CHERUB: The General (38 page)
Teeth looked relieved as he stepped into the ring. ‘Could someone get me some ice for Martin’s nose, please?’
As Dante ducked between the ropes to leave the ring he found the Führer standing right in front of him.
‘Sweet-faced little bulldog,’ the Führer beamed, as he gave Dante a quick hug and slipped a ten-pound note into his palm. ‘You gonna wear a Brigands patch one day?’
‘Sure,’ Dante said, as the other Brigands gathered around, saying stuff like
you saved the club’s honour
and taking it in turns to shake his hand.
Two metres behind, Teeth had Martin sitting up. The boy’s nose dripped blood on to the wooden boards. As Teeth held a handkerchief over a split lip, Martin kept saying thank you because he knew he’d have come off far worse if his father had done the beating.
Joe chased his friend as Dante walked away from the ring, looking at the clotting blood spattered up his arm as he crossed into the deserted bar.
‘You were
lethal,’
Joe said enthusiastically. ‘When my brother’s nose burst! Oh man, I wish I’d been allowed to do that!’
Dante kept walking silently, until he was out in the night air facing a line of bikes.
‘You OK?’ Joe asked uncertainly. ‘He didn’t even hit you, did he?
And
you got a tenner off my dad.’
‘Just shut
up
a minute,’ Dante said, as he tried getting his head straight. He felt really confused and if Joe hadn’t been standing there, he probably would have started crying.
