‘What are we talking about?’ Tyler said. ‘Has he hit you?’
‘Not me, Mum.’ Flick’s eyes were welling up. ‘Not that she’d ever admit anything was wrong with her perfect marriage, of course. Mum comes from a world where keeping up appearances is still a thing. Where it matters what people think of you. That’s why I’m in this place. She doesn’t give a shit about me or my education, just wants her army-wife pals to know she can afford a crazy expensive school for her beloved daughter. It’s so cringy. She’s utterly neurotic, scrambling around the whole time trying to keep her perfect life together, when it obviously fell apart years ago.’
‘Sounds tough.’
‘Oh, she has her coping mechanisms. The good thing about travelling to lots of war-torn, third-world countries is the availability of top-class pharmaceuticals, no questions asked. Uppers and downers and everything in between, all washed down with the best wines you can buy in Afghanistan, which are quite decent, apparently.’
Tyler rubbed his neck before speaking. ‘I notice you like a drop of wine yourself.’
He could feel her tense up. ‘Meaning?’
He put his hands out in supplication. ‘I don’t mean anything.’
‘Out with it.’
He thought for a long moment. ‘It’s just, what you said about your mum. I know what booze and smack has done to my mum, and that’s why I stay the fuck away.’
‘I’m nothing like my mother,’ Flick said.
‘I didn’t say you were.’
‘Good.’
The silence seemed bigger in the expanse of the church. Awkward. Tyler didn’t know why he’d brought it up. Flick unnerved him more than any girl at his school, more than anyone he ever met.
‘Is that why you called me up in the middle of the night?’ Flick said. ‘To scold me about my drinking?’
‘I just needed to see you.’
‘And it couldn’t wait till morning.’
‘You didn’t have to say yes.’
She looked around. ‘That’s right, I didn’t, but I like you and I thought you liked me.’
‘It’s pretty obvious I like you,’ Tyler said.
Silence, then a wooden creak somewhere. Tyler looked up but it was just the chapel breathing.
‘Do you believe in God?’ he said, staring at the cross in the nave.
Flick lifted her shoulders. ‘I believe in something. Not some old guy in a cloud, but karma, maybe. Like, be good to people, try to do the right thing, and good things will happen back to you.’
Tyler stared at the cross. ‘You really believe that?’
‘Why not?’
‘Maybe you think that because you’ve had a lot of good things happen in your life.’
Flick angled her head and frowned. ‘I’ve had my fair share of shit things, as discussed.’
Tyler waved a hand around the chapel. ‘You’re doing all right.’
Flick took her arm away from his. ‘You know, I’ve spent my whole life defending the fact my parents have money. I’ve been lucky, I’m privileged, so what? Doesn’t mean I don’t get depressed and suicidal sometimes. I don’t need this shit from you.’
Tyler looked her in the eye. ‘Suicidal?’
She looked away. ‘I’ve never … you know. But I’ve thought about it. As a way out.’
‘A way out,’ Tyler said. He thought about that. That’s what he needed, a way out of all this.
‘I mean, I’m not about to top myself, but I get really down sometimes. Just about everyday shit, you know? Abandonment issues, pathetic daddy issues, my mum being a bitch, all the backstabbing shit that goes on around here. Honestly, rich girls are the worst. And the boys, my God, they’re awful. So much entitlement.’
Tyler laughed at her tirade. ‘Sounds like it’s worth thirty grand a year.’
‘How do you know how much the fees are?’
‘I looked it up on the way here.’
‘The fees are the saddest thing about this place,’ Flick said.
Something in the air had loosened. They weren’t fighting anymore, if they had been earlier.
Tyler looked her in the eye. ‘So this karma thing. If I’ve done something bad, I can expect bad things to happen to me?’
Flick put a hand on his knee. ‘I don’t know, it’s just an idea. You’re a good person, Tyler.’
‘You don’t know that.’
She took his hand in her lap. ‘Yes, I do.’
He examined their hands together. Her nails were shiny, perfect curves, and her fingers were long and thin, freckles sprayed across the knuckles.
He looked around the chapel, a huge organ at one end, plaques covering the wall behind the pews. It smelt of old wood and polish.
‘You know, I think this is the first time I’ve been inside a church in my life,’ he said.
‘Really? You lucky sod. We come every Sunday morning for service. It’s unbelievably boring.’
‘I can’t imagine having a church in my school.’
Flick shook her head. ‘They love all that shit here. Bringing us up in the correct manner.’ She put on a pompous voice. ‘So that we can be fully rounded citizens and contributors to society.’
Tyler pressed his lips together. ‘But you’re hidden away behind the walls in your own bubble, with your music studio and hockey pitches. I know guys from Mussy and they think you’re an alien race or something, a bunch of snobs who never mix with the locals.’
Flick removed her hand from his. ‘Do you blame us? Every time I walk down the High Street in my uniform I get catcalls and whistles from builders and workmen, teenage boys calling me a posh whore or a bitch or a fucking cunt, women staring at me like I’m running down the street naked trying to steal their men. I have friends who’ve been assaulted just for going to Inveresk.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything.’
He felt the chill in the air, the cold wood under him.
She stared at him. ‘Is that what you think? That I’m a snob, a posh bitch? Are we back to the poverty safari thing again?’
Tyler shook his head. ‘Of course not, I’m sorry.’ He waved his hand around. ‘I’m just not used to any of this. I’m not used to girls like you.’
The look in her eyes softened a little, but there was still tension in the air.
Eventually Flick spoke. ‘I come here by myself late at night. That’s why I thought to bring you here when you called. Sometimes in Almond House, it’s chaos. So much noise, everyone shouting and screaming all the time, thirty girls at once. It’s hard to get a moment’s peace.’
Tyler wanted to reach out and touch her hand, but he was scared to.
Flick stuck the tip of her tongue between her teeth, sucked in. ‘You know, in the Middle Ages you could ask for sanctuary in churches. They were supposed to be places to escape persecution and hurt. You could hide out in a church and no one was allowed to come in and take you.’
‘I like that.’
‘This is my sanctuary.’ Flick turned her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Even if I don’t believe in the big guy upstairs.’
Tyler reached out now and touched Flick’s hand. She smiled. He looked at the mosaic window.
‘Someone is in hospital,’ he said.
‘Who?’
He hesitated. ‘A friend’s mum. She was stabbed.’
‘That’s terrible, how did it happen?’
Tyler shook his head.
‘Do they know who did it?’ Flick said.
‘No.’
‘Is she going to be all right?’
‘They don’t know. She’s in a coma.’
‘I’m so sorry. Is your friend OK?’
Tyler looked up at the window, cutting up the light from the street outside into coloured pieces. He thought about the idea of sanctuary, a place to escape from the world.
‘He’s coping,’ he said.
Tyler left the rear entrance of Inveresk and walked back round Millhill towards Mussy High Street and the bus stop. He could sme
ll Flick’s perfume in his nose, could still feel the touch of her hand in his. He pondered what she’d said about her family. We’re all fucked up in our own ways. The only thing we can do is be there for each other.
He reached the wide junction by the racecourse entrance and saw car headlights behind him. He stood waiting for the car to pass before he crossed, but it slowed down to a crawl. As it got closer he saw it was a silver Skoda and he felt sick.
The car stopped in front of him and the passenger window wound down. Barry leaned over from the driver’s seat.
‘Get the fuck in this car now,’ he said.
Tyler looked around. No other cars on the road at this time of night. A faulty streetlamp was blinking on the corner, sending out a random signal for help.
He got in.
Barry spun the car with a squeal of tyres and drove left, the opposite direction from home. Tyler pulled his seatbelt on as they zipped past the racetrack and old golf course. Barry took a left at the Levenhall roundabout, down the back road out of town. They quickly ran out of houses on the left hand side, replaced by scruffy parkland and waste ground, Barry racing at sixty, the engine whining, Tyler not even daring to look round in the car.
Then Barry pumped the brakes, throwing Tyler forward in his seat, and turned left onto a dirt track full of potholes. They rumbled along the track for a few minutes, the rattle of the suspension in Tyler’s ears, then followed the path north as it narrowed. They passed a Danger No Entry sign and Tyler realised where they were going, the ash lagoons.
The track ended with a large turning circle for trucks and Barry thumped to a stop. He jumped out of the car and walked round, threw open Tyler’s door, popped his seatbelt and dragged him out by his jacket.
‘Barry, wait.’
Barry pulled him up a scrubby embankment, the pair of them staggering up the slope, then they were at the top and Tyler could see views out over the Forth. They were so close to the sea he could smell it. Even closer was a giant lagoon, grey banks of ash along its edge, a black expanse of calm water. Industry used this place as a dumping ground, tried to pass it off as a nature reserve. Signs everywhere warning about the unsteady ground underneath and deep water.
Barry yanked Tyler down across the ash, kicking grey up into their faces as they went, then they were at the water. Barry waded in, dragging Tyler behind him, then he dunked Tyler’s head under, one hand holding his jacket, the other pushing on Tyler’s head. The cold was shocking. Tyler struggled and kicked his legs but the ash gave way underneath and his footing slipped until he was horizontal. The water was gritty and grey from the stirred-up ash, Tyler scrabbling with his fingers at Barry’s hands.
He felt himself being lifted up out of the water and he gasped in air.
‘What the fuck did I tell you?’ Barry said, his voice calm.
‘What?’
‘About that posh bitch.’
‘I’m sorry.’
His head went back under and he swallowed dirty water, spluttered and coughed, felt more water slip down his throat. He kicked his legs some more, got a little purchase, but then the ash slipped from under him again.
He was hauled up, sucked in air.
‘Barry, please.’
‘It’s like I’m talking to myself,’ Barry said. ‘No cunt fucking listens.’
‘I’m sorry. I won’t see her again, I promise.’
His head went under, the water tasted of soot and scum, his fingers shook with the cold, his eyes stung. He grabbed Barry’s wrist and pulled, but his brother’s hands didn’t budge. Tyler felt the energy drain from his body, felt his lungs about to burst out of his chest. Eventually he was pulled up again.
‘It’s for your own good,’ Barry said. ‘Do you understand?’
Tyler breathed in and out, gulping in air. ‘Please, I won’t, I’m so sorry.’
Barry stood over him. ‘You’re a sorry wee cunt, right enough. Do you want to go under again?’
Tyler put his hands up. ‘I’ll listen. I’ll do what you say.’
‘You’d better,’ Barry said. ‘Or I’ll go after her next, got it?’
Tyler’s chest heaved up and down as he tried to calm his jerky breaths. Somewhere in the black sky overhead he heard geese calling to each other.
‘I’ve got it,’ he said.
26
Miss Niven was taking them through the steps for differential calculus, substitute x for x+h, subtract the original equation, single out h by algebra and the rest. Tyler would normally soak this up, immerse himself in the abstract world, but he couldn’t get into it. He was only a third of the way through the exercise when the bell went. He shuffled his stuff together and pushed it into his bag, then headed outside for morning break.
Connell was waiting at their usual corner with another kid, Ahmed from his reggie class. They were talking about a girl Ahmed fancied from the year below, how he was planning to get in there. Tyler checked his phone alerts, a few dull Instagram posts, some Hibs gossip. Then he checked the local news and froze. Clicked through to the story and scanned it, his heart thudding.
The Holts were offering a ten-grand reward for information on the stabbing. Ten fucking grand. That was an insane amount of money, but of course Deke had plenty. Tyler had seen his house. There were just four paragraphs to the story, most of it recapping the original break-in and stabbing. It referred to Deke as Derek, a ‘devoted husband and father’, and mentioned Ryan too. It also gave details of Monica’s car, the Audi, identifiable by its personalised number plate.
‘Hey, man, you all right?’ Connell said. He looked at Tyler’s phone screen over his shoulder, took in the story.
‘Ten grand,’ Connell said. ‘Holy shit, I could use some of that. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything?’
Tyler stared at him. ‘Of course not.’
Connell held his hands up. ‘Just asking.’
Tyler thought about the shotgun under the bed, then about Monica’s car, which they’d fenced to Wee Sam. He must’ve realised whose car it was by now. And all the stuff from the Holt house Barry had already sold. How many people did that involve? A lot of them would’ve sussed it. Some of them might’ve kept quiet to avoid getting involved, but now there was ten grand in the mix.
He looked around. A gang of younger boys were hunched over their phones in a corner. A bunch of girls in tight leggings and with sculpted eyebrows were taking selfies while smoking. The nicotine drifted to his nostrils and he was reminded of his mum. What that was doing to Bean’s lungs in the house. They learned about that stuff in primary school. Bean asked about it at home one day and got the back of Angela’s hand in response. It was the one time Tyler had been aggressive with his mum, hauling her off Bean and throwing her onto the sofa in the living room. He could take all the shit she threw at him, but not at his sister.
He had to tell Barry about the reward. He moved away from Connell, who raised an eyebrow, and called his brother’s mobile. It rang five times, then Barry on voicemail, Ant and Dec barking in the background. He hung up. He looked around again, waiting for Ryan Holt or his dad to appear from nowhere and stab him. He realised he’d been chewing the inside of his cheek, so he released his bite. The flesh was raw. He poked his tongue at it.
He shook his head and turned to leave.
‘Hey.’ Connell behind him. ‘What about geography?’
Tyler just kept walking out of the school gates and down the road.
The dogs were barking before he knocked on the door. Sometimes, when they weren’t locked away in the bedroom, they’d start before Tyler had even got out of the lift, like an alarm, letting Barry know when anyone appeared on their floor. The doorbell didn’t work, ever since Barry ripped the wiring out as part of his campaign to get rid of the Syrian family. Tyler rapped on the door and the dogs got louder. He could hear one of them slavering against the door, scratching at the paintwork. Barry must not have fed them. He did that sometimes as a training method, to make them angry and mean, more savage in th
e build-up to a fight.
There was a place out near Tranent, off the A1 at Carberry, where someone had dug a pit in the woods and filled it with concrete. Barry would take the dogs to fight. There was so much dead space in East Lothian it was easy to get away with stuff like that. This place was between a golf course and a historic mansion, farms and fields all around, and nobody gave a shit. Either that or they were too scared to confront anyone. Barry and Kelly had taken Tyler out there a few times years ago with a previous pair of dogs, now dead. It was like an initiation to toughen him up. He’d endured the spectacle a couple of times, the amphetamines for the mutts beforehand, the tweaking of bollocks and injections to give their dogs the edge, the lacerated throats and savaged ribcages, bones and sinew showing, raw muscle like webbing exposed beneath fur. It was intended to shock but Tyler was already close to unshockable. But he hated it all the same and made himself sick once in front of everyone. It earned him a beating, but Barry had been so ashamed at the mocking he got from the other knuckleheads that he left Tyler at home after that.
Still no one had answered the door. Tyler went to open it, but the jaws of Ant or Dec were immediately at the crack in the door, slobbering and fighting to get at him.
‘Down.’
He could make out Kelly yanking on the dog’s collar, heaving it away from the door and into the kitchen, where she shut it in. She came back and opened the door. She was wearing black shorts and an oversized pink sweatshirt with Awesome scrawled across it. She looked tired and her hair was greasy, a sheen of coke sweat on her face.
‘There’s a reward,’ Tyler said.
‘What?’
‘Ten grand for information on the stabbing.’
‘Shit.’
‘Is Barry around?’
Kelly shook her head.
‘Where is he?’
Her head went down. ‘I don’t know.’
Tyler’s heart quickened for a moment. ‘You think something happened to him?’
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