by Maria Farrer
Tyler takes my hand and flashes me a warning glance, but Declan’s already jumped down. He comes right up to me, his face too close to mine. I’ve got my back to the wall and there’s nowhere else to go. The cold brick presses against my shoulder blades. He hooks his finger over the top of my towel and I can feel his knuckle against my breastbone. If he pulls now, my towel will come off and I’ll be left naked. I keep my face turned away from his, avoiding eye contact. I can feel his breath against my face. Minty. Sweet.
“You’ll do as you’re told and you’ll keep that mouth of yours shut. Do you understand?”
I do understand. I understand he’s threatening me. I understand I have to do what they ask because there’s one of me and three of them. My towel is coming loose and the only thing keeping it around me is the pressure from my biceps.
“Let go of me,” I say. “Please.”
“There’s no point in trying to run,” he says. “We know where you live and where you work. In fact, we know most things about you.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask.
“Perhaps you should’ve been a little more cooperative yesterday,” he hisses right into my ear.
Tyler must’ve known. His lips are pressed together and he’s staring at the floor. I can see his fists clenching and unclenching. Have I misjudged him that badly? Do something, I plead with him silently. Don’t just stand there. A momentary flick of his eyes towards me and I can see he’s as scared as I am.
“How touching,” sneers Declan. “Looking at your boyfriend for help. Save yourself the bother, I think you’ll find his loyalty is with me, isn’t it Tyler?”
“I don’t have to do anything you say.” My voice comes out cracked and husky. “Get out of my house.”
Declan lets go of me with a sharp shove and pulls something from his pocket. I shrink back, expecting him to pull a knife. Instead, dangling in front of my eyes, is Liam’s stone. Declan, his back to the window, holds it high in the air, where it swings slowly, catching the light from the sun. Something explodes inside my chest and I have to grit my teeth to hold it in. I can’t take my eyes from the stone. Liam’s stone in Declan’s hands.
“We know all about Liam – don’t we, Tyler?” says Declan.
Declan knows nothing about Liam. That’s what Tyler told me. He said Liam never knew Declan. Someone is lying. The stone hangs just out of my reach. I can’t control myself and I lunge for it.
“Not so fast,” says Declan, tossing it over his head at Joel who catches it.
“How did you get it?” I shout.
“Shut up and go and get dressed.” He grabs my arm and twists it.
I close my eyes against the pain and the fear.
“I’ll come,” I say. “I’ll come.”
“Of course you will,” he says in an oh-so-pleasant voice. “Now go and get ready.”
Tyler is immediately by my side, his hand pressing against my back, gently pushing me towards the stairs. My brain is sending messages to my legs to move, but my legs aren’t responding.
“It’s all right,” he whispers, increasing the pressure, keeping me moving.
He follows me all the way up and into my room where he closes the door and leans hard against it.
I put as much space between us as possible. Hate is an easy emotion to deal with. I hate Declan and I should hate Tyler. I want to hate him.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Did you bring them here? Was it your idea?”
He shakes his head.
“Did you steal Liam’s stone from me?”
He pauses. “Not exactly.”
“You’ve got to tell me what this is about.”
Tyler looks lost, agonizingly lost. I can’t hate him. My instinct is to wrap my arms around him and protect him, but I force myself to keep a distance between us.
“What did Declan mean about yesterday?” he asks.
“You don’t know?” I open my cupboard and try to find clothes. I need simple actions, little tasks to calm me down. “He was waiting for me. After work.”
Tyler is shaking his head. “And?”
“He offered to give me a lift home.” My stomach contracts as I say it, as if I’m going to throw up. The thought of what might have been. I push it from my mind.
Tyler takes a ragged breath in, tips his head back and flattens his hands against his cheeks and pulling the skin downwards, away from his eyes.
“Look, cooperate today, and perhaps that will be the end of it,” he says.
“The end of what?”
“It’s complicated. Just do this for me, will you?”
“It would help if I knew what it is I’m doing. I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“Come on Amber, it’s nothing.”
The way he says it makes me doubt him even more.
“You heard Declan. He was threatening me. Why would he threaten me if it’s nothing? Tell me what he meant about knowing all about Liam. How did he get my stone?”
“Liam’s stone.”
I shriek with frustration. “Liam is dead. It’s the only thing I have of his. You know that. You have to get it back. I promised…”
Tyler pulls at his hoodie. He must be baking. “We’ll get it back. Do as Declan tells you – just this once – then they’ll leave off bothering you. And me, come to that.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Please, Amber. It’s not worth going against him. It’s fine. I promise it won’t happen again.”
I look at my arm. The marks where Declan gripped me are still there. I try to ignore my emotions, try to keep my thoughts on track.
“You need to get ready,” he says, his hand on the door. I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. It’s as if he’s trying to make up his mind what to do. I listen to his unsteady breathing. Suddenly he comes towards me. I place my balled fists against his chest, holding him away.
“We need to stick together.” He says each word slowly, with emphasis. “And Declan’s right. It’s time you stopped being pushed around by your parents. We’ll look after you.”
“I don’t need looking after,” I say. “I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”
Tyler nods slowly, then turns and leaves the room.
Tyler’s battered car creaks under the weight of the four of us: Joel and me in the back, the others in the front. Joel’s got an old football on his lap and he’s drumming on it with his fingertips in a steady monotonous rhythm. I’d like to pull his hands away and pin them to the seat. Declan’s driving and I notice he’s angled the rear-view mirror so that he has a clear reflection of me. I have to look away so we don’t make eye contact. There’s a strong smell of sweat and I angle my head towards the open window and breathe the fresh air.
We stop off at the local Spar and Tyler’s sent in to buy beers. He comes out with two six-packs which he puts on the floor in front of him. We continue driving until we reach a nicer area of town. We leave the car and walk a random route to a small park. I don’t know why we couldn’t bring the car closer, especially in this heat.
The boys kick around the football for a while, in a bored kind of way. I try to join in, but I’m not in the mood for running around and I’m pretty useless so I give up and flop down on the grass. They soon join me. It all feels like a bit of a facade. Beers are handed out and I listen to the click and hiss of ring pulls being opened. Declan opens another and presses it into my hand. I don’t like beer, but I know better now than to try and cross Declan. I watch Tyler’s Adam’s apple rising and falling as he swallows. The heat has made me thirsty and the cool of the can in my hand is tempting. I take a few steady sips. It’s not so bad. The boys tip back their heads, drain their cans, give each other a nod then squash their empties and chuck them across the grass.
“Drink up,” says Declan looking a
t me.
All three watch as I force down gulp after gulp. Maybe it’s the heat, or the lack of food, but the alcohol goes straight to my head and it’s taking the edge off my worry. I drink almost to the bottom then chuck my can to one side, as if it’s something I do every day. The remaining contents seep out on to the grass.
There aren’t many people about – a few dog-walkers and a woman out for a slow, effortful jog. I watch her with fascination, and giggle. Perhaps Liam and Tyler never went running at all – just came to the park and drank beer. The boys are in a bit of a huddle so I roll over onto my stomach and pick at blades of grass, building a small mound.
I see Tyler and Joel walking away. I jump to my feet too late. Declan puts his hand on my arm and holds me back.
“You’re coming with me,” he says.
I shake my head.
“Come on, live a little.” He starts to walk and I find myself following. My feet are sluggish, my thoughts a little fuzzy.
We stop near the road in the shade of some trees. I can’t see Tyler and Joel any more and I ask Declan where they’ve gone.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be back,” he says. He’s staring across the road and I lean slightly towards him to see what he is looking at.
“See over there?” Declan speaks quietly. “Number 27. I want you to go and ring on the doorbell.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what I’m telling you to do.”
Declan points at a smart house on the opposite side of the street. The door isn’t clearly visible. The house is set back from the road by a gravelled, off-street parking area and separated from the pavement by a leafy ledge.
“If anyone answers,” Declan continues, “Just say you’re looking for Miranda Stackpoole.”
I give a nervous laugh. “Who’s she?”
Declan rolls his eyes. “Do you have to ask questions the whole time? It doesn’t matter who she is.”
“So I ask for Miranda Stackpoole and then… ?”
“Smile and be polite. They’ll tell you she doesn’t live there or something. You’ll apologize and say you’ve made a mistake. You’ve been brought up nicely. I’m sure you can sound convincing.”
“And if there’s no answer?”
“Job done. You come back here and you wait.”
I look at the door and then at the ground. Declan’s feet are almost toe to toe with mine. I want to think this is some kind of game. My hands are clasped tightly together, so tight my knuckles are hurting.
“Is that it?” I say, looking up and forcing myself to meet his eyes. What I see makes me take a step back and then another. Each move I make, he follows. His eyes bore into me, a hint of amusement mixed with simmering menace and I’m like a trapped animal.
“OK,” I say, because I know it is the only thing I can say.
Declan raises his eyebrows. I guess he was expecting me to refuse.
“Oh, and just so you are quite clear,” he says, “you won’t breathe a word of this to anybody. Ever. You’re part of us now, Amber. You dob us in, we’ll do worse to you.”
The threat is clear and I understand this is not a game. Yet I sense a small opportunity.
“You promise to give me back my stone and I promise I’ll keep quiet.”
Declan laughs through his nose and shakes his head. I see his hand go to his pocket. I can’t believe it’s this easy. I hold out my hand for the stone.
In a moment I see a flash. No stone but the hard, shiny steel of a blade. For some reason, I try to laugh, but he’s holding me close with one arm and pressing the knife against my shoulder with the other, the bone of his jaw jutting into the side of my head. Declan is threatening me with a knife.
“I don’t negotiate,” says Declan, keeping hold of me, “especially not with girls. You will do as you’re told and you won’t open your mouth. Do you understand? One word out of you and it won’t just be you that gets it. It’ll be your friend Tyler, too. And you wouldn’t want that, would you? You’ve caused enough trouble already.”
I’m trying to make sense of his words. I focus on the knife. All I can do is nod. He pushes me away roughly.
“Now go and knock on the door.” He enunciates each word slow, through gritted teeth. I watch myself from a distance; I am someone else. “Miranda Stackpoole,” I whisper.
“Good.” He flips the knife back into his pocket. “Now get going and keep it natural.” He unrolls a tote bag and hands it to me.
“What’s this for?”
“Keep hold of it. There’s a phone in there. See anything we should know about and you press the call button. Let it ring twice then cut off.”
“Ring twice and cut off,” I repeat like a puppet. I slip the handle of the bag over my shoulder.
He nods his head in the direction of the house and I take a couple of steps, but then he grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me back.
“Wait,” he hisses down my ear. He holds me still until the same slow jogger as before passes us – she gives us a hard stare. We wait, rigid, until she’s panted her way down the street. Then he gives me a push. I cross the road on to the pavement and make my way over the gravel drive towards the door. I try to look casual and relaxed. Miranda Stackpoole. I say the name over and over. I pretend I’m doing a dare like Liam and I used to do when we were kids. We’d ring a doorbell then run away and hide – except this time I mustn’t run away or hide. This time … I don’t let myself think.
There’s no sign of any car in the short driveway in front of the door, but there’s a light on inside. I peer through the window, then ring the bell and wait. There’s no answer. I look back at Declan, but I can hardly make him out in the shade of the trees. I wait some more, kicking the step a few times with the toe of my shoe. I ring one last time, more confident now, leaving my finger on the bell. At least I won’t have to go through some stupid charade. By the time I turn around again to check with Declan, he’s gone.
I do as I’m told and head back to the trees on the edge of the park and sit down. I put my hand into the bag, pull out the phone, examine it and put it back. A car passes, but apart from that there’s not much going on. I watch dark clouds slide across the sky. The atmosphere is heavy and close and my head has started to ache. I close my eyes then jump as a deep rumble of thunder grumbles across the distance.
The phone buzzes. Without thinking, I reach for the phone in the blue bag, but there’s no message. Then I fumble in my pocket for my own. It’s a text from Mum. She’s on her way back from the hospital. Some sensible part of my brain tells me I need to get home. But I can’t go home. I’m powerless and I’m scared. I hold my head.
“Come on,” I say under my breath. “Come on, come on.” I don’t know if I’m talking to myself or to the others. I wait. The leaves on the trees rustle.
With a bang, the door of number 27 bursts open and I’m on my feet. Tyler’s out of it, running fast, closely followed by Joel. There’s muffled shouting from inside the house. Declan almost trips down the step, but gathers himself and keeps going. A woman is walking along the pavement pushing a baby in a buggy. Her face registers horror as Declan whacks straight into her, tipping the pushchair, spilling the child and the shopping on the ground. He doesn’t stop. Instinctively, I move towards her to help, then my brain kicks in, everything moving in slow motion.
“Fucking run,” yells Declan.
Another person races out of the house, a uniform. Sirens scream and reality kicks in hard. This is trouble and I’m part of it. Adrenaline throws my body into action and I start to sprint across the park after the others. I can hear the woman screaming abuse after us, the baby crying, more shouting and footsteps following me. I keep running, try to keep the others in sight, but they’ve split off in different directions. I clasp the bag to my chest, look over my shoulder, stumble, right myself, stumble again, my ankle going over. I can fee
l my fall in slow motion, hands going out, skidding away, chin hitting the grass, teeth against gum, scrabbling to get up but tripping again. Pressure on my shoulder and I’m caught.
I gulp for air, my cheek pressed to the ground, my hands pulled behind my back. I can taste the blood in my mouth, feel my world spinning out of control.
I hear words, some clear, some blurred. Something about arrest and burglary and not trying to run. I lie still, my whole body tense. The policeman seems to wait until he’s certain that any resistance has gone out of me. He asks me my name. Am I OK? He helps me to my feet and I try for a nod, running my tongue along the inside of my lower lip and feeling the fullness of the rough, painful swelling. He has handcuffs in his hand, but he doesn’t use them.
I search around for the others but there’s no sign of them. I’m on my own.
They lead me towards the road, where there’s a police car waiting. This can’t be happening.
The policeman tells me to get in and a woman opens the door.
“No, wait. You don’t understand. You have to listen to me; I haven’t done anything.”
“You can tell us all about it at the station,” he says.
“Station – what station?”
He puts his hand on the top of my head and, automatically, I duck into the open door of the car.
“Amber. You did say your name was Amber, didn’t you?” He leans into the back of the car as he speaks to me.
“Yes.”
“You have been arrested. We’re taking you to the police station. Do you understand?”
I process this along with the sounds and the smells and the feel of the seat against my legs.
I’m in a police car. I’ve been arrested. What do I do? What will my parents do? Oh God, what will they say? What will Gran think? This’ll kill her. I have to stop them finding out. Declan never said – not in so many words. They could have been doing anything. How was I supposed to know? I shouldn’t have run. If I hadn’t run then the police might’ve thought I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t have anything to do with it – not really.