No Alarms

by Beckett, Bernard

  Sharon sat and listened to it all, sitting on her hands to stop them doing anything an overexcited little girl’s hands might do, to give her away.

  ‘When do I do it?’ She asked, when he’d finally stopped making it all sound harder than it had to be.

  ‘Tomorrow. Then Wednesday you can bring it round, so we can check. Come for dinner.’

  • • •

  It wasn’t easy, getting it exactly right. That night Sharon stayed up late, with the bus timetable and a map of the city she took from Geography spread out on her bed, feeling like some geek straining hard on a piece of assessment. It was too, an assessment, and she knew they were expecting her to fail, like people always did. Just some clever way of getting rid of an annoying little girl. Not this time though. There was way too much to lose.

  By the time she went to bed she had it all planned out, and having a day planned before her felt so strange she couldn’t sleep.

  She started early, way before Kaz or Zinny had crawled out into the day. It gave her time to walk to her first target suburb, a chance to clear her head, settle the nerves that were going crazy. When she got to the streets she’d marked out the night before they looked just like she’d imagined. Big hedges, mown lawns and wide drives. Rich places, where they’d get rich mail. It should have been easy. It wasn’t like she hadn’t stolen things before, and harder stuff than this too. She’d once managed to get the bladder out of a cask of wine in the middle of a busy supermarket and breezed out past the checkout without even missing a beat. Only this was different. This had her stomach tied up in the sort of knots that get honest people caught every time they try to do something wrong. This wasn’t stealing. This was a test. And passing a test like this, it could change your whole life.

  So she passed the first five houses by, even though there were trees everywhere and no one was ever going to notice, and she could see the mail sitting there, waiting to be lifted. The sixth house she took the plunge, and felt herself walking way too fast towards the white iron box, like she was suddenly in Justin’s world, where everything else got slowed down. She took the first thing she felt and backed up quick, not checking what it was till she’d turned the corner into the next street.

  Some sort of bill by the looks, with a window envelope and typed address. She threw it into a hedge. It didn’t matter. It had broken the ice, like the first punch at a party. No stopping her now.

  ‘Nice day.’ An old fella out of nowhere, walking one of those pathetic little not-quite-dogs that Lennox would eat if he ever got the chance. The guy was wearing an old brown hat, like he was off something on TV1, and when he smiled Sharon smiled back.

  ‘Yeah, not too bad.’ Might steal your mail later, she added to herself as he walked away. Hope you’re expecting something special.

  Trouble came near the end, the way it often does, like it can tell you’re starting to relax. Sharon was two hours into the job and already she had the twenty pieces she’d been set. Good stuff too, coloured envelopes and a few parcels, all from different addresses. They’d have to be impressed when they saw. But there was no point being careful Sharon figured, when the piece that could clinch it was waiting in the next box. And anyhow, it was way too late to be thinking about making it back for afternoon school.

  So she walked up one too many paths. It was the perfect box, stuffed to overflowing like just there the mailman had got sick of his run and dumped what was left. Two packages and a heap of cards. A birthday for sure. Sharon was lingering, like she’d started doing, deciding which piece looked best, when she heard the voice.

  ‘Oi you. What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Delivering pamphlets,’ she said, not even bothering to look up, cool as. She wished Justin and Simon could see it, the way she didn’t crack under pressure.

  ‘Let’s see. What pamphlets?’ An old guy, pensioner age only dressed like he still had a job somewhere, trousers and a shirt and tie. He had a long egghead, bumpy on the top like bits had collapsed, and a black patch covered one eye although Sharon had to look twice to be sure she wasn’t imagining that. What sort of person wore a patch? Probably he was once a bit of a hard bastard, or thought he was.

  ‘Fair enough. If you don’t want any.’ Sharon shrugged like you would if you were delivering. ‘Your business.’ And then she turned to walk away, not even thinking it might be a problem.

  ‘Oi no, no you don’t. What’s in that bag? I’ll call the police you know. Come here, show me.’ He was shouting, probably just pissed off with being old, and the noise of it brought someone out from next door. This guy was less promising, only half the age and wearing shorts and a singlet. Sweating too, and maybe a bit pumped, like he’d just been going hard-out with some weights. Sharon got ready to run.

  ‘What is it Jack?’

  ‘This little bitch, should be at school. I caught her going through our mail.’

  ‘Were you?’ the man stepped forward and the angle for escape closed up.

  ‘No.’ Sharon tried to trick herself into believing she hadn’t done it, so they might believe it too. She thought of her bag, the whole morning’s work. Would she have to dump it, if he chased her? ‘I’m just delivering pamphlets.’

  ‘Get her to show you then,’ Jack crowed, looking much younger now he knew he was winning. ‘Go on, show us these pamphlets of yours.’ And he edged closer too, like he was starting to think what he’d do, if he got his hands on her.

  ‘You said you didn’t want any,’ Sharon said. ‘Here, look then.’ She put one hand into the bag, watching them both, but the young guy especially, waiting for that moment when he might relax. It came, just a second when he looked down to the bag, all she needed. She was halfway back down to the road before the yelling started.

  ‘Get her! Get the cheeky little cow!’ Sharon could hear the other guy’s footsteps behind her, gaining like she knew they would. The bag swung wildly about, crashing against her hip while she pumped hard with her free hand. Her lungs started to burn. She cut down a path and launched her body over a hedge, not thinking about anything except getting away, tumbling down into a bank of overgrown bush. He’d have to be desperate to follow her in but Sharon didn’t take any chances. She slipped and crashed her way down the slope like some wounded animal using up its last chance. There was blackberry at the bottom, doing its bit for law and order. It ripped at her clothes and scratched her face but by then it didn’t matter. She’d made it for sure. She’d won. A good story to tell the guys too, if they needed more impressing.

  Sharon took a moment when she reached the path at the other side, just to let her breath find its way back in. The sun was out again and it made her feel like a smoke. She got through twice as many in the summer. She was just lighting up when the car slowed beside her and her heart stopped again.

  ‘Afternoon.’ A too-young face smiled out above the blue uniform. Through the open window he looked sort of bored. Trouble for sure. Sharon thought about the blackberry. Nah, he’d chase her all the way, just for the fun of it.

  ‘Hi ya.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Sharon nodded, relieved. Just truancy shit. Too easy. ‘Had to go home to pick up an assignment.’

  ‘Sure you did.’ He smiled again, to show her how clever he was. ‘What school?’

  ‘Parkland.’

  ‘Thought they had uniform.’ Yeah, he’d be a detective in no time this one. Except he hadn’t noticed the scratches, or thought how it was a pretty funny looking school bag she was carrying.

  ‘Seventh form.’

  ‘We’re going that way. Can we give you a lift? You’ll have to put that out of course.’

  ‘Oh right.’ Sharon flicked her last cigarette onto the pavement and ground it beneath her shoe. Why not? This was a real story, would get the guys laughing for sure. Not just finishing the job but getting a ride away from the scene with the cops themselves. The whole way there the cop in the passenger seat turned round and asked stupid quest
ions about school while Sharon sat smiling to herself, holding her illicit haul close to her chest. It was a couple of bus trips back from Parkland to her own school but it was worth it, just for the way that felt.

  three

  GETTING READY TOOK FOREVER. Kaz tried to help, once she’d calmed down from realising her own plans for the night would be upset.

  ‘Pub’s not plans,’ Sharon told her.

  ‘Close as I get.’

  But they managed to work a compromise. That was always the way out with Kaz, she couldn’t resist doing a deal. Tonight Sharon got to go to Justin’s and in return Sharon promised to babysit Friday. Fridays were special and Kaz knew she’d got herself a bargain.

  ‘You’ll want something sexier,’ Kaz said, looking doubtfully at Sharon’s latest attempt. No, Sharon thought, not sexy. Capable is what I want, the look of someone who doesn’t fuck up. I want to look hard.

  ‘How about those black jeans you used to wear all the time? They show your arse off. You’ve got a good arse.’

  ‘I don’t want to look like a slut,’ Sharon said.

  ‘Don’t want to look forty either.’

  ‘Like you you mean,’ Sharon said, because she had to hassle, couldn’t help it, wouldn’t want to if she could.

  ‘I’m nothing like forty, cheeky bitch. Nowhere near and you know it.’

  Still, there was something cool about Kaz helping, like it showed how important this was. Sharon ended up in her favourite blue jeans, close to needing a wash, and Kaz’s favourite brown leather jacket. Kaz tried to help with make-up but Sharon wiped half of it off. There was nothing subtle about her mother. That was her trouble most of the time, and her charm. Sharon had already stashed the bag out the front, so she wouldn’t have to lie about it.

  ‘That’s you girl. You look worth the effort now. Don’t be late eh?’

  ‘Not as late as you would. Hey, don’t go taking Zinny down the pub again. You know how he hates the smoke.’

  ‘What are you?’ Kaz asked. ‘My mother?’

  ‘Could be. Got the jacket for it.’ Kaz grinned, the same good looking grin she’d rode through life, and Sharon had to give her a hug.

  ‘Growing to be quite a smart arse you are,’ Kaz whispered and when they came apart Sharon had to work to hide how much she liked hearing that.

  • • •

  Outside it had been raining again. The place smelt warm and clean, like it understood what was happening, could recognise a fresh start. Sharon looked along the street at all the lit up windows, made different colours by their worn out curtains. She knew the name of every person who’d be inside; pick the house, any one, there wasn’t much she missed. And if they happened to be looking out at her, maybe stretching during the ads, they’d know her name too. They wouldn’t be able to guess where she was headed though, to some place they’d never know. She felt it with every new step she took. She was on her way outta there.

  It was Simon who answered the door, and Sharon recognised him straight off. Different jacket this time, some American sport thing, and a hat, but it didn’t stop her seeing. She was good with faces. It was him that morning, at the park, watching her. Not that he said anything about it, or even made out he knew who she was, or why she was there. The way he looked down, not moving out of the doorway at all, she might have been a stranger come to sell him something out of her bag. Hey mister, want to buy some mail? Lucky dip. Take your pick. Or she might have come to buy drugs. He had that look about him, trying to seem tougher than he really was. No brother of Justin’s could be that hard.

  ‘Hi,’ but he didn’t answer, just kept looking her up and down. Sharon didn’t say any more either, in case this was some sort of test too. She wasn’t going to be intimidated, if that’s what he was thinking. Justin broke the stand-off, appearing behind his brother’s wide profile, looking younger and friendlier than Sharon had ever seen him look, just by not being Simon.

  ‘Hey Sharon, how are you? Sharon, this is Simon. Ah, come in.’

  Only she couldn’t, not with Simon still standing there; and when he did finally move he didn’t hurry, just turned and swaggered off to some other part of the house, leaving them alone. Anyone else acting like that, coming on all heavy, Sharon would have taken them on.

  The kitchen was just like Sharon remembered, only bigger somehow, and when Justin invited her through into his room she remembered the bag she was holding, and the place felt bigger again, like she was shrinking. She should have handed it over straight away, while Simon was still there, got the business dealt with early. Now she didn’t know whether to put it down or take it with her, and it didn’t matter how things went, she knew all evening she’d be thinking about it, wondering when the right moment would come to mention it.

  She carried it through, slung over her shoulder like it was part of her, and Justin didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he didn’t make anything of it. Instead he went straight to his computer.

  ‘Look at this.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘See? You can order pizza over the internet. Delivery in twenty minutes guaranteed. All you need’s a credit card. And luckily enough, I just happen to have one here.’

  He passed her the gleaming gold piece of plastic, holding it out like maybe she was meant to get down on her knees and kiss it. Sharon took it, turned it over in her hand and passed it back.

  I don’t want to talk about credit cards, she thought. I don’t want to eat either. I don’t even like pizza all that much. I want to talk about mail. Get Simon in here. Let me show you what I’ve done.

  ‘Gotta love technology don’t ya? Here, what flavour do you like?’

  Sharon heard the front door slam.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Simon, he’s going out. It’s just going to be us.’ Not said sleazy, or hopeful, or anything. Just said.

  ‘But I thought…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ah, nothing.’ Sharon looked at the bag, full of stories of keeping cool and blackberry bushes, that somehow no one wanted to read. There were messages here, something going on, but she kept missing it.

  They ate the pizza in the lounge. Mostly it was Justin who did the eating. He didn’t eat that fast, but he didn’t stop either, or even slow down. By the time Sharon had finished her third slice both large boxes were empty.

  ‘Wanna play some pool?’

  Nah, I wanna talk about the stuff I stole. I wanna talk about how I can help. ‘I’m not very good.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  Yeah it does. Everything matters. Don’t think I don’t get that. Go on, ask me how many suburbs I did. Ask me about running away. Let me tell you about the cops. Let me make you laugh. You look good, when you laugh. ‘Okay then.’

  ‘Rules are different, because you can’t get round the table. So if you get a shot from that side you can call a double shot. Get it?’

  Yeah, I get it. I’m not thick you know. Don’t get why Simon went out though. Don’t get why you’re not mentioning the bag. Look, we’re playing pool and I’m still fucken wearing it. You have to have noticed. ‘Sure.’

  There were other special rules too, that Justin kept pulling out. Sharon tried to let him win, and got the feeling he was doing the same.

  Then they talked, same as they’d talked the other time. Justin had a way of bending conversations round, so they didn’t go anywhere in particular, and most times that would have been good, except half Sharon’s head was with Simon, and when he’d be back, and what he’d say when he saw she’d passed the test.

  He got in just after ten. They were in the kitchen by then, eating ice-cream straight out of the container. He brought the smell of beer in with him but his walk was steady and his voice sharp.

  ‘Any left?’ He looked at the empty pizza boxes by the rubbish bag. The room suddenly felt crowded and instinct told Sharon she should be standing. Simon stared at her as she pushed her chair back behind her.

  ‘Didn’t know you wanted any,’ Justin s
aid, and Sharon thought she noticed him back away slightly, till the bench stopped him going any further.

  ‘What are you still doing here?’ Simon turned to Sharon. She waited for Justin to rescue her, answer on her behalf, but the only sound was her swallowing hard. He was the stranger again, the one from the park, and again she felt the warning, louder this time, with him so close.

  ‘Um, I’m Sharon.’ She leant back against her chair. She could see straight off that every word was making her mistake bigger but she couldn’t stop talking. ‘Here, I brought this. The mail I stole. You know, as a test. Coloured envelopes mostly, like you said, and some parcels. Easy. I can help you. You won’t regret it.’

  She held out the bag but he didn’t take it. He didn’t even look at her, his glare went straight to Justin. Sharon recognised the danger in the silence. It wasn’t so new. She looked to Justin, nervous, but Justin didn’t look back.

  ‘What have you been saying now, you fucken little idiot?’ Simon managed to shout without being loud. His eyes jumped back onto Sharon. ‘Go on, get out. You never heard anything about any of this. You understand?’

  Sharon tried to nod but her head wouldn’t move.

  ‘I said do you fucken understand?’ This time she managed a quick jerking movement, only it didn’t feel like her head at all. It was an unfamiliar weight on her shoulders, in this unfamiliar room. She wanted out, wanted it so badly she didn’t even think about Justin and what this had to mean for him. Not till she saw him, still trying to press back through the kitchen bench.

  ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed but Simon caught the sound before it reached her.

  ‘You fucken will be boy. You bet you fucken will be.’