by S. J. Morgan
Minto let out a guffaw as he sparked up the engine. ‘Don’t worry your pretty little head,’ he said. ‘Y’man is quite safe with me.’ And he put his foot on the gas before Daniella had time to argue.
We pulled up not too far from the house and Minto eased back in his seat as soon as he switched off the engine. The squeak of the vinyl seemed to underline the threat of his weight and bulk.
‘Things seem to have soured between us, Alec,’ he said. ‘And I don’t know why that is. Do you?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
There was a silence, and as usual, I felt obliged to fill it. ‘I still consider you a…friend,’ I said.
‘Trouble is, it was someone I considered a friend who, it turns out, set up the drugs-bust,’ he said. ‘And the sort of person who gets the wrong idea about my chemical dealings might also get the wrong idea about Sindy. And that wouldn’t do, would it? I mean, we wouldn’t want anyone messing things up for Sindy: she relies on me.’
He smelt of stale smoke and aftershave and, hearing him talk about Sindy made me want to whack his face against the dashboard.
‘If you think I’m going to turn you in or something, I’m not,’ I said. ‘What you do is up to you. I’m moving out – we don’t need to have any more to do with each other. That’s it, as far as I’m concerned. But I don’t want you contacting my family or my friends – and I won’t go near you and yours.’
He watched me, like he was sizing up just how much shit he could squeeze out of me. His smirk morphed into a chortle. He slapped a hand against his leather-clad thigh like I was the latest in in-car entertainment. ‘Quite the little speech for one so timid.’
‘I mean it,’ I said – and the way my voice shook, I couldn’t have sounded less like I meant it if I’d tried.
He leaned an arm across the back of my chair. ‘Here’s the thing, Alec. We don’t like each other, not really. I gave you the chance to be one of us but no, you seemed to think you were destined for better things.’ He looked off to the side, as if he couldn’t keep a straight face. ‘Trouble is, as you know, in my book, if you’re not with us you’re against us. And I have to say, I like things to go my way; I don’t cope well with... disappointment. I don’t like people interfering with my happiness, my goals. You know what I’m saying? Keep on side with me, and I’ll do everything I can to help you, yeah?’ He smiled but leaned over and jabbed a finger in my chest. ‘But, fuck me over, Alec and you’ll regret it. You’ll pay for it in whatever way I see fit, whether that’s through your meek little band of loser friends or through that no-hope family of yours. But one way or another, you’ll wish you’d kept me as a friend. Do we understand each other, Alec?’
I nodded. ‘Stay away from me,’ I said, ‘and sure, I’ll stay away from you.’
He offered a slow, considered nod. ‘I think that’s a fair summary of the situation.’ He opened the door and when he got out, I felt the suspension lift. He leaned on the open door, looking back at me. ‘And when we say we’ll keep away from each other, that includes you keeping away from Sindy, comprendez?’
‘She’s always the one who comes looking for – ‘
‘Comprendez, Alec?’
I nodded.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Because if I find you so much as looking at her again, I’ll rip your fucking throat out.’ He slammed the door so hard, the whole car rocked. By the time I dared risk a glance in the mirror, he’d already disappeared.
Chapter 29
I gave Minto a very wide berth after his little chat to me that day, divvying up my time between Daniella’s and Mum and Dad’s. But I couldn’t really settle, wherever I was, and I started to wonder if that was ever going to change, even once I’d moved. After all, would Minto truly let me go, or would he keep tabs on me from afar; follow me with those beady eyes of his regardless of where I went?
I had no choice but to go back to the flat the night before I was shifting. The bits of packing I’d done were patchy and haphazard; I needed to make sure I took everything with me. There was no way I’d want to make a return trip and beg Minto for something vital I’d left behind.
Howling gales and lashing rain accompanied my last night and even that felt ominous. Minto and his crew rolled home around three a.m. and after that, it felt as wild inside as it sounded outside. I kept a table against my door and a pillow over my head, hoping to God they didn’t realise I was home.
We’d managed to squeeze everything into Daniella’s car. My belongings were so tightly packed, I didn’t need to worry about breakages: there simply wasn’t room for anything to shift in transit.
I left Daniella by the car while I went back in to give the room a final once over.
I got to the top of the stairs and found Minto standing outside my door, his big arms folded across his even bigger chest.
‘Ready for the off, I see,’ he said.
‘Yup. I didn’t want to disturb you all: I heard you get in pretty late.’
‘That’s thoughtful of you, Alec,’ he said.
He was still standing there like a bouncer outside my room, blocking my way.
I stuck out my hand. ‘Well, all the best, mate,’ I said. ‘It’s been a blast, hasn’t it? I’ll see you around no doubt.’
‘Oh, certainly no doubt about that,’ he said, ignoring my outstretched hand.
There was a difficult pause. I waited. Then waited some more. ‘Say cheerio to the others for me, won’t you?’ I said. I gave him a friendly smile and stuck my hands back in my pockets. ‘Right,’ I said, nodding at my door. ‘I’d better check I’ve cleared everything out.’
Our eyes met when he made no attempt to move.
Next thing, he had me in a headlock and was squeezing hard. I couldn’t speak, could barely stay on my feet. Spit was dribbling from the corner of my mouth and I couldn’t swallow. His gripped tightened and, for a second, I thought my neck was about to snap. But as the thought hit me, I was wheeled around and flung against the far wall, whacking the side of my face as I dropped to the floor.
I covered my head: I’d seen Minto’s favourite moves. And I wasn’t wrong. A searing pain shot through my ear as his boot found a way through.
‘Minto! No! Don’t!’ I heard.
I thought it was Daniella but as I opened an eye, I recognised Sindy’s slippers hurrying through the hall.
I tried to get to my feet but realised he had a boot on my thigh, keeping me down.
‘Get back in the bedroom, you little cunt.’
‘But –’
‘Do you want to make things worse?’ he shouted, pressing his boot down. ‘Do you?’
I saw her furry feet turn then heard the slam of a door.
I was forced upright and suddenly Minto’s face was in mine. ‘Just so you know,’ he said. ‘I’m watching you and I’ll always be watching you.’
‘I got it,’ I said, trying to back away. ‘I got it.’
‘I hope you have, Alec.’
He drew back his head and my world went black. I was aware only of noises, of far-away sounds. Another door-slam and the whoosh-whoosh of blood through my ears. Daniella’s voice.
‘Alec? Oh my God, Alec!’
I tried to open my eyes, but the lids were wet and sticky
‘What happened? Oh, God. Let’s get you up. Shall I get an ambulance?’
‘No.’
A key-turn and footsteps. I couldn’t tell if it was right beside me or out in the street.
‘Get him out of here,’ Minto said.
‘You...did this to him?’
I was aware that Daniella was getting to her feet. I could do no more than grip onto her ankle, silently pleading with her to shut her mouth.
‘Get him out of here. Don’t make me say it again.’
Daniella’s ankle was suddenly wrenched from my hand and when I heard her yelp, I knew he had her by the throat. I scrabbled to my knees but collapsed again as Daniella fell against me.
‘Remember,’ Minto said to u
s. ‘I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. Everywhere. You understand?’
I nodded, praying Daniella was doing the same.
He turned back to his room and closed the door, the fond farewell finally at an end.
Chapter 30
Even though I had a new place to escape to, Daniella and I were too shaken up to contemplate being anywhere near Swansea for the weekend. As soon as we’d dumped my belongings in my empty room, Daniella drove us to her student digs in Bristol.
The next few days was an odd existence. I was an invited guest, but I didn’t feel at home. I knew Daniella was glad I was free of Swansea, temporarily at least, but I don’t think she felt secure having me around. Perhaps I shouldn’t have admitted what had happened at the clubhouse; about the thumb squeeze to join them. She seemed weird about it; like it was somehow my fault. I guess she felt it should never have got to that stage and she was probably right but the whole Minto infiltration had been so insidious: it had got out of hand so quickly. When I’d first moved in, along with Stobes and Black, Minto had seemed rough and ready, all bark and no bite. It had never occurred to me that he was part of any underworld; that his bark and bite were just the precursors to a far more threatening form of attack. Now though, I had no illusions.
As the week wore on, I sensed my resolve to return to Swansea waning. The small-town nature of the place – which had previously made me feel safe, or at least part of something safe – now felt menacing, intimidating. Every bar was a potential fight site, the streets patrolled by enemies. Every incline, every corner was freshly tarred with suspicion and risk, as if it had become my own personal warzone.
I sensed Daniella’s discomfort too and knew her worry increased with each passing day. By the following Sunday, I sensed I had to give her some space. I figured Mum and Dad’s would form a neat airlock before gathering my courage and my strength to head back to Swansea.
The house was quiet when I walked in, no off-tune radio hissing at me from the kitchen, no canned laughter from the telly in the living room. I leaned over the banister and called up the stairs: ‘Hello? Mum?’
When no one came to give me a welcome, I left my bag in the hall but kept my jacket on. I felt the radiator: there was no tick-tick of heated water and the metal was cold against my fingers. Strange – even if they were out, Mum always liked to have the house warm for when she got back. I shouted upstairs again but the same silence as before bounced back at me.
I pottered about for an hour, making a drink and fixing myself something to eat. The football scores in the paper kept me occupied for a while then I watched a bit of telly until it got dark. I’d expected them to be back by then, from wherever they’d disappeared. Once all the God-squad programmes came on, I decided I should check their bedroom, see if there was a clue to where they’d disappeared.
It looked the same as always: bedspread turned down, cupboards shut, surfaces dust-free, everything in its place. Yet the main light was on. And when I stepped further into the room, my shoe scraped against something on the floor. I bent down. The corner of a suitcase was sticking out from beneath the bed, like it had been hiding. I kicked it further under and went over to the window. Another odd thing: the curtains were drawn and when I checked, all the windows were shut even though Mum always insisted on keeping a few ajar to stop what she called ‘the stale smell of indoors.’
I turned around, surveying the room. I couldn’t figure where the hell they both were.
The spare room was the same shambles it had been the last time I was home. If anything, it looked fuller; even more crazed. As I stood there with my head poked around the door, I knew that if anything had changed or was out of place, I was never going to spot it in there, so I closed up and went along the landing.
That’s when I saw a single line of light beneath the bathroom door.
I stood there, contemplating.
‘Anyone in there?’ I knocked on the door. ‘Dad? Are you there?’
Nada. Not even the sound of a dripping tap.
I sucked in a breath and knocked again. ‘Hello? I’m coming in. Okay?’
In my mind, I put my shoulder against the door and forced it open. But in reality, I stood listening to the silence, not knowing what to do.
‘Here I come, all right?’ I shouted, banging the palm of my hand against the door.
I turned the doorknob and shoved the door open.
My entrance was so forceful that I tripped on the bathmat and nearly put my face through the shower door. Yet even as I shot into the room, I felt I could breathe again at finding no one in there. Yes, the lights might well have been on, but no one was home.
By the time I’d finished searching the whole house and garage, I’d managed to piece together some scraps of information. There was a light on at the back of the house, courtesy of the bathroom and one at the front in their bedroom where the curtains were closed. The car had gone from the garage and there were a couple of unwashed cups in the sink. The curtains and lights suggested they’d gone away, at least overnight. The closed windows pointed to some forethought and organisation, but the unwashed cups? They made me rethink: Mum left nothing unwashed. No way would she ever leave dirty cups in the sink if an overnight trip was on the cards.
Still, given the lack of bodies and bloodstains in the house, I figured I could wait another day to find out. I put my empty beer bottles on the draining board and headed off to bed.
It was the creak of the kitchen door that woke me. I’d slept like a brick all night and it took me a few minutes to work out where I was. At least they were home, judging by the noises downstairs. I needed the bog, so I clambered out of bed, had a pee and went to let Mum know I was in residence.
What I expected to see was her standing at the sink. Instead, what I found was Bill from next door, putting on his glasses and peering at some envelopes in his hand. His head flicked up. ‘Oh! Alexander!’ He put a hand on his chest – then on the chair – to steady himself. ‘Good lord, I didn’t know anyone was here.’
‘Likewise.’
He regarded my near nakedness. ‘I take it you didn’t tell your mum and dad you were coming?’
‘It was a spur of the moment decision.’
Bill looked back at the letters and nodded. He was all right, Bill; a bit doddery and hard of hearing but who wouldn’t be at a hundred and ninety?
‘So, where are they?’ I asked him.
‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ he said, placing the envelopes into three neat piles. Always been a stickler for order, had Bill. ‘Your Mum popped round and said they needed to go up to...’ His brow furrowed, and he looked up at the ceiling. ‘Southsea?’
‘Southsea?’
‘Somewhere like that,’ he said.
‘Not Swansea?’ I said, looking at him.
‘Yes! Swansea, it was,’ he said.
‘Oh. Crap.’
‘Nothing wrong, is there?’
‘It’s fine,’ I told him. ‘I’d better try and get hold of them.’
‘They seemed to be in a tearing rush, so I just said I’d pop in, make sure everything was all right till they came back. Still, now you’re here...’
‘I won’t be staying,’ I said. ‘I’d better head back.’
‘Where are you living now?’
‘Swansea.’
‘Nice,’ he said, nodding.
And as far as I know, the penny never did drop.
Chapter 31
Mumbles looked completely different in the rain: the wind swept in straight from the bay and all those shop fronts that had seemed so welcoming in the sunshine now looked grim, with their grey stone walls hunkered down against potential invaders.
The only bright spots on the strip were the pubs, but even their welcomes were half-hidden by the salt-smeared windows. There were so many choices along the main drag: The Pilot, The Mermaid, The Antelope and they were just precursors to lots more hostelry options – ‘barely time for a belch between bars’, as Minto liked to say.
&nbs
p; The reminder of him gave me instant gut ache and I turned up a set of steep concrete steps that led to Seaview Terrace and all its bed and breakfast signs. The light was already fading, even though we were probably only halfway through the afternoon. It had been quite a trek. A train ride from Mum’s; a coach to Swansea and a bus ride to my new abode. That’s when I found the message that Mum and Dad were in Mumbles, so it was yet another bus ride from there.
There was no obvious sequence to the house numbers, and I found myself filtering out the numbers and just scouring the lanes for a place called Esther’s. That’s where they were staying according to the message they’d left on my door.
I stumbled upon it almost by accident and I threw open the door, anxious to find out what my folks were playing at. They never ‘took off’ on holiday. Anything involving suitcases and accommodation was definitely off the spontaneity-radar. The only reason I could imagine was that maybe they’d come for a stickybeak at my new digs; make sure I really was away from Minto.
A jingling bell announced my arrival and, even this late in the day, the smell of eggs and bacon hung over the reception area. I bumped a hand on the bell, and it sent a woman hurrying in my direction from upstairs. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’
Even before I’d explained, I recognised Mum’s slippered feet coming down the stairs. ‘There you are!’ she said, pulling me into a hug as she reached me. ‘We couldn’t think where to look for you!’
‘What’s going on?’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’
‘Come on up,’ Mum said, lowering her voice and glancing at the receptionist.
We’d only got as far as the landing before she started unloading. ‘We didn’t know what to do,’ she said. ‘We couldn’t get much joy from your new place. No one seemed to know where you were. I mean, we realised you might be at Daniella’s, but we had no way of getting in touch with her. In the end, we had no choice but to come in the car and…’
