by Anne Cassidy
‘Probably some drunks.’
She heard it again. A voice.
‘No, listen.’
She looked over to the alley. It definitely came from that direction.
‘There,’ she pointed.
‘Rosie, it’s just some kids boozing or smoking dope. Or maybe making out.’
‘Making out? What are you, American?’
She wanted to smile but then it came again. This time it sounded like a moan. She left Joshua where he was and walked across and stood at the gap between the two shops. It was pitch black. She held her mobile up for some light.
‘Who’s there?’ she called. ‘Is everything all right?’
There was a croaking sound. She pressed her mobile and it lit the area up for a split second then it went dark again.
‘Someone’s down here. Maybe they’re ill or hurt.’
‘Rosie. Kids hang out down there. I used to. Don’t get involved . . .’
‘How can you not get involved if someone’s hurt? You can’t just walk by.’
Joshua huffed, walked round her and stepped into the alley.
‘Anyone there?’ he called.
There was a sound but it was lower, a wheezing noise.
‘What is it?’ Rose said.
Joshua walked on a few steps. The darkness swallowed him up.
‘Oh my God.’
‘What?’
‘Oh no.’
She followed Joshua into the alleyway. Her foot hit something and there was a sound of some animal scuttling away.
‘What’s happened?’ she said, trying to see in the dark.
Joshua was kneeling on the ground, bending over.
‘Skeggs.’
‘What? Skeggsie? Is he all right? What’s happened?’
‘Skeggs, mate, where are you hurt?’
‘What’s happening? I can’t see anything.’
‘Have you been in a fight? Skeggs, what’s happened to you?’
Rose stood very still, trying to peer over Joshua’s shoulder. She pressed the buttons of her phone and caught a momentary view of Skeggsie’s face. His head was flat on the ground and he looked as though he’d lost consciousness.
‘Get an ambulance,’ Joshua said, his voice breaking. ‘Get an ambulance.’
‘Right,’ Rose said. ‘I can’t see in here. I’ll go out into the street. Tell Skeggs they won’t be long.’
The street was deserted when Rose pushed the buttons for 999. It rang for a few moments and she stamped her feet with impatience, all the while thinking about Skeggsie and what had happened. The face of Rory Spenser came into her head. When she spoke to the operator she was careful, enunciating her words, explaining what she thought had happened.
‘My friend’s hurt. I think there might have been a fight. He’s passed out. We’re in Jesmond Road by some shops and an alley. We’re about five minutes’ walk from the seafront.’
The woman’s voice was calm, asking for details.
‘I don’t know how badly he’s hurt,’ she said. ‘My other friend’s helping him now. He might have concussion or something because he’s not really moving.’
The woman continued asking questions.
‘I’m not sure. The alley’s dark so I couldn’t see much,’ Rose said. ‘My friend’s with him. How long do you think you’ll be?’
The woman kept talking but Rose stopped listening to her.
Her eyes were fixed on Joshua who had come out of the alleyway. He was on his own.
‘Josh?’ she said.
He was in a mess. He stood under the streetlight and Rose could see a dark circle on his coat. It was a stain that had spread across the middle of it, raw and ugly. When she realised what it was she felt her throat tighten. In the back of her head she could hear a siren and then a burst of laughter from a nearby pub or club.
Her hands dropped to her side. The phone hung there.
‘Is Skeggsie . . .’ she said stupidly.
Joshua shook his head.
The blood looked oily, as if it might spread further. Joshua crossed his arms over it as if to staunch it. A blue light flashed on and off as the ambulance turned the corner and headed towards them.
SIXTEEN
Rose sat in the Accident and Emergency department. She watched what was going on in a kind of daze. People came in ones and twos, sometimes a group, sometimes accompanied by a police officer. They walked, limped or stumbled past a giant Christmas tree glittering with fairy lights. Underneath was an array of brightly wrapped boxes like some metallic island. They were greeted by nurses with bits of tinsel on their collars. There were smiles and calls of ‘Merry Christmas’. In the background she thought she could hear some piped music – Oh come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant!
She gazed at these things as if she was watching a film.
Just then Bob Skeggs came in and rushed through the waiting area. He swept past and jumped into a lift just as the doors shut. She hardly registered who it was before he was gone. Beside her Joshua was stony. He was leaning forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor. He was an arm’s length away from her but he might as well have been across the waiting room. He hadn’t noticed Bob Skeggs. Maybe that was a good thing.
Skeggsie was gone.
The thought was dark and heavy and made her breathe fast and shallowly. She glanced sideways at Joshua. His shoulders were bent with the enormity of what had happened. His coat was heavy with Skeggsie’s blood. His eyes were shut as though he only wanted darkness. He was in a world of his own.
‘You think the doctors could have helped him?’ Rose whispered.
‘Rosie,’ Joshua said, ‘it’s no good. He’s . . .’
The word he wouldn’t say. Dead. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes. She wished she was religious. She felt the need for a prayer, some kind of mantra that she could say to fill up the awful panic in her chest. She put her hand out sideways towards Joshua. She touched his coat and then felt his hand over hers. His skin felt cold and dry. From the piped music she could hear a familiar tune. Silent night, holy night?. . .
Upstairs in a ward was Joshua’s uncle. Tomorrow they were meant to visit him just like they were meant to have Christmas dinner at Skeggsie’s house. But Rose knew these things wouldn’t happen because their world had split apart.
Earlier, at the alley, there had been drama when the paramedics came. Joshua told them that Skeggsie was dead but still they got into action as though he hadn’t spoken. They asked Joshua and Rose to move back, so that they had room to work. Then they began to try and resuscitate him. There were soft words that Rose could barely hear. They called him Darren because Joshua had told them his full name. Rose wanted to call out to them He answers to Skeggsie as if that was the only reason he wasn’t responding.
A policeman turned up dropped off by a car with a siren. When he got out the car sped off somewhere else. He looked as young as they were and even though he had gloves on he was clenching his hands with the cold. He came up and asked them what had happened. Rose tried to explain how she’d heard a sound from the alley. At that moment the paramedics burst out of it, carrying Skeggsie on a stretcher towards the ambulance.
It gave Rose a moment’s hope. They wouldn’t take him to hospital unless they thought they could save him? The policeman walked over to them and had a brief conversation. Coming back, he shook his head and said, ‘It doesn’t look good.’
Joshua wanted to go in the ambulance but the paramedics told him to follow along. The young policeman pointed to the cab firm further up the street. Then he answered his mobile phone and began talking to someone. He walked away from them, his voice sombre. Rose was about to head towards the cab office but Joshua turned away from her and went back into the alley. The policeman had his back to him and didn’t notice. Rose wondered what Joshua was doing. She stamped her feet on the ground, aware that the ambulance was getting further and further away.
Joshua reappeared, coming swiftly towards her. He had hi
s hands in his pockets and only then did the young policeman look around. Rose followed him towards the cab office. There were people waiting outside smoking. Joshua went up to the counter and faced an elderly woman who had red hair tied up in a knot and Christmas tree earrings.
‘My friend’s been attacked and taken to hospital. He’s . . . I know there’s a queue but we need to get there quickly,’ Joshua said, holding his voice steady.
‘Eric’s just come in, pet. The white Ford outside. I’ll say a prayer for him.’
They got in the cab and as it raced off Joshua took something out of his pocket. Rose looked down at his hands.
Skeggsie’s glasses. He’d picked them up from the alley.
They left the hospital just after three in the morning. A night bus took them part of the way back and they walked the rest. The streets were quiet. It was bitterly cold. Rose’s breath came out in puffs and she could hear her feet crunching snow on the pavement. It was inky dark, no moon, the streetlights giving off a honeyed glow above them. The silence was broken from time to time by a distant laugh or an angry shout or a car accelerating along a nearby street.
Once indoors Joshua headed for the stairs, ignoring Poppy who was jumping up and down. Rose watched him disappear up to his room and close the door. She didn’t know what to do. She had no energy to go after him because there was nothing she could say. Poppy was running around and Rose trudged to the back door to let her out into the garden. She looked round. The kitchen was a mess and there was a new whisky bottle opened, some of it already drunk. When the dog came back in she went into the living room. It was cold, the heating having gone off hours before. Her duvet was still there from where she’d brought it down that morning. Without taking her coat off she sat down on the sofa and lifted her feet up. She covered herself with the duvet and lay down, the dog on the carpet beside her.
When she woke up it was daylight and Joshua was looking down at her.
‘Wake up, Rosie.’
She sat up too quickly. She was stiff from sleeping on the sofa and her coat was twisted under her. She looked at the clock. It was past ten. She’d slept for ages. Still, though, she felt dazed as if she’d only had a nap. The previous evening came back to her in a flash and she hugged the duvet.
‘I’m going back to the alley,’ Joshua said.
He was wearing his stained coat. The blood was rust coloured, darker in the middle, like a wound – a mirror image of Skeggsie.
‘I’ll come,’ she said, averting her eyes. She forced herself to stand up and gathered the duvet together. ‘Give me five minutes.’
She ran upstairs and used the toilet then splashed water on her face. Before leaving the bathroom she glanced in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes where the previous evening’s make-up had smudged and run. She used some tissue to wipe it clean. She ran her fingers through her hair and went downstairs. Joshua was standing by the front door, jangling his keys. They walked out of the house into a cold and grey Christmas Day. When they reached the alleyway there were police cars parked at angles across the front of it and scene-of-crime tape hanging from lamp-post to lamp-post.
Rose stood with her arms crossed. Joshua had his hands in his pockets, pulling the front of his coat tightly together so that the bunched up fabric covered the stain. Rose’s fingers were icy. She looked up and down the street. Houses and shops, parked cars and wheelie bins, completely ordinary.
But Skeggsie had been attacked and left to die in an alley off this street.
She let her eyes drop to the ground. She stared at the grey paving stones and felt the tears gather again. She pulled a wad of toilet paper from her pocket and pushed it against her eyelids, a sob wrenching out of her.
The police were going in and out, looking businesslike. A car pulled up, double parking by one of the squad cars. The driver got out and Skeggsie’s father emerged from the passenger side. Joshua stiffened and took a step forward. There was nowhere to go, though – they were flat against the scene-of-crime tape. The two men walked into the alley.
They waited.
Other people came and there was a burst of conversation as they heard about what had happened. ‘Some kid got stabbed last night! Was it drugs? It was probably drug-related. Or to do with a girl. Yeah, maybe it was a girl.’ Rose glanced up at Joshua. He was staring straight ahead, his face rigid, as if he couldn’t hear a word.
Skeggsie’s father came out of the alley. He saw them and walked across. Joshua crossed his arms, hiding the bloodstain.
‘Joshua, lad, I don’t know what to say . . . Or to think . . . I . . .’
‘We found him,’ Joshua said, his voice shaking. ‘We did everything we could.’
‘I know you did. The officers told me. I can’t believe what’s happened. My Darren, my boy,’ he stopped. ‘He wasn’t the type to get in a fight . . .’
‘He wasn’t. He would never have started anything.’
‘You were a good friend, Joshua. Don’t think I don’t know what you did . . .’
‘No, he was a good friend to me when I needed it. The best.’
Bob Skeggs looked around. His eyes were glittering. Rose looked away. He made a coughing sound and stepped back from them.
‘I have to go now. There are procedures to be followed and I may be out of touch today but I’ll contact you.’
Rose looked down and thought of her words to Skeggsie the night before. If I’m honest, I don’t always like you very much.
‘Did they tell you anything? How it happened?’ Joshua said.
‘Not really. Too soon, lad. Too soon to draw conclusions.’
‘I’ll ring you tomorrow,’ Joshua said.
Bob walked off towards the car that had brought him there. Within minutes they had driven off. Rose saw the young officer then, the one who’d come first the previous evening. He walked towards them.
‘So sorry about your friend,’ he said.
Rose gave a shaky smile.
‘Is there any information about him? Have the police found out what happened?’
‘It’s ongoing. We’ve set up an incident room . . .’
Rose had stopped listening because Joshua’s expression had changed. She looked around, following his gaze. A group of young men were coming towards them. Rose could see Martin and some others. At the back was Rory Spenser.
‘I’ll tell you one thing, though,’ the policeman said, lowering his voice. ‘We found the murder weapon.’
Joshua looked back at the policeman.
‘Knife?’
‘Yep. It’s with forensics.’
Joshua looked ashen. He stared into space and then seemed startled to see the others coming towards them. Martin was the first to reach them.
‘Josh, mate. I can’t believe it.’
The others followed. Rose saw that Rory hung back, a few metres away and began to fiddle with the scene-of-crime tape. Joshua seemed not to know who Martin was and Martin frowned at Rose.
‘We only heard this morning. We were out of it last night and an hour ago I got a text from my mate, Roger, who heard about it from his old man who’s a porter in the hospital.’
Rose nodded, her mouth too dry to speak. Martin put his hand out to Joshua but then drew it back. Joshua just stared at Rory Spenser who had his back to them. A ringtone sounded. It was a pop song, loud and raucous and it made everyone, even the policeman, turn round. It was Rory’s phone. He took it out and answered the call, his voice as casual as if he were standing in a queue for the supermarket till, not in front of a crime scene.
‘Oh hi!’ he said. ‘What you up to?’
Joshua tensed, his jaw rigid.
‘Josh,’ Martin said, stepping towards him.
But Joshua had sprung, his big coat flying out. He ran towards Rory Spenser and jumped on his back, pushing him forward face down on the ground. There was a grunting sound and then Rory’s phone shot out of his hand and skidded along the road. Rose was shocked. Joshua was punching the side of Rory’s hea
d.
‘Oi!’ the policeman shouted.
Martin and one of the others went across and took hold of Joshua’s arms and dragged him off Rory. Rory scrabbled to his feet and backed away, holding his jaw, scooping up his phone as he went.
Joshua shook free and stood unsteadily. The policeman walked across to Rory and spoke quietly. Rory shrugged his shoulders and walked off. The policeman came back to Joshua.
‘I don’t want to arrest you, mate. I can see you’re all over the place. Get off home now. Calm down.’
Joshua looked at Martin.
‘He was stabbed, Marty.’
‘Mate, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.’
‘I know Spenser had something to do with this.’
Martin began to shake his head.
‘You tell him to watch his back because when I’m absolutely sure I’ll come for him. This time he’ll pay properly for what he’s done.’
Martin didn’t answer. He looked down at Joshua’s coat. Joshua’s eyes dropped and focused on the stain as if he was seeing it for the first time. It seemed to appal him and he pulled at the buttons and shook the coat off. Then he bundled it up and threw it on the ground and walked away.
‘He’s lost it,’ Martin said quietly. ‘There’s no way Rory would do this. No way.’
Martin beckoned his friends and they went in the direction that Rory had gone moments earlier. Rose looked at Joshua’s coat on the ground. She bent down and picked it up then she followed him home.
SEVENTEEN
Rose placed Joshua’s coat on a chair in the kitchen.
Distressed, she looked around. The table was covered in stuff that had not been put away over the previous couple of days – cups, glasses, plates and papers. By the door was Poppy’s bowl with half-eaten food in it. Her water bowl was almost empty and there was something floating there. It made Rose’s stomach turn slightly. The sink had dirty dishes in it and the milk had been left out on the side.
She walked into the living room. Her duvet was on the sofa and there were clothes of hers that she’d left over the armchair. There were glasses on the mantelpiece from two nights before. The room smelled fusty and she saw the remains of toast on a plate on top of the TV.