by Danuta Kot
‘Have you finished?’ Paige asked.
‘Not yet. I’ve still got to clear up.’
Paige pulled a face. ‘What do you want to do this for?’ Her gesture encompassed the shabby café, the litter on the floor and the tables, sticky with spilled drinks.
It was another question Becca was asking herself. ‘I need the money.’ But a different answer was close to the surface.
‘Yeah, but . . . there’s lots of ways to get money. You going to do that now?’
Becca hesitated. It looked like Paige wanted to talk. Hannah had advised her about this – They can trust you, Becca. You’re near their age. No one will get upset with you if you leave your work to talk to one of the users who wants something.
She wasn’t sure if Neil would agree, but it made sense to her. There wasn’t much clearing up to do anyway – she could finish off tomorrow morning if she came in a bit early. ‘It can wait,’ she said.
Paige was still watching her, chewing her lip as if she was unsure about something. Her long fair hair hung round her face and tonight she was wearing a denim jacket and a micro skirt over stylishly ripped leggings. Her feet were thrust into ballet slippers. It was Saturday-night clubbing gear, not walking-the-streets dress.
‘Any parties tonight?’ Becca asked, to break the silence.
‘Why? You want to come?’
‘Not really.’ And not to any party in this dump. ‘Where are you going?’
Paige shrugged. ‘Mate’s. So, you got your car?’
‘Not tonight. I’m walking.’
‘I’ll walk with you,’ Paige said.
Becca was surprised, but didn’t say anything as she collected her jacket and her bag. As they were leaving, Alek called her back. ‘I find this,’ he said. ‘Is it yours?’ He was holding up a phone. Becca’s hand flew to her pocket. Her phone was gone.
‘It’s – yeah. I must have . . . Where did you find it?’
‘In the coffee bar. Behind the counter.’
She must have left it there, but she couldn’t remember doing it. All that shit with Liam – it was making her confused. ‘OK. Thanks,’ she said as she took it.
Paige had walked ahead, ignoring Alek, but as Becca went past him he said so quietly she barely heard him, ‘Look after her. Make sure she is safe, all right?’
She looked back at him. ‘What do you . . .?’ But the door was already closing.
Chapter 13
Paige slipped her arm through Becca’s as they walked along the road, her weight a slight drag against their progress. Becca and Ashley used to walk through Leeds city centre like this on a Saturday night, talking, laughing, a bit high and giddy, part of the street life and part of the city vibe.
Here, there was just the empty streets and the darkness.
Paige fished in her bag and pulled out the roll-up. ‘Want some?’
Becca shook her head. She didn’t trust herself with that stuff. Whatever it gave you was fake, but already, after one drag, part of her was missing it. Paige stopped in the shelter of the wall to light up, then they walked on towards the front. The lights from the arcade still flashed out across the harbour.
As they passed by, Becca could see the machines and hear the jangling tunes, the whooshes, the sharp cracks as the lights flashed and rippled. It made the arcade seem busy and full but in the shadows between the consoles, there was just emptiness.
‘Hey, Bex! Paige!’
Becca looked round. It was Liam, standing with a group outside the arcade. A small, dark girl was clinging to his arm, looking at him with wary devotion. He shook her off and moved to stand in their path.
‘What you doing, Paige?’ he said.
‘What’s it to you? Or that slag over there.’ She directed her anger towards the girl. ‘I told you to keep away, bitch!’
‘Yeah, right, it weren’t me who—’
‘Shut up.’ Liam barely raised his voice, but both the girls fell silent. He grinned at Becca. ‘Brought my mates, see? Thought you might like a game, Saturday night an all. Threesomes. Jurassic Park? You might get, you know . . . eaten.’ He grinned. ‘You like that, don’t you?’
Becca could see the group he’d been with watching them, waiting to see how the exchange would go. She could make out Terry’s bulk – she really, really didn’t want a face-off with Terry. ‘Yeah, right, very funny. Come on, Paige.’
‘Wait.’ Paige’s arm dragged her back. Becca felt a stab of something that was part anger, and part something else. Liam frightened her. Out here in his own domain, he wasn’t just a yob. He was dangerous. She knew that. She waited as Paige and Liam had a quick, low-voiced exchange, then, to her relief, Paige turned away.
‘Come on,’ she said again and after a moment, Paige moved on with her. Becca looked back over her shoulder at Liam, who was talking on his phone. She didn’t look back again after that first glance, but her whole body tensed, expecting Liam to come after them.
To her surprise, he didn’t, and they continued along the road until they reached the fingerpost where the road forked and Becca’s route took her towards the train station. She stopped. ‘I go this way. You want to keep away from him.’
‘He’s OK.’ Paige shrugged, taking a final drag.
‘Maybe. For a scumbag.’
Paige laughed. ‘Can I come back with you?’ she said. ‘My mate’s . . . it’s too far. We can, you know, if you want . . .?’ Her fingers moved caressingly up Becca’s back.
‘I don’t want,’ Becca said sharply. ‘But you can come back if you like.’ She tried to imagine what Liam would make of it if he heard Paige had spent the night at hers. Or what Neil would say – he’d been very clear about ‘professional distance’. They talked about it at college all the time, keeping your ‘professional distance’. Well, fuck that, she wasn’t a professional and she wasn’t going to be, not now. She couldn’t leave Paige on the streets. The ‘mate’ didn’t sound either safe or convincing.
‘It’s this way,’ she said.
It was raining more heavily now and the road was dark. Paige was more of a drag on her arm, and Becca slowed down slightly. ‘Are you OK?’
‘It’s cold,’ Paige complained. ‘And my feet hurt.’
That was hardly surprising. The ballet slippers weren’t exactly designed for walking in bad weather. Becca could remember her own evenings, when she and Ashley propped each other up on shoes that were so ridiculous but so much fun . . .
A car was coming along the road behind them, making their shadows stretch out along the pavement. It was slowing, then it was past them and pulling up onto the pavement just as they came alongside.
There were two people inside, she could just make out their shapes – one in the passenger seat and a driver sitting silently behind the wheel, looking away. She tried to pull Paige past, aware of the passenger-side window winding down. ‘Want a lift?’ A male voice. She couldn’t see his face.
‘No.’
‘Nasty night. We’ll take you where you want to go.’
‘Come on!’ She tugged Paige’s arm urgently.
‘Wait.’ Paige had stopped.
‘Come on, Paige.’
Paige pulled back. ‘You’re not the boss of me.’
Becca, frozen, saw the back door of the car move. Just a bit. There was someone in the back seat and they were going to be trapped between the two open doors. Her hand closed round the keys in her pocket, letting the sharp ends protrude. ‘We don’t want a lift. Paige, we’re nearly there. We don’t need a lift. Come on.’
But the friendly Paige, the girl who had been chatting and confiding in her, was gone. She looked at the man leaning out of the car. She looked at Becca. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to the party,’ she said, and before Becca could do anything, she hopped into the back of the car. The door closed smartly behind her and the car pulled away with a squeal of tyres. Becca, still trying to process what she was seeing, saw a face looking out of the front passenger-side window checking the street, checking
her. Male or female? She couldn’t tell. She whipped out her phone and took a picture.
The light cast a shadow across the eyes, like a mask.
Chapter 14
The car reached the end of the road, indicated left and vanished, heading towards the coast road. Becca was frozen with indecision, not knowing what to do – go after the car? Go and get help? It had all happened so quickly, she was still trying to process what she had seen. There had been no threat – Paige had got in the car willingly – but she was in trouble, Becca was sure of that.
She looked at the image on her phone – it was just a silhouette against the light, no detail, nothing. Useless. Someone might recognise the make of the car, but as far as that went, Becca didn’t have a clue.
And what could she have done? Stopped Paige getting in? Paige had made it clear she wasn’t going to listen.
If it had happened a bit closer to the drop-in, she could have gone back and told someone. Alek had asked her to keep an eye on Paige – what did he know about what just happened? Great job she’d done there. But he would have locked up and gone by now.
It was up to her. She could call the police but she knew what they were like with girls like Paige – girls like she had been. Her stepfather had been a policeman.
Tomorrow she could tell someone. But that was tomorrow. Hours away. Right now, Paige could be . . . Becca had to do something.
She looked at her watch. To her surprise, it was only a couple of minutes since Paige had been driven off. The car couldn’t be that far away. If Becca got her own car she could follow the route the other car had taken out along the coast road. And if they’d turned off? Why would they go out towards the coast? There was nothing there.
But it was better than just going back to her flat and doing nothing. If the car hadn’t gone far, she might spot it, might find out where Paige had been taken. She was watching Paige’s back, and that’s what she was here for.
And then . . .?
She shook her head impatiently. She’d sort that out if she needed to.
The rain was falling again, heavier than before, reflecting from the pavements, making it harder to see. It stung her face as she hurried along the street, her feet splashing in the puddles. The night was silent apart from the falling rain and a distant foghorn. The rain played tricks with the sound so it was hard to tell where it was coming from. Someone laughed – ahead of her? No, behind her. She heard the muffled sound of glass breaking, then more laughter, and then the street was quiet again.
She reached the side street and felt herself relax as she saw the shape of her car. She’d feel safer once she was inside it. She took out her keys and went to unlock the driver’s door before she realised.
The windows were shattered and one of the tyres was slashed.
Chapter 15
The pub just down the road from the caravan site was busy. Even in winter, Flamborough attracted serious walkers and birdwatchers. Jared found a table, then ordered food and a pint at the bar. The beer went down so well that the pint became two, then three.
He got back into his car with a sense of wellbeing he’d half expected never to feel again.
It didn’t last. It hadn’t been such a good idea after all – not all at once. He had to pull in on the lane and drag himself out, just managing to get clear before he lost the lot – the food, the beer – in a sudden upheaval into the hedgerow that left him cold and dizzy.
After a few minutes, he felt better and got back behind the wheel, rummaging in the pockets for some water to rinse his mouth out. The rocking motion of the car as he drove onto the track through the site made him want to heave again but he managed to keep it under control.
He stopped outside the caravan and climbed heavily out of his car. Immediately, the familiar noise from the other side of the site – shouts, screams, pounding music – almost overwhelmed him. Fuck! Who were these guys?
He’d felt so good earlier, and now he felt like shit, but at least he knew why. He was drunk, hammered, rat-arsed for the first time since . . . when? He told himself it was OK. He’d feel better soon. It was familiar territory.
As he stood outside the caravan, digging in his pocket for his keys, something flashed past him on the track, almost knocking him off his feet. Bikers. Again. Two guys on mountain bikes vanished into the darkness. Fucking idiots. Were there any more around?
He couldn’t find his fucking keys. Had he dropped them when the bikers made him jump back? Or when he got out of the car earlier? Maybe down the pub? Oh, Jesus, he really wasn’t up for this. His head was starting to ache and his stomach was acid and churning.
You’re in a bad way, mate. It was his own voice, his own internal commentator chipping in far too late in the day to tell him something he already knew, thanks; that he couldn’t fix himself long-term with booze and painkillers. If he wanted to be well again, something needed to change.
Tomorrow. He’d think about it tomorrow.
The noise from across the site showed no signs of abating. Great – no sleep tonight. It reminded him of his return from the tunnel when, mazed by cold and shock, he’d struggled to get himself safely into shelter; in pain, exhausted, while other people were blazing it up a few hundred metres away. How long was it since he’d enjoyed a party?
Not since Charlie . . . Ah, screw that. Fuck it. Sideways.
The voices of memory chattered away into silence. He stood there breathing slowly, letting the landscape absorb him.
The moon hung bright in a clear sky, turning the rutted tracks into patterns of deep shadow and light, the caravans making blocks of darkness against the night sky. He realised the noise from the party had stopped, then there was a sudden burst of sound, someone screamed, a door banged and a car engine revved up.
Fucking hell.
Key. He needed his key. If he’d dropped it . . . He sat on the upturned crate and began searching his pockets in earnest. After a couple of minutes’ fumbling he found it. For some reason he’d put it in his top pocket. Holding it with exaggerated care, he stood up and attempted to line it up with the keyhole.
And someone came flying out of the darkness towards him. She – it was a girl – skidded to a halt in front of him. ‘Let me in! They’re coming.’
He stared at her, fuddled, trying to make sense of what she was saying. She grabbed his arm and shook it. ‘Let me in!’
Her face hung in the shadows in front of him, barely illuminated by the moonlight. She was wearing a mask – no, the flesh round her eyes was bruised, discoloured – his mind struggled to interpret what he was seeing. Her mouth was moving and something dark was flowing from it – she was saying something but the words were slurred and indistinct.
‘My key,’ he said. ‘I can’t . . .’ He snapped awake to the urgency of the situation. She needed help. He pushed the key into the lock, juggling with it, cursing its awkwardness. He could feel the girl’s hand clutching at his arm. He could hear her voice muttering something frantically as she looked back over her shoulder.
Somewhere quite close a car engine roared. His fingers were clumsy with panic.
Her hands gripped at him and now she was making a sound halfway between a choke and a sob.
Then the door swung open and he fell in, turned and grabbed for her to pull her inside.
But she had gone.
In front of him, like a still from a movie, lights illuminated the side of the van. He stared from the darkness as the girl, caught in the glare, flattened herself against it, her eyes wide. And then she turned and ran.
He saw her vanish into the darkness across the field. The engine roared as the car swung round. Someone jumped out and ran after her, the car following along the lane.
Jared cursed his drunken, crippled state – he had to follow, but he could barely walk, never mind run. He grabbed a torch and set off after the girl and her pursuers. His feet slipped in the mud. He fell, smacking his head against something – then he was pulling himself to his feet, running again.
Then the screaming started. Across the site, the far end of the field? He couldn’t tell, but she was screaming.
Oh, Jesus, what could he . . .
Police. He could call them, get them here.
He had to stop to pull his phone out, jabbing 999 into the keypad, then he was running again, the phone held to his ear.
Emergency, which services?
He wanted to shout and swear, but he knew he had to give them the information as fast as he could. ‘Police. Quick! Someone’s getting . . .’ He ran between the caravans, trying to locate the sound, but her scream suddenly cut off with an abruptness that was terrifying.
He heard the car engine roar again.
Shit! She was somewhere on the site and he was floundering around in the mud. ‘This girl, she – she was running away from someone. She was hurt. Bleeding. She asked me to help her.’ His breath was giving out. ‘I . . . I could hear her . . . screaming, but . . .’ He listened. Silence.
‘And what’s happening now?’ The voice was infuriatingly calm.
‘She needs someone, fast. You’ve got to get someone here!’
‘Yes, sir, I’ve dispatched a car, but I need more information.’
‘Nothing. Nothing’s happening. It’s quiet. I can’t find her. They’ve got a car; they might have her in the car.’ His breath was coming in ragged gasps. Maybe there was someone else here, from the party, someone else who could – no, the party had to be where she came from.
Keep away from the party.
He was back on the track now. He’d come in a wide circle almost back to his starting point. The site gate was just ahead of him. Somehow, somewhere in the darkness, he’d lost her.
He limped on through the gate and onto the road. He was pretty sure the car must have gone this way. How long would it take the police to get here – would they come from Bridlington? Or would it be from Scarborough? He couldn’t leave it – he had to keep looking.
Clouds had covered the moon. The road was a black emptiness. He staggered forwards, shining his torch onto the surface, into the darkness ahead. Nothing. There was nothing there.