by Paul Kane
If your mind had been on the job, Rachael, instead of other things ... she said to herself. I know, I know!
The question now was, what was she going to do about it? Well, there was no choice really, was there? Tilly’s words yesterday wafted through her brain: You know you’re like family to me, young Rachael. Always worrying, always there when I need you.
She’d have to make the trek to drop them off, that’s all. Rachael thought about the time again. If she was going to go, she’d have to leave soon—but there would be no way she’d beat the dark on the way back. That place was bad enough when it was light.
Tilly has to live there all the time, she reminded herself. What’s worse, facing that or letting Tilly down? Christ, what if something happened to her trying to get to bed? How would you ever live with yourself then? All because of your stupid useless memory, Rachael!
She reached into the cupboard again and found the aspirins, taking two and hoping they killed the bongos playing in her head. A quick shower and get changed, that was the next step ...
What was that she’d just been saying to her mother? I’m fine. But all she could hear now were her mum’s words: The city’s not safe.
The city’s not safe.
* * *
As she left her block of flats, he was out there waiting for her. The last person in the world she wanted to see today.
Rachael crossed the road to avoid him, but it was obvious he’d been waiting there some time and wasn’t about to give up that easily.
“Rachael,” Mike called out. “Rachael, wait!”
She ignored him.
“Rachael, just hold on a second.” Mike ran after her, grabbing her by the arm.
“Take your hands off me,” she told him, spinning round. A couple walking past looked in their direction. Mike held his palms up and backed off a couple of paces.
“I was just trying to get you to listen.”
“Like last night? Is that your answer to everything?”
Mike looked down. “I’m sorry.” And he genuinely meant it, she could see that; for just a moment, she saw the old Mike in there again, the one she’d spent so many happy hours with. “I didn’t intend to cause a scene last night, I just wanted to talk to you, y’know? Then when I saw you laughing with ...”
“Will,” she said. “His name was Will.”
“I just lost it ... It’s only because I still care about you, Rachael.”
“You don’t go around kissing other women if you care about someone,” she snapped. “And now you know how it feels.”
Mike frowned. “Is that why you were doing it, to get back at me?”
“I didn’t even know you were going to be there!”
“Right, yeah. I’m sorry. But you went out ...”
“What, so I’ve got to stay indoors now just because we’ve split—become a nun, is that it?”
“Of course not, it’s just—”
“Look.” She glanced at her watch, seeing the time all too clearly now. “I’m not having the best of days, again. I’m hungover, I’ve just had words with my mum, and now I’ve got to go halfway across the city on the bus to deliver a prescription.”
Mike scratched his head. “A prescription?”
“Yes!” she shouted, then immediately regretted it—her head was still pounding. “Tilly Brindle’s—the old lady on my round I told you about, remember? On the Greenham Estate?”
“Why’ve you got to take it now?”
“Because I forgot before, because of what’s been going on with—” She shut up before any more words tumbled out.
“Because of you and me,” Mike finished for her. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry too. Now, Mike, I’ve really got to get going—I have to get to Handley Crescent and back before it gets dark.”
“You’ve no chance. Let me come with you.”
Rachael shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mike. Just go home, yeah? Go home.”
He looked for a second like he was going to say something else. Then he just nodded and turned away from her, as if he could tell there was no point in trying to change her mind. No point in trying to get her back. The trust was gone, it had been since the moment she’d seen him with another woman. Rachael watched him walk away for a moment, then turned.
It was time to go.
* * *
He could imagine what she’d be thinking.
There he goes, rejected—walking off with a sad puppy dog expression on his face because he knows it’s over, really over now.
She couldn’t be more wrong. Not about it being over, no—it was definitely that. About the sad look.
Mike was smiling: grinning from ear to ear, in fact.
The wait had been worth it. It had been a long shot thinking that she might forgive her ex-boyfriend, but he’d still walked away with more information—having played his part to perfection again. Now he knew exactly where she was heading, and it gave him the perfect opportunity.
Wasn’t wise to be out walking these streets at that hour, whatever the reason. And he aimed to take full advantage.
Because he was oh so hungry tonight.
CHAPTER SIX
True to form, the bus was spectacularly late.
Rachael had been waiting over half an hour before it trundled along to the stop. Even when they did get going, it took the long way round, cranking to a halt at every shelter between her home and her destination. Within a few miles of Handley Crescent, the sky was turning a deeper shade of blue.
It would be pitch black soon.
As she sat there, bored out of her brains and with the vibrating seat sending shockwaves up her body that she could well do without (not to mention the yapping of a small dog that one woman brought on board, which she was cradling in her arms like a baby), Rachael concentrated on writing another mental ‘to do’ list.
At number 1) she had NEVER DRINK AGAIN! in capitals, just to ram home the message. She never wanted to feel like this again. Number 2) was phone her mother tomorrow. In space 3) she wrote ‘get the prescription to Tilly’, which she was doing right now. While 4)—and this was quite a crucial one, she thought—was get back again in one piece, thank you very much.
She was thinking about this last one when she realised the bus had stopped and the driver was calling for everyone to get off.
“What’s happening?” she shouted up to him.
“Bus terminates here on a Saturday,” he told her.
“You’re joking. I need to get to the Greenham Estate.”
He laughed out loud. “I reckon you’re the one who’s joking, darlin’. Why’d you think the bus stops here on Saturday nights? Don’t get much call for tourists going there at night.”
“Give me a break, I’m on an errand of mercy.”
He looked at her and said in a deadpan tone: “No such thing as mercy in that place.” Then he began laughing again.
Rachael snatched up the chemist’s bag. “Thanks a bunch.”
There were enough people on the streets, and enough cars on the road—folks heading out for the night to blow off steam after another hectic week of work—that Rachael didn’t feel the need to worry yet. It was also brightly-lit in this part of the city, and she knew that CCTV cameras were positioned on most of the buildings.
However, the more she slogged along, the darker it became as night-time fell and the streetlamps grew farther and farther apart. The crowds dwindled as the streets got longer, shadows lengthening down the alleyways as she reached the edge of the estate.
Rachael tapped her pocket, glad that she’d finally taken Steph’s advice and dug the mobile phone out from under all those knickers. It gave her some assurance, at least. But not much. If anything was to occur, how long would it take the police to get
here? Five minutes, ten? Long enough for anything to happen.
Tilly, how the hell did you end up living in an area like this? You should be in a nice little cottage near the coast, watching the sun go down over the ocean. Instead, you’re slap bang in the middle of crime central, with druggies and who knows what else only a stone’s throw away.
She passed what they laughably called a park around here: through the bars of the rusted railings, some of the spiked posts virtually hanging off, Rachael saw the swings, or at least a frame—the seats themselves were conspicuous by their absence. The assault course had been smashed to bits, too, leaving only a duck pond with no ducks—or water, for that matter—all surrounded by a façade of trees to make it look more like the countryside. It looked anything but. There was a plaque at the entrance that someone had defaced—it should have read ‘Opened by the Mayor’ but it now said: ‘Open Your Legs’; the first bit scratched out, the last part sprayed on in paint. The date alongside it was 15th February 1973. A simpler time, when perhaps this area had potential.
As Rachael drew closer to Handley Crescent, she began to get that feeling again. The same one she’d had outside the pub last night when Steph had been wittering on; a feeling like she was being watched.
It wasn’t really surprising in this neck of the woods. Shadows were on every street corner, things moving down alleys, underneath mounds of paper. The inhabitants of Greenham Estate were coming out to play, and not at the park either.
Rachael clutched the paper bag to her chest, gripping the top tightly. Who knew what the people hereabouts would do for free painkillers? It didn’t matter what it was, so long as it was a drug. Some were too far gone to even know the difference.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned. Nothing there. When she continued walking, Rachael heard them again. But once more, she looked back to see no one. Screw this, she thought. As soon as I get to Tilly’s and I’ve dropped off the medicine, I’m ringing for a taxi—stuff the cost! That was, of course, assuming a taxi would venture near Handley Crescent at night. The bus driver wasn’t exaggerating when he said people steered clear of here, especially when the sun went down.
The footsteps came again. Rachael increased her pace, but then so did whoever was following her.
Clu-clump, it went, clu-clump, clu-clump, clu-clump ...
Rachael risked yet another look, but still couldn’t see anything—possibly because it was almost black behind her now. In front of her too, in fact. She didn’t like this at all, not one bit. It was fair enough if some thug wanted to terrorise her, but the least they could do was be up front about it. This person was playing games, toying with her.
“Who’s back there?” she shouted, and immediately regretted it. Sounded like something people said in those corny thrillers on Channel Five when they were in exactly this kind of situation; well, maybe not exactly this one. Usually, they were smuggling top secret files or on the run from the mob. In any event, nobody would ever answer them, just like nobody answered her tonight.
But as she walked again, the footfalls grew louder and quicker until it sounded like they were almost upon her. Rachael didn’t look around this time, she just ran—up one street and down another. The noise followed her every step of the way, closing in, so close that she thought the person behind her would put a hand on her shoulder and spin her around.
Rachael rounded one corner and then hid behind the wall, hoping whoever it was would overshoot and run past. They didn’t. The footsteps slowed—then finally stopped. Rachael leaned back against the wall and let out a slow breath. Gearing herself up, she risked a peek round that corner.
The figure leapt out at her, pushing her back into the alley.
“Boo!” he said. Rachael couldn’t see his face at first, but she definitely recognised the voice. And now, yes, she could see the outline of the cap he was wearing.
Two more figures joined the first; the hooded shape striking a match and lighting the stubby cigarette in his mouth.
It was the two youths from outside Tilly’s yesterday morning, plus one extra addition: this one slightly older, wearing a padded jacket and jeans. The light from the match showed her more of their features, and it became clear that there was some sort of family bond between the lads, such was their physical resemblance: brothers perhaps, or cousins? She backed up until she hit the wall.
“Well hello again, gorgeous,” said Cap, obviously the spokesman for the group. “Just couldn’t keep away, eh?”
Rachael pulled a face.
The gang still had cans of lager, and Padded Jacket gulped his greedily before crushing it in his fist and tossing it aside. “Who is she?” he asked, wiping his mouth.
“Dunno,” said Cap. “I think she might be some kinda nurse. We saw her yesterday on the Crescent, didn’t we P?”
The hood moved, which Rachael took for a nod. She made a move to run up the alley, but the lad wearing the cap placed his hand on the wall behind her.
“That right? You a nurse?” His lager-tinged breath overpowered her.
Rachael said nothing; her head was pounding again and although she tried hard to stop herself, she began to tremble.
“How’d you fancy taking care of me?” The capped youth grabbed his crotch. “I think I need an examination.”
Rachael’s hand went for the phone in her pocket, and she saw the new recruit bring something out from beneath the folds of his padded jacket—something that glinted in the half-light of the alley. The one wearing the cap clutched her wrist to stop her from getting to the phone.
“What’s in the bag?” asked P, speaking for the first time.
“Dunno, let’s have a look.” Cap went to take it from her. She pulled it away, but he grabbed it and tossed it back to his hooded friend.
P opened it up. “Looks like medication and stuff.”
“So she is a nurse,” said Padded Jacket.
“Come on guys,” said Rachael finally, which shocked them a bit. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t keep the warble out of her voice. “They’re for an old lady who lives around here. I wouldn’t be out at night if she didn’t really need them.” She didn’t know how much good reasoning with them would do, but Rachael was running out of options.
“She sick, then?” asked the hooded member of the gang.
“Course she is knobhead, why else would she need it?” Padded Jacket laughed at his own words and Cap joined in.
“Hey, if there’s some good stuff in there,” said Padded Jacket, snatching the bag to get a better look, “might be able to shift it.”
Shift it? Rachael couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were they really talking about taking an old woman’s medication and selling it? Of course they were—what else would she expect from them? She stopped trembling, and more than anything else, now Rachael felt angry.
“Give me the bag back,” she told the hooded boy. He looked from her to the lad wearing the cap, who shook his head.
“Make us,” he said, still holding her wrist.
Rachael wrenched her hand free and pushed him backwards so that he collided with P. Then she kicked at Padded Jacket, catching him on the shins. She made to take back the bag, but then saw what the glinting object in the youth’s hand was as he brought the knife up and was about to lunge at her.
Rachael had seconds to decide what to do. If it had been one of her mental lists it would have read: 1) tackle the lad with the knife and get the bag or 2) run—get to Tilly’s place as fast as you can, calling the police along the way. Tilly needed those painkillers, but she wouldn’t get them if Rachael was in the hospital with a knife wound. Or worse ... Perhaps her mum was right after all to worry about her lying somewhere in a pool of blood?
No.
She decided that retreat was the better part of valour. Rachael sprinted up the alley with the youths coming after her
, screaming for revenge.
Rachael ran. She ran as fast as she could away from the gang, pulling out her mobile and lighting up the display. There were no bars at the top for reception.
Crap, she thought. The one time I do bring it out and need it, and what happens ...
Now she really didn’t have a choice. Rachael would have to head in the direction of Handley Crescent.
In the direction of Tilly’s flat and safety.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tilly almost didn’t answer the buzzer when it went.
It was dark outside. Nobody she knew would be calling to see her this late in the day; not that they ever did when it was light, either. Which meant that it had to be someone trying to get into her complex, into her flat—for whatever reason—and she was in no hurry to find out who. But it just kept buzzing. “You’re persistent,” she said to herself (Tilly had always talked to herself, even before growing old—making the joke that if you wanted decent conversation, there was really no other choice). Finally, she answered it to stop the noise.
“Whoever this is, I—”
“Tilly, oh thank God!”
She recognised the voice immediately. It was Rachael. Before she could even ask what was happening, the girl was explaining—her words fast and furious on the intercom. “You have to let me in. I was bringing you your medication because I forgot to give it you, but now I’m being chased—please Tilly, let me in. I need to call the police.”
She didn’t need to hear any more. Tilly buzzed her in and opened her flat door when she heard the knock. Rachael practically fell inside, shaking like a naked woman in an ice bath.
“Oh my word ... Whatever’s happened, young Rachael?” She placed an arm around her shoulders.