Kiss and Tell

by Leo McNeir

  “I’m bloody sick of you,” he said thickly to Anne.

  “Why are you b-bloody sick of me? I haven’t done anything to you, or anybody.”

  “Messing Avril about, that’s why. Tell me, why do you want to see her?”

  “We want to ask her about that MP, Anthony Leyton-Brown.”

  “You’re a friend of his, are you? I might’ve known it.”

  “No!” Anne protested. “I just want to find out why he was set up and who by.”

  “What’s it to do with you?”

  “He knows someone we know – a friend – and he came to us for help. Then his wife killed herself and we figured Avril could help us find out what was going on, and maybe do something about it.”

  “Do something? Like what?”

  “I’m not sure. It depends on what she can tell us. That’s all it is.”

  The man stared without blinking. Anne did not like the idea that he was taking decisions about her.

  “Look,” she said. “Do I look like some kind of informer or whatever you think I am? I’m seventeen years old. My friend Marnie wants to talk to Avril. You met her, Fran. You could tell Marnie’s a good person just by looking at her. She’d never do anything to hurt Avril, or anyone else.”

  “What is she wanting to do, then?” said Fran.

  “Get at the truth and expose the newspaper editor.”

  “By getting at Avril,” said the man at the wheel.

  “No. She could just make a statement or something.”

  “And land herself in trouble? You must be joking!”

  “Not at all,” said Anne. “We don’t think she’s committed any crime. It’s not her fault she was used like that. But she could help put it right.”

  Fran said, “Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?”

  Anne shrugged. She looked unhappy. “We just somehow got dragged into it. I wish we hadn’t. It’s taken over our whole lives.”

  The driver said, ”Listen to me. If you’re telling the truth, fine. If you’re not, darlin’ ... I’m your worst nightmare.”

  *

  Marnie ordered another cappuccino and found a seat by the window, her mind racing with possibilities. She had checked the loos and found them empty. She could see that Anne was not in the newsagent’s. There was no way Anne could get into the flat. This was the nightmare scenario.

  How could they get Anne away without anybody noticing? Anne would not just let herself be abducted. She was not a fool. But she was young and inexperienced. Oh God ... Marnie did not dare let herself think about Anne’s parents and what she might have to tell them. They had allowed their daughter – a minor – to go and live with Marnie to learn about interior design. Tackling the underworld and going off on crazy missions had definitely not been part of the deal.

  Marnie forced herself to think logically. The text message about the parking space. Who could have sent it? The porter in the lodge? Not Simon. He would just have phoned. Marnie had to talk to him urgently. She hit the buttons on the mobile. Two rings. A woman’s voice: Welcome to the Network answerphone service. To leave a message, please speak after the tone ... beep.

  “Simon, it’s Marnie. Please call me on my mobile as soon as possible. It’s urgent.”

  She knew he would know nothing about the message or the car park. It had been a trick. The options were closing down. Maybe it was time to call the police. She decided on one last shot. At the counter Asterios looked up at her apprehensively. No smile this time.

  “I’m going out to look for my friend, but I’ll be back soon. If she comes in, you know what she looks like: thin with short blond –”

  “Sure. I know.”

  “Okay. Would you let her use your phone to ring me on the mobile? Here’s a pound to cover the call.”

  “No. It’s okay.” He pushed the coin back. Marnie left it.

  “I insist. Please. Will you let her use your phone? I’m worried about her.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thank you. She should wait here till I return.”

  “That’s fine.”

  For the second time that morning Marnie left a full cup of cappuccino going cold and went out into the rain.

  *

  They drove without speaking over Tower Bridge and up through the City of London away from the river, passing sky-scrapers that gradually gave way to avenues of offices, then parades of shops with residential side streets and deserted parks looking miserable and abandoned in the rain. The grim driver made a succession of turns among terraces of houses that estate agents would have described as having ‘scope for modernisation’.

  They drew to a halt outside a two-storey house as the rain eased off for the first time that day. The driver took her firmly by the arm and ushered her into the house, leading her through to a back kitchen and sat her on a wooden chair by the table.

  Anne took it as a good sign that no attempt had been made to prevent her from seeing where they were going, but she did not know London well enough to guess the district, and had not had the presence of mind to try to read signs or street names.

  “Where is this?” she asked Fran.

  “Never you mind,” said the driver.

  *

  The porter was involved in a complicated discussion with a woman with a strong French accent and limited English. At any other time Marnie would have joined in to help, but that day she was close to panic and needed all her reserves of mental energy to keep focused. She walked up and down in the lodge until the woman finished her conversation and went out.

  Marnie approached the porter’s desk. “Could you tell me if you’ve sent me a text message this morning?”

  The porter looked blank. “Sorry, madam?”

  “Have you sent me a message ... on my mobile, a text message about the underground car park? You wanted me to vacate a parking space.”

  “No, madam.”

  “Has anyone told you they needed their space back? Mr Walker?”

  “Mr Walker is out.” He glanced over his shoulder at the pigeonholes. “His mail hasn’t been collected this morning.”

  Marnie clenched her fists in front of her, resting them on the counter. “His space is two-o-eight, level minus two. Ring any bells?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  She felt like screaming.

  *

  They left Anne alone in the kitchen. She got up and peered out of the window in the back door. There was a yard, cracked concrete, a few flower pots with dead twigs and a grimy yellow bucket filled with rain water. She knew she ought to be frightened and part of her was, but she was more worried about Marnie. They had tricked her into going away with them, and Marnie would be frantic. No. Marnie would be trying to work out all the possibilities. She would guess who had abducted her, but not how or where.

  At that moment no-one in the world knew where she was, except her abductors. How long would it be before Marnie contacted the police? Or her parents? O God! Her family would be distraught. They might be so upset they would want her back home, living with them, instead of working at Glebe Farm with Marnie. Always assuming that she actually got back. She told herself to keep calm, try to think what Marnie would do in this situation.

  Should she try to escape? At the end of the yard was a brick wall. If she was desperate enough, she could climb over it. Part of her was desperate enough. But then what? She would be in another back yard like this one, enclosed on all sides by walls and buildings. She would have to go through every yard in the street to get out, by which time she would be exhausted. Meanwhile the gang – she had begun thinking of them as a gang when she was in the car – would be waiting for her at the end of the street and would just catch her as she scrambled over the wall and bring her back to this kitchen. Square one. But with one important difference: they would be feeling angry with her for escaping. They might have imaginative ways of showing their displeasure.

  Anne cocked her head on one side and listened. She could hear nothing, but sensed
that the house was not empty. Out of curiosity she put her hand on the knob of the back door and turned it. Locked. Of course. No key visible. End of tentative plan. Unless she wanted to break the glass and climb out. That would make it easier to track her down. The gang would just follow the trail of blood from the multiple lacerations. Great.

  And did she really want to escape? Apart from the risk of bleeding to death in a back yard somewhere in north London, Anne was where she wanted to be, possibly. She was near Marlene-Avril, or so she hoped. For a second or two she wondered what her worst nightmare might be, but quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. This was the moment of truth, the meeting they had been planning for so long, and it was almost incredible that she had been able to come this far. If Marnie was in her place she would keep a cool head and see it through. That was what she must do.

  The handle on the kitchen door turned slowly, and Anne felt her cheeks tingling, a cold flush sweeping over her. The door eased open and a face appeared. A girl. Anne suddenly had the impression that they were in a competition to see which of them was more frightened. She also knew who the girl was.

  “You’re ...” she began.

  The girl came in and shut the door behind her. Immediately there were rapid footsteps outside and the door burst open. Fran pushed her way into the room.

  “You said you were –”

  “It’s all right, Fran. I’m here now. Don’t worry. I just wanted to see her.”

  “You don’t know her, do you?” said Fran.

  “No. But she doesn’t look dangerous to me.” To Anne she said, “Who are you?”

  “I’m who I told Fran I am. My name’s Anne Price.”

  She held out her hand without thinking. For both of them it was an unexpected gesture. The girl looked at it and then shook it.

  “What do I call you?” said Anne.

  “Avril, they call me, but I prefer Marlene.”

  “Marlene, then.” She attempted a smile. “It’s good to meet you.”

  *

  Marnie rang Ralph as she walked back to the café. A woman’s voice came on the line, calm and beautifully modulated.

  The mobile phone you are ringing is currently switched off. Please try again later.

  Ralph! Marnie was exasperated. Doesn’t he realise how important it is to keep the lines open at a time like this? She forced herself to keep cool. She only wanted to talk to him because he would be a rational influence, a friendly voice to commiserate. No point getting angry.

  The mobile rang a minute later. “It’s Ralph.”

  “Where are you? I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “I’m in the office, holding the fort. Remember? I’m obeying orders.”

  “Your mobile’s switched off.” She did not mean it to sound like an accusation.

  “It’s on charge. But I don’t need it. I’m sitting next to the office phone. Everything okay?”

  “No. It’s not okay at all. Anne’s gone missing.” Silence at the other end of the line. “I know what you’re going to say.”

  “No you don’t. You can’t. I don’t know myself, yet.”

  “I left her in the café while we waited for Avril. I had a message to move the car. It was a trick. When I got back she’d gone.”

  “When was this?”

  “Nearly two hours ago. You’re going to say I should’ve reported her missing to the police.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “No?”

  “Marnie, I doubt the police would count two hours as missing.”

  “No. I think that’s why I’ve been holding back. But I’m really getting worried now. What do you think I should do?”

  “Sit tight for a little longer. Are you in the café?”

  “On my way.”

  “I can’t believe anyone would want to harm Anne,” said Ralph. “They couldn’t regard her as a threat.”

  “They could regard her as a hostage,” said Marnie.

  “Not really likely, I’d have thought. What would be the point?”

  “What else?”

  “Marnie, all you can do is hang on and wait to be contacted. Give it a bit longer. I don’t think you’ve got any choice.”

  Where have I heard that before? Marnie thought, when she hung up.

  *

  Marlene made Anne a cheese sandwich, and she realised she was hungry. They sat and ate together, the two of them alone in the kitchen, while Marlene told her story. It was all familiar, almost identical to the version that Anthony had told them. Anne watched Marlene closely and was convinced she was telling the truth. When Marlene came to the end, she shrugged and bit into her sandwich at the point when Anthony was photographed with her in his garden and she had run off to a waiting car.

  “So are you living with your boyfriend, then?” said Anne.

  “No. That creep. I never want to see him again after what he made me do.”

  “He’s not living here?”

  “No. He’s miles away. He’s no idea where I am. None of them know.”

  “None of who?”

  “All that lot ... from the newspaper. I hate them ... and him. They used me.”

  Anne was confused. “What are you doing here, then?”

  “I got away from my so-called boyfriend but I had nowhere to go, just wandering the streets in a daze, no clothes, no money, nothing. Then I ran into Cheryl. She thought I was trying to work her pitch.”

  “On the game?”

  “No, begging.”

  “Beggars have a pitch?” Anne felt naive in asking.

  “They’re organised, well, sort of.”

  “And this is their base?”

  “It’s Mick’s house. He drove you here. Cheryl rents it.”

  “And they’re beggars?”

  “Keep your voice down!” Marlene muttered softly. “They’re a mixed bunch. Fran’s on the game. Cheryl’s got a pitch in Docklands by Tower Bridge.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “They don’t reckon she’d earn enough to survive if she went on the game.”

  They smiled together. For a moment it was almost like girl talk.

  “What about Mick?”

  Marlene reached across the table and grabbed Anne by the hand, shaking her head. “He’s into all sorts ...”

  It was a crazy thought and it made Anne want to laugh, the idea that a tough character like Mick might be running a liquorice racket. Taking Anne’s expression for levity, Marlene frowned at her.

  She whispered, “Seriously, Mick’s into drugs and stuff like that. It’s not a joke.”

  “And you’re involved in all this, with Mick?”

  “No. God, no. It’s Cheryl lets me stay here. Mick’s with Fran and the others.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “Nothing. I don’t even go out most of the time.”

  “Is the Globe looking for you?”

  “I dunno. I hope they think I’m history. But I can’t go home. They’d find me if I did.”

  “You can’t stay here all your life.”

  “I haven’t got a life.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “This is where I am for now. I just get by from one day to the next.”

  Somewhere in the house a phone rang. It stopped. Seconds later they heard footsteps on the stairs. The door opened and Mick pushed his way in. Behind him, Anne could see Fran loitering in the narrow hallway. Without a word Mick walked up to Anne, seized her by the shoulders and slammed her backwards against the wall. She could feel a nightmare scenario coming on, Mick’s breath in her face, his hand on her throat.

  “Did you bring the filth here?” he growled, showing his teeth like an angry dog.

  It was all Anne could do to speak in a hoarse whisper. “You brought me here.” She sensed that she had not answered the question. “I don’t even know where here is.”

  Mick looked into her eyes at point blank range, and Anne braced herself for violence, scarcely breathing.

  “Mick!” Fran’s voice from
the hall.

  His gripped tightened round Anne’s throat, and she was willing herself to have the courage to bring her knee up sharply into his groin as a last resort, when he released her and rushed out of the room. The front door opened and slammed shut. Alone in the quiet house, the two girls stared at each other, wide-eyed, Anne breathing heavily, rubbing her neck. Faintly came the sound of a car engine starting and a screech of tyres.

  “What was that about the filth?” said Anne.

  “Mick’s paranoid, always thinking the police have got him under surveillance. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “You didn’t lead anyone here, did you?”

  Anne shook her head. “Course not. No-one knows I’m here, not the police or anyone else. Where are we actually?”

  “Stoke Newington, Hackney.”

  “Marlene, we’ve got to get away from here.”

  “We?”

  “This isn’t a safe place. God knows what might happen to you if you stay much longer. Come with me. We’ll take care of you.”

  “Why should you?”

  “That’s not the right question. You ought to be asking what’ve you got to lose. The answer is zilch. Get your things and we’ll go, and be quick about it. Mick left in a hurry. He must’ve had a reason. Come on!”

  Marlene hesitated. “I don’t know ...”

  “Oh, Marlene.” Anne sounded weary. “Don’t think about it, just get going. You fetch your things, I’ll check if the coast is clear. Please!”

  They walked out into the passage, Marlene taking the stairs, Anne going to the front door. She put her head out. There was a short approach to the house, three paces to a low coping wall and the pavement. No-one in sight, she walked out and looked along the quiet street. She turned to go back into the house to find herself confronted by three men, two of them in police uniform.

  The third was a tough-looking man in a suit. He stared at Anne for some seconds, his expression changing from belligerence to bewilderment to recognition.

  “Well, well, well,” he said slowly. “Now here’s a face we’ve seen before.”