by Emmy Ellis
Rather than let it get to her, she turned left out of the front garden and made her way to number eighteen, Nan’s. At least she was pleased to see her, smiling away.
“Come on in. I’ve got something I want to show you.” Her hair, a grey fluffy cloud, had curls the same as Quavers. “Remember those flowers in that story I read you the other week?” Nan gently pushed Rebecca down the hallway and into the living room. “I bought a couple.”
Rebecca remembered all right. The tale had tiny fairies in it, and they lived inside the bowl of an orchid’s centre, and when they had to go out and fly around, they sat on their bums and scooted down the petals as if they were slides. At the time, Rebecca had wished she was a fairy and had nothing to worry about except flying and sparkling, putting a tutu on, and meeting up with the butterflies at the lake.
Nan drew her to the windowsill, and a red-purple orchid stood proud inside a white pot, and beside it, a pale one, their stems held up with little clips around wooden sticks jutting out of the soil. Rebecca touched a petal, so soft, and wanted a flower of her own.
“I got one for you,” Nan said. “Which one do you like best?”
Rebecca’s smile hurt her face, and she pointed to the purple.
“There’s a little booklet for you, too, on how to care for it.” Nan handed it over. “They can be contrary buggers, these orchids, so mind you don’t kill it.”
Rebecca didn’t want to kill anything ever again, Mrs Didders was enough. She stuffed the booklet in her pocket with the keys, the need to cry taking over. She fisted her eyes, wishing she could live with Nan, but Mum had said no when it was suggested before.
Nan had shouted, “It’s not as if you even like the two little ones, so what difference would it make if I cared for them?”
“Because they’re mine, and they’re important.” Mum’s cheeks had gone red.
“It never seems that way.”
They were important, but not how kids were supposed to be. They were important to the gang. No one suspected little fingers of stealing things from handbags.
Rebecca pushed the memory aside. “Thanks, Nan.”
The chocolate biscuits and pink lemonade completed the visit, but it was brought to an abrupt end by Mum phoning, asking if Rebecca was there. She had to go, Benny would want the car keys, but she wouldn’t worry about getting told off once she got home. She had an orchid, and that would make everything better.
Chapter Ten
The morning sun said hello with force, beaming down, scorching, even at this early hour, the air humid, the kind that screamed for rain, but according to the weatherman, none was forthcoming until the end of next week. Relentless sunshine all the way, so he’d said on breakfast TV, clicking the handheld button that changed the images on the screen on the virtual map, cartoon suns all over it.
Orchid was knackered. She’d only slept in Martin’s spare room for an hour, although it was enough of a power nap for her to be alert now. She already envisaged a kip this afternoon, one beneath an open window, a fan blasting in her face—she’d collected three from her flat when George had gone with her to pack a few things, as Martin only had one, and he carted it between the living room and his bedroom, as and when, although he’d said he’d buy another, “If Argos hasn’t bloody sold out.”
She waited on the packed station platform with him, the pair of them wedged in the middle of a pressing crowd—lots of sweaty bare arms brushing hers, moisture on faces, beads of it on upper lips, and hair sticking to the backs of necks. It was enough for her to want to scurry home, as well as the pecking nerves at the idea of seeing Will again. What if he brought Benny with him, or worse, Mum? The last thing she needed was those two barrelling down on her, Benny scowling, Mum calling her a fucking bitch, her blazing eyes obscured by her over-large sunglasses, Orchid’s face reflected in the lenses, her own sunglasses just as big.
She shuddered.
The Brothers currently hid behind the rear line of antsy commuters, watching in case that very thing happened, but what were they going to do, shoot Mum and Benny? She couldn’t imagine the outcome of that. With the density of people, who had all decided going on a journey today was the grandest idea they’d ever had, an innocent person might cop it, and they risked the police getting involved.
There was a silver lining, though, one that had glowed brightly. After she’d finished a coffee and had scuttled from Martin’s flat with the others, moving out into the daylight then into George’s fake taxi, she’d been told the latest bulletin about her strange life. The balaclava men were gone now, and Anthony—thank God, Anthony—although she hadn’t enjoyed George’s story about them on the way here as much as he evidently had. He’d grinned and laughed, a weird glint in his mad-as-eff eyes. Greg had told him to calm his tits, but George had carried on, giving her all the gory details of heads exploding and Anthony’s knee receiving a bullet, then his head had gained a new hole, too. Martin had turned puce, swallowing a lot, so the tale hadn’t gone down too well with him either, or it could have been his scrambled eggs not agreeing with him.
She’d never understand how some people got pleasure out of hurting or killing, how they didn’t seem to feel guilty about it, like George, who behaved as if it were a normal affair, going around bumping folks off. She’d carry the death of Mrs Didders to her own grave, and that—
Orchid stumbled from a man nudging the top of her arm with his bony, clammy elbow, their skin sticking together for grim instant, and it created a Mexican-type wave, minus hands held high and the mandatory excited cheer, everyone swaying to one side then back again. Somebody shouted “Dickhead!”, and another mumbled, “Fucking bitch.” She thought about offering a sorry in return, but it hadn’t been her fault, so she kept her mouth shut.
That was the trouble with the UK. Too many apologies when the error stood firmly at someone else’s size nines. She should concentrate on being contrite about the things she had done, even if it was only penance in her head, where nightmares roamed, reminding her of what she’d done.
“All right?” Martin adjusted his these-are-not-really Ray-Bans and folded his arms, which were getting a bit of definition since he’d been going to the gym regularly. He wasn’t the same skinny homeless man she’d first met.
She got the idea his query wasn’t regarding the jostle but more her state of mind at Will coming, so she answered accordingly. “It’s weird, but although he’s my brother, it feels like…I don’t know, that things won’t be the same when I see him. What if he’s really changed?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Time apart, you’ll both have changed. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts. I bet he’s wondering how he’ll fit into your life here. You’ve made friends, he hasn’t, and he’ll have to get to know yours or make his own. It’s daunting, and I should know. Well, you do, too.” He paused. Sighed. “Experiences shape you, don’t they. Life throws you down different paths, and just when you’re at the end of your tether and you think you can’t take any more, shit goes right. He’s probably at the end of his, and coming here is his time for things to go right.”
She nodded absently. I thought the same when I moved down here, but things aren’t right now, are they. “He’s stayed on the same one, I’ll bet—the path, I mean. He’ll have been too scared to do anything else, and that’s what’s bothering me. Why did he agree to come down so quickly? What happened to get him on that train, so early, too? He caught the one just after six, so if he’d been on a job, he wouldn’t have had any sleep.”
“You’d leave quickly, too, though, wouldn’t you, if you had the idea a better life was in the offing?”
“I did, although I didn’t know it was a better life at the time, but anything is preferable to that.”
“How come you ran away?” Martin looked down at his feet, barely visible in the crush.
“What I was doing wasn’t good.” She lowered her voice and leant across so others didn’t hear. “Stealing, stuff like that.” She’d keep the word �
�murder’ to herself.
“Same.”
He hadn’t told her his story after The Brothers had left them to go to Leonardo’s, they’d watched a film, then, time dragging by, she’d eventually contacted Will, surprised as anything that he’d written back so fast. He’d have been on a job, or awake from having done one, and his response and assurance he wouldn’t tell anyone where he was going had put her mind at rest at the time. Since then, once she’d told the twins, and George had messaged back to ask if she thought Will would lie, bringing someone with him anyway, the seed had grown roots as she’d drifted to sleep, which wormed their way into the what-if part of her brain and wiggled every now and then to remind her they were still there, striving for purchase.
The rumble of an incoming train had her stomach rolling over, and she clenched her hands into fists rather than grab Martin and hold his arm. She didn’t think he’d mind, but still. People surged forward ready to board, taking her with them, and she lost her place beside him. Panic set in, an overwhelming swoop throughout her body—I’m an easy target now—and she turned her head to catch sight of The Brothers, but they were as invisible to her as Martin. She scanned the sea of faces, varying expressions on show for those without sunglasses, no one catching her eye, no one acting as if they pretended they weren’t watching her, when, in fact, they were—no, those types of people would have their eyes covered.
The train drew in, a grand entrance whoosh then a slowing hiss, and she spun round as it stopped, squeaky brakes sending a short, piercing whine into the stuffy air. There weren’t many on board, and some remained seated, as if reluctant to disembark and continue their journey to the many places in London, weary perhaps, of the commute, or of the idea they had to battle to leave the carriage, longing for the weekend, even though the week had to be slogged through first.
The platform crowd eased back, various groans and sighs accompanying their fluid movement. Their ahhs of disappointment all merged into one at them seeing it wasn’t their train but another that was due close to this one, and at last she had more space around her, more air to breathe, a tad fresher without the cloying scent of several aftershaves, perfumes, and deodorants, and the thick atmosphere created by so many close bodies.
The doors opened, and she stared through the window of the nearest carriage. No Will. She peered along at other doors and spotted him stepping off, pushing against the tide, a swarm of people trying to get on, unable, it seemed, to wait their turn, unable to engage in politeness, their need more important than any other.
No one she recognised was with him, but that didn’t mean anything, did it. They could be getting off after him, or had travelled in another carriage altogether, ready to follow them to Martin’s flat. Benny could have organised for a stranger to come, and she wouldn’t know any different until they caught up with her and dragged her back to Birmingham. He’d sent Anthony down here, so what was to stop him doing the same now?
She moved through the bodies, desperate not to touch any of them, desperate to reach him and see if he still cared for her. The itch of a query joined those roots in her mind, asking: Does he know Anthony came? Does he know those men were after me? Was Anthony telling the truth that only him and Benny knew?
“Will,” she called, up on her tiptoes and waving one arm, the sight of his dear face bringing on stinging eyes, and she thought of the child he once was, his dream of being a doctor, all gone now, and his delight at getting her comics after she’d finished reading them, heedless of the dogeared pages, just glad to look at the cartoon pictures, trying with all his might to spell out the words beneath. Her little brother. “Will! Over here!” He wouldn’t recognise her voice as she’d disguised her Birmingham accent.
He whipped his head around in her direction, frowning, and he was a few inches taller than when she’d last seen him, his eyes darting right and left, then finding her. A smile lit up his face, and he barged forward, into people, around people—“Please, move out of the way, that’s my sister…”—It’s going to be okay, he’s happy to see me—and he reached her, enveloping her in his arms.
“God, I’ve missed you, sis,” he said into her hair, a choke to his voice.
She held him tight, letting the tears fall, feeling so at home, at peace with her best sibling, and for a moment, she allowed the idea he wasn’t alone to fall by the wayside so she could have these precious few seconds where nothing bad was happening. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Memories, a rush of them, entered her head. Mum coming at him with the slipper and Orchid telling her it wasn’t him who’d done wrong it was her, so she got the slaps instead. Sitting in the living room, the murmur of voices from the kitchen coming through, and Will saying, “It’s another job, isn’t it? I don’t like being naughty.” Them running round Nan’s that time, when Benny had a right old go at Mum and punched her face, and they didn’t breathe a word, pretending they’d just come for a visit, to drink the pink lemonade and eat the chocolate biscuits.
She pulled away first and took his hand, edging through the thinner melee now a few had got on the train, and those who’d got off rushed towards their new destination. Others stepped closer to the platform for the next train, the one they’d been after all along, and at the back, blessed space, and The Brothers with Martin, standing in a line of solidarity.
“Don’t talk just yet,” she told Will. “Follow us, no questions.”
“Why are you speaking like that?”
“I have to, to blend in.”
He spotted the twins and Martin, his eyes narrowing, a touch of fear clouding his features. “What…?”
“It’s fine. They’re good people.” Although that could be debated, depending on whether you thought killing made you a decent sort. “Please, just come with us. And call me Sunflower, okay?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Don’t ask… Shh, now.”
George studied Will as if searching for a reason to doubt him. He nodded—Will must have passed his test—then led the way, Martin beside him, then Orchid and Will, and Greg brought up the rear, his gun hidden by his suit jacket, but knowing it was there was enough to propel Orchid along, trusting him to look after them. She kept hold of Will’s hand, his fingers tightening between hers, as if now he’d found her he didn’t want to let her go in case she disappeared on him again. Guilt gave her a poke in the gut, as hard as Anthony’s prod in her back, and she squeezed Will’s fingers in return.
Once they were inside the taxi, she let out a ragged breath and shifted over so Will and Martin had more room. She felt safer now, the windows and doors keeping any element of danger away, a barrier between her and anyone who may have come with Will. Yet she didn’t really think that, not now. He’d run from Birmingham just like she had.
George drove off and fixed his stare on Will in the rearview. “I’ll leave your sister to explain everything once we get to where we’re going, but I’m George, and this is Greg.” He jerked a thumb at the passenger seat, almost taking Greg’s eye out. “Martin, the fella beside you, works for us, and no one other than us lot knows what’s happened, or what’s going to happen. You’re now a part of ‘us lot’.”
Will swallowed. “Right…” He whispered to Orchid, “What the hell have you got yourself into? He sounds worse than Benny.”
She smiled and held back a laugh. “Honestly, it’s fine. Or it will be.”
“Why did you need me down here?” he asked.
“Because things have been going on, and it’s clear Benny isn’t going to forget I exist—your text let me know that, and get this, he sent Anthony down here to find me.”
“Shit, he said Anthony had gone missing. Has he been causing trouble? I haven’t heard him talking to Mum about it, not since… Look, this has been bothering me, and it’s my fault if… Benny got Mum to ask me where you were, and she promised she wouldn’t tell him, but she did.”
“It doesn’t matter. I know how those two work. I’ll tell you everything when we’re back
at Martin’s flat. I live by him.”
“Your own flat? Blimey. Can I doss at yours for a bit?”
“Of course you bloody can. But I’m staying at Martin’s, so you’ll have to be there, too. Probably the sofa, but it’s only until… Well, until we don’t have to worry anymore.”
Will’s eyebrows went up. “Are you and him…?”
“No.” She shoulder-barged him. “We’re only neighbours. So what have you been up to? Same old?”
“Yeah. Last night’s job… I can’t stand it anymore, Beck, hence me coming here.”
Her heart thudded. “Don’t call me Beck. It’s Sunflower until everything’s sorted.”
“Okay…” He blinked, maybe finding it hard to take that in, why she hadn’t picked a normal name like Susan. “I had a conversation with Benny, and he said ‘all the girls’ had flower names. So it is true? You sell sex?”
“You do what you have to, to get by.”
“I’m not judging. Going back to what we were saying. I was going to come anyway, before you asked. Things went tits up—Len this time—and I don’t want anything to do with it. I bet it gets on the telly and everything.”
God, what had Len done? Did she want to know?
Will ploughed on. “Benny’s been having a mare about Anthony disappearing, said he should have got permission to go off, especially with that job so close, but he was lying all this time? We managed it without him, but Benny still—”
“Don’t worry about Anthony.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s one of the things I’ll tell you.”
They chatted about nonsensical stuff while George drove here, there, and everywhere to get rid of any tails, Orchid steering the subject so Will didn’t stray to asking questions. He told her Mrs Florin had died, old age, nothing to do with powder, and they’d laughed at that, albeit nervously, guilt edging the dips and swells of sound, but if you didn’t laugh at monstrosities, you’d go mad.