One of Us (16 page)

There was a long pause. Daniel stared at me. “So something
was
going on. Obviously nothing that you trusted me with.” He sounded hurt.

“I wanted to tell you, Daniel, I did, but...” I could not think what to say. I did not want to tell him that Sean and Elena would not let me confide in him. I did not want to say that I had not argued very hard with this.

“Yeah well, your call. You know, what’s it to me? I mean, why should you tell me. Your life, after all.”

“We...we had a plan.”

“Jesus,” he said. “Tell me no.”

“We thought...if we could get evidence that Budden was working with Corgan...”

Daniel stood up, walked up and down a few steps, like he had to move but he did not know where he wanted to go. “You stupid girl, you stupid, stupid girl, Anna, I can’t believe—what the fuck were you thinking of? You have no idea what you’re into here. Christ. What were you going to do? With this evidence?”

“Well, I thought Lomax would be interested,” I said. “But—”

“Lomax? Oh man, this just gets worse. Why didn’t you talk to
me
, Anna? Not to your fucking idiot mate who cooks burgers and knows nothing that he hasn’t seen on the fucking telly? Christ, look at the three of you. You, you know how much I think of you, and I know you’ve had a hard time, but you’re a student, Anna, a fucking student, and then there’s psychoboy, and some junkie tart who’ll lie through her teeth to get what she wants, and the three of you, you think you can take on Corgan, even think about fucking around with the Ukrainian’s business?”

He shook his head in disgust, cupping his face in his hands as if he could not even look at me.

“We had to do something,” I said. “Elena, they were killing her—”

“Well, you fucking sorted that one, didn’t you?”

We stood in silence. My cheeks were as red as if they had been slapped. I wanted to shout at him, swear at him, push him in the chest, but I could not, because he was right.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. “That was out of order. Oh, Anna. You should have talked to me. I could have helped. I could have helped you get it right.”

“I wish I had,” I said. “I wish it had all been different. But I did not. It was not. And she is dead.” I cried then, all inside at first, shaking where I stood like I was getting an electric shock. Then Daniel stepped forward and he wrapped his arms around me, and he pulled me close into him, and then I really cried, great shaking sobs. I cried for Elena, I cried for Sean. I cried for myself.

Later, we sat on his couch. Daniel had made me tea, very sweet, because his grandmother had told him to do this when someone was upset or had a shock. I drank small sips of it, because it was so sweet that if I had drunk more I would have been sick. I had stopped crying a while back, and Daniel had unfolded me from his arms, and said gently, “You know, bathroom’s through there, yeah? If you want to,” and I did, and when I came out I had washed my face and got my breath back and Daniel was in the kitchen making my tea, and by the time he came back in, I could speak again.

“Who did kill her, Daniel?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “And I’m telling you now, I’m not about to ask.”

I had thought a lot about who had killed Elena. At first I thought that Corgan had discovered our plan, but I realised that this could not be the case. If he had, he would have made Elena tell him everything that she knew. And if she had, I would not be sitting here now, with Daniel, and Sean would not have the recording. It could have been Budden, but I had spoken to Elena after he had left. I did not think that it could just have been a random crime. Too much coincidence. It had to be to do with our plan. Which meant that whoever had killed her, it was my fault.

“I saw her, you know,” I said, after a moment or two, and Daniel frowned.

“Elena. Dead.”

Daniel’s eyes widened. “You were there?”

I nodded. “Me and Sean.”

“Jesus.”

“Budden had been the night before. So we went to get the recording,” I said.

“Recording?” Daniel said, very quietly.

I took a sip of my tea. “I know you think that we were stupid kids,” I said. “But we did have a plan. Even if it was a shit one.”

“You taped Budden, what...with her?”

“That was our plan. Sean bought this recorder, when you speak it started automatically. Budden liked to boast, when he was...when he was with Elena. About how important he was. He drank, and did God knows what else, so his tongue was already loose. And to him, Elena was nothing, no-one. So he boasted about how important he was, made Elena tell him that back, while all the time he hurt her. She was going to try and get him to talk about Corgan, and it would all be there, there on the recording.”

Daniel wiped at his mouth as if he was worried there was a smear of food there. “And this machine, did you get it? When you went, and found Elena. Was it there?”

I laughed, even though it was not funny. “Yeah, it was still there. Whoever killed Elena, I do not think that they even knew it was there. Or they would have taken it, wouldn’t they?”

“Christ. And have you got it? Did you take it? Does Budden say what it was you needed to get...what?”

I was laughing again. It still was not funny. “I do not know,” I said. “I do not know what Budden said.”

“You didn’t take it? Oh fuck, what a waste—”

“I didn’t take it,” I said.

Daniel was about to say something, but he stopped, looked at me.

“Yes,” I said. “Sean took it.”

He didn’t react for a little while. Then he sat back, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked at me and grinned. “Shit.”

“Yeah. And without the recording, Lomax won’t do anything. He is too afraid.”

Daniel stared at me. “Tell me I heard that wrong.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Tell me you’re winding me up.”

“It is no big deal,” I said. “I went to see him. I asked for money. He was interested, but without the evidence he is scared it is a set-up. No recording, no deal. I asked him to help me find Sean, but he would not. He wants me to do it all, then bring him the recording.”

Daniel shook his head. “Just when I think you can’t do anything more stupid. You went to see Lomax? On your own?”

“It had to be done.”

I drank my tea, Daniel sat and watched me.

“Do you miss him?” he said after a while. “Sean.”

“Yes, yes I do. I am surprised you ask, though.”

“Why?”

“You don’t like him. Never did.”

Daniel made a face. “I guess. But—well. I don’t know him. Don’t suppose I would like him that much if I did, from what I know of him. But a lot of it, you know, it’s not really personal with him, it’s about...”

“Me?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Boys, eh?”

“I wish you two had got on,” I said. “Without all this bullshit about who was the big monkey. Apart from anything else, it made me cross. Like, you two just thought whoever won got me, no matter what I think. And how do you think that makes me feel?”

“Mmm. Point taken. Look, like I said, he’s never going to be my best friend, is he? But you...Anna, you must know what you mean to me. I can see what him disappearing is doing to you. And being blunt, if Corgan finds him first, he’s fucked. And so are you. We’ve got to find Sean, Anna. We’ve got to find him first.”

“I’ve been looking,” I said. “But I don’t know what to do.” I felt the sting of tears again. Daniel moved along the couch, sitting closer to me, but not too close. He put a hand on my shoulder.

“Well now it’s the two of us,” he said. “And not boasting, but I’m fucking good. I know people, places. We’ll find him, Anna. I’ll help you. Not for him. But for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, I put my hand on his. His skin was very warm. “I have felt so alone.”

“You’re not,” he said. Our fingers moved so that they lay tight between each other. I breathed. Time slowed. Daniel leant forward, never taking his eyes from mine. I reached up with my other hand, touched a finger to his lips.

“Not now,” I said, and my voice was a croak because of all the crying, but not just because of that.

Daniel kissed my finger, very gently. “You need it,” he said.

“I do,” I said. “But I cannot. Not now, when things are like this.”

“Stop here if you want,” Daniel said, and his voice was not steady and I do not think it was the drink. The distance between us on the couch did not seem like very far. “No pressure, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But I should not.”

“There’s no better time.”

“There is. Please. It is not no. It is maybe sometime. Just not now.”

He made a face like I had just said something obscene about his mother, shrugged and slumped back on the couch. “Promises, promises,” he said, and his voice was so bitter that I was shocked. He had sounded like a sulky child.

“Daniel,” I said.

He took a breath, rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice normal. And then he grinned again, Daniel back. “Got to try, haven’t you. Right, I need to make some phone calls. And you need to think.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Pizza boxes came sliding through from the kitchen. I checked the orders, and put them on the counter. Asif came skidding in through the door of the shop, his insulated bags flapping empty.

“These just come out?” he said.

“Yes, a minute or less.”

“Good, they’ll keep for a minute. Got to send a couple of messages to a mate.” He fiddled with his mobile phone, stabbing at buttons. I am not sure which Asif would miss more, his car or his mobile. Losing them both would be like losing his legs, his mouth and ears. He laughed at something that he had written, and then pressed send and turned to collect the pizzas.

“And now back out into the badlands,” he said. “Wish me luck. Got a delivery in that block of flats down by the old town moor. Be lucky to get out of there with me nuts, never mind a tip.”

“Asif, you drive all over the city,” I said. “Can you watch out for Sean? Tell me if you see him?”

“So what’s up with Seany-boy?” Asif said. “Thought he’d just had enough of this place. Always thought he could do better than this, he was a smart lad. You lost touch with him then?”

“Sort of,” I said. “I have lost him altogether.”

“Oh, I see,” Asif said, in a voice that said that he did not see at all.

“Not like that,” I said. “He is my friend, Asif.”

“No offence,” Asif grinned. “Two of you were always close, like. So where’s he gone?”

“If I knew that, he would not be lost.”

“True enough. So you’ve not seen him?”

“Not since he left here. He left his flat, everything.”

“Serious?” Asif whistled.

“There are some people after him,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Bad people, Asif. Very bad people.”

He whistled again. “So Sean’s on the run. What the hell has he done to end up like that? Didn’t seem the sort to get mixed up with that sort of thing. Always reading books and that.”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “And you don’t want to know.”

“Take your word for it. Fucking hell. On the run, eh? Wicked. Course I’ll look out for him, if I’d seen him anyway I’d have stopped for a chat, see if he wanted a lift or something.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And if you can think of anyone who might know where he is...”

“Family?”

“Don’t know where to start. I do not think he has seen them in years. He did not talk about them much.” I had got the impression that Sean’s family were as lost to him, as mine were to me. Even if his were still living.

“Friends?”

“None that I can think of,” I said. “Other than you and me. I do not think that Sean had a lot of friends.”

“Yeah, quiet lad, kept himself to himself. Shy, really. Who’d have thought it? Mixed up with bad boys. Dark horse.”

“So if you think of anything, anything at all...”

“Course. Will tell you right off. And if I see him, I’ll get him in the car, and I’ll drive him straight back here to see you. Fuckers can wait for their pizzas a bit, would do most of ’em good, you should see the size of some of them.”

“Thanks, Asif.”

“No worries.”

He slid the pizzas into his bags that kept them warm, and picked the pile up from the counter. He turned away to walk out of the door, and then he stopped and came back.

“There is one person I can think of. Haven’t seen her for ages.”

“Her?” I said, and then I wondered why I had. Did it matter if it was a she?

“Yeah, little mouse of a girl, bit of a goth, know what I mean? They have them in your part of the world? White face, dark eyes, big fuck-off boots, long jumpers and short skirts, you name it, it’s pierced. Know the sort of thing I mean?”

“I do,” I said. “We did have one or two in our part of the world.”

“Can’t see the attraction myself, but live and let live, innit. Anyway, this girl, Tracy, Theresa? Tessa. That’s it, Tessa. Her and Sean used to go to some meeting together, every week, back when he was working days. I used to give him a lift at the end of his shift if I had any deliveries out that way, and after a few times, he asked if I’d stop and pick up Tessa, wasn’t much out of the way, so no problem. Like a little mouse she was, always eyes down, only speak when spoken to. Truth be told, felt like she was afraid of me, know what I mean? Made me feel like a proper bastard, even though I hadn’t done anything.”

“Asif, you are wonderful. Can you remember where you used to take them?”

“Nah, sorry, can’t even remember what road it was,” he said. And then he laughed. “But I can remember where I picked her up. Could hardly forget. One of the D-streets, up the hill behind the station. Dunno which, but you can’t miss hers, it’s painted all weird, like a fucking demon, man.” He laughed at the memory.

“Asif!” Peter bellowed out of the back. “How come I can still hear your voice, when those pizzas were up five minutes ago?”

“I’m gone, I’m gone,” Asif yelled back. “Problem with one of the boxes. All sorted now.” He pulled a face at me, grinned, and then picked up the bag with the pizza boxes in and charged out of the door. A few seconds later the door flew open again. “Didcot Terrace. Sure it is.” Then he was gone again, and I heard an engine revving, and then the screech of tyres. It was not much, but at least I had something. A chance of finding Sean, or finding someone who might know where he had gone.

Peter came out from the kitchen. “If he didn’t waste so much time, he wouldn’t need to drive so fast.”

“He would drive that fast even if he had all the time in the world,” I said. “Peter, sorry. Please may I use the telephone?”

He waved a hand at me, and I went into Peter’s office and phoned the number I had on a scrap of paper.

“Daniel?” I said. “It’s me. When I finish this afternoon, can you pick me up? I have somewhere for us to look.”

~

Drivers laughed and joked and smoked in the doorway of a taxi firm, a florist tidied black plastic buckets of flowers in front of her shop and looked up at the skies, as if to gauge how long the rain would last. The shops looked cheap, and none of them were names that I knew, but they bustled with business. We walked for about ten minutes, and the shops became more run-down, and one side of the road turned into a graveyard for cars.

“This’ll be where mine’ll end up,” Daniel said, making a grumpy face. “If I can’t get it sorted.” His car was in the garage, so we had to walk. Daniel was not impressed with the idea of walking, and trailed along behind me like a sulky boy. He had wanted to get a cab, but I told him it was a waste of money and besides, it would do him good to walk.

We followed the railings along a little further, but the road just lead to the grey, swollen river and a series of squat rusting metal huts. I sighed. “We’ve come the wrong way.”

“Don’t blame me.”

“You said turn right. I thought it was left. But you said right, you said no, no, it was right for sure.”

“What am I, an A to Z? Believe it or not, I don’t hang out in this charming neighbourhood that often.”

I pulled my coat collar up—which did no good as I was wet through already—and we walked back the way that we had come. The same men still laughed and joked and smoked in the doorway of the taxi company. After a few minutes further on we passed a large building which offered us the greatest furniture deals we would ever see. Each window was covered with a graphic of a wizard, waving his staff, and the stars which came off it were all tiny sofas and chairs and tables. “It’s Magic!” a sign said. Outside the front door, a man in a wizard’s costume stood smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. The rain bounced off the brim of his hat, keeping his cigarette dry, but the point of his hat drooped sadly.

He saw us looking and shrugged. “Magic, eh?”

“It looks it,” Daniel said.

“Worse than it looks,” he said. “Still, it’s money.” He dropped his cigarette, and it hissed out on the wet pavement. The wizard lifted a hand in farewell, and went and stood back inside the door, waiting for someone to come in. The shops soon gave way to rows of small houses. The houses were small, tiny front gardens full of weeds and old pieces of prams. Everything was very close together. There was not much room on the pavement at times, because cars were parked up and half across it.

We reached a junction, and I looked around for a street sign. I was not going to ask Daniel which way he thought was the right way. There was a street sign across the road, but it had been broken in the middle, and only the ends remained. But I could see that the first letter was D, so I thought that I must be in the right place.

“This way,” I said, sounding more confident than I was. We passed a launderette with dead flies in the window and one old woman in, sitting staring at the machine. A little way further down the street was a small shop, with one window full of sweets in jars, and the other full of posters, handwritten on orange paper, showing the price of cigarettes.

“I am going to ask,” I said. I pushed the door open, and a little bell chimed. A very fat woman looked up from behind the counter.

“Hello,” I said.

She looked at me for a moment, not saying anything. I could hear the sound of her laboured breathing. “Yes?” she said in the end. She was sat behind a counter that looked as if it had been handmade from pieces of kitchen units that were not needed any more.

“I’m looking for Didcot Terrace,” I said.

“Well, you won’t find it in here,” she said. “You buying anything?”

I looked at the bars of chocolate laid out on the counter, the crisps stacked in their cardboard boxes. Some of the chocolate was dusty.

“No,” I said.

She let out a breath that was half sigh, half hiss.

“That way,” she said, gesturing with one hand, but not even looking in my direction.

“Thank you,” I said, and we left her with the silence and the dust.

A sign at the end of Didcot Terrace announced that it had been chosen for an urban renewal project. Someone had written ‘Jackson = grass cunt’ across it in black marker pen. Half the houses had boarded up windows. It was very easy to see which house was Tessa’s. Someone had painted the window sills different colours, bright reds and blues. The door was sea green. Around the letterbox, a fiery mouth had been painted, like that of a demon. The house stood out in the street, where everything else was faded and peeling.

“Hmmm,” Daniel said. “Wonder which one it is.”

“When we get in,” I said. “You shush. Let me talk.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

I just looked at him. Then I rang the door bell.

Deep within the house, something clattered. There was silence for a moment or two, and then footsteps. “Who is it?” a man’s voice called.

“My name is Anna,” I said. “I am here with my friend Daniel, I need to see Tessa.”

There was a rattle of a chain, and the click of a bolt being undone, and the door opened. A young man peered out with red eyes. He had dreadlocks down to below his shoulders, and wore a pair of army trousers and nothing else.

“You don’t look like you’re any kind of anything,” he said, swaying slightly.

“Thank you,” I said. Daniel coughed but didn’t say anything.

“Nah, no, didn’t mean any offence,” he said, gesturing with an arm to show how sorry he was, and staggering a little to the side to follow it. “Any kind of someone I wouldn’t want to open the door to, know what I mean.”

“I do,” I said. “I think. And I am not offended.” Daniel might be, I thought, but as long as he kept quiet that was not important.

“Cool. Um, look, Tessa’s out. Dunno how long she’ll be, but I reckon not more than an hour or so.”

“Oh,” I said. “OK.”

“You can wait if you like,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. “I think we will.” I walked back down the little path to the road. Daniel stood where he was. The man in the doorway laughed.

“Inside, I meant,” he said. “If you want, that is. Up to you.”

“Thank you,” I said. It had started to rain again. If I had been alone, I probably would have still gone in. My mother would not have liked me going alone into houses with stoned and half-naked young men, but my mother had died when I was six, and I had been in many houses with stoned young men since then, some of them more than half-naked. He seemed harmless enough, and if he was like many of the boys I had known the biggest threat would be playing the same metal album over and over to see if I could hear the voices in the background. Still, I was not alone. I walked towards the house. Daniel glanced at the man who had opened the door, rolled his eyes at me, and followed us in.

The man showed me into a little sitting room. One wall was covered by a painting of an orange sun, rising over a yellow cornfield.

“Like it?” he said.

“Very much,” I said.

“Cool.” He scratched at his arm, frowned at it, scratched again.

“You did this?” I asked.

“Yeah. Do ’em anywhere, if people want. Did a café in town, couple of houses, you know, kids’ bedrooms, Finding Nemo, Disney princesses, whatever. Got some cards somewhere, if you know anyone who might want it doing.”

He wandered around the room, poking at piles of paper on window sills and under chairs. I was amused by the fact that he had assumed that I would not have the money to have any paintings done. In the same way that I had known he would be harmless. We know each other, our kind. We do.

He stood up and shrugged. “Know they’re somewhere. I’m Chris, by the way.” He held out his hand, and I shook it formally.

“Anna. And this is Daniel.”

“Nice one. You want a cup of coffee or anything?”

“Coffee would be lovely. Black, please, no sugar.”

“Nah, ta,” Daniel said.

“Cool.” Chris rummaged amongst cushions until he found a t-shirt, and pulled it on. It had a bright design on, some words which did not make much sense to me. He saw me looking at it.

“Those were the days,” he said. “Back when the scene was proper, no violence, no hassle, just peace, love and dancing.”

“They must have been good times,” I said, and I meant it. Daniel rolled his eyes again.

Chris disappeared out of the room, and clattered cups around.

“Fucking hippy raver,” Daniel whispered, and I frowned at him and he shut up. I stood and looked at the picture until Chris came back in. He gave me a West Ham mug with dried blue paint on the handle. “There you go. You uh, want a smoke?”