by Gill, J. G.
“Hang on,” he said.
The man paused, waiting for Bede to catch up. They crossed the road and took the second street off the intersection, making their way past a line of rusty grey warehouses that had their windows boarded up. They reminded Bede of someone who’d been beaten around the head in a bad fight.
“Not sure I think much of Dad’s office,” he said.
The man shrugged. “Certainly keeps any nosey gits away.”
They came to a door that had been bolted with a large padlock. The man fiddled with something in his pocket, before pulling out a key and quickly unlocking the door.
“This way,” he said, motioning Bede to follow him inside. “Just hope the boss is in. He’s the one you really need to speak to.”
Bede stepped onto the solid, cement floor and glanced around at the cavernous space. The inside of the building seemed just as a rundown as the outside. Huge swathes of plaster had flaked away from the walls, leaving exposed raw, red bricks. A nest of frayed, grimy ropes hung limply from the pulleys bolted to the ceiling. The musty air smelt of oil and machinery. Bede followed the man to a metal staircase. He glanced at the rickety banister, made of badly-welded iron piping, and quickly decided against using it. After following the man up several flights of narrow steps, Bede eventually arrived at a small landing. The man knocked on the black door directly in front of them.
“Come in,” a low, clear voice replied.
The door opened to reveal a candlelit room and a man dressed entirely in black, sitting at a desk. His dark mahogany chair looked like an antique – it was covered in deep red velvet and had a high back which was carved in thick scrolls, reminding Bede of a lion’s mane. The man was poring over a map that covered the entire surface of the desk.
At the window, on the far side of the room, a woman stared out across the city, her long emerald green dress exposing a ‘v’ of creamy-coloured skin. Her dark hair was coiled into a knot at the back of her head. She turned to face Bede as he entered the room, her blood-red lipstick stark against her pale face.
“Hello Bede,” she said smoothly.
“Arlene!” Bede let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God you’re okay. Are you here looking for Dad as well? Where is he? Is he all right?”
The candles in the room quivered and the man at the desk cleared his throat in annoyance.
“Morana, you’re ruining the light,” he said curtly, leaning in towards the map.
“Sorry,” she said, smiling insincerely and moving quickly away from the window.
“Morana?” Bede frowned, as he glanced from Arlene, to the man seated at the desk, then back to Arlene again. “I don’t…What’s going on?”
Arlene’s sly smile slowly spread into a dangerous smirk.
“Oh, Bede,” she said, as if referring to an extremely funny, private joke. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“No idea about what?” said Bede. “Where’s Dad, is he here as well?”
“No, your father’s not here,” said Arlene. “And the name’s Morana.”
“I don’t understand,” said Bede. “I’ve never heard Dad call you Morana.”
“That’s because he didn’t know it was my name,” she replied.
Bede’s feet shifted uneasily. It seemed as if a very strange game was being played and no one seemed remotely interested in telling him the rules.
“Okay, well, Arlene or Morana or whatever it is you’re now calling yourself, where’s Dad? Did you know the cops were at our house? The place has been completely smashed up. Clare and I were hiding under a bed and we heard one of them say that I’d murdered Dad. It’s unbelievable.”
“To the contrary,” said Morana, calmly. “It’s quite believable, since that’s exactly what I told the police.”
“You what?” Bede swallowed hard. “Why would you do that?”
“Because, unfortunately, at least part of it is true. I hate to be the one to tell you, but your father is dead.”
Bede stared at her. He could only assume she was being so casual because she was still in shock. He took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on something other than the nausea that was now churning in his stomach. He desperately wanted to be sick.
“What happened?” said Bede quietly.
“It was Thursday afternoon. We had a large consignment of reptiles at home and one escaped. Unfortunately your father forgot that king cobras can actually bite.
“Thursday afternoon? At home?” said Bede. “That’s the same day that someone broke in and trashed the place. I…I don’t understand.”
“There wasn’t a ‘break-in’, Bede. We had to make it look like that to avoid the police asking difficult questions. It could have jeopardised our entire operation. The police are much more sympathetic to burglary and grieving widows than they are to reptile smuggling.”
“So that’s why you told the police it was me?” said Bede. “Why didn’t you just tell the truth?”
“And lose everything?” said Morana, snorting dismissively. “Not after all the hard work I’ve put in.”
“I could get locked away for years if I get convicted,” said Bede. “Besides, I don’t even understand why you’re involved. You told me this was something that Dad did, that you just played along?”
“I lied,” said Morana simply.
Bede shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know who you are. My stepmother would never have acted like this.”
Morana tipped her head back and laughed loudly.
“Your stepmother! I know, how hilarious. Five years of the most agonising acting I’ve ever had to do in my life, pretending that I loved your father and that I liked you odious brats. All those endless meals and tedious conversations. Well it’s over now, Bede. The acting’s over and not a moment too soon.”
“Why?” said Bede. “Why did you pretend all this time? Why did you set Dad up like this?”
“Because there was a lot of money at stake. We needed a reputable front and your father was easy to fool,” said Morana.
Bede was shocked. Who was this woman? She looked and sounded exactly like Arlene, and seemed to know all about the last five years when a woman called Arlene had come to live with the de Milo family. Yet this version of her – this ‘Morana’ incarnation – was so cruel.
“So who’s this then?” said Bede, jerking his head towards the man sitting behind the desk. “Your boyfriend?” He spat the word distastefully. “I guess you were screwing around behind Dad’s back as well?”
The man behind the desk glanced up from the map and glared at Bede with undisguised disdain.
“I’d be very careful what I said if I were you.”
“He’s just being melodramatic,” said Morana, explaining Bede’s outburst.
“Melodramatic?” Bede repeated, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly the first time. “How can you say that? How can you possibly say that, given everything that’s happened? Dad was your husband. You loved him like Clare and I did.” He could feel his voice wobbling as he struggled to stay in control. There would be time for crying, but not now. Not in front of this cold bitch.
Bede took a deep breath, preparing himself to ask the hardest question of his life. “What happened to…I mean, where is…” Try as he might, the last few words just wouldn’t come.
“Your father’s body?” said Morana.
Bede nodded dully.
“Stanley took care of it. He’s what we call, our ‘Cleaner,’ aren’t you Stanley?”
Stanley blushed with pride. He wasn’t used to receiving acknowledgement from a woman as beautiful as Morana.
“Ahem,” said Stanley, clearing his throat, “yes, that’s right, ‘the Cleaner’.”
“And the writing in blood?” said Bede.
“Ah yes,” said Morana, “again, the work of Stanley. It certainly added a touch of authenticity, didn’t it?”
“This is so screwed up,” said Bede. “Arlene, Dad’s dead. Your husband is dead!”
“I thin
k we established that about ten minutes ago,” said the man at the desk wearily. “It was a regrettable turn of events. There is some outstanding business that I still need to discuss with you, but right now I have some very important work I need to finish. I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t mind waiting?” He turned towards Morana. “Can you show our guest to the visitor’s lounge please?”
“Certainly,” Morana smiled. “This way.” She nodded at the door on the far side of the man’s desk, opposite the one where Bede had entered the room.
“I don’t want anything to do with your filthy business,” said Bede, “and nor does my sister.” He turned to Morana. “You know, my sister, Clare, your stepdaughter, the little girl who used to look up to you? Well she actually needs me right now, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be going.”
Bede started to backtrack to the entry, only to find that Stanley was blocking the doorway. Bede turned to Morana with a confused expression.
“It’s not really an invitation, Bede. Like Demarge says,” she nodded towards the man sitting behind the desk, “he still needs to have a little talk with you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind following me?” Her question was clearly rhetorical.
“What choice, do I have?” said Bede, irritated by Morana’s faux politeness.
He began following her towards the door on the far side of the room, his feet dragging in a residual show of protest. There had to be a way of getting out of there. Whatever the weird guy in black had to say to him, Bede was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear it. Morana had almost reached the door to the lounge, when he decided to take his chance. With her back towards him, Bede suddenly turned on his heel and ran towards Stanley, plunging his fist deep into the man’s fleshy stomach. Stanley gave a winded “oomph” and slumped to the ground.
“I, I can’t breathe,” he gasped.
Bede snatched the door handle and twisted it in one sharp movement. Before anyone in the room had time to react, he fled down the stairs and ran from the building.
“Why, that little...” Morana was incandescent with rage.
The man at the desk, however, seemed unconcerned.
“Let him go Morana. He can’t get far. Besides, it’s not him I need, it’s the girl.”
“Of course,” Morana replied quietly. “I know you’re right. It’s just that I’ve already had enough disrespect from that boy. I was looking forward to turning the tables a little.”
“And so you shall,” said the man. “All in good time.”
CHAPTER VII
Vince got ready for school with unusual enthusiasm. His meeting with the boss the night before had put him in an extremely good mood. Not only had he landed himself a job that paid a lot of money, but the work itself was a doddle. He stood before the mirror in his towel, rubbing the hair putty in his hands to warm it before smoothing it into his freshly-showered scalp. Looking good, he thought to himself, separating the curls with his fingers. He turned his head to catch a better view of his profile. His Mum’s boyfriend had left his aftershave in the bathroom cabinet. Vince popped the lid and splashed the contents around his neck.
“Chicks love this stuff,” he said to the mirror. His reflection smiled in agreement.
Vince grabbed a fresh shirt from the drying rack, and his trousers from the back of the chair where he’d slung them the night before, and dressed quickly. Passing through the kitchen on his way out, he grabbed a wedge of cold pizza from the fridge and his school bag from the counter and headed out the door. He couldn’t wait to get to school.
Arriving at the gates, Vince ran into one of the BBTs. He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.
“Hey babe, what’s up?” he said. She gave a simpering giggle. “Seen Thomas?”
“Thomas? Doubt it,” she replied. “He’s probably still running home to Mummy, or whoever it is he lives with.” She laughed. “Man, that was funny yesterday.”
“Yeah,” said Vince distractedly. “I’ve got to find him, so if he turns up let me know, yeah?”
Vince hurried up the school stairs and began scouring the classrooms and corridors. Being a nerd, there was a good chance that Thomas had arrived early and was already studying somewhere. If so, there was no point wasting a perfectly good lunchtime trying to track him down. But Thomas was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until halfway through English that he finally arrived, dragging his bag dejectedly into the classroom. The teacher simply nodded as he walked in and made his way down the back.
From the corner of his eye, Thomas could sense that Vince was staring at him with scalding intensity. He tried to ignore him, concentrating instead on the back wall. After what seemed like miles, Thomas eventually made it to his desk. He dropped his bag and quietly breathed a sigh of relief – so far today no one had tried to trip him up or make a fool of him. As he pulled his book from his bag he glanced across at the desk in the opposite corner of the room. Clare’s place was empty.
Several desks up, Vince had begun scribbling on a piece of paper and was now folding it in half. He turned to Justin who was sitting directly behind him.
“Hey man, pass this to Tom, Tom,” he whispered. Justin shrugged.
“Whatever,” he said.
The note passed through several more pairs of feverish hands, eventually landing on Thomas’s desk. He rolled his eyes forward, cringing at the sight of his name on the paper – there was no mistaking that it was for him. He stared at it for a couple of seconds before finally reaching out and opening it.
Hey, I need to talk to you, it said.
Thomas recoiled when he saw the signature: Vince. The last thing he needed was to talk to him. Thomas tried to concentrate on the lesson, but the note continued to stare at him ominously from the corner of the desk. It was only too soon before the bell sounded for the next class.
Vince quickly shoved his things into his bag and pushed his chair back, turning to wink at Justin.
“Watch and learn, my friend, watch and learn.”
Justin shook his head. “C’mon man, leave it, we’ve got better things to do.”
Vince replied with a sly smile and continued towards the back of the room. Thomas was hunched over his desk, packing books away. He sensed that someone was standing in front of him and slowly lifted his eyes until they came to rest on a pair of denim-covered legs. He knew instantly that it was Vince and started shovelling his books even faster.
“Hey, Thomas did you get my note?”
Thomas nodded slowly without looking up.
“About yesterday, man, I was out of line. I shouldn’t have given you such a hard time.”
Thomas paused. Had he heard correctly? Was Vince really apologising?
“Yeah, I’m really sorry, it just got out of hand.”
“Okay,” said Thomas, slowly. There had to be a catch.
“So, friends?” said Vince.
“Sure, yeah, whatever,” said Thomas. He began to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
The fact that Vince was apologising in the first place was weird enough. But wanting to be friends? Something wasn’t right. Thomas pushed his chair back and flung his bag onto his back.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
“Hey, about being friends, I mean it.” Vince smiled as he reached for Thomas’s shoulder. “Look, I’ve just started this part time job and the guy I’m working for is looking for more people. The work’s easy and he pays a bomb, no kidding. How about we meet after school and I can take you to meet him?”
Thomas flinched under Vince’s grip. “Why don’t you ask Justin?” he said.
“Justin already works for him,” said Vince. “I got him the job. It’s what I do for my friends, help them out.”
“Oh,” said Thomas. He stepped towards the door, but unfortunately Vince wasn’t ready to move.
“So how about it? You interested? Look, it’s totally no obligation on you or my boss, I’m just trying to make up for what happened yesterday and to help a couple of friends out.” Vince smiled again.
“Wha
t kind of work is it exactly?” asked Thomas.
“Errands mainly. Picking things up, dropping them off. Kind of like a courier service. It’s easy.”
A voice in Thomas’s head screamed thanks but no thanks, but something made him stop. He had been trying for months to make friends and fit in at this strange new school. Being a small, quiet, plain-looking guy, and arriving at a time when everyone already had their friends had made Wiltsdown High a pretty lonely experience. Trusting someone like Vince was obviously a massive risk, but it was the only invitation he’d had since he’d started.
“Well, okay then,” said Thomas. “I’ve got to be home by five, but I guess it couldn’t hurt just quickly meeting your boss first.”
“Great, how about 3:15pm at the school gates? I’ll meet you there,” said Vince. He could almost feel the money in his hands.
CHAPTER VIII
It was only once Mick had given up trying to break the door down that the strange woman in the blue dress let go of my arm. My heart thudded like a hammer in my chest and although I needed to get back out onto the street and find Bede, I had to catch my breath first. I turned to the woman who was calmly standing a couple of paces away from me.
“Thanks so much, I thought I was done for,” I said. Saying the words out loud made me realise just how relieved I was to be safe, and also just how angry I was at Bede. “It’s so mental, my stupid brother decided to nick a loaf of bread and got found out so we had to run for our lives. It really annoys me when he does stupid, stupid things like that. Honestly. Do you have brothers? I wouldn’t recommend them. They can be such total boneheads sometimes. Anyway, thanks for your help. I’d better get going and try to find the idiot.”
I reached for the door, but the woman somehow managed to slide between me and the handle, barring the way. Thin ribbons of light poked through the wooden slats so I could now see her face properly. She had fine, aquiline features and clear, blue eyes. Her hand was spread against the door, the pale fingers unusually long and delicate. I wondered how she’d possibly managed to hold me as tightly as she had with fingers like that.