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looked into her tear-stained face one last time. ‘Go on, son, be brave,’ she said. ‘Be that boy a father would be proud of.’
    That was it. I couldn’t bear her hurt any longer. I walked quickly towards the front door. Chris and Gary followed in silence behind me. As we left the house Mum let out the most dreadful cry. It was the worst sound I’ve ever heard. It was the agonising cry of a mother having her child taken away.

Chapter Seven
    Policeman Gary closed the front door behind us. The other copper, Chris, unlocked their patrol car, which was parked in the kerb right outside our house. The interior light went on.
    ‘You all right?’ Gary asked me gently, placing his hand lightly on my shoulder.
    I sniffed and wiped the back of my hand over my eyes. Of course I wasn’t all right. How I could be? There was no point in telling Gary that; it wouldn’t have done any good. Tommy was with strangers and Mum was alone, sobbing like she would die. I knew, despite what she’d said about trying to get off the drink, as soon as we’d gone she’d open another bottle – to drown her sorrows. She hadn’t managed to get off the drink with Tommy and me there, so there was crap chance of her doing so now we’d been taken away.
    It was nearly 1.00 a.m. and the February night air was freezing. I still only had on my old school jacket; I didn’t own a coat. Chris was climbing into the driver’s seat while Gary was holding open the rear door for me to get in. I glanced back at the house. I knew once I was in the car there’d be no chance of escape until I got to the new foster carer’s, and then it might not be so easy this time. I needed to do something and quickly.
    ‘You OK?’ Gary asked again, holding the door open and waiting for me to get in.
    I hesitated. ‘I need a piss,’ I said.
    ‘OK. Hold up,’ Gary called to Chris. ‘Ryan needs a pee.’ Then to me: ‘Where are you going to go?’
    ‘Here,’ I said.
    I moved away from the car, towards the house, and began fiddling with my flies. ‘Don’t look,’ I told him, as though I was going to pee up the wall of my house. As soon as he turned his back, I legged it. I ran like the clappers down the short path to the end of our terrace, then left into the alleyway.
    ‘Hey! Stop!’ I heard him shout behind me, but I was already round the corner and going down the next alley.
    I ran flat out, like the devil was after me, and perhaps he was. I could hear two sets of footsteps thundering after me down the back alleys of the estate and echoing in the silence of the night. ‘Stop! Police!’ Chris shouted, but of course I didn’t and there was no one around to hear him and intercept me.
    Panting and with my face smarting from the cold, I turned right, then left, weaving in and out of the alleys like they were a maze. I knew these alleys well, much better than Chris and Gary – I’d spent my childhood playing in them. I also knew where the hiding places were, and that there was one a little further up. I made another right and left turn. Then, out of breath, I nipped into the covered recess at the end of Chestnut Close where the bins are kept. Going behind the bins, I squatted in the corner with my chin pressing onto my knees. I kept very still and tried to catch my breath.
    I heard the Old Bills’ footsteps draw closer, then their voices, close but muffled by the alleyways between us. My heart pounded. The pair of policemen came closer still, but before they came to where I was hiding their footsteps stopped, then began to fade away. I stayed where I was, straining my ears for any sound of them returning. I waited for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only fifteen minutes. Then I heard their car’s siren as they left the estate.
    *  *  *
    I breathed a sigh of relief. I was safe for the time being, but very, very cold. I couldn’t stay the night where I was – I’d freeze to death. And I obviously couldn’t go home – the police had said