Rentboy

next couple of years in constant fear of the next beating, worrying that the twins were being
    hurt, watching his mother drink herself into a coma, or kill the fucking bastard who was the cause of
    all their troubles.

    * * * *
    Outside St. Pancras Station a mobile tea wagon gave free tea and sandwiches to homeless

    people. There was always a lineup. Fox joined the end behind an elderly woman who smelled worse
    than the alley off Tisbury Court. When he got to the front, he looked up at the curly-haired man in the
    black shirt and white dog collar. “Can I have a cup of tea, no milk?”
    The man handed him a mug of strong tea. “Spam or cheese sarnie”
    “I don’t want a sandwich, thanks. Anyway, I’m a vegan.”
    “A what?” The man looked dumbfounded. “You’re too thin. You should eat something.”
    “The tea is great. Thanks.” Fox walked away and sat on a bench to drink from the heavy,
    chipped mug. “That’s builder’s tea, that is,” his mum always said when the tea was too strong and
    she was still sober enough to notice. There was a time when she had made him laugh, when she had
    tucked him into bed at night and kissed him and made nice meals. Now she spent her days like Fox
    and the twins, trying to avoid William Baillie’s fists.
    “Are you homeless?”
    Fox looked up from the depths of the mug as the man sat beside him on the bench. “I’m not
    Catholic.”
    “Neither am I. I’m an Anglican.” The vicar’s brown eyes were really kind, reminding Fox for a
    minute of Eddie, but the man was much heavier built than Eddie, and older, probably midthirties.
    “Church of England, not Rome. Are you homeless, because to be honest, you don’t look it. You’re too
    clean.”
    Had Eddie thought that too? “I suppose you see homeless people all the time.”
    “Yes. And I’ve seen you around Tisbury Court a few times just lately. Prostitution is never the
    answer. There is always a way out of your problems.”
    “I was just trying to decide what it is.” Kill William Baillie or kill William Baillie.
    “Do you have an answer yet? I can pray with you if you’d like.”
    Fox met his gaze. “Are you, you know, sworn to secrecy like a Catholic priest?”
    “Yes. I can hear a confession, and it is sacrosanct.”
    “Good. Well, here it is. My confession. I’m going to kill my dad.”
    Horror registered in the vicar’s eyes as his mouth dropped open. “What? You can’t do that.”
    “I’ve got no choice, mate. It’s him or us.” Fox handed him the empty mug and walked away.

    * * * *
    At the front door Fox removed his boots. A quick look in the living room told him his mum was

    already in bed, either chased upstairs by his father or having struggled up there on her own before
    William Baillie got up.
    Listening, as alert as a fox, he tried to tune in to his father. Should he do it now? No. He was too
    tired. In order to avoid getting home too soon he had walked part of the way before getting the tube
    and then the bus. All he wanted right now was to sleep. Quickly he ran on tiptoes up the stairs,
    carrying his boots. If he could make it to his bedroom without seeing his father, he could hide in the
    wardrobe to sleep for a while. No locks were allowed on any of the doors inside the house. Not even
    the bathroom. No one was allowed to avoid William Baillie even if they wanted to.
    Inside Fox’s darkened bedroom, huddled in his bed, lay the twins. They whimpered when he
    opened the door. “What’s up?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “It’s me, Fox.” He switched on the
    lamp. The twins lay as they always did in bed, bodies wrapped around each other. They sat up
    gingerly. They’d been beaten again. “Did he belt your arses?” Four big eyes stared hollowly back at
    him. “Show me.”
    The twins pulled off their pajamas to show recent red stripes across their backs and buttocks.
    Tears burned Fox’s eyes, and the urge to cut himself bubbled up inside him. He sat on the bed and
    gathered them into his arms. Despite the warm morning, they shivered uncontrollably. “When did he
    do it? Last night?”
    Nothing. They looked at him, then laid their heads on his shoulders.
    “Don’t worry. I’m going to kill him soon. I just need to figure out how.”
    “Fox!” Baillie’s voice outside on the landing made them jump.
    “Let’s get in the wardrobe, quick,” Fox whispered.
    All three scrambled off the bed and into the wardrobe on the nest of pillows and blankets