Read Crossing the Line (Kerry Wilkinson) for Free Online Page A

It only hit me a few days later that she was some woman with a kid in a
    pushchair, run off her feet, knackered, probably taking out her shopping money for the week. I thought
    about that kid going hungry, p’raps her old man giving her a slap, like, and I’d spent all her money on
    shite. I couldn’t stop thinking about her but then it just made me depressed, so I went and nicked some
    shoes from this shop on Deansgate. Got twenty quid for them and guess where that went.’
    ‘What were you on?’
    Tony shrugged. ‘You name it, I probably tried it. I think I was into paint-thinner for a while.’
    ‘Why’d you get clean?’
    ‘Me ma. When I dropped out of uni and ended up doing this, my dad said he didn’t want anything to
    do with me. I think that made it worse ’cos that’s when I moved on from the booze. But me ma came
    to see me one day – she sat where you are now, crying and saying that I was capable of much more. I
    was buzzing but there was something in her face. She kept saying she’d help. You know they’ve got a
    few quid, don’t you?’
    ‘I’ve heard.’
    Jessica was aware that his parents owned a string of properties around the country, which Tony
    stood to inherit. He’d come to the city for university but dropped out during his first year for a reason no one seemed to know and ended up living rough. When his parents reported him missing, it was left
    to the police to tell them that their son was perfectly fine – he was choosing to live on the street.
    Tony nodded: ‘She was saying they’d pay for the clinic if I wanted to, p’raps sort me out with a
    job. I thought I could take the money and spend it on . . . y’know . . . but every time I kept thinking of me ma’s face, saying she was disappointed. I mean, she’s me ma – what was I supposed to do?’
    ‘So you got help?’
    ‘Yeah, this place out Stockport. Costs a bomb but when I got out, I thought “fair enough”. It was
    sound, not having that fog all the time – being able to go into a shop and not seeing everything as
    something I could sell on. Honestly, it’s the best thing I’ve done.’
    As he continued speaking, Jessica noticed how much of the Manc twang he’d picked up; stretching
    out the vowels, making the Os sound like Us and pronouncing the letter Y as an E-H.
    Tony finished his tea and poured a second cup, including another for Jessica. When he sat again, he
    tugged up his sleeve. It seemed like a day for that type of thing but his marks were far worse than
    either hers or Debbie’s. Etched along the inside crook of elbow was a train track of scars and
    scratches, a web of blue, purple, black and pink indelibly a part of him.
    ‘I’ve got a contact who could look at those for you,’ Jessica said. ‘They do good work removing
    things and restoring the skin.’
    Tony shook his head. ‘I kind of like them – it’s a reminder whenever I have my top off, letting me
    know what I used to be.’ He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder. ‘Some dude with a gallery out
    that way wants to take photos of them. Bit weird, like, but I might do it.’
    Jessica thought of the flower pot filled with used condoms that they’d found in the back alleys –
    perhaps it really was an art exhibit. ‘What are you going to do now?’ she asked.
    ‘Me ma wants me to leave Manchester and go home.’
    ‘Where’s that?’
    ‘Just over the border in Yorkshire. Nothing there but p’raps I need a new start? I’ve been working
    in this cafe round the corner – cleaning tables, taking orders, that sort of stuff. It feels weird taking people’s money and not wanting to go off with it. It’s nice – like being a normal person. That’s how I
    got into me tea. Me ma says they’ll find me something proper to do.’ Tony pulled a battered mobile
    phone out of his pocket and pressed the screen. ‘Look, I’ve gotta go – I’ve got a shift at the cafe, it’s only a few hours but I’ve been on a trial period and don’t