Chapter Thirteen

The bus pulled into Hartley just after 5pm. It had been a fun afternoon even though the film had been rubbish. Lincoln searched for his cigarettes and pulled out his last one.

"You know you really shouldn't smoke, Linc" said James.

"I know, I know. Force of habit" he shrugged.

James glanced at his watch. "Shit, I am late, Dad will kill me. See you Monday."

Lincoln waved at him as he ran off. He began walking towards the woodland. He stubbed out his butt and looked inside the cigarette packet. That was his last cigarette. He had been cutting back as he knew that he was getting low on supplies. He still had some of Luca's money left, so he headed towards the shop in town.

The warm air of the central heating hit his face, warming his frosting nose. There were a few people ahead of him so Lincoln joined the end of the queue. When it was his turn, he was the only person left. He scanned the cigarettes behind the counter but there were no Montgomery's. He'd have to go for another type of menthol's.

"Hey" he said to the shopkeeper, Mr Cassidy. "Twenty Kilburn's please."

Mr Cassidy smiled at him.

"I have a feeling you aren't quite 16 yet. If I am wrong, then just show me your ID."

Lincoln was taken aback for a moment. No one had refused to serve him cigarettes in London since he was 13! He took a look at Mr Cassidy's face. No, he wasn't joking.

"Of course. Wouldn't want to get you in any trouble" said Lincoln. "I'll just get a magazine instead."

Mr Cassidy looked pleased with his response.

Lincoln went to the other side of the shop and picked up a karate magazine. He glanced round and saw that he was the only person in the shop.

He walked back to the counter and put the magazine down.

"Excuse me, do you have any back issues of this?" he asked.

"I don't think so" he mused, studying the title.

"Would you mind checking? Only it is my favourite and I've missed a few" asked Lincoln.

"Sure, I will just check out back. It will take a few minutes though, is that ok?"

Lincoln smiled. "Take your time, I'm in no rush."

As soon as Mr Cassidy was gone he glanced around the shop for cameras. He hoisted himself over the counter, grabbed four packets of cigarettes and then jumped back over. He shoved each packet into a different pocket just before Mr Cassidy returned.

"I'm afraid we have none left" said Mr Cassidy.

Lincoln tried to look disappointed.

"Oh okay, thanks anyway. Bye now"

Lincoln turned around and with a big smile on his face, made his way out of the shop.

Hidden between two boxes, the tiny camera picked up Lincoln as he left the shop, just as it had when he had climbed over the counter.

Lincoln sat on the bench and lit his first Kilburn. The wood was quiet with only a few birds singing high in the trees. Alone with only his thoughts, Lincoln sat reviewing what he had just done. Jack Minchella would have been proud of such a performance. Luca: not so much.

Lincoln heard someone coming and looked up to see Dale.

"Hey, how was football?"

"We won 3-1"

"Great"

"How was the film?

"Crap" said Lincoln smiling, "You didn't miss much."

"Where is James?"

"You just missed him. He had a ridiculous curfew and had to run home."

"What, because of his Dad?"

"Yeah, I don't think he approves of me."

"I'm not surprised. On paper, you aren't what most parents would chose for their child's friend, are you?" said Dale with a grin.

"Speaking of parents, have you told your Dad we are mates yet?"

Dale looked uncomfortable.

"I can't. He'd never let me out again" said Dale.

"He just might take it better coming from you than from someone else," said Lincoln. "I haven't been in trouble with him yet so he might not be that bad."

"I dunno" said Dale, looking unconvinced. "I'd rather not risk it."

"It is up to you. It's not important really."

Dale smiled.

"Oh yeah, before I forget" said Dale, "My mobile died so I stopped by your house to see where you were after footie. Your Dad said if I saw you, to tell you to be home by 7pm."

Lincoln grunted. "7pm, on a Saturday. He can dream."

The two of them sat talking and Lincoln, smoking, for a few hours.

Dale stood up. "I have to go mate."

"Why?"

"I have to be in by 8.30pm."

"I'm sure your parents won't notice if you are a bit late."

"Nah, Dad is on patrol. If he catches me out, especially with you, I'll be in deep shit."

Dale stood up and zipped his coat up. "You coming?"

"Nah, I don't want to go home."

After a while, Lincoln was bored. He had texted back and forth with a few friends back home. He couldn't get hold of Jason. He headed back into town. In the middle stood a huge fountain with names of the war dead carved onto it. He sat on the edge of the fountain and counted the names. There were hundreds. He laid back on the cold marble stone edge, and let his hand trail in the water.

He looked up at the stars and was reminded of his mother. When he was little, she would tell him how when you died you became a star so that you could look down over the ones you love. Although Lincoln knew this was wrong, he couldn't help smiling at how his mum always had the ability to make a bad situation seem better. Despite himself, he wondered for a moment which star she might be. Lincoln ached to see her and to hear her voice just once more. But he knew it was too late. He'd have to learn to live without her forever. Lincoln sighed deeply. He wouldn't let himself cry again. He certainly didn't want to talk to Sam about how he felt.

He reached in his pocket and took out yet another cigarette. Today must be a record. He lit it and took a soul filling drag. Lights shone over Lincoln and hurt his eyes. He propped himself up and saw a police car coming to a halt a few yards in front of him. Sergeant Kramer got out with another officer and began walking towards Lincoln. Lincoln groaned and sat up properly.

"Lincoln, is that you?" asked Kramer.

"Yeah" said Lincoln, irritated.

"What are you doing here by yourself at this time of night?"

Lincoln looked at his watch. "It is only 10pm. It is hardly late."

"You didn't answer my question"

"I'm just casing out a few joints" said Lincoln sarcastically.

Kramer didn't look impressed, and put his hands on his hips.

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"Jesus, I'm just sitting have a smoke and a think. Thinking is still legal, right?" he snapped.

Kramer ignored him. Lincoln pulled on his cigarette.

"Smoking is bad for you" said Kramer.

Lincoln held the cigarette out in front of him and looked at it like it was the first time he had ever seen it.

"Oh my God! I had no idea it was bad for me. I will stop straight away Officer. Thank you for telling me" quipped Lincoln.

"One of these days you will outwit yourself, young man." said Kramer, sharply. "Just get yourself home. I am going on a circuit of the village. If you are here when I get back, there will be trouble."

"Don't bother, I'm going" said Lincoln, standing up. "The smell of pork was getting too much anyway."

He strode away and left the two men to their own devices.

Trust the fucking cops to ruin my night, thought Lincoln. He decided to take the long route back to Oakley Crescent. He'd do anything to stay out of that house as much as possible. Tensions were definitely mounting. Lincoln felt angry towards Connor and Kat for pressuring him about Ella. It wasn't his fault she liked him and they were making out like he had been leading her on. He had only found out today!

After a few minutes walking the near deserted streets he was at the top of the road. He finished his cigarette and threw it on the ground, stubbing it out with his toe. He walked down the street and hovered about outside the house. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and went in.

Almost instantly, Sam appeared in the hallway, with Debs close behind.

"Where the hell have you been?" shouted Sam. The loudness made Lincoln jump. Sam hadn't shouted at him like that before. He bristled.

"Out" he shot back.

"That is not good enough" said Sam, still shouting. "Did Dale give you my message?"

"Yeah, and?" challenged Lincoln.

"Why are you three and a half hours late?" snapped Sam, "I want an explanation!"

"I don't give a shit what you want" shouted Lincoln. He began to walk towards the stairs.

"Don't walk away from me" yelled Sam.

Lincoln turned on him. "You'd know all about walking away, wouldn't you?" he snapped angrily.

"What?!" blustered Sam.

"You heard" said Lincoln, turning towards the stairs again.

Sam was flustered by Lincoln's words. "I told you to stay" he snapped, grabbing Lincoln's arm to stop him.

Lincoln flinched and pulled his arm away. "Don't touch me" he yelped.

He pulled away with such force, that a pack of cigarettes dislodged from his pocket.

There was a silence as Sam picked them up from the floor.

"Smoking?" he said, his voice quieter now. Lincoln stood there and said nothing. "Since when have you been smoking?"

"Chill Sam. It is no big deal. I've been smoking for years."

"Don't you know the risks?"

Lincoln shrugged and gave Sam a look that showed he didn't care.

"I suspected as much. Well it stops, now" said Sam, sharply. "No son of mine will be a smoker."

"I don't care what you want, it is my life" snapped Lincoln.

"You will do as I say, I am your father."

"Some father" snapped Lincoln.

Sam ignored him. "You are grounded for a week. Go to your room."

"Grounded! Are you for real?" said Lincoln.

"I said go to your room" shouted Sam.

Lincoln scowled and stormed up the stairs, pushing past his siblings who were stood at the top of the stairs listening.