‘Hen nights?’ Aisling said. ‘Not enough. Why, are you thinking of having one?’
‘We gave one as a prize for the foster home fund at Christmas,’ said Renny. ‘Some bint and her book club won it. It wasn’t exactly a riot. I like a hen night with a bit of you know.’
‘Crying on the stairs, puking in your handbag,’ I said.
‘Exactly.’
‘But speaking of the foster home,’ I said, trying again. ‘Or not really, I suppose, because it’s after they leave really. When they get to London and step off the bus.’
‘What is?’ Renny said.
‘I was just thinking, something I saw on the news. If a guy brought in a load of girls to get fancy nails and likes of the knickerless waxing, would you find that strange?’
Both girls stopped what they were doing and turned to face me.
‘Trafficked girls, you mean?’ Renny said. Her greened and contoured face couldn’t change colour but it fell. My stomach lurched and I nodded dumbly.
‘We went to a talk about it,’ Aisling added. ‘They went round the country. Police Scotland, I think it was, or it might have been some government lot, but we both went. They’d never get them out again if they brought them in here, would they, Ren?’
‘So you know what to look out for?’ I said.
‘Not knowing the date, not knowing how long they’re here for, not knowing the name of the town they’re in, not knowing the name of the person they’re staying with, pretending not to understand even when they do. Not having their own money, or a phone. Not having a handbag. Yeah, we know.’
They knew more than me, I thought. ‘So it’s probably daft to say this, but if anyone tried to get one of you to meet him somewhere quiet, you wouldn’t go, would you?’
‘Us?’ said Renny. ‘Ash and me? Come on! We’re the Rohypnol generation. We’ve been at Defcon One since our trainer bras.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Right, right. Course you have.’
‘Are you on a case?’ said Aisling. ‘Are you like undercover investigating something?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Not exactly. I mean, it’s probably best if I didn’t talk about it.’
‘In the Haw?’ said Renny.
‘My flat,’ I said. I had lain awake for hours last night, couldn’t get the thought out of my head. ‘You know it’s Airbnb, right? Have you ever seen folk staying there that made you worry?’
‘Seriously?’ said Renny. ‘In the Haw? Upstairs from us?’
‘I’m just asking.’
‘Aye right, you are,’ said Aisling. ‘Naw, it’s mostly scientists. Mostly. Biologists. They’re looking at stuff growing on the shale bings. Some big project. They’ll be spitting tacks you’ve nipped in.’
‘They’ll have to stay at the Paraffin Arms,’ said Renny. ‘And it’s not as posh as it sounds.’ She took a breath and shared a look with her sister. ‘Is there?’ she said. ‘Something going on.’
‘I really can’t talk about it,’ I said. ‘But if I go away suddenly, don’t let anyone tell you I meant to, eh?’
‘Wow.’ They spoke in chorus and I left them standing, owl-eyed, gazing after me.
‘Adim,’ I said, putting my Scotsman on the counter and a packet of sugar-free gum on top of it. ‘Do you ever get anyone in here you’re worried about? Customers that set off your alarm bells.’
‘Like you are now, you mean? What you on about?’
‘Stop it, I’m serious. I mean customers you worry about, in case they’re not OK.’
‘All the bloody time,’ Adim said. He had been keying open crisp boxes but he let his key-ring snap back to his belt on its spiral cord and rested his arms on the top of the box in front of him. ‘I worry about that pair above the pub, going home legless up those steep stairs at their age. And I worry they’re going to put a chip pan on and burn us all to the ground.’
‘They usually have a carry-out when they’re sploshed,’ I said. ‘Sorry but they never shut their curtain and I live alone.’
‘And that’s another thing,’ he said. ‘You live alone, fair enough. You’re young and strong. It’s the old ones that worry me. All on their own with a nurse coming in the morning and meals on wheels. I’ll never understand that about you lot.’
‘Us lot?’
‘I mean don’t get me wrong, it drives me insane having my mum sitting there in the corner. My wife never gets a minute’s peace from the old dear and it’s only three years since her mum finally popped her clogs. But we know when it’s us it’ll be just the same, sitting in the corner of our daughter-in-law’s living room driving her up the wall. Not parked in a home somewhere wishing for visitors. Like you lot.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Like us lot.’ Like the parents of the sisters at the fairytale cottage, Aisling and Renny said. Tidied away. ‘You’re dead right, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘But it wasn’t old people I was thinking of.’ I stopped and considered Adim, his open face looking back at me, his arms crossed on the top of the crisp box, sleeves rolled up, good watch loose on his skinny wrist, nails short and dirty from grubbing around with cash and cardboard all day. Why was I hesitating? I took a deep breath. ‘It was girls I was thinking of. Mind you, I don’t suppose they’d be trolling about buying papers.’
‘Girls?’ Adim said. ‘You mean like Eastern European girls?’
‘Exactly. I’ve been reading about it and it’s …’
‘It’s everywhere. I know. I’ve never seen anything round this way but there was a government roadshow came through and they wouldn’t have stopped here if it wasn’t worthwhile, would they?’
I shrugged.
‘My cousin said something once.’ He frowned, remembering. ‘There was this guy. A right low-life. Nothing you could pin it on but just a bad vibe, you know what I mean? Of course you do. This was Penicuik and one of his kids had been at school with the bloke, knew him. Said he lived on his own in his dead mum’s house. Three bedrooms, end of terrace. But he definitely lived alone. Only, he was in and out of my cousin’s shop and he bought magazines. Cosmo, Hello, Seventeen, Shout.’ Adim swallowed hard. ‘He bought Jackie Wilson. And sweeties.’
‘What did he do? Your cousin, I mean.’
‘Called the cops on a tip line. Never found out what happened but he never saw the guy again. We all watched the papers, but there was never anything reported on it.’ He had been staring at the counter, lost in his memories. Now he looked up. ‘Is that why you’re here? Is that what you’re doing?’
I felt myself flush. What was I doing? Trying to save my family business instead of phoning a tip line and letting it sink. The Hollywood girls, Adim and his cousin, even Siobhan, thought more about the girls, those endless nameless faceless girls than I had until this year, when I was already too late to save them.
‘It’s all right,’ Adim said. ‘If you can’t say, you can’t say.’ I gave him a serious look. He meant it. He knew men like Big Garry were real and I wasn’t crazy to be scared, to be hiding. Briefly he put his hand over mine and squeezed it. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’
I wanted to tell him everything right there and then. Not him really. Not Adim. Just someone. I’d been on my own with this far too long.
Instead of going straight home, I wandered up the side street and in at the gate of the fairytale cottage, scuffing my feet in the browned apple blossom on the path. I knocked hard on the front door and waited. No one answered so I turned and walked away.
I was filling my kettle when I saw the little woman coming out into her garden again with yet another bundle of something to store in the cellar, and I tried not to be annoyed that I’d been left standing on the step. If a person doesn’t want to answer her door she doesn’t have to. She wasn’t elderly. Not frail. And hadn’t they all just decided, Adim and the girls and me myself, that it was young women who needed someone to watch them and worry, not nice wee wifies in cardies like her down there.
TWENTY-ONE
; ‘I don’t know if she can hear us,’ Martine whispered. ‘Is she sleeping or unconscious? She’s so hot, but she’s not sweating. Her skin feels dry.’
Sssshhhh. Laura thought she said it out loud.
‘She might be able to hear everything,’ Ivy said. ‘We should talk to her.’
‘Laura,’ Martine said gently. ‘It might hurt when we move you but we want you out of harm’s way.’
Please don’t hurt me. Laura screamed it. It hurts so much anyway.
‘I don’t think she can hear us,’ Martine said. ‘Ivy, do you throw your medicine out, like you’re supposed to? You know how you’re supposed to? Everyone says they do, like flossing your teeth, but do you?’
‘I’ve still got some of Mother’s,’ Ivy said. ‘It’s not like the old days, big brown bottles of castor oil. Those pills are inert and you can google them. It would be a waste to chuck them out, time it takes you to get an appointment at the clinic sometimes.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Martine. ‘Kate’s bound to have a decent stash up there, isn’t she? Antibiotics.’ They both looked at Laura for a while, watching her breathing. ‘Did you really take castor oil? I thought that was for your scalp.’
‘It’s a laxative,’ Ivy said. ‘Mother …’
‘Say it.’
Sssshhhh. Laura wished neither of them would say anything.
‘OK, I’ll go first,’ Martine said. ‘You said we should talk to her? Here goes. Laura? My mother was a selfish, clueless mess. She did her best but it wasn’t nearly good enough. She was always about the new boyfriend, the one that was going to sweep her off her feet and take her away from it all. Laura? If you can hear me. It hurts my heart that you’re just the same. You’re clever and funny and pretty – why are you just the same?’
‘It’s only natural to want to be loved,’ Ivy said.
‘I loved her!’ said Martine. Then she bit her lip, shocked at how loud she’d spoken. For a while she sat in silence, watching Laura breathe. Ivy was doing her circuits, she noticed after a while, trotting round and round with her arms pumping. ‘I really did love her,’ she said. ‘But she was absolutely bloody hopeless, Ivy. You’ve no idea. The place stank like bin juice all the time and we had ants in the cupboards because she’d never put anything in containers. It was just a big pile of packets with ants rummaging around inside them. So then she’d buy a new packet and shove the old one to the back. But I did love her.’
She tried once to make it better, Martine remembered. God knows where she got the money but she decorated the bathroom. She stripped off the old mouldy paper and washed the walls with a bottle of sugar soap from the ironmonger. She painted them pale pink and got matching pink curtains that crossed over and tied in bows. She carried an off-cut of pink carpet home over her shoulder, singing, and cut it to fit with kitchen scissors, added a fluffy bathmat and seat cover. There were candles.
‘It took less than a week for the black mould to shine through the new paint,’ Martine said. ‘And the carpet curled up in the damp. God, Ivy, the look on her face when she rolled it up again and stuffed it in the wheelie.’
‘Your poor mum,’ Ivy said, panting a bit. ‘And poor Laura too. That’s not much of a bedside story.’
‘It’s got a happy ending,’ Martine said. ‘She went out and got legless and it’s a lot easier to clean wine sick off bare floor than damp carpet.’
‘Oh sweetheart,’ said Ivy. She was back beside Martine and Laura now and she sat, letting herself drop into the squealing inflatable chair. ‘How old were you?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Martine said. ‘I wasn’t a kid. I was at high school.’
‘The thing is,’ Ivy said, then she drifted off. She did that a lot. She would start talking then disappear inside her own head, deep into her own memories, completely forget that there was someone waiting to hear whatever it was she wanted to say. Sometimes Martine poked her to keep talking, but today she let her drift.
Laura sank into the peace and drifted too.
‘The thing is,’ Ivy said again. Typical. Laura needed the silence and so of course Ivy was back. ‘I can see it from both sides,’ she was saying. ‘I’ve been the one who was hopeless and disappointing. And I’ve been the one who was disappointed and stopped hoping.’
‘My mum didn’t feed me or wash my clothes and I had to teach myself how to do my hair from an article in a magazine,’ Martine said. ‘I bet that’s not what you mean.’
‘I don’t want to go over it all again,’ Ivy said. ‘She’s gone where she can’t hurt me. Oh! You mean how was I hopeless? How did I disappoint her? I was always fat, clumsy, bad skin, couldn’t sing, shy, no good at tennis, my teeth were yellow, I was hard on my shoes.’
‘You were what?’ said Martine.
‘I was hard on my shoes,’ Ivy said. ‘They had to get re-soled a lot.’
‘Your mother blamed you for gravity?’
Ivy was silent for a moment, then started laughing. ‘She did! That’s right. She did. Oh Martine, I’m going to say it. I really am going to say it.’ She took a huge breath. ‘I’m so glad she’s dead. And I never thought I’d be able to tell anyone. Whatever happens to us’ – she broke off and they both looked over at Laura again, watching her chest lift and drop – ‘I’ll never be sorry I met you. And I’m going to tell you something else now.’ She paused and took a few more breaths to calm down. ‘I’ve only ever wanted someone to love me, someone to care about me. I wanted to come first with someone. I never had that and I always thought it sounded lovely.’
‘I had that. With my gran. It is lovely. I’m sorry you missed it.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Ivy said. She was determined to have her say this time. She wouldn’t be shouted down. It mattered. ‘I really don’t. See, I was still thinking like a child. Fifty-four and I was still a child. I wanted someone to love me and care about me. I was ready to settle for a cat. And instead I got you. And then Laura. And I’m so much older than you. You never understood what I was getting at, when I said that. You shouted me down.’
‘Still don’t. Still would.’
‘The thing is it doesn’t matter which way it goes. In or out. Loved or loving. It feels the same. Actually, I think it feels better to love because you’re in charge of it never stopping. Now do you understand?’
Laura could feel tears welling up and spilling down the sides of her face.
‘Oh my God!’ said Martine. ‘Look! She can hear us. She’s conscious. Ivy, she must be in so much pain.’
‘All the more reason to stick to the plan,’ Ivy said. ‘We get Laura safely out of the way, I take the drain cover and go behind the door, when Kate comes in I whack her with it. OK?’
‘What do I do?’
‘Stay safely tucked away,’ Ivy said. ‘Precious girl.’
When Martine knew she could talk again without her voice breaking, she said: ‘Can I ask her about antibiotics first though?’
‘Ask her today. And tomorrow we’ll do it. Unless Gail comes down to “choose”. But either way we’ll do it. I’ll do it for you. For both of you. And you do something for me? All right? You let me.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Kate’s nose was wrinkled and her voice sounded guttural, as if she was so disgusted by them she might gag.
You’d smell just as bad if someone kept you down here for weeks on end, Martine thought.
‘A kidney infection,’ Ivy said. ‘She had a bladder infection and now it’s gone up into her kidneys. She’s got a high temperature. Very high. I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts having seizures.’
‘Renal failure?’ Kate said.
Martine felt a slow roll of utter revulsion go through her. The woman sounded excited. There was no other word for it. ‘So, what we thought,’ she said, ‘was maybe you could bring down a flask of warm water for her to drink and maybe if you had any antibiotics lying around in your medicine cabinet. Anything would do. Are you prone to it yourself? It would be great if you had just the right thing
, obviously.’
‘Kidney chills?’ said Kate. ‘No, we are not. What a thing to say to a person.’
Martine blinked at her.
‘That’s a nasty, dirty thing to let yourself get,’ Kate said. ‘Honeymoon disease, they used to call it. Gail and I have never been in the way of anything like that.’
With one last glare, she turned to Laura and leaned forward. Martine remembered her leaning over Gail, spilling stovies on the floor, and had to look away. ‘Oh,’ Kate was saying. ‘I can feel the heat coming off her. I’ve got to report this to Gail right now. She’ll be very interested in this.’
‘So if you could bring down what you’ve got, we could see if anything helps her,’ Martine said.
Kate straightened and turned. ‘I’ll ask,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think so. I don’t think Gail would want me interfering.’
When she had left, Ivy and Martine went through the carrier bag of food. ‘Sandwiches, apples and water,’ Martine said. ‘I’m not hungry. She’s taken my appetite away. What did she mean?’
‘By “interfering”?’ Ivy said. ‘I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter whether or not you’re hungry, you need to eat so you can run without fainting. I’m going to see if Laura will take some sips of water. You choose an apple. It’s your go.’
Martine ate an apple, then a sandwich. So did Ivy. Laura swallowed some water, coughed some back out again, and fell into a deeper sleep than ever.
The next day, Ivy and Martine shared the third sandwich. They saved the third apple.
That night, as they were settling down to sleep, Ivy beside Laura, feeling the heat of her fever, they finally admitted the truth to themselves and each other.
‘Interfering with Laura being so ill,’ Ivy said.
‘Interfering with Laura dying,’ said Martine. ‘That was our last chance. And I wasted it begging for help. We should have—’
‘Too late now,’ Ivy said. ‘You weren’t to know.’
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