SHARON PARKED THE CAR on the opposite side of the road to where Jason Ford was back living with his mother. She sat clenching her fists lost inside the sleeves of a man’s navy hoodie. Sharon had arrived on the road at 9.30 am after walking Gary to school. A light drizzle of autumnal rain veiled the windscreen, and though her aim was not to draw attention to her presence, she was forced to turn on the windscreen wipers every few minutes to clear her view, risking being seen inside the vehicle.
‘It has to be today; it has to be’, she muttered to herself.
Her child’s hysterical crying echoed in her ears as she remembered that morning three weeks earlier when Gary had been forced to turn back from the short walk to his new school.
‘He was going to kill me, my mobile, I’m sorry mum’, a jumble of words tumbled out of his mouth, all snotty nosed and streaming eyes as he stumbled in through the kitchen door. She held him tight telling him it was alright as the crimson blood smudged against her white work shirt from where the knife wound had pierced his soft, innocent flesh.
Sharon recalled how she had saved up for weeks for the mobile she had given him as a present for his first day at secondary school. The police said there was little they could do without any independent witnesses, and Jason Ford had denied any involvement, and hehad an alibi.
The sound of a car pulling up outside the house she had under surveillance dragged Sharon back into the moment. Jason Ford jumped out, laughing and gesticulating to the driver. As soon as the car moved off, she sprang from her seat pushing the door firmly until it closed without a sound, leaving it unlocked. With her hood pulled up she moved swiftly across the road, the bottoms of the man sized training pants dragged along the wet surface turning them soggy before she got to the other side. Ford was just about to put the key in the front door.
‘Heh Jace’, she called keeping her voice as deep and gruff as possible.
'Piss off ‘, he growled having turned around on not recognising the voice. He marched in her direction with a fist jerked back ready to swing.
Sharon yanked the gun from the pocket of the hoodie, taking in a deep breath, the familiar perfume that still hung on the garment sped through her nostrils sending her adrenaline soaring. With both hands around the gun, she tightened her grip and rushed forward to meet the steely eyed gnarly toothed man, pulling the trigger four times in rapid succession. The shots were muffled by the silencer but the sound of metal hitting bone was shockingly audible.
Ford fell to the floor clutching at one knee but she could see that she had hit both legs. As he lay on the drive cursing and babbling incoherently, it occurred to her that he should know the reason for the act she had just committed.
‘You fucking coward, a grown man stealing from school kids, you piece of shit’, she said surprised at the profanities that escaped her lips. As soon as the words gushed forth, it was too late to take them back. He now knew who she was.
‘I’m sorry, please’, sobbed Ford now looking and sounding pathetic.
Stepping closer to the babbling man’s feet she pointed the gun towards his head and pulled the trigger one final time. Ford’s brains splattered up the drive towards the front door. Blood and chunks of brain slithered slowly down the white plastic front door. Sharon felt nothing.
Turning away she walked swiftly back towards her car, as she reached it, she heard a woman’s scream. The steady drizzle had become a heavy downpour by the time she pulled away from the kerb and drove off unhurriedly along the road. The sound of heavy drops hitting the metal roof was comforting; it was as if nothing could touch her when it rained.
At the appointment after school that day the psychologist prescribed anti-depressants to help Gary sleep. They were back home by six with pizza and chips. Gary turned on the TV while Sharon unpacked the takeaway.
‘Mum, quick, come here’, Gary called out in a high pitched voice.
Sharon dropped everything and ran to the lounge. Gary stood in front of the TV pointing.
‘Local man Jason Ford was killed this morning in what police described as a gang style execution. Police suspect rival gang members of carrying out the shooting. Ford’s partner Leanne Hemmings spoke to Central News’, continued the reporter.
The camera panned round to Hemmings who was holding a blond haired blue eyed toddler in her arms.
‘Whoever killed Jace has robbed his family of a loving son, brother, and father, we demand the police do their job and bring the killer to justice’ said Hemmings pushing the toddler into the camera.
Friends of the victim, who was on bail awaiting a court appearance on charges of robbery with violence, said his larger than life character would be missed. Ford’s Facebook page has been inundated with messages of sympathy from the time the news of his death broke early this morning. ‘Love you Jace can’t believe you’re gone’ and ‘RIP Jace, you went down fighting to the last’ are just some of the messages posted by his friends’, concluded the reporter.
‘Well I guess we won’t need to go to court now, let’s go and eat, I’m starving’, said Sharon switching the television off. In the kitchen, they tore at the slices of pizza, and laughed as their fingers became tangled in the stretchy strands of cheese. The spontaneous giggles hid the tears that welled in Sharon’s eyes. There could be no turning back or room for regret for this once gentle woman. She recalled her husband’s last words as the cancer won out in the spring when the snowdrops and bluebells sprung anew from the gently thawed earth:
‘I know you’ll take good care of Gary when I'm gone.’
2016©Kate North
‘It has to be today; it has to be’, she muttered to herself.
Her child’s hysterical crying echoed in her ears as she remembered that morning three weeks earlier when Gary had been forced to turn back from the short walk to his new school.
‘He was going to kill me, my mobile, I’m sorry mum’, a jumble of words tumbled out of his mouth, all snotty nosed and streaming eyes as he stumbled in through the kitchen door. She held him tight telling him it was alright as the crimson blood smudged against her white work shirt from where the knife wound had pierced his soft, innocent flesh.
Sharon recalled how she had saved up for weeks for the mobile she had given him as a present for his first day at secondary school. The police said there was little they could do without any independent witnesses, and Jason Ford had denied any involvement, and hehad an alibi.
The sound of a car pulling up outside the house she had under surveillance dragged Sharon back into the moment. Jason Ford jumped out, laughing and gesticulating to the driver. As soon as the car moved off, she sprang from her seat pushing the door firmly until it closed without a sound, leaving it unlocked. With her hood pulled up she moved swiftly across the road, the bottoms of the man sized training pants dragged along the wet surface turning them soggy before she got to the other side. Ford was just about to put the key in the front door.
‘Heh Jace’, she called keeping her voice as deep and gruff as possible.
'Piss off ‘, he growled having turned around on not recognising the voice. He marched in her direction with a fist jerked back ready to swing.
Sharon yanked the gun from the pocket of the hoodie, taking in a deep breath, the familiar perfume that still hung on the garment sped through her nostrils sending her adrenaline soaring. With both hands around the gun, she tightened her grip and rushed forward to meet the steely eyed gnarly toothed man, pulling the trigger four times in rapid succession. The shots were muffled by the silencer but the sound of metal hitting bone was shockingly audible.
Ford fell to the floor clutching at one knee but she could see that she had hit both legs. As he lay on the drive cursing and babbling incoherently, it occurred to her that he should know the reason for the act she had just committed.
‘You fucking coward, a grown man stealing from school kids, you piece of shit’, she said surprised at the profanities that escaped her lips. As soon as the words gushed forth, it was too late to take them back. He now knew who she was.
‘I’m sorry, please’, sobbed Ford now looking and sounding pathetic.
Stepping closer to the babbling man’s feet she pointed the gun towards his head and pulled the trigger one final time. Ford’s brains splattered up the drive towards the front door. Blood and chunks of brain slithered slowly down the white plastic front door. Sharon felt nothing.
Turning away she walked swiftly back towards her car, as she reached it, she heard a woman’s scream. The steady drizzle had become a heavy downpour by the time she pulled away from the kerb and drove off unhurriedly along the road. The sound of heavy drops hitting the metal roof was comforting; it was as if nothing could touch her when it rained.
At the appointment after school that day the psychologist prescribed anti-depressants to help Gary sleep. They were back home by six with pizza and chips. Gary turned on the TV while Sharon unpacked the takeaway.
‘Mum, quick, come here’, Gary called out in a high pitched voice.
Sharon dropped everything and ran to the lounge. Gary stood in front of the TV pointing.
‘Local man Jason Ford was killed this morning in what police described as a gang style execution. Police suspect rival gang members of carrying out the shooting. Ford’s partner Leanne Hemmings spoke to Central News’, continued the reporter.
The camera panned round to Hemmings who was holding a blond haired blue eyed toddler in her arms.
‘Whoever killed Jace has robbed his family of a loving son, brother, and father, we demand the police do their job and bring the killer to justice’ said Hemmings pushing the toddler into the camera.
Friends of the victim, who was on bail awaiting a court appearance on charges of robbery with violence, said his larger than life character would be missed. Ford’s Facebook page has been inundated with messages of sympathy from the time the news of his death broke early this morning. ‘Love you Jace can’t believe you’re gone’ and ‘RIP Jace, you went down fighting to the last’ are just some of the messages posted by his friends’, concluded the reporter.
‘Well I guess we won’t need to go to court now, let’s go and eat, I’m starving’, said Sharon switching the television off. In the kitchen, they tore at the slices of pizza, and laughed as their fingers became tangled in the stretchy strands of cheese. The spontaneous giggles hid the tears that welled in Sharon’s eyes. There could be no turning back or room for regret for this once gentle woman. She recalled her husband’s last words as the cancer won out in the spring when the snowdrops and bluebells sprung anew from the gently thawed earth:
‘I know you’ll take good care of Gary when I'm gone.’
2016©Kate North