‘Just . . . let him have what he wants.’
‘Talk about killin’ the party,’ said Aaron, eyes glittering darkly. He stared at her. His eyes said she should be taught a lesson. But she knew that her treatment of Arcade Phil stopped him from doing so. Also, her anger made her match his gaze. Eventually his eyes dropped. He hit Ashley in the arm. ‘Get him his stuff.’
Ashley got up off the sofa, walked towards the door leading to the bedrooms. Josey flinched as he passed him.
Lila watched him walk down the hall, not closing the doors behind him. She clearly saw him kneel down before a bedside cabinet in the master bedroom, take out a small bag of heroin. Also in that cupboard were piles and piles of money. She couldn’t make out the denominations, but she knew there was plenty there. Enough to start a new life with. And enough gear to sell, just to keep things ticking along while she got established.
Ashley came back, threw the little plastic bag at Josey who scrambled for it, thanking them profusely, and going to the kitchen to start cooking it.
Lila sat back. Plenty to think about now. The money. The drugs. Her way out. She looked at Josey in the kitchen. And when she went, she knew whom she would take with her.
Her thoughts didn’t last long. The door opened. Leon entered. ‘Look who I’ve found . . .’
He stepped inside, letting someone come in behind him. Another black youth, smaller than the others, dressed for the street in London or Manchester but not Newquay. And, Lila soon discovered, full of himself.
‘Danny!’ Ashley and Aaron stood up.
Danny basked in their adoration. Then held up a sports bag. ‘Been to the shops, boys. Brought back supplies. Got something for me?’
Lila watched the others become even more excited, talking over themselves, telling him they did and how good it was to see him again. Then he saw Lila. Smiled. She felt his eyes travel all over her body. He was either underage or stunted, but his gaze went well beyond his years. And not in a healthy way.
‘Who’s this?’
‘Lila,’ said Leon. ‘One I was tellin’ you about.’
Danny walked over to her. His breath smelled of alcohol and Haribo. Looked right in her eyes. ‘Lila.’ The way he said her name made her feel unclean. ‘Lila . . .’
She held his gaze. Tried to imagine he was Arcade Phil. No threat. Easily beatable. Found it hard.
‘Conroy sent her,’ Aaron told him. ‘New recruit. Openin’ up new avenues of trade an’ that.’
‘Good to hear it,’ said Danny. Then his attention was back on Lila. ‘Think you and me’re gonna become friends, ain’t we?’
Lila said nothing. Just tried to look through him.
‘Ooh, a challenge. I like that.’ He turned to the rest of the room. ‘Right. Get your gear on. We’re off out. Wanna combine business with pleasure?’
They did. Lila didn’t move.
‘Let’s go, then.’
24
Kyle was broken. Mentally, spiritually, physically.
He had pulled the bed back into place after his abortive escape attempt. It hadn’t been easy: his body was wrecked from the fall, the impact of the rusted but still sharp springs having gouged bloody tracks along his torso, arms and face, the weight of the frame bruising his muscles and bones. Added to the already existing pain in his ankle and he could barely move.
After moving the bed back he had just lain on it, too damaged and exhausted to get up again. Certainly in no condition to make another escape attempt.
Eventually – he didn’t know how long, it could have been minutes, hours or days – he heard the metal sheeting at the top of the oubliette being pulled across. Despite everything a small glimmer of something welled within him. He wasn’t sure what: hope? Fear? It surprised him; he had thought he was beyond feeling anything any more.
He waited. Told himself it was only for another sandwich and bottle of water to be dropped, or the bucket to be hauled up.
But it wasn’t.
He heard voices. Or at least one.
‘Don’t, I . . . look, I’m sorry, I . . . please . . .’
Kyle was suddenly interested. He attempted to sit up.
No reply. Instead, just more pleading followed. ‘Please, look, we can, we can stop this. I’ll . . . I’ll not say anything. You can trust me.’ Then a final, plaintive, ‘Please . . .’
Kyle heard movement. Scuffling, shuffling, grunting, like a fight was going on above him.
‘No . . . no . . .’
Then a body fell into the oubliette. It landed with a dull thud, hitting the packed earth hard, as he had once done, the breath huffing out to be replaced by wheezing, as the body struggled to reinflate its lungs.
Kyle stared at the figure. His eyes had grown accustomed enough to the gloom to make out that it was a male, with long hair, dressed like a hippy. As he looked, something dropped from above, hit the figure. Kyle knew what it was immediately. A torch.
The metal sheeting was replaced over the hole, there was the sound of retreating boots, then silence.
Kyle waited for the figure to speak. Eventually he rolled over onto his side. Coughed.
‘You OK?’ said Kyle.
The figure jumped. He hadn’t realised there was someone else there.
‘Who’s . . . who’s that?’ Struggling to speak, still gasping.
‘Who are you?’ asked Kyle. He had been used to being alone for so long that to have company was somehow surreal. Part of him doubted that this person was actually physically here. It could just be a hallucination. The figure moved, attempted to rise. Soon gave up on that and remained where he was. He sighed, finally regaining his breath.
Kyle stared. ‘Why are you here?’
The man rose slowly until he was resting on his elbows. He turned towards where Kyle’s voice was coming from. ‘I . . .’ Another sigh. ‘Said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing. Somethin’ like that.’
Kyle couldn’t make out his features but there was something in the man’s voice that sounded familiar. He couldn’t place it, decided to encourage him to keep talking until it came to him.
‘Said the wrong thing to who?’
Another sigh. This time of resignation, acceptance. ‘I know who you are. Your name’s Kyle, isn’t it?’
Kyle was taken aback. He hadn’t expected the man to know him. ‘How d’you know that?’
The man laughed. Harsh and bitter; Kyle heard in it failed dreams and missed opportunities. And self-loathing.
‘Yeah,’ was the only answer the man gave.
Kyle was interested now. He sat up, ignoring the pain the effort involved. ‘How d’you know my name? Who are you?’
‘You really don’t know?’ The man was moving around, checking his limbs still worked, trying to get up. His hand fell on the torch. ‘You really don’t know?’
‘No. I don’t. Who are you?’
It took some effort but the man stood up. He clicked on the torch. The light was sudden, intense and blinding to Kyle after the long enforced darkness.
The man laughed once more. This time like a private joke. Kyle was getting impatient and a little angry. He couldn’t see anything funny in the situation.
‘I said who are you?’
The man swung the beam round the cell. Eventually brought it to rest on himself.
‘Don’t you recognise me? I’m the guy who put you in here.’
25
‘Hello again.’
‘Hi.’
Rachel smiled. ‘Invited this time. Things are looking up.’
Tom stood to one side. ‘Come in.’
Rachel walked straight to the living room. He closed the front door, followed her. When he reached the room she had taken off her jacket, sat down on the sofa. Rubbed her arms.
‘You got the heating on? Place’s cold.’
‘Takes a while to warm up. It’s on, though.’
Tom placed himself on the armchair opposite. He noticed a smile on Ra
chel’s face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. He didn’t know what to make of it.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Do I get a cup of tea this time?’
Tom went into the kitchen, put the kettle on. It was about the same time at night that she had made her last call. Her visits were always late. Or most of them were.
Asking her round had been an impulsive gesture, done to get rid of her while he waited for Kai. Afterwards, he had agonised as to whether it was a good idea or not, but he was committed now. He had to act and hoped he had made the right choice.
He busied himself with getting mugs, milk and teabags, didn’t notice that she had crept in behind him.
‘Broken window?’ she said, walking over to it, flexing the piece of MDF Tom had wedged in place as a makeshift deterrent. ‘You had burglars? Should report that to the police, you know.’
Again, Tom wasn’t sure how to answer. He turned to her. ‘Look, I’ve got some stuff to tell you. I don’t know quite how to say it – I’m not good at this kind of thing – so you’ll have to bear with me. Let’s get our tea, sit down. And talk.’
She pulled out an old wooden chair, sat at the table. ‘It’s warmer in here. I can sit near the Aga.’
They sat facing each other, table used for holding mugs, Aga keeping them warm. Both knowing it was difficult to get their relationship back on a professional footing after being on a personal one for so long.
‘I’ve . . .’ He looked at his mug. Watched the steam swirl. ‘The other night. I wasn’t being a hundred per cent honest with you.’
‘No shit, Sherlock. I’m police. We’re trained to spot liars.’
He nodded. ‘But it’s not what you think. It’s not—’
She placed a hand on his forearm. Looked him in the eye. ‘It doesn’t matter. I was out of order. You don’t owe me anything. I know the rules and I have to stick with them. Even if . . . well, it doesn’t matter.’
‘Is something wrong?’
‘Nothing I can’t cope with. And I shouldn’t take it out on you.’
Tom didn’t want to ask the next question. – didn’t want to become more involved – but he felt he had no choice. ‘Is something wrong at home?’
Rachel gave a sad smile. ‘It doesn’t matter. Tell me what you were going to say.’
Tom looked at her, unsure how to continue.
‘What?’ she said. ‘Why you looking at me like that?’
‘I just want to know what’s wrong, that’s all.’
Rachel sighed. ‘You’re a good-looking bloke, Tom. Christ knows we don’t get many of them round here. And when we do . . .’ She tailed off. ‘Well, I wanted you. You know that. And I . . . I like you a lot. And that complicates things. That’s all.’
Tom was amazed at what he was hearing. Amazed and wary. ‘So what are you trying to say, Rachel?’
‘What about Pearl?’
It wasn’t the answer he had expected. ‘What about Pearl?’
‘Are you seeing her?’ She gave a short laugh that Tom couldn’t guess the intention behind. ‘Is she my rival?’
‘Rival? Pearl?’
‘Oh, come on, I’ve seen the way she looks at you.’ Trying to be playful but an undercurrent of anger behind the words.
‘She’s younger than me.’
‘So what? So am I.’
‘Not as young as her.’
‘She must be, what? Ten years younger than you?’
‘Little bit more. Not much.’
‘That means nothing.’ Rachel sighed again. Thought long and hard before she spoke again. Auditioned several words in her mouth, didn’t speak any of them. ‘Look,’ she said eventually, ‘just forget I said anything.’
Tom tried to speak but didn’t know what to say.
‘Let’s get down to business. What did you want to talk to me about?’
Grateful for an escape from the way the way the conversation was heading, he told her everything.
When he had finished he sat back, looked into his mug. Empty. He got up, filled and boiled the kettle once more. Sat back down, waited for her to process what he’d said and speak.
‘Wow,’ she said eventually. ‘I can honestly say that wasn’t what I was expecting.’
‘No,’ said Tom. ‘But that’s it. Now I have no identity, and maybe she’s got something to do with the disappearance of that student. Noah and his crowd too.’
Rachel looked like she didn’t know what to say, how to react.
‘So will you help me?’
‘To do what?’
‘Monitor my cards. See if they’ve been used anywhere. Or if anything’s popped up for sale. If someone’s been brought in with a bent passport, something like that. And, I don’t know, put out a description of her. Last seen wearing.’
‘Last seen wearing your coat.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’ll do what I can. Obviously.’
‘Thank you. I do appreciate it.’ He paused. Looked at his new mug of tea as if seeking strength there. ‘Do you have to report this?’
‘What, you losing all your plastic? Course I do.’
‘Keep it discreet, though.’
She smiled. ‘No, I’ll put an advert in the paper. Course I’ll keep it discreet.’ She laughed. Her eyes kind of slid sideways. ‘Thought you’d know that about me by now.’
Tom looked away, not wanting to meet her gaze. Or part of him didn’t. ‘What about the surfers? Will you look into them?’
‘Someone will. I’ll pass it up the line. Not me, though, not in my local bobby remit.’
‘Too big for the rural police. Have to bring in the city boys.’
Rachel looked at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Oh, you think we’re all useless here in the country? Good for herding cows, crap at catching criminals?’
‘That’s not what I meant. I know you’re still police.’
‘Obviously. The uniform tends to be a giveaway.’
‘Yeah, but . . . city policing’s different. You know that.’
‘Different, yeah. But not easier.’
‘City police see people at their worst,’ said Tom. ‘Either as victims or perps. On one end of hurting or the other. You never realise the ways humans have got to hurt other humans. You think you’ve seen it all. But you haven’t.’
‘And you think it’s different here?’
‘Isn’t it?’
She laughed. ‘Rural policing’s like a fence. There to keep things straight. Keep things put, or keep things out. You try and fence off people’s emotions, stop them from turning into actions.’
‘City policing’s like that too.’
‘No doubt. But there’s fewer people living here so it becomes a different thing. You try and do things with a gentle word here and there, but . . .’
‘But what?’
Rachel thought hard before answering. ‘You’re in the countryside now. Nature. Red in tooth and claw and all that. And the people living here can be just as bad. And sometimes, even worse.’
She fell silent. Lost in what was behind her words, Tom said nothing.
They both held their mugs, looked into them.
Eventually Rachel looked up.
‘So are we having a fuck or what?’
26
Kyle couldn’t find words. The newcomer kept moving the torch over the walls, the floor of the cell. Part of Kyle’s brain was registering that it was the first time he had seen his surroundings properly. Most of his brain was flailing as to what to do next.
He didn’t know whether to attack the man, channel whatever anger he might be feeling, or ask him where they were, if there was a way out. Or maybe get a view from the outside world, find out what was being done to find him, rescue him. Or just be grateful for some company. He did none of these things. He just stared, mouth open.
The man finished swinging his torch round, brought it to rest pointing downwards. ‘I’m Kai,’ he said, ‘and before you ask, I’m just as much a prisoner as you are.�
�� The words bitter, edged with despair, self-pity.
Kyle found his voice. ‘Why . . . what have they put you down here for?’
‘They think I betrayed them.’ A bitter laugh, spat out like coal dust and phlegm. ‘Yeah. Fuckers.’
Questions bubbled up in Kyle’s mind, all trying to surface at once. He moved his lips but nothing coherent came out.
‘I’m sure there’s plenty you wanna know. But for now, we’ve got to find a way out of here. We can’t stay here.’
‘Why not?’
‘We just can’t. Believe me.’ Kai’s eyes caught the light. Kyle noticed that the man was as scared as he was. Perhaps more so. It made sense. He knew who had put them here. He knew why. It couldn’t be good. Kai’s fear transmitted itself to Kyle. He felt panic rising once more.
‘There’s no way out. I’ve tried. I . . . got hurt trying. Badly.’ He pointed to his injuries. ‘There’s no way out . . .’
Kai turned away, seeming to survey the room once more, but Kyle noticed his words had ramped up the other man’s fear, which Kai didn’t want to let him witness.
‘Why are you here, then? I mean really? What have you done to them?’
Kai sighed. Kept looking, kept turned away from Kyle. ‘You don’t want to know.’
That was when Kyle felt the anger rising within him. All the way to the surface, ready to blow. He grabbed Kai by the shoulders, swung him round to face him. ‘I do want to know. And you need to fucking tell me . . .’ He shook him, hard. ‘Tell me . . .’
Kai tried to wriggle away from Kyle’s grasp, but he just held on all the harder. Which in turn made Kai pull all the harder. Soon the two of them were grappling, Kai trying to escape, Kyle venting his anger, no longer trying to restrain the other man, just hitting him as much as possible. Letting out God knew how many days’ and nights’ worth of pain and fear, channelling it all onto the body of the man who had put him there.
Eventually Kai stopped trying to fight back, just accepted the blows. He slumped to the ground, curling into himself as he did so. Kyle, exhausted, slumped down next to him. They remained in silence, the only sound that of their harsh breathing echoing off the stone and hard-packed earth walls.
The Old Religion Page 12
