For Your Own Protection
Paul Pilkington
PROLOGUE
The 4 x 4 took the corner at speed, before mounting the kerb and slamming into the cyclist. The bike was propelled for many metres, skimming along the road like a polished stone on a calm lake. The man rolled over the bonnet, smashed into the windscreen, and was lifted high into the air, over the roof of the vehicle, before crashing down on to the tarmac.
The vehicle did not stop.
Did not slow.
In his last moments, a strange thought came to the dying man.
My cycle helmet. Someone took it.
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Matt Roberts flopped down, exhausted, on to the yellow sofa in the staffroom, and looked across at his younger sister, Amy. His head was still whirring from the exchange about firearms he’d just had with a six-foot-four-inch, twenty-year-old youth, built like a boxer and with an attitude to boot.
‘So, how did I do? Terrible, or just mildly awful?’
Amy smiled. She looked down at the clipboard that Matt suspected was only for show, to wind up her big brother. ‘I thought you did great. Really great.’
‘Even the bit about the guns?’
‘Especially the bit about the guns.’
Harvey – sharp, razored Afro and all designer gear and bling – had been referred to the financial management class by his youth offending team caseworker. He’d replied to Matt’s question about financial calculations with a question of his own: ‘Sir, what do you get when you add one guy with a gun to another guy with a gun?’
Matt had glanced around the rest of the fifteen-strong Friday-evening class at the North London College of Further Education, unknowingly tracing his tongue over his top lip. Half of them were suppressing smiles, knowing what was coming. The remainder weren’t even listening. ‘I don’t know, Harvey, what do you get?’
‘One helluva firefight!’ he said, slapping the desk in celebration of the joke.
The class laughed and groaned in equal measure.
‘What?!’ Harvey said, gesticulating to those who weren’t laughing. ‘C’mon, people, show your appreciation!’
Amy had been sitting at the back of the classroom, her face not revealing her thoughts. She hadn’t made eye contact with Matt, but he’d known she was waiting for him to come up with a suitable response to this challenge.
He’d tried to channel one of his favourite teachers from school, who had never failed to deal with troublesome class members. ‘Very good, Harvey. Maybe you should try stand-up, not shoot-’em-up.’
‘Your response was perfect,’ Amy said. ‘A bit risky, running with the gun analogy, but you judged it well.’
‘I’ve got to admit, in those seconds after the words left my mouth, until he smiled, I did wonder.’
‘As I said, you judged it well. Harvey likes you, I can tell. You’re building a relationship with the group, after just a few weeks. There’s respect there already. I’m impressed. They’re still testing you out, challenging you. But that’s part of the process. They’re engaging with what you’re saying, which is a massive step forward for them, believe me. Most of those guys have never had a father figure in their lives, and those that have, well, that father figure hasn’t exactly been a positive influence. For them, being able to look up to someone wielding a pen or calculator, rather than a gun or knife, is a real revelation.’
‘It’s not like where we came from.’
‘And it’s certainly a different world to your usual place of work. How are you enjoying it?’
Matt took a couple of seconds. ‘More than I thought I would. It makes a great change from fund-managing.’
‘So, are you not tempted to do this kind of thing full-time? Make a career out of it? Say goodbye to the bank and hello to the classroom?’ Amy noted Matt’s sceptical expression. ‘You’re a natural at it. And you always wanted to be a teacher.’
‘I already have a career, Amy.’
Amy continued, undeterred. ‘You could make such a difference to people’s lives.’
‘Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m just trying to make sure you can see the benefits, that’s all.’ She smiled as she took a sip of her peppermint tea, the label from the bag dangling over the side. ‘Harvey in particular really respects you.’
‘You think?’
‘Oh yes. You should’ve seen how he was with some of the other tutors.’
‘I’m not sure I want to know.’
‘He’s scared off three tutors in the past six months. He threatened to fist-fight the first one, after the guy made the mistake of singling him out in class. I won’t tell you about what he did to the other two. It’s possible they deserved it though. A lot of teachers can’t really handle these kids. They have to be approached in just the right way, otherwise things can go badly wrong.’
‘Are you able to tell me more about Harvey? His background?’
‘Sure. His father left when he was eight. Mother struggled to cope, financially and otherwise, with a family of four. His older brother was killed three years ago in a gang-related incident – chased through Peckham and knifed to death. Harvey was already being drawn into gangs, most of those kids are, but he really went off the rails after his brother’s death. Got involved in petty crime, then drug-running, then harassment, and finally an assault that left a rival gang member hospitalised.’