All These Perfect Strangers

by Aoife Clifford

  ‘You’re not really going?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘Didn’t you tell him to ask me out?’ I replied.

  ‘Oh that. Well, now I know you better, I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘Maybe you don’t know me that well, because I’m going,’ I said, starting to get annoyed. ‘He bought tickets to see a band at the bar.’

  Rachel snorted, dismissively. ‘The whole college is going to the bar tonight. That’s not a date, that’s a class outing.’

  I shrugged in an offhand kind of way but there was a bit of a ‘fuck you’ thrown in for good measure.

  Kesh, sensing danger, tried to change the subject. ‘Pen, have you used a gun?’

  I grabbed a handful of lipsticks and sat down on the floor, my back against the cupboard.

  ‘A country girl, course she has,’ said Rachel. Her voice was a pretend sweet sing-song but I could hear the malice. ‘But then you don’t seem to like the country much. Didn’t go home for the holidays like the rest of us.’

  I refused to answer her. Staying for term break had allowed me to catch up on my studies and write an essay. I had even tried to visit Marcus to find out if there was any paid work I could do during the holidays, but Carol told me he was away and the Sub-Dean was in charge. I didn’t bother asking him. If I was careful, I could eke out my money until next semester. After that I’d have to look for waitressing work.

  ‘I’m from the country and I haven’t,’ said Kesh, stepping over my legs. She began pegging out wispy bits of bright material, lacy bras, lace undies, all belonging to Rachel, along the clothes line that cut the room in two.

  ‘Hippy communes don’t count,’ said Rachel. ‘So, Pen, have you?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, beginning to draw lipstick lines on the back of my hand and rubbing them in.

  ‘When?’ Rachel pulled herself upright and, grabbing a pillow, placed it between her head and the lip of the window, positioning herself so she could see me clearly through a frame of a pink camisole and bright green French knickers.

  ‘One of my mum’s boyfriends was a gun nut and I’ve been rabbiting on a friend’s farm.’

  ‘Is that all?’ There was something insistent about the way she spoke that made me more wary.

  ‘Why are you asking?’

  ‘Nothing important,’ she said, and although her tone was casual, her eyes never left me. ‘Just, in the holidays I found this old newspaper article about a policeman who was shot with his own gun a few years ago by a teenage girl, and it got me wondering how many teenage girls know how to shoot guns, that’s all. I mean, pretty embarrassing to be shot by your own gun.’

  I stared down at the red on my hand. It was too much like blood, and I fumbled in my pocket for something to wipe it away.

  ‘Actually, I remember that case. The policeman died, didn’t he?’ asked Kesh.

  ‘They said if he had got help straight away, after the first shot, he might have lived,’ said Rachel.

  I wondered who ‘they’ were and how ‘they’ could have possibly known that.

  Kesh clicked her tongue. ‘The ambulance guy told me that could have happened to Alice if I hadn’t stopped the bleeding.’

  ‘There was this other girl who saw the whole thing but didn’t go for help. Instead, they both just let him die,’ Rachel said.

  ‘Awful,’ said Kesh. ‘How can people be like that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Rachel. ‘Maybe they had their reasons. I’d like to know what they were though.’

  She scrutinised me as if I was a specimen under observation and I felt pinned by her gaze.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to see the article, Pen? For some reason I thought of you when I read it.’

  For one moment, I couldn’t breathe. The word ‘why’ stuck in my throat, but Rachel guessed at my response.

  ‘Must be because you’re a law student. I’ve got it somewhere in my room, unless that dickhead’s taken it.’ She rolled onto her side. An elbow collided with the edge of the table, knocking the contents of the ashtray over the bed. Kesh stopped hanging out the washing, and began brushing the ash off, before it marked the cover. Rachel rubbed her elbow and looked crossly at her. I wanted to go over to her and shake the truth out of her. Ask her what she thought she was doing. But I didn’t trust myself and kept to where I was sitting.

  ‘What do you mean, someone’s taken it?’ I said.

  ‘Just the latest thing the Toad is doing.’

  There had been a brittle peace on our floor since Rachel had hit Joad, but it had the potential to fracture at any moment. Both of them had been reprimanded by the Sub-Dean and Rachel had been told that if she got in any more trouble she would be asked to leave, which she refused to take seriously. ‘They can’t get rid of me,’ she told us. ‘I know too much.’

  A series of minor but nasty incidents had occurred in the week since term had started. Taxis and pizzas, not ordered by Rachel, but in her name, had turned up at college. Her mail had been found in a reception bin by an apologetic Carol. And the latest, her wet underwear had been taken from a washing machine and trampled on the laundry floor, the same washing that Kesh had probably rewashed and was now pegging out in her room.

  ‘Joad comes into my room when I’m not there.’

  ‘How do you know?’ I asked.

  ‘He moves stuff around.’

  I had never spent much time in Rachel’s room. To be honest, neither did Rachel. She enjoyed commandeering other people’s rooms and public areas. Her own she used as a train station, from which she was always arriving or departing.

  ‘Remember Wednesday?’ she asked. ‘How it rained really hard in the afternoon. I came back from Language Lab and my window had been opened and my bed was sopping wet. Then two nights ago, I was fast asleep and suddenly, at three a.m., my alarm went off. Volume was up full bore. I just about had a heart attack.’

  ‘You should report him,’ said Kesh. ‘That’s really creepy.’

  Rachel rolled a cigarette, holding it in her nicotine-stained fingers for us all to admire, her fingernails bitten down low, exposing the deep pink-red underneath.

  ‘But how do you know it’s Joad?’ I asked.

  ‘How do you know that it isn’t?’ she snapped back. She lit the cigarette. The needling that was always part of Rachel was dialling itself into something more menacing. But we were rescued from our conversation by a man in the doorway, with a gun in his hand, or rather Toby, brandishing a water pistol.

  ‘What’s going on here? A meeting of the coven and I didn’t get an invite.’ He bounded into the room, all excited.

  ‘What’s with the firearm?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘I’m going to commit a murder and I’m going to enjoy it. Kesh, I’ve got to ledge out of your window to Joad’s room.’

  While every room was able to be securely locked and bolted by the door, it was easy to break in through the window, provided you didn’t have an issue with heights. All you had to do was crawl along the common window ledge that stretched the length of the building and sneak in through the window. It was forbidden to do so, of course, after a girl had fallen from the second floor of Page Tower and broken her leg the year before.

  ‘You’re killing him with a water pistol? That is so lame,’ said Rachel.

  ‘What do you want, a red-hot poker? I’ve been stalking that bastard all week but he is hardly ever alone. He’s usually hanging out with Stoner, but Stoner’s playing the pinnies. He’s not answering the door, but I know he is in there. I can hear music.’

  Kesh bit her lip. ‘It’s against the rules.’

  ‘Screw that,’ said Rachel. There were only a handful of people left in the Murder Game and she was sensing victory. That morning, she had been vocal about who she would invite to share the winning keg with her.

  ‘Why not wait outside the room till he comes out,’ Kesh suggested.

  ‘There’s someone in college trying to kill me, remember. I’ll be a sitting duck. And I found out that Joad was
the one who started the rumour that I had AIDS.’

  ‘Toby could go from my room,’ said Rachel. ‘But then it’s further, which would only make it more dangerous.’

  Defeated by the joint attack, Kesh said, ‘All right. But if anyone asks, you crawled from Rachel’s.’

  Toby stood on her bed and slid the window back. He carefully prised the fly screen off, handed it to Rachel and hoisted himself up onto the ledge. Turning back to face us, he saluted. ‘If I should fall and die, I leave all my CDs to Kesh. Rachel, you get my collection of used sex toys and Pen . . .’

  ‘The stereo,’ I said.

  ‘My best pair of sequin disco hotpants, in memory of the good times.’

  ‘Can I trade that for your stereo?’ I asked.

  ‘Philistine.’ Toby hoisted himself through the gap and climbed out onto the ledge. Pretending to overbalance, much to Kesh’s horror, he blew a goodbye kiss and started crawling, the water pistol stuck into the waist of his jeans.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Rachel. ‘I had no idea Joad was still in.’

  Kesh peered out of the window, her forehead creased. ‘He’s crawling . . . he’s there, I think . . . he’s stopped, grabbing his pistol . . . this ledge is so narrow.’ She leant out further, sticking her head through the window. ‘He’s looking in . . . no, hang on . . . he’s crawling back already. Thank goodness, that was quick.’

  She jumped down and Toby’s feet came into sight and then the rest of him, like a film on rewind. He reversed past the window, diving head first through it and lay laughing on the bed, his water pistol clutched in his hand.

  ‘Did you kill the fucker?’ asked Rachel.

  Toby was laughing so hard, it took a while before he could get out, ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’ Rachel shoved his feet off the bed, and sat down next to him.

  ‘He wasn’t alone. Shall we say, he had his hands full.’ Toby made a suggestive grab in the air and thrust his pelvis back and forth. He then put his hands to his cheeks and gave a silent scream.

  ‘Did he see you?’ I asked at the same time as Rachel said, ‘He was having sex? Who with?’

  ‘You will never guess in a million years.’

  Kesh began waving her arms. ‘Don’t tell us. It isn’t our business. I shouldn’t have let you.’ But no one paid her the slightest attention. She picked the fly screen off the desk and began hooking it back into place.

  ‘Tell me,’ Rachel demanded, pushing Toby. He squirted the water pistol in her face, and then dropped it beside them. He seemed torn between wanting to drag out the anticipation and blurting out the answer.

  ‘It was . . . Leiza.’

  ‘No,’ said Rachel, absolutely delighted, and I could see her eyes gleaming at all the possibilities this information could open up.

  ‘Scout’s honour. Dyb, dyb, dyb, or in this case, dob, dob, dob,’ said Toby.

  ‘But he hates her,’ said Rachel.

  ‘No he doesn’t,’ said Kesh. ‘He’s been helping organise her rally. You know, the one protesting the Screwdriver Man attacks and the lack of security on campus. Ever since Alice got hurt it has been all systems go. I saw Joad photocopying flyers the other day in the office.’

  Toby sat up, looking sceptical. ‘Joad, a closet feminist? Next you’ll be telling me you believe in Santa Claus, Kesh.’

  Rachel looked as if all her Christmases had come at once. ‘No one is going to believe this. Where’s your camera, Kesh?’

  ‘Michael mentioned something about Joad having a bet about Leiza,’ I said.

  Rachel chortled as she stood up on the bed. ‘It must be to have sex with her. This just gets better and better. I’ve got to see it for myself.’

  Kesh flared. ‘No one else is going out that window. If you do, I am going straight to the Sub-Dean.’ For once, she looked as if she’d stand up to Rachel, and after a moment’s hesitation, Rachel decided not to push it.

  ‘Fine.’ She slouched off the bed. ‘But you can’t stop me sitting outside his door until they surface. Then I can tell Leiza about the bet and watch the fireworks start. She might murder Joad for you, Toby.’

  ‘As long as it goes on my tally,’ said Toby. ‘Anyway, I’ve got better things to do than wait around for them. Residential assistants can’t be seen as condoning such behaviour.’ He walked out of the door, sniggering to himself.

  Rachel noticed that he had left his water pistol behind. ‘Hey, Tobs, wait up,’ she called and quickly followed him. There was a muffled exchange and then we heard Toby yell, ‘Bitch’ at her. Rachel came back, looking even more satisfied.

  ‘Joad is my next target ‘cause I just killed Toby with his own gun.’ She punched the air, and then turned to face me. ‘Just like what happened to that poor policeman.’

  · · ·

  True to her word, Rachel sat in front of Joad’s door and didn’t move the entire time I was in Kesh’s room getting my make-up done. I barely spoke to Kesh, who fussed around wondering aloud whether to use a glossy or matte lipstick. I sat there, silent, my mind churning.

  ‘All done. Don’t you look beautiful,’ she cooed. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a great time tonight.’

  Thanking Kesh, I left, only to find Rachel was sitting in the breakout area, right outside Joad’s door. She was fishing out noodles from a mug with a fork, a couple of beer bottles next to her. Michael came wandering up the corridor. He didn’t stop until he had reached his door, which was a couple up from my room. I could hear his key turning in the lock.

  ‘Why don’t you just knock on the door and get it over and done with,’ I said.

  ‘Why would I do that? The anticipation is the best bit,’ Rachel answered. ‘I love to keep people dangling on a line.’ She curled her feet up next to her. ‘Stay with me and we can have a chat. I’ll make it worth your while. Look, beer.’ She pulled a six-pack out from under her chair.

  ‘I thought your allowance hadn’t come through.’

  Rachel waved a hand dismissively. ‘This term I’ve got other income sources. But don’t change the subject. I always knew you were hiding something. Getting caught up in a murder case was a bit more serious than I expected, but maybe the newspaper article was inaccurate.’

  It was a shot straight across the bow.

  ‘How did you find out about it?’

  ‘Read your bursary application in Marcus’s office last term.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I was curious, that’s all. Saw that you were a witness in a case. It rang a bell. Did a bit of research in the holidays. But you weren’t just a witness. You started off being charged with it and you were found guilty of being an accessory, whatever that means. Sounds like I should wear you on my wrist.’ She rattled her bangles and smirked up at me.

  ‘Why are you doing this? I thought we were friends.’ I was trying to whisper as I didn’t want anyone to overhear, but mixed with anger at her betrayal it came out as a hiss.

  She put her head to one side, watching me closely. She was enjoying this. ‘Friends tell each other things, Pen. I just want to know the truth. Tell me what happened and I’ll give you back the article. Scout’s honour.’ She held up three fingers and smirked at me.

  ‘So you still have it?’

  ‘It will be in my room somewhere, I’m sure. I can find it for you now.’

  ‘I’ve got to meet Rogan.’

  Rachel’s two perfectly plucked eyebrows became slanting accents. ‘If you really wanted it, you would stay here with me.’

  Just then, Joad’s door opened and his ruffled head stuck out of it. When he saw us, he glowered, went back inside and quickly shut the door.

  ‘About time,’ said Rachel, suddenly distracted from me. ‘OK, not now. I’ll meet you over at the bar.’

  ‘Rachel, you’re not going to tell people, are you? You’re not going to tell Rogan?’

  She smiled. ‘Why would I do that? Remember, I was the one who told him to ask you out. But as it happens, there’s something I need to talk to Rogan a
bout anyway.’

  ‘What?’ This came out sharper than I meant it to, and Rachel laughed.

  ‘Guilty conscience, Pen?’

  She had me exactly where she wanted me, but I wasn’t going to be as easily caught as that. Rachel wasn’t the only one who could call the shots.

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Come to the bar. If you kill Joad, I’ll buy you a celebratory drink.’

  Rachel looked at me, surprised. ‘Sounds good. I’ll see you there.’

  Leaving her curled up in a chair, positioned squarely in front of Joad’s door, I made a detour back to my room before heading down the stairs.

  Chapter 10

  With a fluid movement, the guy on the door held my wrist, inked it and put it under the ultra-violet light to check. Even allowing for the lamp’s luminescent glow, his skin had the pallor of someone who didn’t often see the sun. Food obviously wasn’t a high priority either, as his combat boots looked like ballast for his scrawny body.

  ‘Mr Cohen,’ he said, noticing Rogan standing behind me. He shook Rogan’s hand and then, in a complicated twist, flipped it over to stamp. ‘Business or pleasure?’

  ‘Always a pleasure to see you, Pete.’ Rogan nodded his head at the two bouncers who stood either side of the table. Wearing Death Rider black motorcycle jackets with large red crosses emblazoned on them, they ignored him as if customer relations were not in their job description. Turning back to Pete, he said, ‘Should be a good gig.’

  ‘For you, maybe,’ Pete complained. ‘I’ve locked all the windows. Got extra security. We’re trying out a new ultra-violet ink and I still reckon we’ve got hundreds more people in here than what we’ve sold tickets for. I don’t know how the buggers do it.’

  ‘Students, what do you expect? You’ll make your money back on alcohol.’

  ‘You’re one to talk. We’re only licensed for just under two thousand people. If we get busted for overcrowding and are shut down, none of us will be happy then.’

  Rogan laughed. ‘You’re paranoid, mate. No one checks anything here.’

  ‘Am I now?’ Pete said. ‘Or is everyone out to get me?’ He grimaced before grabbing the wrist of the next person.