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Chapter One – May Day
1

Wednesday 1^st May 1996

Jesse Archer checks his watch again

Ten minutes late now. Jesus fucking Christ. He growls at the back of his throat and jams his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. It’s starting to rain, the wind driving a miserable drizzle up the alley towards him. He turns his head, lowering his face and tucking his dark hair behind his ears.

‘Come on,’ he mutters to the wall. ‘God’s sake…’

The alley suddenly fills with leaves ripped violently from the trees in the park. Jesse looks up to see a great gust of them sailing over the roofs of the shops. They spiral and twist and dance around him and it feels like they, like the whole goddamn town, are laughing at him: Jesse Archer, youngest of the renowned Archer boys, waiting in an alley for his so-called friends; Jesse Archer, who didn’t bring a coat because it was sunny half an hour ago, but of course, the weather had to turn on a pin (as Mayor Sumner was so fond of saying) because this town hates his guts and always has done; Jesse Archer, whose mother went full psycho five years ago and hasn’t been seen since.

Jesse kicks the wall. It’s the only way to dispel some of the hot anger filling up his chest. He tries to imagine why Steven and Dominic might be late. Unfortunately, there could be endless reasons. With Steven – short, skinny, acne-faced and sneering – it could be anything. He might have had to help his dad with a cleaning job. Steven Davies doesn’t have a mum either – she ran off when he was only six when she, according to him, also went full psycho. In Steven’s opinion, that’s what this town does to you. There is no evidence to support this, however, and Jesse thinks it’s just classic Steven bullshit. If you’ve got a problem, Steven always has one ten times bigger.

Jesse also has to consider that it might be deliberate. That Steven might just be sitting at home in his flat above Jesse’s, feet up on the coffee table, with a big fat smile on his face. Steven is a wind-up merchant. In all honesty, he’s a bit of a prick, and Jesse wonders on a daily basis why he bothers with him.

Habit and history, he thinks now, turning from the red brick wall and skulking down to the end of the alley. Dominic – chubby, shaven-headed, pasty-faced – could be late for any reason too. He’s forgotten entirely, or he can’t tell the time. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, Dominic Robeson is the chunky greasy bone Steven and Jesse fight over. A trio is never even. Three is always a crowd when both boys want to be the leader. The rivalry between Jesse and Steven is an undercurrent that thrums beneath them at all times, threatening to explode and driving almost every bad decision, stupid prank and minor crime they commit.

This was Jesse’s idea, so of course Steven would want to sabotage it.

Bored, Jesse peers out of the alley and looks up and down Town Road. To his immediate right are the school playing fields and car park, and beyond them, the target for today, Black Hare Valley Secondary School.

Shivering in his ripped jeans, Green Day t-shirt and checked flannel shirt, Jesse leaves the safety of the alley and turns left. He rounds the corner, whistling casually as he strides past the newsagents. It’s okay, he thinks, I’ll give them five more minutes, then I’ll do it myself. Fuck those losers. Another bloom of anger tightens his chest when he pictures Steven again, probably sitting at home laughing like a bastard. Jesse decides there and then that if they don’t show up, he’s done with them for good.

That’s it, he tells himself, move on. Fuck them. He’s been feeling restless in the trio for so long – he just needs one decent excuse to bin their useless arses. For a long time Jesse didn’t think he had any other options when it came to friends. His family’s reputation has stained him since birth; he’s the type of boy parents warn their children not to hang out with. But that’s changed lately, he remembers with a secret smile.

2

Jesse pushes through the door to the chemist out of habit. He’s not really thinking as he shoulders his way inside the shop, where one of the three strip lights is always flickering. It’s too easy in here, not much of a challenge. The intermittent expanding and retracting of light from one strip gives the place a disjointed, out of sync feeling, like anything could happen, but nothing ever will. The narrow aisles and dusty shelves and Mr Martin with his thick lenses and slight hunchback, leaning forward with his poor eyesight fixed perpetually on the floor; it all feels as stale and awful as the rest of the town does to Jesse.

And Nathan Cotton; at seventeen he is two years older than Jesse, but still has the nervous need to be accepted by anyone and everyone. He’s sitting at the till in shadows, blond head lowered, lips moving slowly as he gazes into his lap.

Unseen, Jesse reaches out for anything. Throat sweets, why not? They taste good. Ibuprofen? Maybe he can sell them. An electric toothbrush. The items vanish one by one up his sleeve, into pockets, like magic they vanish into thin air.

He smiles at his own skills as he approaches the till. He tips his head, about to say hi to Nathan, but Nathan is too fixated on whatever he has spread out on his lap, and still hasn’t noticed him. Jesse inches closer, his eyes scanning the shelves below the till, then lifting to focus on the items behind. The decent painkillers: co-codamol, Sudafed, Nyquil. Maybe he can distract Nathan, lure him out, slip around and nab some of the decent stuff, the stuff Nathan has to hold up for Mr Martin to nod at from the back. Stuff Nathan cannot legally hand over himself.

Curiosity distracts him – what the hell is Nathan staring at? Jesse slams his hands down on the counter and leans over whip fast, making Nathan jerk back in fear, sending the magazine skittering to the floor, but not before Jesse catches sight of bare backsides, oiled torsos and erect penises.

So, it is true, he thinks and stores the information away for later. Nathan, red-faced, forces a sick smile, jumps up, and smooths down the white apron he has to wear.

‘Hi, Jesse!’

‘There’s a rat back there,’ Jesse tells him, jerking a thumb over one shoulder. ‘In the corner by the door. Just saw it go under the shelves. Thought I better let you know.’

‘Oh no! Oh my goodness! Thanks!’ Nathan kicks his magazine under the counter and rushes out to look for the fictional rat.

‘No problem.’ Jesse leans over and swipes three packs of co-codamol. He stuffs them in his pockets and heads for the door. ‘Seeya later!’

Outside, the rain is worse. Jesse swears, drops his head and pulls his shirt across his chest. It has a hole in one elbow and too many buttons are missing to do it up. A hand-me-down from his brothers, it was too big for him six months ago, but a sudden growth spurt is sending Jesse towards the skies.

 He scuttles back to the mouth of the alley, all good cheer from his successful theft now evaporates in the rain and he returns to his ever present conviction that Black Hare Valley hates him.

He stops for a moment, bereft. They’re still not here. Fuck those clowns. He’ll do it better without them. He’s not abandoning this plan, not for anything. It’s because Steven knows how much he wants to do it, that’s why he’s not turned up. He knows how much this means to Jesse.

His shoulders drop, he exhales his disappointment and heads right towards the playing fields, finding an odd type of comfort in the knowledge that he was right all along: the only person he can ever rely on is himself.

3

The school gates are locked. There is no school today because of the May Day celebrations. Jesse is sure that most other places on earth celebrate May Day on the first Monday in May, but not this town. May Day is huge in Black Hare Valley, and he’s not exactly sure why. The mayor and her cronies insist on celebrating it on the first of May, whatever day that falls on. It’s tradition, the old folks all say, as if that means anything. It means nothing to Jesse.

A day off school is a gift though, and he intends to make the most of it, as the wind and rain pick up force to batter him harder. He feels like the weather knows his plan, his intention. But it always feels like that in this town, he reflects bitterly, it always feels like whatever you do and wherever you go, you are watched.

The school sits on the horizon, on the other side of the damp green fields – grey, squat, ugly and listlessly waiting to devour him again. Although maybe it feeds on him more than it devours him. Jesse shudders just looking at it. He feels the fear tighten his muscles, even his skin. His scalp seems to clench under his hair as he follows the fence along until he reaches the hedging that surrounds the car park.

The town knows, he thinks, the town watches.

He thinks of Mayor Sumner up on Hill Fort Farm – the highest point of the valley – her inscrutable gaze cast relentlessly down on her town; the one she likes to remind everyone has been connected to her family for endless generations.

Thinking about Mayor Sumner makes his stomach feel weak, like a gurgling washing machine full of milky water and a sputtering, dying engine. Jesse shakes himself like a dog and finds the gap in the fence, the one he made himself with pliers at the end of last week when his final altercation with the headmaster, Mr Bishop, forced him to make the promise he now must keep.

Jesse squeezes through, his breath now clogged and thick in his throat. A stray cut wire snatches at his neck and gouges his skin just for fun. He hisses in pain and swats it away. Putting two fingers to his neck, he feels the tacky blood and curses. If Steven and Dominic were here, one of them would have held the wire back for him, but no, he has to do everything by himself. Well that’s it, he thinks viciously, never again, I don’t need them anymore anyway.

Jesse creeps around the edge of the car park, wondering why he didn’t plan to do this after dark. Still, there is no CCTV, he knows this for a fact. He doesn’t need a mask or a hood. He just needs not to be seen. Although, in truth, the reckless side of him laughs at this because what does it even matter? If he’s caught, if they know it was him, what can he lose? He has nothing in this town. And he hates them all.

Jesse reaches the school and scuttles over to the boys’ toilets on the ground floor. One window, one smash and he’ll be in. The science block is next door. Game on.

He flattens himself against the wall and scans the area, just in case. Nothing. No one. The cluster of silver birch trees that surround the car park and the ginormous horse chestnut that stands adjacent to the building prevent him from being overlooked. Without the green leafy trees, he would be visible to the houses on School Lane and possibly even the top windows of the bookshop and home improvement shop on Black Hare Road.

Remembering the bookshop, he thinks of Paddy Finnis and his resolve solidifies. It wasn’t just Jesse Mr Bishop humiliated last Friday, it was Paddy Finnis too. Short, frail, bespectacled Paddy, whose gentle father owns the only bookshop in Black Hare Valley.

The Magic Of Books: Second hand and rare books, bought and sold. Jesse feels shame when he recalls the books he has stolen from Paddy’s father over the years. He still has them all stashed in an old suitcase under his bed and he’d feel a different kind of shame if his older brothers or so-called friends ever came across them.

Jesse faces the window, pulls his cuff over his fist and punches the glass hard and fast, just the way his brothers taught him. He feels watched, he feels hated and hateful but he won’t stop now and he’ll tell himself he’s doing it for Paddy.

He’ll go there after to tell him, and just imagining this brings the flicker of a smile to Jesse’s normally hostile face. He will sneak around to the back and hide under the gnarled old apple tree. He’ll whistle up to Paddy who’ll be in his treehouse reading about stars and planets. They’ll sit together and smell the smoke of a burning school. We’ll never have to go there again, he’ll say. His mind wanders for a moment longer… What will Paddy think? Will he be happy? Proud?

Jesse reaches in and unlatches the window. He throws it open and hoists himself quickly inside. Five minutes and it’ll be done. School will be over. Mr Bishop will be out of a job. He smiles and wishes he could give himself a high-five.

Jesse leaves the toilets and enters the corridor. The school reeks of floor cleaner, old furniture and humiliation. The building holds the ghosts of shrunken souls, damaged and flayed, belittled and berated, never set free, forever clogging up the corridors with memories.

His family have stained this school like they’ve stained everything else, he thinks with satisfaction. His brothers names are still scratched and scrawled across doors in the toilets and on wooden desks in the classrooms. In rare moments of sobriety his father Nick has regaled him with wild tales from his own schooldays. Being expelled at aged fourteen is something he is supposedly still proud of.

Jesse opens the door to the first science lab and scans the room quickly. Wooden desks and stools, Bunsen burners and test tubes, goggles and vials. Smeared windows, creaking floors. He creeps in and closes the door behind him.

He turns to the water and gas valves on the wall beside the door. He flicks the gas lever down to open then hurries over to the nearest desk and leans over to the smaller valves used for the Bunsen burners. Jesse turns one on then moves on to the next. A loud hissing begins to follow his progress so he pulls his shirt across his mouth and nose and once they are all on, he dashes back to the door and tugs the box of matches out of his pocket.

It’s happening, it’s really happening! Excitement floods him and his face breaks into a huge smile. Breathing hard, his eyes watering, Jesse backs out of the lab and prepares to strike the match.

It’s then that the heavy hand lands on his shoulder and Jesse lets out the loudest scream of his life.

‘Don’t even think about it.’

Shit.

4

Jesse freezes.

The match falls to the floor unlit. The stench from the lab is now overpowering but not as overpowering as Sergeant Aaron Mayfield. The fifty-four-year-old is as fit as a man twenty years younger. The hand on Jesse’s shoulder becomes a claw. The claw digs into his flesh while the other one yanks his left arm up behind his back.

Jesse gasps. He’s suddenly spinning towards the opposite wall and he turns his face just in time to avoid a broken nose. His other arm is wrenched back and a pair of cold metal cuffs are snapped efficiently over his wrists.

A black boot shoots between his feet to kick them apart, spreading his legs in a dramatic fashion that makes Jesse suspect Mayfield has watched far too many American cop movies in his spare time.

A bristly cheek scrapes against his own and a voice laced with delight hisses into his ear.

‘Do. Not. Move.’

Jesse holds his breath and waits.

Sergeant Mayfield backs off briskly and Jesse hears him stomping into the science lab and flinging open windows. The hissing noise stops. Sergeant Mayfield comes back out into the corridor and presses his police baton into the small of Jesse’s back. Jesse inhales.

‘Vindictive little scrote,’ Sergeant Mayfield says, adding pressure to the baton. There is mirth in his voice. Sergeant Mayfield enjoys a joke and a tease and despite the insults, Jesse knows he enjoys his company. He turns the baton in a slow circle and then moves it up a little higher to prod a knob on Jesse’s spine.

Jesse keeps quiet. There is no point saying a word. He knows exactly what will happen next and in a strange kind of way he is almost relieved. A part of him pictures the explosion he’d hoped for, the flames and the smoke and the destruction of the school and a heavy layer of shame settles in his belly like sludge.

He should have known. Sergeant Mayfield has saved the school and probably him too. Maybe he had known – he had felt the eyes of the town watching him and Mayfield is even more of a voyeur than Mayor Sumner is.

Jesse hisses when the baton prods another bump in his spine.

‘I’ve been watching you all day, filthy little bugger. Nasty little stain. Why do you hate this town so much, eh? Why do you just want to destroy? And on today, of all days? This day means something to the people of this town, but you wouldn’t understand that, would you?’

Jesse doesn’t answer. The baton jabs at the next bump in the ladder of his spine. Sergeant Mayfield growls a little. He reminds Jesse of a bored cat playing with an injured mouse. He knows he has to give him something.

‘Just bored.’

Sergeant Mayfield likes and appreciates that answer. He turns Jesse around and beams at him as if he has pleased him somehow. His hair is short, neat and as white as snow. His moustache is thick, drooping down either side of his mouth. His eyes are bright, startlingly blue and surrounded by deep laughter lines. He laughs at Jesse now. His broad, muscular chest pushes forward as his head drops back a little. Then he places the baton under Jesse’s chin and forces his head up.

‘Ahh, bored were you? Well, now. Let’s see if we can do something about that.’

Keeping the baton under Jesse’s chin, Mayfield leans towards him, his fierce blue eyes drilling into Jesse’s. Jesse wants to hide from the dancing malice in those restless eyes but he cannot even breathe.

‘Come on then,’ he says softly. ‘Let’s be having you. Me and you have got work to do.’

Sergeant Mayfield lowers the baton, takes Jesse by the elbow and marches him out of the school. He carefully locks the doors behind him and leads Jesse over to his police car which is parked in the car park. Jesse feels a stab of anger towards Steven and Dominic. If they’d come like they were supposed to, one of them would have acted as lookout… He makes a silent promise to himself to ditch them for good, to never trust them again. He thinks about Paddy and wonders if there is any chance…

‘Bored,’ Mayfield sighs to himself, shaking his head as he opens the passenger door and shoves Jesse inside. ‘I’ll give you bored.’

Jesse stays silent as the door slams on him and Sergeant Mayfield strolls casually around to the other side. He feels fear and a sense of defeat mixed with relief. It’s out of his hands now and sometimes he appreciates that about Mayfield. Game over. In a sense, he’s lost as usual and everything is as it should be.

The other door slams and the car rocks as Mayfield’s substantial girth weighs the right side down. He chuckles and drums the palms of his hands against the steering wheel.

‘Well, now,’ he says, not looking at Jesse. ‘Did you really think you’d get away with it?’

The anger at his friends seeps out of him. He just feels tired and defeated. ‘No,’ he says and it’s the truth. Somehow he had known.

‘Nothing gets past me, you know,’ says Mayfield. ‘I’m the eyes and ears of this town, you know.’

Jesse does know.

‘And Mayor Sumner up on the hill, she’s the brain, isn’t she, eh?’

Jesse finds his gaze drawn that way, up and to the left of town, to Hill Fort Farm and to generations of watching and guarding.

‘And the Vicar Roberts, he’s the heart, isn’t he?’

And again, Jesse feels the pull. To the left this time, beyond the row of shops where he stole from Martin’s Chemist, beyond the park to Saint Marks church on the other side. He breathes in. And out.

‘And everyone else,’ says Mayfield in his cheery tone. ‘They’re the bones, aren’t they? The support system. The lungs and the blood and the oxygen and the rest. But you.’ His tone hardens. His eyes flick to the left and narrow to icy slits. He uses the baton to poke Jesse’s shoulder. ‘You. You’re the arsehole of the town, Jesse Archer. You’re the hole through which steaming shit flows and stinks. You’re the diseased bowels and cancerous colon. You’re the prolapsed anus and the itchy burning piles. You’re bowel cancer. That’s you and your contribution. Right?’

Jesse has no option but to nod. ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Why not?’

‘Just like your brothers, and your father. Family of criminals and swines. It’s never been any different.’

‘Okay.’

Sergeant Mayfield ignites the engine. ‘Well. We better keep you busy and out of trouble. We better find you a job to do, eh?’

‘Okay.’

The car rolls out of the car park and Jesse holds his breath, wondering who the target will be.

5

Who else is on Mayfield’s radar?

They turn left onto School Lane, then left again onto Black Hare Road. The rain patters against the windscreen, gentler now, like Mayfield’s liver spotted hands and their loose, drowsy hold on the wheel.

To Jesse’s horror they pull up outside the bookshop. His mouth opens and then closes silently. Does Mayfield know? About him and Paddy? No, he can’t do. No one knows.

Mayfield reaches for him, shifts him to access the cuffs and unlocks them with the key. Jesse brings his hands in front of him and rubs his wrists. His heart is beating frantically inside his chest as he prays to god it’s the shop next door Mayfield wants to target.

‘Hand it all over, Jesse.’

Jesse digs into his pockets and one by one places the stolen goods on the dashboard.

‘Good for nothing, lying, cheating, vandalising cancerous stain…’

Jesse waits.

Mayfield opens the glove compartment and takes out a small device. A camera. Jesse sometimes wonders where he gets them from. He’s never seen cameras like them in the home improvement shop or the garage or anywhere else in town. Maybe Mayfield leaves the town and purchases them somewhere more sophisticated than stuck-in-the-dark-ages Black Hare Valley.

But the thought seems preposterous. No one ever leaves Black Hare Valley. Not least of all Sergeant Aaron Mayfield. His roots go far too deep.

He passes the camera to Jesse who reluctantly slips it into jeans pocket. His face feels tight, his jaw clenched painfully, his forehead frozen in a deep, troubled frown as he stares ahead and asks, ‘Where?’

‘Bookshop,’ Mayfield replies with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Somewhere discreet. Maybe upstairs. Or the staff room. And not a word, remember.’ He jostles Jesse until he looks at him. Mayfield puts a thick finger to his lips. ‘Shh. Our little secret.’

Jesse’s stomach nosedives. He looks at the bookshop and thinks, why? Why them? He is close to asking, what did they do to get on your radar? Does Sumner know about this? Of course she does, she must…

Maybe Mayfield can sense the questions building because he clamps a hand down on Jesse’s arm and holds it tight.

‘Trying to blow up the school…’ He shakes his head sadly, his tone dripping with disappointment. ‘That’s got to be the lowest of the low, even for you. That’s a one way ticket to juvenile jail. The end of the line. Unless I do you a favour and you do one for me.’

Jesse nods quickly and opens the car door. He has no choice and they both know it.

‘I’m always watching, Jesse,’ Sergeant Mayfield reminds him as he climbs out of the car. ‘Remember that.’

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of Chapter One – May Day. Please also let me know if you would prefer shorter chapters. They are quite long and I could split each in half. What do you think of the characters introduced so far??

NOTE: Please remember this is NOT the finished version of Black Hare Valley Book 1. This book has not been to my editor yet or even my beta readers. There will be typos, grammatical mistakes, and sentences that need rewriting.

COMING NEXT THURSDAY: Chapter Two – The New Kid In Town