The Pearl King

by Sarah Painter

  Ah, growing up in London.

  ‘Then it started moving.’

  ‘What did?’

  ‘The ground. It was writhing like it had come alive. Like there were tentacles or snakes or something.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Shouted to Lucy, tried to get her to stop, but she let go of my hand. She ran off.’

  ‘Which direction?’

  ‘I don’t know, she had switched off her phone flashlight. I was looking at the floor, trying to move out the way of that stuff, whatever it was, trying not to fall over, and when I looked up, I couldn’t see her.’

  ‘She had disappeared?’

  ‘No, I could hear her running. It was really quiet, like there was no other sound at all, not even traffic, so I could hear her really clearly. Getting quieter though as she got further away.’

  ‘I called out to her, I told her to stop messing around and to come back, but she didn’t.’

  ‘Did you try to go after her?’

  ‘I couldn’t. The stuff on the ground was up around my legs and I couldn’t move. Then there was this feeling like something was running over my body.’ Joshua shuddered. ‘That’s it. I can’t… I don’t remember anything else.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me,’ Lydia said. ‘That’s really helpful.’

  ‘Really?’ Joshua shook his head. ‘You’re going to have me committed.’

  ‘No I’m not,’ Lydia said, keeping eye contact. ‘You’re not crazy. That really happened. Something bad took your girlfriend and cut your arms and I’m going to find out what and how and, if I can, bring Lucy home safely.’

  Joshua put his hands over his face and his shoulders shook. Lydia didn’t know if she ought to pat his arm or say something comforting. She could hear Fleet’s voice, chatting to the FLO and, a moment later, they appeared in the room. Fleet was carrying a tray filled with mugs. He looked from Joshua’s shaking form to Lydia, an eyebrow raised.

  Joshua sniffed deeply and dropped his hands. ‘One other thing,’ he said, ignoring Fleet and the FLO completely. ‘Lucy was laughing as she ran.’

  ‘Manic or genuinely happy, do you think?’ Lydia asked quickly.

  ‘The happiest I have ever heard her.’

  Outside Joshua’s house, Lydia leaned against Fleet’s car rather than getting in. She crossed her arms to try to stay warm. Two children walked into a dark wood… Only one came out. Lydia shook her head to clear it. She didn’t need more bedtime stories, she needed to focus on the facts. ‘You haven’t found her phone, I assume?’

  ‘Nothing from the scene. Just Joshua’s jacket. And we’ve checked her number and her phone has been switched off or out of action since just past midnight. Triangulation with the towers shows Lucy’s last known location was the woods. It corroborates Joshua’s story, but doesn’t give us any further information.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what Joshua said to you?’ Fleet had his hands in his coat pockets. ‘Or shall we get going? It’s cold out here.’

  ‘I’ll walk home from here,’ Lydia said. ‘Thanks, anyway.’

  Fleet held her gaze, not saying anything. At one time, Lydia had felt that she could tell what he was thinking. Now she wasn’t so sure. ‘He saw the tree roots moving. And he said he felt like something was crawling over him. He might have taken his jacket off then, if he felt like something had got inside.’

  Fleet nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Thanks for today,’ Lydia said, pushing away from the car, ready to leave.

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Fleet looked away, his jaw tensed. ‘I thought we were being honest with each other? You told me things you haven’t said before. I’m glad you’re being open with me. It will put us in a stronger position this time.’

  Lydia stepped back, her heart racing. ‘That’s not what I meant… I’m sorry. I think I’m finally able to be honest with you about my… stuff,’ she indicated herself, ‘because we’re not together anymore.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Fleet said, his brow creasing. ‘That makes no sense.’

  ‘I was always so worried about getting too close, showing you too much of my life and the Crow stuff. Now it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘What doesn’t matter? You’re not making any sense.’

  Lydia took a breath. ‘What you think of me. It doesn’t matter anymore.’

  Fleet looked like she had punched him.

  Lydia could feel tears gathering and she wanted to get away before they fell. She turned and walked toward Denmark Hill.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lydia’s route from Ruskin Park House to Camberwell took her past the Maudsley Hospital. It had a handsome red-brick and stuccoed façade with creamy white columns and an engraved stone pedestal above the entrance. She checked her watch. It was past visiting hours, but she could try.

  The reception area was bleak. Not because it was dirty or bare, although the wire mesh screen and safety glass which separated the staff from the rest of the room didn’t inspire warm feelings, but because of something in the air. Something beyond the institutional bouquet of pine disinfectant with a whiff of cooked cabbage. After a few minutes waiting, Lydia realised what she could sense. Despair. Terror. Confusion.

  The woman behind the screen smiled and her tone was friendly. Lydia explained that she knew she was out with the regular visiting hours but that she had been passing and wondered if she could see Ash.

  ‘Let me see what I can do.’

  Lydia waited, scrolling through her phone and making a few notes.

  When the woman returned, she was smiling. ‘He hasn’t had any visitors before, so we’re making an exception. This way.’

  While Lydia wanted nothing less than to walk into yet another institution, she followed obediently through doors which clicked locked behind her and down bland corridors. ‘I’m glad you’re here. Ash is a lovely guy and it breaks my heart that he hasn’t had any visitors. He’s very gentle, very calm, but I can sit in on the meeting if you would be more comfortable?’

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ Lydia said as they arrived at a plain door. Unlike some of the others they had passed, this was ordinary ply and didn’t have a keypad next to it or a viewing panel. The woman fiddled with the lanyard around her neck and lowered her voice. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer Ash will be with us. He would have been treated as an outpatient by now if we had somewhere stable for him to go. Few more days and we’ll probably have to turf him.’

  ‘To sheltered housing?’

  ‘Eventually. Probably a hostel first. His key worker has been doing his best to find something suitable, but,’ the woman shrugged. ‘We’re stretched.’

  She opened the door to reveal a small square sitting room. There was a varnished pine coffee table and four armchairs with wipe-clean fabric. Two bland art prints of boats were on one wall, off-set by the laminated no-smoking sign.

  A man wearing grey joggers and a black hoodie got up from one of the chairs when they walked in. He was somewhere in his early thirties and was exceptionally good-looking. Lydia knew it was exceptional because he was attractive despite the harsh fluorescent lighting, the ill-fitting clothes and the dark circles under his eyes.

  ‘Ash?’

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Ash said holding out his hand.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ the woman said. To Ash she said, ‘twenty minutes, okay?’ He nodded, not taking his eyes off Lydia’s face, his hand was in mid-air and Lydia reached out and shook it over the scuffed table. A powerful shot of Pearl magic ran up her arm and through her body and it took every ounce of Lydia’s self-possession not to gasp out loud. As soon as their contact was broken, the sensation disappeared.

  ‘Shall we sit?’ Ash was gesturing to the chair nearest Lydia and waited until she had sat down until he did. Polite. Part of Lydia’s brain was dissecting what had just happened. She hadn’t sensed Pearl at all walking into the room, which was seriously odd. The Pearl signat
ure which had run off Ash didn’t feel quite right, either. It wasn’t something natural and easy, sitting on him like the colour of his eyes. It was borrowed. Or maybe left. The remains of something left where it had no business being in the first place.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Ash said, clasping his hands loosely between his knees.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Lydia was leaning forward, trying to get a sense of the Pearl magic, again. There was nothing. If she hadn’t felt that single bolt of magic, she would have laid money on him having entirely Family-free blood.

  ‘I’ve been trying to get my head around what has happened. The computers they have here, the phones. It’s all new. Like something from the future.’

  ‘The hospital passed on your details to the police. They will check through the missing person’s database and, with a bit of luck, you’ll be on there. You have to trust that they will do their job and just concentrate on getting better.’

  ‘I thought you might’ve changed your mind. About taking my case.’

  ‘No,’ Lydia said. ‘But I will chase up that police enquiry with my contact. Make sure it’s at the top of somebody’s to do list.’

  There was a pause. ‘I can pay.’

  ‘You’re not my client which means I’m not billing you. Don’t get your hopes up, I really don’t think there’s much I can do.’ Lydia took out her phone. ‘Do you mind if I take your picture, though? It might help.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Lydia held up her phone and snapped a few shots. He had the sharp cheekbones and wide, shapely mouth of a model. The kind of person who wouldn’t need Pearl magic to make people fall in love, want to be with him. ‘It might be helpful if you can tell me what you remember about your old life. Before this happened and everything seemed wrong. I’m guessing your name and address hasn’t popped back into your mind, by any chance?’

  ‘You think I’m lying?’ Ash looked thunderstruck.

  ‘No,’ Lydia said. ‘I was making a joke. Sorry.’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s okay. People don’t joke much in here. I’m a bit out of practice.’

  Lydia blinked. Ash no longer sounded unhinged. He sounded sad and very lost. She wanted to ask him if the name ‘Pearl’ meant anything to him, but had the vague idea that she might plant ideas in his mind. Wasn’t there something called ‘false memory’ syndrome? What if she put back his recovery in her eagerness?

  Ash closed his eyes. ‘Millennium playing on the radio, everyone worrying about the Y2K bug. That’s what I remember. I guess that wasn’t a problem, after all.’

  ‘That’s a long bout of amnesia,’ Lydia said.

  ‘That’s what my doctor says.’ Ash opened his eyes and looked directly at Lydia. ‘I’ve accepted that the world is real. I don’t think everyone is lying anymore. I’ve used Google. I’ve looked in a mirror. It would be too elaborate a charade. It must all be real. Which means I’ve travelled in time. I was sixteen years old and now I’m clearly not. Which is also insane. I do know that. I’m not so crazy that I don’t know that.’

  ‘Do you remember anything at all from the last few years?’

  ‘Partying,’ Ash said. ‘I’ve been at a party. Lots of music and dancing and drugs. Or I assume drugs, because it’s been like I’ve been tripping, seeing things. Impossible things.’

  ‘What sort of things.’

  ‘I can’t say,’ Ash said, suddenly sounding panicky, more like he did in their first conversation. He pushed the sleeves of his over-size hoodie up his arms and Lydia caught sight of pale scars, swirling over his skin. ‘I’m not allowed. I know that much. They wouldn’t like me talking about them.’

  ‘Okay, forget that. What’s the last thing you remember before the party?’

  There was a pause so long that Lydia started to think that Ash had gone catatonic. He was entirely motionless, staring at his clasped hands. Lydia was just wondering what she ought to do, when he spoke.

  ‘I was meeting my mates, I think. I was excited about New Year’s Eve. Everyone had big plans.’

  ‘Right. And this was 1999?’

  ‘Yes. We were too young to get into the clubs, so we went somewhere. We had our own party planned…’ Ash trailed off. ‘I wish I could remember. We definitely had something special planned. Not at someone’s house or anything.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Lydia said. ‘That’s really good. You can call me if you remember anything else.’

  ‘The woods,’ Ash said suddenly. ‘We were going to party in the woods.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lydia slept heavily, her dreams filled with twisting trees and strange wet, black foliage, which threatened to suffocate. Once she surfaced, fighting the imaginary branches which turned into the twists of her duvet, she showered to slough off the night sweat and went downstairs to the cafe to get a late breakfast. If there was one advantage to discovering that Angel had been working for Charlie, steering her towards cases and reporting back to her uncle, it was that now she felt no compunction whatsoever over cadging food. Angel was clearing tables after the morning rush. ‘Where’s the new kid?’ Lydia said, surprised.

  ‘Scrubbing. He burned my favourite pan.’

  ‘I didn’t think he did any cooking,’ Lydia said.

  ‘And he won’t be again,’ Angel said. ‘That’s what I get for trying a bit of training.’

  Lydia stood in front of the counter and contemplated the menu. ‘I’ll have the full breakfast with toast. And hash browns.’

  Angel raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a fact?’

  Lydia smiled. ‘Quick as you like, I’m starving.’

  Angel’s expression went nuclear, which was fun. ‘Anything else for her ladyship?’

  Lydia widened her smile. ‘Just some tea. And orange juice. Thanks, Angel. You’re the best.’ Then. Before Angel could launch across the counter and smack her, Lydia retreated to her favourite seat. It was in the back corner, facing the counter and the entrance with her back against the wall and the big window to her right. Best sight lines, and quick access to the door which led back up to her flat. The food helped to wake Lydia up, but it was still hard to shake the dregs of her dream. Seeing Ash in the hospital had been unnerving. He wasn’t crazy and something very odd had clearly happened. It was also weird that the last thing he remembered involved woodland. Lydia didn’t believe in coincidences, and she was planning to search the news reports from 1999 for a missing sixteen-year-old, when something else happened to push all thoughts of Ash from her mind.

  Charlie was outside on the street, heading for the cafe, but there was something in his gait. He was moving very quickly and Lydia felt her heart rate kick up. Having hesitated too long to get upstairs and avoid him, she watched as he headed to her table with a dark feeling of foreboding. He hadn’t so much as nodded at Angel, which meant something serious was definitely up. You could say a lot of things about Charlie Crow, but he was extremely courteous. Lydia put down her cutlery and pushed her plate away. ‘What’s wrong? Have they found Lucy Bunyan?’ She tried to push away the sudden image of a dead girl, hidden under a pile of rotting leaves.

  Charlie sat next to Lydia, not opposite her the way he usually did. He put a hand on her arm. ‘Your Uncle Terrence is dead.’

  Lydia frowned, trying to place the name.

  Charlie glowered, removing his hand. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know Terrence. What was Henry thinking? Feathers, we’re your family. You should know their names at least.’

  ‘There are a lot of Crows,’ Lydia said defensively. Henry had told her plenty of stories and she hadn’t been separated from the family at large. She had been to parties for naming days, Christmas, and New Year. She didn’t remember an Uncle Terrence.

  ‘Terrence is banged up in Wandsworth,’ he paused. ‘Was. He was found dead in his cell yesterday morning. I only just heard.’ Charlie looked outraged at this, as if the delay in communication was the worst of it.

  Lydia didn’t know which question to start with. Who
was Terrence and why was he in prison? How did he die? Luckily, Charlie ploughed on. He scanned the cafe as he spoke, seemingly unable or unwilling to look at her. ‘You know the old days? Doing time was something of an occupational hazard. It’s not like that now, of course, but our old-timers are still doing their stretches. We look after them as best we can, executive cells, cushty jobs, plenty of money flowing in for sundries, all that.’

  Lydia nodded as if Charlie hadn’t just started speaking a completely different language. Not for the first time, Lydia appreciated why her parents had warned her against Charlie and the Family business. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was seventy-five,’ Charlie said. ‘Found with a noose. You don’t do that at seventy-five. He’d been inside for over thirty years. They’re making out he couldn’t hack it. Why would he do thirty years and then decide to check out? Makes no sense. Someone did for him.’

  Charlie’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. He answered it, still not looking at Lydia. She had never seen him so agitated. His mood worsened over the course of the short call. ‘No,’ he said, flatly at one point. His entire body had gone dangerously still and Lydia pushed her plate further to the other side of the table, her appetite truly gone.

  ‘What?’ She said, once he had put his phone facedown on the Formica.

  ‘Terrence’s friend, Richard, has gone, too. Shanked. He was in intensive care overnight and he just passed.’

  ‘Is Richard one of us?’

  Charlie nodded. ‘He was on his toes back in the seventies but he came home when we had a spot of bother with the law. Took the stretch to protect the rest of us. He’s a bloody hero. Him and Terrence were the last from that era. They sacrificed their lives so that we could fly free.’