Rough Sleepers

by Nem Rowan

  I remembered this flyer; it was for the Pride celebration we had a couple of years back. Diana Princess was at my shoulder, her mouth open in a cry of glee. My teeth clenched together and the muscles in my forehead became tense as a lump formed in my throat, the horror of what I did to her replaying in my mind. All of them were gone. Every person in the photo was dead, except me.

  This flyer was a relic from a time long since gone. It was all I had left of my old life, and yet just to look at it was enough to cause unfathomable heartache.

  "Leon?" Ceri's voice answered beside me. I looked round to find him still kneeling, peering up at me over his shoulder.

  "I'm sorry, I can't stop it," I whimpered as I clutched the flyer to my chest. The tears started to pour from my eyes in streams and for the first time in a very long time, I was unable to stop myself from weeping.

  "What's wrong? Leon? What's wrong?" He got up and came towards me, his expression beseeching and worried.

  "They're all dead," I choked. The tears were dripping from my stubbled jaw, plopping on the front of my thick coat and planting themselves there like twinkling gems.

  "Who?" he questioned as he stood face-to-face with me, and I allowed him to take the flyer from my fist. He examined it, staring down at the people on the front, before looking up at me again. "Is that you by there?"

  I nodded, my mouth pressed into a tight line as I wiped at my dripping face with my sleeve.

  "I didn't even realise. You looked so different. Beautiful," he murmured as he looked down again. "I mean—I mean, you are beautiful, now. I mean, beautiful, in a different way."

  "Really?" I sniffed, unable to believe anyone could find me beautiful when my eyes were puffy, and my cheeks were red and glistening with tears.

  He nodded, and when he smiled, it was a fond one. His hand reached into his pocket, rummaging around until he found a pack of tissues, ripping it open and offering one to me.

  "Thanks," I mumbled as I used it to carefully dab at my eyes.

  "You do that like you're wearing makeup," he remarked with a cautious chuckle, and I laughed, too, which seemed to reassure him.

  "Yeah, I guess it's a habit I learned." I smiled finally.

  "You know what you said to me the other night?" he murmured, keeping his voice low even though it was unlikely that the others would be able to hear our conversation. "Those rules apply to you, too. You got that? I know I was a bit of an asshole before, when we first met. I didn't mean it. I don't like seeing you upset. If you want to talk, we can talk, okay?"

  "Okay," I agreed, glancing down as he pressed the flyer back into my hand.

  "Oh—and one more thing. Unfinished business from the other night," he whispered as he moved closer to me, and when he tilted his head to kiss me, I let him.

  "I've got all my—oh." Christine's voice answered from the hallway.

  Ceri and I jerked abruptly apart, both of us blushing and our eyes wide open, and I turned to find her standing in the doorway with her backpack on her shoulder. She had changed out of Mecky's pyjamas and was wearing some skinny jeans and a Superdry hoodie.

  "That's great, sweetie. Why don't you go downstairs and find Mecky? We're just picking some stuff up from here, is all," I suggested, aware that she could tell that I had been crying.

  She stared first at me, and then at Ceri who had turned his back and returned to the pile of paper, apparently excusing himself from the conversation. At first, she just looked surprised, but then a naughty smile turned up one corner of her mouth and she grinned at me.

  "Okay, I will." She nodded, still smirking as she turned and wandered off along the hallway.

  As soon as she was gone, I leaned against the wall and let out the deep breath I didn't realise I had been holding. My whole body was tingling, and I felt rather aroused. Fortunately, my coat was quite long and hid the crotch of my tracksuit bottoms. I wondered if Ceri and I had been alone, whether it would have rapidly spiralled into something much more physical. I startled suddenly when he appeared next to me, a wad of paper in his arms.

  "Are you all right?" he asked. His smile had changed; it looked different to before and I tried to pin down how.

  "I'm fine. Phew. What's that you've got?" I inquired, and he thumbed through the pile, pulling out a school photo that looked as if it had been taken in the early 1980s.

  "Look at this," he pointed to one of the schoolchildren who had a circle drawn around her in black marker pen. "Kelly Hayfield. I think she might be another victim. Plus, there's this."

  He balanced the pile on his arm as he shuffled a crumpled newspaper out of the wad and laid it flat on top.

  "Look yere. Darnel Williams, nineteen, from the St Paul's area, reported missing," he read from the small article. There was a photo of a youthful black boy, his head closely shaved and his face smiling as he posed for his picture at some sort of garden party. "Last seen on the city centre under council CCTV cameras, talking to a grey-haired man in a black wool coat. Police would like to speak to the man—that's him, look. That's Wallace Reed."

  I picked up the paper and squinted at the small print of a CCTV screenshot, but the image was blurry. I didn't doubt that it was him, though.

  "There's also some stuff yere relating to Scott Penderton, Christine, you, and Mecky. And another woman called Edith, but I haven't read through it properly yet. It seems as though Wallace is picking his victims carefully, but I still can't think how," he told me as I placed the newspaper back on the pile. He let me keep my flyer, though.

  "I guess we can take a better look when we get home," I commented.

  "Let's go find the other two." He nodded and shuffled past me to step into the hall.

  On the ground floor, Mecky had discovered a gym bag containing several towels and some women's exercise wear that definitely did not belong to Christine, but she said she had no idea who it belonged to. There was nothing else inside it to determine who the owner was, but it made Ceri very anxious. Christine was eager to leave, and I wasn't overly keen on staying much longer so we all climbed back into the car, grateful for the heaters on full blast.

  "Did he say anything about these other victims? Scott Penderton, Kelly Hayfield, Darnel Williams, or Edith Connors?" Ceri questioned Christine in the back seat while I sat in the front with Mecky. "Anything at all? Did you ever see any of them at the house?"

  "No, no, I didn't see anything. He never told me anything." She shook her head quickly, looking like a rabbit in a car's headlights.

  "Who was the person that escaped from the house? Did you see his face?" he persisted.

  "I—I don't know, I never saw him before," she replied as his intense stare began to make her sound more and more nervous.

  "Was it Darnel Williams?"

  "No, I don't know who Darnel Williams is. I don't know, I don't know." Christine began to sound frantic, her voice becoming shrill.

  "Ceri, leave the girl alone. If she says she doesn't know then she doesn't know." I turned round in my seat so that I could intervene before Christine got upset.

  He looked up at me, his eyes half-closed, and I could tell that I had annoyed him but he chose not to pursue it further. I smiled at Christine. She wouldn't look me in the eye, though, instead fiddling with a keyring on her backpack whilst staring down at her trainers in the footwell. I got the impression that Ceri thought she was up to something; he had been rather harsh with her since we had brought her back with us, something I found a bit odd, really.

  He had been a bit of a jerk towards me, but then I had been aggressive, too, so I could understand his reasoning behind it. Christine was timid and hesitant and had been through some tough circumstances. She could do without being interrogated by a belligerent old man. Still, he was the belligerent old man I had shared a kiss with earlier and I had no complaints. I turned to face the front window as Mecky cruised us at a moderate speed alongside the canal and I thought about what had happened between us in that room, the leaflet in my hand and the tears on my face, and Cer
i's mouth on mine. The thought of holding back now was a difficult one.

  Part Three

  Thirteen

  It was a relief to wake up after the final night of the full moon, knowing that all three of us had been locked up securely, without any fears that I had gone stalking through the alleys in search of homeless people asleep in doorways. Mecky was in good spirits and Christine helped her cook a huge breakfast for everyone, both of them singing to the radio while they cut bread and stirred scrambled eggs. Ceri sat to the table looking exhausted, a cigarette in his hands as he drifted in and out of consciousness. The poor bugger had stayed up all night examining the wad of documents he had found whilst simultaneously keeping an eye on us three, and the lack of sleep was really catching up with him.

  I told him to go back to bed; he didn't have to go anywhere today, but he was insistent on charging ahead with the research, and so as soon as he had finished his food, he declared that he was going out to the library to finally get himself a membership card. Of course, I was jubilant as I had proven him wrong, but he just blew me off and shuffled out to find his boots and coat. Mecky grinned at me across the table as she chewed a mouthful of fried mushrooms and I grinned back; she knew as well as I what he was like. Christine seemed relieved that he was gone, though. I encouraged her to try and get to know him, because he wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be, and avoiding him was only seeming to make him all the more suspicious of her.

  Mecky was adamant that we spent the day relaxing and having fun so she chose to keep the shop shut up instead of getting to work again, which was neither here nor there for me since I enjoyed working in the shop with her. Instead, she beckoned the two of us into the living room where we sat on the floor surrounded by catalogues and women's magazines, talking enthusiastically about fashion and other things Ceri wouldn't be interested in, like handsome celebrities and romantic comedies.

  "You are hearing this? This song I like it!" Mecky gasped, causing Christine and I to glance up from the heavy, hard cover catalogue we were examining. Christine had a marker pen in her hand and was circling the dresses she would like to wear, which turned out to be near enough all of them.

  "Oh yeah, everyone knows this song." I smiled when I turned my attention to the radio playing quietly in the background. Mecky had already leaped to her feet and the volume jumped loudly as she abruptly turned it up, filling the room with the symphonic voices of ABBA.

  "Come, come." She beckoned to me.

  "What...are you guys doing?" Christine was looking at us with hesitant bewilderment.

  "Dancing queen, dancing queen," Mecky said to her as if she was mad as she reached for my arms and captured me in her grasp, rocking me into a steady, groovy rhythm to the music.

  "This brings back memories." I sighed as I rested my stump under Mecky's arm, our other arms outstretched, and hands clasped together. She beamed up at me as we turned, humming and singing along to the song, her eyes glittering as she gazed into mine. She whooped as I lifted my arm and twirled her under it, both of us giggling together.

  "Old people," Christine remarked, but was unable to stop herself from smirking.

  "Come, you are dancing, too." Mecky stooped to reach for Christine when we shimmied closer to her, and the girl complained reluctantly until she had no choice but to join us.

  "Oh my god..." she grumbled, her cheeks becoming visibly red with embarrassment. Despite this, she was starting to match our shuffling dance movements, and perhaps because of Mecky's infectious humour, she was starting to smile, too.

  "This was my song when I was young," I commented, allowing Mecky to turn me round, our arms stretching out before we swung closer once more.

  "Back when they were riding chariots," Christine added with a grin.

  "Hey, cheeky! I think you'll find we rode dinosaurs, not chariots!" I pinched her cheek, but I didn't let it interrupt my rhythm. It had been so long since I had danced, and even longer since I had danced for pleasure, and I could feel both joy and sadness swelling in my heart.

  "My song, Holding Out For Hero with Bonnie Tyler, I am liking very much when I am younger." Mecky told us as she matched her dance moves with mine, both of us obviously from the same era since Christine appeared unable to follow what we were doing.

  As we were speaking, the song drew to a close and we all groaned disappointedly.

  "That was ABBA with Dancing Queen, and before that Spandeau Ballet with Gold. You're listening to Ultimate Classics, and we're only fifteen minutes into our request hour here this afternoon, so pick up your phone, dial the number and tell me what you want to hear..." the DJ spoke, and we all turned to look at the radio on the shelf.

  "Phone him up," Christine blurted suddenly, and we both looked at her alarmed. She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes wide as though she had suggested something awful. "Why don't you ring him? You can request Bonnie Tyler."

  "Do it," I agreed, looking round at Mecky.

  "Do it! Do it! Do it!" Christine started to chant, and I fell in with her, both of us chanting until Mecky started to smile again. She turned and stepped over the piles of magazines on the floor, heading for the phone in the corner as we followed behind her.

  The three of us became a tittering, hysterical mess as Mecky waited for someone to answer the call, huddled round her shoulders and trying to listen to the receiver. Finally there was a response, someone answered the call and Mecky told them the song she wanted, then we erupted into a fit of manic laughter. We were acting like a group of excitable school girls. I could only imagine what Ceri might think if he knew what we were up to. The radio was playing Michael Jackson and we fooled around, performing a rather disjointed and uncoordinated version of the Thriller dance until Meatloaf came on and we began to wonder if they were going to play our song after all. Mecky started to lose her enthusiasm, but then suddenly, after Meatloaf was over, the synth beat followed by the dramatic piano, the epic drums and choir of voices began, and we simply devolved into three shrieking banshees.

  Mecky did the most convincing, hair-shaking impression of Bonnie Tyler I had ever seen, using a marker pen as a microphone, and Christine was near enough rolling on the sofa laughing. By the time the song reached its bridge, we had wrapped headscarves round our heads and put on some sunglasses, Thelma & Louise style, Christine and I filling in the backing singers while Mecky nailed every lyric. When the song finally drew to a close, Mecky was hoarse, but not one of us had run out of energy and we began to boogie to Rock the Casbah, which seemed to be more of the kind of beat Christine was used to dancing to.

  Amazingly, nearly an hour passed with us prancing about and shaking our butts, but it was only when we noticed the dark shape standing in the living room doorway that we stopped, our heads turning to find Ceri waiting there. Flecks of snow had pitched in his hair and he looked cold and hungry. Still, his mouth had quirked into a somewhat bemused smile.

  "How long have you been stood there?" I questioned as Mecky went to turn the radio down. Christine was panting heavily beside me, her sunglasses askew.

  "I go out for two hours and come back to this?" he gestured to the paper all over the floor and then at the impromptu costumes we had donned.

  "Girls only party. You go out again." Mecky came towards him, taking him by the shoulder and gesturing that he was to leave the room. She started to laugh though, and we giggled when he rolled his eyes at her.

  "We were just having some fun. You can join in if you like," I offered, though I had a feeling I knew what the answer would be.

  "Nah, you're all right," he declined.

  "Spoilsport!" Christine called after him as he sneered at her and moved out into the hallway, Mecky herding him towards the kitchen where some food awaited him.

  Well, that was our party over, anyway. Christine and I collapsed on the sofa after picking up all the magazines we had kicked everywhere, and she sat there popping bubbles in her gum whilst flicking through the channels on the telly. I examined an article in one of the mag
azines I had selected, contemplating if laser hair removal was for me; the hair was getting out of control, so perhaps getting it lasered off instead of waxing would help. The wintry day had grown dark rapidly but neither of us moved to close the curtains and put the lights on, instead choosing to sit in the shadows with the glow from the TV screen flashing on our pale faces.

  I was starting to feel a little peckish, actually. I wondered when we planned to have dinner, and where had the other two got to? I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of the doorway, my eyes picking out the visible light coming from the open kitchen door, but my ears detected no sound at all. Half an hour had passed since Mecky had taken Ceri to the kitchen to fetch him something to eat, but they hadn't returned to the living room to join us. Frowning, I turned back to the magazine and sniffed the perfume-saturated advert in front of me, the strong scent causing a tickling sensation in my nostrils. Christine was oblivious, her thin legs stretched out so that the footrest could support them, and her mouth opened in amused laughter each time something funny was said in the film she was watching. She was still wearing the headscarf from earlier, but the sunglasses were missing.

  "Hey, Chrissy..." I whispered to her, distracting her from the TV. She looked up at me, her gaze giving off the ghostly glow of a predator's reflective eyes.

  "What's up?"

  "Any idea where the other two have gone?" I asked, getting the sneaking suspicion that something odd was going on, and I wasn't entirely sure why.

  "I dunno. Maybe Mecky's gone down into the shop?" she suggested with a shrug.

  "Hmm... Ceri's probably in the loft..." I agreed, relaxing back into the cushions. I didn't bring it up again, but my brain could focus on nothing else. Christine went back to watching the movie, and several minutes passed before I chucked the magazine aside and rose stiffly from the sofa.

  "Where are you going?" she inquired as I dusted myself off and turned towards her.