by Gina Blaxill
But part of me felt awful for him. What shitty luck to have been in the shop. And who could tell how they’d react in a life-and-death situation? What would I have done? I liked to think I’d’ve raised the alarm. But I might have frozen too. I’d turned to putty when those guys laid into me, and I’d screamed at the police when I saw Nadina on the stretcher. I hadn’t reacted to either of those situations in the way I’d’ve thought.
Can’t judge Sam for this, I told myself. I can’t like him for it, but I can’t be unfair.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘a lot less of us would have played hero than you think.’
Sam lowered his palms from his face. ‘It shows what I’m made of, that’s for sure,’ he said in a small voice. ‘I wish I could go back and change it, but I’m not Doctor Who.’
‘They saw you. Right?’
‘Yes, when I finally got it together enough to run. When they got violent with Hamdi I was terrified they’d realize I was there and turn on me. It was really lucky that the high road was busy, else they’d have chased after me. I dragged Mia out of the diner and we ran. I think she got away with it. They probably only saw her from behind.’
I wondered how they’d worked out who Sam was. There must be any number of kids fitting his description in the local area. ‘So this is why they tried to run you down.’
‘I’m a witness and this is a murder. That’s a pretty good motive, isn’t it?’
‘Sure, but . . .’ I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, frowning. ‘It’s pretty damn drastic, Sam. Didn’t they try threatening you first? “Keep your mouth shut else we’ll beat you up” kind of thing. Come to that, how did they even work out who you were?’
‘Guess they must’ve got a good look at me, even though I thought they hadn’t. As for threatening me, that wasn’t much of an option.’ Sam’s voice shook. I sensed we were getting to the crux of it all. ‘You see, I wasn’t just an eyewitness. I did manage to get it together in one sense . . .’
I snapped my fingers. ‘You videoed the attack on your phone!’
He nodded, patting his pocket. ‘The phone’s here. Proper evidence. I mean, it’s not great quality, but it shows most of the attack. The drawback is, they know I filmed them.’
‘Does the video show who they are? Is there CCTV to back it up?’
‘From what I’ve heard, the CCTV was down and they were waiting for someone to come and fix it. And with the video . . . sort of yes and no.’
‘Can I see it?’
From outside I heard an announcement that the next train from London was due. I couldn’t believe we’d been sat in this freezing waiting room for well over an hour. The rest of the world seemed a long way away. I held out my hand for Sam’s mobile – then stopped. I’d realized something.
‘They wanted my phone. Those guys – the ones who hit me. For some reason they think I was there too. Or that you shared the video with me. Or something.’
‘I haven’t shared it with anyone,’ Sam said – then stopped, looking dumbstruck. ‘Oh. Imo, they must have thought Mia was you.’
I shut my eyes, remembering the photo I’d seen in Sam’s room. ‘That explains a lot. You weren’t around to threaten so they turned on me. That night outside the chicken shop would have backed up their belief that we’re mates. Bloody hell! In some twisted way it’s almost funny.’
‘Hilarious.’ Sam sounded wretched.
I frowned. ‘What?’
‘We’re probably right about the mistaken identity and I’m really sorry about that. But there’s one other thing I need to say . . .’
This must be what Sam had come to tell me at the chicken shop. The thing he’d lied about when I’d gone to his house and been sidetracked by hearing about Benno being bullied.
‘Go on,’ I said.
Sam took out his phone and held it towards me. His hands were white and shaking. I heard a rumble as a train rolled in.
‘This is how the gang knew who I was,’ he said very quietly as a video loaded on-screen. And then my mobile buzzed. Annoyed, I took it out, pressing the button to cut the call.
‘The screen said Ollie,’ Sam snapped. ‘Why is he calling?’
‘Because he’s my boyfriend.’
‘Yes, but –’ Sam jumped up, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the door. I was so surprised that I didn’t resist.
‘What the hell?’
‘We’ve got to get out!’ Sam shouted. Confused and disorientated, I found myself on the platform. People were heading towards the exit. Everything was normal.
‘I don’t understand . . .’ I started to say – and then at the furthest end of the platform, I caught sight of someone very familiar. Ollie! He must have come here to find me. Then I saw that he wasn’t alone. He had two guys with him. Two guys I recognized. Two guys that made me freeze.
One wore a black hoody. One wore a khaki coat.
Sam tried to pull me towards the exit, but I was staring at Ollie. Why was he with these guys? Then I saw his face. There was blood under his nose. Even from this distance that was clear. And he was standing awkwardly. As though in pain.
‘Let go!’ I cried, grappling with Sam. ‘We’ve got to help him. I told Ollie where we were. They’ve beaten him up! Pumped him for information!’
One of the guys shouted and pointed. They started running towards us.
Sam grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look him in the eye. ‘Never mind Ollie now! If they catch us, we’re dead!’
‘Get off me!’ I shook him off but Sam grabbed my wrist.
‘Don’t be stupid!’ he shouted. ‘They have knives! They beat you up earlier and this time they’ll do something worse. Do you want to get stabbed to death?’
Even though I was terrified for Ollie, I knew Sam was right. We bolted, weaving through the people heading towards the exit. The barriers were open and we rushed through, pushing people out of our way. Outside the station I looked from one side to the other.
‘Taxi rank!’ Sam yelled. There was a cab waiting and we tumbled into it. As Sam spoke to the driver I slammed the door and locked it. The guys had just skidded out on to the pavement. One held Ollie by the arm. It only took them an instant to spot us, but by then our taxi was on the move, and there wasn’t another. I pressed my hands against the glass, helpless and desperate as we sped away from the station – and from Ollie. Sam said something but I barely heard.
What have I done?
SAM
SUNDAY 17 NOVEMBER
I asked the taxi driver to take us to the university campus. I’d’ve liked to get further away but I didn’t know the area; taxis were pricey and the twenty quid I had on me was only going to go so far. I tried not to think about how much the last couple of days had burned into my savings. The university at least was safe. I hadn’t told Imogen where Harrison’s house was, so there was no way she could have passed that info on to Ollie.
Imogen hadn’t spoken since we’d got in the cab. She stared out of the window as we were driven round umpteen roundabouts before passing out of the town centre into the countryside and then dropped off at the edge of the campus.
I cleared my throat. ‘There’s a student cafe five minutes’ walk away. Let’s go.’
Imogen took out her phone, pressing a few buttons. Then she shook her head in frustration. ‘He’s not picking up.’
‘There was nothing we could have done,’ I said. ‘They tried to kill me, remember, and they beat you up.’
‘We abandoned him!’
‘We wouldn’t win in a fight, Imo. They’d have killed us. You know that. Let’s go somewhere safe where there are lots of people and work out what to do next.’
Imogen just shook her head, staring at her phone. I led her through the green-cum-park area, past tall blocks of student halls and into the quad where the food places seemed to be. Despite it being Sunday, they were all open and quite busy, which didn’t surprise me. Judging by what Harrison shoved down his throat, students were always hungry.
I went into a cafe that reminded me of the greasy spoons back in Yorkshire, holding open the door for Imogen and craning my neck to read the menu on the display board above the till.
‘Are you thirsty? Hungry?’
‘Whatever.’ Imogen went over to a vacant table. I ordered a plate of chips and two Cokes. The man serving didn’t bat an eyelid, though I clearly wasn’t old enough to pass as a student. Perhaps he had me down as a child prodigy. When I brought the tray over, Imogen narrowed her eyes at me.
‘Question: Why didn’t you go to the police?’
I unbuttoned my coat. The air in the cafe was muggy and my heavy coat was making me overheat. ‘Guess.’
‘Just tell me.’
I sighed, looking round at all these happy, ordinary people tucking into food with friends and wished I was one of them. If only we were normal.
‘You know it as well as I do – guys like that never get done. Justice doesn’t happen. I didn’t want to report them and then get killed in a revenge attack. I was scared. Before Hamdi died it was just a robbery. If I’d gone to the police, what was I going to achieve? The guys that did it might get cautioned, even put inside for a few months. Then what? They’d be out and coming after me. It was safer to keep my mouth shut.’
‘It’s murder now,’ Imogen said flatly. ‘You’ve hard evidence. The police will be able to put them away long term.’
‘That doesn’t rule out their friends coming round and punching my face in.’
‘How’s that any different from living in fear right now?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t think about that.’
‘You didn’t think about this running-away plan either, did you?’
‘It seemed a good idea at the time.’ I lapsed into silence.
‘There’s no sitting-on-the-fence option any more. You’d better make your mind up, fast.’
For the first time her borderline-aggressive manner got on my nerves. ‘You don’t seem to be terribly upset about your boyfriend being in the hands of these guys,’ I said. I’d intended to be mean and I got my reaction. Imogen jerked upright, scowling at me.
‘Shut up! Course I’m worried. I’m just trying to get my head round your total stupidity!’
‘I bet you wouldn’t have bloody gone to the police either. In fact, I know so. Think about that before you call me stupid. You didn’t report those texts, did you?’
Imogen’s gaze flickered downward. ‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Well, like it or not, we’re in this together, so if you can bring yourself to get along with me that would be pretty helpful.’
Imogen made a growling noise and grabbed a couple of chips. I opened my can of Coke. My phone was back in my pocket. It felt like it was burning a hole in the coat lining.
‘When they said they’d hurt Benno, I believed them. Because they did Nadina’s shop too.’ Imogen was looking at me. Her lower lip was trembling ever so slightly. ‘Did you know that? She’s in hospital. Broken jaw.’
This was news. More than ever I felt as if I was drowning in a pool that was steadily getting deeper. True, I found Nadina a bit full on, with her intense attitude and loud, aggressive way of speaking, but she seemed like a nice enough girl. That someone I knew had been so badly hurt really hit home.
‘Nadina will be all right, won’t she?’
Imogen nodded. She took out her phone. I saw her eyes widen. I leaned in so I could see the screen.
Will call in 1 hour. Make sure u pick up.
‘That’s from Ollie’s number.’ Imogen said, unnecessarily, because I could see. ‘They must still have him!’
‘I guess.’
She slapped her hand on the table. ‘Don’t sound like that! You might not give a damn if Ollie’s OK but I do. Didn’t you see how he looked? They’ve beaten him up! Used him to get to me so they can get to you! How d’you feel about that, Sam? More and more people getting hurt because of you.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ I shouted. Imogen looked surprised. A group at the next table glanced over, nudging each other. ‘I’m not the enemy here. If you knew what I do . . .’
‘Yeah? And what do you know, Sam? I’m sick of your bloody secrets!’
I looked away, close to losing my temper. You don’t realize how hard I tried to protect you! I wanted to shout. I was so close to telling her what I knew – so close. But all of a sudden I was scared of how she’d react now things had changed. Now Ollie was in their hands. What she might try to do – or try to make me do. She was well and truly wound up. I didn’t trust her to make the right decisions under these circumstances.
‘I’m going to the police,’ I told her, standing up. ‘Now.’
Imogen suddenly looked afraid.
‘Sam, don’t. Not now they’ve got Ollie. Let’s at least take that call first. Please, Sam.’
Looking back, I don’t know why I agreed to wait. I should have known how it would all work out. It wasn’t as though I cared about Ollie, and I doubted he was really in danger.
‘Let’s go to Harrison’s then,’ I said. ‘You’ll want to be somewhere private when your phone rings.’
IMOGEN
SUNDAY 17 NOVEMBER
We left the cafe. I placed a hand on my stomach. It was beginning to give me hell again. I looked at my watch. Forty minutes. ‘Is this house far?’
Sam shook his head. He took me up a long flight of steps. We passed through another square, which seemed to be a student village area with a bank and a bookshop, and along a path with ugly buildings I guessed were either halls or lecture blocks on either side. It led through a green and an area with two-storey houses. Sam was saying something about the houses being designed to look like an ordinary street, and how someone in Harrison’s house had moved out and he’d been staying in their room. I wasn’t really listening. We arrived at a house with a blue door. Sam rang the bell. A blond guy with a body like a rugby player’s opened up.
‘Hi, Harry,’ Sam blurted before Harrison could say anything. ‘This is Imogen. Imogen, this is Harrison. Do you have any painkillers?’
Sam must’ve noticed me wincing. Harrison looked me up and down, grinning, and raised an eyebrow at Sam. I groaned.
‘Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I am not his girlfriend.’
‘Got it.’ Chuckling to himself, he went inside. We followed him into a bare hallway with a faded carpet. Harrison went into the nearest room and started rifling around. If there were painkillers to be found, we might be waiting a while, time I didn’t have – the room was titchy but it was an utter tip. Dirty clothes and loose paper littered the floor, and the desk was piled high with dirty cups and plates. There were even takeaway boxes on the bed. I put my hands in my pockets, feeling increasingly tense. I couldn’t afford to miss this call. Ollie’s safety was on the line. I was doing my best to block it out, but each time I pictured his bloodied face on the platform, guilt kicked in.
‘While I love your company and all that, I feel the need to point out that you’re here under false pretences,’ Harrison was saying. He was moving so slowly I had to grind my teeth together to stop myself from shouting at him to hurry up. ‘You said one night. It’s been four already. While I’m OK helping you out and all, you’ve got to patch things up at home sometime, y’know.’
Sam smiled wryly. ‘Come on, Harry. I did make you lot that chilli yesterday. Your housemate said it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.’
‘Ricky’s from Glasgow. He doesn’t know any better. Aha!’ Harrison took out a packet from the bedside drawer. Sam washed out one of the mugs in the grubby kitchen and filled it with water so I could take the tablets. I shook my head when he asked if I wanted to lie down.
‘Wouldn’t want to impose on your mate’s hospitality any longer than I need to.’
‘Hey, I don’t mind. Neither will the other guys,’ Harrison said, winking. ‘This house needs a woman’s touch. It’s just Sam I object to.’
Sam rolled his eyes. ‘Imogen, let’s go.’<
br />
‘Have fun!’ Harrison called after us. Sam mouthed an apology and took me upstairs to a room very like Harrison’s. Excepting the duvet on the bed, it appeared unlived in. Sam closed the door.
‘This is where I’ve been staying. We can wait here till they call. Are you sure you don’t want to lie down? At least until the painkillers kick in? There’s half an hour yet.’
‘Twenty-five minutes.’ Now that there was a bed in front of me, lying flat seemed a good idea. After checking that my phone had decent reception, I eased myself down. The mattress was surprisingly comfy. I closed my eyes. I could hear the thump of music from below us, and a different beat from the side. Something gurgled; water pipes, maybe the shower. Sam shifted on the plastic chair by the desk. When you just listened, I thought, it was amazing what you could hear.
‘What do you think they’ll say?’ Sam asked.
‘They’ll threaten to hurt Ollie. That’s a given. As if they needed new material for threats.’
Sam didn’t say anything to that. After a silence that seemed to last forever, there was a creak as he rose from the desk chair.
‘I’m going to get us something to eat. Might make you feel better. I’ll be back in time, OK?’
I didn’t reply.
His feet padded on the carpet. The door swooshed open and shut. Alone, I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down the zip, easing the pressure on my bruised stomach. Sam said he felt bad that I’d got beaten up because of him. I now knew exactly how that guilt felt. Ollie had been so concerned – insistent on helping, despite the rocky patch we’d been through. I wished I hadn’t let him. Good deeds give you naff all, I thought. Ollie trying to be a good boyfriend, me saving Sam that night – both had exploded in our faces. Big time.
By the time Sam returned the painkillers had kicked in and I was sitting on the bed, trousers zipped up and feeling less uncomfortable. I tore my eyes from my silent phone and looked up at him as he laid a bowl on the bedside table.
‘There wasn’t much worth having in that kitchen. Made a sort of minestrone from some frozen veggies and pasta and tinned tomatoes and stuff. Hopefully not too gross.’
