‘Are they in?’ he asked doubtfully as the car skidded in the puddled rainwater outside Ming’s door.
‘You can wait if you like,’ I bluffed. ‘Check.’
I shut the car door and hitched my backpack onto one shoulder, then lifted my sleeping bag. No light showed through the thick overlong curtains that belonged in a much bigger house, but a rectangle of dim light opened as Ming came to the door, silent and blinking. His left eye was half-closed, bruised and cut quite badly, and his lip was split. I couldn’t believe he’d managed to get in a fight in the short time I’d been away but I wasn’t in any position to give him a hard time about it.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘Hello.’
‘Can I stay?’ I put all my desperation into the look I gave him, hoping we were still telepathic.
Ming looked past me to Dad’s car. ‘Hi, Rector Gabriel.’
‘Hi, Ming,’ Dad called. ‘Is your Mum there?’
‘She went down to the shop. She’ll be back in ten minutes. Dad’s in the bath, you want a word?’
Bless you, Ming.
‘No, no. It’s okay. Is this all right? Did your parents get the phone message?’
‘Yeah. S’fine.’
There was silence for a dragging moment, and Dad’s uncertainty was almost tangible. Then the engine coughed into life, and as Ming stood back to let me past into the hall, the car pulled away. Hesitating, I turned and watched till it had turned the corner. There was no way I could really see Dad’s blue eyes in the rearview mirror. But I imagined I did, and I was still seeing them as I walked into Ming’s sitting room and heard the front door close quietly behind me.
15: Taking Precautions
It was still raining. I could hear the desultory dash of it against the windows and the roof, occasionally rising to a thunderous clatter before it faded again, but it never stopped, not altogether. I wished it would.
An unpromising dawn filtered through Ming’s curtains, greying his bedroom with dull light though it was barely four o’clock. There wasn’t much night at this time of year.
Funny, but I hadn’t been scared at all. No wild reactions, no involuntary shudders, no flinching, no kicking him in the nuts. Far from it, actually. It was fine. Better than fine.
What I liked just as much, though, was lying here with Ming’s arm round me, his face turned towards mine in his sleep, his breath against my forehead, his hair tickling my cheek. I liked having so much of my skin touching so much of his. I liked my legs being tangled up in his, and my hand splayed against his chest to feel the rise and fall of his ribcage and the slow drowsy thump of his heart.
I even liked the hot and bothered feeling of being so close to him and remembering what we’d got up to and not being able to do it again because he was asleep. It was a pleasant tingling sort of frustration. My fingers tightened against his chest, and as if responding he rolled onto his side in his sleep. I drew back a tiny distance to focus on his sleeping face. His mouth creased up at the corners, and his eyelids twitched in a dream. His left eye was in quite a state, and I suspected that even when he woke up it was not going to open. There was still a little bruising and yellowness on the edge of his right eye socket, too, from his last run-in with Jeremiah’s gang. His upper lip was swollen with the new cut, and an old scar about a centimetre long ran up from it. There were speckles of dried blood just inside his nostrils, and a slight bump on his nose where it had once been broken. Ming’s face had quite a history for its age. It really was beautiful. It wasn’t a perfect face but I loved it.
Lying there it crossed my mind to be glad I’d fallen out with Mum and Dad, and to hope Ming’s parents wouldn’t be released just yet. Not tonight...
As if I didn’t feel enough of a slug already, now I felt like something on the heel of Ming’s shoe. But it wasn’t my fault they’d been arrested. Not entirely and directly my fault. Nor was my quarrel with Mum and Dad my fault, unless I’d engineered my unwillingness to be in the same house. Which I might have, a tiny bit. But I was truly hurt, and confused, and angry, and maybe I wanted to hurt, confuse and anger them right back.
I wriggled carefully around so that my back was to Ming. He stirred but didn’t wake, and his body nestled more comfortably against mine, his arms tightening around me. We fitted perfectly together, like we’d been made that way.
I must have slept, because when I was next aware of anything our positions were reversed. Ming lay with his back to me and I was curled against him, one arm hooked around him, my cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. I knew he was awake, though: I could tell from the tension in his body.
My horrible dream frayed and dissipated, lost in the reality of Ming’s presence, and I was grateful. I could remember only a little, and that was more than enough. I’d been slamming my fist hard into someone’s head, someone whose face I couldn’t see. I was striking them so hard the skull crumpled, not like paper exactly but as easily as squashing an empty Coke can. There was a lot of blood but I was surprised how cold it felt where it drenched my fingers. Now that I was awake, I tried to move my right hand, but it was numb where I lay on it.
The remote control was in Ming’s hand and the little television under the window was on, the volume turned very low. I couldn’t see the screen but I could hear the cheery morning signature tune of the Breakfast News. I could picture Tanya Moonfleet’s psychotic morning smile, could hear her giggling and flirting with her co-presenter and then turning so serious so quickly you’d think she was bipolar. Dad and I used to watch her over breakfast, openmouthed, plotting her horrible death over the toast rack.
That didn’t seem quite such a joke any more.
‘The Commissioner of Police has released details of a man wanted for questioning about the presumed kidnapping of Bishop Todd Lamont.’ Her voice thick with concern. Tanya paused, presumably while a picture flashed onto the screen. ‘Colum Quinn, disgraced former editor of the Questioner, has not been seen since late last week when his newspaper’s offices were raided by police and closed down on charges of sedition, blasphemy and libel. While fears continue to grow for Bishop Todd’s safety, police are anxious to talk to Mr Quinn, but fear that he has already crossed the border in an attempt to evade justice.’
They switched to an outside broadcast; you could hear the change in sound quality, the muted roar of traffic and the patter of rain on umbrellas. I recognised the voice of the Security minister. ‘We are confident that extradition will be swift despite the absence of any formal treaty with our neighbours. Harbouring an enemy of our state would after all constitute an act of aggression that we and our allies could not tolerate, and we demand Mr Quinn’s immediate and unconditional rendition...’
‘That’s that journalist,’ I mumbled. ‘Quinn.’
Ming clicked off the television and looked over his shoulder. ‘Hi,’ he said, and smiled.
‘Hi,’ I said back. There was a spot between his shoulder blades that needed kissing, so I obliged. I felt him squirm and was pleased with myself.
Ming reached out to lay the remote on the bedside table. ‘I’ll turn round in a minute,’ he muttered. ‘But could you do that again?’
Well, I aimed to please.
After a bit he wriggled round and kissed me. ‘I love you,’ he said.
My heart floated. ‘Yeah. Likewise. That’s that journalist they were talking about,’ I said again. ‘The one that interrupted Ma Baxter’s press conference.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Ming let his forefinger trace my hairline. ‘Listen, about Todd, and... and you. I’m sorry, Cass.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I told him coolly. ‘They wouldn’t let you tell me, right?’
‘No.’ He chewed the corner of his mouth, the tip of his tongue running across his new scar, and slewed his eyes away from mine. ‘Griff didn’t like me touching you. In case I...’
‘Quite,’ I said. ‘I know.’
‘Well, he was right.’
‘Might have happened anyway,’ I pointed o
ut. ‘And I had to remember sometime.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That’s... well, that’s kind of what I thought too.’
The funniest thing was, my demon had curled up and died, some time in the night. I could still feel the weight where it had lain, but like an amputated limb, it was only the memory of something that wasn’t there any more. My body must have absorbed it, like a splinter you couldn’t get out. I’m sure I still had a lot of yelling and sulking and blaming to do, but I wasn’t going to die of it. Nobody was. Except one, and I guess he’d done that already. It was nobody’s fault, after all. Nobody’s but Todd’s.
The door creaked open, and a second or two later a warm weight landed on us. Keyser Soze trod a few circles on our bellies, his claws unretracted, then curled up between us, his weight shoving us apart. As Ming rubbed between his scabby ears with a forefinger, the brute began to purr like a train. He pretended to be out of it within seconds, but I wasn’t born yesterday. He wasn’t asleep, he was jealous.
‘You do know your cat’s gay,’ I told Ming.
He gave a snort of laughter. ‘He could have you killed for that.’
‘I bet.’ I snuggled as close to Ming as I could get, dislodging Keyser Soze. Ten needles sank into my thigh, despite his pretence at unconsciousness, but I ignored the brute.
‘Cass,’ whispered Ming.
‘Mm.’
He took a breath, as if he was gathering up his courage. ‘I have to leave. I can’t stay in this country, I can’t.’
I’d been expecting it, but I felt myself start to cry anyway.
‘I might as well go. I won’t get back into school now. Your dad’s pal Wilf barely got you off the hook, Cass. There’s no way he could get me off too.’
I knew that. I felt horribly guilty but what could I do? ‘What about your mum and dad?’
‘They’ll understand. Actually they’ll approve. If they ever hear about it.’
My blood froze. ‘Meaning what?’
‘I’ve heard. They’re not. Coming out this time.’ He was gasping for breath in his effort not to cry.
I took his face between my hands and stroked his hair off it. I was afraid to hug him because he was tensed like a cat and I was afraid he’d spring away and run. ‘Who told you that? Ming! Who told you that?’
His face was locked into a tight scowl, which was how he’d always suppressed his tears. ‘Somebody came last night.’
‘A friend?’
He shook his head and swallowed hard. I wanted to wrap him up and stow him away in my ribcage in the space my demon had left. Keep him safe till they’d gone.
‘No,’ he said at last. ‘Somebody who’d seen Mum and Dad recently. I don’t know if he was militia or police, maybe both. He said they’d come for me eventually.’
‘Oh, God, Ming. Couldn’t you... isn’t there someone we could call?’
‘Ghostbusters?’ His smile failed. ‘This guy said, don’t bother calling the police, ’cause I’d be wasting my time and theirs. Well, I knew that already.’ He rubbed his bruised nose with a fist, and winced. ‘He said they couldn’t be bothered taking me into care. The state doesn’t waste its money on the likes of me. He said I’d better go on taking care of myself ’cause when I’m old enough to hang they’ll come and get me for something.’
Oh, God, oh God. ‘Cause of Rose?’ I whispered.
‘No, no. For lots of things. Just for being their son, I think. It’s not your fault, Cass, honest. They know fine I didn’t do anything to Rose. Wilf saw everything and he’s an important guy.’
‘So meanwhile they’re taking it out on your mum and dad.’
‘Cass.’ He smiled weakly. ‘They take everything out on Mum and Dad. Forget it.’
Slug, slug. I was a slug. It wasn’t just that it was all my fault. While I was having my little family crisis and plotting how to run to him and beg for sympathy, Ming was being intimidated by the religious police. Being beaten up by them. I was on the brink of self-hatred but since that would be just another version of feeling sorry for myself, I stopped my train of thought in its tracks, and hugged him fiercely.
‘I need to go over the border,’ he mumbled into my neck. ‘Claim asylum. I’m tired, Cass. I’m so tired of getting the crap beaten out of me and I’m not seventeen yet.’
I swallowed my tears and clenched my teeth. ‘But it’ll be awful. They’ll intern you, if they don’t send you straight back.’
‘I don’t care. I’ve got to try.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
His arm tightened around me and he kissed my scalp. ‘Don’t be daft. You’ve got your family.’
There was nothing I could reasonably say to that, so I kept my mouth shut.
Being with Ming, eating breakfast and washing up and watching television, felt like being wrapped in a warm cocoon, but I could go home and be with my parents any time I wanted. Ming was stuck with his freedom. All the same, I have to admit I was happy. I could even think about Todd and the years of being somebody who wasn’t real, and I could still be happy. I’d been a pretend person for so long, maybe it was easy to go on pretending. I was only playing house, playing at real life. But this felt more real than my last four years.
Maybe my brother had more sense of reality than I did. He certainly had more sense, as I remembered when he rang the doorbell later that morning and Ming opened the door as if he was expecting a fist in the face.
Griff only smiled thinly, and held out his hand. ‘I won’t stay.’
‘Sure?’ Ming took his hand with some trepidation.
Peering over Ming’s shoulder, I smiled at my brother. Actually I nearly laughed. I didn’t think Griff was the shaking-the-hand-of-your-sister’s-seducer type. Unless he was about to challenge Ming to a duel or something.
As Ming drew his hand away he closed it into a fist. ‘Where did you get those?’ His eyes were wide. ‘They’re prescription-only. You need a letter of permission from your rector.’
‘I’ve got sources. And no, I didn’t ask Dad.’
I put my hand over my mouth. Ming shoved what Griff had given him into his pocket.
‘Oops,’ said Griff sarcastically. ‘Forget something, Cass?’ His eyes strayed back to Ming. ‘I suppose you’ve already been stupid but don’t be any stupider, will you?’
‘Okay,’ said Ming, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, wincing as he absently touched his eye.
‘What happened to you?’ said Griff.
‘Just the usual,’ said Ming, shrugging.
‘Well, watch yourselves. Be careful.’ Griff eyed us both. ‘In all sorts of ways.’
I pushed past Ming and hugged Griff. He looked a bit surprised but he hugged me back.
‘Mum’s going to phone you later,’ he told me. ‘Pretend his parents are in, won’t you?’
• • •
Mum called when Ming was out. He’d gone out just before lunchtime, having given me a verbal Rough Guide to Ming’s Fridge and the cooker instructions, but all I wanted was some toast. Actually, all I wanted was to go with him, but he wouldn’t let me. He’d been so bossy and alpha-male about it I was pissed off with his attitude. And my toast was starting to burn and I couldn’t find the cancel button, so when the phone rang I grabbed it and snapped my name into it without thinking.
A hesitant silence. ‘Cass.’
‘Yeah.’ I set my teeth, annoyed at myself. ‘Hi, Mum.’ Getting my brains back in line, I splayed my fingers over the mouthpiece and shouted, ‘Yeah, Mrs Urquhart. S’okay. It’s for me.’
Silence again. Suspicious silence. ‘Are you all right, Cassandra? Is there anything you need?’
Is there anything I need? What did she think I was going to say? A new brain. A new past. No, Mum, thanks, we’re okay for condoms.
‘I suppose that was a stupid question,’ she said into the silence.
‘No, Mum. No. I’m fine, honest.’ Rubbing a tear from the corner of my eye, I bit my u
pper lip. ‘I need some time, that’s all.’ Oh, and I need to sleep with my boyfriend to remind myself I’m a person, I need to be with him more than I need to be with you, and I love him so much I’m prepared to lie to you and hurt you, and I feel so guilty I think I’ll have to shoot myself. Otherwise... ‘I’m fine. How’s Aunt Abby?’
‘Your father says she’s fine. It’s... it’s a mess, Cassie. It’s complicated. I’ll explain it to you. I promise.’
‘All right. It’s all right, Mum, really.’ And it really was. I had my secrets and they had theirs. That was how the world worked. We couldn’t know everything, could we? We’d go mad.
‘Can I speak to Mrs Urquhart?’
Oh, don’t strain yourself, Mum.
I said, ‘She’s just gone into the loo. Want me to get her to call you back?’ My, I was getting good at the family business of lying.
‘It’s okay. I’ll... I’ll call again later.’ She hesitated. ‘Come home any time, Cass. You know we love you, don’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ I mumbled, ‘I love you too.’
‘Good.’
When we’d hung up I cried for a bit, and threw my burnt toast in the bin. After that I found it hard to kill the time. I watched Angels and Martyrs. They found the body under the patio. Major drama, major hysterics. Myself, I thought they were overreacting.
I fed Keyser Soze, and he bit me on the ankle for my pains. I did some ironing, badly. I watched the news for a bit: more arrests, more demonstrations, a growing diplomatic spat with the neighbours. Wow. It was better soap opera than Angels and Martyrs, and Ma Baxter was much the best actress on television.
Nothing about Holy Joe, though. Whatever they’d found they were keeping it quiet. I hoped Abby really was all right. I hoped she wasn’t scared, there in her cell. I hoped she wasn’t lonely and afraid without the love of her life to cuddle against her and tell her it was all okay, that he was going out but he’d be safe, he’d be back soon, she was safe too and she wasn’t to move, please feed the cat and no she could not go with him.
And it kept on raining.
Bad Faith Page 14
