Blood Rush (Lilly Valentine)

by Black, Helen

  ‘I’ve read the transcript of Miss Valentine’s application at the Magistrates’ Court,’ the judge placed the nib of her pen on one of the papers in front of her, ‘and the main thrust of her argument seemed to be that the prosecution case was weak.’

  Jez turned to Lilly and gave her the sort of liquid smile that had led her into that cloakroom with him, many moons ago.

  ‘And I have to say,’ the judge continued, ‘I have a fair deal of sympathy with that position.’

  Jez held up his hands. ‘It’s true that at that point we didn’t have a statement.’

  ‘And I still don’t seem to have one today,’ the judge replied.

  ‘Fortunately, Your Honour, we can go one better.’ He paused for effect. ‘We have the witness here at court.’

  The judge raised an eyebrow and Lilly cringed.

  ‘I think, Your Honour, you’ll be very interested in what she has to say,’ Jez said.

  ‘Yes indeed.’

  Tanisha leaned in close to Lilly. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘They’re bringing Chika in,’ Lilly replied.

  ‘Here?’ Tanisha was horrified.

  Lilly grabbed her client’s hand. ‘Don’t say a word. Don’t even react. Let me deal with her.’

  Behind them, the entrance door opened, and Lilly heard the rustle of clothes and the pad of feet. She and Tanisha resolutely stared dead ahead, their backs ramrod straight, their necks stiff. At last, out of the corner of her eye, Lilly caught the dark outline of a figure and allowed herself to cast a glance. Immediately she regretted it as she met Chika’s gaze full on. The intensity crackled like electricity. Startled, Lilly had to look away.

  When Lilly had gathered herself enough to raise her eyes once more, Chika was being helped into the witness box by Jack. He gestured to the seat and gently pressed Chika into it. All trace of the raw energy that had unnerved Lilly had disappeared. In its place was the same look of confusion that had been evident on Tanisha’s face.

  Lilly took a deep breath and tried to clear her head. Everything she’d been told about Chika had lead her to expect a monster. Instead, here was another frightened child.

  * * *

  The windows and front door of 63b Clancy are boarded up with metal grilles. There are loads of flats like that around the estate. Gran’s always complaining about them.

  ‘People all around the world are living in tents and shanty towns. It’s a disgrace to let perfectly good homes stand empty or to let the vermin take them over.’

  ‘Rats?’ Demi asked.

  ‘Worse than rats,’ Gran replied.

  Demi lifts her hand to rap on the door. She wonders if there’s anyone inside, and if there is, how they’ll hear her through the thick steel. She doesn’t need to worry. Her knuckle is still touching the cold metal when the makeshift flap cut into the door slides open.

  ‘Yeah?’ a voice comes from inside.

  She’s practised what to say all the way over here, but now her throat has gone dry.

  ‘I need to …’ She coughs and gulps. ‘I need to give something to Danny.’

  ‘What?’ the man asks.

  Demi’s hand flutters to the hidden envelope. ‘I don’t know. Chika sent me.’

  ‘Chika?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fine. Hand it over.’

  Demi reaches into her waistband and passes the package through the slot. Her hand is shaking as it is grabbed from her.

  ‘Wait there.’

  Demi has to snatch her hand clear as the flap slams shut. She takes a step to the side and leans her back and head against the stonework. As she concentrates on breathing, she can feel the bricks prickling her scalp. At the far end of the walkway a woman leaves her flat. She’s got a toddler with her, most of his face masked by a dummy. They glance up at Demi and scramble in the opposite direction.

  At last she hears the scrape and clank of metal, but instead of the flap, it’s the door that swings open. A man with dreads to his shoulders pokes his head outside and checks up and down the empty walkway before grunting at Demi.

  ‘Come.’

  Like a bird, she hops inside and feels the whoosh of air as the door is wrenched close behind her. She tries not to panic as she hears the bolts being locked and peers into the shadows beyond. There is no light in the hallway and the air smells of chemicals. The man doesn’t even look at her as he leads her to the sitting-room door.

  ‘Danny wants to see you.’ He jerks his head and pushes the door open.

  The smoke and brightness make Demi blink as she passes into the sitting room. Then she blinks again in surprise. The room is twice the size she expected. An enormous cave lit by bare bulbs. In the dead centre is a huge square coffee table, surrounded on all sides by mismatched sofas, where a group of men are playing cards. As Demi shuffles into the room, they ignore her, but she can see Danny leaning back into the dirty, sagging cushions, a cigarette clamped between his lips.

  When she’s crossed a few feet she can see why the room is so big. The central wall has been knocked out, leaving a jagged, gaping hole. Demi is looking at the sitting rooms of 63b and next door.

  Without warning Danny looks up at her. His milky eye, smooth as a peeled lychee, makes her shudder now as much as the first time she saw it.

  ‘All right?’

  No. She’s not all right. She’s locked in a disused flat with one of the scariest men she’s ever met in her life.

  ‘Fine,’ she says.

  He nods as if this news is important to him, then lays down his cards in a fan on the table.

  ‘Read ’em and weep, brothers,’ he laughs.

  The others all shout together.

  ‘Motherfucker.’ The man next to Danny throws his hand across the floor, where a six of diamonds lands among the cigarette butts.

  Danny is still laughing as he rakes a pile of money towards him with the side of his palm. Demi’s eyes open wide as she mentally counts at least three hundred pounds. Then she sucks in her breath. There’s a gun. It’s laid casually amongst the phones and the ashtrays, but it’s definitely a gun.

  Danny catches her clocking it and picks it up, holding it next to his cheek, in line with his scar.

  ‘Thanks for this, Demi.’ He pauses, watching her reaction. ‘What? Did Chika not tell you what you were bringing for me?’

  Demi clenches her mouth shut, determined not to show any emotion. Inside the envelope she had felt something small and hard. She’d thought it might be a tin of cash. Or drugs. Then again, she’d known it was too small. The gun glints silver in the windowless gloom.

  Danny kisses his teeth. ‘She’s a crazy bitch that Chika. Or maybe she thought if she told you, you’d bottle it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t.’ Demi can feel the heat in her cheeks.

  The men laugh and click their wrists. The only one not smiling is Danny.

  ‘Good girl.’ He blows out a plume of smoke. ‘Now I need you to do something else for me.’

  Demi nods. It’s the last thing she wants to do but she’s hardly about to say that.

  ‘Just another delivery,’ he says.

  Her heart is beating so loudly she’s certain they must be able to hear it. It’s like a drum in her own ears.

  ‘Rocky,’ Danny calls out of the room.

  The man with dreads appears at the door, a container of chow mein in one hand, a white plastic fork in the other. ‘Wha?’

  ‘Give the sister here the gear for Solomon Street,’ says Danny.

  The man forks in a mouthful of noodles, soy sauce dripping down his chin. He sucks them up with a smack and snorts at Demi as she follows him to the kitchen. She’s glad to escape from Danny but the sight of the kitchen fills her with horror.

  On the stained work surface, where Gran keeps the bread bin and her Lean Mean Grilling Machine, are lots of large bottles with yellow labels. Demi might not be able to read too good, but she knows the symbol for flammable and she knows what it means. Nearby, in fact far too near, is an ol
d formica table covered in a series of pipes and funnels joined together by plastic piping, bubbling away on top of three Bunsen burners all attached to a Calor gas canister. It looks like a joke version of the chemistry lab at school.

  The smell makes Demi feel sick. Like a mixture of glue and bleach. Rocky doesn’t seem to care and continues slurping up his noodles.

  ‘In the corner.’ Rocky points with his fork.

  Demi steps gingerly around the table towards a tray full of pills. The round white ones that are supposed to dry up a cold. Gran swears by hot water and lemon laced with chilli, but Demi’s seen these tablets in the chemists.

  ‘Not those,’ Rocky rolls his eyes. ‘The baggies, dem.’

  Demi casts her eye around and sees a shoe box in the corner full of twenty-pound wraps of glass. She scoops it up, pushes down the lid and shoves it under her arm. She could be carrying a new pair of trainers rather than two thousand pounds’ worth of drugs.

  ‘Solomon Street,’ Rocky tells her. ‘Ask for JC.’

  ‘What number?’

  Rocky gurns at her. There are bits of food stuck between his teeth.

  ‘Unless you serious stupid, you’re gonna know.’

  Throughout Chika’s testimony, Tanisha didn’t move. She didn’t even lift her head. Instead she concentrated on her nails, peeling away the painted tips and letting the flakes of varnish fall, until her legs were covered in what looked like gold leaf.

  When Chika mentioned her by name, Tanisha flinched but didn’t look up.

  Lilly made studious notes. Not because she needed to but because she needed to focus. Not on Chika’s words, but on her own reaction to them. How was she going to undermine her? Which card should she choose to nudge so that the whole pack collapsed? Or should she just sweep away the deck in one move?

  When she was finished, Chika moved to leave the witness box.

  ‘Please remain seated, Miss Mboko,’ said the judge. ‘No doubt the defence have some questions for you.’

  A shadow passed across Chika’s face and she looked over at Tanisha and Lilly. There was a glimpse of the intensity Lilly had seen earlier as Chika entered court. Something powerful, yet trapped. As if sensing Lilly could see, it fled, but not before Lilly made a mental note of how to proceed with her cross-examination.

  ‘Thank you for coming today.’ Lilly gave a warm smile as she got to her feet.

  Chika shrugged. ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Quite a way for you,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Come now, it’s a two-bus journey at least, and we all know how frequent they are these days in Luton.’ Lilly gave a small laugh. ‘You did come on the bus, didn’t you?’

  ‘Nah.’ She nodded at Jack, who had taken a seat to the side of the court. ‘He brought me.’

  ‘That was very kind of him. Did you arrange to do that over the phone?’

  Chika shook her head.

  ‘Then how did you sort things out?’ Lilly asked.

  ‘He came and got me.’

  Lilly paused as if she were puzzled. ‘How did he know where to find you?’

  ‘Dunno. Tracked me down, innit.’

  ‘So you didn’t volunteer to come,’ said Lilly. ‘The police, as you put it, had to track you down and bring you here themselves?’

  Jez pulled himself to his feet. ‘With all due respect, Your Honour, this application was listed at such short notice there was no way the witness could have known anything about it.’

  ‘It’s a fair point,’ the judge said to Lilly.

  ‘Then I’ll put it another way.’ She narrowed her eyes at Chika. ‘I don’t think you would have come here today of your own accord and I don’t think you’ll come again in the future.’

  ‘Is there a question coming?’ Jez rolled his eyes.

  Lilly ignored him and kept her own eyes trained on Chika. ‘Frankly, I don’t think anything you’ve told the court today is true.’

  ‘You calling me a liar?’ Chika glared back.

  ‘Yes,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Your Honour,’ Jez called out. ‘Who is giving evidence here? Miss Mboko or Miss Valentine?’

  Lilly pressed on regardless. There was something dangerous about Chika and she needed the judge to see it.

  ‘I think you made this whole story up.’

  Chika pushed the tip of her tongue between her lips and pressed them around it.

  ‘I think you hate Tanisha McKenzie and you saw this as an ideal opportunity to make trouble for her,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Your Honour,’ Jez raised his hands so that they framed his head.

  ‘Miss Valentine, I can see where you’re going with this,’ said the judge, ‘and I’m asking you to stop.’

  But there was no way Lilly was going to stop. She could see the colour drain from Chika’s tongue with the pressure she was placing on it. Her nostrils flared as she used every ounce of her willpower to restrain the fury that was fighting to be set free.

  ‘I think you didn’t always feel this way about my client. You used to be the best of friends. But something happened and everything changed.’

  ‘Miss Valentine, I am now telling you to stop this.’ The judge raised her voice.

  Despite the warning, Lilly continued. ‘I think, Chika Mboko, that you are a violent criminal with a grudge against Tanisha and that there is no reason that this court or anyone else should believe anything you say.’

  ‘Enough,’ the judge bellowed.

  Chika jumped to her feet in the witness box, her entire body shaking. She bared her teeth at Lilly. This was it. The reaction Lilly had been searching for. The rage.

  ‘I … am … not … lying,’ Chika whispered.

  In that instant Lilly knew she had lost.

  Jamie staggers down the street, hooting hysterically. He can’t remember when he last had such a laugh. His new mate Trick, or is it Track, no, definitely Trick … anyway, he’s a blast. He bumps into a litter bin overflowing with rubbish and ricochets sidewards, slipping on a discarded box of chips.

  ‘I’m a stunt man.’ Trick writhes around on the pavement. ‘Roll the fucking cameras.’

  They met a couple of hours ago in a swing park. Jamie had just scored from some girl on the Clayhill. Not the usual one. He’d walked around a bit, looking for her, when another one called over to him.

  ‘You chasing?’

  He wasn’t sure. The other girl’s gear was always good. He’s read on the internet that some dealers cut it with all sorts of things. Rat poison and stuff. At least he knows the other girl’s drugs won’t kill him.

  When she began to walk away he decided it didn’t matter. It’s probably only injecting it that can do you any harm. After all, they put loads of chemicals in cigarettes and you don’t see people keeling over when they light up.

  So he scored a wrap and set off to find somewhere to take a puff. Finally, he found himself in a park. It was pretty rundown, with graffiti sprayed over the roundabout and the tyre swing was melted where someone had set it on fire.

  It was then he saw Trick. Their eyes met and he knew. They were the same. He darted under the slide and Jamie followed him.

  Underneath, it was dark, but not cold. They had to crouch to fit. It reminded Jamie of a summer spent in Tuscany. Mum and Dad hired a villa and invited all their friends to visit. The adults spent their days around an enormous table by the pool, drinking Chianti, while Jamie sheltered from the sun under a slide in the garden.

  Trick pulled out a bag and a piece of tin foil, and patted his pockets for a lighter. Jamie took out his own drugs and together they did their thing. He was nervous about getting high with someone else. Would it be the same, or would it spoil that delicious rush? He needn’t have worried. It was even better. Somehow their shared secret intensified the moment.

  ‘See that?’ Trick pointed to a dark stain a few feet away. ‘That’s blood, that is.’

  ‘No way,’ Jamie exclaimed.

  Trick nodded. ‘Some black girl go
t proper battered.’

  They both looked at it with serious faces. Then Trick started to giggle, and soon he and Jamie were coughing and spluttering with the humour of it.

  As Jamie helps Trick to his feet now, he can’t believe how much they have in common. Okay, they’re from totally different backgrounds, but it just doesn’t matter. The government are always banging on about how the middle classes shouldn’t shut themselves off from the rest of society, how they should mix with the other members of their community. Well here is Jamie, well and truly mixing and loving every second of it. Maybe he should write to the prime minister and suggest he get all the kids together and throw them in a room with some meth. That would do wonders for his social cohesion policy. Jamie is laughing so hard he has to stop and bend forward from his waist to catch his breath.

  Trick brushes the chips from his jeans. ‘Shall we have another hit?’

  See, that’s what Jamie means, they’re virtually reading each other’s minds.

  He looks around him. There are people milling up and down the street.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Trick puts a hand on Jamie’s arm. ‘I know a place.

  The game was up. As Chika was led out of court by Jack, she gave Lilly a sneaky smile. She had won.

  Lilly did a quick calculation. Her application had rested squarely on the assertion that the prosecution’s case against Tanisha was built on sand. That Chika wouldn’t turn up and shouldn’t be believed. Sadly, she hadn’t been able to prove that. Chika’s evidence now lay on the table together with CCTV footage of Tanisha chasing the victim into the park, and of course, the fact that Tanisha had lied to the police.

  There was no way the judge was going to grant bail.

  ‘Your Honour,’ Lilly said, ‘I should like Annabelle O’Leary, to give evidence.’

  The judge frowned at Lilly. She had not been amused by Lilly’s refusal to stop her cross-examination of Chika.

  ‘I am telling you now, Miss Valentine, that this had better not be a repeat of your previous spectacle.’

  ‘Your Honour, I think it’s important that you hear about Tanisha’s current foster placement. From the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’