by Kate Bradley
I let her waffle on. If she’s this bad on coke, I thought, I’d hate to see her on speed. When she’d finished, I asked the crucial question. ‘Why part-time?’ But I’d already guessed. And then it was as I suspected.
‘I’ve got a kid. Want to see her picture? She’s too cute. She’s round my mum’s tonight.’ This was not a tick – this was a big, fat cross. She started to get her phone out, but I’d already stood up. Macey could be a ten, instead of the seven that she was, and I would’ve still walked away. It’s the rules. It’s my rules.
‘Are you going?’ she asked.
I knew this was subtext for are you taking the coke away from me?
I answered both questions with one word. ‘Yes.’
Saturday
00:24
Destiny
Downstairs, I became restless. I felt exhausted. Now I hoped that either Jay or Ollie had someone lined up or else I could see me going to bed sometime never.
Macey had drifted down behind me, but I blanked her. I went into the kitchen to get another drink, but she followed me anyway. Ollie saw me across the small but crowded room and raised his eyebrow in a question. I shook my head, and formed a zero with my thumb and forefinger. He did the same back to me – tonight was not going well. We ususally had at least one by now.
Macey leant next to me against the counter, chatting to me like I was her new best friend. I ignored her and looked around the room. Through the crowd, I spotted three dark-haired girls who weren’t there before I went upstairs, one of which was a definite nine out of ten. Neither Jay or Ollie was with them so I made a beeline for them. Maybe, I thought, it should be called a waspline.
I stood near them and sparked a joint, wondering if it would help me start a conversation with them. Amazingly, Macey did my work for me. She greeted them, obviously knowing the nine and one of the other girls. I only had to pass Macey the joint and she introduced me, telling them it was my house. Then it was easy. We got talking, one thing led to another, then the nine said she was in care, and I heard sirens and saw fireworks. She asked me my name; I told her I was called Shay.
I moved over to the window, and she followed a little, so she was no longer near her friends. I told her about my own life in care – a version that suits me, but wasn’t too far from the truth. It’s a life that bonds people in care together, as no one else can relate to what it’s like. It’s a tragic little club and one I exploited. Maybe there should be honour among thieves, but my life has taught me that there is no honour. There are only those who thieve and those who thieve harder. And the winners are those who thieve the hardest.
Her name was Ella and she was sixteen, which was a tick because I won’t touch anyone younger. She had long dark hair, similar to mine and blue eyes, and although her nose was too big, it gave her a Roman look, especially as her cheekbones were good. She was cool enough to wear old-school trainers. She also had a tight dress that showed off a killer figure. She was perfect and I gave her a big smile, which she thought was me being friendly, but really it was me thinking about how much Aleksander was going to love her.
As I grinned, I remembered a children’s book I must’ve read a long time ago, about an enormous crocodile that tries to trick the little children into the river so he can eat them. I realised I was the enormous crocodile. I widened my grin at her, and as she smiled back at me, I thought, I’m going to eat you all up.
‘If you’re in care, is this your foster parents’ house?’ Ella asked.
I nodded, suddenly flustered. I was getting my story muddled up; the drink and drugs and the nightmare of the day were getting to me. I needed to be careful. I told her I was going to get some drinks and to keep her in the right place, I handed her my coke wrap and I told her to help herself, adding, ‘I’ll be back.’
She giggled. ‘Are you the Terminator?’
‘Yes,’ I told her. And I meant it.
Saturday
01:14
Destiny
Ollie was in the front room lounged out on the sofa, his arm around some girl who looked like she’d been short-changed. That’s the usual reaction. Ollie’s sort of odd looking, with his too large nose and wide-space eyes. Maybe that’s why he always drones on about his degree in philosophy from Cambridge to anyone who’ll listen. Bet he didn’t say it was third class. The fact was, he’s a privileged bastard coasting until he inherits his parents’ pile. But being rich hasn’t set him free, it’s only made him bitter. He can’t ever achieve what his father has, so he can’t bring himself to try and fail.
He was slow to get up when I indicated with a nod of my head to come over. That was because he didn’t like doing anything I suggested. And my suggestions were always better than his. He might’ve been smarter than Jay, and he might’ve been eight years older than me, but he knew that I was smarter than him. And that bothered him because he was a chauvinist pig. If he had his way, things would’ve been very different in our business.
‘I’ve got one. You?’
‘Nope. Jay is insisting he’s got one, but I think no.’
‘Why?’
‘See for yourself,’ he shrugged and pointed outside. I went to take a look.
The back of the house was a small paved yard. In it stood Jay and a woman smoking a joint. One look at her and I could see how old she was – too old. Ollie was right.
‘OK, Ollie,’ I said on my return, ‘I’ll go and tell Aleksander we’re done, and you wrap this up. First, I need a mickey finn.’
He took a small plastic bag out of his pocket and handed me a capsule. I don’t thank him for it – it’s not for me.
In the kitchen, I poured two drinks, broke the capsule into one, mixed it carefully and carried it back to her. ‘This is for you,’ I told her. I clocked that Ella had lined up a big line – just one. I saw guilt in her blue eyes that she’d been caught, and thought: naughty, greedy girl.
She felt bad, but I was happy – she’d jumped into my snare and I was only too happy to tighten the wire.
I downed my drink and then covered the line with my hand. ‘It’s mine if you can’t down your drink in one, like me.’ My tone made it sound like a joke – but the message was clear. Like a good girl, she downed it in one.
Gotcha.
Saturday
01:20
Destiny
I let the ketamine hit her system before I took her upstairs. I left her on the bed, knowing she wouldn’t be moving anywhere until morning. Not out of choice, anyway.
Then I moved around the party, telling people my parents were coming home early and they would call the police. Most people left immediately. It was late, they were carrying drugs or didn’t want the grief of being stuck in someone else’s bust.
Although it was a dramatic end to a party, I figured that it was still in keeping with what they were expecting to see. It’s all about the optics. If something presents in a way that make sense to them, they don’t look very closely, because they don’t have to. Don’t give anyone a reason to question what they’re seeing and they won’t see anything wrong.
In our little venture, optics were everything. We knew that the police could put some heavy manpower on our tails. Because of that, we were careful to move our operation after each party. We knew that if we were discovered, they’d be all over any partygoers as witnesses. Therefore, we need them to not notice any details and to do that, we have to make sure that there is nothing to notice. By the time anyone realised something was badly wrong, we were always long gone, transactions made, leaving just the scorch marks of another party where people drank too much, did too many drugs, and couldn’t quite remember what they had seen in the poorly lit house way after midnight.
After a couple of minutes, I had an afterthought and ran back upstairs. I pulled a sheet across Ella’s body, her face. I didn’t want to risk anyone coming up and seeing her lying on the mattress, and them then telling the police if there was a fuss: yes, I saw Ella. She’d fallen asleep at the party. Yes, she was defi
nitely there. And yes, she was definitely alive.
Saturday
01:50
Destiny
‘I have to sleep,’ I told the group. We were sitting in the basement. It stank of mould and woodlice and something rotting. I hated it. But I also knew that we would be out of there tomorrow evening and we would never be back.
Gary rubbed his face in agreement. ‘Destiny, you’ve had the toughest day ever,’ he said, with sympathy.
Aleksander tightened his arm around me. ‘Of course, baby, you’re so strong you always keep going, but you must rest. We all need to sleep.’
We all looked at sleeping beauty. Now she was asleep and I would never speak to her again, I worked hard to forget she even had a name, which was as it should be. Her right hand and right leg were each handcuffed to a hundred-pound kettlebell. When they weren’t holding a girl, Aleksander and Gary used them for weightlifting; I couldn’t even lift one.
Aleksander looked at Gary. ‘You’re on guard, so sleep down here. If she stirs, give her another benzee, but for goodness’ sake, don’t do what you did last time.’
Gary looked at the floor. Even under his stubble, he blushed with shame. Last month, he decided to give a girl another one ‘just to make sure’, and we had her in a coma. We ended up dumping her and we lost twenty grand. The thing that pissed us off was that she was a ten, so the money was all but in the bank. That was the thing with Gary: although Aleksander didn’t have to pay him and, as Aleksander said, ‘scared muscle is the most loyal muscle’, he couldn’t actually be left with even the simplest of tasks.
‘Right,’ says Ollie standing up, Jay following, then us, ‘I reckon that’s it. Tomorrow we ship her out, but for now, I’m crashing.’
We all shuffled off upstairs, into sleeping bags, ready for the export tomorrow.
*
I wanted us to sleep; to be ready for our work. But even in the dark, I could see that as soon as Aleksander came into the room, he had that look in his eye. He moved towards me like I was a deer that might bolt. The lights were off, the glow from the streetlights outside, pooling orange into the room. Like prey, I shut my eyes and didn’t move and hoped for the best.
For the briefest of moments, I thought of Miss. I thought that she might come here to this house tomorrow to look for me. But if she did, I would be already gone. I felt a shard of disappointment and as Aleksander crawled in next to me, I didn’t know if it was because she wouldn’t be able to take me somewhere else, or rescue me from the person I was turning into.
Saturday
04:02
Jenni
I woke in the car with a pain in my back and a stiff neck. In the army, I was used to crashing in uncomfortable places, grabbing sleep where I could. Normally it wouldn’t have been a problem to me, as I would’ve gone back to sleep, but I thought: Destiny.
Then I was properly awake.
I debated if I should check on her or let her have her privacy. I could tell that towards the end, she’d started to feel a bit crowded by me, which was understandable because she was under massive stress and probably, sadly, not used to people showing her much concern.
But I really needed a wee.
I wasn’t averse to weeing outside, but I would sleep so much better if I knew she was OK.
I deliberated. If I snuck in her room, perhaps I could use the bathroom without waking her. I looked in my glove compartment and found a torch – that decided it for me. I could get in, check she was OK and use the bathroom without turning on the light and the fan, and get out again before waking her. Another of the benefits of my army training was that I knew how to be quiet.
I got out, shook myself a bit and shut the car door carefully. I crossed the silent car park in moonlight. I tried the reception door. Locked. It took me a second to remember to hold up my key card – a small green light flashed and I was in. I had imagined having to give an explanation to a receptionist, someone who would be suspicious of me wanting to access my room in the middle of the night, but no one was there. Skirting past the lift, I turned the corner and took the stairs.
On the second floor, I moved quietly down the corridor. I came to Destiny’s room. Holding the key card up, I got the green light and was in.
*
I kept my torch low, not trusting her to not have dropped clothes on the floor. I did not need to trip. Conscious of my breathing as I stepped up to the bed, I thought of how I should best calm her if she were to wake up and see me standing over her in the dark – I didn’t want her to think I was up to no good. And it was dark: blackout curtains and no streetlights meant that until my eyes adjusted, I couldn’t have seen her even if she was standing in front of me. But I didn’t want to lurk in the dark, as it made me feel like I was doing something wrong. It was a difficult position to be in: to do the best for Destiny as she was a fifteen-year-old in my care, and yet to do nothing that might cause her to feel upset. She’d probably had enough of people in positions of trust behaving in ways that were creepy. I didn’t want to add to that.
As I lifted the beam of the torch from the floor to the bed, I rehearsed my response: Don’t worry, Destiny, I’m just checking on you and will leave right—
The bed was empty.
The sheets were smooth; the bed unslept in.
I whirled round, the beam of the torch turning with me. I expected to see her standing behind me, a ghostly figure with her hair loose, eyes wide with fright. But there was nobody there.
Perhaps she was in the bathroom. Even as I crossed to it, I knew it was unlikely as I had passed the open door to the bathroom as I came in and the light was off. I wanted to call her name, but was frightened that I’d disturb her in some troubled sleepwalking state. I imagined her facing the corner of the room like a zombie hiding from the light in some second-rate horror film. After I’d glanced in the bathroom, I felt that I could now turn on the light. Before I did, I said ‘Destiny?’ into the black.
In the silence that echoed back at me, I snapped the light on.
The bathroom fan whirred into action. Although the shower curtain revealed most of the bath, I thrashed it back, hoping.
I turned on the bedroom light as well. This room was also empty.
I checked the bed more carefully – perhaps it had been remade by her. But the sheets were tucked in and it looked like it had been done by a professional. I checked down the far side, almost hoping for the worst – that she’d fallen, hit her head, was passed out on the floor – at least she would be in the room, safe. But she wasn’t on the far side of the bed, between the bed and the window. I checked the wardrobes – empty. I checked the bathroom again, looking behind the door – nothing. I realised that I had to accept it, she was gone.
I felt an overwhelming surge of loss. I’d failed her. She was not safe. With that realisation, I felt the disappointment in myself wash over me. I collapsed onto the bed. The bed, the ultimate sign of what I’d tried to achieve, a place of safety, of comfort, was untouched, abandoned. She had stepped away from me into . . .
. . . into what? Where had she gone?
– you’re swinging, stop swinging, stop swinging, Mummy –
I remembered a slipper falling from a bare foot.
I remembered struggling to put it back on.
*
Destiny.
Her loss brought me back. I breathed in, sharply. Then I checked my watch; I gasped when I saw the time: 5:01. What had I been doing?
Once again I’d failed. Once I’d been so successful in my missions, I could only now accept that anything I had done well before was the result of some happenstance, a bit of luck. The reality was, just as I had let Billy down, I had also let Destiny down – I had failed to save them both.
I put my face in my hands, wanting to feel sadness, wanting to cry. Self-hatred dug needles in my heart, and I embraced the feeling. There were no surprises. My loathing was familiar. It was my friend, my lover, my parent.
It was correct that I should fe
el that way. I was not a saviour but had only taken her further away from the social services who knew her. Perhaps they’d been on the verge of rescuing her. Since I’d rung them and alerted them that a stranger had impersonated a care worker to give false reassurances about Destiny’s safety, perhaps they had decided to remove her from school. I imagined them driving up to the school as I was driving Destiny away to an imagined safety, when really I was only putting her in danger.
I hated myself. I hated my actions. At that point, I came the closest I had ever come to the self-awareness that some people have, that some people seem so effortlessly to evaluate themselves and their lives with, but had always eluded me. I realised that I’d tried to do the right thing, because I had failed so spectacularly with doing the right thing with Billy. As I realised this, my hands clenched into fists. Then I saw what was lying on the floor in front of me.
A condom wrapper.
My breath escaped from me as if I had been punched in the stomach. The square foil packet, ripped along one edge, was bent over almost as if it winked at me.
I sat up in disgust and then I saw it.
Like a flattened slug, the condom lay on the floor, spilling its slimy contents behind it. It had been dropped by some foul man without even doing the courtesy of tying a knot. I thought of the man with the gun and thought: I know you.
I stood, embracing my raised heart rate and the coursing adrenalin that shot through my veins. I may not have my army rifle any more, but I still had me. And with me, this guy was going to get a fight.
And then, after I had killed him, I was going to take her back. Make her safe.
I would not fail this time.
Saturday
05:25
Jenni
When I was a kid, I thought, as I sat in my car staring at my army knife, you knew you were late home when you heard the electric whine of the milk cart. Now milk came, not in glass bottles topped with bird-pecked foil, but in plastic containers from Tesco. Now milk cost less than water. Now the dairy farmers farmed in debt; the plastic scums our seas and the electric carts rust in silence.