Like This, for Ever

‘On the radio on the way over,’ he said. ‘The bloke said that in view of latest developments – I think that’s what he said – the investigation team would be bringing in Van Helsing to act as an advisor. My dad called him a Ducking Bat and switched the radio off.’
    ‘A Ducking Bat?’
    Huck grinned. ‘No, he didn’t say that, just something that sounds a lot like it. He’s not supposed to swear in front of me, but I don’t tell on him because I know more swear words than anyone else in my class.’
    ‘You must be very proud.’
    Huck’s eyes narrowed. ‘I know who Van Helsing is, though.’
    ‘Do you?’
    ‘He’s the black guy in
Young Dracula
. The one with the stupid hat who’s always trying to catch the vampires but never manages it. I don’t know why you’d want him on your team, he’s a twit with a different vowel sound.’
    ‘A what?’
    ‘Twit with a different vowel sound. You know, twit, twot, tw—’
    Dana held up her hand. ‘Yeah, I get it. Well, there are no such things as vampires. I’m looking for an evil, but otherwise very ordinary, man or woman, and I will not be hiring anyone called Van Helsing. Now, what was your second question?’
    Huck spun the chair right round and sat in it, then looked down at the desk and arranged the pencils into a square shape. His mouth twisted into a lopsided pout.
    ‘Auntie Dana,’ he began, without looking up.
    He hardly ever called her that.
    ‘Yes, Huckleberry?’
    He looked up, down, up again. ‘Are you still gay?’ he asked her.
    Oh God, the last thing she’d expected. He’d been teased at school. This child, probably the closest she’d ever come to having one of her own, was embarrassed by her.
    ‘Yes, Huck,’ she said, watching his little face fall. Kids could never really hide what they were feeling. ‘Why, has someone said—’
    ‘No, I thought you probably would be. It’s just …’
    She really didn’t want to be having this conversation right now. Except when these conversations arrived, there was no avoiding them. ‘Just what?’
    His eyes were on his feet, his trainers kicking the leg of her desk, his hands tucked in his pockets. Then he looked up again.
    ‘I really think my dad needs a girlfriend,’ he said.
    ‘Oh? Why?’
    ‘Even Mum’s starting to say he does. He’s just in such a bad mood all the time. Always grumpy.’
    The little face in front of her looked so sad.
    ‘Is he grumpy with you?’ she asked.
    Huck shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘With little things. You know, when the traffic lights change at the last minute, or he spills some coffee on the worktop. Or if he forgets something. If you’re happy, you don’t get cross with little things, do you?’
    ‘No, I guess you don’t.’
    Footsteps outside. The two of them exchanged a glance that was half guilt, half intrigue. ‘We’ll talk about this some more,’ said Dana. ‘In the meantime, what’s the third thing you want to ask me?’
    ‘Are you going to make us eat vegetarian muck again?’ said Huck as the door opened and his dad reappeared.
    ‘Matey, will you get me some water?’ he asked Huck, holding the door open. ‘Water fountain at the end of the corridor.’
    ‘OK,’ said Huck, getting up and sauntering out.
    ‘What?’ said Mark, when his son had gone.
    ‘Nothing. Anything strike you downstairs?’
    ‘Just the blood, for the moment. Lot of it to get rid of. It’s going to make a hell of a mess in a house. So, either he lives alone, in which case it doesn’t matter how much mess he makes …’
    ‘We’re pretty certain he doesn’t though,’ interrupted Dana. ‘Circumstances allow him a certain amount of freedom in the late afternoons, early evenings. Then he’s expected to be home.’
    ‘So he has somewhere else to work. An outbuilding, a lock-up, even a garden shed. Which tend not to be connected to the sewer system.’
    ‘I’m not following.’
    Mark lowered himself into the chair Huck had just left, only he sat on it with the chair-back facing his chest. ‘If the blood is being poured down a domestic sink, it’ll go straight into the foul-water drain and join the municipal sewerage system. In this city, with hundreds of thousands of litres of sewerage being processed every day, it’ll soon get lost.’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘On the other hand, if it’s not getting into the sewerage system, it most likely is going into a storm drain.’
    ‘When did you become an expert on sewerage?’
    ‘Not