by Laura Marney
I wanted to believe her. She was right, I had to hold it together, it was all I could do.
‘D’you promise?’
‘I promise. Can you hand me the trowel, please?’
I sat on the terrace and watched her work; watching the rain drip between the cracks in the walls.
Chloe’s dad called the next morning from the airport asking for directions.
‘Fuck! I didn’t know he was getting here so early!’ Chloe wailed. ‘The grout isn’t even dry on this section yet!’
She made me take a bath and get dressed. She wouldn’t take a bath or even shower, she threw a blanket over the maria and kept on with the chimney, placing the fancy crowns on top even though she hadn’t finished tiling all the way round.
‘I haven’t got the right cement for the crowns but they’re secure enough there for now. If he sees it from this angle he won’t know it’s not finished.’
‘It looks amazing, Chloe.’
Despite having other things on my mind I had to acknowledge that Chloe had done a fantastic job on the chimney, it was totally transformed. Until now I had always seen chimneys as warm, welcoming symbols of home, gently puffing on the skyline. Chloe’s chimney, with its undulating shape and iridescent greens, yellows and blues, was more of a shimmering reptile. Like a giant snake whose head had burst through the roof of the building, a beautiful toxic serpent.
Even though we were expecting him we were both freaked out when we heard Aged P’s loud knock at the door. The knocking continued for a few minutes before Chloe plucked up the courage to go to the hallway.
‘Daddy?’
‘Hey honey, are you going to let me in?’
Chloe ran at the door and pulled it open. I couldn’t see him at first. Chloe had barely let him over the threshold before she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his chest.
‘Oh Daddy,’ she sobbed, ‘I’m so glad to see you!’
‘Hey, hey, hey! It’s okay, Daddy’s here.’
Chloe dragged him into the living room and on to the sofa where she pinned him with a fierce cuddle. I followed, shouldering the bag he had dropped, and sat down. Philip was just as I had imagined him: tall, tanned, urbane, white teeth, greying temples. He shot me an embarrassed nod by way of introduction. He looked momentarily shocked by my battered face but he was polite enough to try to hide it and turned back to Chloe, who was howling without restraint. I’d never seen her lose it like this. Things had obviously got to her much more than I’d imagined.
‘Hey now. What’s happened to my little girl?’
Chloe continued clinging to her dad and howling. Philip now switched to a sterner tone, as though he was speaking to a naughty child.
‘Chloe. What is it? What have you done?’
This got an immediate reaction. Chloe pulled away from him and wiped her face.
‘Why do you always assume I’m in trouble, Daddy? Can’t I just be pleased to see you?’
‘Sure you can,’ Philip laughed. ‘It’s just that you’re not usually this pleased to see me.’
Philip wasn’t stupid. I could see he was humouring her. He thought she was unhinged; her behaviour certainly was. She’d gone from sobbing infant to snarling teenager in seconds.
‘Come on, I want to show you something.’
She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the terrace door. I moved to follow but this time it was me that Chloe snarled at.
‘D’you think I could have a minute alone with my dad, please?’
‘Sure,’ I said politely, keeping up appearances in front of Philip, but I was taken aback.
It had always been just me and Chloe: me and Chloe against the world, against the dads. Now she was siding with him against me. She wanted to show him her chimney, I understood that, but she also wanted to get him alone, to tell him the Sanj thing was my fault. What could I do? Now with her dad here to ‘fix’ things they could call the police or turf me out on the street to face Mahmood’s informers. Chloe opened the patio door on to the terrace, led her dad out and closed it firmly against me. I waited in the living room trying to hear what they were saying but it was impossible, they kept their voices to a low murmur. After five minutes they came back inside smiling.
‘My dad is taking me out for lunch,’ Chloe announced. She walked to the bedroom; I followed her and closed the door.
‘You told him, didn’t you?’
She was pulling clothes out of the wardrobe and wouldn’t answer me.
‘Chloe, what’s going on?’
‘Will you chill the fuck out!’ she whispered viciously, buttoning a smart blouse. ‘You’re going to ruin everything. I have to go out with him. It’s the only way he’s gonna help us. I’m doing this for both of us.’
‘Tell him it was self-defence. He can see the state my face is in, we can use that.
‘Okay, self-defence.’
‘And Bashed Head Boy…’
‘Yeah yeah,’ Chloe said, ‘that was an accident. He fell over the banister.’
‘It was nothing to do with me. I got there after he was dead.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell him.’
She was rummaging in her make-up bag. She produced a lipstick and the mirror she usually chopped the coke lines on. The lipstick was a soft pearly pink shade I’d never seen her wear before. It made her look very young, very innocent. ‘Chloe, you don’t have to go out. Please, don’t leave me here on my own!’
‘Look, the man has come a long way, okay? He wants quality time with his daughter. I’ll be back in a few hours, we’ll tell him then, okay? I have to work on him a little more first.’
There was nothing I could do about it, nothing I could say.
Chapter 48
As soon as they left the flat I went and stood out on the terrace listening to the tourists drag their suitcases along the cobbled street. How I wished it was me.
I should pack now. I could pack for both of us. It would save time when Chloe came back.
If she came back.
I’d have to hope she would, that her dad would fix things and we’d soon be on a plane to the States to start college.
I went into the bedroom and pulled my rucksack out from under the bed again. There was no point in sorting Chloe’s clothes from mine, we’d be taking everything anyway, but I didn’t want to mix clean clothes with dirty ones. Chloe’s clothes were strewn everywhere, the clean stuff in the laundry pile on the chair, the dirty stuff on the floor. I lifted the dirty clothes off the floor and piled them into the pillowcase I kept for my own dirty laundry. A vision of Sanj’s battered head inside the blood-soaked pillowcase jumped into my head. I didn’t want to think about pillowcases. I shoved it forcefully to the bottom of the rucksack. Then I started on the drawers.
Chloe’s underwear drawer had no system; bras pants and bikinis were flung in any old way. I tipped the lot out on to the bed and was amazed to find, rolled inside a hot pink swimming suit, my mobile phone.
Chloe searched that drawer for the phone, I saw her. There was no way she could have missed it. I remember she rifled through that pink swimsuit, it wasn’t there then. This could only mean that she’d put it there since. Which meant that she’d found it again, or never lost it at all.
Maybe she thought she was doing me a favour keeping me away from Ewan. She was always jealous of him, Chloe needed to be the most important person in my life. She told me she’d called him and told him I was in hospital, but that he didn’t want to see me. Maybe she hadn’t called him at all.
There was one way to find out. The phone battery was dead so I found the charger and plugged it in while I weighed up phoning Ewan. If I contacted him, he might turn me in. Even if he didn’t, it might be dangerous for him to get involved. Ewan knew Sanj’s uncle, there was every chance Mahmood knew Ewan. He might be watching him. Ewan could lead Mahmood straight to me. But this sounded, even in my paranoid state, too far fetched. I needed to speak to someone I could trust right now, more than anything I needed to hear a famili
ar Scottish voice.
‘Ewan?’
I could hear him breathing but he didn’t speak.
‘It’s me, Alison.’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said coldly.
‘Can you speak? Is it safe?’
‘What d’you want?’
So it was true, he didn’t want to see me.
‘I’m sorry, Ewan. I just wanted to talk to you, that’s all.’
‘Haven’t got time. Okay, bye now,’ he said casually and hung up.
I went back to sitting on the sofa, my packing forgotten. So Chloe hadn’t lied about Ewan, but why had she hidden my phone from me? And there was something else. Something she said before she left. She said that Bashed Head Boy was an accident. That he fell over the banister.
I’d looked at lots of flats in lots of buildings before I got to Bashed Head Boy’s building. It was the only one that had a banister. All the other flats had a lift in the centre of the stairwell. How did Chloe know his had a banister?
I’d often wondered about Chloe’s boyfriend, the one she and her dad were supposed to go to Vietnam with. She never talked about him. All I knew was she broke up with him because he wanted to party with his friends.
I went to see the flat in Raval because the Internet advert mentioned parties. I’d wanted to get invited. I had no proof that Bashed Head Boy had placed the advert, no proof that he’d been Chloe’s boyfriend. But I had my suspicions. If anyone was going to get the blame for Bashed Head Boy, it wasn’t going to be me.
I searched the flat, pulling out drawers, looking under the rugs and in behind furniture. I was looking for evidence: a photograph of Chloe with her boyfriend. There was nothing. Chloe didn’t even have any photos on the camera on her phone. Apart from all the photos she had around the place of her mum there were no other pictures. I thought this was suspicious.
Chloe had said they were going out for lunch but they’d been gone for hours. She was probably with her dad right now on a plane back to America where the sun always shone and powerful people got away with murder and left their naive accomplices to take the rap.
And then someone knocked on the door.
I didn’t freeze. I sat quietly awaiting my fate. I hoped it was the police rather than Mahmood’s people.
A voice out on the landing shouted, ‘Alison!’
It was Ewan.
I went to the hallway and crept behind the door and listened.
‘Alison, are you there?’
Ewan waited for me to open the door. Had he brought anyone with him? I couldn’t hear anyone else. I heard him sigh and begin to move downstairs. I opened the door.
‘Ewan?’ I whispered.
He stopped on the stairs and came back up again. He was alone. When he saw me he made no move to hug or kiss me on both cheeks. He made no mention of my black and blue face. I couldn’t look at him, I felt so ashamed.
‘It’s good to see you Ewan, take a seat.’
‘I’m not staying.’
‘Oh, okay.’
We stood awkwardly in the living room.
‘Were you just passing by?’
‘No, I was at my work,’ he growled.
‘No, I mean, is that why you’re here?’
‘I’m here because you phoned me.’
‘Right.’
‘What is it you want from me, Alison?’
‘Nothing. I don’t want anything, I just want to… Could you pick up the dogs from Josep’s?’
‘Alison, I don’t have time for this. I didn’t come round here to run bloody errands.’
‘Well, why did you come?’
‘I’m wondering that myself.’
‘Did Chloe tell you I was in hospital?’
‘Yes,’ he said and turned to walk out.
‘Don’t go Ewan, please.’
‘D’you want me to get your dogs or don’t you?’
‘Eh, yes. Yes please.’
He was back with the dogs within ten minutes. Juegita and the pups ran around madly, delighted to be home again.
‘Thanks very much, that was good of you.’
‘I don’t know why you couldn’t have gone for them yourself; it’s only at the bottom of the street.’
‘I can’t Ewan, I can’t…’
‘You can’t what? Can’t be arsed?’
He looked at me with such an expression of disgust I had to hide my face when I asked him.
‘Please, I need to know, have you heard about Sanj? What’s happening?’
He lunged forward and peeled my hand off my face.
‘So you’re mixed up in this Sanj thing, are you? I might’ve known. The American bird, she got you into it, didn’t she? That’ll be why you’ve got a sore face. Well you have no idea the trouble you’re in. This is serious shit. Mahmood doesn’t like people messing in his business. It’s a lot of Charlie. I’ve told you before, he’s fucking dangerous. He doesn’t piss about, d’you understand?’
When Ewan started shouting the dogs barked and jumped at him, trying to protect me.
‘I warned you. You’re just a stupid wee lassie from Cumbernauld. You’re way out of your depth here, with people you can’t begin to understand. I’d thought maybe you and me…’ he tailed off. ‘Och, I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Alison, cheerio.’
He walked out and banged the door behind him.
I tried to calm the dogs. I got their food bowls out and filled them. The dogs were gobbling the food as quickly as I could put it out, Josep obviously hadn’t fed them properly and as I was refilling the bowls there was another knock at the door.
I listened.
‘Alison!’
Ewan again, he’d come back. He’s said some horrible things but at least he’d realised how much I needed him. He would help me get out of this mess, he was a good guy after all, I always knew he was. This time as I opened the door he rushed at me, but it wasn’t Ewan.
Chapter 49
Before I knew what was happening there was a knife at my throat and I was being dragged by the hair around the flat. Juegita growled and barked. He kicked Juegita when she tried to jump on him, the pups yelped but stayed at a distance. He seemed to be checking that there was no one else in the flat and led me into every room, Juegita and pups following as we went. In the kitchen he closed the door and trapped the dogs there before shoving me into the living room. At the front door I’d only got a brief glance but once I was thrown back on the sofa I knew him, no doubt about it.
It was Sanj.
He was alive, his face was ugly and swollen like a Halloween lantern but he was very much alive and threatening to slit my throat. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘Oh Sanj, I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m sorry for what we did; it all got out of hand. Sorry, muchas sorry.’
‘Dame la coca!’ he screamed.
And now it all became clear to me: coca, cocaine. Charlie, Ewan had said. I’d thought he’d meant my brother, Charlie. He’d been talking about cocaine, of course, Sanj’s cocaine, or more specifically, Mahmood’s. The bag of coke in Sanj’s kitchen cupboard, Chloe must have taken it. She must have stuffed it in her bag while I was punching seven shades of shite out of Sanj. But he was alive. This changed everything.
I wasn’t a murderer after all, the police weren’t after me. I didn’t have to stay in the flat, except that now, with the point of Sanj’s knife pressing on my throat, I kind of did.
‘Donde estan las drogas? Dame las! Yo voy a matarte!’
I couldn’t be a hundred per cent certain but I was pretty sure that what he was saying was something along the lines of: where are the drugs, give me the drugs, I’m going to kill you.
‘I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.’ I held my hands out in an I-wish-I-could-be-more-helpful gesture but this didn’t help. Sanj pressed the knife closer.
‘Chloe took it, mi amiga, Chloe, took your coca!’
Sanj’s rage turned to despair. He looked dumbfounded, like he didn’t know what to do now. Maybe Uncle M
ahmood was going to kill him if he didn’t get the coke back. Sanj was desperate, maybe capable of desperate things.
‘Donde esta Chloe?’
‘She left, she went out with her dad, they went for lunch but that was hours ago, I don’t know if they’re coming back.’
I could see that he didn’t understand but I didn’t know the Spanish words so I kept saying the same thing.
‘She’s gone, I don’t know if she’s coming back.’
‘Dame la coca, buscala!’ he shouted at me, pulling me off the couch on to my knees. He pushed my head under the coffee table and then I understood that he wanted me to search for it.
I’d already searched the flat earlier, I hadn’t found any cocaine, but I was in no position to argue. I went through the motions of searching everywhere I could think of. The knife was hampering the search. It was hard to get Sanj to understand I wasn’t trying to escape, that I was trying to lead him to the next place to search. Leaning into the back of the cupboard was tricky and required trust on both sides, Sanj trusting me that I wasn’t reaching for a weapon and me trusting him that he wouldn’t panic and push the blade into my neck.
At the same moment we both heard it. Sanj pulled me in front of him. There was someone at the front door. Keys jangled in the lock.
Chapter 50
Sanj held me tight from behind, the knife blade resting on my throat, a warning not to cry out as we both listened to someone enter and move around the flat. In the kitchen the dogs were still barking, making it difficult to hear. It sounded like only one person, a light-footed person who knew their way around. If it was Chloe, where was her dad?
‘Alison?’
Chloe walked into the bedroom.
Despite the strange scenario: her best friend held prisoner by a reputed dead man, Chloe showed no surprise.
‘Hi Sanj, you’re looking well.’
She must have known he wasn’t dead and yet she’d let me torture myself.
‘Donde esta mi coca?’ yelled Sanj, his battered face distorted with rage.