HWSNBN (He Who Shall Not Be Named)

Introduction

“Thanks for offering to help out here, Gavin, and don’t call me, sir. It’s taken ages to gain their trust, and most of them have shelved the fact I’m a copper. John will do fine in here.”

I looked at him a bit surprised, smiled and said, “Oh, okay John. What’s on the agenda for tonight, then?” I glanced at the dilapidated hall and wondered why any teenager would want to spend time in this scruffy place. I’d never seen anything like it. Talk about Graffiti, Banksy would have run a mile from this lot. (For anyone not in the know, Bristol Graffiti Artist, UK; work worth a mint).

John noticed me twisting my face so I made out I was scratching the back of my arm. I knew it hadn’t worked and tried to ignore the frown on his brow, no matter how deep it cut.

I won’t be asked again at this bloody rate, or anywhere else if I sod this up. Think, you idiot!

Two boys fell through the double-doors, punching each other; laughing and clowning around. When they saw me, they stopped dead in their tracks, eyeing me up and down, annoyed I was there.

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