Ugley Business

by Kate Johnson

  “Can I help you?” I asked, and he took one look at me, raised a gun and fired.

  I ducked, and the bullet buried itself in the wall behind me. I fumbled for one of my bloody millions of guns, but by the time I’d got my finger on the trigger of the revolver, the guy was in my car, over in the driver’s seat, and Ted was being reversed out of the slot at a speed I’d never be able to replicate.

  “You fucking, fucking bastard,” I said, firing off a shot that did nothing but break the driver’s window. “Come back!”

  Yeah, right. Why did I even say it? I fired another shot, aiming for the wheels, but hit the ground instead. I was so bad at this. And I was running out of bullets, too.

  But the shot alarmed Tammy, who’d been in a tree across the car park, and she bolted down to the ground and over to the house. Right in the path of the car. I saw it all in slow motion—the guy saw her, looked right at me and rammed his foot on the pedal.

  There was an awful crunch, a sound I’ll never, ever forget, and then a screech, and then Ted was gone and Tammy was a bloody mess of bones and fur.

  I tried to remember all those RSPCA leaflets I’d had when we got Tammy as a baby kitten, completely tiny and afraid of everything. This was a cat with shadow-phobia. She was a rescue cat, so small and unbelievably adorable, and I could never understand how anyone could be cruel to something so soft and pretty and helpless. Maybe it was because she was so helpless. I don’t know. People are sick.

  While Tammy’s life flashed before my eyes she lay there, completely still, and I was almost sure she was dead until I saw her tail move. Overjoyed, I lifted her head and her eyes flickered. If she could move her tail, I reasoned, then her back wasn’t broken. I ran over to the semi-abandoned building site on the far side of the car park and grabbed a hazard sign to put in front of Tammy so no one would drive into her while I ran inside, hardly noticing I was crying some more (How? How much fluid did I have in my body?), grabbed her travel box and a couple of old towels from the hall cupboard and dashed back out, fastening the top door lock and forgetting the rest. It was agonising, getting her into the box, but I managed, sending up prayers in all religions that I wasn’t damaging her any further. Carless, I had to walk up to the vet’s, about half a mile away, and I started up the hill, trying to hold Tammy’s box steady.

  The Vanquish was parked on the street, a risky thing to do even in a village like this. I briefly contemplated getting in and driving, but then I remembered that it had an F1-style gearbox and I’d never fathom it out in time. Walking would be quicker.

  I was halfway up the hill, nearly onto the main road, when I became half aware of a car bleeping and flashing me. A silver Vectra pulled to a halt in front of me, and Luke got out.

  Great. You know, I thought that day in Ireland was bad. Now I felt like the Day From Hell was actually a free pass to a luxurious spa.

  I ignored Luke and walked on past.

  “Sophie? Don’t bloody ignore me.”

  “I don’t have time,” I said, and Tammy cried helplessly at me, breaking my heart.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Vet,” I said. “She’s hurt.”

  He grabbed me and swung me round to face him, and I cried out, because Tammy was being shaken all over her box. Poor, poor baby. She must think I hate her.

  “Let go of me,” I sobbed, crying really hard.

  “Get in the car.”

  “No,” I tried to break free. He was holding up traffic and people were starting to bleep. “Go away.”

  “Get in the car, I’ll drive you there. It’ll be quicker.”

  I agonised about it for a second or two, then got in the car, settling Tammy’s box on my lap. She was bleeding all over, soaking through the towels onto my clothes and my skin. She kept mewing, so frightened and hurt, and I kept crying, and Luke had to haul me out of the car when we got to the vet’s, because I’d been so busy promising Tammy she wouldn’t die that I hadn’t even noticed where we were.

  “I need help,” I said to the whole waiting room, people with dogs and hamsters and rabbits in boxes, and the receptionist called something through, and a woman in a white coat came out, and Luke followed me into a consulting room, and listened to me bleat about the car hitting her, and all the while the vet was looking Tammy over with a doubtful look on her face.

  “We can operate on her,” she said, “but I must warn you it will be very, very expensive. Do you have insurance?”

  “No,” I hiccupped. “I’ll find the money.”

  “I’ll lend you—” Luke began, and I held up an arm to silence him, accidentally hitting him on the chin.

  “No. I’ll manage.”

  “I also have to tell you it might not be totally successful. It may be kinder to put her to sleep.”

  I stared at her. Who was this woman and who put her in charge of my baby? “No,” I cried, “not that, don’t even say that. Help her, she’s healthy and really, really strong. She’s my baby,” I sobbed, totally hysterical now, and Luke tried to put his arms around me but I fought him off.

  “We’ll do what we can,” the vet said, and we were politely evicted from the room. I gave the receptionist all my phone numbers, the office number and my parents’, too, ignoring Luke’s furious look, and stumbled out into the daylight.

  “Sophie,” Luke began, and I shook my head.

  “Please go away.”

  “What?”

  “Thank you for the lift,” I sniffed, “but please go away.”

  He stood still for a few seconds, then I heard the car door slam, the engine kick over, and he was gone.

  I sat down on the pavement, scrolled through my mental Buffy catalogue, and brought up an image of Spike being sarcastic. Then I mentally removed his shirt. Then I felt a bit better.

  I walked home, gathering strange looks, and saw the Vanquish squatting there on the pavement, looking sexy.

  I felt for the keys in my pocket. I needed something strong to distract my mind, and as sex with Luke seemed a remote possibility, the car would have to do.

  Besides, and this was high praise indeed, there was a possibility that driving the Aston Martin Vanquish might actually be better than sex.

  Not sex with Luke, you understand. I wasn’t mad. But still, you know, on an average scale. It could be better. It had already contributed once. It might actually be so sexy I’d be unable to drive it. But in the interests of science, I figured I ought to find out.

  First things first, though. One must research. I went and got my Top Gear magazines and read up on the gearbox. Complicated. But after the weekend I’d had, I could do anything. If the damn box pissed me off, I’d rip it out.

  I got in the car, put the key in, and turned it. Quiet. A little too quiet. Then lights came on and things started making noises. The gear display said I was in first, so I put my foot on the brake and pulled both the gear paddles to put it into neutral. So far so good.

  You know, I’ve never even driven an automatic before. I drove my driving school car, and then Mum’s little car, and then Ted.

  Poor Ted. Where the hell was he?

  While I tried to remember what to do next, I called the police station to report my missing car. They were faintly amazed when I told them it had disappeared from under my eyes, but I told them about Tammy and my voice wobbled and they shut up and told me they’d do what they could. I.e., nothing.

  I turned my attention back to the car. I should have written this down.

  Oh, yes. Starter button. All big and red and shiny. All the best things are. I licked my lips, and pressed it.

  There was a huge, magnificent roar, and I shuddered happily. I was feeling better already. I pulled the right paddle to put me into first, checked my mirrors and found the traffic was actually waiting for me. Smiling now, I put my foot on the throttle and shivered with pleasure again. Then I reached for the handbrake, remembered it was on the door side of the seat, and dropped it, and we were off, up the hill so fast I nearly hit the
oncoming traffic.

  My God, it was fast. But at the same time, it hardly felt fast. It felt natural. I knew I was doing about fifty through the village, and I didn’t care. I flew by a policeman, and do you know what he did?

  He waved.

  I was halfway to Angel’s house when I remembered that the hospital was in the other direction. So I took a drive around some of the residential streets, getting the feel of the car, hoping to God I wouldn’t stall, falling in love every time I heard it growl or felt it pulse.

  I was a little nervous about leaving it outside the hospital at Harlow, and kept looking out of the window to check it was still there. But pretty soon I was out of visual range, and I harassed the nurses into telling me where Harvey was, double quick, so I could get back to the car. Sod Luke. I was in love, the real thing, hearts and stars and all.

  Harvey had lost his neck brace and was lounging with his little girl friends, watching Tweenies on TV. Two of them were doodling on his full arm cast.

  “Is there space for me?” I asked, and Harvey looked up and gave me his full-watt, all-American toothpastey smile. Then he clocked my outfit, and his face fell. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

  I looked myself over. I was still all bloody. “I’m fine.”

  “But you’re—”

  “Not my blood,” I said. “I’m okay.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  “I got held up,” I said, and it sounded easy. “You ready to go?”

  “I surely am.” He kissed the little girls goodbye and promised to write to them.

  “Paedophile,” I said as we left.

  “Aw, come on, they’re sweet kids.”

  “Sorry. Bad day.”

  “It’s only one o’clock.”

  “Yeah? Well, my bad day started on Friday.”

  Harvey backed off—well, as much as you can back off with a crutch. “Oh-kay.”

  We went out to the car park and he looked around for Ted.

  “Did you take him in for repairs?”

  “No. I just had a slight change of plan.” I led him over to the Vanquish, and couldn’t help a smile. “How cool is this?”

  He stared. “My God. You are James Bond, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. You should see me in black tie.”

  There wasn’t much room to store his crutch, and we had to collapse it. Harvey winced as he pulled his broken ankle inside, but seemed to forget the pain as he looked around.

  “This thing is awesome!”

  “Yep.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Commandeered it.”

  “From…?”

  “Docherty. He tried to kill me. So I shot him and put him in the lab lockup.”

  Harvey looked mildly frightened, a state which was heightened when he heard the rumble of the engine.

  “Are you sure you can handle this?” he asked, and I gave him a look that has been making my parents back down to me for years. I was not to be messed with.

  “So when did you realise the guy who was watching Angel is evil?”

  “Yesterday morning when he blew up the house I was staying in with an Irish professor and his daughter.”

  “Are they okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “Is—is Angel okay?”

  “She’s fine. She’s somewhere safe.” I’d got a text from her when she arrived, but I hadn’t read it at the time, being otherwise occupied with Luke. I’d also had several missed calls on my phone from the Ace call centre, telling me that Docherty had booked, and then taken, a flight from Kerry to Stansted last night. But I hadn’t listened. Stupid Luke had me deaf and blind to everything that wasn’t him.

  “Uh, Sophie?”

  I let Harvey drag me back to the here-and-now. “Yeah?”

  “What’s the speed limit around here?”

  “I dunno. Thirty? Forty?”

  “Okay. It’s just you’re going about sixty-five.”

  Oops. I tend to drive slightly too fast when I’m angry. That’s how I failed my second test.

  Bloody Luke.

  Harvey was watching me with concern. “So,” he said cautiously, “apart from nearly getting blown up, how was Ireland?”

  “I didn’t tell you I went to Ireland.”

  “Angel did.” Harvey looked like he might be blushing. “She, uh, came to see me once or twice.”

  “Something going on with you two?”

  He shrugged, but I could tell the nonchalance was feigned.

  “Just don’t fuck her over, okay?” I said.

  “What makes you think I’d do that?”

  “I don’t know. Seems like a guy thing to do.” I ruthlessly cut up a white van. “Meet a girl, sweet-talk her into bed,” I put my foot down a little, “spoil her for all other men,” I swung across two lanes, “trick her into thinking you love her, then sleep with her and dump her. And make it look like her fault.”

  I got onto a bit of dual carriageway and floored the throttle. And found myself in the middle of next week.

  “Am I guessing you’ve been having a rough time with Luke?” Harvey asked gingerly.

  “He’s a bastard fuckwit and the next time I see him, I’m putting him under the wheels of this car,” I said, and then I remembered Tammy, and my eyes blurred, and I had to pull over.

  “Sophie, are you sure you’re all right?”

  “No,” I yelled, thumping the steering wheel. “I’m not bloody all right. Luke has no feelings for me, Docherty rejected me then tried to kill me, there is blood all over my floor from where I shot him and someone stole my car and ran over my cat.”

  Harvey nodded slowly. “Right. That is a bad weekend.” He paused. “Is your cat okay?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. They said it was touch-and-go.”

  “They’ve said that about me before. Are you still going away today?”

  Bollocks. “Yes. I have to go. It’s important.”

  “Okay. Well, maybe me and the cat can recover together. We can eat grapes and watch bad daytime TV.”

  “You know grapes are really bad for cats?”

  “Okay, I’ll eat the grapes, she can watch the TV.”

  “Anything but MTV. It’s too loud for her. She has sensitive ears,” I said, and managed a smile.

  “Okay,” Harvey said gently. He reached over and touched my hand. “And you’re right, you know. If Luke has no feelings for you, then he deserves to go under the wheels of the car.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “I never liked him anyway.”

  “He thought I’d left him for you.”

  Harvey looked at me sharply. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “No. He’s just jealous.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Me too.” A god like Luke, getting jealous over me? You see, that’s why I get so confused. Bloody Luke. I don’t need him right now.

  Right, that’s it. I’m just not going to think about him.

  Ha!

  I started the car up again and we set off once more. I showed Beckingham Palace to Harvey, who was very polite but didn’t seem to know what I was talking about, but he did point out that we were driving on a road called Bonks Hill, which cheered me up a lot more.

  By the time we got home, I was nearly smiling.

  “This is a hell of a car,” Harvey said as I helped him out.

  “Yeah,” I said, looking over it, “it really is.” But not quite as good as the real thing. If you know what I mean.

  I settled him in and explained about the locks and told him that I usually screen all my calls because I’m far too lazy to answer the phone, so he could do the same. Then I went to pack a bag for Cornwall. Angel had said she’d added me and Luke and Macbeth to the guest list, and that the party was so high-security that everyone attending had been sent a pass, like the ones we had at the airport, to be scanned on the door. Ours would be available when we turned up.

  “Exactly
how posh is this thing?” I called her to ask. “Can I get away with Monsoon or do I need to nick something again?”

  “Nick something?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Well, borrow without permission. You remember my friend Ella, her boss has a whole wardrobe of tasteless designer things…”

  “Oh. Yes. Well, you can if you like, but I’m sure I told you it’s a costume party?”

  I stared at my wardrobe. God, she had, and I’d completely forgotten. “Right. Right. Is there a theme?”

  “Not really. Just make sure it’s a proper costume, no putting some hay in your pocket and saying you’re the Last Straw or anything.”

  Dammit. “No. Okay. I’ll see you later. I’m setting off in a bit.”

  Which was a complete lie, because I had to find something to wear first. I looked through my wardrobe and nothing presented itself immediately, so I made a snap decision and took the Vanquish off into town for some last-minute shopping. I always feel more inspired when I’ve been shopping. Plus, I needed a new watch. I was tired of it always being three-fifteen.

  The idea came to me as I was parking up. I spotted a black Defender in the car park, all decked out with Halogen lights and stuff like the one in Tomb Raider, and I knew what I could do. I raced round the shops and eventually found what I was looking for: a green leotard. I already had khaki shorts and Doc Martens, so all I needed was a little rucksack and some brown hair dye. Sorted. My hairdresser would kill me, but I was sorted.

  Harvey was very impressed when I came out in my outfit, and I was pretty cheered up, too. The leotard made my boobs look bigger (as if they needed it) which made my waist look smaller, and my legs weren’t looking too bad after a bit of fake tan had been thrown in their direction. I even had thigh holsters to put my guns in, and they were real guns, too.

  I called Karen to see if she’d got anything from Docherty, and she said that he’d been sullen and uncommunicative all morning. He’d asked for me, but I wasn’t likely to go in. I’d let him cool down first.

  I called the hospital in Tralee again, but there was no news on either of the Kennedys. I got the Interflora number from the phone book and arranged to have some flowers sent over. Then I turned and looked at Harvey, who was watching Kilroy with an expression of disbelief.