by Bob Summer
‘I didn’t sleep with him.’ Thank God.
Gavin didn’t hear me, or if he did, he ignored me. But he saw the blush. ‘Aye, so you should. Joe is going to go mental. You were told to stay away from him. I take it you forgot you were doing the job for M Gee?’ He paced and shook his head, a grim sneer puckering his nostrils. ‘I’ve been so patient with you too.’ He put on a whiney voice, ‘I just don’t feel ready, Gav. Maybe next time. When I’m not so upset over my dad or Fran or the weather or any other flaming excuse!’
‘That’s what you’re so pissed about, isn’t it?’ I yelled back. ‘Your ego taking a knock.’ I lowered my voice to a shouty whisper. ‘You’re mad because I didn’t choose you.’
‘Are you suggesting I’m jealous? He’s an easty.’ Like that explained it all. ‘His sister is no longer your problem. He isn’t your problem. He is irrelevant.’ He spoke slowly like I was the idiot. ‘Jealous, mmf. Whatever he did to you last night I can do better.’
Oh my frilly days. ‘Gavin, shut up.’
He snorted. ‘Looks like Atty’s got one hell of a crush going on.’
‘Don’t talk soft.’
‘Sure?’
‘Nothing happened.’ I sat at the table with my head in my hands.
Gavin sat on the bed.
No noise from the bathroom.
Gav didn’t raise his head to look at me but spoke with a steely edge. ‘Joe’s told me to collect you and take you to a place where we can lie low until he calls for us. And that’s what I’m going to do.’
‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’
His eyes were so dark, almost black. ‘You have to, Atty. Joe’s orders.’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
‘You have to let the big guys take over.’
‘Still, no.’
He switched tactics. ‘You’ve nothing to prove. Or put right. Joe will let this go as a one-off cock up.’
I folded my arms.
‘And we can move on from this too. You and me. Whatever’s happened, whatever you’ve done, we can work through it. We’re the same, we get each other. We’re players. I understand why you did it.’ He waved a hand at the bed. ‘We’re practical. We do what we have to do to get by. No easty will ever understand that.’
‘No, I’m not like you. Not at all.’ I spoke louder than necessary, made sure Stuart earwigging in the bathroom, heard good and proper. ‘I never play anybody. And I don’t need some weedy, lying coward to babysit me.’ The lying bit I threw in for Stuart’s benefit, I hoped he’d heard. ‘Tell Joe I’m going to find Gemma and bring her back to Basley.’
Joe would go nuclear if he went home and said that.
Gavin gave up any sort of tactic and simply dug his heels in. ‘I’m not leaving without you.’
Stand off. I searched for my dad’s advice. Prioritise, Atty. First thing, get Gav out of there, away from Stuart. I stood and took fast, huge strides towards the door. ‘Like I said, I need some air.’
The receptionist looked down her nose at me as we made our way through the foyer. At the door I turned back, bumping into Gavin who’d stuck close to my heels. I put my hands flat on the desk. ‘I haven’t been here all night,’ I said, ‘I came back this morning because I’d left my favourite knickers behind. So don’t go totting up all those three hundred quids, because it won’t get paid, okay?’
She widened her eyes, stepped back out of spitting range and looked at Gavin over my shoulder.
‘No good looking at him, if I wanted to kick off he wouldn’t stop me.’ I spun round and looked Gavin in the eye. ‘He couldn’t.’ And I flounced out the door.
Gavin stayed close but said nothing. I didn’t know where we were or where to go but when I saw the tops of some trees I headed straight for them. Maybe when I die, in my sleep or otherwise, I’ll have twigs in my hair and dirt under my fingernails. But these buildings and people were crowding in and getting on my buds.
The park was massive and the air clean and fresh. I walked as fast as my knee allowed until my breathing evened out and then slowed to a less painful strut.
‘Feeling better?’ Gavin smirked. ‘What was that all about?’
‘Don’t take the piss out of me, Gavin. I’m not in the mood.’
‘You left your favourite knickers?’
‘It’s complicated. And you wouldn’t get it if I told you.’
‘Have you eaten? I’ll buy you breakfast.’ He nodded towards a food stall. Several tatty tables with rickety chairs were scattered across a patch of dirt under the trees. ‘A sausage sandwich?’
‘No.’
‘I’m really sorry I didn’t step up in the pub. Genuine.’
‘Okay, you’re sorry. Now go away.’
He kept pace with me, hands in his pockets. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’
‘No thanks.’
‘You’ll like it.’
‘Doubt it.’
‘I know where your dad is.’
‘Course you do.’
He pulled a leaflet out of his hip pocket. ‘I was going to wait for a nice romantic moment but it doesn’t look like that’s about to happen, so here.’
I glanced down. ‘A propaganda drop. Yippee.’
‘Open it.’
The leaflet had been folded four times, like a fan, to fit into Gavin’s tight jeans. The front cover read, ‘LONDON. Time to expand’
I tutted. I’d read similar headings a zillion times. All worded slightly differently but all meaning the same thing. Somebody somewhere was pushing for the starry-eyed notion of reuniting the UK, combining the counties, same Laws, same medical care, same education and so on.
‘Go on. Open it.’ Gavin said again.
So I did and what I read made my heart stop dead. I put my hand on my chest.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I don’t know.’ My heart thumped and raced to catch up. ‘Is this real?’
‘Yes.’
‘You haven’t doctored it?’
He looked hurt. ‘No. Why would I do that?’
‘Where did you get it?’
‘I found it.’
The picture, the face, with the second paper crease running across under his nose like a thin white tash, was of my dad. ‘Where? Where did you find it?’
‘There was a pile of them at a newsstand. Read it.’
Award winning International journalist tells us why London should share the wealth and health with the rest of the country.
‘He’s a journalist.’
Gav nodded. ‘An award winning journalist. He’s changed his name to Sal Greg. Lives in Europe somewhere.’
‘All this time.’
Gavin frowned. ‘You’re happy though, yeah?’
I didn’t know. Of course Dad being alive had to be a good thing. I’d thought he might be dead or locked up, but never did I think he’d just run off to be a journo. ‘He left me.’ I said. ‘Left me and went off to write stupid leaflets. Left me in West Basley with the cons and the paedos.’
‘He left you with Joe.’
I laughed, gobsmacked. ‘Are you serious? Joe is a lot of things but nurturing daddy he ain’t. I wouldn’t leave my cats with him let alone a kid.’
‘Hey. I thought you and him were tight. He’s always looked after you. He’s been good to me too, all of us.’
True, but I didn’t want to listen to reason. ‘Joe should at least have let me know that Dad was safe, don’t you think? He watched me cry at night.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t know.’
‘You never were the smartest, Gavin.’ I screwed the leaflet up and threw it at him. It bounced off his chest and he caught it. ‘Take it back and show him. Tell him I’ve seen it and there’s no need to look out for me any more. I’m going to go and find Gemma.’
‘You’re not thinking straight,’ said Gavin. ‘Why didn’t your dad tell you, eh? Maybe Joe wanted to tell you but couldn’t. Come home, let him explain himself at least. And forget about this Gemma kid. Let Joe handl
e it.’
And then a spark of the red flash shot behind my eyes. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ I said, ‘I should just forget about Stacey too. Remember her? The baby your mate Carl sold?’ Gavin floundered for something to say. ‘Stay away from me, Gavin.’
Gavin had seen that flash behind my eyes often enough to know when to keep his distance. It might scare him, but it scared me even more. The fury is real, heavy, like a brick in my chest, squashing my lungs and sticking in my throat. It makes me want to claw at my own flesh let alone any poor sap who gets in my way. I snatched the leaflet back out of Gavin’s hand and shoved it in my back pocket. ‘I’m going to find out who wrote this rubbish and kill the bricking lot of them.’
I walked back to the hotel, past madam Poshtits and into the lift. Gavin could take the stairs or wait outside, or drop dead. As if I gave a frack. But as soon as I opened the bedroom door I knew Stuart had gone. All my stuff, including the lotions he’d bought for me, lay in the bin. All he’d left behind was a small bundle of cash next to the fish tank.
Chapter 15
I found Stuart sitting at a table in a café opposite the train station and slid into the seat opposite. ‘Hi.’
His face told me nothing about what he might be thinking. ‘Hi.’
‘I wondered where you’d got to.’ I looked at the empty mug he held in both hands. ‘Can I get you another drink?’
‘Yeah, why not? Coffee, black.’
I fetched our drinks and two huge cheese rolls. Gavin hovered outside but he might as well have been squatting on the table between us.
‘Your friend is still with you.’
‘Ignore him,’ I said. ‘And he’s not my friend.’
We ate in silence. I wanted to tell him about my dad and the leaflet, but I worried it might look like I was seeking sympathy or trying to detract or delay the inevitable chat about Gavin and everything he’d said. I blushed. The café heaved with other customers. Some were the suited and booted officey type but an awful lot looked homeless and desperate. One guy, lemondrop-skinny, hovered at the doorway asking everybody who passed if they could spare a fiver. Occasionally a security guy happened by and moved him along. Within seconds he was back. I watched but nobody gave him anything.
‘I’ll get him a sandwich on the way out,’ Stuart said.
‘It’s your money he’s after, not food.’
‘It’s a waste of time giving him money.’
‘You think?’
‘He’d only buy more drugs and kill himself.’
‘Maybe if you had his life you’d want to spend it in an alternate world too.’
He gave a maybe or maybe not shrug. ‘Possibly. Lots of people might be better off dead but it doesn’t mean I feel comfortable helping them along.’ He looked at me. ‘Where would you draw the line, Atty?’
‘What line?’
‘The line where you give up on people and assume that it’s okay to give the likes of him the tools to kill themselves.’
I fidgeted. ‘None of us have the right to make that call.’
‘That’s right. So we get him a sandwich.’ He stood and went to the counter.
It was clearly time to meet the serious and assertive Stuart but, what I wanted - no, what I needed, as much as I hated to admit it, was a hug. There were a lot of layers to how I felt - betrayed, gullible, abandoned, but top of the list – lonely.
‘Coming?’ Stuart had returned to the table and was looking down at me. ‘Can’t sit here all day.’
Stuart didn’t simply hand over the sandwich he shook the guy’s hand and asked him how he felt, like he was trying to prove some sort of point – maybe that he wasn’t just an over-privileged nob-head. I pretended to fish something out of my pocket. If it was some type of good-citizen test, I didn’t want to take it. Guaranteed I’d cock it up.
There aren’t any trains running to or from Basley, haven’t been for years. The trains only run between major cities like Craffid to London or Birmingham. Consequently, there are few seats available and each one is subject to a bidding war. Sometimes even money isn’t enough and people have been known to spill their blood to get their family where they need to go.
The station was huge, an ancient warehouse-type building with a cavernous glass ceiling which grabbed sounds and whirled them around the roof space. The platform vibrated into a single mass of bodies, like a giant rolling maggot, and the noise grew and spread until it buzzed a continuous hum.
I stuck close to Stuart as he pushed his way through the crowd to the touts who stood on boxes along the back wall. He stopped when there were about six bodies between us and the action.
‘Aren’t you going to go up and ask?’ I spoke into his ear. Stuart looked behind, scanning the crowd. ‘If you’re looking for Gavin,’ I said, ‘he’s outside, watching the door.’
A man with a thin, tired looking wife told us he’d been waiting a week trying to secure a ticket. ‘Why don’t you walk?’ he asked us, ‘You’re both young and fit.’ He looked deflated, like all the hope had been wrung out of him years ago. ‘People have been known to die waiting for a seat they can afford.’
Stuart ignored him and turned to me, ‘Look, this is too obvious,’ he said, ‘We need to think of a plan B.’
More like plan F.
When we’d moved out of earshot I hooked my arm through Stuart’s, trying to force us back to that closeness we had in the hotel room. ‘It must be because they haven’t much money. But we’ve got loads, right? We’ll get something. Or why don’t we go back and get the bike? My arse can handle a bit of an ache.’
‘It’s probably been nicked by now. Anyway, can’t you think of a better idea than going backwards? You’re supposed to be the, what was it again? Oh yes, the experienced and practical one.’
He was likely right about the bike, but I could do without the stroppiness. ‘Listen to me. Gavin has weird ideas about reality, warped, we’re not even that close. Never have been. He’s different to me. Practical?’ I huffed. ‘That’s the longest word I’ve heard him say. He thinks he knows me, but he doesn’t.’
‘Is that so?’ he walked faster.
‘Ease up. My knee.’
He stopped, hands in his pockets, looking at the sky.
We were standing amidst a bunch of sweaty foreign students that stunk to hell and back, the noise was doing my head right in, and all the while I kept thinking, ‘Dad’s alive. Dad’s a journalist. Dad’s alive. Dad’s a journo.’ Round and round, over and over. And all Stuart’s sulkiness did was piss me off even further. ‘Yes.’ I spoke into his face. ‘That is most definitely so. Why would you believe him over me?’
He didn’t speak for ages and when he did it was so quiet I had to lean in to catch the tail end. ‘ … know, more than anything else is, did you tell him?’
‘Tell who what?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You know what I mean. Gavin. Did you tell him where we’re going, where Gemma is?’
‘No.’
He looked so angry.
‘No! Why would I do that? You heard what was said, he came looking for me to take me home.’ I scoffed for effect. ‘I wouldn’t tell him anything.’
‘Yeah I heard what you both said when you were in the room, but you took him outside. Though I suppose I should be grateful I didn’t have to listen to you having a good old mess about on the bed, huh?’
‘Mess about? Is that posh easty talk for a shag?’
A passing kid paused to smirk. I gave him the finger and he laughed before strolling away.
Stuart put a dead-end look on his face. ‘Such a lady.’
People nudged past, jostling us sideways and into each other. The skin on Stuart’s bare upper arm was hot but dry when it brushed my cheek. I rubbed his scent off me and scowled at anybody who happened to make eye contact. Very few.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘can we do this somewhere else?’
Stuart set off at an almost trot.
I tagged along as best I could. ‘Where are we going
now? Can you at least slow down?’
He headed back into the café, bypassing lemondrop-guy trying to flog his sandwich, and ordered more tea. The easty answer to everything. I stood alongside him trying not to wince with the pain of my poor knee.
‘I think you should go back with Gavin,’ he said without taking his eyes off the tea being poured out by a fat woman with damp, yellow patches at her pits. When she looked at me I held up my hand.
‘Not for me, ta.’
‘Gavin’s right,’ said Stuart. ‘It’s dangerous and if you go home at least the resistance might stop chasing me down. I’ve enough to worry about.’
‘The resistance isn’t chasing you, it’s only, well … it’s only Gavin.’
‘Sent by Joe.’
‘Joe’s been lying to me.’
‘What?’
‘He’s been lying to me. For years it would seem.’
He raised his hands to stop me saying any more, paid the woman with a note, waved away the change and carried his mug to the same table we were sat at not half hour earlier.
I sat opposite him, as before. ‘I thought you didn’t like going backwards.’
‘Eh?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I can’t think about your problem with Joe right now,’ he said. ‘In fact, I can’t get mixed up in your life, Atty. In case you haven’t noticed I’ve got enough hassle in my own life to unravel. Maybe when I’ve found Gemma and you’ve sorted out what and who you want …’
‘But I do know. I want to find Gemma and Stacey. Everything else can wait.’
He looked uncertain, wavering.
I kept up the nagging. ‘We can do this … we can get Gemma back, your mum need never know she’d gone anywhere.’
He put his head in his hands and groaned. His knees jigged under the table, heels tapping a rapid beat on the tiles. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘I do. If we want tickets we look for the greedy guy.’ I deliberately misunderstood him and the look on his face suggested he knew it.
