by Jim Eldridge
Shannon pushed herself up from the bar top, bafflement on her face.
‘I thought he wanted to shag me,’ she said plaintively.
‘He changed his mind,’ snapped Kerrys. ‘Come on, it’s definitely time to go.’
She grabbed Shannon’s arm and dragged her off the stool. Shannon immediately fell to the floor. Quickly, strongly, Kerrys hauled Shannon to her feet. She shot a quick glance at Fraser, who was battling his way through the crush to get to them. Fraser’s mates were behind him. He was mob-handed.
6
Gritting her teeth to hold up the weight of Shannon’s collapsing body, Kerrys steered her as fast as she could through the crowd towards the back door of the club. If she could get Shannon out to the back alley, they might be safe. God, how come someone as frail as Shannon was so heavy all of a sudden?
Shannon ran. At least, she thought she was running. All she knew was she was bumping into things — people, tables, chairs — and someone was holding her up as they ran. Kerrys! Kerrys was her hero!
They crashed through the doors of the fire exit and out into the alley. The sudden rush of cold night air hit Shannon and suddenly all the nausea that had been sitting uncomfortably halfway between her stomach and her throat rose up. She just managed to bend over in time as she vomited.
‘Shit!’ groaned Kerrys.
Kerrys looked around. At any second the doors would burst open and the boys would be out here, wanting blood, her blood. One she might be able to take, but not three of them, not drunk as they were, and not with Shannon needing protection.
‘Quick! Hide!’ snapped Kerrys, and she pushed Shannon, who stumbled forward and then fell behind the dumpsters, where newspapers and takeout cartons had gathered, blown by the alley wind.
The doors of the club crashed open and Fraser and his mates burst out.
‘There!’ yelled Fraser in triumph, pointing at Kerrys.
Behind the dumpsters, Shannon heard Kerrys shout out something, and then Kerrys ran away down the alley, Fraser and the other boys chasing after her.
Shannon slumped against the dumpster. She knew the ground she was sitting on must be wet and cold, but she could hardly feel it. Her body was numb. The inside of her mouth tasted like vomit and fur.
I’m going to die, she thought. I came out to get laid and I’m going to die. That’s the story of my life.
She closed her eyes and felt herself sliding down the dumpster. Felt the water from the puddles beneath the old newspapers begin to seep through to her skin.
Dead in an alley, she thought. They’ll find me dead in an alley.
The sound of running footsteps down the alley and drawing near jolted her, and she opened her eyes. Fraser, she thought. He’s killed Kerrys and now he’s come back for me.
She struggled to sit up, but fell back down. Her head ached. The back of her eyes ached. Her mouth felt like she had swallowed wallpaper paste. Not that she knew what wallpaper paste tasted like, but she was sure it would taste like this.
A hand gripped her shoulder roughly.
‘Shhh!’ whispered a voice. Kerrys! ‘They’ve gone.’
Shannon tried to focus on Kerrys’s face, but it kept going backwards and forwards.
‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘One minute everything was fine, and then . . . then it wasn’t.’
Kerrys gave a wry grin.
‘I think they liked you,’ she said.
‘Then . . . why did they chase after us like that?’ asked Shannon, her tone one of bewilderment.
Kerrys gave a shrug.
‘Who knows? Maybe you’re that desirable.’ She grinned, slightly more relaxed now. ‘If we could figure men out, we’d be millionairesses.’ She hauled Shannon to her feet and took in their setting: the dumpsters, the newspapers and takeout boxes, the crap. ‘Slumdog millionairesses,’ she added wryly. She released Shannon. ‘Can you stand?’
Shannon tested herself. Both feet firmly on the ground. She nodded. Just a little nod, nothing that might make her head go into orbit or make her vomit again.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘OK,’ said Kerrys. ‘I think you should go home. Be safe there.’
‘OK,’ agreed Shannon. She swayed slightly, took a deep breath, then stood firm again.
The note, she thought.
‘Kerrys,’ she asked. ‘when we were all together in the coffee bar, did you see a note?’
‘A note?’ echoed Kerrys, puzzled.
‘In an envelope,’ said Shannon.
‘Who from?’ asked Kerrys.
Who from? Shannon repeated to herself. Kerrys hadn’t seen it or she’d say. So, no note.
She took another deep breath, making sure she was OK, and then began to walk. Time to go home. Look for the note.
Kerrys appeared walking beside her, her face concerned.
‘You wanna lift?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Shannon. ‘Thank you.’ Inside, she thought: I want someone to help me. I want to be held. I want to be loved and cared for. She looked at Kerrys: Kerrys, who saved her life tonight. Help me again, Kerrys, she begged silently. Sort out my life for me. She wanted to cry out.
Instead, Kerrys just nodded. ‘I’ll call you in the morning!’ she said, and walked off.
Shannon nodded. Not a big nod that might shake her head off, but enough to show that she’d heard. As she watched Kerrys walk away, she felt her heart ache even more and she felt close to breaking down and sobbing. Everybody left her, sooner or later.
Shannon walked. Around her the city seemed as alive as ever: the sounds of sirens, traffic, shouts. This city never sleeps, thought Shannon.
She walked until she felt her head was clear.
I could have got laid tonight, she thought. Instead I ended up lying in an alley and nearly got killed. My life is shit.
She reached her house and unlocked the front door as quietly as she could. She didn’t know what time it was, but she knew it was late. Really late. Early morning, in fact. Her dad would be asleep. The last thing she wanted right now was to wake him and have a scene about her coming in late, especially in the state she was in. She knew she smelt of stale vomit and booze.
She crept into the hallway and headed for the stairs. As she did she saw a movement in the living room to her right. There was someone there! Was it her mother, come back?
Urgently, she switched on the light.
Her dad sat on the couch, wide awake, staring at her, his eyes red-rimmed, his face pale.
‘Jesus, Dad!’ stammered Shannon. ‘You scared the life out of me!’
Her dad sagged back against the couch, his face still etched with pain.
‘I thought you’d left me too,’ he said dully.
Shannon shook her head and forced a smile.
‘Never,’ she said firmly. ‘Go to bed, Dad.’
She switched off the light and went back out to the hallway and then up the stairs to her room.
She checked the clock: 2 a.m. What time did that make it in New York? How many hours’ difference was it? And which way? Were they ahead or behind? One thing she was sure of — it wasn’t two o’clock in the morning there.
She picked up her phone and dialled Cass’s number.
Cass answered straight away. ‘Cass!’
‘Cass, it’s Shannon!’
‘Oh. Hi, Shaz.’
There was something strange about Cass’s voice. Some weird note in it, like she was crying.
‘How’s it going over there in New York?’ asked Shannon.
A pause, then Cass’s voice came back: ‘Yeah, it’s great.’ Cheerful again. The same old Cass. Maybe it had just been atmospherics. After all, she was a long way away.
‘Have you seen a note anywhere?’ asked Shannon, feeling tension rising in her as she asked.
‘A note?’ said Cass, surprised.
‘Yes, a note,’ said Shannon.
There was a crackle of interference, then Cass said, ‘Nope. Listen, I have to go, Shaz.’
‘This note �
��’ began Shannon.
‘I didn’t see one,’ said Cass.
‘It’s really important,’ said Shannon, hoping that Cass would pick up the desperate urgency in her voice, the need for help.
‘Sorry,’ said Cass. ‘Look, I gotta go. Bye.’
Then the line went dead.
7
Shannon fixed herself a fry-up breakfast. Egg, sausage, bacon, beans. Just the sort of thing her body wanted. After a night’s vomiting, a greasy fry-up filled the spaces. The TV news was on, still going on about the diamond robbery. ‘The figure is said to run to millions,’ said the newsreader, his tone serious and sombre. ‘Amsterdam’s close-knit diamond community . . .’
Shannon changed channels to a music station. Who cared what Amsterdam’s diamond community thought.
As she sat down at the table with her fry-up, her dad walked in. God, he looked ill. Deathly pale. Dark rings under his eyes. He sat down at the table with her, his expression heavy with the words he was too unhappy to say out loud. Shannon looked at him, hesitated, then asked awkwardly, ‘Do you blame me, Dad? For what happened.’
Her dad shook his head.
‘It was nothing to do with you,’ he said. He took a deep breath, then forced a fake smile. ‘It’s probably best, your mum leaving. For her.’
‘I feel like it’s me, Dad,’ pressed Shannon, now she’d brought the matter up. ‘Jo’s sister said I was weird. Jo didn’t wanna talk. I called Cass last night and she didn’t want to talk to me either. And Kerrys. She said she’d call me this morning, and she hasn’t.’ She shook her head unhappily.
Her father reached out and laid his hand gently on hers.
‘It’s not you, love,’ he said.
Shannon took her hand away and cut savagely into a piece of sausage, forking it into her mouth.
‘It must be,’ she said. ‘Otherwise why are none of my friends speaking to me? And that’s why no men want me.’ The expression on her face hardened. ‘It’s like they all know what I did and they don’t want to come near me.’
Her father moved nearer, his face concerned and worried for her, reaching out to put his arms around her. ‘No . . .’ he began, but Shannon shook her head and stood up, avoiding his arm.
‘I’ve gotta go,’ she mumbled.
And she headed for the door, leaving her fry-up unfinished.
I have to get out, she thought. I have to make a connection with someone. Anyone.
Shannon got off her bike outside Kerrys’s house. She was just about to chain it up when the front door burst open and Kerrys stormed out, looking back into the house and shouting angrily.
‘You know what?’ she yelled. ‘Fuck all of you!’
Kerrys’s brother, Manuel, appeared in the doorway and seemed about to rush after Kerrys, but she stormed down the path, her face a picture of sheer fury. Shannon tried to step in her way.
‘Kerrys,’ she said accusingly, ‘you didn’t call me . . .’
Kerrys didn’t even look at her.
‘Go away, Shannon,’ she growled angrily.
And then she had pushed past her and was gone.
Shannon turned back towards the house, where Manuel was watching. But Manuel just turned away, and then the front door slammed shut.
Shannon sat on a bench in the covered way by the Cappuccino Cafe, her art bag and her pad on her lap. Sometimes when she felt bad she drew — pictures of what she wanted things to be, or how things had been. But right now she felt too hurt to even start to sketch. Kerrys had blanked her. Told her to go away. She thought they were true friends. They’d been friends since they were little kids. Last night Kerrys had saved her life. But today, she wouldn’t even talk to her. Wouldn’t even look at her!
Shuffling footsteps came near. She looked up. It was Dillon and some of his crew. They seemed to be looking for something, as if they’d dropped something on the ground. Dillon looked up and saw her, and Shannon’s heart gave a little jump. She smiled at him, just a little smile. Dillon frowned.
‘I know you,’ he said, puzzled. ‘How do I know you?’
Shannon felt her throat go dry. What did she say? He’d seen her with the other girls. She felt a dagger of disappointment that he knew them but didn’t remember seeing her before. Not properly. But he was talking to her now! What should she say? She opened her mouth to start to explain, about Kerrys and the others, when his phone rang.
Oh no! Not now! Please don’t let him go and walk off talking to someone! Not now!
Dillon answered it.
‘Yeah, Tee.’
Tee, thought Shannon.That had been the boy at the canal yesterday with Manuel.
‘Today?’ frowned Dillon. He looked doubtful for a moment, then nodded. ‘I can be there later.’ He listened again, then replied, ‘I’ll get them back now. Yeah, them lot are here. We’ll make it look right.’ He nodded again. ‘All right, I’m coming.’
He hung up and went to walk off, and Shannon’s heart sank with misery. Please let him talk to me! she begged.
As if by a miracle, Dillon stopped and looked again at her, a quizzical expression on his face.
‘You never told me where I know you from,’ he said.
Shannon felt her heart racing.
‘I don’t live far from you,’ she said, fighting to appear cool and calm. ‘I saw you here yesterday, running.’
Dillon nodded as he remembered. Suddenly he smiled at her, and that smile seemed to light up her whole body.
‘Listen, you’re not usually my type of gash, but you’re all right still. So I feel that you and me should link up. Gimme the digits and I’ll ding you this week. Get me?’
Shannon looked at him. Was he really asking her out, or was she reading more into it than he was saying? She gulped, and forced a casual shrug.
‘Not really, no,’ she said airily. But then she gave him a big smile, to let him know she liked him. Really liked him.
Dillon smiled back at her. ‘You’re nice,’ he said. ‘Gimme your number.’
He handed her his phone and she typed her number in, then handed his phone back to him. He gave her a nod and a wink, and then headed back to his crew, who were now waiting for him. She noticed a few of them look at her suspiciously, but she didn’t care. He had talked to her! And he liked her!
Her own phone rang. It was Jo.
‘Jo,’ said Shannon. She felt excited. She wanted to tell Jo what had just happened with Dillon. Someone she really liked fancied her back!
‘Hey, Shaz,’ said Jo. ‘Sorry I rushed off like that yesterday. Work. What’s up?’
Suddenly Shannon remembered the note her mum had told her she’d put in her bag. It must have fallen on the floor in the cafe when that bag-snatcher had grabbed Cass’s bag.
‘Listen, Jo, did you see a note yesterday? In the Cappuccino?’
‘A note about what?’
Shannon was just about to explain, when Jo cut in with, ‘Listen, I gotta go. Come to my work later. We’ll talk there.’
There was a click, and Jo had gone.
I will, thought Shannon. I’ll go and ask her about the note, and tell her about Dillon.
She suddenly realised she was smiling.
Surprisingly, wonderfully, things were getting better.
8
Night was falling as Shannon arrived at Ted’s Mart, the one-stop convenience store where Jo worked. As she rested her bike against the wall she thought about her day. Yes, there was still the ache of her mum walking out like that, but then there had been Dillon. She’d spent the rest of the day by the canal, sketching — the buildings, the canal path, the people — and somehow Dillon kept creeping into her drawings, sometimes on his own, sometimes with her.
Jo will freak when I tell her, she thought excitedly. Me and a boy.
She got to the mart, but the door was shut. Shannon frowned. Surely it couldn’t be shut — it was ‘Ted’s 24-Hour Mart’. It never closed. Ever.
The door must have got caught inside, a latch slipping shut or som
ething. She banged on the glass. There was no immediate answer. No one opened the door.
This is ridiculous, thought Shannon. I know Jo’s in there. She told me she’d be at work. She banged again, harder this time, and the sound reverberated like a drum. This time the door opened.
Shannon walked in. The place seemed strangely empty, but it wasn’t that late. A few young men were standing around, looking awkward. There were a couple of members of staff in their bright orange and yellow uniforms. Jo was behind the counter. Beside her was another young man, facing away from Shannon, his hooded top covering his head, his hands in his pockets.
No one was smiling or doing anything. OK, most people who worked at Ted’s didn’t smile much — it was long hours for low pay. But none of the customers seemed to be buying anything. They were all just hanging around, like they were waiting for something, or someone. Even Jo was looking at her like she had something weird about her.
‘Hey, Jo!’ called Shannon, and headed towards the counter.
Jo shook her head and gave Shannon a hard, unfriendly look. Unsmiling.
‘I can’t talk now, Shaz,’ she snapped. ‘You need to go.’
Shannon stopped and stared at Jo. What was going on? Why was Jo treating her like this?
‘But . . . you told me to come!’ she protested.
‘Yeah, and now I’m telling you to go,’ said Jo curtly.
‘But . . .’ began Shannon, stunned.
‘Go!’ repeated Jo, harshly and brutally this time. ‘Get out!’
Shannon felt her eyes fill up with tears.
‘But I’m here to talk to you! Why are you behaving like this?’
Jo dropped her eyes, then looked at the young men and the other staff. Then she raised her gaze to Shannon again. There was absolutely no warmth in her face for Shannon, just . . . coldness.
‘Shaz, will you just piss off!’
Shannon wanted to go. She was being humiliated here in front of everyone, she knew that, but she had to know why Jo was doing this dreadful thing to her. What had she done to deserve it?
‘Why, Jo?’ she begged. ‘Why?’