didn’t drink so much then and the checks they did weren’t so tough as they are now. And…I wanted a baby so much.” She started to sob. “I couldn’t have any of my own,” she said, her face averted from him. “There was something wrong inside me. He…your father…Billy…he hurt me. That’s why he couldn’t say no when I wanted to adopt.”
    “But…but who’s my real mother?” Les said, his eyes locked on her.
    Cath smiled nervously. “I am, son. I looked after you when you were a tiny little thing, I’m raising—”
    “Yes, but who did I come out of?” Les said, his voice rising. He could find