The Misper

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The Misper Page 15

by Bea Davenport

Mum and Dad flew out of the living room, jumping back as Barney darted between them. ‘What the –’ Mum ran out of words.

  ‘He won’t go in the room,’ I said, gulping back my urge to cry. ‘He knows there’s something in there.’

  ‘But there isn’t,’ Mum sighed. ‘We’ve checked and checked. You know that.’

  Dad rubbed Barney’s head. ‘He’s usually the most placid dog ever. I don’t know what would make him act like that.’ He beckoned me down the stairs. ‘Come on, looks like it’s you on the sofa tonight. With Barney. I’ll stay in your room. OK?’

  The next day, Zoe texted to say she’d won an art competition in the local paper. The prize was vouchers for the expensive art supplies shop in town. She was really pleased with herself. Cm & help me spend, she messaged me. When I replied and told her that Kerry was going away for a while, she sent me back a row of exclamation marks.

  ‘You know why it happened,’ Zoe said, seriously, as we sat over two creamy lattes. ‘It happened because of the magic. Same as the other day. I asked for good luck. That’s why I won this and that’s why we’ve got rid of Kerry for a few days.’

  ‘No, you won that ’cause you’re really good at art,’ I said.

  Zoe looked down at her mug and swirled the spoon around. ‘Not that good,’ she shrugged. ‘You should see what my mum can do. She should’ve been a proper artist.’

  I hadn’t heard this before. ‘What happened?’

  Zoe shrugged. ‘She had me.’

  ‘And?’

  Zoe licked froth from her spoon, delicate as a kitten. ‘She had to give college up. She never really got the chance to go back. I think that’s why she –’

  I waited. ‘Why she what?’

  Zoe glanced away. ‘Why she’s so proud of me, of course.’ Her tone was sarcastic.

  ‘Right.’ Why she’s always angry with you, you mean. That thought came out of nowhere but now that I had it, it all seemed very clear. ‘You never told me that before, about your mum.’

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘Because,’ I thought about it for a minute. ‘Because maybe that’s why your mum is always so horrible. You say she’s always having a go at you. But maybe she’s kind of jealous. Because she’s bored and frustrated.’

  Zoe curled her lip. ‘I’m the one who’s bored and frustrated. She never tries to understand me. I don’t see why I should try for her.’

  Zoe looked around. I could tell she was looking for a way to change the subject. She hated talking about her mum and I guessed she wished she hadn’t mentioned her. Suddenly her face brightened. ‘I’ve had a great idea,’ she said.

  ‘Why does that make me nervous?’

  Zoe laughed. ‘No, listen. That empty flat.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘We can go there whenever we want. Let’s move all that ritual stuff there too, and then you can stop going on about it being in your bedroom.’

  ‘Now that part of it does sound like a great idea,’ I said. The thought of clearing my room of that sinister skull and everything else – and of holding our ceremonies somewhere where I didn’t have to sleep – sounded just what I needed.

  ‘One thing,’ Zoe said.

  I raised my eyebrows at her in a question.

  ‘Kerry has absolutely not got to hear about this. If she gets involved it’ll spoil everything. This flat is just for us two. Promise me, Anna.’

  I promised her, of course. This was Zoe. I’d still have promised her just about anything.

  18

  Three’s a crowd

  Ever since the night Barney arrived I’d slept downstairs on the sofa, the dog heavy and comforting across my legs. Dad had taken my room, but he was convinced that Barney could smell something that we couldn’t.

  ‘There might be a dead rat under the floorboards or something,’ he said, making Mum shudder. ‘Something that’s decomposed and we can’t smell it, but a dog can. I don’t know. But we ought to get to the bottom of it, so Anna can have her room back. Maybe I should completely gut it and redecorate?’

  That made Zoe and I pack up the ritual gear from my room and take it all to the flat as soon as we could, before someone found it. But nothing would make Barney go in there, all the same. In spite of what Dad said, I already loved that dog – the way he was so pleased to see me, his tail wagging like a windscreen wiper, the way he was always ready for a warm hug.

  One morning – after I’d spent the previous day with my mum – I had a text. Meet at flat asap. Surprise 4 u.

  She wasn’t kidding. I swallowed down my horror of being in the lift alone to go to the top storey and I tapped on the door of 1413. Zoe opened it. I was hit by the smell of paint. ‘Welcome,’ she said, with a huge grin. Beyond the door was a narrow corridor, with doors to each room. Zoe had covered the walls with posters of bands and pages from arty magazines and old concert flyers.

  I walked in to the main living room and looked around, open-mouthed. Zoe had painted the walls in a kind of a purple colour. It was a dark shade, but it was a big room, with huge undressed windows, so it still felt light. She’d put an old rug and some cushions on the floor and more posters on the walls.

  ‘Where’d you get these from?’ I asked, flopping down on one of the cushions.

  ‘Box room at home.’ Zoe looked around, with a satisfied expression.

  ‘Wow. These cushions look new.’

  ‘We don’t use it very often. I only bought the paint. What do you think, then? I spent all day yesterday doing it – and half the night too.’

  ‘I bet you did. It’s really good,’ I said. ‘But why?’

  ‘I told you – this really is our place now,’ Zoe said. ‘The idiots who left didn’t get the water turned off and Jodie’s Dave did something with a bit of copper wire and got the power back on. There was a grungy old mattress in one room and some cups and plates, so I reckon the last tenants did a flit for some reason and didn’t tell the council. We could bring a kettle and a heater and stuff, if we could get them from somewhere. We could even stay the night if we wanted.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘But Zoe, Jodie said the flats are going to be knocked down soon.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Zoe waved her hands at me. ‘But it can’t be, like, next week or anything, because there are still people living here. I’m sure the council has to find them new places to live before they can bring the bulldozers in.’

  ‘I suppose.’ I looked around and tried not to stare at the window. ‘Wish it wasn’t so high up.’

  Zoe laughed at me and pressed herself against the glass, arms wide like an angel. ‘I love it.’

  ‘Stop it,’ I said, squeezing my eyes shut. ‘I can’t even watch.’

  We began to spend all our spare time at the empty flat. Zoe named it Whit’s End and almost every time I went, something new was there. I soon found out how she was furnishing the place.

  One afternoon, after we’d been to town, Zoe persuaded me to get off the bus a stop too early because she wanted to go to one of the big supermarkets on a nearby trading estate. She wouldn’t tell me exactly what she was going to buy. She insisted that I didn’t come in with her, but waited right at the entrance to the car park. When I asked why, she shook her head. ‘You’ll see in a minute,’ was all she would say.

  I lingered for around quarter of an hour, tapping impatiently at my phone. Then I spotted Zoe trundling towards me, a wire trolley in front of her, loaded with boxes. ‘What have you –’ I started, but Zoe kept walking and staring fixedly ahead.

  ‘Just keep going,’ she said, out of the side of her mouth. I followed her, striding fast to keep up, out of the trading estate and down a long street. After a few minutes, she glanced behind her and gave a long breath out. She manoeuvred the trolley into the drive of a boarded-up house.

  ‘What the hell is all this stuff?’ I asked.

&nb
sp; Zoe gave me a huge smile. ‘I’ve just got us a kettle, a microwave and a duvet,’ she said.

  I opened my mouth for a few minutes. ‘How did you afford all that?’

  Zoe gave me one of her ‘you-are-so-stupid’ looks. ‘I didn’t pay for them, that’s how.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Don’t say anything. I really don’t need a lecture. It’s not like the supermarkets will miss the odd thing. They expect the odd bit of shoplifting.’

  ‘They expect you to slide a bar of chocolate down your trousers, maybe, not walk out with a microwave,’ I said. ‘How did you manage it?’

  ‘Actually, it’s much easier than nicking bars of chocolate,’ Zoe said. ‘The security guys are on the lookout for people fiddling with their coats and pockets and stuff. Although–’ she opened her long coat and handed me a packet of biscuits. ‘I’m quite good at that too.’

  As we wheeled the trolley in the direction of the flats, Zoe said she’d watched someone steal things from the supermarket before. If there was a tag, you could get rid of it with nail clippers, usually, she told me. ‘You have to make sure the security guy is somewhere else, for a start. Then you just need to hold your nerve and walk past the self-service tills like you’ve already paid for it all. I’ve seen it done. I knew I could do it too.’

  ‘Won’t you be on a CCTV or something?’

  ‘Yes, but they only go through the CCTV if they’re looking for evidence. If they don’t realise there’s been a theft, they won’t go back through it.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s right,’ I said. ‘And they might be watching out for you if you go back there.’

  Zoe shrugged. ‘I won’t, then. At least not for a while. There are loads of other supermarkets to pick.’

  It was just our luck, though, that the lift wasn’t working that day. We were dragging the boxes slowly and awkwardly up the concrete stairs when we met Dave on his way home. It was the only time I’d ever been pleased to see him, especially when he took the heavy microwave box and carried it for us.

  ‘Jodie said you’d more or less moved in,’ he said, winking at us.

  Zoe gave him a quick smile, but curled her lip behind his back.

  ‘I wouldn’t call it moving in,’ I said, trying not to look at the dark drop in between the flights of steps. ‘We just use it now and then. To listen to music and stuff. We don’t live there.’

  ‘You stay there sometimes, though,’ Dave said, nodding at Zoe. ‘All night.’ He stopped as we reached the top floor and Zoe dug in a pocket for the key. ‘So you’re on your own then?’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘I only stay if my boyfriend’s with me.’

  ‘Your invisible boyfriend, yeah.’ Dave carried the box into the kitchen and put it down on the bench. He rolled up his sleeves. His arms were taut, inked over with tattoos. ‘Not going to offer me a drink to say thanks?’

  ‘We haven’t got anything. Sorry,’ Zoe said.

  Dave leaned an elbow on the bench and smiled at us. ‘How are you going to thank me, then, ladies?’

  That sick, hot feeling rushed through me again. I stared at the floor.

  Zoe marched back to the door and held it open. ‘By not telling your girlfriend you’ve been flirting with us?’

  Dave let out a short laugh. ‘Another time, then, eh?’ And he left.

  We looked at each other and Zoe pretended to stick her fingers in her mouth and gag.

  ‘He’s been watching you,’ I said. ‘Don’t stay here on your own, Zoe. It mightn’t be safe. He knows there isn’t really a boyfriend.’

  Zoe made a pfffing noise with her lips. ‘I love staying here. I’m not going to let that creep stop me.’

  ‘Don’t you get scared on your own?’

  ‘Scared? Never. When I can’t sleep I just stand and look out of the window. It makes me feel like I’m on top of a mountain or something. Like if I jumped out I could just spread my arms and I’d fly. Float. Like a silver seagull.’

  I shivered.

  Despite all this, it was brilliant having somewhere of our own to go to. There was a niggly, anxious part of me that half-expected the police to knock on the door and tell us we were squatting there illegally, or that we were being arrested for having a flat full of stolen goods. Things just appeared: bedding, a music dock, even a toaster. I kept telling Zoe to stop it and that she was going to get caught, but when I did she just laughed. And in the tiny kitchen there was always soup, tea, chocolate, bread. Everything found its way to the flat via Zoe’s coat pockets or else she coolly walked out of a shop holding a big box in front of her, with the confidence of someone who’d paid. She used a different supermarket every time, she told me – and she always watched it for a little while first to see what she could get away with. Whenever we had something to eat or drink, Zoe would make a joke about disposing of the evidence. She insisted the spirits were taking care of her. ‘I kind of imagine that I’m invisible,’ she said, laughing. ‘It seems to work.’

  The only place she didn’t steal from was Dead Bouquet. She said it was too small and didn’t make enough profit, so it would be immoral.

  The best thing that happened, as we slid towards the end of the damp summer holidays and into a grey September, was Luke coming back home. It meant Kerry came back too, of course, so it was one of those situations where my mum would joke that ‘every silver lining has a cloud’. I met up with Luke at the bus stop the day before term started again. I’d been worried that I might feel awkward about him, after a two-week break, so I took Barney with me for moral support, but when Luke saw me he held his arms wide open and I just ran into him and into a tight, tight hug.

  ‘I’ve really missed you, Anna.’ He kissed the top of my head. I loved it when he did that. His body was always warm. I’d missed his clean, shower-gel smell and the way he’d wrap his jacket round me to keep me warm too.

  I asked him how Kerry had enjoyed her break. He laughed. ‘Yes, she loved it. You know how she goes into everything like it’s all so exciting, like a great big kid.’ He paused to stroke Barney’s ears. ‘She talked about you all the time, though. It’s like a badge of honour for her, having you as a friend. My aunt said at one point that if she heard any more about the Amazing Anna she would scream.’

  Luke’s course and his part-time job meant we were not going to be able to see each other as much as we wanted, but we started texting each other dozens of times a day and calling every night. Given that I was supposed to start thinking about exams, it wasn’t the right time to break it to Mum or Dad that I had a boyfriend anyway – in my head, I could already hear their list of objections. Anyway, seeing less of Luke would keep Zoe off my back.

  Even once we were back at school, Zoe and I spent as much time as possible at Flat 1413. We worked out a system for getting rid of Kerry every day at the edge of The Cut. We would make like we were going home but after a few minutes we’d sneak back and meet up again, right in the middle of The Cut, and go to the flats. My mum thought we were spending more time with our made-up mate, Emma Wood, because I told her the imaginary Emma had a better sound system.

  Almost every time I went, I noticed more of Zoe’s stuff in the bathroom and little piles of her clothes on the floor. I asked if her mum didn’t mind her staying out all night. ‘I tell her I’m at yours, if she ever asks,’ Zoe said.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘What if she comes looking for you?’

  ‘She won’t,’ Zoe said. ‘She’s just glad to get rid of me most of the time.’

  As for me: I couldn’t work out what was going on with my mum and dad. He was still with us, but he kept saying how he should find his own place and stop taking advantage of Mum. He looked sad all the time. A little older, the frown line between his brows getting deeper. And Mum was snappier than usual.

  I kept hoping to walk in and find them holding hands or something, announcing w
ith silly grins that the divorce was all one big mistake and that they were getting back together again for good. But it didn’t happen.

  One morning, when Mum found herself tripping over the lead to Dad’s laptop, she actually swore. Mum almost never swore.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said, half-laughing. ‘If I used that kind of language you’d go mad.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Mum winced. ‘But it’s getting beyond a joke, isn’t it? This place just isn’t big enough for three. The extra cash is nice, of course, but…’ She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. ‘And that dog… I know you’re fond of him, but he’s so big and drippy.’

  ‘It’s good to have Dad around again, though, isn’t it?’ I asked. ‘He fixed that blocked drain the other day and you said it saved you calling a plumber.’

  ‘Yes, all of that’s great.’ Mum stopped and sighed. I could see her choosing her words. ‘And it must be nice for you to have him around, I know. It’s just… all gone on a bit longer than I expected.’

  Yeah, for me too, I thought. But not in the way that you mean.

  One late Saturday afternoon in October, when it was already dark, we only had candlelight and the air in the flat’s main room was thick with the scent of incense. We played Ghost Dance at a low-ish volume. It felt like the presence in the room was so close I felt I could reach out and touch it, so solid I half expected it to speak to me.

  Zoe ended every ritual with the words: ‘And please. Get rid of her.’ At first, I’d always assumed she was talking about Kerry. But I started to wonder. Zoe would rather spend cold, damp nights on a mattress in the empty flat than go home. And although we both had cuts on our hands and arms from the blood part of the rituals, I’d noticed, when we got changed for games at school, that Zoe’s bruises had all but gone.

  I sat staring into the candle flames. Zoe blinked and gazed out of the big bare window at the black sky with its odd, sparse star. And there was a loud thumping at the door.

  My heart quickened. I was about to get up, but Zoe shook her head at me. ‘No one knows we’re here,’ she whispered. ‘We shouldn’t answer it. They’ll have to go away.’

 

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