Don't Want To Miss A Thing

by Mansell, Jill

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t think you’ll have that problem with Vince.’ Having watched from the bedroom window as he’d screeched out of the pub car park at fifty miles an hour, Lois was enveloped in a wave of sadness. ‘I’m pretty sure we won’t be seeing him again.’

  Chapter 48

  Amber liked loud music but this music was so loud it felt as if it was being injected directly into her brain. The floorboards were vibrating beneath her feet, her head was pounding, someone had spilled a drink down the back of her shirt and someone else had just staggered backwards and trodden on her foot.

  ‘Ooow,’ wailed Amber but no one could hear her above the noise. The party was being held in a squat belonging to Carter, a friend of a friend of Beeny’s. Well, belonged probably wasn’t the right word. It had been occupied by him and a few others, and tonight they’d invited over what felt like everyone they’d ever met.

  It was impossible to count how many were here, because of all the different rooms in the place; it was dark and crowded and disorientating. One thing was for sure though, the invited guests didn’t like to wash much.

  Also, Doss had given her a drink that hadn’t just been beer; when she’d started stumbling around, losing her balance and bouncing off walls, Beeny had said, ‘Ha-ha, there was a ton of vodka in that too!’

  She’d laughed because everyone else was laughing, but then Beeny had rolled her another spliff and when she’d shaken her head he’d curled his lip and said, ‘What’s the matter, Lady Amber? My stuff not good enough for you?’

  Beeny had changed; she really didn’t like him any more, but he was Doss’s friend so they still had to hang out together.

  ‘Shut up, Beeny, leave her alone.’ Phil, another new friend of Beeny’s, put a reassuring arm round her. ‘Lady Amber don’t have to smoke your crappy skunk, man. Not if she don’t want to.’

  That had been twenty minutes ago but she’d now managed to lose sight of everyone she knew. It was time to go and find them. Hazily, feeling as if she was having to crawl through the fuggy smoke that hung in the air, Amber made her way up the broad curving staircase. Swaying and knocking against the newel post, she mumbled, ‘Sorry,’ which was such a Lady Amber thing to say. Phil was the one who’d started calling her that, apparently because she sounded posh compared with the rest of them. OK, up the uncarpeted stairs and along the landing. Wow, so many doors, so many . . . let’s start with this one . . .

  When Amber realised what she was seeing she stopped dead in her tracks. There was no furniture in the bedroom other than a dirty mattress on the floor with people huddled around it. Phil had been kneeling with his back to her; when he turned, Amber saw the syringe in his hand. Then her horrified gaze took in the fact that one of the people on the mattress was Doss.

  Someone was shouting, ‘What’s going on?’ and it took her a moment to realise the words had come from her.

  Doss had his shirtsleeve rolled up and a tourniquet wrapped round his skinny upper arm. Shaking her head in disbelief, Amber yelled, ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Oh Christ, can someone get fucking Lady Amber out of here?’ This came from a stringy-haired girl she’d never even spoken to before.

  But Doss was holding out his other arm, beckoning to her, his own voice soft and hypnotic. ‘It’s OK, babe, it’s all cool, you have to try this. It’s, like, the most amazing stuff.’

  ‘Are you mad? It’s heroin!’

  ‘Yeah, but you’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.’ His dark eyes glowed with love and warmth as he closed his fingers around hers. ‘But once you give it a chance, you’ll see what I mean. Go on, babe, try it, Phil’s got loads and he’ll let you pay him back.’

  So this was why Doss had borrowed her last fifteen pounds – and why he’d never repaid the twenty he’d borrowed the other week. It also explained those bruises she’d seen on his inner arm. Oh God, this was a nightmare. There’d been the occasional mention of other drugs before now, but she’d had no idea it had come to this. Amber’s brain was still fogged but her eyes were wide as she stared from Doss to Phil.

  In turn, Phil flicked the upturned syringe with a grubby fingernail and said, ‘Seeing as it’s you, darling, I can do you a hit for a tenner.’

  Lunging wildly at him, Amber smacked the syringe out of his hand. The next moment she was being dragged backwards and there was a searing pain in her ear.

  ‘You stupid cow!’ The stringy-haired girl was hauling her across the floorboards by her hair. ‘How fucking dare you?’ She was surprisingly strong. Behind her, Amber glimpsed Phil reaching for the fallen syringe and heard Doss say, ‘Just go ahead and use it anyway, it’ll be fine . . .’

  ‘Owwww.’ The pain in Amber’s ear was excruciating. The door was opened and she was flung out, her head bouncing off the opposite wall. The girl with stringy hair and a bony but equally strong male with a skull tattooed on his throat shoved her towards the top of the staircase. A blast of fetid sour breath hit her in the face as he snarled, ‘Just fuck off, OK? And don’t come back.’

  Outside it was eleven o’clock, pitch black and raining heavily. Amber stumbled down the driveway in a state of shock, clutching her ear. When she pulled out her phone, the lit-up screen was smeared with blood from her hands.

  OK, think, think. Where was she? The house was in the depths of the countryside . . . there were no lights visible in any direction. Oh Mum, help me, I don’t want to be here any more.

  Fingers trembling, Amber pressed Home and listened to it ring. And ring. Oh God, if her mum was already in bed she might not even hear the phone downstairs.

  When the answering machine kicked in, she whimpered, ‘Mum? Mum . . . are you there?’

  Nothing. Ending the call, she wiped blood and rain from the screen and saw how little battery she had left. Hardly any at all. This was a nightmare. Woozily she tried to work out where she might be. Was it somewhere between Tetbury and Stroud? Stumbling into a wall, she fell to her knees and in desperation rang a number she hadn’t rung for months.

  Still nothing. Her father’s mobile was switched off. And blood was dripping steadily from her ear, soaking into her shirt. Blinking rain out of her eyes . . . or were they tears? . . . Amber felt the rough stone wall end and a wooden gate begin. Groping her way along it, she came to a rectangular plaque. By holding the phone close to it, she was just able to make out the letters carved into the wood. Morton . . . Morton Farm . . .

  Only four per cent battery power left now. Her hands shaking, she scrolled through the numbers. There was Shaun’s, given to her ages ago and never rung either. But if he was at home, it meant he was relatively close. And he was her brother. The battery went down to three per cent and with a whimper of fear she pressed Call.

  ‘Hello?’ It was Shaun’s voice, he sounded surprised. ‘Amber?’

  ‘Shaun?’ Thank God. At the sound of his voice she began to cry. ‘D’you know where my dad is?’

  ‘He’s away tonight, up in London. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Oh Shaun, I’ve got no battery left and I don’t know where I am. I want to go home . . .’ Behind her, she heard footsteps and the sound of someone bellowing her name.

  ‘Tell me what’s going on,’ Shaun said urgently.

  ‘It’s a p-party at Morton F-Farm.’ The tears were clogging her throat. ‘I don’t like these p-people. I don’t like Doss any more. Can you help me? I’m not far from you, I don’t think.’

  ‘Who are you calling?’ It was Phil, looming up out of the darkness. ‘Is it the police? Come on, Lady Amber, you don’t want to spoil our night, do you?’

  ‘Nooo!’ Amber shouted as he grabbed her roughly by the arm.

  ‘Hey, don’t worry.’ Snatching the mobile from her grasp, Phil said into it, ‘It’s OK, she’s fine.’ Ending the call, he saw Shaun’s name on the screen and visibly relaxed, before switching the phone off. Then, shoving her in the direction of the farm, he said, ‘I’ll look after you. Come back inside with me.’

  Frankie was
upstairs but she wasn’t asleep. Or alone. With Amber spending the night with another of her schoolfriends, she’d invited Henry down from London. And the last hour or so had been . . . wonderful.

  Now, as they lay in bed with their arms around each other, she heard the distant sound of the phone beginning to ring. Disentangling herself, she said, ‘I’ll have to answer that.’

  Downstairs she reached it just before the answering machine could kick in. Who would be calling at this time of night?

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, look, this is Shaun. Um, have you heard from Amber?’

  Shaun? The boy’s voice hit her like a football in the chest. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Sorry, it’s just that she called me and sounded pretty upset. I don’t want to worry you, but she was crying and then I heard someone else say she was OK, but she didn’t sound OK, and now her phone’s off.’

  ‘Oh God. And she called you?’

  ‘She was trying to find Dad. I mean . . . her dad. But he’s away in London and his phone’s switched off too.’

  Amber was in enough of a state to try and reach Joe? Frankie felt herself begin to panic. ‘OK, what should I do? Shall I try and contact her friends? She told me she was staying at Emma’s house tonight.’ So that had obviously been a lie.

  ‘She’s at a party with Doss. At Morton Farm, Amber said, but I can’t find out where that is. She thinks it’s near Tetbury. Mum’s here,’ Shaun went on hurriedly. ‘She says we can drive around and start looking for her if you want.’

  Frankie covered her mouth. Henry, coming downstairs behind her, said, ‘What is it? What’s going on?’

  ‘Tell your mum thanks, that’s very kind. But we’ll come over.’

  ‘I want to help,’ said Shaun.

  ‘We’ll pick you up,’ Frankie told him.

  ‘Right. The address is—’

  ‘It’s OK, I know where you live.’ Hadn’t she and Molly driven past the house in hats and dark glasses the week after Joe had left Briarwood?

  The roads were empty. Henry, who had insisted they take his car, drove like the wind. Within twenty-five minutes they’d reached Tetbury.

  When they turned into Parnall Avenue, there they were, waiting for her outside number 22. Joe’s other family. Shaun and his mother.

  ‘I’ve found it.’ Shaun waved his phone at them. ‘Amber got it wrong; she thought it was Morton Farm. But it’s Horton Farm . . . I remembered it was taken over by squatters a while back. And when I looked it up on Twitter, someone’s mentioned going to a party there tonight.’

  ‘Right. Let’s go and get her. This is my friend Henry,’ said Frankie as Shaun jumped into the back seat.

  ‘And I’m Christina.’ His mother was slender and blonde, her gaze compassionate as she looked at Frankie. ‘I’ve heard about the things that go on at Horton Farm. I want to come along too.’

  They were both mothers. If Shaun were the one in trouble and Christina needed help, Frankie knew she’d be there in a flash. You just would. She nodded at Christina and smiled briefly at the woman who had shared her husband for so many years. ‘Thanks. Yes, why not? Let’s all go.’

  Chapter 49

  Horton Farm was dilapidated, the land around it hopelessly overgrown. The rain was coming down harder now and there was no one outside. But there were lights on in the property and they could hear thudding music and loud voices.

  Frankie’s stomach was in knots as she and Shaun approached the front door. Had they completely overreacted? Would Amber be absolutely fine and utterly mortified to see her mother on the doorstep? Would her friends tease her so much she’d never live it down?

  Frankie and Shaun knocked on the door and waited. Finally it creaked open a few inches and a dead-eyed girl with unwashed hair surveyed them with suspicion.

  ‘What?’

  Frankie managed a friendly, unthreatening smile. ‘Hello, we’re looking for Amber.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My daughter. She’s seventeen. Curly dark red hair.’

  The girl’s lip curled with derision. ‘Nope, don’t know her.’ And the door was slammed shut in their faces. On the other side, they heard bolts being wrenched across.

  ‘Right.’ When they went back to the car and told the others what had happened, Henry said, ‘Well, we tried asking nicely.’

  Sensing Frankie’s terror, Christina said reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.’

  Oh, but was it? Frankie felt sick. Please don’t let anything bad happen to my baby girl . . .

  This time all four of them made their way up to the farmhouse. Henry led them around the side of the building until they reached the back. Finding a door, he tried the handle. Locked. Then Frankie spotted a tiny broken window and pointed to it.

  ‘That’ll do.’ Henry stuck his hand through the hole in the glass and opened the window from the inside. ‘Except it’s too small for me to get through.’

  ‘Let me.’ In jeans and trainers, Christina climbed up on to the narrow window ledge and eased her way through. Within seconds she’d unlocked the door from the inside.

  ‘Jesus, it smells in here.’ Henry grimaced at the stench; they were in a narrow, empty utility room with dirty plates and abandoned lager cans littering the floor. Opening the next door would take them into the main house. Stealthily turning the handle he said, ‘OK, let’s go.’

  The music was bone-shakingly loud, the air thick with smoke and unwashed bodies. There were hundreds of people in various stages of intoxication, some barely coherent. They turned to stare at Henry, six foot five inches and sixteen stone of honed Caribbean muscle, accompanied by a preppy student type and two older women who clearly didn’t fit in.

  ‘What’s going on? Who are you?’ A filthy hand gripped Shaun’s arm and he shook him off.

  ‘Where’s Amber?’ said Frankie and the owner of the hand said, ‘How the fuck should I know?’

  ‘Right, no sign of her downstairs.’ From his great height, Henry had a better view amongst the throng. Pointing to the staircase he said, ‘We’ll try up there.’

  ‘Hey, man, get away from that door.’ At the top of the stairs, two more people attempted to stop Henry in his tracks. Pushing them effortlessly to one side, he led the way. Frankie’s heart thudded as she caught her first glimpse of filthy mattresses on the floor, one of them occupied by Doss. There were syringes scattered around, pieces of crumpled tinfoil, an unfamiliar smell . . .

  ‘Oi, get out,’ bellowed a man wielding a syringe. That was when all hell let loose. Someone tried to hit Henry. Then more people launched themselves at him. Like a great bear, he shook himself free and yelled, ‘Where’s Amber? She’s not in here . . .’

  ‘Come on, let’s try the other rooms.’ Christina seized Frankie’s arm and pulled her outside. ‘Call her name, see if she hears you.’

  ‘Amber? AMBER?’

  Shaun came running out of the room, his breathing ragged. ‘Someone just said was she Doss’s girlfriend, the one covered in blood. She’s in one of these.’

  Covered in blood? Oh God.

  ‘Amber!’ Shaun burst in through another door and bounced back out again. ‘No, not in there.’

  Frankie tried the next one but the room was empty. Oh my baby girl, where are you? She took a lung-bursting deep breath and bellowed, ‘AMBER?’

  Then they heard, faintly, someone whisper, ‘Mum . . .’

  ‘In there.’ Christina zoned in on the voice and pointed to the third door along. Attempting to get in, Frankie said breathlessly, ‘It won’t open . . .’

  ‘Henry!’ shouted Christina, and Henry came flying out of the first room. ‘The door’s locked and she’s inside.’

  ‘Out of the way,’ Henry ordered, readying himself. The next moment he swung round at dizzying speed, his leg kicked out and the door crashed open on its hinges.

  Sick with fear, Frankie stumbled into the room. There was another grey mattress on the floor and there, huddled on it and sobbing as if her heart would
break, was Amber. Spattered in blood but alive. Gazing brokenly up at them, she held out her arms to Frankie and sobbed, ‘Oh M-mum . . .’

  Well, what an evening. Here they were, back in Tetbury, all of them crowded into the living room of 22 Parnall Avenue. Bonded together, Frankie realised as she rubbed Amber’s back, in the most peculiar way.

  Then again, it might be peculiar but it was also quite moving. Both she and Christina had shed tears of relief that Amber was all right.

  Amber had sobered up now and was shocked and repentant. Her hooped silver earring had been ripped out, slicing straight through her earlobe, hence the alarming amount of blood all over the right side of her previously white shirt. Having phoned a friend who was a plastic surgeon, Henry had ascertained there was nothing to be done about it just now. When the inflammation had subsided, the repair would be carried out under local anaesthetic, so there was no need to visit A&E tonight.

  Which was a relief as far as Frankie was concerned because all she could do at the moment was hug and comfort her beloved daughter and pray she’d had a big enough fright to make her want to change her ways.

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ said Shaun. ‘I’m going to take up karate again.’ He looked at Amber. ‘Honestly, it was so brilliant. Henry was like Superman, the way he kicked that door open. I used to go to karate lessons when I was little but I gave up after yellow belt. Well, this time I’m going to keep on going all the way to black. That’s a handy skill to have.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Tears of gratitude filled Amber’s red-rimmed eyes as she turned to Henry. ‘Sorry I was such a nuisance. Thank you so much to all of you.’

  ‘Christina was brilliant too,’ Frankie chimed in, because it needed to be said. Holding her hands not far apart, she went on, ‘There was the tiniest broken window, just this wide, and she climbed through it. Otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to get into the house.’

  ‘Oh don’t, it was nothing.’ Christina dismissed the words with a shrug as she handed round mugs of tomato soup. Smiling at Amber, she said, ‘We’re just so glad you’re all right.’