by Kevin Brooks
‘No reason,’ I shrugged. ‘I just thought I’d come round, you know… I just wanted to see you…’
Eric frowned. ‘But you’d only just seen us at the police station. You must have known we weren’t in.’
I shook my head. ‘I didn’t come round straight after I’d seen you. It was about an hour later, maybe an hour and a half. I was going this way anyway and I thought you might have been back by then. So I just called in, you know… and that’s when I smelled the fire.’
‘Right,’ said Eric.
‘And then I found the back door open…’
‘And you needed to use the bathroom.’
‘Yeah… I didn’t think you’d mind.’ I looked at him. ‘I was just leaving when Wes showed up.’
Eric looked away.
I glanced at Nic.
‘Wes was here when we left,’ she told me. ‘That’s why we left the back door unlocked.’
I waited for her to go on, waiting for her to tell me why Campbell had been here when they left, but instead of answering me herself she raised her chin slightly and gazed over at Campbell, as if to say – why don’t you tell him, Wes? They stared at each other in silence for a while, and I could see there was something going on between them, but I had no idea what it was.
Eventually, Campbell just shrugged and said, ‘I went out to get some cigarettes. I forgot to lock the back door.’
I saw Nic give him a little shake of her head, but Campbell had already looked away from her and was focusing his attention on Eric.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked him, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
After a moment’s hesitation, Eric gave Campbell a disdainful look and said, ‘Yeah, why shouldn’t I be all right?’
Campbell blinked. ‘I was only asking…’
Eric stared at him.
I still didn’t understand anything.
I looked at Nic.
She shrugged.
Eric lit a cigarette and looked at me. ‘Did the police ask you about Raymond?’
‘Yeah.’
He nodded. ‘I reckon they think he did it.’
‘Did what?’
‘Killed Stella.’
I looked at him. ‘What makes you think she’s dead?’
He paused for a moment, taking a long drag on his cigarette. ‘Well,’ he said, blowing out a long stream of smoke, ‘they’ve found her clothes, haven’t they? They’ve found her blood on them…’
‘That doesn’t mean she’s dead.’
Campbell laughed then, a short snort of derision.
I looked at him.
‘What?’ he said, staring at me.
I shook my head, saying nothing.
He grinned at me. ‘What’s the matter – cat got your tongue?’
As he carried on staring at me, I saw him lick his lips, showing me his tongue, and I felt like saying to him – Yeah, all right, I’m not stupid. I got it the first time: tongue equals threat. And, no, I haven’t forgotten that you want me to leave either. But thanks for the reminder anyway, you fucking twat.
‘What are you smiling at?’ he said to me.
I looked at him for a second – his face, his eyes, his slightly crooked mouth – and then I just gave up and looked away. I didn’t want to do this any more. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to be here.
I sighed heavily and started to get up. ‘Yeah, well,’ I said to no one in particular. ‘I suppose I’d better get going…’
Eric glanced up at me and opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something, but then he flinched slightly – the kind of flinch that comes from a nudge beneath the table – and he closed his mouth and just nodded at me.
‘See you around, Boland,’ Campbell said.
I didn’t look at him.
‘I’ll see you out, Pete,’ said Nic, getting to her feet.
‘It’s all right…’ I started to say, but before I could finish telling her not to bother, she’d already left the table and was halfway across to the back door. There was something about the way she was walking that said – just keep your mouth shut and follow me.
So that’s what I did.
Nic didn’t say anything to me as I followed her out of the back door and along the path to the front of the house. She didn’t look at me either. She just walked on in hurried silence – along the path, through the back gate, across the yard, up to the front gate…
The afternoon sun was blazing down now, shimmering white in a dazzled blue sky, and the air was thick with too many smells: the neighbouring sweetness of freshly cut grass, the promise of rot and decay, hot metal, dry earth, burning plastic and cloth. And darkness too. I could smell darkness. A trail of darkness in the sunlight.
Nic had stopped at the front gate and was watching me thoughtfully as I walked up and stopped beside her.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked me.
I smiled at her. ‘Not really.’
She glanced back at the house, then quickly turned back to me. ‘Listen, Pete,’ she said quietly, ‘I can’t really talk right now, but I just wanted to let you know –’
‘What the hell’s going on, Nic?’ I said, cutting her off. ‘I mean, what’s Wes Campbell doing here, for Christ’s sake?’
‘He’s just a friend –’
‘Yeah?’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand –’
‘I don’t think I want to.’
She glared at me for a moment, clearly angry about something, but whatever it was, she wasn’t going to share it with me. ‘Look,’ she said slowly, trying to calm herself down, ‘if you don’t want to listen to me, that’s fine. You’re probably going to find out soon enough anyway –’
‘Find out what?’
‘It’s about Raymond –’
‘What about him?’
She glared at me again.
‘What?’ I said.
‘Just shut up for a second and listen to me, OK?’
‘I am listening.’
‘Yeah, well stop interrupting then.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Right,’ she sighed. ‘OK. Well, it’s probably nothing… I mean, it probably doesn’t mean all that much… and the thing is, I would have told you earlier, but I didn’t remember it until a few hours ago…’
‘Just tell me, Nic,’ I said quietly.
She nodded, lowering her eyes, as if she was slightly embarrassed. ‘OK, well… you know that guy I was with at the fair? The one from the waltzers?’
‘Yeah.’
‘His name’s Luke,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘And he’s a piece of shit. Not that it really matters, but… well, you know.’ She laughed sadly. ‘We all make mistakes.’
‘Right.’
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I was pretty wrecked even before I got to the fair… I think it was that shit we were smoking, you know, the stuff that Pauly brought. I think it did something weird to my head… I don’t know. Christ, I didn’t know what I was doing. I remember getting to the fair and meeting a couple of girls from school, and they were drinking and smoking too, and I suppose I must have joined in with them and got even more wrecked, because after that… I don’t know. I can hardly remember anything about Luke. Don’t remember meeting him, don’t remember what we did, or how we got to his trailer…’ She paused for a moment then, staring at the ground. ‘I think I remember something,’ she muttered distantly. ‘Something about… I don’t know. It was like we were fighting… or I was shouting at him or something.’ She was rubbing her bare arm now – rubbing it up and down, as if she was freezing cold.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked her.
She didn’t say anything, she just carried on rubbing her arm, staring at nothing.
‘Did he hurt you?’ I said gently.
‘What?’
‘This Luke… did he, you know… did he hurt you or anything?’
She shook her head. ‘No… no, I don’t think so. I think we just… we were both reall
y out of it, you know? I don’t even know if we did anything or not.’ She sighed heavily and looked up at me. ‘I just remember being in his bed, this horrible filthy bed… and I didn’t really know what was happening, or where I was, and my head was throbbing like hell… and then suddenly Luke was jumping out of bed and running to the window, shouting like a madman…’ Nic looked at me. ‘That’s when I saw Raymond.’
‘Where?’
‘He was at the window. That’s what Luke was going mad about. He’d seen Raymond watching us through the window.’
‘He was watching you?’
‘Yeah…’
‘Are you sure it was Raymond?’
She nodded. ‘I saw him, Pete. He was staring at me… I looked back at him. We were looking right at each other. It was definitely Raymond.’
‘Christ,’ I whispered.
‘I don’t think he was doing anything.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I’m not sure, but I just got the feeling that he wasn’t, you know… he wasn’t being pervy or anything. I mean, he wasn’t watching us in a creepy way. He was just watching us. Watching me, really.’
I looked at her, hearing the fortune-teller’s words again: You care for others without thinking of yourself.
‘Watching out for you,’ I mumbled to myself. ‘He was watching out for you…’
‘What?’ said Nic.
‘What time was this?’ I asked her.
‘God knows – one o’clock, two o’clock… maybe later.’
‘What did Raymond do when this Luke guy started shouting at him?’
‘Nothing at first. He just stayed where he was. Then Luke ran over and whacked the window with the palm of his hand… and Raymond just kind of disappeared. I don’t think he actually ran off then, because Luke was still shouting and screaming at him through the window. God knows what Raymond was doing…’
‘Probably just standing there looking at him,’ I said.
Nic smiled. ‘Yeah, probably… but then Luke suddenly turned from the window and ran over to the door.’ Her smile faded. ‘I was yelling at him now, trying to get him to calm down, but I don’t think he even heard me. He just yanked the door open and charged outside.’
‘What happened then?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know… I just heard him running and shouting, swearing his head off… and then after a while all the noise just kind of faded away into the distance. I don’t think he caught Raymond, though.’
‘Why not?’
‘When Luke came back, about ten minutes later, he was still swearing and cursing… saying stuff like – I’ll kill the little bastard if I ever find him, dirty little fucker, I’ll cut his fucking throat…’
‘Nice.’
Nic shrugged. ‘Yeah, well… I just thought you’d want to know, that’s all. And I’m sorry I didn’t remember it until now. But, like I said, I was in a bit of a state, you know…’
‘Yeah. Well, thanks anyway.’ I looked at her. ‘What did the police say when you told them?’
‘Not much… I think they’re probably going to talk to Luke, if they can find him.’
‘He’ll be with the fair, won’t he?’
‘Yeah, but most of them have moved on now. And I’m not sure if Luke was going with them or not. He only works at the fair for part of the year.’ She looked at me. ‘Listen, Pete, I didn’t mean –’
‘Did they show you the video?’
‘What?’
‘When you were at the police station – did they show you the film of Stella at the fair?’
‘Yeah, some of it. They wanted to know –’
‘Nic!’
She stopped suddenly at the sound of Eric’s voice, and we both looked up to see him gazing down at us from an upstairs window.
‘Come on, Nic,’ he called out to her. ‘We haven’t got all day.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ she called back. ‘I’m just coming.’ She turned back to me. ‘Sorry, Pete, I’d better go.’ She smiled at me then, a slightly sad-looking smile, and she reached out and touched me gently on the cheek. ‘You’re bleeding,’ she said.
‘Am I?’
‘Just a bit.’ She showed me a spot of blood on her fingertip.
‘Must have cut myself shaving,’ I muttered, rubbing at a sore spot on my chin where I guessed Campbell’s knife must have nicked me.
Nic grinned at me. ‘Shaving?’
‘Yeah…’
‘You shave?’
‘I’m not thirteen any more.’
‘No,’ she sighed, looking into my eyes. ‘I don’t suppose any of us are thirteen any more.’
Twenty-two
As I walked back home along Recreation Road, I couldn’t stop thinking about the phone in my pocket. Eric’s phone. I could feel it tap-tapping against my leg as I walked, almost as if it was calling out to me – I’m here, I’m here, I’m here in your pocket. But I didn’t need telling. I knew it was there. I also knew that it wasn’t calling out to me, because – unlike everything else I’d been experiencing – I knew it was real. It was there. In my pocket. It was simple, solid, undeniable. It wouldn’t lie to me. It wouldn’t confuse me. It wouldn’t threaten me or intoxicate me or fill my head with flies.
It was just a phone.
And it just might have some answers.
So I was desperate to start checking it out, and I could feel my fingers tingling as I walked, itching to answer the non-existent call of the phone, but I knew it was best to wait. I needed time to concentrate. And, in any case, Mum was probably waiting for me now. Waiting to ask me where I’d been and what I’d been doing and how I was feeling…
So I left the phone in my pocket and concentrated on hurrying home.
Mum was surprisingly quiet when I got back. She did ask me where I’d been and what I’d been doing and how I was feeling, but after I’d told her that I hadn’t really been anywhere, that I’d just been walking, and that I felt a lot better now, thanks very much, she pretty much left it at that.
We ate together in the kitchen.
We watched the news.
She asked me about the little cut on my face. I told her I must have scraped myself on something when I’d ducked under the crime-tape at the end of the street.
I asked her where Dad was, she told me he’d gone into work.
‘Is he coming back tonight?’ I said.
‘I think so. They’ve got him covering all the stuff that everyone else is too busy to deal with, but there’s not all that much he can do on his own. He’s just going through the motions really.’
She lit a cigarette.
I frowned at her.
She shrugged and looked out of the window. ‘Did you have any trouble getting past all the reporters out there?’
‘Not really. A couple of them called out to me as I ducked under the tape, but the police are still keeping them well back, so I couldn’t really hear what they said. I think one of them used my name though.’
‘You mean they recognized you?’
‘I suppose so.’
Mum shook her head. ‘This is all getting ridiculous.’
Eric’s phone was still calling out to me from my pocket as I went upstairs to my room after we’d eaten, and I was still desperate to turn it on. But I didn’t. I don’t know if I was just trying to savour the sensation of knowing it was there for a little while longer – in the same way that you leave the tastiest thing on your plate until last – or if it was simply that I didn’t want to know the truth.
I didn’t know.
And I didn’t want to think about it.
And besides, I told myself, you really need to take a shower. You stink of sweat. Your skin feels grubby. Your hair’s all matted and dirty, your head’s too hot…
I took a shower.
Changed into some clean clothes.
I went back into my room, shut the door, sat on the bed, and stared at Eric’s phone…
Then I put it back in my pocket and
switched on Sky News.
The first thing I saw was a really bad photograph of Raymond. It was taken from a school photograph, one of those panoramic photos they take of the whole year. You know the ones – where you all line up in rows, smallest at the front, tallest at the back, and you have to keep as still as possible, and there’s always some joker pulling a face or waggling their fingers behind someone’s head…
Rabbit ears…
Anyway, the news people had obviously got hold of one of these photos, and all they’d done was cut out Raymond’s face and enlarge it. So, for a start, it looked all blurry and grainy, which made him look like some kind of fugitive. And, secondly, he was wearing his second-hand school uniform, with his shirt buttoned up to his neck, but without a tie, which made him look kind of poor and desperate. But, worst of all, the camera had caught him just as he was looking to one side, smiling nervously at something, and that made him look like a deranged serial killer.
Which I guessed was probably the point.
Because although the news presenters were being careful not to explicitly link Raymond’s disappearance with Stella’s, there was something about the tone of their reporting, the way they kept emphasizing things, that made it pretty clear what they really thought. Raymond Daggett had been at the same fairground as Miss Ross. Raymond Daggett had once been a pupil at the same school as Miss Ross. And although the two teenagers weren’t known to be closely acquainted, and the police weren’t ruling out the possibility of a double abduction, reporters close to the investigation believed that such a likelihood was extremely unlikely…
And then they’d show a picture of Stella’s house – security gates, high walls, acres of rolling lawns – followed by a picture of some dingy little terraced houses (which weren’t even in St Leonard’s, let alone Hythe Street) just to show us the kind of hovel that Raymond came from… and then more pictures of Stella looking well-groomed and beautiful, and the same picture of Raymond looking deranged and desperate…
I watched it all for a while, my initial anger quickly fading to a sense of numbed resignation, and then I just gave up and turned the TV off. It was pointless watching it. Pointless and sickening. It didn’t tell me anything, it didn’t say anything, it didn’t do anything.
