Taking Liberties (Liberty Chapman)

by Helen Black

  ‘The woman’s Frankie’s sister,’ she said, assuming that he would work this out sooner or later anyway.

  He drew back his head. ‘You’re shitting me?’

  Daisy shook her head.

  ‘And what? She came looking for him?’

  ‘I suppose,’ Daisy replied.

  ‘What about the guy?’ he asked.

  ‘Dunno.’ Daisy looked away. ‘They have a lot of people working for them.’

  He stood over her, eyes narrowed, weighing her up. He put the knife in his back pocket and Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. Then he pulled out his fags and held out the packet. ‘Want one?’

  ‘Please.’

  He lit one and placed it between her lips, then lit one for him-self. Daisy took a deep drag and watched him through the plume of smoke as he paced around the room. ‘People like that,’ he said, gesturing to the door with the burning end of his cigarette, ‘they think they can do what the fuck they like. They think there’ll never be any come-back.’ He gave a knowing nod. ‘But they’re wrong.’

  Sol scanned the room. The only exits were the door and the window behind him. He arched his back and turned his head to try to see outside, but the strain sent a juddering pain through his flank that told him he’d be pissing blood for a week. He weighed up their situation. At some point Crystal would realize there was a problem. The same went for Hassani. But what would either of them do? Crystal would not call the police. That much was obvious. And without the police, how could she find them? Hassani would call in back-up eventually, but how long would she leave it? This wasn’t an official job and there would be trouble for both of them if she went to a senior officer. She knew that and would avoid involving anyone else for as long as she dared.

  In the meantime, Sol was tied up with a nutter breathing down his neck. A nutter who might find out he was a cop at any second. There was no way Daisy wouldn’t give him up. Why wouldn’t she? ‘We have to get out of here,’ he said.

  Chapman looked up at him. ‘Plan?’ she asked.

  ‘Fuck knows,’ he replied. He brought his wrists to his mouth, tried to bite the tape. It was thick, wound round several times and he couldn’t make any headway.

  Chapman shuffled over towards him. ‘Daisy left this.’ She held out a tube that looked like it had been used to smoke heroin. ‘Can we use it?’

  He checked it. The surface of the tube was dull and smooth but the end had possibilities. As if reading his mind, Chapman ran a finger over it. ‘It’s not sharp.’ She looked around, her gaze resting on the radiator. ‘If I rub it against that, I might get somewhere.’

  Sol nodded.

  Chapman propelled herself to the radiator. ‘Tell me if you hear him.’ She began to scrape the tube against the side of the radiator, stopped at the noise it made. ‘Shit.’ She tried again, this time making longer slower swipes in an attempt to keep the sound down.

  ‘Why did you get involved in all this?’ he asked.

  She kept working. ‘Why did you?’

  He watched her. Even now, she looked expensive. Hair well cut, teeth white and straight. He imagined a big house with a wardrobe (probably one of those you walked into) full of smart clothes. A boyfriend with a posh name and floppy hair. Nights at the theatre watching complicated plays, with bottles of champagne during the intervals. ‘You have a life in London,’ he said. ‘I bet it’s a nice one. You’ve put all that at risk, for what?’

  ‘You have no idea what my life’s like in London.’ She finished at the radiator and moved to Sol, indicated for him to put out his hands and began rubbing the now sharpened tube against the tape.

  A small crackle told him that it was going to work. A loud succession of thumps told him their captor was coming back. ‘Quickly,’ he whispered. ‘Get back over there.’

  Chapman was barely in place when Brixton Dave stamped into the room. ‘Daisy’s a good girl,’ he said. ‘I like Daisy, don’t you?’ He looked from Sol to Chapman and back again. Neither of them spoke. Sol kept his hands in his lap to hide the damaged shreds of tape. ‘Daisy understands the situation in which she finds herself, you see.’ He tapped the side of his head with his finger. ‘She’s worked it out.’

  Sol assumed Daisy had given him up. Granted, he and Daisy went back a long way. But what was that worth? At the end of the day, he was police and she was an addict. Why wouldn’t she give him up? He wasn’t worth taking a kicking over.

  ‘So the price has just gone up,’ said the man.

  Sol frowned. The Greenwoods weren’t about to cough up for his safe return.

  ‘Half a bar for baby Frankie.’ Then he leered at Chapman. ‘And half for his big sister.’

  Daisy strained at the tape around her wrists. No give. Now her legs were free, she thought about hiding behind the door. When Brixton Dave came back, maybe she could surprise him. Knock him out? But it would be hard with her hands still tied. If she messed up, he’d just shank her, wouldn’t he?

  Shit. He was coming back.

  Daisy knelt down again in the same spot and hung her head.

  ‘Right then, Daisy.’ He held out Frankie’s phone. ‘You’re on.’

  ‘What?’

  Brixton Dave squatted in front of her. ‘You’re going to tell Crystal Greenwood that we have her sister and we want another five hundred grand.’

  ‘A million quid?’ Daisy asked. ‘I don’t think . . .’

  ‘What? You don’t think they’ve got it?’ He laughed. ‘Maybe not lying around, no. But they can get it if we give them a bit of time, don’t you think?’

  Daisy blinked. She had no idea. The Greenwoods had money, yeah, but that much?

  Brixton Dave went into recently called numbers, redialled Crystal and put her on speakerphone.

  ‘Daisy?’ Crystal sounded out of breath. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘They’ve got Liberty,’ said Daisy.

  Crystal didn’t speak and only the sound of her panting filled the room.

  ‘They want another five hundred,’ said Daisy.

  ‘When and where?’ Crystal asked.

  ‘We’ll let you know,’ Daisy replied. ‘Just start getting it together, okay?’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’

  Brixton Dave hung up, biting his thumbnail. He wasn’t happy. ‘Too easy,’ he said.

  Daisy closed her eyes. He was right. Crystal should have asked more questions. She should at least have asked if Liberty was all right.

  ‘She’s here,’ he said. ‘That bitch came with the other two.’

  Daisy wasn’t about to say so, but she agreed with him. Jay might even be down here too. And some of their people. ‘Crystal won’t risk her brother and sister,’ said Daisy. ‘Family’s everything to the Greenwoods. She’ll pay up.’

  But he was no longer listening.

  Chapter 23

  September 1986

  My new school shoes are slobbing a bit at the back. I tried to shove some cotton wool in the toe, but that made them too tight. Tomorrow I’ll wear two pairs of socks and hope that does the trick. This blazer’s too big as well. Whoever had it before me must have been a giant.

  The other kids stare as I cross the playground. My cheeks burn in shame but I stick out my chin, like Geraldine used to. I do that a lot, when I feel nervous or something. I pretend I’m her. I wish I could tell her that, but the new social worker says I shouldn’t get in touch and I need to avoid any more trouble.

  Mr Christian says they’ll find a new foster placement soon, but I’m all right as I am at the care home. I’m in no rush. I keep myself to myself mostly and I’m near enough to Crystal and Frankie’s so I can see them sometimes. Jay’s been moved further away so it’s trickier to visit him. Mr Christian says he’s asked for a travel voucher for me.

  I open the door and go down the corridor to the school office. There are a couple of women inside tapping away on typewriters. One of them looks up at me. ‘What can I do for you, love?’


  ‘I think I’ve got some transport arriving,’ I say.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Lib Greenwood.’

  She checks down her list. ‘Is that short for Liberty?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Shame,’ she says. ‘That would be a great name, wouldn’t it? Like a film star or summat.’ She stabs the list with her thumb. ‘Got it. Taxi’s outside so I’ll sign you out.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  She scribbles her name across a sheet of paper. ‘Where you skiving off to then, love?’

  ‘Going to see my dad,’ I tell her.

  Liberty sawed at Connolly’s bonds. They were tearing, but so damn slowly. Sweat trickled down her face, into her eyes. She blinked away the salt sting, carried on as fast as she could manage. ‘What are you going to do when this is over?’ she asked him.

  ‘I’m going to arrest that little prick with his stupid name and make sure he goes on remand in the Mansion.’

  Liberty gave a faint smile. ‘Sounds like an idea.’ She looked up at him. ‘What about me? Are you going to arrest me?’

  ‘For what?’ asked Sol.

  ‘The coke,’ she replied.

  ‘Do you really think that means dick to me?’ Connolly asked. ‘Anyway, the evidence seems to have gone walkabout.’

  The tape came apart and Liberty stopped for a split second to push the hair back from her damp face. Then she passed the tube to Connolly and held out her own wrists. He worked fast, using one hand to cut and the other to hold the tape taut. As soon she was free, Connolly used the tube on his ankles while she attacked hers with her nails.

  When they were both loose, Connolly got to his feet and held out a hand to help Liberty to hers. Instinctively they both checked the window. There were no keys to the locks, but the frame looked old, paint peeling from it. ‘We can sort that,’ said Liberty, and Connolly nodded. ‘But we can’t leave without Frankie and Daisy.’

  ‘You can,’ Connolly replied.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You can get to a phone.’

  ‘No.’

  Connolly put a hand on each of her shoulders. ‘I can’t work you out.’

  ‘I can’t work myself out.’

  Exasperated, Connolly darted to the door, dragging Liberty with him. He pressed her flat against the wall to the right, then positioned himself similarly to the left. ‘When the door opens, I’m going to slam him with it. You move round and kick him in the balls. Hard. Very, very hard.’

  ‘Thank God you said that, or I might have gone easy on him.’

  Liberty and Connolly held their breath and waited. It had been a long time since Liberty had hurt anyone, but she knew how easy it was. Kicking this idiot in the balls wouldn’t be difficult. It would be a pleasure.

  At last they heard Brixton Dave’s footsteps, accompanied by his voice as he spoke into his phone. ‘I’m telling you,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the brother and the sister here now.’

  Liberty watched Connolly who held up a finger as if checking the wind. Every muscle in his body was rigid and his eyes were clear and bright. She felt as though she were in freeze-frame as she waited for Connolly’s signal. The only noise was the slow but deafening beat of her heart. As Connolly gave a chop with his finger, the air and sound rushed back into the room. He swung the door with force and Liberty heard the crack of wood on bone. She leaped from her hiding position and faced Brixton Dave. His face was a bloody mess, the bridge of his nose split down the middle. When he registered that she was free, his arm moved to his back pocket but Liberty pulled back her knee and kicked out. The toe of her trainer landed exactly where she wanted and the air left him with a satisfying whoosh. She struck out again and this time he fell to his knees. Her third kick caught him under the chin and his head was thrust backwards in a sickening arc.

  He lay on his back in a daze, and Connolly grabbed his feet, dragging him into the room. Blood spilled from his nose and throat. Once inside, Liberty snatched the tape from the window ledge and bound his hands. Together they went through his pockets, seizing phones, lighters, knife.

  Outside the room there was a narrow corridor. Connolly stepped into it cautiously, reached out and pushed open the door opposite. The room beyond was empty and he shut the door. He moved down the corridor, beckoning Liberty to follow. She did so, squeezing in closely behind him. He stopped at the threshold to the next door, looked over his shoulder at her and nodded. Again he stretched out his hand and opened the door.

  The smell of urine and sweat unfurled towards them and there, in a corner of the room, curled up in a tight ball, was Frankie. Liberty pushed past Connolly and ran to her brother. She ripped off the tape covering his mouth and cupped his face. His eyelashes were matted with salty tears and there was a crust of dried vomit on his T-shirt. He looked like the wide-eyed little boy she’d abandoned a lifetime ago. ‘Lib?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve come for you, Frankie.’

  His voice wobbled. ‘I fucked up big-time, Lib.’

  ‘Been there, done that,’ she replied.

  Connolly threw the knife to Liberty. She caught it and quickly freed Frankie.

  ‘Where’s Daisy?’ he asked, rubbing his wrists. ‘We can’t leave her.’

  ‘We’re not leaving anyone,’ Liberty said.

  Connolly signalled that they were on the move again. Liberty helped Frankie up and they crept after the policeman.

  There was only one door left on the landing, next to the top of the stairs. A little tile was stuck to it, covered with pink flowers and sparkly letters that read ‘Thea’s Room’. Connolly pushed the door open and revealed Daisy, sitting on the floor, desperately rubbing the tape around her hands against the radiator. She looked up at them. ‘Thank God.’

  Frankie took the knife from Liberty and cut away the remaining tape securing Daisy’s hands. She yanked it from her skin, balled it and threw it into the corner in disgust. ‘Where’s Mr Fuck Face?’ she asked.

  ‘Knocked out and tied up,’ Liberty replied.

  They moved out of the room and began to make their way down the stairs.

  ‘Quickly,’ said Connolly. ‘We need to get out of here before any of the youngers get back.’

  Liberty took the stairs two at a time. She could almost feel fresh air on her skin. They’d done it. She didn’t know exactly what would happen next. Would Crystal and Jay be prepared to leave things? Would Connolly? Right now, she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get out of there. The rest could wait.

  At the bottom of the stairs there was a small hallway, light pouring in through the glass panels of the front door. Freedom.

  Suddenly, a dark shape appeared on the other side of the glass. Then there was a voice. Dread crept through Liberty’s chest. As the door opened, she could barely breathe.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Lib,’ said Crystal. ‘I thought I told you to stay where I could see you.’

  Liberty began to laugh.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ said Crystal.

  Liberty moved forward and threw her arms around Crystal’s neck. Her sister’s body remained stiff, but Liberty clung on all the same.

  ‘Personal space issues,’ said Crystal, patting Liberty’s arm.

  At last Liberty let her go. ‘How did you find us?’

  ‘Jay’s contact in Spain came up with the address,’ Crystal replied. Then she turned her eyes to Frankie. ‘You are dead meat when your brother gets hold of you.’

  ‘Can I have a hug first?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘No,’ Crystal barked.

  ‘As touching as this family stuff is, can we get out of here?’ Sol asked. ‘The rest of the crew can’t be far and they were definitely packing.’

  ‘And who the fuck are you when you’re at home?’ asked Crystal.

  Back at the Porsche, Crystal hustled Frankie into the back, where he slumped, eyes closed. Chapman stood at the passenger door, both hands on the car roof.


  ‘We’ll need to speak about this, Miss Chapman,’ Sol said.

  She nodded, breathed hard and pulled the band out of her hair. ‘I don’t know what I’ll have to say.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something,’ Sol replied, and led Daisy to his car.

  He gunned the engine and set off for the nearest petrol station, where he bought a bagful of crap. Daisy fell upon it like it was treasure, scrabbling at the lid of a bottle of Mountain Dew, taking a bite of a Picnic and lighting a Marlboro Red. Sol bit into a Ginster’s Cornish pasty, winced and lit a fag instead.

  ‘What’s going to happen now, Sol?’ Daisy asked.

  He exhaled smoke out of his nose in two long flutes. ‘I don’t know about you, Daisy, but I intend to go and get very drunk indeed.’

  ‘Won’t your wife have something to say about that?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Daisy stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. ‘Like that, is it?’

  Sol didn’t answer but took another long drag and turned on the radio.

  Chapter 24

  September 1986

  I used to joke that Geraldine’s house was like a castle, but the prison really is a castle. It’s got one of them great big archway doors and turrets and everything. I expect a knight on horseback to come charging out any second.

  ‘I think it’s this way, Elizabeth,’ says my social worker, Darren.

  I’ve never liked that name. It reminds me of a lad in our Jay’s class at school. Darren Matthews. He always had a runny nose and had to wear one of them patches for a lazy eye.

  We walk around the side of the castle to a much smaller, normal-looking door. Which is a shame: I fancied waiting for the big wooden doors to creak open and walking through like some sort of princess.

  There’s a bit of a queue forming so we join the back, Darren checking the paperwork for like the hundredth time. He’s a bit of a worrier is Darren, which makes me think he won’t be in this job too long. In front of us, two women are moaning and smoking cigs. They’ve got a little boy with them. He’s black and is blowing a spit bubble. You don’t see too many black people round our way. There’s only one in my year at school. She’s adopted. What’s funny is that she’s much better-looking and much cleverer than all her white brothers and sisters who aren’t adopted. I bet their mam and dad never saw that one coming.