Zoe was still pacing ahead. I took a deep breath, linked arms with Kerry and marched her on. She looked at me as if I’d just saved her life.
‘Hey,’ I said, trying to get Zoe back. ‘What do you think they meant by a demonstration party, anyway? Is it like an anti-government demonstration or something?’
‘I can’t see it,’ said Zoe. ‘It’s probably one of those things where people try to sell you stuff. Make up and things. One of my mum’s friends used to do it. Mum got annoyed ’cause she felt like she had to buy something, even when she didn’t want to. Maybe Jodie is trying to earn extra money.’
‘Hope it’s not that,’ I said.
‘Hey, maybe it’s one of those ones where they show you sexy underwear and stuff.’ Zoe gave Kerry a sly grin.
Kerry blushed again. ‘Oh, no, you don’t really think –’
‘No, I don’t,’ I said. ‘Jodie wouldn’t be up for it. ’Specially not with that Dave around. Imagine him in a – a – bra and suspenders or something.’
That made Zoe and Kerry laugh and the heavy air lifted, just a little.
As soon as we reached the stairs of the high-rises, we could hear the pounding of music. We ran up the concrete steps, Zoe covering her nose and mouth, until we got to the ninth level. Jodie’s door was open, so we gave a quick knock and went in, Zoe waving her hands about because of the smell of cigarette smoke. There were a few people we didn’t know sitting on the floor, but we found Jodie in her tiny kitchen. She grinned at us. ‘Hey, you came. I thought you might be sick of your own company by now.’
She took the crisps and put them into plastic bowls. Kerry started eating some straight away, in big handfuls.
‘Welcome to the demolition party,’ Jodie said.
‘Demolition! Not demonstration,’ Zoe said, scorn in her voice, shaking her head in Kerry’s direction. ‘We thought you were going to try and sell us some knickers.’
Jodie sniggered at the thought. ‘The flats are being knocked down in a couple of months’ time,’ she said. ‘Loads of people have already moved out. We’ll have to go too. In a few weeks, maybe. So we thought we’d have a big party. I mean, it doesn’t matter if the place gets completely trashed, does it?’
Kerry giggled and took a huge slurp of whatever Jodie had put in her plastic glass. She coughed and wiped her eyes. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s only cider,’ Jodie told her. Zoe gulped her drink down fast.
I took a sip and tried not to wince. ‘Kerry,’ I said. ‘Don’t have any more of that, eh? If you don’t want to get into trouble, then it’s probably not a good idea to go home drunk.’
‘We’re not her childminders,’ said Zoe, pouring herself another drink from the huge bottle on the kitchen bench.
It was like something very bad had got into Zoe. I poured Kerry some of the coke she’d brought along with the crisps.
‘Are you not drinking that?’ Zoe asked, nodding at my cider.
‘Sorry,’ I said, making sure Jodie didn’t hear. ‘It tastes like apple-flavoured wee to me.’
Zoe took my glass and drank that too.
We wandered into the smoky living room and danced to a few tracks, Zoe looking like a kind of wild, bad fairy and Kerry like someone who couldn’t hear the music at all.
Gulping at another glass of something –- wine, maybe – Zoe pushed at a window, although it wouldn’t open very far because of some sort of lock contraption.
‘You know why that’s there?’ said Dave’s voice, behind us. ‘To stop people chucking themselves out.’
‘What, killing themselves?’ Kerry was goggle-eyed.
‘Well, that would probably be the result if you fell nine storeys,’ said Zoe. She gave Kerry a little push. ‘Why don’t you give it a go and see?’
‘These flats have the worst suicide rate in the city,’ said Dave, like it was something to be proud of.
‘I can’t believe you have to move,’ Zoe said, gazing out at the view, which still gave me vertigo. ‘This fantastic cityscape. I could look at it all night.’
‘Yeah, it’s a really desirable residence. Damp, mould, asbestos. We’ve got it all.’ Dave grinned at us. ‘Don’t you girls look nice tonight?’
Kerry went all stupid and giggly again. Zoe cast around the room. ‘Are those paint cans?’
‘Certainly are. The place is about to be flattened. We thought some people might want to write some last words on the walls.’
Zoe picked up a spray can and shook it. She started spray painting ‘Zoe’ on the living room wall, in vampire red.
‘Go for it, babe,’ said Dave, a leer on his face.
Zoe picked up another can and started embellishing the letters in a vivid turquoise blue. Spatters went in every direction and the chemical smell of the paint mingled with the booze and the cigarette smoke. She started on ‘Anna’.
Kerry watched with a stupid grin on her face, clutching her drink. ‘Do Kerry,’ she said.
‘Write your own things,’ said Zoe.
I looked at Kerry, who was still smiling, just not quite as widely. I picked up a can too. ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘I can do “Kerry”. Just underneath the “Anna”. That’ll look good.’ I started spraying. Meanwhile Zoe was already turning her painting into a work of art. She had cider in one hand and spray paint in the other. Some of the cider slopped onto the floor. ‘Whoops,’ Zoe said.
I tried to make the painting look as good as Zoe’s, but it was shaky and the shape of the letters wasn’t right. By now, a few others were joining in, spraying paint on the floor and the windows as well as the walls. Kerry was just watching, an anxious smile on her face. The music got louder.
Zoe turned to me. She had the black spray can in her hand. ‘Nope,’ she said, looking the lettering up and down. ‘We are Zoe and Anna. Not Kerry. That name doesn’t belong with ours.’
She shook the can hard up and down. Then she started spraying black lines all over Kerry’s name. She kept going until the can ran out of paint. She picked up another can and carried on.
‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked, trying to keep a little distance between myself and the paint can. ‘Why does it matter?’
‘If you don’t know,’ Zoe said, her teeth clenched, still aiming the can like a weapon, ‘then I can’t tell you.’
I suddenly thought: I hate it here. I hate the smell and the mess and the way Zoe is being. Someone turned the music up again and it felt like it was going through my brain and into my bones and skin. I turned around to see that Kerry was sitting on the floor, deep in conversation with Dave.
‘Hey,’ I said to Zoe. ‘That man seriously gives me the creeps.’ She ignored me.
I went over and sat beside them. ‘Kerry, I’m thinking we should get going now.’
‘School tomorrow, is it, little girls?’ Dave poured some of his drink into Kerry’s glass. ‘Got homework to do?’
Kerry giggled helplessly. Why did she find him so funny? I looked back at Zoe, who’d turned my paintwork into a huge blob of dripping black. She’d stopped spraying and was taking big, desperate gulps from her glass.
Just then Jodie turned up. She gave Dave a look I didn’t understand, but it made me feel like I shouldn’t be there. I held out my hand to Kerry and hauled her up.
‘Come on,’ I told her. ‘We honestly need to go.’
I tapped Zoe on the shoulder. She was shaking an empty paint can up and down and saying: ‘It’s stopped working. It’s stopped working.’
‘It’s empty, you idiot.’
Kerry was still doing that silly giggle and Zoe looked at her murderously.
I linked both their arms and started trying to frog-march them both towards the open door. More people were just arriving, clanking carrier bags full of drink. One horrible bloke stroked my hair on the way out and said: ‘Hey, beautiful, don’t go so soon.’ I shud
dered and tried to hurry the others up, which wasn’t easy – Kerry was in no hurry and Zoe kept bumping into things.
Outside, the air was still warm. Pink clouds sat, unmoving, in the sky. Zoe was pale and sweaty. She’d got my T-shirt covered in spatters of paint. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘We need to walk around for a bit. We all reek of fag smoke and cider and stuff.’
‘I feel sick,’ said Zoe and suddenly she did look a very odd colour.
‘That’ll be all that booze, you muppet,’ I said. ‘It looked like the sort of stuff people who live on park benches drink. I don’t know why –’
Zoe lurched away from me and held her hand over her mouth.
‘If anyone sees us like this, we’ll be in deep you-know-what,’ I said, more to Kerry than Zoe.
She nodded. ‘Shall I go back and get Jodie?’
I hesitated. ‘If you like.’
A few minutes later, Jodie was helping Zoe back into the lift. ‘I don’t think she should go back to your flat, though,’ I said, trying to think straight. ‘It’s too – you know – it’s quite smoky. And she might end up getting more to drink.’
‘I’ve an idea,’ Jodie said. ‘I’ve got a key to one of the empty flats. My mates moved out a couple of weeks ago. Zoe can crash there until she feels a bit better.’
Jodie could be so nice, sometimes, I thought. Even if she was a bit strange and her boyfriend was a total creep.
We found ourselves on the very top floor of the flats, with me clinging on to Zoe, trying to keep her upright and walking and telling her to hang on for a few more minutes. When Kerry tried to help, Zoe pulled away.
We let ourselves into Flat 1413. It was chilly and smelled damp and mouldy, like Jodie’s place. There were no carpets or anything on the floor, just a sort of a dark brown tile. It’ll be easy to clean if Zoe is sick, I thought.
Zoe leant against the wall, then slumped down onto her backside. ‘Ouch.’ She sniggered. Then she leaned forward and threw up.
Kerry clapped a hand to her mouth. Usually, just the thought of someone being sick makes me retch too, but maybe because it was Zoe, I was able to hold her hair out of her face and keep my other arm around her until it was all out of her system.
‘Kerry, job for you,’ I said. I handed her several tabs of minty chewing gum, warm from my pocket. ‘First. Eat this. Then go home and find a couple of clean tops we can borrow and get them back here as soon as you can. Oh, and some body spray or deodorant or something. And – and – a bottle of water, if you can get it. Try not to get spotted. Go on, don’t just stare at me like that!’
Kerry darted off. To give her her due, she was pretty quick, although it was a good job Zoe was in no fit state to comment on the T-shirts she brought us. For one thing, Kerry was much bigger than either of us and I swear one of them had some sort of teddy bear print on it, but at least the clothes didn’t smell of cigarettes or sick. She’d brought a big bottle of water, some of which I persuaded Zoe to drink. Then I helped her change into Kerry’s clean top before putting one on myself. I looked at the T-shirts we’d been wearing. ‘These are pretty well ruined,’ I said. ‘We might as well chuck them away.’ I rolled them up and shoved them into a corner. I fanned Zoe’s face with my hands.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she said, batting me away.
‘Feeling any better?’ I asked. She just groaned.
‘Kerry. Well done, girl,’ I said and squeezed her arm. ‘You might have just saved our skins tonight. If we’d gone back home in that state we may not have lived to see the end of the summer holidays.’
Kerry beamed. She tried the tap in the bathroom and it worked. ‘I thought the water would be off,’ she said. ‘Look, it’s working.’
I soaked my other top with cold water and I cleaned up Zoe’s face and hair.
‘Let’s risk going back now,’ I said. ‘And try to get up the stairs and cleaned up properly before we have to get into conversations with our mums.’
Somehow, we made it. Kerry was a bit more savvy than I’d thought, after all. I flung myself in the shower, got changed and shoved my clothes in the washing machine, which of course made Mum suspicious when she came downstairs.
‘All right, what’s going on? Usually I have to prise your clothes out of your room when they’re about to walk down the stairs themselves.’
‘That doesn’t make sense. If they were about to walk down themselves, why would you have to –’
‘Don’t get smart. What did you not want me to see?’
I looked at the floor. ‘I got pasta sauce down my T-shirt. Sorry.’
My mum turned on her domestic-goddess act and started telling me that I was supposed to steep it in cold water first and that the stain would probably never come out now. I just acted dumb and kept saying sorry. I kept thinking I could still smell cigarettes and cider, but I must have just imagined it, because if there was even a trace of them Mum would have picked it up like a tracker dog.
I didn’t sleep well again, of course. Being exhausted seemed to count for nothing on these long nights. There was a faint smell lingering in the room from the afternoon’s ritual. I supposed it had to be the incense, gone a bit stale. But it reminded me of sulphur. My eyelids felt like someone had pushed stones onto them and I let them close.
Something scratched at my face and I leaped up with a shriek. I scrabbled at the wall for the light switch. The light came on for a split second before the bulb blew with a loud snap, leaving me blinking in the black dark again. Panting, with a thumping heart, I fumbled on my bedside table for my phone and in my panic I knocked it so it slid onto the floor. I screwed up my eyes, trying to see what was in the room with me – what I was sure had touched my face. All I could hear was the sound of my own hard, uneven breaths. But I could sense something coming closer, a shapeless darkness, pressing itself towards me as I lay on the bed, clutching my duvet, shivering and whimpering. I screwed my eyes shut, willing the thing to disappear, knowing it wouldn’t. And then – something cold as earth – a finger, a nail – a sharp, violent clawing down my cheek. I screamed.
The door was flung open and yellow light from the landing swept in. Mum ran over to me and pulled me into a hug. I grabbed her and sobbed into her shoulder, gulping in her familiar safe smell of soap and toothpaste and tea.
She took me downstairs and made me hot milk, like she used to do when I was very little and wouldn’t settle. She assured me there was no one in my room. ‘I’ve even looked under your bed. You silly thing – you’ve scratched yourself on the face. It was just a very bad dream.’ She even sat in the chair while I tried to sleep on the sofa, promising not to leave me on my own.
Even with Mum there, though and knowing I was safe from whatever nightmares might be in my room, I couldn’t rest. Every time I almost fell asleep, pictures kept running through my brain. Zoe and I doing our ceremony this afternoon. The knife digging into the smooth flesh on our arms and the squeezed-out drops of blood. Kerry and creepy Dave and something about the way he looked at her. Zoe acting like someone I hardly knew.
17
Flat 1413
I couldn’t believe it when Zoe knocked at the door at about nine the morning after Jodie’s party, looking like nothing had ever happened. She waved her hands at me. ‘Like the new perfume? It’s disinfectant,’ she said. ‘I stink.’
I sniffed. ‘Yeah, you do, a bit. How come?’
Zoe told me that she’d been to the empty flat and cleaned it up. ‘I felt like a prat after last night,’ she said. ‘So I thought the least I could do was to go and mop up the mess. I bet it looks cleaner than it ever did in there.’
‘It was never going to win a Beautiful Homes award,’ I said. ‘But yeah, the pile of vomit didn’t really add to the atmos. I can’t believe we left the key with you, the state you were in. I thought Kerry had it. How are you feeling?’
‘Good.’
I had to admit she wasn’t displaying any ill-effects. ‘Shouldn’t you have a stonking headache or something?’
‘Apparently not.’
Zoe kept going on about what a laugh it had been and how she’d felt really amazing and liberated. It made me wonder if we’d actually been at the same party.
‘Yeah, I went a bit far with the booze,’ Zoe went on. ‘But Anna, it was like – I don’t know. It was like suddenly we could do whatever we wanted and no one could stop us.’
You, I thought. No one could stop you. There wasn’t really an ‘us’, last night.
‘We made that happen,’ Zoe breathed. ‘We asked for something to happen. And look what did.’
‘It was just…’ I didn’t want to damp her down. But it hadn’t felt so special to me. Except that, maybe, Kerry came into her own, didn’t she? She went against all her rules, for us, but mainly for Zoe. There was a chance things would get better between them. ‘Kerry was cool, wasn’t she?’
Zoe ignored this. ‘We got a gift, didn’t we? Think about it. We got the keys to our own place.’
‘Huh?’
‘We’ve got somewhere to go, just the two of us. You’re always moaning about the magic gear in your bedroom. We can store it there, can’t we? And we can escape there, whenever we want to. It’s the best thing.’
‘I’ll be glad to get rid of that stuff, that’s for sure. It gives me nightmares.’ Should I mention this to Zoe? Would she laugh at me? ‘I keep thinking that… that someone’s there, in my room.’
Zoe sat down on the stairs. ‘Someone, like who?’
I shrugged, struggling to find a way to explain it. ‘Maybe I mean something, not someone. But I feel all cold and –’
‘Fix the heating.’ Zoe smirked.
‘No, it’s a weird kind of cold. I think I can feel things touching me. Stop smiling at me like that. I mean it. I’m scared out of my head, every night.’
Zoe took my hand and squeezed it. ‘Sorry. You’re right – what we’re doing is really powerful. I can feel things in your room too. But that’s what’s so exciting. It’s not a bad presence or anything evil. It’s just the spirits, getting us things we ask for. They’re on our side.’
The Misper Page 13