No Alarms

by Beckett, Bernard

  Cos it was Justin. So laid back you couldn’t name the feelings, moving so slow you could forget which direction you were headed in, so suddenly you’d find yourself back at the beginning, and you wouldn’t even care. A naked conversation without any of the words, and whenever Sharon moved she could feel his warm body moving with her.

  Zinny woke them the next morning, bouncing impatiently on the end of the bed.

  ‘I didn’t know you were in here,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘So what do you want for breakfast then?’ Justin asked, rolling over and draping his arm across Sharon’s shoulder.

  ‘Hash Browns!’ Zinny squealed without even having to think.

  ‘Okay. Let me have a shower and then we’re off to McDonalds, right?’

  Justin swung out of the bed and Sharon watched his little butt as he passed through the doorway, Zinny skipping behind him like it was nothing strange, following some naked guy he hardly knew down the hallway.

  • • •

  The next Wednesday it rained. Big heavy rain, the sort that can soak you through in a minute, so hard-out even the inside of the house feels damp. Sharon had been rung the night before by Justin, the first time she’d spoken to him all week. It was a short conversation, strictly business. Details about where to meet, and how to get there, and stuff about the alarm, numbers he wouldn’t let her write down. She could tell Simon was there in the background, checking Justin didn’t get anything wrong. Hutton had placed an order with the agency. Justin gave her one chance to pull out and she didn’t take it.

  Sharon spent the day inside, trying not to think about it; going to the window every ten minutes, to check on the weather, until Kaz got sick of it.

  ‘Jesus, sit down will you? What are you expecting to see out there?’

  ‘I’m just bored.’

  ‘Should have thought of that before you got kicked out.’

  Kaz’d have that forever now, any time she was feeling too lazy to argue.

  ‘So what’s wrong with you then? You’ve been acting pissed off ever since the weekend.’

  ‘No more than usual. Where are you going?’

  ‘Out.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. It’s pissing down.’

  ‘I’ll wear a coat.’

  ‘What coat?’

  ‘Could wear a jacket, if you hadn’t stolen it.’

  ‘You got your money.’

  ‘Not all of it I bet.’

  ‘Here, get us some cigarettes while you’re there will you?’

  ‘Money?’

  ‘Go to the one down on Pyre Street. Benny owes me a favour.’

  ‘Okay. Oh yeah, I’m going out tonight.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Nowhere you’d be allowed. I’m taking your black dress.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The little one.’

  ‘You wear that you’d better get some condoms down at Benny’s too.’

  nine

  BY SEVEN O’CLOCK, when Sharon got on the train, the rain was getting bored. It was the wind’s turn now, picking up the last few showers and hurling them against the window. Sharon was cold, even with the big padded jacket she wore, hiding the dress from the other passengers. Just a couple of them, commuters going the wrong way, from the cheap jobs back to the expensive houses, too lost in their newspapers to notice her anyway.

  She caught a bus from the station, number 12, just like Justin had told her, even though there was another bus that went directly there. He hadn’t told her how him or Simon were getting there, or even where they’d meet her. ‘Just; be there on time,’ he’d said, ‘and we’ll follow you in.’

  Sharon had to walk past the big supermarket, where arseholes would fill their trolleys with anything that looked expensive. She cut across its car park, dodging the circuit of impatient cars; their headlights so bright it was like they were hunting her down, their windscreen wipers flapping backwards and forwards like a warning. She kept her head down, not wanting to notice anyone, not wanting to be noticed. Wanting the whole evening to pass by on automatic, so it would be more like watching than taking part.

  The apartment was easy to find, just like Justin had said it would be. A big ugly block of glass and concrete high enough to see out over the tops of the pines on the waterfront. Sharon looked at her watch, 7.45 exactly. Simon and Justin arrived without her seeing them. Neither of them spoke at first. Justin looked nervous, like there was something he wanted to say, something that would have to wait till Simon wasn’t there. Simon just pointed at the voice box, where visitors could register their arrival. Graham Hutton, two thirds way down the list of people with enough money to live in a place like this, and maybe enough secrets too. Sharon hesitated, her finger half a centimetre from the button. Her mind went blank. She panicked and the name she was meant to use slipped further out of reach.

  ‘Selina,’ Simon muttered, pissed off and dangerous.

  ‘Yes?’ A voice crackled out of the speaker.

  ‘Selina, for a Graham Hutton.’

  ‘Where’s Margo?’

  ‘Sick.’ Just like they’d planned.

  ‘One moment.’

  But it took longer than that, before the metal gate slid back. It was so heavy Sharon could hear the rollers creaking, and high enough to almost touch the car park ceiling, so you’d never climb over. Simon put his hand out and Sharon gave him her jacket. The cold came suddenly, drawing goosebumps to the legs she’d shaved specially. Then they were in, all three of them. Sharon to walk across to the lift, Simon and Justin to find a quiet place amongst the cars, out of reach of the security cameras.

  The lift was tiny, too small to fall over in, no matter how drunk you might be. Sharon closed her eyes and felt it shaking upwards. She tried to fade out, to leave the scene through some crack in her mind, but the lift stopped before she could escape. The door opened into a narrow, unfriendly corridor. Not ugly or cheap, there was thick carpet and the soft light came from lamps set on two thin wooden stools, but unwelcoming. It had the feel of a place people only passed through, where nothing was welcome to hang long. Hutton’s apartment, 507, was directly in front of her. A simple doorbell this time, a muffled two-tone ring and the sound of a person approaching from the other side.

  ‘Come in.’ Said quietly. Polite too, and not at all hurried. Not like a person who had ordered some slut to come visiting, who was scared the neighbours might see. More like a person who didn’t care, because it was his house, his money.

  The door opened directly into the lounge and Sharon followed him in. He was wearing a grey suit over a layer of aftershave and the light bounced off his bald head.

  ‘Would you like a drink, ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten.’ He apologised like he meant it, like there were rules here she couldn’t guess at.

  ‘Selina.’

  ‘Ah yes. Selina. Pretty name. Drink Selina?’

  He was more old than ugly. Maybe fifty. A bit fat, though more soft-looking than huge. His face was creased, like he slept with it folded under his pillow, and when he smiled his teeth gave his years away. And he did smile, that was the creepy part. Smiled like it might make a difference, like there was some chance she might grow to like him.

  ‘Ah no thanks.’

  Sharon looked quickly around, trying to see the number pad of the alarm, that Justin had promised would be there. Instead all she could see was a flat box set into the wall by the door. A small key poked out of its slot, and a green light winked slowly above the word ‘unarmed’. Sharon felt another alarm sounding, deep inside her head.

  ‘Is there something wrong Selina?’ Hutton asked, looking like the concerned parent of a friend, but not the sort of friend Sharon would ever bother with.

  ‘Ah, no, not at all,’ Sharon replied.

  ‘Right, well sit down then. It’s a very nice dress by the way. And your eyes. So dark. Well look, I won’t be a moment.’

  He waited for her to sink into the couch then backed across the room, watching her
the whole time. Apart from the main entrance there were three doors leading out of the lounge, all of them closed. He went to the one on the left, and left it open behind him. Sharon felt a coldness prickle over her skin, like it had worked out what was happening and was planning its own escape. She tried not to think what he might be doing there, in the next room. She tried not to think anything.

  Sharon would have moved then, to check out the little box with the key, see whether there might be a number pad inside, but the lights went dim. So dim that at first she thought the power had been cut completely. Then her eyes adjusted. The miniature chandelier above her was still glowing faintly.

  ‘Alright Selina.’ The sound of his voice didn’t travel through the air, the way an ordinary voice might. It came at her along the carpet, crawling up onto her uninvited. Sharon should have known what was happening then, would have, if she’d let herself think about it. But her head was already full, thinking of how it would be, if she let Simon and Justin down. If she failed.

  ‘Come in here.’ A little sharper, like he wasn’t used to waiting.

  Sharon moved to the doorway, still eager not to give the game away.

  Play it cool. There’ll be another chance.

  She knew it was the bedroom before she reached it. She only got a glimpse of him, sitting up on the end of the bed with something in his hand, before the lights went out completely. Proper darkness this time. The sort that tightens your chest with fear, just when your heart needs more room for its crazy beating.

  The new light came as suddenly as the darkness had and was just as frightening. So bright Sharon had to put her hand over her eyes, to stop it blinding her. She realised he was holding a powerful torch and she was trapped in its beam.

  ‘It’s alright. It’s just after the darkness.’

  He spoke soothingly, like she was a child crying herself awake in the middle of a bad dream.

  I wish.

  ‘Your eyes will adjust. Try not to look directly at it.’

  Hutton was no longer there. He was just a voice in the blackness.

  ‘Come forward now. Not too far. That’s right, just two steps and stop.’

  It isn’t going to happen. There’s no fucken way. This was never the deal.

  Anger came fast and hard, images of standing over him, beating his head with that big pervert’s torch. Or taking his creaking body and throwing it out the double windows in the room next door, one last look at his expensive view on the way down. No way. She’d said that, every time Justin had asked. She’d never even pretended. Dinner, that was all.

  ‘What is it dear? What’s wrong? Please, it’s nothing untoward, I assure you. I just want to look at you.’

  Sharon tried to calm down, to get her breath back. She could walk away, now that it wasn’t going the way they’d planned it. Someone had told Simon the wrong thing. No keypad. No dinner. It wouldn’t be her fault. They wouldn’t blame her. They’d understand. She was one step away from turning when she heard the noise. Not loud, but unmistakable. The front door opening. Justin and Simon were in the apartment.

  ‘Okay,’ Sharon said quickly, not sure what to do. There was no time for thinking about how this had happened. It was a time for getting it right in the moment, for surviving. If she could stall him long enough, give them time to be out of there, this could still work out.

  ‘Here?’

  She stepped forward, just like he’d asked.

  ‘That’s right dear.’ The light became his eyes, and she could feel the heat of his stare on her face.

  Just two minutes. Justin said they’d be in and out in two minutes. I can stall, stop anything bad happening for two minutes.

  ‘Now turn around. No, slowly.’

  Slow, that suited her, same as it suited her to be facing the door. She listened carefully but they were silent, the way the person paying them knew they’d be. The only sound was Hutton’s breathing, getting louder, filling up the room.

  ‘Now, very slowly Selina, so slowly that I can hardly see it happening, I want you to remove that dress. Let it fall dear. Let it fall.’

  He was breathing more quickly, losing control of himself, of the whole situation, relying on his bank account to keep him in the game.

  ‘No, don’t step out of the shoes dear. Keep the shoes on.’

  But I won’t be able to run in these.

  Sharon counted time under her breath. A minute had gone by surely. Sixty more seconds and she could go, leave him to his dried-up fantasies. She kept listening, thinking not of Hutton watching but of Justin, who if he could see would be nodding his approval, at the way she kept it together, kept the plan happening.

  ‘What? What was that?’

  Another sound, close, something dropping to the floor. Not so heavy as to be certain but not light enough to go unnoticed.

  ‘What?’ Sharon tried, although her heart was pumping so hard she could feel her head clouding. It was a fight, just to keep breathing.

  ‘That noise.’

  He sounded disorientated, like a person who has been startled from sleep. The torch light moved from side to side. Sharon’s shadow danced on the wall.

  ‘I can’t hear anything.’

  ‘Before.’ But now he sounded uncertain.

  ‘Is this part of it?’ Sharon asked, forcing herself to stay calm. ‘Do you want me to pretend I’m scared?’

  ‘What? No, it isn’t. I just thought I heard something, that’s all.’

  ‘So should I keep going?’

  ‘Yes. No, not quite yet. In a moment. Wait please.’

  He sounded unsettled, like a drunk trying to remember where he’s left his bottle. Sharon waited while the light behind her steadied.

  ‘Turn around then. Take another step forward.’

  She felt the fear return, now she was facing him. So close she could smell him, not just the aftershave that had become a part of the darkness, but another scent beneath it, that told her more than she wanted to know. She was close enough that he could reach out and touch her at any moment, close enough for her to see over the light he held, to make out the dark shape of his head and shoulders. She knew his light would see everything now; the way her lip would tremble if she couldn’t take her mind away, the wet fear on her forehead.

  ‘Now, Selina.’ He paused, letting the name hang in the room, like he had seen right through it. ‘Undress for me.’

  Sharon brought her hands to the thin straps, her last line of defence. She paused.

  Surely they can hear this. Surely they’ll find a way of saving me.

  ‘Come on, don’t be shy.’

  Sharon didn’t hear them, but somehow she knew they were there, standing just behind the doorway, out of sight, waiting.

  Waiting for what? Come on Justin. You can hear this, you know how it’s all gone wrong. So let me know. Give me some signal, so I can get outta here.

  But knowing they were there relaxed her. They wouldn’t let this go too far. They wouldn’t let her get hurt. So she let one strap fall off her shoulder, blocking out everything now, just waiting for the moment, when she could turn and run. She hadn’t stuffed this up. She was doing okay. They’d understand.

  ‘Excellent.’

  Movement in front of her. The torchlight wobbled, and the boys took it as their signal. Bang bang bang, three separate hits, close and violent. Sharon caught the startled look on Hutton’s face, as surprised as she was, as unprepared. The brutal flashes gave his face an unreal glow, wet with sweat, waxy with the shock of it.

  ‘What the…’ But his throat gave out and his lips moved to silence. He let the torch go and it fell to the floor. He was trapped, a possum held in headlights. He didn’t even move to do himself up.

  Sharon turned on the two of them. Justin still had the camera held high, pointed at the two of them, like he was considering letting off another shot. Understanding hit Sharon hard, taking her breath, disconnecting her brain from her body so she was as stuck as Hutton was. Simon stood at Justin’s shoul
der, just a shadow in the darkness, big and ugly and pleased with itself.

  You arseholes. You fucken arseholes.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ Justin told her, but too late.

  Hutton sprang up behind her, and his cold hand had her throat. She twisted away but he was stronger than he looked. He pulled her weight back towards him and his free hand grabbed her arm and pushed it high behind her back. Sharon felt his grip tighten on her throat and her breath was cut down to small painful gasps.

  ‘Give me the camera or I’ll break her neck. I swear I will.’

  His voice told the truth of it. He wasn’t hard, or in control. But he was frightened and he was desperate. Sharon squirmed, trying to loosen the grip, but he only squeezed harder. She looked at Justin and Simon, pleading with her eyes. Justin looked to the ground, like he knew straight away which side he was on. Simon stared straight past her, all his cold violence focussed on the old man.

  ‘You think we give a shit about her?’ he mocked. ‘Do what you like. You can have the photos back later, when you’ve paid for them. We’ll be in touch.’

  Hutton pushed Sharon’s arm hard against her neck and she gasped with the sudden pain ripping through her shoulder.

  ‘Simon, I think we should…’ Justin was caught short by Simon’s hand across the back of his head, hard enough to knock him to the floor.

  ‘I didn’t ask for your opinion.’

  Simon bent down and took the camera from Justin, not once looking at Sharon, like she didn’t even exist.

  ‘You coming?’ he asked his brother.

  Justin didn’t look up either, but his reasons were different. He stood slowly and followed his brother round the corner, like a dog well used to its beatings. Sharon heard the front door slam behind them. She waited for something else to happen, but time had stopped and the silence was filled with both of them thinking how to start it again. Hutton’s hold on her wasn’t any tighter, but it hadn’t relaxed either. She could struggle now, or try to talk to him, or she could do nothing, just wait and react.

  She waited. So did he. The beam of the discarded torch lit a path along the carpet, out the open doorway.