She had been wary of him at first, if she was honest. When he turned up at the office to see his mother who was some kind of ageing goth, and told her he had been sent home from school for fighting, she knew he wasn’t the kind of boy she wanted to spend time with. But he had insisted it wasn’t his fault, that he was just trying to sit and read and the other boy had picked on him and started it so she had given him the benefit of the doubt. She asked him what he had been reading and when he told her The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, and that he had been really enjoying it and they had a discussion about it, she changed her opinion of him. Maybe he was telling the truth.
So when her dad suggested they take a look round town together she didn’t mind as much. And he knew as much about Newcastle as she did, so they were even. And she had really enjoyed herself. The film wasn’t very good, a teen comedy about a geek getting a hot-looking girl pregnant, but that was OK. They had fun. And when he walked her back to Donovan’s flat they aired their impressions of the movie. He had thought the same as her and they enjoyed sharing deprecating remarks about it that were actually funnier than the actual film had been.
He walked her to the main entrance of the block of flats, stood there on the doorstep.
This was awkward. She liked him, he was sweet, but sweet didn’t always translate into anything else. He was fun to be with. But she didn’t want to spoil it by making it something it wasn’t. Or something she didn’t think it was.
‘I’ve had a really great time today,’ he said, looking at his trainers. ‘Thanks.’
‘You too. It’s been fun.’
He smiled shyly, kept his eyes downcast. ‘Erm, look, I … I don’t know what’s happening tomorrow, if I’m, you know … back at school or anything …’
She waited. Here it comes, she thought.
‘But, erm … if you’re around and you’ve got nothing to do … well, of course you’re around and you’ve got nothing to do, sorry that’s … well, anyway, should I … you know, call you?’
He really was sweet, she thought. And quite good-looking too, in his own way. And intelligent. And funny. In fact, she could do a lot worse. Certainly worth spending another day with.
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Let’s swap phone numbers.’
He looked as though he couldn’t believe his luck. They swapped numbers, then he stood back and looked at her. Oh God, she thought. He’s going to try and kiss me.
But he didn’t. He smiled at her, catching her eye, this time. ‘Thank you. I’ve … thanks.’
She smiled. ‘Get home safely.’
‘I will.’
He looked relieved that the kiss hadn’t happened. So was she. She thought. Probably.
He turned, walked away. She watched him go. He got a way down the street, turned and, when he saw her still there, smiled and waved. She waved back. He walked off, a spring in his step.
She let herself in with the key her dad had given her, made her way up to his floor. He had told her he wouldn’t be back until late and to let herself in. And not to tell her mother that he had allowed her to be out so late with a boy. She smiled at that. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she had thought Maybe she would be able to talk to him. Get things sorted.
She let herself into the flat.
It had been a good day.
‘Hello.’
She answers her phone without thinking. Not knowing who it might be but hoping there will be no more talking tonight. She cannot talk any more.
‘Hello, babe.’
She hears the voice and freezes. She doesn’t answer. She can’t answer.
‘I hear you’ve been a naughty girl. I hear you’ve been talking. That’s a no-no, isn’t it? Remember what we agreed? What would happen the next time you felt like doing that?’
Her mouth moves but nothing comes out. She wants to ask so many questions, but she doesn’t want to hear any of the answers. She wants to put the phone down, pretend she never answered. Pretend she’s somewhere else. Someone else.
‘You know what I said would happen, what you’d have to do …’
She nods.
‘Speak up, I know you’re there.’
‘Yes …’
‘Then do it.’
‘No … no …’
‘You’ve got no choice. You broke the rules. You know what to do. Do it now. Now.’
He tells her where.
‘Alone.’
He hangs up She stares at the phone. She wants to scream her lungs raw, throw herself at walls, slice her skin down to the bone. Anything but what he wants. She sobs. She knows he’s right.
She wipes the tears and snot from her face with the back of her hand, gets up, walks to the door. Her heart is like concrete.
She leaves the flat.
19
‘Yeah, it’s a pisser, I mean, what isn’t? The way they’ve got it, fuckin’ government’s got no respect for the workin’ man. Have they?’
Tess agreed that indeed they didn’t.
Rob continued. ‘You’ve got to make money where you can these days. How you can.’
Tess spotted her cue. ‘And how are you doing it?’
Rob gave a smile that he probably intended as cunning and clever but came over as more feral and vicious. ‘We’ve got a plan. Me an’ the missus. A plan. An’ a fuckin’ good one too.’
Rob then excused himself to go to the toilet. Tess watched the drunken man weave his way across the barroom floor and stifled a smile. She had him right where she wanted him. The man was drunk and, he had revealed, skint. A perfect combination for what Tess was about to propose.
Tess had fed him drinks all night. She had tried to maintain the illusion that she was keeping up with him, matching him pint for pint, but when his back was turned she had been returning them to the barmaid for her to pour away. She knew exactly what she was doing and it only increased her sour-faced appearance but she didn’t tell Rob. Probably because Tess had included her in every round she bought. However, Tess still felt the effects of the alcohol and knew she shouldn’t have much more. Which meant it was time to move up a gear.
Rob returned from the toilet, resumed his seat.
‘So,’ said Tess. ‘You were saying.’
Rob looked blank.
‘Your missus and you have got a plan.’
Rob remembered. As the memory of his plan returned, his face split into a venomous grin. ‘Yeah. Get our own back. She’s fuckin’ suffered, my missus. Fuckin’ suffered loads. ‘Bout time she got her own back. Got what was comin’ to her.’
‘You mean money?’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Rob, ‘money. Plenty of it …’
‘And what about you? Do you get it as well?’
Rob frowned. ‘Yeah …’
‘You don’t sound so sure. Will you get it? Or will she?’
Rob frowned further. He didn’t answer. Tess pressed on.
‘Because I’ve got a proposal that could make you a hell of a lot of money. A hell of a lot. In no time at all. Say yes and the money would be with you tomorrow.’
Rob’s eyes were once again alight with feral cunning. He was listening.
‘You see …’ Now or never, thought Tess. She leaned in close, reminding Rob of her breasts, took a deep breath, dived right in. ‘I know who you are, Rob. I know who your missus is too. Or rather was. And I know what she did to that boy.’
Rob stared at her, suddenly sober, too stunned to speak.
‘And there’s been another boy killed right where you live. You can put two and two together …’
Rob still said nothing, just stared at her.
‘So this is my proposal. Talk to me. Give me an exclusive about her, what your life’s like together, all that. We’ll get some photos and in return all your money worries will be over. You might even get your own book out of it. Get you on Richard and Judy’ She smiled what she assumed was her most winning smile. ‘What d’you say?’
Rob looked at her, slid off the bar stool and stood up slowly. He said on
e word.
‘Cunt.’
And threw a punch that knocked Tess right off her stool and sent her crashing to the floor, drinks spilling, glass breaking. There was a blinding flash.
Tess opened her eyes, saw Rob standing over her.
‘Fuckin’ cunt.’
She closed her eyes expecting a kick that she knew would shatter ribs. It never came. But there was another blinding flash. Then she heard quick footsteps – Rob running away. There were gasps and shrieks from around the pub. Tess ignored them. She groaned, touched her face. Brought her hand away wet and red.
‘God …’ It hurt. It hurt so much …
Tess opened her eyes. She wanted to cry, but Collins was standing over her. She tried to pull herself together, be professional.
‘Did you … did you get the photos …?’
‘Yeah,’ said Collins, animated for the first time since Tess had met him. ‘Got a couple of great ones as he hit you. Another of him standing over you about to do some more damage. Good stuff.’
Tess managed a weak smile. It hurt even more.
‘Come on then … let’s get after him …’
Collins pulled her roughly to her feet. The pain was so intense as he did so that Tess feared she would black out. She didn’t realize a punch to the face would affect her whole body this way. Her head was spinning, she thought she might be sick. Then tried to get a grip once more. Focus. Concentrate.
‘Public interest, my fucking arse …’
Collins dragged Tess to the car, looked at her as she sat down.
‘You did good, Posh Bird. We’ll make a reporter out of you yet.’
They set off for the estate, Collins’s endorsement ringing in her ears. It almost made the pain worthwhile.
Almost.
Pez was upset. Renny was his best friend no doubt, the best he had ever had and ever would have, but sometimes he upset him. Like tonight.
They had been to the off-licence with that journalist’s money, bought enough sweets to send them to Haribo heaven, two packets of cigarettes – which surprised Nihal because they only ever had the money for singles usually – and some WKDs and cider. Sorted for the night.
Sitting on the bench watching the world get dark. Nothing else to do. Sugar-rushing from the sweets, mellowing out from the cider. They couldn’t open the WKDs. They talked, laughed. Sat for long stretches in silence.
The sugar comedown hit Pez hard, he kept eating and drinking to keep on the high. Renny went into one of his angry moods, twitching and jumping around, mouth moving worldlessly, having imaginary conversations with whichever demons were plaguing him. Pez didn’t interrupt, knew better than to do that when he was in one of these moods. Just sat next to him, happy just to be beside his friend. His best and only friend.
And then Renny, after necking the last of the cider and lobbing the plastic bottle as far as he could, had started. They had this money left, their heads were loaded, they should go somewhere, do something. And Pez, like always, agreed. It was too early to go and see the cars and the police were in the area, watching for Calvin’s murderer after Calvin’s death. So they couldn’t go there.
Renny had been on edge a lot the last few days. Ever since Calvin died, Pez thought, but he didn’t say it because it just might make Renny angry. So he said nothing. He was good at saying nothing.
So he and Renny had walked round the estate. They knew every centimetre of it, had walked it so many times. Knew which bits were usually safe, which were best avoided. But it wasn’t happening tonight. The booze, the sweets, the cigarettes had all promised something but failed to deliver. There was something more happening, something better, but Pez didn’t know what and didn’t know where. So Pez told Renny he was going home.
And that’s when the trouble started.
Renny turned on him. Nought to sixty in seconds. ‘Go then, fuckin’ go, you fuckin’ cunt. Go on then, see if I care. Do I care? I don’t fuckin’ care. Fuck off. You can do what you fuckin’ want. I don’t fuckin’ care …’
And on and on. Pez was hurt by the words; even for Renny they were unkind. When Renny was unkind to him Pez usually forgave him. But the look in his best friend’s eyes when he was ranting at him told him it was best to leave him alone for the time being. So Pez left him.
But Pez didn’t go home. He couldn’t. Renny’s words had upset him. So he walked round, on his own, thinking. It took him a long time to think. So it took him a long time to walk.
He bought more sweets, another two cans of cider.
Lost all track of time.
‘Here. Just here …’
Collins pulled the Golf up on the Hancock Estate, opposite the block of flats that Mae Blacklock lived in. Tess, curled up foetally in the passenger seat, turned to look out of the window. Arrows of pain shot up through her as she did so. ‘Jesus Christ …’ It hurt so much. So fucking much.
Her first reaction after Collins had given her that rare note of praise and the comedown had hit, was to want to cry. Scream, shout and bawl. She didn’t want this any more. Being hurt, sitting in cars all night, trying to destroy people’s lives just to sell papers. She wanted to go home. Not her little flat in Dalston but her real home. Back to her parents in the country. But she got a grip. It was just the pain talking. She would be all right once they got moving.
Yeah. She’d be back to normal.
‘We must have … have … beat him back … let’s, let’s wait …’
Collins took out his camera, attached a telephoto lens. He was like a different person from the one he had been all day, Tess thought. Focused, alive. Now she could see why he was so highly rated.
They waited, watched. One of the kids Tess had been using staggered past, Pez, she thought his name was. He looked wasted. Probably on my money, she thought, curling down so she couldn’t be seen, head spinning once more.
Pez disappeared round a corner. Tess and Collins kept watching the flats.
Eventually they saw movement.
‘That her?’ asked Collins.
Mae Blacklock was coming out of the stairwell, hurrying across the square.
‘That’s her,’ said Tess.
Collins adjusted focus, started snapping.
‘Look.’
From the opposite side of the square Rob appeared. He looked out of breath, as if he had ran the whole way. He saw her, summoned up some remaining energy and ran towards her.
‘Round two …’ Tess said.
Rob started talking to her, loudly, waving his arms round, pointing back the way he had come. They couldn’t hear what was being said but Tess was sure she knew what Rob was saying. Mae Blacklock looked suddenly terrified. She fell into Rob’s arms. He held her tight. Collins kept snapping.
‘Ah, isn’t love sweet …’
Then she abruptly pulled away. Rob looked surprised. She was saying something to him, pointing off in another direction. He grabbed hold of her arms. She bent forward, pleading with him to let her go. He shook his head. She pleaded some more. Tess wished she could hear what they were saying.
Eventually she broke down in tears and Rob let her go. She hugged him, clinging like she didn’t want to let go until she reluctantly pulled herself away. Just as reluctantly he let her go.
‘You getting all this?’
‘Crisp and clear.’ Collins kept snapping away.
Suddenly Rob looked over, anger in his face.
‘Fuck,’ said Tess, ‘he’s spotted us.’
Rob was striding over to the car, hands balled into fists. He stopped on the way to pick up a length of pipe that was lying in among the debris of someone’s front garden.
‘Move,’ said Tess, ‘move …’
Collins dropped the camera with its heavy lens on Tess’s lap. She gave a start, let out a grunt of pain. Collins started the car, put it in gear, drove off before Rob could reach them.
He drove out of the estate, didn’t stop until he was sure there was no danger. Turned the engine off. Tess let out a huge sigh
of relief. It hurt but she didn’t mind.
‘Fuck me …’ She laughed. ‘That was close …’
‘What should we do now?’ said Collins, picking up his camera again, checking that Tess hadn’t damaged it with her lap.
‘Let’s wait,’ said Tess. ‘She seemed like she was off somewhere. Let’s give her time to do what she has to do and get back. Then we’ll go and keep watch.’
Collins nodded.
‘So what d’you reckon then?’ asked Tess. ‘Have we got overwhelming public interest yet?’
Collins looked at Tess’s ruined face. ‘I think we’re getting there.’
Tess managed a mangled smile. ‘Fantastic,’ she said.
She hoped she meant it.
Pez walked. Because he didn’t know what else to do.
He shook his head, tried to clear it. Those extra cans of cider had been a mistake. Instead of making things clearer they had just made them murkier. He didn’t know why Renny behaved the way he did. He knew dungs were bad at home, that his father hit him and hurt him, sometimes in horrible ways, in fact it was partly why Pez was friends with him. Because he thought he would appreciate someone being nice to him. But it didn’t always work out that way. Renny didn’t always appreciate it. Or if he did, he didn’t always show it.
But at least Renny had a dad. Pez had lost his. To lung cancer. He remembered when he used to be a big bloke, the life and soul. Always laughing, with a drink in one hand and a fag in the other. He can’t think of his dad then without smiling. But not later. When he had a lung removed and needed a canister of oxygen in the front room just to get up and make a cup of tea. He didn’t laugh so much then. Or when the cancer really got him, when it stripped him down to his bones like that monster off Doctor Who. He was a walking skeleton. Well, not walking. Just lying there.
But he missed his dad. Wished he was there. His mother tried her best but when he died she seemed to as well. Or a part of her did. The happy part.
He closed his eyes. He shouldn’t drink. It always made him sad eventually.
Pez looked up. He was in a part of the estate he hardly ever came to. He didn’t know anyone here and no one knew him. Not good. Time to go home. He didn’t even have a blade on him. He could see Renny tomorrow, hope he was in a better mood. Do something fun together to put him in a better mood.
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