Blood Entwines

by Caroline Healy

  Thursday

  ‘Want to go out?’ Hannah whispered.

  ‘I hate to disappoint you, Hannah, but currently we’re stuck in English class,’ replied Kara.

  Hannah continued to look at her, waiting for an answer.

  Sighing, Kara conceded, ‘OK. To do what?’

  ‘To go to a gig.’

  ‘A gig?’ Kara scrunched her face in disbelief. She hadn’t thought Hannah went out. She never mentioned any other friends, had never alluded to a social life before.

  ‘Yes.’ Hannah looked at her pointedly. ‘You know . . . an event that people may go to from time to time to listen to a musical group perform.’

  Ignoring the barbed comment, Kara returned her attention to her book and attempted to read the passage she had been staring at for the last fifteen minutes. She’d been thinking about Ben. His taking a family holiday in the middle of term seemed strange and the more Kara thought about it the more she began to question. Why would he go away in the middle of school term with the football trials almost here? He would be missing training. Was he avoiding her? Had something happened?

  After a moment Kara looked up, sighing loudly. There was no point in trying to study, not with her mind otherwise occupied. ‘Why do you want to go to a gig?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Hannah. ‘It’s just something I’d like to do.’ She thrust a flier across the table while the teacher wasn’t looking.

  Kara glanced at it. A gig in The Loft, Thursday night. To commemorate Angie.

  She remembered the newspaper report. A girl, college student, went missing a few weeks ago, body found in the river. Angie used to work at The Loft, according to the text at the bottom of the flier. It was their way of honouring her memory. All proceeds going to the River Search and Rescue.

  ‘OK,’ she conceded. ‘But I need to be somewhere after lunch. I’ll meet you outside The Loft at eight.’

  Kara got off the bus on the corner of Cranmore Avenue and Sunnyside Street.

  The bus stop was right in front of a boutique coffee house, next to a beauty salon. There was a small local library in one of the old Georgian buildings on the opposite street corner. The rest of the properties were residential. Kids from the local primary school were walking along the footpath in front of her.

  Ben lived in the nice part of town. Kara counted the house numbers as she walked. Halfway along the street she spotted a navy Ford parked in a driveway. The house was red brick, with a wide porch. All the windows were painted white, the timber-work immaculate. Two pot plants, devoid of any flowers, flanked the front door.

  The family was home. She was sure of it.

  From her viewpoint across the street she noticed a silver people carrier pull up outside. It had a large dent along the back door and two rust patches over the wheel rim. A woman got out of the driver’s seat.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ she called as she rummaged in her bag for something. ‘Where the hell did I put . . .’ Kara could hear her easily.

  Two kids hopped out of the back seat of the vehicle. They were about eight years old, a boy and a girl. They wore the same bottle-green uniform as the children Kara had seen earlier.

  ‘Thanks, Aunty Christine.’ They jostled each other as they jogged to the front door, their arms laden with school bags, coats and winter scarves.

  Their aunt took out a cigarette from her handbag and lit it, her lips pursed together, her gaze towards the house disapproving. She exhaled a long puff of smoke before getting back into the car and driving off when the front door opened.

  What was that all about?

  Kara looked left and right before crossing the street. She took her time, walking slowly, trying to formulate sentences in her head. What exactly was she going to say when she got to the front door?

  She needn’t have bothered worrying, because as soon as she stepped one foot on to the driveway the children re-emerged, with woolly hats jammed on their heads, scarves and coats secured around their bodies.

  ‘No, Alex. I said I wanted to get pizza. You always choose.’

  ‘I do not. We had pizza last week. It’s Chinese tonight.’

  ‘No way . . .’

  They bickered the whole way down the drive, unaware that Kara was standing there.

  ‘Whoever makes it to the end of the street first gets to choose,’ shouted the boy, taking off at speed. The girl gave a shout and took off after him, her blonde pigtails bobbing as she ran.

  Kara was about to back away, a feeling of intrusion overcoming her. Why was she here? She had no business poking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted.

  But it was too late. Ben, shrugging on his jacket, called, ‘James, Alex, wait for me . . .’ The last word died on his lips as he spotted Kara. He dropped the house keys.

  There was no escaping now. ‘I . . .’ she began, then stopped.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ His voice was cold. He bent down to retrieve his keys, closing the door behind him.

  ‘Sorry, I was passing and I saw the car and I thought, you know, I thought you were on holidays. I didn’t mean . . . didn’t . . .’

  ‘Ben!’ Someone shouted his name from inside. There was the sound of breaking glass and cursing.

  Ben moved forward, piloting Kara's body round, propelling her down the driveway.

  ‘Do you need to see to that?’

  ‘To what?’ He was moving fast, pulling her along with him.

  ‘Someone just called your name. From inside. Your mum perhaps?’

  ‘It’s nothing. She’s fine.’

  ‘Are you sure? I think –’

  ‘It’s nothing, OK?’ he said, angrily.

  Kara extracted her arm from the pinch of his grip.

  ‘Whoa.’ She held up her hands. ‘Apologies for caring. Sorry I bothered to come see you to check if everything was all right.’

  ‘I thought you said you were passing?’

  ‘What? I was. I was passing. I just . . .’

  ‘Well, which is it? Either you were passing or you weren’t.’

  ‘Forget it.’ Kara turned, walking quickly towards the traffic lights. She could see a number 8 bus at the stop further up the street. It would drop her at the other side of town.

  ‘Kara,’ Ben called after her.

  ‘I need to get home,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I’m going out later. Thing to do.’

  ‘Come on, slow coach.’ The twins were a couple of houses away, calling for their brother. Kara didn’t wait around. She ran across the junction just as the lights turned green for the oncoming traffic. She jogged a few paces to the bus, rapping on the door, squeezing in as it pulled away into evening traffic.

  She didn’t look back.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘Where are you?’ Kara checked her phone for the tenth time in ten minutes. Hannah was late. Maybe she wasn’t going to show. Kara rocked forward and back on the balls of her feet. Standing like a numpty on the side of the street in front of The Loft was not a good way to start a Thursday night.

  A couple of guys wolf whistled at her as they passed. Kara rolled her eyes.

  It had taken her ages to decide what to wear. A gig at The Loft was a big deal. She’d chosen a long-sleeved black top, marginally see through, under her much-loved leather jacket. Jeans versus skirt, the decision took twenty minutes out of her day. In the end she went for a tartan punk skirt over heavy black tights with dark brown studded ankle boots. She looked good, she hoped.

  ‘Come on, Hannah!’ She checked her phone again.

  The Loft was a converted warehouse on the outskirts of town. It was basically the shell of a building, red bricks stacked haphazardly, seemingly defying gravity, one on top of the other, up to three storeys high. Small timber-frame windows were dotted across the street-facing side of the building.

  The ground floor had recently been renovated and soundproofed. It was an ideal space for live bands and concerts. And tonight it looked like the whole town was out in force. Kara recognis
ed a few people from her school. Some had graduated the previous year and now went to university in the city.

  ‘Kara.’

  She jumped at the sound of her name. Ben, his hair damp from the shower, his shirt tucked hastily into his jeans, was walking towards her. Kara felt something clench in her stomach and a warm heat spread through her. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, pull his mouth down towards hers.

  She swallowed hard, trying to clear her head. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m meeting some people. I kinda thought I might bump into you.’

  ‘Ya?’ She reminded herself about their last conversation, keeping her voice cool.

  ‘Look, about earlier . . .’

  Kara turned away, craning her neck to see further down the street, unwilling to let Ben glimpse the hurt in her eyes. He took her hand and Kara froze. His palm was warm. She could feel tiny calluses just beneath the skin. He said her name again and she was compelled to look at him.

  ‘I’m really sorry. You caught me by surprise. I . . . I have some family stuff that I needed to see to. My mum isn’t well.’ He abruptly stopped talking. Kara could see his Adam’s apple move in his throat as he swallowed. She recognised his reluctance to speak. He mirrored her when she was forced to talk about her father.

  Kara squeezed his hand, interlacing her fingers through his. ‘It’s fine. I should have called first.’

  His body relaxed, the muscles around his neck and mouth loosening. He smiled and small lines around his eyes crinkled, his dimple showing at his cheek.

  ‘Do you want to go inside? It’s freezing.’ It was pretty cold and by now Hannah was almost fifteen minutes late. Maybe she wasn’t coming.

  Kara nodded. Hannah had her number. She would call if she needed to. Together, they made their way with the rest of the crowd into the building.

  Inside it was packed. Kara discreetly placed earplugs in her ears. There was no way she would survive the night if her eardrums exploded from the loud music. The atmosphere was tense with excitement. People were talking loudly, laughing, messing around. The bar was packed. The rule at The Loft: if you looked underage you got carded; if you didn’t, they left you alone, as long as you behaved. The management didn’t want any trouble with the law.

  The band was setting up, sound-checking the speakers. Kara gritted her teeth as the screech of amplifiers filled the space. She would have to stand somewhere near the back. Ben was searching for someone, his head swivelling from side to side.

  ‘Who you looking for?’

  ‘No one,’ he replied quickly, and Kara knew he was lying. ‘Do you want a drink?’

  The prospect of elbowing their way through the ever-increasing crowd was not appealing, but where they stood was right in front of the main speaker. Kara wouldn’t be able to stand that level of noise.

  ‘Sure.’

  Ben turned to lead the way, tightening his grip on her hand. He glanced back. ‘Don’t let go.’ Kara had no intention of it.

  A girl approached them, blocking their way forward. Kara had to do a double take.

  ‘Hannah?’

  She was dressed in a dark T-shirt, jeans and black biker boots. Her hair was pulled back from her face, exposing her features. She looked much older than she did in her school uniform, and much more striking. Kara realised that she was staring.

  ‘What?’ asked Hannah.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just . . . just, I’ve never seen you, I mean, I’ve never . . .’

  Hannah turned and stared at Ben, her eyes unblinking.

  ‘How did you know where to find us?’ asked Kara, trying to distract Hannah from the dagger looks she was throwing.

  Hannah completely ignored Kara’s question. ‘Thanks for waiting for me.’

  Kara opened her mouth to explain, but Hannah continued talking. ‘I can hear your silence a mile away,’ she said, looking at Kara. ‘You’re the only one whose decisions I can’t see.’ She looked down pointedly at Kara’s hand still clutching Ben’s.

  Kara gave her an apologetic smile. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Ben pressed his thumb into the back of her hand. Before she could do anything, he was introducing himself to one of his own classmates.

  ‘Hi, I’m Ben.’ He held out his free hand towards Hannah. Kara groaned. He had no idea who he was talking to.

  ‘I know who you are,’ she said acidly. ‘I sit in front of you in English class and have done for the last year.’ Before Kara could do anything, Hannah turned, marching off into the crowd.

  Ben’s mouth hung open and Kara had to resist the urge to laugh at him.

  ‘What was that all about? Do I know her?’ he asked, looking into the crowd after Hannah’s retreating figure.

  Kara shrugged. Ben would just have to figure the mystery out for himself. If Hannah wanted to be friends, then she would have hung around.

  Loud sound checks pitched through the microphone and Kara winced.

  The lead singer came onstage. He had long dreadlocks and a bushy beard, piercings along his ears and tattoos on his forearms. He looked the part and suited the grungy music that erupted throughout the space. People began to surge towards the stage to get a better look and to shout out their appreciation.

  ‘Come on.’ Ben pulled her in the direction of the bar.

  Kara pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering if she should have brought ear muffs too. The noises, the press of people’s bodies around her, made her fidget, her eyes darting from side to side. She gripped Ben’s hand, afraid of losing him in the crowd.

  As they moved together through the mass of people, she stumbled over someone’s feet and lurched forward. A hand grasped her round her other wrist, jerking her into a standing position. She looked up and locked eyes with Conor. His fingers dug into her exposed flesh. He smiled at her before taking a swig from his bottle of beer.

  Dismissively, he flicked her hand away and turned his attention back to the band. He didn’t seem to notice Ben. And Kara wasn’t going to volunteer for a cosy replay of the scene at the gap.

  At the safety of the bar, the crowd seemed to thin, everyone’s attention focused on the stage. Kara rubbed the inside of her wrist, noticing angry red marks where Conor had gripped her.

  Ben ordered two drinks, shouting to the barman. Kara flinched. It was loud. Maybe the gig wasn’t such a great idea. Where was Hannah? She stood on her tiptoes and scanned the crowd, looking for her.

  The floor was crowded, the people swaying together to the music, the steady pulse, pulse of the base beat, matching her own beating heart. She glanced at Ben. He was frowning. She touched his forearm and shouted over the music.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Your friend, Hannah, is she on her own?’

  Kara nodded.

  ‘It’s a bit rough tonight – we should go look for her.’

  Kara tensed, apprehensive about plunging back into the crowd, but knowing that they did need to find Hannah.

  ‘I’ll go. You stay here,’ volunteered Ben. ‘Just keep close to the bar and you’ll be OK. I’ll be back in five minutes.’ He held up his palm, splaying his fingers. Kara nodded, wanting his hand to be wrapped tightly in her own. Instead he turned and moved into the crowd.

  Kara took a sip from the bottle of beer he’d bought. It was warm. A guy slid up beside her and leaned against the bar. She tried to ignore him and cringed as he awkwardly began to make conversation over the blare of the music.

  He leaned in, shouting, and subsequently spraying spittle into her ear. ‘Hi there.’

  He was older, about twenty-five, the end of his vest top riding up, exposing a rim of flesh as he stretched to get closer to her.

  ‘Buy you a drink?’ He indicated the bar counter, the bracelets along his arm catching yellow counter lights.

  She smiled tightly at him, trying not to stare at the skull-and-crossbones pendant round his neck.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  He leered at her and she realised that he was completely drun
k.

  Oh shit. She should have gone with Ben. She didn’t want to scan the crowd because that would mean taking her eyes off the man next to her.

  She sensed a presence to her right and said a silent thanks. Quickest five minutes ever. Ben had come back. She put her beer down on the counter.

  She was wrong.

  She smelt him first, a sickly pungent odour. Groaning inwardly she knew it wasn’t Ben currently standing too close for comfort at her right elbow. The guy with the skulls grinned and nodded to whoever was standing next to her. Kara turned and was confronted by a man with a shaved head and a series of tattoos circling his neck.

  ‘Hi, sweetie.’ He breathed foul breath into her face.

  She stepped back and knocked against the bar. The music was getting louder, the room was getting smaller, and the crowd was caught up in the heaving, hypnotic bass beats.

  ‘What do you want?’ She kept her voice steady.

  ‘A dance.’ The guy to her left unashamedly stared at her breasts. ‘My friend Conor said you’d be game.’

  She cringed away from him but assertively replied, ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  She tried to move but the man with the tattoos round his neck blocked her.

  ‘Tut, tut, tut. That’s very rude and no way to speak to a friend.’

  ‘You’re not my friend,’ she replied evenly, trying to step round him.

  He placed his hand on her forearm. ‘That’s not what Conor said. He said you were a very friendly kind of girl, if you know what I mean.’ The man winked. ‘Come on, we just want to talk to you. Stay here with us. It’ll be fun.’

  Her blood began to push and tingle in her veins, a searing heat crept from within, a painful iciness matched it from without.

  She didn’t see him until it was too late. He appeared at her side, grabbing her arm, whipping her towards him. In one easy move he gripped her round her middle, somehow managing to lift her off her feet for a moment to drag her towards him. His grip bit into her skin. She squirmed for release.

  He planted her firmly behind his heavy bulk. The feel of him so near sent a dagger of pain through her veins, as half her blood beat within her for release.