Taking Liberties (Liberty Chapman)

by Helen Black

  Chapman put up her hands in surrender. ‘Simple mistake.’

  The boy shook his head wildly. ‘Nah, nah, nah. You didn’t make no mistake.’

  ‘Look, I thought I’d paid for four grams,’ Chapman said.

  ‘Four grams! Fuck that.’

  The boy reached into his waistband and pulled something out. Sol heard Chapman’s sharp intake of breath before he saw the gun. ‘Come on now.’ He kept his voice very calm. ‘There’s no need for this.’

  The boy turned and pointed the gun at Sol. ‘Don’t tell me what I need. I will tell you what I need.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Sol, his eyes locked on the barrel of the gun. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘I need to know what this bitch is doing in our area, causing strife to me and my crew.’

  Sol nodded slowly. He was outnumbered six to one and at least one of the six had a weapon. Maybe all six did. The odds were not good. ‘I think she just came to buy some drugs,’ he said.

  The boy hawked up a mouthful of snot and spat.

  Behind him another younger in a black sweatshirt with a white skull emblazoned on the front laid down his bike. ‘And what about you?’ He squinted at Sol. ‘What you doing out here?’

  ‘I’m here with my friend,’ Sol replied. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘And where you from?’ the boy asked. ‘Manchester, is it?’

  ‘Leeds,’ Sol replied.

  ‘Same thing.’

  Even in these most dire circumstances Sol felt the strong desire to explain that that could not be further from the truth.

  ‘Man, this is fucked up,’ said the boy with the gun. ‘We got people coming from up there acting the Big I Am yesterday, then these two now.’ He looked around at the other boys. ‘I say we pop them.’

  Chapman, who already had her back against the wall, pushed herself even further into the brickwork. Sol took a breath. ‘Look, we don’t want any trouble,’ he said.

  ‘Too late,’ the boy spat.

  ‘Right, then.’ Sol was surprised when Chapman spoke and was even more surprised by how unruffled she sounded. Her ability to separate her voice from her obvious terror was impressive. Did that come from appearing in court? he wondered. ‘How about you take us to who’s in charge?

  ‘Chapman,’ he warned.

  ‘What? These are just bits of kids.’

  Sol groaned. All gangs had youngers. And, yes, they were just bits of kids. But they were bits of kids without any real boundaries. They took all the risks, both in terms of getting nicked, or getting hurt by rivals, and for what? A few quid to buy new trainers and to make a name for themselves. Chapman needed to tread very carefully here.

  ‘Come on, Dax,’ she said to the boy with the gun. ‘Someone’s sent you to come and get me, and I don’t think it’s Soft Lad in there without any front teeth.’

  Sol heard movement behind him. Then the blow came swiftly. A sharp jab to his kidneys. Pain exploded, ricocheting through his body, and he had to fight for breath. Then blackness.

  Having her vision removed left Liberty paralysed. Whatever had been pulled over her head seemed to prevent her from moving. It was as if a switch had been flipped and each muscle in her body stiffened. She was half pushed, half carried into a car, then out again. All she could do was try to breathe. Her feet could barely hold her as she was dragged through a door and inside.

  When the hood was pulled from her head and the light hit, like battery acid, the switch turned again, flooding her mouth, nose and ears. Every skin cell felt raw. A scream rose in her throat but caught as a man towered over her. ‘One sound and I will shut you up with this.’ He held up a roll of silver tape. ‘Under-stand?’ The scream was suffocating Liberty, but she held it in and nodded.

  ‘All right, then.’ He grabbed both her hands, yanked them out-stretched in front of her, pressed them together and taped the wrists. Then he dragged her backwards from the middle of the room to the wall. When she was close enough, he moved in front of her and shoved. The back of her skull banged against the wall and she slid down to her knees. The breath left Liberty as a shockwave of pain ran through her neck.

  She concentrated on her breathing, while the agony in her shoulders and head subsided and her eyes adjusted to the light. The man ignored her and taped her ankles. He was small in stature, slight even, but he had a wiry energy that frightened her. As he moved away, she saw that she wasn’t alone with him, but that there were two more figures: Sol Connolly, face down on the carpet, a rucksack over his head, and Daisy Clarke, also sitting, back against the wall, hair matted, with strands stuck to her cheeks.

  Liberty looked around the room wildly for Frankie but there was no one else.

  The man bent down, lifted the edge of the bag on Connolly’s head and spoke up it. ‘I’m gonna take this off, now. Not a word, okay? Not a sound.’ He waited, then removed it. Connolly’s face was contorted, his lips pulled back from his teeth. He heaved him across to the wall with the window, only one grunt escaping the policeman’s mouth when his back knocked against the plaster, then taped his hands and ankles in front of him. The man stepped back. ‘Well, ain’t this nice?’ He gave a grin showing teeth as ugly as his haircut. Liberty glanced at Connolly, but he still had his eyes squeezed shut and was biting his lip, presumably to stop himself crying out.

  ‘Now I’m going to step outside and speak to someone,’ said the man. ‘And you lot are going to be as good as gold and we can all be friends.’ He patted Connolly’s head, making him wince. ‘If you’re not going to be good, then that’s where things get tricky. I’d have to tape your mouths up, see.’ He waved the roll. ‘And that ain’t nice, not at all.’ He moved from Connolly to Daisy and grabbed her nose, pinching together her nostrils. ‘Especially if I do this.’

  Daisy’s eyes opened wide but she didn’t flinch. Liberty wanted to shout out, to tell him to stop.

  ‘Best thing you can hope for is that you pass out.’ The man released Daisy’s nose in disgust. ‘But you might throw up before that and choke on your own vomit, which, I’ll be honest, ain’t the most pleasant way to go.’

  Liberty swallowed hard, already able to taste bile in her throat.

  ‘Now I ain’t a monster. I don’t want anyone to die here. Do I, Daisy?’ He looked at her and she quickly shook her head. ‘But I ain’t about to let anyone cause me no trouble either, so it’s up to you how this goes.’

  He grinned at all three of them in turn and left the room.

  Chapter 22

  August 1986

  ‘Are you my solicitor, then?’ I ask.

  The woman looks up from the big stack of papers she’s reading and smiles at me. Right at me. Not like everyone else who can’t face me. ‘No,’ she says. ‘I’m a student, just working here in the holidays.’ She’s got this mad curly hair that she’s tried to rake back into a bun. It reminds me of our Crystal. ‘Mr Christian’s been held up in court but he’ll be back soon.’

  There’s a pink file on the desk between us with my name written on it in black marker. Next to it there’s a toy. Well, I think it’s a toy. It’s a silver metal stand thing, with four balls hanging from a bar. She sees me frowning at it. ‘It’s for stress,’ she says.

  I stare at it. What does she mean? She lifts the first ball, lets it swing so it hits the second, which swings and hits the third, which swings and hits the last. Then they all go backwards. She laughs. ‘I don’t know either. Give me a bloody punch-bag when things are doing my head in.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Though you’ve probably done enough punching, lady.’

  I feel myself go red and watch the balls hitting one another with a little click until they slow to a stop. ‘She called Geraldine a lezza,’ I say.

  ‘Your foster-mother?’ she asks.

  ‘Not any more,’ I say.

  ‘They’ve moved you again, have they?’ she asks.

  I nod. ‘What’s going to happen now? Will I have to go to court?’

  She flicks through the papers, running an ink-s
tained finger down the margins. When she finds what she’s looking for, she gives it a tap. ‘Well, it didn’t help matters when you called the arresting officer a “boz-eyed twat’’.’

  ‘No,’ I say.

  ‘But Mr Christian managed to convince them to offer you a caution. So, providing you keep your boxing gloves to yourself in future, you should be all right. You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t need a criminal record on top of everything else. Not with this thing with your dad hanging over you.’ She nods at me. ‘It’s up to you, though, where you go from here.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  She shrugs. ‘You can go the way everyone expects, getting into trouble an’ all that. No one would bat an eyelid, would they? Or you can show the likes of Stacey Lamb exactly what you’re made of.’ She laughs. ‘And I don’t mean by battering them.’

  ‘How can I do that?’

  She puts her hand on the file, pressing down on my name. ‘I’ve seen your school records. You’re clever, aren’t you?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘How clever do you think Stacey Lamb is?’

  ‘She’s virtually backward,’ I say.

  ‘Well, then.’

  When Mr Christian arrives to take me to the cop shop for my caution, she waves me goodbye. ‘Did Miss Chapman explain to you what’s going to happen?’ he asks.

  I nod. ‘She explained a lot of things to me.’

  Liberty listened intently until she was sure the man was far enough away. ‘I’m assuming that’s Brixton Dave,’ she said.

  Daisy didn’t react, but stared ahead, eyes heavy-lidded.

  ‘Daisy,’ Liberty hissed. ‘Daisy, look at me.’

  Daisy turned slowly towards her.

  ‘That’s Brixton Dave, yeah?’ asked Liberty.

  Daisy gave a slight nod.

  ‘And where’s Frankie?’ Daisy didn’t react. ‘Is he here?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘But you haven’t seen him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Heard him?’

  Daisy shook her head. Then she looked at Connolly, whose breathing had slowed to a jagged rasp. ‘You shouldn’t have got the police involved,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t,’ Liberty replied. ‘He bloody well followed me here.’

  ‘When him out there finds out what Sol is . . .’ Daisy let her words hang in the air. ‘It’s not going to end well.’

  ‘He won’t find out,’ Liberty replied.

  Daisy sniffed.

  ‘Well, I’m not going to tell them and I’m bloody certain he’s not,’ said Liberty. She looked around. Her bag was gone, with her purse and phone and everything else. Presumably Connolly had been searched too and had had his stuff taken. ‘Hey,’ she whispered to Connolly, as loudly as she dared. ‘There’s nothing on your phone to say what you are, is there?’

  Connolly looked as if he was about to respond but instead leaned forward and threw up, splashing his boots. Liberty wondered why on earth he was wearing boots on such a sunny day, but reasoned that right now he was probably glad. The Parmesan smell of stomach contents filled the room.

  Connolly spat and groaned. ‘Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?’

  ‘Is there anything on your phone?’ Liberty repeated.

  Connolly shook his head and spat out another gob of vomit and mucus.

  ‘What about your warrant card?’ Liberty asked.

  ‘At home,’ he said. ‘I’m not on duty. Now tell me what’s going on.’

  Liberty looked at Daisy, her hair in stiff dreadlocks, her top stained orange. ‘Do you want to do the honours?’

  Daisy sighed. ‘That bloke out there is someone Frankie met in Marbella. They kept in touch.’

  ‘Everyone likes a holiday romance that works out,’ said Liberty.

  Daisy ignored the crack. ‘They set up some sort of job together. I was meant to help.’

  ‘I’m assuming it didn’t go as planned.’

  ‘I tried to tell Frankie it was dodgy,’ said Daisy. ‘But you know how it is with him.’

  In truth, Liberty didn’t know how it was with Frankie. She could try to imagine, but she didn’t actually know. It was an unpleasant thought that this woman, with all her problems, knew him better than she, his own flesh and blood, did. ‘So he kidnapped you both?’ she said.

  Daisy nodded. ‘Got me to ring Crystal for the money.’

  Connolly stared at Liberty. ‘And that’s why you’re in Brixton?’ His chin was damp with vomit. ‘You should have called the police.’

  ‘Because you’ve been so accommodating to me and my family thus far,’ Liberty snapped.

  ‘You should have just paid up,’ Daisy mumbled.

  ‘Jay and Crystal are getting the cash together. In the meantime I figured out you were down here and thought we should try to see what’s going on.’

  Daisy snorted. ‘And how’s that working out for you?’

  A needle of pain lanced Liberty’s shoulder-blades. Right now she had to admit that things were not working out too well. She closed her eyes and tried to think, tried to work out the best way forward.

  ‘We need to stay calm,’ said Connolly. ‘See what the next move is.’

  Daisy raised an eyebrow. ‘I like you, Sol, I always have, but your trouble is, you don’t think like they do.’

  ‘Don’t I?’

  ‘Nah,’ she said. ‘Which is why you’re a good bloke. And why, right now, we’re completely fucked.’

  Outside the room, Brixton Dave was shouting. ‘What do you mean, you don’t know who they are? Didn’t I say you needed to find that out? I mean, how hard can it fucking be?’

  There was a mumbled response before Brixton Dave flew into the room, slamming the door behind him. He immediately went to Connolly and checked the tape on his hands and ankles. ‘Jesus,’ he roared when he realized there was puke on Connolly’s legs and wiped his hand down his jeans. Backing to the other side of the room, he sniffed his fingers. Then he gave the wall a swift kick, leaving a hole in the plaster. Another kick made Liberty’s whole body freeze.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘I need to know a few things.’

  Liberty and Connolly exchanged a look. They should tell this man absolutely nothing. Given the state he was in, the wrong information could send him over the edge.

  ‘I think we’ll start with Daisy here.’

  Daisy’s head shot up, her eyes wide. ‘I don’t know anything. How could I?’

  Brixton Dave smiled at her, pulled a knife from his back pocket and tapped the blade against his lower lip. The metal caught the light and cast a patch of white on the wall, like a small star.

  ‘I’ve been here the whole time,’ Daisy was gabbling. ‘I don’t know what’s been going on.’

  He danced his head from side to side in a maybe-maybe-not gesture and made towards her. When he reached the other side of the room, he slid down the wall so he was seated between her and Liberty. Daisy leaned away from him. ‘Now that’s not nice, is it?’ His words were addressed Liberty. ‘And I’ve been so nice to our Daisy.’

  Liberty couldn’t take her eyes off the knife. The steel was hard, the edge sharp. She could hear a repeated shushing noise, thought it was the man, then realized it was Daisy quietly crying.

  Brixton Dave shook his head. ‘See, now on top of puke I’m going to get snot, and that doesn’t make me happy. Not one little bit.’ He took Liberty’s chin in his hand, forced her to look away from the knife and into his face. His breath was like sour milk. ‘Why do you think Daisy’s behaving like this?’

  Liberty’s tongue felt thick and dry. It sat in her mouth like a dead thing.

  He squeezed tighter, pinching her skin, and brought up the knife so that it was inches from her face. Liberty held her breath, her heart cracking her ribcage. ‘She’s frightened.’ Liberty’s voice was a scrape in her throat. ‘We’re all frightened.’

  Brixton Dave nodded and brought the knife flat side down against Liberty’s cheek.
It was cold. She held impossibly still. Next, the silver of the blade swam through the air like an electric eel and Daisy shrieked as the man brought it down. ‘Oh, shut the fuck up,’ he said.

  Liberty bent forward, expecting to see a gash and crimson blood. Instead, the knife was working through the tape that was holding Daisy’s ankles. ‘You and me are getting out of here, Daisy,’ he said. ‘Time for a nice little chat.’ He cut the final strip and stood. ‘Get up.’ He watched as Daisy leaned to her left, pressing her arms into the floor next to Liberty. Then she pushed her knees under her so that she was on all fours, backside in the air.

  ‘Oh, my days,’ said Brixton Dave.

  Daisy breathed heavily as she used the wall to lever herself to her feet. She shot Liberty a look, her eyes darting downwards. Liberty followed her eye-line and saw a small metal tube.

  ‘Get a move on, girl,’ the man shouted.

  Daisy grunted and turned, losing her footing slightly so her leg swept out to the side. As she straightened up, Liberty felt the tube being nudged into her thigh.

  Brixton Dave threw Daisy into another room. This one was equally bare, without even a carpet. The only difference was that blankets had been fixed across the window so the room was gloomy. ‘Kneel down,’ he said.

  Daisy did as she was told, feeling the cracked floorboards against her shin bones. She was so thin, these days, every bone in her body felt like it could pop through the skin any moment.

  ‘Don’t drag this out, Daisy.’ He still had the knife, holding it loosely, passing it from one hand to the other. ‘Just tell me who they are.’

  Daisy let her shoulders sag and her eyes droop as she desperately tried to work out what to say. She couldn’t tell him about Sol. God knew how he’d react.

  ‘Help yourself here, Daisy,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t planning on killing you and I still don’t wanna. But you know how it goes.’

  She had no reason to protect Sol. What had he ever done for her? He’d been half decent to her, but that didn’t mean she had to put herself on the line, did it?