Here are the first three chapters of Danny and Gaz. If you'd like to read the whole book, send me an email and I'll email it to you in PDF format (file is 344kb). There is no charge.

© copyright Derek Gillard 2001
Danny and Gaz is my copyright. You are welcome to download these sample chapters and print them for your own personal use, provided my name as the author is attached. But you may not publish them, upload them onto any other website, or sell them, without my permission.

The characters and events portrayed in Danny and Gaz are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Danny was sitting on the bench in the corner of the playground, minding his own business, reading his computer magazine, when he saw two pairs of legs in front of him. He looked up. It was Bruce Miller and Clayton Oldfield.

'Where's your little Pakki friend?' said Bruce.

Danny stood up. 'What's it got to do with you?'

Bruce pushed him and he fell back on the bench. As he did so, he noticed that a wallet had fallen out of the back pocket of Bruce Miller's jeans. He pretended not to notice it.

'Well? Where is he, then?'

'I dunno. What do you want him for, anyway?'

Clayton grabbed him by his sweatshirt. 'That's our business,' he said.

At that moment, Danny saw Quasim coming across the playground.

'Kaz!' he yelled.

Bruce and Clayton looked round. Danny bent down, grabbed the wallet and threw it to Quasim.

'My wallet!' shouted Bruce.

Quasim, whose favourite game was cricket, caught the wallet easily and ran off with it. Bruce and Clayton ran after him.

For a few moments Danny and Quasim played a game of piggy-in-the-middle, throwing the wallet to each other across the playground while Bruce and Clayton swore at them and tried to get it back.

'You wait, you two, you've had it now. I'll get my brother on to you!' shouted Bruce. 'You wait till tonight!'

'Come here at once! All of you!'

They looked round. Mr Parsons, the deputy head, was striding towards them.

'He stole my wallet Sir,' said Bruce.

'Is this true?' demanded Mr Parsons.

Danny handed over the wallet.

'Right you two. You can go straight to Mrs Walters.'

'But Sir ...'

'Go on. Now.' And he stood and watched as Danny picked up his magazine and he and Quasim made their way slowly across the playground.

Sandra Fulton, another of Bruce's friends, was sitting at a table in the corridor outside Mrs Walters's office. She'd been kept in, as usual. She looked up as Danny and Quasim came in.

Mrs Walters was standing at her office door talking to their form tutor, Miss Powell.

'So when's the performance?' Miss Powell was saying.

'Sunday evening,' said Mrs Walters. 'I've got rehearsals tonight and on Friday. It doesn't leave much time for anything else but ... '

'Mr Parsons said we got to see you,' said Danny.

'Excuse me!' said Mrs Walters. 'I was talking to Miss Powell.'

Typical, thought Danny. Teachers were never interested in what he had to say.

'Yes, as I was saying,' said Mrs Walters, 'I've always enjoyed my singing.'

Miss Powell smiled at Mrs Walters, glared at Danny and disappeared into the staff room. Sandra Fulton scribbled something on a scrap of paper and put it in her pocket.

'You two can stay here until I've found out what all this is about,' said Mrs Walters.
She walked off towards the main entrance.

'Huh! Why didn't she ask us?' said Danny.

Quasim shook his head.

A few minutes later she returned. 'Right,' she said. 'I've seen Mr Parsons. You can stand here for the rest of the lunch hour.'

'Oh Miss, that's not fair ... '

'It's perfectly fair, Danny. You're Year 7 now. You ought to know better.'

'But Miss, it was Bruce Miller ...'

Mrs Walters wasn't listening. She'd gone into her office and closed the door.

At the end of the lunch hour she told them that stealing someone's wallet was so serious that she would have to write to their parents.

Danny was furious. 'It was Bruce Miller who started it. What about him?'

But Mrs Walters had disappeared into her office again.

Danny sat at the back in history. He had a desk to himself by the window. Old man Blake was busy writing notes all over the blackboard and rattling on about some tea party or other in America. Danny wasn't listening. He gazed across the room at Quasim. What did Bruce Miller want him for? He could guess. Bruce and his older brother, Andy, had been in trouble with the police several times. Shoplifting mostly. And each time they hadn't done it themselves, they'd bullied some smaller kid into doing it for them. Was that why Bruce wanted Kaz? He looked at his friend. He was small for his age but tougher than you'd think. And honest. He couldn't see Kaz agreeing to any thieving. Not unless ...

He suddenly realised that Mr Blake was talking to him.

'I said, is that clear Danny Wilson?'

'Yes Sir, thanks,' said Danny. He turned over a page in his history book.

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Danny packed his books in his bag and went over to Quasim.

'Come on Kaz, let's get out of here.'

They made their way along Cromwell Road towards the bus station.

'Coke?' said Danny, as they reached the bus station.

Quasim nodded, and was fumbling in his pocket for some change when they heard shouting. They looked round. Bruce Miller and his gang were coming across the bus station.

'Oi!' shouted Bruce. 'I'll teach you to nick my wallet.'

'See you,' said Quasim.

'Yeah. See you,' said Danny.

They shot off in different directions.

Danny ran down the alleyway to Bank Street. He ran till he came to the wooden gate at the side of the Red Lion pub. He slipped inside, pushed it shut and crouched down behind it.

A few seconds later he heard footsteps running along the pavement. They stopped just outside the gate. Through a crack in the gate he could see Sandra Fulton's anorak.

'Where's he gone?' she said. 'He's disappeared.'

'Leave him for now,' said Clayton. 'Let's go and find Andy.'

'When did you say she'd be out?' said Bruce.

'Tonight and Friday,' said Sandra. 'Look. I wrote it down.'

Danny saw her pull a crumpled scrap of paper from her pocket and hand it to Bruce.

'Well done Sandra,' he said.

The gang moved off and the voices faded into the distance.

He put his eye to the crack again but he couldn't see anything. He didn't want to stay here too long. For a start, the landlord of the Red Lion hated kids. He put his head over the gate and peered down the street. The Miller gang had gone.

He was about to open the gate when something hard landed on his head. Within seconds, huge hailstones were crashing down all round him. He looked round. There was an old wooden shed beside the pub and the door was open. He ran over to it, went in and shut the door.

He sat on an upturned bucket listening to the drumming of the hailstones on the roof and thinking about the conversation he'd just heard. Bruce Miller and his gang were planning to go house-breaking. At least, that's what it sounded like. So he and Kaz would catch them at it. An idea began to take shape in his head. But he'd need the help of someone a bit older. Someone who could pass for an adult. And then it struck him. Gary of course! His brother was seventeen. He'd do. But would he help? And there was another problem. His mum.

Things had been difficult at home since his dad had left a year or so ago. There'd been a big row when Gary got into trouble with the police. His dad had told Gary to 'Get out of this house and don't come back!' And Gary had done just that.

But the biggest row had happened when his dad lost his job. He'd been a train driver. One night he'd been drinking with some of his mates before he went on the night shift. He hadn't been drunk - or so he'd said - but he was found out and sacked. His mum had gone ballistic. Next morning his dad got up and left. No breakfast. Not a word to him or his mum. Just left. He'd never fancied breakfast ever since.

He peered out of the grimy window. The hail had turned to rain now.

He opened the shed door and made his way back towards the bus station, deep in thought. His mum had made it clear she didn't want him to have anything to do with Gary, ever since that trouble with the police. OK then. He'd go and stay with Gary for a day or two. While he sorted out the Miller gang.

Chapter 2

There was a problem about going to his brother's. Where was it? He knew Gary and his girlfriend Karen had a room in a house somewhere the other side of town. He'd been there once with his mum. She'd argued with Gary and she didn't like Karen much so they hadn't been back. He tried to remember the address. It began with a P ... Primrose ... yes, that was it, Primrose Avenue. It sounded posh but it wasn't.

He reached the bright lights of the bus station. One or two buses were in and there were quite a few people about. He glanced around. He couldn't see anyone he knew. He walked over to the inspectors' office. There was a map on the wall outside showing bus routes. Where was Primrose Avenue? It took him some time to find it, but eventually, there it was, a longish street running roughly north to south on the left hand side of the map. Buses five and eight seemed to go there. He was just about to get down from the bench when he heard Quasim's voice.

'Hi Dan.'

'Hi Kaz. You OK?'

'Yeah. They didn't catch me.'

'Nor me. Listen Kaz, they're planning something.'

'More shoplifting?'

'Worse. Housebreaking. But we're going to catch them.'

Quasim looked dubious. 'How?'

'I'm working on a plan. I'm going to see Gary.'

'Where ...?'

'Other side of town. Primrose Avenue.' He pointed to the map.

Quasim looked. 'Does your mum know you're going?'

'Nope.'

'What, are you running away?'

'Sort of. For a day or two. Till I've got Bruce Miller sorted.'

They sat down on a bench. Quasim took some sweets out of his pocket and offered one to Danny.

'Thanks Kaz.'

Quasim looked at his watch. 'I'd better go. I'm supposed to be at the mosque in ten minutes.'

'Do me a favour, Kaz. Tell my mum I'm OK will you? Tell her not to worry. I'll be in touch tomorrow. But whatever you do don't tell her where I'm going. Promise?'

'OK.'

Danny looked around at the waiting buses. There was no sign of a five or an eight.

'Fancy that Coke?' he said, struggling with the zip pocket of his jacket.

'Dunno.' Quasim looked at his watch again. 'I'll be in trouble if I'm late. Oh, OK. Just a quick one.'

They made their way across to the cafe. Quasim went in first. He froze in the doorway. Leaning against the counter was Bruce Miller. The rest of his gang - Sandra Fulton and Clayton Oldfield and some older kids - were playing the fruit machine.

He turned and pushed Danny out of the door. 'Quick!' he whispered.

But it was too late. Bruce Miller had seen them.

They made for the alleyway. Danny turned right at the end and headed for his hiding place behind the wooden gate. Quasim disappeared the other way.

He could hear the sound of the odd car passing, but there was no sound of Bruce and his friends. He waited. He got his breath back. Still nothing. He peered over the top of the gate. No-one in sight. He must get back to the bus station or he'd never get a bus to his brother's tonight. He opened the gate. Then he heard noises. Shouting. Someone yelling. They'd got Quasim.

He ducked down behind the gate again. The shouting was getting nearer. He heard Quasim's voice. 'Let me go, I've got to get to the mosque.'

'Shut up Pakki!' said Bruce. 'We'll let you go when you tell us where Danny Wilson is. Wilson!' he shouted, 'We know you're round here somewhere. Come on out or your little Pakki friend gets it.'

Danny crouched even tighter behind the gate. What should he do? Stay here and hope they wouldn't find him? Or give himself up so that his friend could go free? Quasim must be having his arm twisted behind his back or something, the noise he was making.

Danny couldn't stand it any longer. He jumped up.

'OK Miller. Let him go,' he said.

Bruce Miller grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him across the top of the gate. 'Right, you've had it, Wilson,' he said. 'Get him, Sandra. Tie his hands behind his back with your scarf and bring him with us. No, tell you what, put them both in that shed and keep the door shut.'

'I'll do it,' said Clayton. He tied their hands with the scarf and pushed them towards the shed.

'Let Kaz go then,' said Danny.

'We'll let him go when we're ready,' said Bruce. 'Keep 'em here, you two. Won't be long.'

Danny and Quasim found themselves in the shed with Sandra and Clayton holding the door shut. They tried pushing it but it wouldn't shift.

'What shall we do?' whispered Quasim. 'I shall be in real trouble if I don't get to the mosque soon.'

'Turn round,' said Danny.

Quasim turned round and Danny pulled at the scarf. After some struggling, he managed to get his hands free. He untied Quasim.

'Look,' he said, 'when Miller comes back and they open the door we'll make a dash for it. Give us that rake.'

Quasim handed him the rake and Danny got ready for the door to open.

A few minutes went by. Sandra and Clayton were getting fed up with waiting.

'Oh come on Clay,' she said, 'I'm not standing here in the cold all night. Let's get 'em out now, give 'em a bashing and then get back to the caff.'

Danny nudged Quasim.

'All right by me,' said Clayton.

He pulled the door open and made a grab for Quasim. Danny flung the rake. It hit Sandra.

She shrieked. 'Ow, you little ... '

'Come on Kaz!'

Danny ran to the gate. But before he could open it, Bruce and his brother Andy appeared.

Andy was seventeen and big. 'And where d'you think you're going?' he said.

'Oh Bruce,' said Sandra, 'they flung this stick at us. I've hurt me face.'

'It's not a stick,' said Bruce. 'It's a rake, you dozey ... '

'Shut it, all of you!' said Andy. 'So these are the two, eh? They'll do nicely.'

It was obvious Andy was the real leader of the gang, even though Bruce liked to think he was.

There was little chance of escape now. They were led down Bank Street and then into another road with smart detached houses on either side. They walked along the street until they came to a house that was in darkness.

'Right, round the back,' whispered Andy. 'And keep your mouths shut.'

'No.' said Danny. This is getting serious, he thought.

'Shut up and do as you're told,' said Andy.

It was pitch black at the back of the house and it took a while for their eyes to adjust to the darkness.

'Right,' said Andy. 'See that little window up there?'

Danny looked up. A small window was slightly open. It was above an extension to the house that stuck out at the back.

'I'm gonna lift you up onto this roof and then you're gonna climb up that drainpipe and get in through the window. Then you come downstairs and open one of these big windows. Got it?'

'Forget it,' said Danny. 'I'm not ... '

'Yes you are,' said Andy. 'Here, get hold of him, Clay.'

Clayton got hold of Danny. Andy produced a knife from his back pocket and held it to Quasim's neck.

'You wouldn't dare,' said Danny.

'I wouldn't risk it if I was you,' said Bruce.

'Do it Dan,' said Quasim.

Danny decided he had no choice. 'OK, but you won't get away with this, Miller. I'll get you.'

'Get up there and shut your mouth.'

He lifted Danny up. Danny pulled himself up on to the flat roof of the extension. It was wet from the evening's rain and the knees of his jeans soaked up the cold water.

'Go on, then,' whispered Andy. 'Get in that window.'

Danny put one foot on the window sill, grabbed hold of the drainpipe and pulled himself up. His hand reached the little window. He pulled it open and squeezed through. He found himself in a small bedroom. There was a chest of drawers under the window and he let himself down on to it, his trainers leaving wet footprints on its polished surface. He climbed down on to the floor and made his way through the door out on to the landing. He ran down the stairs. He was petrified that someone might come home. The quicker he got this over with, the quicker he could get away.

He looked around the hall. It was a bit lighter here - the street light outside cast eerie shadows through the frosted glass of the front door. At the foot of the stairs was a small table with a phone on it. He hesitated. Should he dial 999? The gang outside wouldn't be able to stop him - they wouldn't even know. He could phone and then just wait inside until the police arrived. Wouldn't the gang get a surprise then!

His hand went to the receiver. He picked it up. His other hand moved towards the key pad. He pressed the 9. A sudden noise shook him. There was someone at the front door. He flattened himself against the wall and stood quite still. A newspaper slid through the letterbox and fell on to the mat. He breathed again. He'd had enough of this. He put the receiver down again.

On the table beside the phone was a framed photograph of a man and a woman. He picked it up and held it towards the front door. The light from the street lamp was just enough for him to make out the faces. It was Mrs Walters. It must have been taken some time ago - she looked younger. But it was definitely her. He'd broken into his head teacher's house! As if he didn't get into enough trouble at school already.

He put the photograph back on the table.

There was a cupboard under the stairs. He opened it. There was a small window. He fiddled with the catch but it wouldn't budge. And then he thought of Kaz, standing there on the patio with a knife at his throat.

He went into the back room and opened the window.

Andy Miller put his knife away. 'Where the hell've you been?' he said.

'You OK Kaz?' said Danny.

Quasim nodded and rubbed his throat. He looked as though he was going to faint.

Andy pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket, put them on and climbed in. He went into the front room and two minutes later he appeared with a video recorder.

'Hold this,' he said.

He climbed out of the window.

'OK, give it back to me.'

Danny handed him the video.

'Now, before you two think about going to the police, just think about this. Whose fingerprints are all over this house, eh? Whose fingerprints are all over this video? And whose footprints are on that window sill? Not mine. Just think about it kids. See yer.'

He hid the video under his jacket and turned to the others. 'Come on. We'll get the rest on Friday.'

And with that, Andy, Bruce, Clayton and Sandra were gone.

Danny and Quasim stood looking at each other through the open window.

'Come on, Dan. Let's get out of here before someone comes.'

He helped Danny climb out of the window. They peered round the side of the house. No-one about. They walked down the drive and into the road. Then they ran. They ran along the road with the smart houses, up Bank Street, past the Red Lion, past the wooden gate, up the alleyway and into the bus station. They didn't stop till they got to the inspector's office. They stood outside it, holding their sides and gasping for breath.

'Oh Dan,' said Quasim, when he eventually got his breath back, 'what on earth are we going to do?'

'Don't tell your mum and dad,' said Danny. 'Don't tell them anything. Not yet.'

A bus engine started up. He looked across and saw it was a number five. He ran across the bus station towards it.

'Don't forget to tell my mum what I said,' he called as the doors closed behind him. He fumbled in his pocket for some money. 'Primrose Avenue,' he said.

'OK my lad, fifty pence to you.'

He paid, took the ticket and collapsed into a seat just behind the driver.

The engine revved up and the bus pulled out of the bus station.

Chapter 3

When Quasim arrived home his dad was still working in the shop, putting tins of baked beans in a pile at the end of one of the rows of shelves.

'Hello Son. Did you have a good lesson?'

'OK.'

'Are you all right? You look a bit ...'

'Fine. Thanks.'

'OK. Go on upstairs and get your supper. I'm just going to close up.'

There were two doors at the back of the shop. One led into the yard where old cardboard boxes and wooden crates waited for the dustbin men. Quasim was just leaving by the other door - the one that led up the stairs to the flat - when the large figure of Danny's mum appeared in the shop doorway. She looked very worried. He hung around behind the door and listened.

'I don't understand it, Mr Khan. He sometimes plays around with his friends for a bit, but he's always home for his tea by six.' She looked at her watch. 'It's nearly eight now - where on earth can he be? You haven't seen him, have you?'

'I haven't, Mrs Wilson. Quasim's just come in, let me ask him.'

He went to the back door of the shop. Quasim started to run up the stairs but was only half way up when the door opened.

'Quasim,' said Mr Khan, 'have you seen Danny this evening?'

Quasim shook his head.

'I hope he's not getting into any trouble,' said Mrs Wilson. 'I had enough of that with his brother. I'll kill him.' And she left the shop.

Quasim started on his way up the stairs again.

'Quasim,' said Mr Khan, 'are you sure you're telling me everything? You were listening at the door weren't you?'

'I just wanted to know what Mrs Wilson wanted,' said Quasim, truthfully.

'Come down here,' said Mr Khan.

Quasim turned and slowly descended the stairs. He knew he'd have to tell his father the truth, and he wanted to, anyway.

'Now then, what's been going on?'

So Quasim told him how he and Danny had met in the bus station, how they'd been chased by the Miller gang and kept in the shed, and then how Andy Miller had held a knife to his throat and made Danny break into the house and steal the video recorder. Danny was going to sort the Miller gang out once and for all and had gone to his brother - Gary - to ask him to help.

His father thought for a while. The Miller gang had made life difficult for Mr and Mrs Khan. On one occasion - after Mr Khan had caught them stealing from the shop - they'd stood outside and shouted 'Pakkies out!' Mr Khan had thought about going to the police but had decided it was better not to. It would only make matters worse. And he remembered Gary. He'd certainly been no angel, but he'd never been any trouble to the Khans and he was a bright lad. Perhaps he could do something about the Millers. Perhaps it would be better than involving the police - it was worth a try.

'You'd better run round to Mrs Wilson and tell her, Quasim. She's worried sick.'

So Quasim ran off down the street to Danny's house. He knocked on the door. Mrs Wilson opened it.

'Quasim!' she said. 'Do you know where he is?'

'Not exactly,' said Quasim. 'He told me to tell you he's going away for a couple of days. He said he'd get in touch with you tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow! But where is he now?'

'I'm sorry Mrs Wilson, I promised I wouldn't say.'

'You do know, then?'

'Well, he caught a bus,' said Quasim.

'His brother's!' she said. 'That's where he's gone, I bet. Thank you Quasim.'

She closed the door and Quasim walked slowly back to the shop, hoping he'd done the right thing.

'Did you tell her?' asked his father.

'Yes.'

'Good. Go on, then, go and get your supper.'

Quasim was not sorry to be home. It had been an evening he would not want to repeat. And yet, as he knew only too well, with the Miller gang around, it was an evening that could quite easily be repeated. Any time.