Blood Rush (Lilly Valentine) (24 page)

JC nudges the door shut with her hip. ‘Keep the animals out.’

Demi laughs nervously.

‘I don’t joke, sister,’ says JC. ‘This is a zoo and we provide our animals with what they need, but they have to stay in their cages.’

Demi gulps and places the shoe box on the table. ‘Danny asked me to bring this.’

JC flicks it open with her thumb. She wears a huge watch so loose that it sits on her hand and not her wrist. The movement makes it rattle. She peers into the box, as if she’s checking.

‘It’s all there,’ says Demi. ‘Everything Danny gave me.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’ JC smiles at her. ‘But you know how it is.’

Demi has no idea how it is. She can’t imagine anyone having the nerve to try to cheat someone like Danny. As if reading her mind, JC gives a chuckle.

‘You’d be surprised how very foolish some youngers can be.’

Satisfied, she closes the box and reaches under her tracksuit top for a key on a chain. She squats and uses it to open a cupboard that has been padlocked shut. Her top rides up to reveal the silver handle of a gun resting in her waistband. This time, Demi isn’t shocked. Anyone would need protection in a place like this.

On a shelf inside the cupboard, where there might once have been tins of baked beans, are rolls of bank notes. JC peels off a few and re-locks it.

She holds the notes out to Demi. ‘For your trouble, sister.’

There are four twenties, but Demi doesn’t know if she should take them. ‘Danny didn’t mention money.’

JC takes a step forward and presses them into her hand. ‘He didn’t need to. We are none of us doing this for the fun, eh?’

Gratefully, Demi pockets the notes. ‘I’d better be off.’

JC smiles again and they move out of the kitchen to the front door. As they reach the first room, Demi can’t resist another peep inside. The girl is still asleep on the stained mattress but the boy is standing, his back turned to the door, his hand on the wall for support. The gurgling sound of a bottle filling tells Demi she was right. The bottles in the corner are filled with piss.

Outside, Demi takes a greedy lungful of fresh air. The dog is snapping at a group of Asian women on the other side of the road. They pull their head scarves under their chins and hurry along.

‘So you got Chika’s job now?’ The man wraps the lead around his hand twice.

‘No,’ Demi says. ‘She’s just busy right now.’

The man gives one of those long, slow, continuous nods. ‘If you say so, sister.’

* * *

The chief super cleaned the handset of his telephone with an
antibacterial
wipe. Sometime last year Jack had received a packet. Every copper in the nick had. Hell, every copper in the land for all Jack knew. They’d come inside a glossy information pack about desk hygiene. Apparently, research had shown that
telephones
harboured more germs than toilet seats. Jack doubted that the author of the report in question had ever seen the toilets in Lilly’s cottage. Or in his own flat, for that matter. Either way, Jack had filed the pack in the bin and the wipes had long since been buried under a mountain of paperwork. The chief super was the only person Jack had ever seen actually using them.

The chief ran the corner of the wipe around the key pad with his thumbnail. ‘What happened, Jack? What went wrong?’

He was referring to the bail application, of course.

‘The girl’s pregnant.’ Jack shrugged. ‘When the judge heard that, she wasn’t prepared to let her stay in jail.’

The chief dropped his wipe in the bin and replaced the receiver carefully. ‘Ridiculous.’

Jack didn’t answer. After hearing Chika recounting the night of Malaya’s attack, both in his car and again in court, he was
convinced
Tanisha was guilty, but he wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to send her back inside. He’d once had the misfortune to accompany a terrorist to the birth of his son, in a high security unit. The woman, accused of harbouring her husband from the RUC and the British Army, had been handcuffed to the bed throughout. Watching her try to push while unable to move had been heartbreaking. When the terrorist wept, Jack didn’t know if it was in joy at the sight of his first born, or in pity for his poor wife.

‘This girl is a risk to the public,’ said the chief.

‘There are pretty tight restrictions attached to her bail,’ Jack replied.

‘And if she breaches them even once, we come down on her like a ton of bricks.’ The chief reached for another wipe and began cleaning his fountain pen. ‘In the meantime, we prepare our case against her scrupulously.’

Jack nodded. He had Chika’s statement. He had the film. He had Tanisha’s taped denial.

‘I’m going to speak to the victim again, she might be well enough to talk to me properly by now.’

The chief squinted at his pen, as if searching for errant microbes. ‘You do that, Jack. Whatever it takes, we must ensure this girl is punished.’

Jamie lifts the net curtain and peers outside, but the layer of grime is so thick he can only see outlines. He licks his finger and rubs in a circle until there’s a small porthole in the dirt. Now he can see the guy with that horrible dog talking to a young black girl.

Trick leans over his shoulder, his breath sharp in Jamie’s nostrils.

‘I’ll get supplies,’ he beams, showing his brown teeth.

Relief floods over Jamie. The taste in the park has started to wear off and he really isn’t comfortable in this place.

When Trick brought them here, and they were terrorized by the pit bull, Jamie almost ran away. Only the promise of more meth and a quiet spot to take it, made him sidestep the jaws
dripping
with saliva.

He pulls out the last of his money and slaps it into Trick’s
outstretched
palm, then watches him scuttle off to score. Without Trick, the room is silent and still. They’re on the third floor where, according to Trick, no one can be arsed to come. From the floor below, Jamie can hear talking and footsteps. Outside the dog is barking.

Jamie puts his hands over his ears and crouches. On the
window
sill beside him is a syringe and a blackened spoon. Clearly some people do make it up the creaking stairs.

At last, he hears the thud of Trick’s return and he smiles as Trick bursts into the room and joins him by the window. Trick tries to clear away some of the rubbish with his foot, dragging the toe of his trainer against the used matches and empty lighters. Satisfied, he kneels.

Quickly, they prepare their drugs and inhale.

Instantly, the cloud of uncertainty lifts and Jamie’s shoulders relax. As smoke streams out of his mouth he looks around the room and can see now that it’s not that bad. A bit mucky, but then his dorm at school is no
Homes & Gardens.
Trick gives him one of his cheeky grins and once again they’re both laughing.

‘You should see the bird downstairs, serving up,’ Trick snorts. ‘When I say bird, I can’t actually be sure.’

‘What d’you mean?’ Jamie asks.

‘She’s dressed just like a geezer, with a shaved head and that.’

‘How do you know it’s not a man?’

Trick draws a pair of breasts with his hands and gives a whistle. Jamie cracks up and leans against his friend for support. They giggle together for what seems like for ever. As soon as he stops, Trick sets him off again.

At last, Trick gives a long contented sigh. ‘You got a girlfriend, mate?’

‘No,’ Jamie murmurs. ‘You?’

‘Don’t think anyone would have me.’ Trick’s laughter turns into a wracking cough.

Jamie claps him on the back. ‘Of course they would.’

Trick wipes his sleeve across his mouth, leaving a trail of bloody mucus. He turns his head and looks into Jamie’s eyes. ‘You’re a good person to say that.’

‘I mean it.’

Trick gives a small smile, the cracked teeth now tinged with red. Then he leans forward and puts his mouth to Jamie’s. In the darkness and the stench, among the filth and the dirty needles, they kiss. And it is the sweetest kiss Jamie has ever had in his life.

The glass of sauvignon blanc was cold and spritely, the onion tart hot and oozing. Lilly let them both salve her frazzled mind and body. She re-read Jack’s text for the umpteenth time and smiled. Tanisha had been granted bail. Tonight she would sleep in a proper bed that wasn’t bolted to the floor, safe under Annabelle’s protection.

No doubt Tanisha would instruct another solicitor who would help her through the trial. Lilly had done her job to the best of her ability and could do no more.

When she had finished the last creamy bite of tart, she pushed the plate aside and poured herself another glass of wine.

There was of course an upside to being sacked. A few, if truth be told. She could spend more time with Alice and Sam. She might also be able to salvage something with Jack.

At this point, Lilly paused. She did want to make their
relationship
easier. They were Alice’s parents and being at war was never going to help matters. But did she want more than that? The longer she considered it, the more she couldn’t help
thinking
about Karol and how attractive she found him.

She told herself to stop being so idiotic, drained her glass and headed off for her own bed.

Demi’s at school. She’s been here all day.

Last night the head called Gran and asked if Demi was okay.

‘I know Malaya’s accident must be upsetting her greatly.’

Gran tried to point out that what happened to Malaya was no accident, but the head was already banging on about unauthorized absences and OFSTED reports.

‘If Demi has to have any more time off, she will need a doctor’s note.’

Demi expected fireworks. She thought Gran would hit the roof, dragging up all the stuff from the past, telling Demi how she’s wasting her chances. Instead she just sat quietly, shaking her head.

‘I’m worn out, Demi,’ and she looked it. ‘I can’t fight with you any more.’

This was worse than a row. Much worse. If Gran had started shouting at least Demi could have yelled back about how horrible school is. How none of the lessons make any sense, and the teachers ignore her, and the other pupils pick on her, and they steal her bus money so she has to walk home in the rain.

But Gran didn’t shout. She cried. So Demi cried too and said she was sorry and promised to go to school.

Nothing changes. Mrs Patel is droning on about fractions and decimal points. She sounds like a bee in summer, climbing up and down a pane of glass, trying to escape. At the end of the
lesson
she collects the maths homework set last week, but doesn’t bat an eyelid when Demi just shrugs.

‘Hand it in tomorrow, Demi,’ she says.

Yeah, right.

She catches sight of Georgia in the corridor, surrounding some other poor sod with her cronies. They’re joking and laughing in her face. Demi thinks about intervening, but she can’t be arsed. She doesn’t know the girl. She isn’t family.

By lunchtime, Demi’s had enough. She gets changed in the toilets and heads out of the gate. Anyone could see her but she doesn’t care.

When she reaches Dirty Mick’s, she peers through the window. Her heart soars at the sight of Chika nursing a Coke. She bounds inside and throws herself into the chair opposite.

‘Wanna get your nails done?’ Demi asks.

Chika splays her hands on the table. Her fingernails are bitten short, the nail varnish chipped. ‘I’m brassic.’

Demi pulls out some cash. ‘I’m not.’

‘Where you get that?’

‘I dropped that parcel to Danny, like you said, and he asked me to do another delivery for him to Solomon Street.’

Chika barks with laughter. ‘Man, that place is a serious dump.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Demi smiles. ‘It’s like that film
Evil Dead
.’

‘Yeah, the Army of fucking Darkness.’

Still in stitches, they wander down the street to American Nails. Demi has no idea what’s American about it, since everyone that works in there is Vietnamese. The receptionist hands them a board. Fifty or so fake nails are stuck to it, each with its own design. Demi likes the one with a sunset, Chika points to the one
sporting
a gold dollar sign.

‘How much for a full set?’ she shouts.

It’s funny how people do that. Shout when someone can’t speak English. It’s not like they’re deaf, is it? You’d think Chika would get that.

Soon, they’re sat side by side at the nail bar, their hands
invisible
inside the dryers.

‘I should go see Malaya,’ says Demi.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Chika replies.

Demi pulls her hands free and admires her manicure. A riot of oranges and yellows. She gestures to the receptionist.

‘Can I get one of dem.’ She nods at the tiny tooth jewels, lined up like shards of coloured glass.

Outside, she grins at Chika, showing off the new ‘ruby’ glued to her tooth. She runs her tongue over it, pleased by its sharpness.

‘You really one of us now, sister,’ says Chika.

At the bus stop, they make their plans. They’ll visit Malaya then go back to Clayhill. A bit of dealing and then there’s a party in some warehouse. The other girls are heading up there. It’ll be a laugh.

They’re interrupted by Chika’s mobile phone. She reads an incoming text, her face dropping.

‘Everything all right?’ Demi asks.

Chika nods. ‘Everything’s cool. I just gotta take care of a bit of business. I’ll meet you at the hospital in an hour.’

Demi gets on the number forty-six and takes a seat at the back. As it pulls away, she watches Chika, head down, hunched over her phone, texting. When she’s almost out of sight, Chika briefly looks up and they catch each other’s eye. Then the bus turns the corner.

Malaya’s hand was heavy in Jack’s, her skin hot.

‘She looks much better,’ he commented to Mrs Ebola, who was fussing with a vase of flowers.

She gave a tight smile. ‘Mr Stephenson says she is getting there.’