by Natasha West
‘Jesus, Barry,’ April said to his back. ‘You couldn’t have found a less ironic town name?’
‘Don’t worry about that. This town is perfect in every regard. It’s a big town, big enough to get lost in, a hundred thousand people and it has everything you could need. Best of all, it’s not a city.’ He glanced over his shoulder at Sophie. ‘Major cities don’t work for witness protection. Organised crime tends to have connections in all the major cities. Towns are better.’
‘Right,’ Sophie nodded, not very interested.
Ten minutes later, they pulled into a new-build estate; every house looked less than ten years old, identical boxes set around a large communal lawn. It was flavourless but tidy. ‘Right, here we are,’ Barry said, driving into a space in front of a small house, number twenty-eight, Grant Street.
April got out of the car and looked at her new home. She’d had better; she’d had worse. The better had been the flat Sophie had found her when they met. The worse had been everywhere else. Dingy council estates mostly. A characterless new build was a step up. She was relieved.
She looked at Sophie to see how she was taking her new home. But she was shaking her head. ‘Oh, god, new build. Get ready for nothing to work,’ she muttered to April bitterly.
April shot her a look. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Builders knock these things up as quick as they can, and they forget to finish anything. Fittings and fixtures, utilities, all sorts. I had a tenant in a new build who called in to tell me her boiler was making a funny noise. I get someone out quick – rule one of renting, can’t fuck around with boilers - and the guy tells me the whole thing was ready to blow up and kill everyone. Wasn’t put in right.’
April went to respond, but Barry was out of the car, keys in hand, saying, ‘Can we get in the door before you decide it’s a death-trap?’
Sophie rolled her eyes and followed him. April understood what she was doing. She was in freefall, and she was relying on things she knew to get her through it, even negative things. April could understand. She just hoped Sophie wouldn’t make this harder for herself than it had to be.
In the house, everything was as expected. Laminate floors, beige walls, standard. Sophie ran a finger along a light switch in the living room and held up dust on her fingertip. ‘Christ, when was this place last cleaned?’ No one answered her, and she disappeared down the hall. A moment later, she yelled, ‘Well, isn’t this classic. They put the bloody bathroom lock in backwards!’ She walked back in and began to pace the living room, inspecting a large window. ‘That window frame is a joke. One good kick, it would pop right out of the wall.’
Barry gritted his teeth. ‘Look, Sophie, we had twelve hours to put something together for you two, so a bit of dust is not the end of the world, is it? Not compared to a bullet in the back of the head, at any rate.’
‘Barry!’ April shouted.
But it was too late. Sophie was agog. ‘A bullet in the back of the head,’ she whispered, horrified. ‘You never said anything about that before.’
Barry raised an eyebrow. ‘What exactly do you think the Gardeners will do if they catch you? Tickle you to death?’
‘Right, Barry, I think that’s enough,’ April told him. ‘Go and get a coffee.’
Barry looked at April. ‘You want me to leave?’
‘Come back when everyone has calmed down a bit,’ April told him. Barry was gruff; it took some getting used to.
Barry blew out a pissed off breath. ‘Fine. But we’ve got things to talk about, so sit tight. I’ll be back.’
Once Barry had gone, April took a step toward Sophie. ‘I’m sorry about him. His bedside manner is non-existent, but he’s very good at his job. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know what-’
‘I can’t stay here,’ Sophie interrupted.
April frowned. ‘Because the bathroom door doesn’t lock right? We’ll just have to remember to knock before we-’
‘Because it’s not my home,’ Sophie interrupted.
‘But you can’t go home,’ April said.
‘I can, actually.’
‘But you know that’s a bad idea, surely,’ April said carefully. She was pretty sure Sophie was having a meltdown. She’d had her own version four years ago, talked about going home and saying sorry to her mum and hoping for the best. Luckily, Barry had been there to repeatedly tell her what a stupid idea that was. But his store of patience seemed to have been used up now. So it was April’s job to calm Sophie down if she could. ‘They’ll know everything by now. It’s how they work. They’ll know about what went down with Kenny, that you and me were…’ She didn’t know how to end that sentence, so she left it as it was.
‘That was two years ago,’ Sophie countered.
‘That’s not what you said when you were chasing me around that carpark,’ April reminded her.
Sophie blushed. ‘I just wanted answers. That’s all.’ She paused. ‘I guess I got them in abundance.’
April was contrite. ‘This is a crazy time, I get that-’
‘No, you don’t,’ Sophie said angrily. ‘What happened to you is not what happened to me. Stop acting like you understand everything I’m going through.’
April paused. ‘You’re angry with me.’
Sophie went to speak and then stopped. Eventually, she said, ‘No. I’m not. I’m angry with the situation.’
‘You sure about that?’ April pressed. ‘Because I can see how you might be.’
‘I’m not,’ Sophie said, her voice quieter. ‘I know this isn’t your fault. The only people to blame are your family.’
April shrugged. ‘If you say so.’ She looked around the living room. ‘Shall we look at the rest of the house?’
Sophie sighed. ‘Fine. But if I see black mould, I’m gonna kick off.’
April was somewhat relieved. Sophie still felt like something of a flight risk, but for now, she was going to stay. April didn’t know what the hell would happen next. She’d never dreamt that she and Sophie would end up as flatmates in the programme. She just hoped the past wouldn’t make things complicated. More complicated than two former lovers having to be relocated to avoid being murdered by one of their families.
Eleven
The house wasn’t really that bad. Sophie just felt like she needed to complain about something, and the house was the safest topic available. But it was fine. Decent sized bedrooms, open plan kitchen/living room/diner, comfy furniture, a little garden around the back. But it wasn’t her home, with all its knickknacks, magnets on the fridge, crap in the attic she should have thrown out years ago. These were the things that made a place yours.
Sophie was still seriously wondering if she could just leave, go home, pretend none of this had happened and hope for the best. Though she really hadn’t liked that bullet thing that wanker copper Barry had said. It had made her feel like she might go to the toilet there and then. Not necessarily a number one either.
And then she was being shitty to April. She had to stop that. This wasn’t her fault; it really wasn’t. Mostly. They were essentially in the same dreadful boat, and Sophie had to stop wanting to take it out on her, or things around the house were going to get rather difficult. She decided to get ahold of herself and get on with things for the time being.
When they checked the bedrooms, Sophie was surprised to find the wardrobes contained clothes with the tags still on them. ‘Whose clothes are these?’ she asked April.
‘Yours. Until they can get some of your stuff,’ April told her.
‘They’ll bring my clothes?’
‘Eventually. But the house should have enough stuff in it to keep us going for the moment.’
Sophie nodded, glad of at least one comforting fact.
The front door banged open. The dreaded Barry was back. They went down to meet him.
‘Who’s for croissants?’ he asked, holding coffees and a bag of pastries.
‘I’m starving, actually,’ Sophie said. Barry handed her a croissant and a co
ffee cup. Sophie sat down on the sofa and began to munch despondently. Barry sat down with his own coffee, black, April remembered. He couldn’t handle milk, made him belch. April sat down beside Sophie, and all that could be heard for a few minutes was chewing and the sound of people brushing crumbs off themselves. It was a tense breakfast.
When it was done, Barry undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. ‘Right, is everyone feeling a bit calmer now?’
Sophie nodded and sipped coffee, determined not to act out this time. It would get her nowhere. She was gonna listen to what this dildo had to say and take it from there.
‘OK, so, you guys are paid up for the month, but as April may have mentioned, we do expect you to have jobs and pay your bills after the transitional period.’
‘How do I find a job without my real name or references?’ Sophie asked.
‘We sort you out with jobs.’ He took two folders from his briefcase and handed them over. ‘Here’s your new names, credentials, backstories. Memorise them,’ he told the pair.
‘I know the drill,’ April said, opening her folder.
Sophie opened her own folder with trepidation. Her new name contained within, Sophie Brown. Great, her name sucked.
But April apparently had it worse. ‘Woah, wait,’ April suddenly cried. ‘I can’t keep my first name anymore?’
Barry shook his head. ‘No, that tweet didn’t go completely viral, only a couple of thousand shares. But I don’t like it. I don’t want anyone to look at you and hear your name and make the link. Which reminds me, you’ve got to change your hair, colour and cut.’
‘Oh no!’ Sophie cried without thinking. April and Barry looked at her. ‘It’s just a faff,’ she tried to explain away. But in truth, she’d been just a little bit horrified. April’s hair was a thing of beauty. It was the mane of a healthy sable horse, and at one time, Sophie had wanted to live in it. Crazy it could matter now, here, under the present situation. But somehow it had. ‘So what’s your new name?’ she asked April, trying to distract.
April sighed through her nose. ‘Melanie Cox.’
‘Cocks?’ Sophie said with a hard K.
‘No, with an X,’ April said, peeved.
‘Oh, OK,’ Sophie said, trying not to laugh. It was the first time she’d wanted to in a while. ‘No, it’s nice.’
April raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s terrible.’
‘Well, I’m Sophie Brown. Sophie Shit-Colour.’
‘If you wanna swap, I’m happy,’ April told her with a snigger.
‘I think I’m alright,’ Sophie told her with a light smile and a shrug.
‘No one’s swapping anything. We’ve had IDs made up,’ Barry said harshly.
Sophie rolled her eyes. He couldn’t let them have a light moment, the dour bastard.
‘Did you say something about jobs?’ April asked him.
‘Yes. But don’t worry about that yet, there are cash cards in your packs with a per diem. Just settle in.’
Sophie suddenly remembered that April had been working in a supermarket when she’d caught up to her. It was only then that she realised that her employment prospects had just nosedived. It would be the jobs with a fast turnover that would take people like her and April. Sophie had never really liked her old job, renting houses. But maybe things could get worse. A lot worse. What would Barry get them? She had a feeling he wasn’t going to take their skills and personal qualities into account. He’d just get them whatever, wouldn’t he?
But that was a concern for another day. Right now, she couldn’t think beyond anything but the moment she was in. Anything else was overwhelming.
‘So, I’ll leave you girls to settle in. April, you’re an old hand by now, so I’m sure you can answer any questions Sophie has, yeah?’
April nodded. ‘I’m sure I can.’
Barry stood, gave them a small nod, and buggered off. April and Sophie were left alone in the beige living room. Sophie felt like she wasn’t really sure what to say now. Too much had happened, way too fast. She didn’t know where she was, who she was, who April was, where her life might go. Every freedom she’d taken for granted her whole life, every choice she could make or not make as she saw fit, it was all gone. She felt like a puppet, her strings yanked by people she’d never even know.
She stood suddenly. ‘I think I need to sit down.’
‘You were sitting. You’ve stood up,’ April told her.
Sophie looked down at the ground. April was right. It had definitely been closer a second ago. And then it rushed towards her.
‘Sophie!’ she heard from a distance, and then the voice seemed to zoom in. ‘Sophie, my god!’
Sophie opened her eyes to find herself flat out on the laminate flooring, her head cradled by April. She smiled up at her, feeling weird. ‘I really think you shouldn’t change your hair,’ she said. And passed out again.
Twelve
April ran back into the flat with a pharmacy bag to find Sophie as she’d left her ten minutes ago. On the floor. She got the smelling salts out of the bag and wafted it under Sophie’s nose. Her eyes shot open. ‘That’s disgusting!’ she said immediately.
April blew out her relief. ‘Are you OK?’
Sophie blinked a few times and said, ‘I don’t know, am I?’
‘You fainted,’ April told her. ‘Do you remember where you are?’
‘I’m not simple,’ Sophie told her. ‘We’re in some horrible town called Forlorn.’
April couldn’t help but smile. ‘Just checking you didn’t concuss yourself when you went down.’
‘I fainted?’ Sophie began to pull herself up, looking sheepish. ‘Bloody hell, that’s embarrassing.’
‘No, it’s not. You’ve been under stress. The shock of all this…’
‘Did you faint when it all happened to you?’ Sophie asked, levering herself onto the sofa. April let her do it without help. She didn’t want Sophie to feel like she was being touched too much. ‘No, but like you said, we didn’t go through the same thing,’ she told Sophie. ‘I chose this rather than stay at home. This all just kind of happened to you out of the blue.’
They sat in silence while Sophie got herself back together. ‘How the fuck did you do this by yourself?’ she asked eventually.
‘I didn’t have a choice,’ April told her.
‘But I do, don’t I? I mean, this isn’t mandatory, Barry said. I can leave, go back home, let myself into my flat, go to work tomorrow, be normal. I could, couldn’t I?’
April bit her cheek. ‘Yeah, you could. But you shouldn’t.’
‘Because your family will kill me?’ Sophie asked anxiously.
‘It’s possible. They’re bad people, Soph,’ April said and then realised she’d been more familiar than she meant to.
Sophie didn’t acknowledge it, though. She just shook her head. ‘I can’t leave here, can I?’
April sat down next to her on the sofa. ‘I don’t think you can.’ Sophie looked broken, and April took a chance. She slipped an arm around her. Sophie didn’t tense up, didn’t shake the arm off. She leaned into it, just a little bit. Her head slid onto April’s shoulder. April held her a bit tighter. They stayed like that for some minutes.
And then, as though it had never happened, Sophie suddenly got up. ‘I’m tired. I’m going to bed.’ She practically ran from the room.
April sat alone after she’d gone, feeling flummoxed. Today had been terrible. But the hug had been nice. And then over. That wasn’t important stuff; she wasn’t trying to get back into Sophie’s good graces, win her back under these absurd circumstances. No matter how great she looked and how very good it was to see her again. All that mattered now was starting again, helping Sophie to do the same. She’d taken the shot before and look where it had ended up? Sophie would not likely ever go there again, and that was fair enough. Getting involved with April came at too high of a cost. She was bad luck. Sophie had to know that by now.
Thirteen
Sophie slept deepl
y, well into the afternoon. When she woke, she looked at her watch to see it was two o’clock. She wondered what things happened in Forlorn at two in the afternoon. Probably nothing she wanted to know about.
She went out into the living room, but April wasn’t there. It was disconcerting. It wasn’t as if she’d have anywhere to be. For Sophie, it was like going out and finding your baby wasn’t in the crib. They should be there. They just should.
She wondered if she should call Barry. He’d left her a burner phone with his number programmed in for such occasions. She was dithering about ringing him when the front door opened. April walked in with a shopping bag. ‘Oh, you’re awake.’