by Sibel Hodge
After we’d finished eating, Barker made me stay behind while the others cleared the plates and washed up.
‘You’re going to have a party tonight.’ He winked at me. ‘After dinner, you’ll be coming to my quarters. Your friends can come, too.’
Despite everything, a ray of happiness sparked inside. I desperately wanted to believe something good would finally happen to me. And I thought that if my friends were there, he wouldn’t touch me if everyone else was watching.
‘And there will be sweets and cakes and beer. What do you think of that?’
‘Thank you, sir.’
At school, I could barely contain my excitement. I was going to have a real birthday party again. Nothing could upset me that day. Not the pushes and taunts from the other kids in class who hated us Crossfield boys or the sarcastic remarks and rapped knuckles from one of the teachers who told me I’d never amount to anything.
I walked back to Crossfield at the end of the day with Billy, Sean, Trevor, and Dave, my excitement rubbing off on them as we wondered what kind of cake we’d have, what party games there would be. Only Dave didn’t join in the speculation.
‘Don’t get too excited. They’ll want something in return,’ Dave warned.
But I didn’t let his doubts affect me. I was trying to hold onto the happiness for as long as I could.
After dinner, Barker told me, Billy, Sean, Trevor, and Dave to go with him. We followed him in silence to his quarters, sneaking goofy looks at each other. All except Dave, who had a face like thunder. I thought he was just jealous that Barker had never thrown him a party.
When we got inside the lounge, there was a table laid with drinks and snacks. Cans of beer. Popcorn, crisps, chocolate biscuits.
‘Let me get you boys some drinks.’ Barker clapped his hands together and poured beer into plastic cups before handing them out. He sat on the sofa, crossed one leg over the other, and stretched his arm casually along the headrest.
We boys didn’t need to be asked twice. We drank quickly and munched on the snacks. More drinks were handed out. Barker put music on, and we danced around stupidly while he watched and smiled and laughed. He encouraged us to mess about, take off our tops, and show him our puny muscles. And we didn’t care how he was looking at us because we were having a good time. Everything was funnier, happier, lighter in our fucked-up world. For just a few moments, we grasped onto a sliver of enjoyment while we could, knowing there would be a price to pay in the end.
Then more men arrived. An older man with swept-back dark hair and a neat beard, dressed in a suit; a fat man with bulging eyes; a tall man with a side parting; and a short ferrety-looking man with round glasses. They watched us, encouraging us to muck about while they clapped and drank more alcohol. When one of them suggested we take off our trousers, it suddenly seemed hilarious, so we did.
They were talking about us, but I caught only snippets because I was having such a good time with my friends: ‘Pretty’, ‘Cute’, ‘They’ll be pleased’, ‘Party’, ‘Up for anything’.
Sean was giggling, with that constantly vacant, indifferent look he always wore now. Trevor spun around and around in circles, seeing how many times he could do it without falling over, finally collapsing in a fit of laughter on the floor. Dave poured himself more alcohol and gulped it down. The short man with glasses stood up and poured me yet another drink. A look passed between the men, as if it was a cue.
And then I was being led by the tall man into a small bedroom upstairs, and his hot, sour breath was in my ear as he told me to behave and I’d enjoy it and we were going to have fun.
MAYA
Chapter 13
My phone rang as I was driving. It was Ava, checking up on me. I pulled over in a lay-by and answered.
‘Where are you? Did you forget I was coming round? Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘Oh, damn. Sorry. I had some things to do.’
‘You haven’t been out for days—I was worried about you when you didn’t answer.’
‘I’m okay.’ Except I wasn’t. I couldn’t get Moses’s face out of my head. Couldn’t get Jamie’s out of my head, either.
‘Where are you?’
‘London.’
‘London?’ she shrieked. ‘What are you doing there?’
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to get rid of a tension headache building in my forehead. ‘I…I don’t really know.’
‘You’re acting weird.’
‘How am I supposed to act when my boyfriend’s dead?’ I snapped, instantly regretting it. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, it’s okay. I can’t even begin to think how I’d feel if Craig was gone. You have my permission to get angry. Are you sure you’re all right, though? Sorry, that’s a stupid question, isn’t it? When are you coming back?’
‘Soon.’ My gaze strayed to the list resting on the passenger seat.
‘Do you want to come round to mine instead? I’ll head back there now. We could get a takeaway. Have a bottle of wine. Talk, if you want.’
Suddenly, I wanted that more than anything. Something normal, comforting. ‘Yes. Thanks. I’ve just got one more stop. I’ll probably be there in a couple of hours.’
‘All right. See you then.’
I turned off my phone, put it in my bag, then followed the directions to the next London address on the list I’d programmed in.
It was getting dark by the time I pulled up outside 43 Scarborough Avenue. The house was right at the end of a dingy road, the windows boarded up with panels of wood behind grey metal shutters. High weeds grew in the front garden, and graffiti adorned the wooden front door that was peeling paint. I didn’t know whether the place was abandoned or if it was a squat.
I checked the address again. Yes, it was definitely Number 43.
Apprehension prickled at me as I got out of the car, warning bells clanging loudly.
The front door opened, and a woman in her late teens with long, messy purple hair came out. She wore a black flowing skirt and a tight white vest top, even though the air was chilly, showing off a tattoo winding up her right arm. She sat on the step, lit a roll-up cigarette, and took a deep puff.
‘Hi,’ I said as I approached.
She took another puff and blew smoke in my direction. Up close, I noticed her nose and lip were pierced. ‘Who are you?’ She looked me up and down.
‘I’m looking for Billy Pearce.’
She removed a blob of tobacco from her tongue and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. ‘What, are you a copper or something?’
‘No, no, nothing like that. I’m a…friend of a friend. I just wanted to ask Billy something.’
‘Nah, you don’t look like a copper.’ She looked me up and down. ‘You’ll have to speak to Neal about Billy.’
‘Neal?’
‘Neal Pearce. Billy’s brother.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll show you if you like.’ She turned her back on me and pushed the front door open.
I hesitated nervously on the doorstep, not knowing what I’d find inside. What the hell was I doing here?
She turned back to look at me. ‘You coming or what?’
I thought about going back to the car. Starting it up and driving away. But then I’d never know why Jamie had this address written down. I bit back my trepidation and followed her.
Inside the hallway it was dark, with candles and oil lamps dotted around, giving off an eerie glow. A smell of rotten rubbish, sewage, and body odour hit the back of my throat. We walked past a room on our right with no door on it. Sleeping bags lay on bare floorboards that were littered with cans and empty packets of food. Some of the sleeping bags were occupied by shapes. A white guy with dreadlocks was lying down, one arm resting behind his head, a joint in his other hand, and a can of cider on the floor next to him. His spaced-out red eyes followed us as we walked by.
She led me into a filthy kitchen at the back of the house. Most of the units had been removed, and the few that remained had no doors on them. A limes
cale-stained sink hung half off the wall in one corner, along with a plastic table that had probably started life white but was now ingrained with dirt and had cigarette burns all over it. At the table sat a scruffy guy with long, greasy hair pulled into a ponytail. His bushy beard and patchy sideburns made him look older than he was. He could’ve been anywhere from early thirties to late forties. He used a teaspoon to eat baked beans from a can, but he stopped eating when he saw me, his spoon stuck in his mouth.
‘She wants to see you, Neal,’ Pierced Girl said, leaning against the door frame, watching.
Neal licked the spoon slowly, weighing me up. He took it out of his mouth. ‘You’re not from the bloody council, are you?’
‘No.’
‘What do you want, then?’
‘I’m looking for Billy Pearce. Does he live here?’
His eyebrows raised a fraction, but he didn’t answer.
‘Do you know where I can find him? I just need to talk to him.’ I glanced at Pierced Girl. She inhaled on the roll-up and blew smoke at me, an intrigued look on her face.
‘What do you want with Billy?’ Neal asked gruffly.
‘I think he might’ve known my boyfriend, Jamie Taylor.’
Something flashed in his eyes briefly before it disappeared too quickly for me to register what it meant.
‘Jamie died recently, and I found a list with names and addresses. Billy’s name and this place were on it. I’m trying to find out what it means. If he spoke to Jamie recently. If he knew what was going on with Jamie before he—’
‘Get lost.’ Neal glared at Pierced Girl. She shrugged and disappeared. He opened a small tin box on the table, pulled out cigarette papers and tobacco, and began rolling, his eyes downward. ‘I’ve got no idea what the fuck you’re on about. Never heard of no Jamie Taylor.’
‘Well, maybe I can ask Billy?’
He licked the edge of the paper, smoothed it down, and lit the cigarette. ‘Billy don’t live here no more.’
‘I can show you a photo of Jamie if you like.’
‘I don’t need to see a photo. I told you, I’ve never heard of him.’
‘So he didn’t come here recently? To speak to Billy?’
He took a drag and blew some smoke rings in the air before answering. ‘No.’
I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, wondering what to ask next. I was pretty sure he was lying.
‘Is that it?’ He nodded down at his half-finished tin of beans. ‘Only you’re interrupting my dinner.’
‘Are you sure—’
‘Don’t you understand the word no?’ His dark eyes mocked me. ‘Shut the door on the way out. You don’t know who might come in.’ He laughed.
I gave him one last fleeting look, but he was swigging from a can of lager and ignored me.
I walked down the dark hallway, half expecting Neal to jump me from behind. My heart was in my throat by the time I got out of the front door and up the path. I’d just unlocked the car door when I heard Pierced Girl say, ‘Hey, wait up.’
I swung around.
She glanced behind her at the house before walking up the path. ‘That guy you mentioned. Jamie. He was here.’
The breath hitched in my throat. ‘Really? When?’
She licked her lips and put a hand on her hip. ‘I can tell you, but I want some money for it.’
‘How much?’
She scrunched up her nose, thinking. ‘Forty quid.’
‘How do I know you’re going to tell me anything if I give it to you?’
She shrugged again. ‘You don’t.’ She held her hand out.
I weighed that up for a moment. I didn’t trust her, but I didn’t think I had much choice. ‘If Jamie came here, then you’ll be able to describe him, won’t you?’
She shrugged. ‘Tall, green eyes, sort of blondish-sandy hair.’
That sounded like Jamie. ‘Twenty,’ I said.
‘Thirty.’
‘Okay.’ I got thirty pounds out of my purse and handed it over.
She stuffed it down the centre of her bra.
‘When did Jamie come here?’
‘Dunno exactly—it was about ten days ago. He spoke to Neal. He was looking for Billy, too.’
‘Did Jamie say why he was looking for Billy?’
‘Nope.’
‘Did he mention someone called Moses?’
‘No.’
‘What did Jamie say, then?’
‘He just asked Neal where he could find Billy.’
I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t, so I asked, ‘And what did Neal say?’
‘He told him Billy was dead. He killed himself.’
A chill settled over me that had nothing to do with the wind. ‘How did he kill himself?’
‘He jumped in front of a train. It happened about a year ago, not long after Billy got here. He managed to trace Neal after he got out of prison and bunked here for a while.’
‘What do you mean “trace Neal”? If they were brothers, didn’t they know where each other was?’
‘Well, Billy and Neal were in different children’s homes when they were kids, so I don’t think they were that close. And Billy was in and out of prison all the time so…’ She shrugged casually, as if that was all normal.
‘Right.’ I tried to process all that. ‘Was Billy ever in the army?’
‘No.’ She snorted.
‘How old was he?’
Another shrug. ‘About forty.’
So that meant Moses, Billy, and Jamie would all have been the same age if they were still alive. Was that relevant somehow? Had they all been school friends?
‘Oh, yeah, I just remembered your man said something about a house.’
‘A house? What house? Where?’
‘Dunno.’ She played with the hooped ring in her lip, twisting it round and round for a moment. ‘But he called it the Big House. They had an argument. Neal told him to fuck off and not to come back. Never saw your man again.’ She turned on her heels and went back inside. Conversation over.
A memory ignited in my brain. Jamie had been having nightmares for a few weeks before he died. He’d been thrashing around in bed, sweating, talking in his sleep, and repeating the same things over and over. I’d wake him up, hold him, comfort him, until his panting returned to normal and he fell asleep again with us wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.
When I’d asked him about it, he said he couldn’t remember what the dreams were about. Said it must be something to do with being stressed about work projects.
But I remembered clearly the words he screamed out in the dead of night:
Don’t take me to the Big House!
JAMIE
Chapter 14
I didn’t realise it then, but that was some kind of scouting party. A few weeks later, on a Friday night, Barker drove us to somewhere in London in his car. Sean sat in the front, staring out the window, mesmerised by all the real life going on around us. Billy, Trevor, Dave, and I sat in the back, watching the world speed past. An outing should have been a huge adventure in our sad lives, but I now knew exactly what Barker’s ‘special treatment’ entailed, and I could taste the fear like poison in my mouth.
We pulled up outside a big house with an intercom and camera system on the front gate, and we all suddenly fell silent, staring up at what looked to us like an opulent palace. Barker spoke into the intercom, saying he had a delivery for the party, and a male voice on the other end laughed. Then the gates swung open, Barker stopped the car on a large driveway, and we got out.
‘Come along, boys.’ He ushered us up the front steps with ornate white pillars on either side, and the door opened.
We were pushed into a large hallway, and then Barker was gone. Standing in front of us was the fat man from Barker’s party, with a glass of whisky in his hand and that look on his face I could now read so well.
‘This is a fancy dress party.’ The Fat Man chuckled. ‘Come with me, and we’ll get your costumes sorted out.�
�� He led us along the corridor into a room with huge sofas and a desk and paintings along the whole of one wall. On the desk were bottles of alcohol—whisky, vodka, gin—and cans of beer. On top of one sofa were piles of costumes.
‘When I come back, I want to see you all in your costumes.’ He said it with a grin on his face, but it wasn’t a request, it was an order. ‘Help yourself to drinks while you get changed. I’ll be back in a little while.’ The Fat Man shut the heavy wooden door and locked it with a turn of the key.
Dave headed straight for the drinks. He opened a bottle of vodka and swigged it straight out of the bottle before coughing and spluttering and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Blimey, what’s this?’ I picked up a costume. The glittery white ballerina outfit had a tight top and flared tutu. A glittery tiara went with it.
‘I’m not wearing that!’ Trevor gawped at it, rummaging through the other clothes, pulling out a pair of very short leather shorts with some kind of leather braces.
Sean sat on the floor with a leopard print loincloth, rubbing the soft, shiny material over his face.
‘Here.’ Dave handed us some drinks, his eyes haunted with fear. ‘We’re going to need some more of this.’
We knocked back the drinks and pulled faces as the hard alcohol burned our throats.
‘Someone’s going to have to wear the girly thing. There are only five costumes here,’ Dave said.
‘I’m not,’ Trevor said through a mouthful of drink, which sprayed all over Sean, who didn’t seem to notice. Sean didn’t seem to notice much since his head injury.
‘Me, neither.’ I picked up a different costume, which was also a girl’s one—a tight pink dress with lacy wings stitched on the back and a flared, raggedy skirt.
‘Ha ha! You’ve got a fairy costume.’ Dave punched my shoulder playfully.
I glanced around at the others, unable to decide which was really worse. Sean had the loincloth on his head and was stuffing crisps into his mouth between gulps of gin and lemonade. I heard music and deep male laughter booming from somewhere outside the door.
