Taking Liberties (Liberty Chapman)

by Helen Black

  He nodded, fished in his pocket and pulled out a baggie of brown. ‘Is this what you’re after?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What have we said about manners, Daisy?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said.

  ‘I haven’t got any needles.’

  ‘I’ll chase it,’ she said.

  He brought out a rectangle of tin foil and sprinkled the powder on to it. ‘I’ve never seen the point of this stuff, if I’m being honest, Daisy.’ He pushed a metal tube into her mouth and flicked his lighter. Daisy’s heart jolted with longing. ‘The few times I’ve tried it, I’ve just fallen asleep, you get me?’

  ‘So what do you use for the come-down?’ she asked, her eyes on the powder, which was beginning to bubble and release its delicious smoke.

  ‘Lucozade and will-power,’ he answered, with a laugh. ‘Brown’s a mug’s game,’ he said. ‘But I ain’t sitting here with you in a pool of shit, piss and vomit, that’s for sure, so get on with it.’

  She brought the tube to the smoke and inhaled, letting the duvet close around her. She felt it reheating her to the very core until she liquefied.

  As her head began to drop, he pulled the foil away. ‘More,’ she mumbled, the tube falling out of her mouth into her lap.

  ‘Nah.’ He took the foil to the window ledge and placed it next to the roll of tape. ‘I need you firing on all cylinders.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Or a couple anyway.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Phone calls to make.’

  Daisy tried to lift her head but her neck was molten. ‘The Greenwoods?’

  ‘Yup.’ He came back over to her, knelt down and grabbed her chin. ‘We’ve let ’em sweat all night over what’s happened to poor little Frankie.’

  Daisy’s eyelids began to droop until she felt them being forcibly dragged open.

  ‘Ten minutes and we’re going to make the call,’ he said. ‘Get yourself together.’

  Jay’s hair was a mess and there was a white mark on the collar of his wrinkled black shirt. ‘Did you go to bed last night?’ Liberty asked.

  Jay shrugged, and walked across the room to the bar, picking up a pair of discarded leopard-print stilettos that had been left on the stage. At the bar, he slung them into the corner and poured himself a glass of tomato juice. ‘Want one?’ He didn’t wait for her to answer but reached for another bottle of juice, held the top against the edge of the bar and brought his hand down with a smack, sending the bottle top skidding across the floor.

  Liberty took the drink, watched as Jay poured a slug of vodka into his own. ‘I’ve just come from the Butcher’s Arms,’ she said. ‘Frankie was in there yesterday with some bloke going by the name of Brixton Dave.’

  ‘What sort of name is that when it’s at home?’ asked Jay.

  ‘I imagine it’s someone called Dave, who comes from Brixton,’ Liberty replied. ‘Not especially imaginative but there you go.’

  ‘Who the fuck does our Frankie know from Brixton?’

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to tell me that.’

  The sound of the door opening and the click-clack of heels made them both look up. ‘Any more calls?’ asked Mel, resplendent in a skin tight black leather skirt.

  Liberty raised an eyebrow at Jay. ‘I trust her with my life,’ he said.

  Mel sashayed towards them, her eyes on Jay’s glass. She took it from him, sniffed and put it down on the bar with a loud clink. ‘You need to keep a clear head, sunshine.’

  Jay pressed a thumb into the dark circles under each eye. ‘Have you ever heard of a Brixton Dave?’

  ‘Are you taking the piss?’ Mel asked.

  ‘Some bloke from London that Frankie met up with yesterday,’ said Jay. ‘Calls himself Brixton Dave.’

  Mel’s skirt creaked as she walked around to the back of the bar, flicking on the pumps with one hand, jettisoning a plastic plate full of dried lemon segments into the sink with the other. Aggressively, she turned on the tap, stepping deftly out of the path of the spray. ‘The only folk Frankie knows from London are her,’ said Mel, with a jerk of the head at Liberty, ‘and that lot he met in Spain.’ She snapped off the tap and pressed the waste-disposal unit, setting in motion a gurgling and burping noise as the lemons disappeared. ‘He didn’t shut up about them for months, remember?’

  Jay shook his head.

  ‘Trouble is, you and Crystal never bleeding listen to him,’ said Mel.

  ‘He talks too much shite,’ Jay replied.

  ‘Don’t I know it.’ Mel picked up Jay’s now abandoned Bloody Mary and took a drink, pulled a face and searched around until she found a bottle of Lea & Perrins. Two good shakes later she took another sip and licked her lips. ‘I’d make a few calls to Marbella if I were you,’ she said.

  Chapter 16

  January 1986

  I should never have got lippy with Mrs Cole, should I? The old cow’s only gone and said she doesn’t want me to go to her house. Apparently, I make her feel ‘uncomfortable’. So, now I have to see the kids at a contact centre, a.k.a. a church hall where the heating’s on the blink.

  We’re all sitting here in our coats, staring into our pop. It’s that watery I can see the bottom of my cup. ‘Did you get some nice Christmas presents?’ I ask.

  Jay does the zip of his anorak right up to the top so that his mouth and nose are hidden. I know it’s cold in here, but he’s just making a point. It’s my fault and we all know it.

  ‘Some gloves and some pyjamas,’ says Crystal.

  I nod and smile. I’m pretty sure they need stuff like that, but you’d think Mrs Cole would get them a game or something as well. ‘I’ve got you a present each,’ I say. At that all three of them perk up. Even Jay. Out of my rucksack I pull three cardboard and plastic boxes, each with a blue-bodied Smurf inside. Papa Smurf for Jay, with his red legs and hat, white beard down to his chest. Jokey Smurf for Frankie, his tongue lolling out of the corner of his grin. And Smurfette for Crystal, high heels and blonde hair running down her back. They rip open the packaging, even Jay, who says he’s too old for stuff like this, but secretly bloody loves it and will play for hours with his little figurine, talking to it and listening to its reply.

  The social worker comes over from the corner of the hall where she was reading the Sun. ‘What’s this?’ she asks.

  ‘Christmas presents,’ I say. ‘Late but still . . .’

  She gives me a funny look and I worry she thinks I nicked them.

  ‘Mr Reid gave me a gift voucher,’ I tell her. ‘I used it to buy these.’

  The social worker nods and goes to pick up Papa Smurf, whom Jay is balancing on the top of his hand. Jay snatches him away before she can touch him. ‘I’m just not sure Mrs Cole will be too happy,’ she says. ‘She and her husband have strong feelings about commercial merchandise.’

  I don’t even know what that is. ‘They’re just Smurfs,’ I say.

  ‘It might have been better to check with me first, Elizabeth.’

  I think of all the things I could have bought in Smiths with that voucher. The new LP by Sade. A book called Lucky that everybody at school says is ace and has loads of sex in it. Even though the lady at the till might not have sold it to me because I’m not eighteen (are books like films at the pictures?) I could have tried. Worst case, I could have bought loads of sweets and comics with my voucher. ‘I can’t take them back.’ I wave the ripped packaging at her. ‘They won’t let me.’

  ‘Perhaps you could keep them,’ she says. ‘Bring them with you when the next visit is arranged.’

  ‘And when will that be?’

  She goes pink. She knows full well that I’ve hardly seen anything of the kids even though I’ve been asking and asking. ‘I’m not the person you need to talk to about that,’ she says.

  I jump up, making my chair scrape against the floor behind me. ‘So who is?’ My shouting echoes around the hall. ‘Who gets to decide this stuff?’

  She flaps her hands up and down, like she’s patting a dog with ea
ch one. ‘Calm down, Elizabeth.’

  ‘I am calm,’ I say.

  Frankie starts to snivel in the way that used to drive Mam doolally-tap.

  ‘Look now,’ she says to me. ‘The little ones are upset.’

  See, this is what they do. They try to blame you. Even when it’s them who cause all the ructions.

  Suddenly Papa Smurf flies through the air and hits the social worker on the arm. Startled, her mouth makes an O. Then Jokey hits her other arm and she takes a step back, but not before Smurfette whistles towards her and pings her right on the forehead.

  ‘Look now,’ I say to her. ‘The kids are upset.’

  Crystal arrived at the Black Cherry and crossed towards them, hair bouncing, mobile in hand. If she’d had the same trouble sleeping as Jay, she didn’t look it. She was wearing fresh clothes and her eyes were bright.

  ‘Well, look at you three,’ said Mel, with a wry smile. ‘I’d take a bet that you were a right bloody handful as kids.’

  Liberty ignored her. There was no way she could know how good they’d tried to be. How quiet. How invisible. Instead she filled Crystal in on the Brixton connection.

  ‘Might be them blokes he met in Marbella,’ said Mel.

  ‘We should never have sent him there,’ said Crystal.

  Jay shook his head tiredly. ‘You know why we did it.’

  Liberty was about to ask, when Crystal’s mobile rang. She held it up and nodded. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Crystal?’ It was Daisy, but her voice was slurred. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve got the instruc . . .’ Daisy’s voice trailed away.

  ‘Daisy?’ Crystal snapped. ‘Daisy?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Her words were heavy and dull. ‘I’ve got the instructions. You need to bring five hundred grand in cash, okay?’

  ‘Where?’ asked Crystal. ‘Where do we need to bring it?’

  ‘I’ll let you know.’ The line went dead.

  They looked at one another. If it hadn’t felt real before, it certainly did now. Whoever had Frankie and Daisy had just demanded half a million pounds.

  ‘We should go to Brixton,’ said Liberty.

  Crystal rolled her eyes. ‘Brixton’s a big place, I hear. We can’t just turn up and ask around for a man called Dave.’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Jay. ‘We don’t need to be getting off on some wild-goose chase.’

  ‘Just hear me out,’ said Liberty. ‘Our best guess right now is that Frankie’s in Brixton so the chances are we’re going to get a call later, telling us to get the money down there. Whoever has him will control this. But if we’re already there, we might be able to find out where they’re keeping him, and even if we can’t, we can be at the drop-off point well before they’re expecting us.’ She took a breath. ‘We might even get there before they do.’

  Crystal shook her head. ‘It’s a long shot, given this Brixton thing could be nothing to do with it. And even if it is, we’ve got to get the cash together. Unless you’ve got half a bar sitting around.’

  Liberty had some cash reserves, but nowhere near that amount. She’d need to sell investments, probably her flat, to get her hands on that amount of money.

  ‘Thought not,’ said Crystal.

  Mel put down her Bloody Mary. The tomato juice clung to the sides of the glass in thick red patches that made Liberty’s stomach flip. ‘Going to Brixton’s the smart play,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not,’ Crystal replied.

  ‘Of course it is, just not for all three of you.’ She pointed an acrylic nail at Liberty. ‘This one should go with Crystal.’ She turned to Jay. ‘You sort the money.’

  Liberty glanced at her sister. If she had to go with one sibling, Jay would have been the easier option. The face on Crystal spelled out that she wasn’t best pleased either.

  ‘If it turns out to be bollocks, you can come straight back home,’ said Mel to Crystal. ‘No harm done.’

  ‘It just feels like we shouldn’t be going our separate ways at a time like this,’ said Jay.

  Mel shrugged. ‘Sometimes it makes more sense.’

  Sol sucked on his e-cig. The cartridge was redcurrant flavour, or that was what he’d guessed from the picture of little red balls. It was like taking a toke on burning Ribena. He switched it off in disgust and pulled out a packet of Marlboro Lights. He supposed he should ask Hassani if she minded, but what was the point? He was going to smoke one anyway.

  ‘You think I should let this go, don’t you?’ she asked.

  He opened the car window a crack and flicked his ash. It would be a hell of a lot easier to let this thing with the Greenwoods go, a lot wiser in the long run too, no doubt. But who was he to lecture?

  ‘I just think that sometimes you have to commit,’ she said. ‘Do the right thing, you know?’

  Sol blew smoke out of the side of his mouth. ‘As long as that’s what this is about.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Ego,’ he said.

  Hassani stretched her feet into the footwell. She was wearing black Converse, the white laces clean and new. ‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘You strike me as someone who knows when you’re right.’

  Sol laughed. ‘A long time ago another copper told me that this job was like any other addiction, that the buzz was right up there with sex and drink and drugs.’

  ‘Well, those three things are entirely missing from my daily life,’ Hassani replied.

  He was about to make a crack about violins when the door to the Black Cherry opened outwards and all three Greenwoods stepped into the sunshine and put on shades. ‘Hang on,’ said Hassani. ‘It’s the Reservoir Dogs.’

  The two sisters were speaking to Jay Greenwood who was nodding profusely. He hugged them both and stepped back inside the club.

  ‘Looks like we’re splitting up again,’ Sol told Hassani.

  ‘Can I please take the solicitor?’ she begged. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can stand it out here.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Sol replied. ‘Now sneak back to your own car while that pair have their backs turned.’

  Hassani groaned, but did as she was told, taking her chance to jump from Sol’s car and dive back into her own, leaving him alone, as Liberty Chapman and Crystal Greenwood walked towards the silver Porsche.

  It looked like he was getting two for the price of one, Sol thought.

  As Liberty pulled out of the car park, a Muslim woman in hijab turned away from her in an almost aggressive motion. The body language was mirrored by Crystal who leaned on her left shoulder, her head facing the window. ‘You know you don’t have to come,’ Liberty said. ‘You could stay here with Jay.’

  Crystal snapped her head around. ‘I bet you’d love that.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Arrive in town in your big posh car.’ Crystal patted the leather seat. ‘Save the day single-handed.’

  Liberty sighed. ‘First of all, I bet you have a perfectly nice car of your own, and if you don’t, it’s not because you can’t afford one. Second, you said inside the club that going to Brixton was a total waste of time so how on earth am I meant to save the day?’

  ‘Tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.’

  Liberty turned on the radio. There was no point in trying to reason with her sister. Neither spoke as they made their way through streets filled with people enjoying the weekend sunshine abandoned tops revealing soon-to-be-pink shoulders and backs. Liberty’s mobile rang and the Bluetooth picked it up, flashing Ronald’s number on the caller ID. ‘I have to take this,’ she said to Crystal.

  ‘Liberty, darling.’ Ronald’s voice filled the car. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ she said.

  ‘Any news on the Rance case?’ Ronald asked. ‘The old man’s been on the blower saying he’s less than happy with the current state of affairs.’

  Liberty snorted. ‘He ought to be over the moon. His nasty little son got bail, which is more than he deserves.’

  There
was a pause. She’d gone too far. ‘I’m doing everything I can to find the victim,’ she said. ‘I’m on my way to a tip-off now. Hopefully she’ll be there and I can get her to formally retract her statement.’

  ‘Then the prosecution will drop their case?’ Ronald asked tersely.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Good,’ said Ronald. ‘Call me when it’s done.’ He hung up without a goodbye.

  She glanced at Crystal and spotted a smirk playing around those rosebud lips. ‘What?’ she demanded, but Crystal just shook her head. ‘Something funny, is it?’

  ‘I just never had you down as playing anyone’s bitch.’

  Liberty slammed her foot on the brake, bringing the car to a juddering halt that sent Crystal flying forward as far as her seatbelt would stretch.

  ‘What the fuck?’ she shouted.

  ‘Just get out,’ Liberty shouted back.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said get out.’

  When Crystal didn’t move, Liberty unfastened her own belt, threw open her door and stalked around the bonnet of the car. She’d had a gutful. Crystal, Rance, Ronald, they could all go to Hell. She was done with people taking the piss. She yanked open the passenger door. ‘Out.’

  A group of kids who were chasing each other with Super Soakers, looked round, nudging each other at the exciting prospect of a bit of street-side argy-bargy. Liberty gave them her best nothing-to-see-here look, but they weren’t going to be so easily dismissed.

  ‘Come on, Lib,’ said Crystal, smiling.

  Liberty was incandescent with rage. Which of them had been itching for a row from the start? Was she the one calling Crystal someone’s bitch?

  ‘You gonna crack her?’ asked one of the boys, his Leeds United shirt dark with wet patches.

  ‘Yeah, Lib.’ Crystal was laughing now. ‘You gonna crack me one?’

  ‘It’s not funny,’ said Liberty.

  ‘It’s not not funny,’ Crystal replied.

  Oh, God. This was what having a family was like. Constantly interrupted. Never getting the last word. Being mercilessly ridiculed. Liberty had forgotten how that felt. She held out the car key to Crystal. ‘You’d better drive or I might be tempted to toss you out on the motorway.’