The Disappeared

by Ali Harper

  Could I leave him there? If he fell in he had no chance. The water battered the tunnel walls, smashing anything that got in its way. I thought of Jo, of what they might be doing to her while I stood wondering whether to save a man who wished me harm. I took a step towards him, then another.

  ‘Leave him,’ Brownie yelled from the top of the metal staircase.

  ‘You think he’ll make it?’

  ‘Not our problem,’ Brownie said.

  I glanced back at the man. He’d managed to get his right knee up on the ledge and was hauling the rest of his body up. I turned and ran, threw myself at the metal stairs as Brownie reached an arm down and yanked me up.

  Together, we legged it to the station entrance. Sweat beaded on Brownie’s forehead as we ran, and I knew exercise wasn’t part of his daily routine. My lungs were bursting by the time we reached the departure boards, and I swore I’d give up smoking if we got out of this alive. I scanned the information in front of us. There weren’t that many trains at this time of night, only the sleepers going up to Stirling and down to London, so it didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. The Manchester airport train. On time. I checked the clock on the board. Three minutes.

  I raced Brownie across the station towards the entrance to the platforms.

  ‘We’re getting a ticket on the train,’ I yelled to the disinterested guard, who was reading his paper in the booth.

  We pegged it across the station forecourt and I dragged Brownie up the stairs. The Manchester train always went from the far end. My legs burned as I yanked us onwards over the bridge. As we crossed the tracks I saw our train at the platform.

  ‘Faster,’ I shouted to Brownie.

  ‘Leave me,’ he said, his legs crumbling under him.

  ‘No fucking chance.’

  The guard stood by the train, whistle in mouth as we fell down the stairs. ‘We want that one,’ I yelled, somewhat unnecessarily. He nodded, held up a hand and we threw ourselves through the open door and into a carriage. A second later the doors closed, and the train’s engines fired up.

  I pushed Brownie into a seat. ‘Keep your head down.’

  The train rolled off a moment later. I sat down and kept my eyes fixed on the window. As we pulled out west of the station, I saw a figure burst through the entrance gates, running as fast as we had. The train lurched forward, gathering speed. I peered as hard as I could through the window, but it was no good. He was too far away. His hooded top was grey, and he wore boots the colour of sand. I saw him yell something, but the train gained momentum and I knew enough to know it wouldn’t stop now.

  I got up and flopped into the seat next to Brownie. ‘It’s OK. We made it,’ I said. I checked the time. I felt Brownie lean his head on my shoulder, and as the adrenaline seeped from my body with every chug of the wheels, I felt giddy, high with relief.

  ‘I’m starving,’ said Brownie. He checked the timetable on the wall. ‘Twenty minutes till Huddersfield.’

  I hitched the knapsack higher over my shoulder. ‘We’re not going as far as Huddersfield.’

  He turned and checked the timetable again. Then frowned at me. ‘That’s the first stop.’

  ‘Not tonight it isn’t.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I pushed Brownie down the train, trying to find an empty carriage. It was just past one o’clock on Sunday morning and we were conspicuously different to the rest of the passengers, all of whom were dressed for their holidays. Nearly everyone wore sunglasses, and suitcases the size of small houses hung from the luggage racks. A crowd of young women, obviously a hen party or something, occupied half the next carriage. I glanced at Brownie. His skin was grey and kind of shiny and he smelled, a salty, acrid smell. I did the maths, at least forty hours since his last hit.

  We settled ourselves at the far end of an almost empty carriage, where no one could hear us. I sat back in my seat, closed my eyes and visualized Dewsbury station. I’d passed through it enough times – on the way to visit Jo’s mum, and me and Jo had unintentionally spent some time there just before Christmas. We’d been to see Arcade Fire in Manchester and got so pissed we’d been thrown off the train at Dewsbury by a guard with no sense of humour. It had taken hours to find a taxi willing to drive us back to Leeds.

  I focused my mind. Eliminated everything except the next ten minutes. I visualized the station, what I remembered of it. Duck and Bernie would have to leave their Escort in the car park beyond the station entrance. Then they’d have to go on foot through the station to Platform Two. I pictured the small waiting room, like a Perspex bus stop. We’d thought about kipping there at one point.

  I opened my eyes again, felt sweat trickle down my stomach, the money belt feeling like a bandage wrapped around my torso. Nine minutes.

  I spent three of them outlining the plan to Brownie. His eyes blurred, and I knew he was a weak link, my Achilles heel, but there was nothing I could do about that. He didn’t have much to do. I had to hope for the best.

  ‘If they see me, they’ll kill me,’ he said.

  ‘They won’t, because I’ve got this.’ I patted the knapsack on my back. ‘This is what they’re after.’

  I stopped talking and left Brownie, spent two minutes walking from one end of the train to the other, trying to keep a count of who was in each carriage. I took a quick peek inside the guard’s van at the far end. Unoccupied.

  When I got back to Brownie he seemed resigned to his fate. I used the next two minutes to centre myself, breathing in and out, slow as I could. This was going to take confidence, authority. I had to compel them to do what I said. There wouldn’t be any time for persuasion.

  I opened my eyes. Almost time. I stood up, pushed Brownie all the way down the train to the doorway in the last carriage. I held up two fingers, one at a time with each instruction.

  ‘One. Get off the train,’ I said, my eyes boring into his. ‘Two. Say sorry to the guard.’

  I left Brownie standing by the door and made my way back towards the front of the train. I’d got as far as the middle when the first signs of civilization appeared through the window. Houses poking out among the trees, then a factory, a mill chimney, streetlights. I took five twenty-pound notes out of my money belt and zipped it back up. Held onto the cash with my right hand and, with my left, reached for the emergency pull cord. I licked my lips, counted to three and then yanked.

  Nothing happened for a second. Then a jolt and I was thrown forward. The wheels screeched, metal on raw metal, awful sound. I glanced to see whether anyone had seen me pull the cord, but the grown-ups in the one family in the next carriage both had their backs to me. I walked as calmly as I could past them, stopping only to place my knapsack in the overhead luggage rack.

  The train slowed. I continued walking down it. I saw a church tower. I had no idea how long a train took to stop but we were rapidly losing speed. I stumbled into the back of another seat as the carriage juddered. Dewsbury station came into view.

  ‘Please be there,’ I heard myself whisper.

  Two men, one in a leather jacket, hovered by the waiting room, illuminated by two globe-like lamps on the waiting room wall. The next thing I saw made my heart bounce. Jo, sitting inside, arms folded, facing out. I know she saw me too because she grinned. I turned and set off towards the rear of the train, jogging now, as the train slowed to a crawl. I fought the urge to sprint. On the platform, the guy in the hooded top noticed my sudden movement and frowned. I carried on running. There was no one else on the platform, no one standing waiting to get on. No one waited at a station where the train wasn’t scheduled to stop.

  We ground to a halt and I heard a shout from somewhere further back down the train. I looked back out of the window and saw the guy in the leather jacket moving diagonally across the platform, heading towards me. No sign of Brownie.

  ‘Get off the fucking train, Brownie.’

  I reached the doors just as the train hit a standstill. I pressed the button and shoulder charged the door. It
flung open.

  ‘Your money’s here,’ I shouted.

  The man in the jacket was white, mid-twenties, overweight. He wore a gold signet ring on the middle finger of his right hand. I drank in the details of him, committed them to memory. The second guy was on his way over. Twenty paces behind.

  ‘Everything you want.’ I opened the palm of my hand. Showed him the clutch of twenty-pound notes.

  The train driver had got off the train. ‘What’s happened?’ he shouted. I swallowed as I caught a glimpse of Brownie at the far end of the platform.

  I returned my stare to the bloke in front of me. ‘The rest of your cash, all of it, is in a blue knapsack, in the luggage rack, third carriage down. You need to get on the train.’

  Brownie had reached the train driver. He positioned himself, as instructed, so that the driver had his back to us.

  ‘Get on, Bernie,’ I said to the man in the leather jacket. ‘Tell Duck to get on the train.’

  Duck reached his mate, so they both stood in front of me. The train driver shouted something at Brownie. Something along the lines of, ‘You stupid fucking idiot,’ I’d guess.

  Duck turned, caught sight of Brownie. Duck clenched his fists.

  I spoke to Bernie. ‘Leave Jo and leave him.’ I gestured towards Brownie. ‘Everything you want, the cash, everything, is on this train.’

  I watched the driver climb back on board, shaking his head. I turned back to Bernie and Duck. ‘It’s going to go. The train is going to go. You’ve got to get on.’

  No time to make an informed decision. Bernie grabbed Duck’s arm.

  I stepped aside, still holding out the twenty-pound notes. Bernie stepped on the train. He went to grab the money from my palm, at least I thought he did, but instead of taking the cash, he held onto my wrist. Duck jumped on board. The engines started up again. I tried to move forward, towards the door, towards the station platform, but Bernie’s grip was strong.

  ‘You’re with us,’ he said.

  He slammed the door shut. Through the window I saw Brownie with Jo. The train inched into gear.

  ‘OK, come with me,’ I said, in as normal a voice as I could, like this was always the plan. I wiped the palms of my hands on my trousers.

  I walked them into the first carriage. ‘I’ve got us a good seat.’ They followed me through the first, into the second carriage. Holidaymakers stared up at us. I kept smiling at everyone. ‘Wonder what that was all about,’ I said to no one in particular.

  The third carriage had the family with the two young girls in it.

  I stopped at the seats opposite them and slipped into the row. Bernie and Duck followed me.

  I raised my eyebrows and nodded at the family opposite. My cheeks ached from the size of my grin. ‘Fancy bumping in to you two,’ I said to Duck and Bernie. ‘Sit down, you’re making the place look untidy.’ I pulled a face at the mother and laughed.

  Duck and Bernie frowned but did as I said. As they sat down, I stood up again. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. I brought your stuff.’

  I reached up to the overhead luggage rack and tugged the knapsack down. I held it by the straps. ‘It’s been ages. How’ve you been?’

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Duck. ‘What about—?’

  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ I said. ‘They’ll be fine. Probably go for a picnic. Forecast is great.’

  The train gathered speed and I watched the platform move past the windows. I dropped the rucksack onto Bernie’s lap. His fingers closed around the straps. ‘This everything?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks for lending. Really enjoyed Toy Story 2. So funny.’ I made as if to sit down, but before my bum hit the seat, I jumped back up. ‘I’ll just nip to the loo. Sorry, bursting.’ I threw a smile at the two girls, who grinned back. ‘Won’t be a sec.’

  I turned and made my way down the train, towards the rear. I heard Bernie say, ‘Hang on a minute,’ but I didn’t stop to hear more. I ran through the next carriage. The train picked up speed, the clackety clack noise rhythmic. I sprinted on till I reached the guard’s van. Still empty. I unclipped the sash window. My stomach heaved as I skipped one leg up onto the windowsill, then the other. I paused for a millisecond, then pushed myself out and dropped onto the moving track below.

  I stumbled as I hit the ground but didn’t fall. My knees hesitated, trying to decide whether to collapse or hold firm. The train rushed on past me. It took me a couple of seconds to assess myself as capable of movement and then I ran, in the opposite direction to the train, down the centre of the right-hand track, back towards the station. Three maybe four hundred yards. It took me eighty-seven seconds but it felt like twenty minutes, and I prayed there were no goods trains on their way. My lungs screamed as I sprinted straight for Platform One. The station was deserted, no sign of Brownie or Jo as I hauled myself up the wall, onto the stone platform.

  I found them at the front of the station, on the steps. I threw myself into the back of both of them, feeling like my lungs were bleeding. Jo turned and grabbed hold of me. I almost collapsed in her arms.

  ‘OK?’ I asked, checking her face, her arms for bruises, any signs of maltreatment.

  She pushed me away and pulled a face. ‘You took your bleeding time.’

  ‘Soz. Not easy, this Wonder Woman stuff.’

  Jo punched me on the arm. ‘You didn’t give them the cash, did you?’

  I grinned. ‘You’re back.’

  ‘Thanks to you.’ She punched me again.

  ‘Got to make a phone call,’ I managed, my breath still on the railway track. ‘I’ll have to find a payphone.’

  ‘Where’s my phone?’ asked Jo. ‘You’ve got my phone.’

  ‘Oh. About that.’

  ‘You lost my phone? How did you lose my phone?’

  I stared at her. ‘Well, fucking shoot me. It’s been a difficult night.’

  ‘That’s two phones in two days.’

  ‘Dock it from my wages. If we make it out of this alive.’

  I found a public phone, to the right of the ticket office. I dialled 999 and in as low a voice as possible told the operator I thought there were terrorists on the 4.01 Leeds to Manchester airport train. Due to arrive in Huddersfield in twelve minutes. I said I’d heard them mention bombs and one of them was Asian. I know. Playing to racist stereotypes, but if that didn’t bring the rapid response unit out, nothing would.

  I hung up the call and picked a card for a cab firm from the hundreds pinned to the wall. Once I’d ordered a taxi I re-joined Brownie and Jo on the steps.

  ‘Can’t believe you gave them the cash,’ said Jo. ‘Low-life, dirty—’

  ‘Relax,’ I said as I steered them into the car park. ‘I didn’t give them the cash.’

  ‘He said you did.’ Jo gestured to Brownie.

  ‘I gave them a bagful of envelopes stuffed with compliment slips. The money’s here.’ I lifted my jumper to reveal the money belt.

  ‘No shit,’ said Brownie.

  ‘How did you get here?’ I asked Jo.

  Jo pointed at the only red Escort in the station car park.

  ‘Now they’re going to kill me,’ Brownie muttered.

  I linked arms with Brownie. ‘Time to move.’

  ‘Where’re we going?’ asked Jo.

  I grabbed hold of Jo with my other arm and steered them down the steps as a taxi turned the corner and pulled up in front of us. We needed to hide, we needed breathing space. Brownie needed taking care of. The answer was obvious.

  ‘To the safest house I know.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We clambered into the taxi, Brownie in the front seat next to the driver, me and Jo in the back. The driver couldn’t believe his luck when I gave him our destination, at least not after he’d asked for payment up front and I’d handed over a couple of twenties. I didn’t blame his suspicion. It had to be said, we weren’t looking great. Brownie’s whole body twitched, and Jo’s hair had frizzed to the point she looked like she’d had electric shock therapy. We sta
yed silent, lost in our own thoughts, as we hurtled along the M62.

  I got the taxi driver to drop us at the first service station we came to. ‘Come on, we all need coffee.’

  ‘Starbucks is the safest place you know?’ asked Jo, as we climbed out the taxi.

  ‘We’re not there yet,’ I said. ‘Want to make sure there’s no one following us.’

  I sent Jo and Brownie to get the drinks while I found another payphone and ordered us a second cab. They told me it would be twenty minutes. I checked the time and grimaced. She’s always been an early riser, but, even so, we were going to be pushing it. I replaced the receiver and went to find Brownie and Jo.

  Despite the fact it was still the middle of the night, we weren’t the only ones in Starbucks. Jo had got us a table in the corner, and Brownie looked like he’d fallen asleep. He was curled in a ball on the settee.

  ‘Where’d you find him?’ asked Jo.

  ‘He was locked in the toilet at Duck and Bernie’s.’

  ‘Why’s he wearing girls’ trousers?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ I nodded to the truck driver sitting a couple of tables away. He didn’t notice me, his eyes fixed as they were on Jo. ‘Wait till we get there.’

  ‘Are we going where I think we’re going?’

  Aunt Edie lives in a maze of identical terraced houses in Accrington. She’s lived in this house as long as I can remember, and I still find it hard to tell the streets apart. No one would find us here, but I got the taxi to drop us three streets down, just to be certain. As we passed the corner shop, a van driver threw a bundle of The Sun newspapers onto the pavement where the newsagent was waiting in his slippers.