Page 68 of The Cut
‘Whoa … wind your neck in, buster.’ Ben’s voice rose. He turned and took a pace towards Nate, physically threatening. ‘Don’t speak to me like that, or I’ll—’260
‘Or you’ll what?’ Nathan was standing eye to eye with his father.
Ben was lost in the moment, truly lost. What was he doing? Was he going to fight his own son? His son, who quite rightly wanted answers. He’d lost everyone he’d ever loved and now he was risking losing the trust of his son. He broke, just about holding back the tears.
The sight was something Nathan never expected. ‘Dad?’ He was shocked. ‘Sorry, Dad.’
Ben gathered himself. ‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Truly, Nate. I’m going to sort this whole mess out, OK?’ Nathan nodded at his dad, but inside he was more worried than ever.
As Ben turned to leave the room, a surge of emotion punched into his chest like an electric shock. On Nate’s desk, behind the door, was his father’s old 1950s tan leather suitcase from the basement. It was open. That case hadn’t been unlocked for thirty years, not since his father had died. Most of the contents had been emptied out but there in the bottom was a bundle wrapped in a black bin liner. Ben couldn’t breathe, his mouth was dry, he tried to swallow.
His fingers traced the edges of the hard plastic inside. It was a camera. Ben turned to face his son. He stared at the equipment mounted on the tripod. His expression was shrouded in a veil of calm.
‘Is that a new camera?’
‘Not new but … a vintage Hi8. Karine lent it to me.’
‘Any good?’ The colour was draining from Ben’s face. He rooted around in the case, looking for something else.
‘Not really, they don’t make the tapes anymore.’
Ben’s eyes flicked from the Panasonic on the tripod to the tightly wrapped bundle in his hand.261
‘Dad? What is it?’ Nate looked at all of Ben’s school things strewn out on the bed. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll tidy up.’
‘It’s OK, mate.’ The smile was tight and didn’t connect with his eyes. ‘No harm done, but I need to take these things back downstairs.’ His eyes flicked back to the open case. ‘If that’s all right?’
Nate nodded. Ben turned and carefully placed everything back in the case, registering every item, before locking it and heading out of the room without saying a word.
Nate sat still for a moment, then opened the cassette door on the camera that Karine had lent him.
Inside was the single video tape he’d found in the bottom of the suitcase.262
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47
JULY 1994
‘And now … Mark Cherry is moving up into third place behind Chris Davis of Marconi house and Ben Knot of Pasteur.’ Through the lens of Dave’s camera, a line of students pelt around the running track as he gives his best Des Lynam impression.
Mark’s reputation for ducking out of the cross-country run and sneaking off to the chippy with his ‘girlfriend’ means that his prowess on the sports field is sketchy, but he has really pulled something out of the bag this term. Whispers around school suggest that after so much practice running away from the bullies, he’s become some kind of camp Sebastian Coe. Either way, he is kicking ass at the Barton Mallet Secondary School sports day so far, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed.
The house teams are largely even this year. ‘Pasteur’ Red is led by Ben Knot and ‘Marconi’ Yellow by Chris Davis, but it is Lynette Davis’s demotion from house captain that has shocked everyone. Thanks to Mr Branchflower’s intervention, Annie Maddock is taking her place as team captain of ‘Einstein’. Admittedly, the irony of Lynette Davis heading up team Einstein hadn’t gone unnoticed in the staff room, so the decision was unanimous. Lynette is devastated. This is her legacy: demoted in favour of Annie Maddock. She isn’t just gutted, she is livid. She has lain awake at night for weeks, trying to figure out a way to nobble Annabel Maddock. Rat poison in her school flask, a trip wire or some other booby trap, Lynette’s devious mind has been working overtime. The rivalry has been festering for a long time now, at264least from Lynette’s perspective. For months, she has watched Annie like a hawk. On the school bus, on the hockey field, in their drama class, at Pen y Fan on the camping trip. She’s been biding her time, but now she’s ready to strike.
Someone else whose mind has been scheming is Davis; he saw Cherry in the 1,500m trials and he’s nervous.
‘COME ON, MARK!’ Catherine shouts from the sidelines, nearly deafening Patel, who is trying to focus in on Chris.
Patel lenses up, darting between Davis and Cherry. He pans to Knot, who is about 100 yards ahead, turning on to the final stretch to the finish line. As he returns to the two boys fighting for second place, he adjusts the focus. Mark is doing something unexpected, something that a runner with far more experience would do.
Mark’s heart is thumping hard as his feet pound the grass. He’s been holding back. He’s studied Steve Ovett running like this, hanging off the shoulder on the inside lane, tailing his opponent, using him as a pacemaker of sorts. It means a shorter run by the smallest of margins but every foot counts. As they turn the last bend, Mark can hear the crowd roar, and through the cacophony of noise:
‘Come on, Bro! DON’T LET THE FAGGOT WIN!’ Lynette pours kerosene on an already burning fire.
Mark’s heart punches harder, pumping blood into his legs, propelling him faster than he’s ever run before. He’ll show them. He’ll leave them all behind, not just today here on this running track but for every day, from this point, going onwards, for the rest of his life. He makes his move, darting out on Davis’s right shoulder and passing him with ease. Davis attempts to stop him by reaching out and shoulder-barging, but Mark is too fast; he thrusts down the home straight and across the line, just seconds after Ben Knot. The crowd explodes. Mark’s won silver and is delighted.265
In that moment, just as Chris Davis leaps across the line, Patel jogs over and Lynette throws her arms around Ben. As she passes Patel, she whispers something in his ear. She turns to congratulate her brother and starts to cross the field towards Mark Cherry. He is bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Just as he is about to stand for a victory lap, Lynette takes the waistband of his shorts and yanks them to the floor. Mark’s bare buttocks, and everything else for that matter, are on show for all to see. Patel zooms in, laughing his head off as the crowd erupts into more laughter and jeers.
