A Little Rain

by Dee Winter

  First I count down a few seconds slowly. Ten, nine, eight, seven. Six, five, four. Three, two, one. Zero. I hear shuffling noises towards the end of the alley. I’m blocked in. I draw back against the dark wall. A jolt of adrenalin turns the shoot into a little tree inside me. I shake a little as I hide. I wait a little longer. Thankfully the noise passes. There’s still a tiny subatomic particle somewhere in me that dares to hope His Royal Highness will come to find me. Though the only reason I want him back now is so that I’m not alone, and safe.

  Now the alley is quiet, I’m still full of fear. I’m not soft, but this is dangerous. The twisted side of me maybe even wants something bad to happen, not too bad. But how awful would it make Benny feel. How bad! I realise standing still is not doing much for my soul right now. Doing nothing is never good for the soul. My brain signals for my feet to start moving and I begin the same slow crunching steps that Benny started what must be at least five minutes ago, except I can hear my steps are slower.

  As I turn the corner the familiar lights and buildings face me. I don’t know exactly where I am but I don’t feel lost. I never feel lost in London. I check the time and it’s just past 2:00am. I think the bar where we were should still be open or people will be leaving now. If I go there, I may have half a chance of getting a genuine cab, not just some chancer in a dented saloon riddled with rust and body odour, that to my own admission, I have been in the past all too familiar with. But I may have a problem. I look in my wallet. I have less than five pounds left, just coins.

  As I approach the bright lights and bustle outside the club it doesn’t feel right. I still feel scared, panic rising. The skinny sapling is now a mighty oak. It’s hard to breathe. I’ve never gone alone into a club before, in all the times I have been clubbing, not even to a bar. Even if I’ve started out alone, I’ve always met someone first or waited round the corner or at a bus stop smoking until I know I’m so late whoever I’m meeting will be there. This is new. I’m scared but obviously I try not to show it. I think familiarity may be the key so I look for Lee. I see him there still with the other doormen who all now look brutal. One I see is toying with an extendable kosh in his pocket. The other has a big c-shaped scar, visible from here, on his cheek. I look from a distance at Lee. He has the look of violence too, only his expression seems a little softer, like maybe he would talk to you first before beating the crap out of you.

  My courage finds me and I start to approach, although I’m not drunk at all my steps feel a little unsteady. I’m barely ten feet away when he clocks me. “Hey Missy. Where’s your boyfriend? You found him yet?” He near shouts but I hold my nerve still, even if I am a little unsettled by him as a whole.

  “Yeah,” I say nervously, trying to steady my voice. “The prick’s gone and left me… I was hoping I could maybe get a cab from here.” Lee smiles then stops and turns his attention to a group of drunk singing ladies that have practically fallen out of the door behind him. I stand still. A little unsure exactly of what I’m supposed to do, still scared and still daring to hope that Benny and Tobes and Demi might be a part of that crowd that have now momentarily gathered outside but are now dispersing. My eyes dart from face to face expectantly, all the while I’m painfully aware of standing alone.

  I stand shivering and move my eyes down to my burger-splattered boots. Then I’m aware as someone draws up too close and fast right in front of me. To hide my surprise and intimidation, I look up slowly to meet his eye. I stare at him solidly. His icy eyes stare back.

  “So, are you still looking for a lift?” he says. His tone is more arrogant than I remember. “I’m finished now. I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Nah. I’m south London. It’ll be out of your way,” I say. I’m unsure of what he’ll say next. His answer worries me.

  “It’s not out the way. I’m south London too. I’ll take you no probs.”

  Now it’s Catch 22. Dangerous Catch 22. I say okay and get in a car with a man I don’t know and possibly get taken home or he could take me anywhere. Then maybe equally dangerous, I get left here out in the night, alone, no money, no cab. My old theory is I could phone Rob, wake him, Ruby too. He’d be angry and would feel he had to come and get me. I think though if Ruby’s there he can hardly come out with her at this hour so maybe I should just get this lift for free. But nothing good is ever free. Damn. If Lee gives me a lift he’ll want something in return and just an hour or so after fleetingly fancying him, he now repulses me.

  Now he’s been waiting for an answer for a while. All the time, he’s been standing right up close. So I say, “Ok, cool. That’d be cool, yeah,” as my brain is whirring wildly, lighting up all the big red danger signs in my mind. I blot them out. As he starts to walk away expecting me to follow, my inner voice says loudly you’ve gone this far… do something… be prepared... arm yourself. I think my poxy set of keys won’t be any help now so I scour the street. There’s nothing but cigarette butts and grime directly by my feet but as I look ahead in the direction we are walking a pile of rubbish becomes more apparent. Perfect. I see a brown beer bottle just ahead resting in the gutter. I duck and swipe it in a second and tuck it inside my coat, wedging it deep in my waistband. I look up to the stars. Thank you. Lee briefly turns to look but thankfully does not see what I have done. My heartbeat slows a little. It’s not too comfy walking with cold sticky glass poking at my hip and now that Lee has speeded up even less so. I adjust it carefully, unseen, as if it were to slip and fall and smash at this point it could spell disaster.

  I hear a fast loud bipp bipp that makes me look up. Amber lights flash a warning ahead. I see his big red car, flashy and low set with sparkling alloys. I almost feel like I’m not good enough to get inside. I don’t like it. My following steps falter a little. I hang back. That nagging non-stop voice saying it’s not too late to turn back keeps repeating over and over in my head, but I don’t listen.

  I follow him. He opens the passenger door. Standing by, waiting. Reluctant, I get in. He slams it. Inside the car it’s freezing. The leather below me chills me to my bones. I hold my mouth tight shut, biting my teeth together to stop them chattering. It may not only be the cold that’s making me shake. Maybe I’m more scared than I even know. He pulls the door open on the other side and swings into his seat. The whole car sinks under his weight. Seeing him now sitting, head, shoulders, legs, I realise just how big he is. As tall as Rob at least. His legs are solid with muscle. His whole body broad. The arm I can see is thick as a tree trunk. His black coat creaks awkwardly against the cream seat.

  He interrupts my silent thoughts by planting a firm kiss on my lips that tastes and smells of mint. His lips feel dry, like sandpaper. I’m in shock and disgusted too at his abruptness but instead, stupidly, I gauge the silly girly reaction of smiling coyly. I even hear myself giggle. This is not funny. Perhaps this was not the best reaction. I should have just got out the car and run as he then moves his whole body, shifting his titanic weight over on to me. His mouth pushes against my lips again. His hard poky tongue inside my little shocked mouth that is still chewing gum. He’s too heavy for me to be able to move at all so I feel I have no choice but to go along with this ridiculous charade.

  Then he stops, suddenly. “Right lets go to mine.” My plan was then to jump at the chance to make a quick getaway by swinging open my door and running for my life, but no time to. He clicks down all the locks with his elbow before moving his weight off me. He’s started the car and spins it round, way too quickly for me to even think about making a break for it. Out the door now would be suicide. Shit. Trust your instincts. Too late now...

  It’s not often I’m in a car with a stranger, a complete unknown. In fact, it’s never. This is the first time I’ve ever been in this situation and so dangerously out of control. His driving makes me think he’s a certified maniac. He even has the front to drive in a loop back to the club, rolling down the window, tooting his horn to the appreciative hollers of the people outside, his bouncer mates and a few strag
glers hanging on.

  “Where are we going?” I say quickly, trying to keep my voice deep and steady even while all my nerves inside me are totally freaking out, like I’m about to die. I sound about as sexy as a drain and hopefully like the hard-faced cow I now want to be. “I want to go home.”

  “We’re going back to mine. Like I said.” He says it with a frightening smile. I absolutely hate him now. As I look round the car I get the urge to stick a knife in the leather or burn it with a cigarette or put down dirty finger prints, cause as much damage as I can. At the same time thinking, clinging to the thought of my advantage, the bottle in my jeans that would look so good broken over his skull right now. Red blood trickling down his face. It frightens me what this fear could make me do. I am scared but ready to kill him if I have to. But not right now, not yet. Hold fire, wait.

  I sit in silence. Minutes pass by. No talking. I want out. I plan my escape. If only he could see my thought bubbles. I could make a break for it at the first set of traffic lights but in these quiet suburban streets, there now seem to be no lights at all. I could just attack him now, outright, but I don’t want to do that really. Last resort. I don’t want to end up getting picked out of a car wreck bit by piece. I will bide my time, sit tight.

  He’s humming now loudly, unnervingly, to some weird shouty rock music playing on CD. I want to tell him to shut up. The thought of smashing the bottle into his mouth crosses my mind. Force feed him some glass. I shudder at the thought. I stare at him hard until he looks back at me. “I don’t feel good.” I don’t lie. “I want to go home.”

  “We are going home,” he says. “Back to mine.”

  “No. I want to go to back my house.” Back to Rob, I’m thinking. But it’s hopeless. He’s not listening. He’s not even worth talking too. I’m wasting breath. More minutes pass.

  Then he says, “We’re at mine now.”

  “I’m not getting out. I want to go home. I’m not…” he cuts me off.

  “We’re here.” he says jerking the car into a space outside a nasty looking block of flats. The whole road doesn’t look too clever. I can see the crispy shell of a burnt out car on the pavement up ahead under a streetlight. He gets out of the car and walks round to open my door. The opportunity to run is not there. The chance to escape does not come. He’s blocking my way and grips my hand tight before I’m even stood up out of the car, all my fingers squished. He’s not letting go. It actually hurts but I’m not about to struggle. I’ve made up my mind now what I’m going to do. My other hand is free.

  As we get closer to the block I know I don’t have long. I reach for it. My free hand touches the cold glass. My fingers close around its neck with determined force. I hurl the bottle over-arm at the nearest house window. An almighty crash resonates into an explosion of shattering splinters. Distracted, his head turns to look away from me, towards the noise. His grip loosens slightly. I waste no time. I step onto my left foot and boot him hard with my right. My sole’s edge smashes deep into his shin. Glass-breaking noises closely followed by his guttural yell. There is no time. I feel like I move in slow motion.

  Stop the clock.

  In less than second I have turned on my heel. My feet hitting the ground. I just run, faster than I ever have before. My muscles burn with pain as I sprint faster still. I do not look back. I cannot hear him behind. I cannot hear anything as my ears roar with adrenalin chasing blood. I turn the corner so fast I slip and fall. I pick myself up, grazed hands, wet knees and run on. The first alley I see I take and run on still. Headlights rise behind me. Face the danger, no, flee the lights. I take the next darker alley. I get a good hundred yards further and my lungs sear with pain. I have to stop and breathe. I almost choke on air. I spit on the ground. My heart is racing. I hear non-stop bass drum beats loud in my ears. I fall forward and gasp. I feel my hands graze more. I breathe so deep, so hard I might be sick, collapse. I need get it together, think what to do next. I slide down the railway fence and on to the wet and dirty floor.

  Only as the damp starts to seep through my jeans, and I cannot hear my breathing anymore, I start to sum up. Benny’s left me, broke me, again, but I don’t or do I really care. Then Lee. But my soul was saved. Thank you, God.

  Tobes, Demi. Well. Etienne in the meantime I see has called me again when I pull out my phone from my pocket. Now is not the time to call him back.

  There is only one person I can call.

  “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you...” and Ruby, I was about to say but the babble of pubfolk voices I hear talking and the background music playing tells me he is not at home, “You’re not at home?” I say.

  “No. Why? What’s up?”

  “Look, sorry, but I need you to come get me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I don’t know. I got stuck.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know where I am.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know where you are?” He says and I go on to tell him the partial truth. How I rowed with Benny and that my friends left me. How I had to escape from a dodgy cab. My voice trembles but I will not cry. Men like these will never make me cry. Rob listens like a cop. He tells me walk to the nearest street sign, tell him what it says and wait on the nearest wall. So I sit quietly, cold, and damp. My nose feels shiny and numb, battered by the cold night air. I think long and hard about my lucky escape, my own stupidity. What a fool I am. This is a warning. A message not to be so dumb again. Ever.

  I sit sore and shivering in eerie near silence. I can hear the distant rush of unseen cars. It’s a long and painful, fear-filled twenty minutes before I start to hear the familiar rumble of a car I know well. As it pulls closer, white headlights make the drizzle sparkle. I’ve never been so pleased to see it. I run over, nearly smiling. “Your boyfriend and your friends left you?” Rob says, pushing open the door for me. I slump straight into the front seat. I’m shivering but the car feels heated. I inhale deeply, warm leather and the faint smell of beer. Rob is staring at me with his mouth slightly open. He places a gentle palm on my juddering shoulder, shaking his head.

  “Yeah. I can’t believe it,” is all I can say as my heart starts beating fast again, reliving its fear. It hasn’t quite died on me yet but I feel utterly exhausted. I breathe in slowly, deeply, counting. I then feel a bit more composed.

  “Well it was more I left them. Me and Benny rowed big-style.” Rob pushes his bottom lip up towards his nose, but says nothing. “We’re over. He finished with me.” He blinks and turns his head.

  “You let that sorry shit dump you?” I just nod, slowly.

  I don’t say anything for a time, still, just numb. “I was a bitch...” is all I can say.

  “Why didn’t you phone me? I would’ve told you to just get a cab, stop round the corner and do a runner. Or we could’ve thought of something...”

  “Yeah, actually...” I say and think really yes, I should’ve done. “But I didn’t. Did I? I thought you were at home. I thought you’d be asleep and Ruby would be too. I didn’t want to wake you both up. Anyway, I didn’t so too late now, eh? Anyway, what did happen? Why didn’t you see Ruby?” I say suddenly, as she dances like a sprite across my mind. “She’s not at home, obviously.”

  “No, I went out in the end.”

  “You went out? Why? What happened?”

  “Oh, nothing. She’s with her Nan.” It’s not what I was expecting to hear but instead of more grilling now, fresh tiredness tips itself all over me like mixer full of cement. I feel so heavy. I cannot even talk anymore. Or listen.

  It’s too hard now to tell if it’s night or morning. My eyes are oh-so nearly closed. I don’t care what time it is. I start to fall asleep in the car. I get the heady feeling of floating softly in and out of sleep. Every time I half open my eyes to see my brother, I have never felt so safe. When I open my eyes again we are parking up and I see the familiar sight of what I call home. Rob’s dingy flat in the street light looks almost beautiful from the outs
ide. Shimmering paint, milky in the glow. A faint, smudgy portrait of home. I can almost hear my bed calling out for me. My feet are aching, begging me now to take my shoes off. All my senses saying, girl you have got to stop, and rest. Trust me, I could fall asleep forever and then after.

  I try but can’t run to the front door. It is more like a shuffly stoopy stumble. I hear Rob locking the car as I’m opening the door. I snap on some lights and turn the heating up high. We’re in and I’m just so tired even Rob’s offer of a ready rolled joint isn’t enough to keep me up. All I can just about say is, “We can talk more tomorrow.” I click the bathroom door closed behind me and pee, head resting on hands between my knees. When I get to my room I collapse on my bed in a fully-clothed quivering heap, like my body has no bones.

  I wake up in pitch dark, hair smelling of stale smoke and my jeans are digging in me. In the quiet, I shed them like a dead skin onto the floor. Feeling cold, I quickly step out of bed to pull on tracksuit bottoms and a fleece, and then dive back under the covers. Then I think about getting up again to get water. The comfort of my bed is impossible to leave but my throat feels like I’ve swallowed a cup of sand. This keeps me awake. I leave the warmth reluctantly and feel the all-over chill again. In the hall shaking, I hear noise in the darkness. Rob is mumbling quietly in his room. I try and listen but the door is closed and he is talking in sharp whispers. “Yeah man, next week. Bit of a shocker, huh? Yeah... Think it’s definitely going to happen now... Yeah, afraid so.” I don’t listen any longer. I’m shaking. Too cold. I step in to the kitchen and can see the time blinking on the microwave. It’s 05:37. I am so going back to bed. I grab a glass and get water before rushing back to the warm cocoon of my waiting sanctuary. Water-soothed, I drift off again in no time, like I’m gently falling back, sinking into a deep warm sea.