Free Brotherhood of Blades by Linda Regan Page A

instant the same youth pulled a blade and danced in front of her, waving the knife and urging her to take it from him.
    Another man seemed to come from nowhere. Quick as a fox, he knocked the knife out of the youth’s hand, sending it clattering to the ground. Hank Peacock moved quickly to lift and bag it. Stephanie and three uniformed police moved in to arrest the youth, and Stephanie managed to knee him hard in the balls as they struggled with him.
    ‘Move back,’ the newly arrived police shouted as some of the mob surged forward. Sticks and stones were still flying, but most of the mob retreated as more sirens screamed into the estate. The police outnumbered the crowd by quite a margin now; not only would Yo-Yo Reilly’s supporters fail to prevent his arrest, they would end up being arrested with him.
    The man who had jumped in and knocked the knife out of the youth’s hand watched the crowd retreating. ‘I think I came at a good moment,’ he said to Georgia, managing a brief smile.
    ‘Thank you,’ Georgia said without looking round. She felt desperately uncomfortable, and horribly aware of the smell of whatever had landed in her hair. ‘I don’t think we’ve met?’
    ‘David Dawes. Detective Inspector. I’ve just been seconded to this enquiry.’ He didn’t look at Georgia, but kept his eyes pinned on the last of the youths as a uniformed sergeant warned them to stay back.
    None of them moved. DI Dawes took a step nearer to them and shouted above the din. ‘Move back, now. If anyone makes any attempt to prevent us leaving with this prisoner, we will arrest you, all of you if necessary, and you will be charged with obstruction.’ He nodded to the uniforms flanking Yo-Yo, to indicate that they should get him into the prisoner’s van as quickly as possible. This time no one tried to stop them.
    Once Yo-Yo was in the van, Hank Peacock pushed the other handcuffed youth in beside him and the van was locked. The driver took off toward the station without further delay. As it sped out of the estate, more bricks and chairs were hurled down from high up on the estate. But as it disappeared, the crowds started to disperse.
    Georgia was angry and upset. She didn’t want anyone else to see the effect that the faeces in her hair were having on her. The memory of Clapham Common all those years ago was back with her. She needed to be on her own, preferably at home and in the shower. She made her way quickly towards Stephanie’s car.
    Stephanie caught up with her and clicked open the car door as DI Dawes came up behind them.
    ‘Probably not a good place to get acquainted,’ he said flashing his ID card. ‘I’ll see you at the station. I’m on attachment with you, for this case.’
    Stephanie was beaming at him. ‘Drop me home first,’ Georgia said to her. ‘I need to shower and wash my hair before I go back to the station.’
    Stephanie drove in silence, much to Georgia’s relief. Stephanie was oblivious to Georgia’s history, but though she joked about most things, in the five years they had worked closely together she had learned that Georgia’s cleanliness phobia wasn’t a subject for hilarity. Only occasionally, when they paused at traffic lights, did she lift her eyebrows, wrinkle her nose and twinkle in Georgia’s direction.
    Georgia stared out of the window and said not a word.
    As Sally Young set up her stall her mind was turning nineteen to the dozen. It seemed only yesterday that her teenage daughter Wendy had broken the news that she was pregnant. Wendy was a crack addict, so poor Jason was born to suck a drug-taker’s milk, then left to fend for himself while Sally worked long hours at cleaning jobs to bring in money to keep a roof over the three of them.
    It was years later, after Wendy died, that she found out that the boy had often been left hungry. She never forgave herself for not noticing. It was no wonder he turned to stealing.
    If she had of known of his love of dancing earlier, she