Excerpt from The Tightrope Walkers by David Almond, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Dad elbowed me.

"Speak up for yerself. Tell him your name."

I looked into Vincent's eyes, looked down again."Dominic," I said.

"I'm really, really sorry, Dominic."

"Are ye?" said Dad.

"Aye! Really. Aye!"

"So it won't happen again, will it?"

"No, mister."

"Cos if it does I swear I'll bliddy swing for ye. Do ye knaa what that means?"

"Aye, mister! Aye!"

"Good." He shoved

Vincent away from us. "Now bugger off back into the house and diy something to help yer mother."

"Aye, mister. I will right now."

He scuttled back into the house.

Dad put his hand tenderly on my shoulder at last.

"Look at you," he said. "You'd think you'd been to bliddy war." He dabbed the tears and blood. "Ye'll need to toughen up, eh?"

"He'll learn," said Mrs. McAlinden.

"Will he?" said Dad.

Mrs. McAlinden shrugged. She shook her head.

"Kids!" she said.

We went back up through the estate. Holly and Bill and Mam were still standing there. Mrs. Stroud still sang.

"That bugger there," Dad said softly. "That Stroud bloke. He's a conchie. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes, Dad."

"So he'll not be much use to you, will he? And just listen to the lunatic upstairs."

"'Morning has broken, like the first mo-o-o-orning . . .'

""You ever heard owt like that?"

"No, Dad."

"No.

Anyway they'll not be stayin much longer. This is a place for the likes of us and not the likes of them."

Mam came to us and cuddled me.

"Better now?" she said.

"Aye, Mam."

I lifted the handkerchief away.

"What a mess," she said. "But look, it's stopping now. Soon there'll be a scab and then a little scar, then it'll be like nothing happened at all."

"Better now?" said Bill.

I nodded.

"Brave lad," said Bill.

"Come out again soon," said Holly.

We went inside. Mam cleaned me up with Dettol and cotton wool and put an Elastoplast on me. Dad went upstairs and changed his clothes, and came back smelling of toothpaste and Old Spice. We had pork pie and chips and peas. We all sat together on the sofa and Dad smoked and Mam waved his smoke away.

Dad laughed at her, cuddled her, kissed her and sighed.

We watched The Lone Rangerand the picture fuzzed and faded and crackled in and out of view. Dad imitated the voices of the Indians and of Tonto.

"Kemosabe!" he said. "Ungawa!"

Mam clicked her tongue and laughed.

"That's from Tarzan!" she said.

"What is?""Ungawa. Isn't it, Dominic?"

"Aye," I said. "It means, Cheetah, go and get an elephant!"

Dad snorted and stood up, ready to go to the Iona Club. He kissed Mam, he stroked my hair.

"Hoy the rock back at him next time," he said.

"Don't say that!" said Mam.

He stood with his back to the fire and pondered.

"Why not?" he said. "Seems to me there should be a bit more of that Vincent McAlinden in him, and a little bit less of that Holly bliddy Stroud."

Mam rolled her eyes and he went away.

"More of Vincent McAlinden!" she scoffed.

We stayed together on the sofa. She clicked her tongue, for there was blood again, showing through the Elastoplast. She peeled it free.

"The skin's that thin," she said. "That's the trouble."

She tried dressing it again, and soon put me to bed.

"Don't forget your prayers," she said.

She kissed me and left me. I lay and listened to the night. Listened for the ghosts and monsters that all we children dreaded in this place. And then I slept, and Dad woke me: his footsteps, the click of the gate, the click and clash of the front door. I heard my parents talking softly together, then coming up the stairs.I touched my brow, licked my fingers.

The Tightrope Walkers Copyright © 2014 by David Almond. Reproduced by permission of the publisher, Candlewick Press, Somerville, MA.