Page 45 - Maj 2020 PDF

television is turned on with the volume completely up to the max, the laughing-

machine still drowns out all other noise.
Janokovic gets up and walks out to the hallway, opening the door.

"Good morning."

A young police officer stands outside, showing Jano his police badge, while
staring at him as though as he is already under suspicion.

Janokovic freezes up for a moment, a light shiver runs down his back. A thought

rushes through his head. He could slam the door, and flee through the small yard
behind the house, and then through the small gardens and courtyards. They

wouldn't be able to catch him, he knows the neighbourhood like the inside of his
pocket. But somehow he regains his composure and responds with an almost

inaudible voice.

"Uh, good morning… My mother isn’t home now."
"Willy Rochdale." The officer reaches out to him for a greeting, presenting his

hand.

For a moment, Willy Rochdale stares at the skinny, black-haired boy with his
close-set eyes, before taking out his notebook and a pen from his left breast-

pocket.
“Are there other adults in the house, I mean except your mother? I need to talk

to an adult."

Out of the corner of the eye, Janokovic can spot another officer sitting, holding a
small microphone, which he keenly and continuously speaks in. He doesn’t look

toward the house, but looks concentrated on some papers he is holding in the

other hand.
"No, only me and my mate are at home."

"Hmm." The officer looks at him suspiciously again. "Where are your parents?"

Willy Rockdale speaks with a distinct Northern English accent. Janokovic has
come to know the difference between the dialects through Jack. He thinks stuff

like that is utterly important.

"My mother is over at her boyfriend's place. His name is Jack." The words his
utters out is in an abruptly manor. Jano is starting to sweat profusely.

"Well," the officer says, staring at him with fixed eyes, as he continues: