Double Exposure by Brian Caswell Page B

stepping closer and raising his hands into two loosely closed fists. ‘Let go of the pram and move away and I won’t actually break anything.’
    Ian hesitates, sizing up his opposition, one hand still resting on the handle of the stroller.
    Cain shakes his head slowly. When he speaks again, it is a teacher to a slow child. ‘Here’s the way it is. It’s a one-time offer and it expires in ten seconds. Step away from the pram.’
    The confidence seems to drain from Ian’s face. Then, without warning, he lunges, throwing a roundhouse punch with all his strength, but his opponent is ready.
    Dropping beneath the swinging arm, Cain bends one knee and sweeps with the other leg, striking the bully’s shins painfully and raking his feet from under him.
    Ian topples like a felled tree and his wrist collapses beneath him with an audible crack. A stifled scream and he rolls over onto his back, holding his damaged wrist.
    The newcomer stands over him, looking down and shaking his head in mock-frustration.
    â€˜You should have listened, man … Right now, I think an apology might be a really good idea.’
    But Ian is scrambling to his knees, moaning with the pain. He struggles to his feet and stumbles away, still holding his wrist and limping painfully.
    She watches as Cain moves to follow him.
    â€˜Cain, no!’ He pauses and turns his head to look back at her. ‘Let him go. He’s not going to give us any more trouble.’
    He turns slowly around, a smile creeping into his expression. ‘Cain’s at home, sleeping. He pulled a late shift last night. I’m Chris, the prodigal brother. And you must be T.J.’
    He holds out his hand to help her up and she accepts the assistance. For a moment she stares at him, through him. Then she turns to check on Ty, who sits silently in his seat, with the half-dazed look of the newly awoken.
    Satisfied, she straightens, turning to face him.
    â€˜How do you know my name?’
    A small laugh. ‘How couldn’t I? My brother hasn’t talked about anything else for the last six weeks.’
    â€˜But, I mean … How did you know it was me? I’ve never met you before.’
    â€˜Maybe not, but I’ve seen you. A hundred times. He’s got your picture as a wallpaper on his phone.’
    She begins picking up the scattered groceries and he bends to help her.
    â€˜Thank you,’ she says, but he just shrugs his shoulders and continues gathering the fallen items.
    â€˜All part of the service,’ he says, and in that moment he sounds just like his brother.
    She stands and turns the stroller around. ‘I can’t believe you just … If you hadn’t come, I don’t know …’
    â€˜Right place, right time, I guess. The Lord moves in mysterious ways.’
    *
    T.J.’s story
    Fate, or blind luck?
    Out of a city of three million people, in a suburb of maybe a hundred thousand, he just happens to be there at precisely the right moment.
    I stood there looking at him gathering up my groceries, as if I’d just had a minor mishap in the shopping-centre car park. There was no sense of drama, nothing in his manner that might suggest he’d just faced off with a guy who was much taller and heavier. And more violent …
    I searched for differences between him and his brother. Nothing in his features – it was like looking at Cain. The same eyes; deep blue, almost violet. The same hair, though while Cain wore it gelled and spiked, Chris left the natural wave untouched.
    The difference wasn’t physical, but it was there.
    It was there in the way he stood, in the confidence that shone from those eyes, in the cynical edge to his smile.
    As he placed the last of the groceries into the bag, he crouched beside the stroller, with his eyes at the same level as Ty’s.
    â€˜You okay, Champ?’
    Ty didn’t reply. I think he was a little confused. Here was someone who looked like