The Hard Way
By Tanya Allan
The Hard Way
By Tanya Allan
Copyright2005 Tanya Allan
Revised Edition Copyright 2012 Tanya Allan
All rights reserved.
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – for example, electronic, photocopy, data recording, etc… – without the prior written permission of the author or unless paid for through sales channels authorised and approved by the author. The only exception is brief quotation in printed reviews.
Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone.
Also by Tanya Allan on Amazon Kindle:
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A FAIRY’S TALE
AMBER ALERT
BEHIND THE ENEMY
EMMA
EVERY LITTLE GIRL’S DREAM
FLIGHT OR FIGHT
FORTUNE’S SOLDIER
GRUESOME TUESDAY
IN PLAIN SIGHT
MARINE 1
MODERN MASQUERADE
MONIQUE
QUEEN OF HEARTS
RING THE CHANGE
SHIT HAPPENS, SO DO MIRACLES
TANGO GOLF: COP WITH A DIFFERENCE
THE CANDY CANE CLUB
THE HARD WAY
THE OTHER SIDE OF DREAMS
THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A SUPER HERO
THE SUMMER JOB & OTHER STORIES
TO FIGHT FOR A DREAM
TWISTED DREAMS
WEIRD WEDNESDAY
WHEN FORTUNE SMILES
1.
Ricky came pounding round the corner, almost knocking Kyle off his feet.
“Shit!” said Kyle.
“Fuck, sorry mate!” said the other, taking a quick look behind him before dashing off towards the school offices.
It was April 2003, the beginning of the summer term, the pair’s final term at school. Kyle’s friend Ricky Hamley had managed to seriously upset a couple of rugger buggers over some petty disagreement. Ricky initially claimed he could not even remember what it was all about. All he knew was that they wanted revenge. The two boys, Roger Filby and Pete Groves, were the two biggest and best rugby players and all round athletes to come out of their year. They were both hoping to get to prime universities with first-class sports teams.
They also took exception to Ricky’s prolonged presence on planet earth, seeking to remove it at every opportunity.
“They are so ignorant and stupid,” Ricky said later, as they met up again after school, while walking home.
Kyle nodded, adjusting his round, ‘John Lennon’ style spectacles.
“I mean, they are so wrapped up in themselves, they can hardly see out of their own assholes!” Ricky continued.
“They may well be, but it doesn’t pay to tell them that to their faces,” his friend said.
“Okay, so they’re bigger and faster than me, too.”
Ricky went quiet.
“So, what you want to do about it?” Kyle asked.
Ricky shrugged. He was Kyle’s best friend. Actually, to tell the truth, Kyle was his only friend. They had grown up together, having met on their first day at school together all those years ago. It was not so much that they had a lot in common; when it came down to it, they had very little in common. It was more that they had both been together for so long that they didn’t really know anything else.
Both boys were average sized teenagers, the kind of boys that everyone instantly forgets. Ricky had very short, shorn hair. He preferred it short, as he was inherently lazy, so it required absolutely no effort at any time.
Kyle, on the other hand had unfashionably long hair, normally pulled back and restrained in a ponytail. Everyone thought it was a statement of rebellion, which went with his baggy clothes and generally untidy appearance. He wore the round glasses because he thought it made him look rather like the boffin in Star Gate. It didn’t actually, but he was ignorant of that fact.
Actually, the truth was somewhat different.
Kyle, at seventeen, was an intelligent and sensitive boy. He was also a deeply troubled and recently an increasingly unhappy one.
The youngest of three brothers, in an otherwise very happy home, Kyle realised when he was about five or six that nature had played a nasty trick on him. He wasn’t sure what that trick was, but he knew that something wasn’t right.
His father, Jacob Manning, was a superb role model for any son. He adored sports, so always spent as much quality time with his sons as he possibly could. He was a strict parent, but caring and scrupulously fair. Never having had the inclination to hit any of his sons. The respect they had for him was evident in all the boys’ behaviour and general demeanour.
The Manning boys were always considered the most polite and good-natured boys in every aspect of their lives. Their mother, Rebecca, was as strict her husband, yet in a very gentle and loving way.
Jake was now a Managing Director of his own engineering firm specialising in components for the air-conditioning industry. They had bought out several smaller firms during the recession, and his was now one of the largest in the Home Counties. They had moved out to Abingdon from London when the boys were young. They chose Abingdon because Rebecca’s parents lived there. Her father had not been at all well, dying shortly after the move, so it was only fitting that they now lived in the same road as her mother. Jake’s first works had been in London. He took the move as a step up and away from the stress of the large city.
His grandfather was of Irish descent, lost now to the family in the midst of an English way of life. However, he was the possessor a streak of temper that would be forever Irish, and it was restricted to those moments when fools displayed themselves in all their glory. He adored his sons, but was fiercely proud and protective of them, with high expectations for each of them.
Kyle had been only four at the time of the move, so couldn’t remember the small apartment in London. Rebecca was a pretty woman whose mother, Ingrid, was Swedish, having married an English doctor just after the Second World War and settled in Abingdon. There was more than a hint of Norse in Rebecca’s high cheekbones and very fair hair. Ingrid had insisted that all three of her children had learned Swedish as well as English. As many of the family holidays had been spent in Sweden, the boys, Andrew and Steven, (Kyle’s uncles) had met and subsequently married Swedish girls, leaving only Rebecca with them in England. Only Andrew still lived in Sweden, as Steven and his wife Madeline had settled in Canada.
Their house was bigger and more comfortable than anything they could have hoped for in London. Jake was now fifty and just wanted to stay in work until all the boys were through further education. Stephen at twenty-three had recently qualified as a doctor, ironically, at the London Hospital in the East End. Michael, two years behind him, was studying law, hoping to become a barrister.