Web of Darkness

by Bali Rai

  Oh, really sorry – maybe I did.

  You sure you’re OK, Lily?

  Yes. I’ve been so busy, I must have forgotten.

  Hook the camera up, then – I want to see you!

  I glanced at the pile of books on my bed. I was really tempted by seeing Benedict face to face, but I had revision to do and my exams were too important. I needed to listen to my sensible head and not my mixed-up heart.

  Like a warning sign, Mum poked her head round my bedroom door. ‘I don’t think Facebook is on the curriculum,’ she said sternly.

  ‘I know,’ I replied. ‘I’m just about to come off and revise for English. Promise.’

  Mum smiled at me. ‘You’d better,’ she warned.

  As soon as she’d gone, I went back to Benedict.

  Look, I have to go – sorry. I really have to revise.

  Come on babe – just five minutes?

  Sorry.

  Don’t be so cruel. Please?????

  I can’t – I have to work. I’ll hook it up when I get some free time – promise.

  You’re making me beg, Lily!

  Please Benedict – I can’t fail my exams. I’ll hook it up next time, OK?

  Five minutes won’t hurt.

  I felt myself growing annoyed. Why couldn’t he just listen to me?

  I’m serious. I have to go. Catch you later?

  Don’t tease, Lily . . .

  I watched the screen for a few more moments, then turned away, and opened my copy of Romeo and Juliet, but I couldn’t concentrate. Instead, I thought back to the night I’d given Benedict my address. I hated forgetting things; I wasn’t a disorganized person but my memory was still drawing a complete blank.

  I just couldn’t recall doing it at all.

  The Spider sits on a bench – watches joggers run past. The park is drenched in late-evening sunshine. A gang of youths walk two Staffordshire bull terriers along the outer path. One dog is brindle, the other a patchwork of black and white. Across the way sits Leicester University, and a war memorial cast in stone.

  The Spider is thinking, considering. He knows what needs to be done. When the OTHER arrives, moments later, he looks sheepish. The Spider shakes his head. Establishes power . . .

  ‘You’re late,’ he tells his fellow traveller.

  ‘Traffic, work,’ the OTHER replies.

  ‘Tell me why you have put us in danger?’ the Spider asks.

  The OTHER sits down too. ‘I didn’t think,’ he replies.

  ‘But I made the rules clear,’ the Spider reminds him. ‘No move that isn’t planned. No contact that isn’t secure. Where is the difficulty in comprehending that?’

  ‘No difficulty.’

  ‘So – why?’

  The OTHER resists an urge to punch the Spider. He isn’t afraid. The Spider, for all his delusions, is a weed. Violence is not where his aptitude rests. It’s not what makes him so dangerous. The threat is in his other skills and their shared history. The Spider knows things . . .

  ‘I made a decision – I was wrong,’ the OTHER says.

  ‘You like this girl?’

  The OTHER shakes his head. ‘No more than any before her,’ he explains. ‘She is simply an opportunity too good to miss.’

  ‘You realize that she will have to go?’

  The OTHER nods. ‘I thought as much after our last phone call.’

  ‘She is the only one who can connect us,’ the Spider points out. ‘I didn’t come here to get caught. I came to bring you closer to the action. I will not be found out.’

  Again, the OTHER nods his understanding. ‘Does she have to go immediately?’ he asks.

  The Spider shakes his head. ‘No,’ he explains. ‘The next two are ready and there will be much attention. You can’t drop her too suddenly. We have to proceed with care.’

  ‘We’ve already drawn attention,’ the OTHER replies.

  ‘Yes,’ the Spider tells him, ‘but we have been in control of those . . . situations. Your actions have taken control from us.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘The girl is an unknown variable. We can’t trust her completely.’

  ‘I’ll deal with that. She’ll listen to me.’

  ‘What if she talks to her friends?’ the Spider asks. ‘Tells the one she is always with?’

  ‘She won’t . . .’

  The Spider is amused and angered in one. ‘I asked you what would happen if she did talk,’ he snaps. ‘Who would be arrested and taken from the game?’

  The OTHER realizes and nods slowly. ‘That would be me,’ he says.

  ‘And only you know about my presence,’ the Spider explains. ‘What if you get caught and throw my name to the police?’

  ‘I would never do that,’ the OTHER insists.

  ‘How can I be sure?’ the Spider asks. ‘My only guarantee is that, with the girl gone, there is no more risk.’

  The OTHER shrugs. ‘Shall I take care of it?’ he asks.

  ‘No,’ the Spider tells him. ‘I will decide when and how to proceed. Is that clear?’

  The OTHER nods. ‘I have found more buyers,’ he adds. ‘For the recordings.’

  ‘Men like you?’ asks the Spider. ‘With your predilections?’

  ‘Are we not the same?’

  The Spider smiles. ‘I am nothing like you,’ he replies. ‘I have no interest in sexual matters. You’ve always known that, haven’t you?’

  The OTHER stares out across the park. A family of four walk the far path, and a game of football ends as the light draws in. ‘Why do you do this, then?’ he asks.

  The Spider stands and stretches his legs. ‘Because I can,’ he replies.

  ‘So you’re just a troll?’

  The Spider throws him a furious glare. ‘You of all people should know that I’m no troll!’ he spits in disgust. ‘Where would you and your fellow pederasts be without my efforts? What would you watch?’

  ‘I meant no offence,’ the OTHER tells him.

  ‘I’m sure that is true,’ the Spider replies. ‘After all, you’ve seen what I can achieve. Would you like me to prey on you?’

  The OTHER lifts an eyebrow. ‘No.’

  ‘Then we know where we stand,’ the Spider replies. ‘I shall be in touch.’

  He saunters off, towards the city centre, his eyes blazing . . .

  15

  Tilly stayed angry with me. I’d left her to stew for a day before calling, and then sent text messages, but she’d ignored them all. And two days later, she still wasn’t talking to me.

  Danny and Kane realized there was a problem when, for the first time ever, Tilly and I didn’t eat our lunch together. Benedict was annoying me too. Nothing major – he’d just been pestering me with messages again. My Facebook inbox was full of them. It was as though he wanted an instant response, all the time. And that just wasn’t possible.

  The dining hall was packed and noisy, and it stank of musty clothes, food and even a little BO. I felt a little lost without Tilly.

  ‘Just stuff,’ I lied to the boys. ‘We’ll be fine.’

  Only I wasn’t sure that was true. This was something new for Tilly and me – a place we’d never been to, and I couldn’t handle it. I wanted my girl back, preferably minus the new boyfriend.

  ‘But you’re like sisters,’ said Danny. ‘Not to mention being my number one bitches . . .’

  ‘Stop worrying,’ I replied. ‘Seriously – it’s nothing.’

  But it was something. It was huge. And I was determined to sort it out.

  I saw Tilly in the corridor, towards the end of lunch. She was standing chatting to Mum’s ex, Dave, who saw me and waved. Tilly didn’t even look at me, though, and I walked away after giving Dave a return wave. In afternoon registration, she sat on her own, close to Mr Warren’s desk.

  Manisha walked in and saw that Tilly wasn’t sitting with me. I waited for her to say something, but for once she kept her big mouth shut.

  Tilly was talking to our form tutor, and when I glanced at her, sh
e looked away. I felt horrible and my eyes grew moist.

  ‘She won’t even look at you,’ Danny whispered in my ear. ‘Seriously, babe – like, WTF?’

  ‘She’s angry with me,’ I whispered back. ‘She’ll be OK soon.’

  Danny raised a plucked eyebrow. He smelled of vanilla and spice – a women’s perfume that I loved. ‘Angry about what?’ he said.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I told him. ‘Just girl stuff – honest.’ And now I’m lying to you, I thought. What a fantastic friend I’m not.

  ‘But I’m an honorary girl,’ Danny replied. ‘You can tell me anything.’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s personal,’ I told him. ‘But I’ll sort it out, promise.’

  ‘You’d better,’ he told me, looking a bit hurt, as Jamie and his pals sauntered in.

  ‘Move, you likkle anti-man!’ Jamie whispered at Danny.

  ‘Make me, you skidmark,’ Danny replied, his voice much louder.

  ‘Something wrong, Danny?’ asked Mr Warren.

  Danny shrugged. ‘Nothing beyond the usual, sir,’ he said. ‘Jamie was just admiring my eyelashes.’

  Jamie scowled and walked away, as Mr Warren cleared his throat.

  ‘Right.’ Our form tutor stood up. ‘Quite a few notices this afternoon, so listen up.’

  As he read out the messages, I smiled again at Tilly but she just rolled her eyes. Then Mr Dhindsa appeared at the door, with the policewoman, DC Evans, in tow. Mr Warren stopped and asked them to come in. A few whispers circled amongst my classmates.

  ‘We’d like to speak to Manisha Patel,’ said Mr Dhindsa.

  ‘Huh?’ asked Manisha. ‘Why?’

  I wondered what was going on. After my initial chat with DC Evans all those weeks ago, when I’d given her a list of names, things had calmed down. So why was she back and wanting to talk to Manisha now?

  ‘Just a few questions,’ said our deputy principal. ‘Won’t take long.’

  Manisha sighed, grabbed her bag and nudged me as she walked out. I thought it had to be about Amy, but why now, after so long? DC Evans gave me a quick glance and smiled. I managed a half-smile in return before they left.

  ‘What’s that about?’ whispered Danny.

  ‘Dunno,’ I said.

  I guessed that the police investigation was a slow process. From what I’d seen on the news, they were still making enquiries – Amy’s family hadn’t even been able to hold a funeral. I wondered if they were beginning to deal with the nastiest of Amy’s tormentors. It was about time.

  ‘Do you think she’ll lock the evil munchkin up?’ joked Danny. ‘Save me from stabbing her with her own false nails?’

  Mr Warren shushed us and continued to read out notices. As he finished, we all filed out, except for Tilly, who stayed put. I went back in and confronted her.

  ‘Go away,’ she said softly.

  I couldn’t believe it. ‘Tilly!’

  ‘You’re supposed to be my best friend,’ she replied. ‘But all you did was judge me.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ I told her, my voice low so that Mr Warren, who was on his laptop, wouldn’t hear. ‘I was just worried about you.’

  Tilly stood, and Mr Warren looked up. ‘Everything OK?’ he asked us.

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ I told him.

  ‘Perfect,’ added Tilly.

  He gave us a bemused look. ‘Get to lessons, then.’

  In the corridor, Tilly walked off and I had to rush to catch her up.

  ‘Oi!’

  ‘Go away!’ she demanded.

  ‘No!’ I yelled, not bothered who heard us this time. ‘Stuff you and stuff your bullshit!’

  Tilly’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. I don’t know what came over me, but it had been building for days. Once I’d finished school, done all the revision I needed and had time to relax, I was so tired that I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. And then, when I did sleep, I saw Tilly’s face or Amy sitting on that wall outside the pub, her skin pink with the cold.

  ‘I’m not talking to you!’ snapped Tilly.

  ‘Don’t you dare act so childish with me,’ I told her. ‘You want to destroy our friendship over something so stupid?’

  Tilly looked at her feet, her face taking on colour.

  ‘Well, I won’t let you!’ I insisted.

  When Tilly looked back at me, I saw she was crying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘But it’s your fault. You think I’m a slut.’

  I shook my head. What the hell was she on about? There was no way I’d ever call my best friend something so horrible. Tilly was annoying and moody sometimes but she wasn’t that.

  ‘When did I call you a slut?’

  Tilly looked back down the corridor nervously. She was right: Mr Warren could probably hear us. We needed privacy – well, as much as you could find in a school.

  Our maths lesson was beginning but it was all revision so I wasn’t worried about being late for it. This was more important. ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘let’s talk in the gym toilets.’

  We went downstairs, past reception and the dining hall. To the left was a corridor that led to the gym, and the quietest toilets in school. As we entered, a couple of Year Seven girls were inside chatting about some pop star and how much they loved him. When they saw us, they looked a bit scared and scuttled out quickly. I checked all four cubicles, making sure we were alone. The walls and floor were slate grey, and the basins stainless steel. The only light was artificial, and harsh.

  ‘Right,’ I said, satisfied that no one could hear us. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Tell you what?’ said Tilly, drying her eyes with a tissue from her bag.

  ‘Why you’ve been ignoring me.’

  She shrugged. ‘Because you don’t like my new boyfriend,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve never met him, so how can I not like him?’ I asked.

  She looked away. ‘I thought I could tell you anything,’ she whispered.

  ‘You can.’

  Her face was paler than usual, and she hadn’t ironed her clothes either. I began to worry about her. She didn’t look right.

  ‘You said you wouldn’t betray me,’ she added. ‘Remember?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When we came to this school,’ she continued. ‘You said you were my best girl for ever. That you’d always support me.’

  Of course, I knew the exact moment. It had been in our first form room. We were sitting together, sizing up the strangers who would become our new classmates. We’d been scared and excited at the same time – sisters facing a brand-new world together. Yet here we were now. It was breaking my heart.

  ‘Yeah,’ I told her, ‘I remember that. And I haven’t betrayed you. I’ve just been honest because I love you.’

  Tilly started to reply but couldn’t. She burst into tears.

  ‘How old is he?’ I asked. She still refused to say. ‘Tilly?’

  She shook her head and dabbed her face with more tissue. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she told me. ‘You wouldn’t care anyway. You ain’t bothered that he means something to me. That we love each other . . .’

  That threw me. My super-cool, street-smart sister was in love. ‘How can you love him, Tilly?’ I asked. ‘How much do you have in common?’

  ‘You don’t understand!’ she moaned.

  ‘I’m trying!’ I replied. ‘But you’re fifteen years old . . .’

  She shook her head. ‘I know what I’m doing,’ she told me. ‘And if you don’t believe me, then maybe we should forget it . . .’

  ‘Forget what?’ I asked, growing anxious.

  ‘This!’ she replied. ‘This friendship, or whatever! If I can’t trust you . . .’

  I tried to stay calm, but I couldn’t. Something inside me snapped. ‘You’re going to cut me off over some creep?’ I asked. ‘Some man who thinks it’s OK to start a relationship with a schoolgirl?’

  Tilly’s eyes turned fiery. ‘Don’t you dare call him that!’ she spat. ‘You haven’t got a clue – not one!’

  ‘Rea
lly?’ I replied.

  ‘Yeah!’ she spat. ‘And I’m done with this!’

  I was so angry, I didn’t stop to think. ‘Fine, if that’s what you want,’ I said, unable to believe what was coming out of my mouth. I felt genuinely queasy too.

  ‘Whatever,’ she replied. ‘You did this, Lily . . . not me.’

  I shook my head. ‘Do your parents know?’ I asked.

  She grabbed my top and shoved me against the basins, her grip tight. I was too shocked to struggle.

  ‘Don’t you dare tell anyone!’ she warned. ‘If you do, I’ll fucking kill you!’

  I’d started to cry too, and through my tears I saw something in Tilly change. Right up until that point, our fight hadn’t seemed real. Like, it was just bickering or whatever. Now, I knew it was serious and that hurt. Bad.

  ‘You’re doing this over some man?’ I whispered, the snot bubbling in my nostrils.

  ‘He’s not just some man!’ she shouted. ‘I love him!’

  The girl is obviously embarrassed and looks away, across open fields. The OTHER taps his finger against the steering wheel – impatient. He hasn’t time for this – he needs to get back to work. The car’s interior is plush – leather seats and soft-touch plastics, with aluminium inserts along the dashboard. The engine is running, a Beatles CD playing.

  ‘Well?’ he asks. ‘Have you told anyone?’

  The girl shakes her head but cannot look at him. He knows that she is lying.

  ‘I need to know,’ he tells her. ‘We could get into serious trouble.’

  She turns back and nods slightly. ‘Sort of,’ she replies. ‘But no details. She doesn’t know your name or anything like that.’

  He grips the steering wheel with both hands now, his anger increasing. ‘Who?’ he asks. ‘Who did you tell?’

  ‘Just Lily,’ she replies. ‘No one else.’

  The OTHER thinks for a minute. Curses her in his head. You stupid, stupid, girl . . . ‘And who will Lily tell?’ he asks.

  ‘No one,’ the girl tells him. ‘She won’t betray me.’