Joe’s body was tired. Very tired and it felt like stone. He didn’t want to move from his comfy bed. It was warm and soft and like a little bit of heaven. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to face the day. He felt like he’d only just gone to bed, like he’d been up all night.
That was one hell of a dream, he thought to himself as he rolled over and pulled the duvet in around him so that he resembled a giant caterpillar. Almost. He could feel the cold air on his feet that were sticking out of the bottom of the duvet, so he pulled his legs up to his chest. That was what tended to happen when a seventeen-year-old was forced to use the duvet of a small child. It still had the same cover on from when he was seven. Paw Patrol. Yes. Paw Patrol. It might have been pushing it for a cool seven-year-old to have a Paw Patrol cover, but at seventeen years old? Yep, that was truly pathetic. As you can imagine, no friends had ever visited his room or his house.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t asked for a new duvet and cover. He had. The duvet itself was that old. It smelled that old as well. Joe didn’t really want to think about all the bugs nestling in it. He had tried to wash it once but it had dried funny and had become all lumpy.
It was better than his bed though. Actually, Joe hadn’t technically got a bed, just a single mattress on the floor that his shit-head stepdad had saved from a skip. It was, at least, a full-size single, although Joe didn’t like to think too much about where it had come from. He also didn’t like to think too hard about the stains, in various shades of brown, that covered it or the little holes that were peppered over its surface.
Joe decided at that moment that the first thing he would buy with his first pay packet – if he got the job, of course – would be a new mattress. The bed he’d have to save up for, along with a place of his own. A place of safety for Lola. A place of safety.
But then, his heart dropped into his stomach – like the body in his dreams had dropped into the open grave – as he realised that he couldn’t buy a mattress because, if he bought a mattress his shit-head stepdad would know that he had enough money from his job to buy things like that and that would mean trouble. He knew he’d have to pay rent, of course, and he knew they’d bleed him dry for that but if shit-head knew he was bringing in enough money to buy a mattress, shit-head wouldn’t like it. Shit-head wouldn’t want him buying mattresses because shit-head would expect ALL the money for himself. And if Joe didn’t give it to him? Shit-head would attack Lola. Again. And if that didn’t work – it would because Lola was Joe’s life – he’d take it anyway. However, he could. By whatever means.
Joe sighed loudly. The new mattress would have to wait. For now, at least.
‘Joe Bones!’ It was his mother screeching from the bottom of the stairs.
Joe bolted upright in bed. What had he done now?
‘Get your arse down ‘ere NOW!’
He sighed again. Today was going to be a bad one, he could feel it in his bones. And, it had only just started. He swung his legs off the mattress and looked over to the door.
‘What the…?’ There was a pile of muddy clothes on the floor and a pool of dirt on the bare floorboards around his normally clean trainers.
It seemed he had some explaining to do. It also seemed that his dream of burying a dead body in the middle of the night, the coach and horses and Azrail and Mrs Crow, might not have been a dream after all.