by Tony Telford
‘How are we gonna keep in touch, though?’ asked Matty. That was a problem. Miri’s flexifone was on the blink, so all we had was a bulky old thing that Jean had picked up somewhere and the one O’Hare had put through the letterbox.
I told Jean to give her phone to Matty. ‘I’ll hang on to this one. How much credit did you say’s on it, Matty?’
‘Three-fifty.’
‘Okay, and have we got each other’s number?’
Draemon was getting impatient. ‘Come on, man, let’s move! Before this rain gets worse.’
Hooky and Jean waved us off as if we were soldiers marching to the front. ‘For God’s sake, be careful. Call us if anything’s up—or just call the police.’
Matty and Drae said they’d start at the left end of the street, so Miri and I headed for the factory end. We’d gone all the way up the street before it occurred to me that maybe there should have been a male in each pair, but I didn’t say anything to Miri.
I knocked at the end house, number 427. The door opened immediately and a tiny old man peered out at us. It was as if he’d been standing by the door just waiting for someone to knock.
‘Hello, I’m sorry to disturb you—’ The door slammed in my face. Not the most promising start. At the next house a girl came to the door with a baby in her arms. She wasn’t much older than me. No, she said, she hadn’t seen anyone who looked like O’Hare, nor any whippets, but she’d only been there a few weeks. And so we moved on down the street. I made a note of all the houses where there was no answer—about one in every three or four.
At one house there was a lovely friendly man who would’ve kept us talking all day if we’d let him. He even invited us in for tea. His neighbour, a tall, softly-spoken woman, asked me if the Lord had come into my life. At a house further along there was no answer, but I noticed the curtain move in the front window. I wrote the number in my notebook and even made a note about the curtain. Next door there was an old Scotswoman, all dolled up as if she was going to a disco, with scarlet lipstick and little gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘A tall thin young fella wi’ a whippet? Noo, I’ve noo seen any whippets. Though if you ask me, with the sort o’ people living round here now, half the dogs must end up in the pot for supper. You know what I’m sayin’?’ Her bright blue doll’s eyes seemed to quiver behind the thick lenses. ‘Ah don’t know why these people can’t stay in their own country.’ The blues eyes settled on Miri, standing behind me in the rain.
‘Come on, Pearly,’ said Miri quietly.
Further down the street we saw three workmen reading their papers in a white van.
‘ ’Scuse me,’ I said. ‘Have you seen a tall thin guy with long black hair and a whippet?’
The nearest one took his time looking me up and down, then turned to the others. ‘Either of you seen a tall whippet with black ’air?’ They shook their heads solemnly. ‘Nah, can’t ’elp you love,’ said the first one. ‘This whippet—z’e your boyfriend, then?’ Their laughter and comments followed us down the street.
All in all, it seemed pretty hopeless. No one knew anything about a tall skinny guy with long black hair, and no one had seen a brown and black whippet. Around three the rain started getting heavier. We tried to shelter under my umbrella, but the rain kept blowing in from the side, and it was so cold, too. Miri’s hands were like ice, so I lent her my gloves.
Halfway up the street, we met Matty and Drae, looking like they’d just come from a shipwreck. I didn’t even bother asking if they’d had any luck. Matty said at one house a girl thought they’d come to beat up her brother. Something to do with drugs, apparently. At another house, a man tried to sell them his own dog. ‘Lovely old thing, it was. Chocolate Labrador.’
We all went to have a word with Jean at the corner.
‘Seen anything, Jean?’
‘Nah.’
‘Where’s Hooky?’
‘Still in the wood, I ’spect.’ She was deathly white, and her lovely red hair looked like clumps of wet string.
‘You look frozen,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you go and buy a cheap brolly. Or find a bin bag or something. It doesn’t matter if you’re gone for a bit.’
‘No way.’ Drops flew everywhere as she shook her head. ‘It’d be just my luck if he came past when I was gone.’
As we headed off again she called out. ‘Don’t worry, Pearly. We’re gonna find her.’
But we didn’t find her. Miri and I continued on to the end of the street without coming across a single clue, a single hopeful word. The rain never let up once, and by the time we’d finished it was nearly dark and we were both feeling quite ill.
Hooky was waiting with the others at the corner.
‘Where’ve you been, Hooky?’ said Miri. ‘We were worried about you.’
‘Got l-lost in the woods, didn’t I? It’s like a maze in there. And then this funny old guy sent me off in completely the wrong direction. I’d st-still be there now if I hadn’t met someone else.’
‘It was useless, man,’ said Draemon. ‘I felt like a machine in the end. “Have you seen a tall thin guy and a whippet, have you seen a tall thin guy—”’
Just then the wind rose and blew my umbrella inside-out. Then the rain started coming down in bucketfuls. We hightailed it down Eagle Street and crowded in under the little roof of a shop entrance. We must have stood there nearly an hour, shivering and grumbling as we watched the cars go slooshing past. The rain didn’t let up for a second.
‘God I’m ’ungry,’ said Jean.
‘Me, too,’ said Hook.
‘I went beyond hunger six hours ago, man,’ said Draemon. ‘Malnutrition is now starting to run its course.’
‘Shut up, Drae,’ I said, and gave them some of Sarah’s chocolate biscuits from my satchel. Of course that reminded me of Sarah. I hadn’t thought about her all day. I found her card in my soggy purse and tapped out the number on O’Hare’s mobile. There was no answer, just her message machine. I hate talking to those things. ‘Hello, Sarah. It’s Pearly—Pearly James. I saw you yesterday about that smelly gunk? I’m just ringing to see if you’ve found out anything. Maybe you could call me back on this number? If I don’t hear from you I’ll call again tomorrow. Thanks…bye.’
I hung up. ‘What day is it today?’
‘Tuesday?’ suggested Jean.
‘It’s Thursday,’ said Matty.
‘Too soon to call her, then,’ I muttered.
‘What?’
‘Never mind.’ Suddenly all I wanted to do was flake out on a nice soft mattress and forget about everything for a while. There was nothing more we could do today, anyhow.
‘You okay?’ asked Matty.
I nodded, and listened to the rain coming down on the cold, dark city.
15
It was strange. I knew I was dreaming, but it still seemed so real. I was following a small brown animal through the streets of an unknown city. The animal looked a bit like a kangaroo. On its side there was a splodge of bright blue paint, like the mark on a condemned sheep, and something was wrong with its big back legs. The poor thing could barely drag itself along, but somehow I still couldn’t catch up with it, however fast I ran. Then I realized I wasn’t seeing the creature directly, I was only watching it on a screen. I started to cry, knowing that I’d never be able to save it now. Big warm drops spilt down my cheeks and stung the corners of my mouth, and even though I was dreaming I knew the tears were real.
Someone was with me there in the dark. It was Hooky—or rather, an older version of him, with thinning hair and small sad eyes.
‘So what’s the point, Pearly?’ he was saying. ‘What’s the point of it all, eh?’
The little room where we were sitting was hot and cramped. Each breath of the greasy air was a lungful of misery. Panicking, I looked around for a door but couldn’t find one, so I sprang through the open window and followed a path leading up a hill. The hill became a mountain with stone steps, wet and slippery in the mist. I climbed for an eternity. ‘Surely I mus
t be at the top by now,’ I thought, and with that thought the mist lifted, and there I was, a step away from the edge of a cliff. Beyond there was nothing but blue air and the cawing of gulls.
Someone was sitting there with his feet dangling over the edge of the cliff. He was nursing an animal on his lap, a weird little beast with a long neck, plump body and spindly black legs. ‘Oh,’ I thought, leaning closer, ‘it must be one of those animals they make bagpipes from.’ O’Hare (it was him, of course) smiled and nodded as if he knew my thoughts. Then, ever so casually, he reached out and gave me a gentle push, just enough to tip me over the edge, and then…then I was falling through space, deafened by the wind, clothes ballooning, arms and legs as light as air. It was amazing, I wasn’t scared at all. Not at first, anyway. Below, the lights of the City were as strange and beautiful as those luminous jellyfish at the bottom of the sea. ‘I’m flying,’ I thought, ‘I’m really flying! And it’s even more wonderful than I imagined.’ But then I felt gravity sucking me, tugging at my guts, and I knew. I knew I wasn’t really flying. In a few seconds, just a few cold seconds from now, I was going to know what it was like to die, to have my skull cracked open like an egg, and no, no, no, I didn’t want that, I really didn’t want that, and I tore myself from the dream and woke, panting and trembling in the dark.
For a while I lay thinking about the dream. Then I got up, dressed and went down to the kitchen. No one else was up yet. It was even too early for Hook Morton, who usually had breakfast ready by the time the rest of us got downstairs. I made myself a mug of tea and stood drinking it by the big window in the Octagon Room. Nearly dawn. The sky was on fire above the rooftops.
‘Where are you, Boo?’ I whispered. ‘Are you okay?’
Someone came in behind me. It was Matty. His thick, curly hair was even more of a mess than usual. ‘Morning,’ he croaked.
‘Did I wake you?’
‘Nah. How’d’yer sleep?’
‘Not bad, considering.’
He came and stood by the window, yawning and rubbing his scalp. ‘Red sky at morning.’
‘We’ve got to find her, Matty.’
‘We will. I know we will.’
‘We’ve got to find her today.’
He pursed his lips and sighed, and the little puff of air made a cloud on the windowpane. ‘What d’you think he’s up to, then?’ he asked, after a pause.
‘I don’t know. I really don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s all a kind of game for him.’
Matty nodded, as if he’d had the same thought. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew what we were doing yesterday.’
‘How?’
‘Following us, maybe. Or tracking us with that phone.’
‘Really? Could he do that?’
‘It’d be a cinch for someone like him.’
‘But if he knew—’
Faint music was coming from upstairs. No, not real music, just a few notes playing over and over.
‘It’s his phone,’ said Matty. We gaped at each other in disbelief.
‘We were just talking about—’
‘Quick, it could be him!’
In seconds I was up the stairs and back in my room. I plucked the phone from my satchel.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, is that Pearly James?’ It was Sarah. ‘Oh, Pearly, sorry to call so early, but I’ve got a flight to catch this morning. I know I probably woke you.’
‘No, it’s okay, Sarah. I was already up.’
‘Oh, good. Well, listen, I got your message. I just wanted to let you know what I’ve turned up on that stuff of yours. Sorry this has to be so rushed.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s just so good of you to help us. I hope it wasn’t too much bother?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘So did you find out what it is?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ She laughed. ‘No wonder it smells so awful. Basically what we’ve got here is a compound of NH2, a kind of diaminopentane. They call it Cadaverine because it gives off a smell like putrefying flesh—you know, like a cadaver. And I think it’s been mixed with yeast extract to make it sticky. Pretty much anyone could make it. You just need the ingredients and a basic knowledge of chemistry.’
‘Oh, I see.’ I couldn’t help sounding disappointed, but then, what had I expected? How was it ever going to help me find Boo if I knew what the stuff was made from? That was just silly. No, I had to face it, I’d been clutching at straws, and now everything seemed quite hopeless.
But Sarah was still talking. She was saying there was something else, something more interesting.
‘Yeah, I hope you don’t mind, but I mentioned this business to a couple of my colleagues here at uni, and, would you believe it, Charlie Herman—he works at the other lab, does a lot of undergrad teaching—he said that one of his students had been asking about Cadaverine just the other day. Young woman, it was, in one of his first-year classes. Very smart, but a bit strange, apparently. She kept pestering Charlie about how to make really foul-smelling mixtures like Putreocene and Ethanethiol and what-not.’
‘Is that unusual?’
‘Well, I don’t know how unusual it is, but it’s quite a coincidence, don’t you think?’ She sounded a bit impatient with me now, or maybe it was just because she was in a rush. ‘Do you think this woman could be a friend of that O’Hare guy?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘He’s such a lone wolf. It’s hard to imagine him having any friends. Do you know the woman’s name?’
Sarah paused. ‘Well, I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but her name’s Veronica Hart.’
‘Veronica Hart.’ It didn’t ring any bells.
‘Yeah,’ Sarah continued. ‘And I don’t know if it’s the same one but there’s a V. Hart in the local listings—damn it, where did I put that piece of paper?—yeah, here we are. “V. Hart, three-eight-five Newland Crescent”.’
I nearly dropped the phone. ‘Did you say Newland Crescent?’
‘Yeah, Newland Crescent. Why?’
‘Hang on.’ Clamping the phone between my cheek and shoulder, I pulled my notebook from my satchel and scrabbled through the pages until I found the list of houses in Newland Crescent where no one had come to the door:
393 (but TV on), 389, 387 (curtain moved), 383, 377, 371 (lights on), 365…
‘Sarah, are you sure that’s right—385 Newland Crescent?’
‘Yes, why?’
I went over the list again—no, 385 definitely wasn’t there, which meant that someone had answered the door at that house. But who could it have been? At the previous house, 387, there was no answer, but I’d seen the curtain move. I remembered that. But who answered the door at 385? Who, who, who?
Then it came to me.
‘Oh my God.’
‘What is it?’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘You can’t believe what?’
‘I just can’t believe it.’
‘Pearly, will you tell me what’s going on?’
And the blue eyes—how did he do that? ‘Listen, Sarah, I’ve got to go.’
‘What? Pearly, wait—’
‘No, I’ve really got to go.’
‘What are you gonna do?’
‘I’ll explain later. Thanks so much, Sarah. You’ve been fantastic.’
‘You’re not gonna try and see him, are you?’
‘It’ll be okay, don’t worry.’
‘Oh God. Please be careful. I don’t like the sound of this guy at all. You won’t go alone, will you?’
‘No, my friends’ll be with me.’
‘And will you call me? When I get back on Monday?’
‘Okay.’
‘Promise?’
‘Yes, I promise. But I’ve really got to go…’
16
Siegfried would have loved the sky that morning. Matterhorns were drifting through the deep dark blue, and below them a curtain of dazzling mist curled and swirled around the top of the old factory tower.
The five of us were waiting for Matty near Shippey and Co., thumping our arms and jogging on the spot like a team of athletes warming up for the big event. Minus ten in the night, and still so cold my fingers and toes felt like they were going to snap off. Miri’s face had gone completely numb in the wind. ‘Feelth like I’ve been to the dendith.’
At last, Matty came running up the street. ‘What took you so long?’ said Jean. ‘We’re nearly freezing to death here.’
‘Been all over,’ he panted. ‘Couldn’t…get one at the newsagents. So…went to the library.’ He paused, trying to catch his breath. ‘Then…found a good one, but…they wouldn’t let me borrow it. So printed off a photo. From the internet.’ He took a sheet of paper from inside his coat and spread it against the wall, revealing an aerial photo of the streets in this area. ‘Look, here’s Newland Crescent.’ He pointed to a long arched street, like a rainbow-shaped scar. ‘That’s the woods behind the houses, see? And there’s the old factory.’
I bent nearer. ‘So three-eight-five must be about…there.’ I laid my finger on one of the tiny grey roofs on the upper-right side of the arch.
‘Yeah.’ Matty nodded. ‘But do you notice something about the houses there?’
‘Well, obviously, the factory’s behind them.’ You could see quite clearly that about a dozen of the houses on that side of the street backed onto the huge square mass of the old factory building. They didn’t even have any back gardens, as far as I could tell.
‘Exactly,’ said Matty. ‘Which means…’
Draemon grinned. ‘Which means there’s no rear exit. He’s trapped, man.’
‘If he’s there,’ Miri reminded him. ‘If he even lives there.’
‘Let’s go find out,’ said Draemon.
But Hooky was really worried. ‘I still think we should call the police.’
‘What’s the big deal, man?’ snapped Draemon. ‘I told you—we can handle this ourselves. For Chrissake, I can handle it. Just let me go.’