Speak No Evil (20 page)

‘What you doin' here?'

Jack stared at him. What did he say? The truth or a lie? Another decision. He hated making decisions.

‘I'm … I just … I forgot something.'

Rob thought about that for a second. It must have sounded plausible and didn't involve him so, thought Jack, he found it acceptable. He turned away from Jack, took a mouthful of tea.

Jack stayed where he was. He couldn't believe that was the end of it. No argument, no fight. Rob noticed he was still there, turned to face him again.

‘What you standin' there for, then? Go an' get what you want.'

Jack didn't reply, just moved straight into the bedroom. He shut the door, sat on the bed. Sighed. This was his safe house, the place where he could be himself. Whatever else Rob was, he respected Jack's privacy. He never came in without asking first and never stayed longer than was absolutely necessary. Jack should have respected him for that and it was a credit to him, but mere were too many things in the debit column that more than counterbalanced it.

He had decorated it with the things he recognized as his own. His posters, his music, his books. My Chemical Romance. Bowling For Soup. An old Kurt Cobain poster. His shelves of books, mostly all dark fantasy: Darren Shan, Scott Westerfeld. They may have all been made by someone else, but they all expressed his worldview perfectly.

He wanted to get changed, wondered whether he could risk it with Rob in the living room. Not that he was a stickler for uniform, but he may notice something if Jack went past dressed differently. Jack decided to risk it.

He stripped off his uniform, replaced it with jeans, a T-shirt and his jacket. Kept the trainers on. Couldn't change them. He checked himself in the mirror, relieved to see no real damage to his face, played around with his hair. He wasn't too bad-looking. Not really. Not that he had ever had a girlfriend, but he had seen some looking at him. At least he hoped that was why they were looking. Anything else, his stomach flipping, was unthinkable.

He walked through the living room. Rob didn't look up. He was out the front door and away.

The elation he felt as he walked down the pavement towards the end of the estate was short-lived. The reality of the situation fell on him like a sudden cloudburst. He had been thrown out of school. He had nowhere to go, no one to talk to, nothing to do.

He sat down on a wall, heart as heavy as a stone lodged in his chest.

He took his phone out. He thought long and hard before dialling. But there was no one else to turn to, there was nothing else he could do. She would be angry but hopefully would listen to his side of the story. He knew she was busy – he didn't exactly know with what – but she would understand. He hoped she would understand.

He pressed speed dial. He didn't need it, he knew the number by heart. Waited. She answered.

‘Hello, Mum,' he said hesitantly. ‘Listen … I've got something to tell you. You're not going to like it …'

‘Excuse me.' Anne Marie answered her phone, listened. Her eyes widened, shock crossed her face, then anger. ‘What? What d'you mean you …' She listened again. The anger gradually subsided ‘Right Fine.' She listened further, anger au but gone, replaced with resignation. ‘Right.' She sighed, looked to Donovan then at Abigail. ‘Yeah. You'd best come here then.'

Donovan frowned. Anne Marie ended the call. She looked at the other two, gave a weak smile.

‘I think I've found you somebody to go round town with,' she said.

‘That the kid you want?'

Tess Preston risked a glance round the corner. The boy was sitting on a low wall, talking on his phone. God, didn't any of them go to school round here?

‘Yeah, that's him.' She turned back to the two boys. ‘You've done well on this one, lads. Earned your money. And quick, too. You'd only been gone, what, ten minutes? Good work. I'm impressed. And I'm not a woman who's easily impressed.'

Pez looked pleased with himself. Even Renny seemed to be allowing himself a slight loosening in the tension of his features.

The next line, Tess knew, would be the make or break one. ‘Course, I can't pay you just yet. Not just for this.'

Renny's features tautened. His angry, pinched face bore straight into Tess's. ‘Why not? We found him like you asked, we showed you where he is, like you asked, why the fuck can't you pay us, then, eh?'

‘Aye,' said Pez, tentatively, anger making him find his voice, ‘we did what you asked us to do. That's not fair.'

‘Yeah,' said Renny picking up the theme and developing it with more menace, ‘it's not fair. You owe us, you southern bitch. So fuckin' pay up.'

Tess looked round. Collins had elected to stay in the car. She risked a glance over. Collins was studiously ignoring her. She was on her own. She couldn't back down, she knew that. At least not yet.

She tried to brazen it out. ‘All you've done is point him out to me. I still don't know where he lives, who he lives with, anything like that. That's what you've got to find out before I pay you.'

‘Fuck off. We want payin' now.'

Tess had had enough. ‘And what will you do if I don't?'

Renny actually growled. Tess couldn't believe her ears, she had heard nothing like it. She flinched, expecting sudden violence. None came. Instead Renny had regained his composure and was now smiling, a look of animal cunning in his eyes.

Tell 'im,' he said.

Tess swallowed. ‘What?'

‘That's what I'll do. Tell 'im. That kid. Tell 'im you're lookin' for 'im. Tell ‘im you wanted us to spy on 'im. Aye, that's what I'll do. Tell 'im. An' see what 'e says.'

‘You wouldn't.'

Another unpleasant smile from Renny. ‘Is that a dare?'

Tess backed off. She knew she had no choice. She couldn't risk the fact that Renny might do what he intended. He was certainly unhinged and angry enough and, since he hadn't been paid, had nothing to lose. Tess had underestimated him.

‘All right,' said Tess. ‘I'll pay you. And that's it, right? You're off the clock. That's the end, OK?'

The boys looked at each other, nodded.

Tess slid her hand into her coat pocket, brought out her work wallet. The two boys' eyes never left it.

‘There's fifty quid. Thanks for your time.'

‘Each,' said Renny, looking at the rest of the money going back into the wallet.

‘For pointing out a boy? I don't think so,' said Tess.

‘Fuck you, then.' Renny turned and started to walk towards the kid.

‘All right, all right … fifty quid each.' She took her wallet out again, counted off more bills.

‘Now that's it. Finito. No more. You got that?'

Smirking, Renny and Pez slipped away.

Tess turned and, keeping one eye on the kid, walked back to the car, got in. Collins was staring straight ahead, practising his smoke rings. Tess got behind the wheel, slammed the door.

Collins exhaled a particularly elaborate circle of smoke.

‘That went well,' he said, without looking up.

Tess felt her cheeks burning. ‘I'm never having fucking children,' she said, her voice suddenly high, dry and raspy. ‘But we've got the kid. It's down to us now. Let's follow him.'

Collins said nothing, just puff, puff, puff.

‘So back to work, then,' he says. He puts the recorder on the table between them, switches it on again.

‘Yes, back to work.'

She smiles but it still seems as if a cloud has appeared over her. A cloud she can't shift. Or won't be able to shift until her story has been told.

‘OK. We were talking about Bristol. How you left there quickly. Faster that you intended.'

She nods, volunteers no more information.

‘So … why?'

She shrugs.

‘You mentioned a predator?'

She sighs. That's got nothin' to do with … with anythin' you want to know about. I don't want to talk about him.' She sounds adamant.

‘Right. OK.' He has filed that away, he will try again later. ‘So where was it next?'

‘It's all about protection,' she says suddenly.

‘You mentioned that before.'

‘Well, it is. I mean. If you can't protect your family, what's the point? What's the point of havin' one? What's the point of me talkin' to you now?'

‘Right.'

‘I mean, look at Jack. He's a good lad. A really good lad. I couldn't have that, that … thing gettin' ahold of Jack. Hurtin' him. Twistin' him. The poor lad's got enough to go through without that. So I ran. That's why I ran. To protect my son.'

‘Right. And you couldn't go to the police.'

‘No.'

‘There were other outlets, other things you could have done. The newspapers, the TV …'

She sighs. ‘You don't get it, do you? What if I had gone to them? With my background? Bein' who I am? Who I was?' She glances quickly down at her bandaged hands. He catches her do it. ‘Look, I know it's supposed to be secret, but he knew. What if he tells them? That would be as bad as him comin' after you. No. I did the right thing.'

‘OK.'

‘You'd do the same.'

‘I probably would.'

She smiles then. It's unexpected and it takes him off guard. It lights her face up in way he hasn't seen before. Your daughter's lovely.'

‘Thank you.' Not knowing what else to say, he laughs.

‘She's a credit to you.'

‘I didn't have much to do with her.'

‘Well, you say that, but she's here with you now. So you must have done somethin' right.'

He shrugs. ‘I suppose so.'

The smiles leaches out of her face like colour from a sun-faded painting. ‘But you see what I mean. Think of her and see what I mean. How would you feel if you had a predator comin' after her? What would you do then?'

‘Well …'

‘See? What if it was your son that you had to save? Or daughter? What would you do then?'

‘I'd do everything I could to save them.'

She sits back. ‘Exactly. I didn't just run away. I saved him. I saved Jack.'

He nods.

‘Right. So where did you go next?'

17

‘So, uh, so what kind of music d'you like?'

Jack realized how dumb and lame that sounded even before the words had left his mouth, his cheeks reddening accordingly. He expected Abigail to point and laugh at him at the very least. But she didn't. Either she was too polite, which was possible, or genuinely interested in the question, which he very much doubted.

‘Oh,' she said, putting the straw back in her smoothie and licking her lips, which Jack pretended not to notice, ‘you know. Just stuff I hear. Alphabeat are good to dance to and I like Brandi Carlile. She's good. Fall Out Boy. Bowling For Soup, you know, the usual. But I've been listening to some really old school stuff too like Nirvana? You know them?'

‘Yeah,' said Jack smiling. Who didn't? And she liked them too. Result.

‘What about you?'

She was asking him. What did he do? Tell the truth and risk ridicule? Lie and be caught out? He looked at her. She had big brown eyes and straight, bobbed brown hair. She was wearing make-up but it had been expertly applied. And she had a great, slim figure. She looked way older than fourteen. She looked way older than him.

‘Oh, you know … Nirvana, yeah course. I like some of the usual stuff too. My Chemical Romance, but I think I'm growing out of them. That whole emo thing. Just a phase I was going through.'

She laughed, a little giggle. Was that funny, what he had said? Was that a joke or was she ridiculing him?

‘You're so right,' she said.

It was a joke. He had made a joke and a girl had laughed. And not just any girl, but this one. The kind he never thought he would meet let alone talk to. The kind who was laughing at his jokes. Perhaps this was going to be a good day after all.

They were in a smoothie and juice bar in Eldon Square shopping centre in the heart of Newcastle. The view from their table was of Eldon Square itself, the statue of St George slaying the dragon, flanked by bronze reliefs of Justice and Peace fronted by a stone lion. It was certainly peaceful out in the square, with the usual drinking schools lying around on the grass even in November, goths, emo trainee wannabe goths and social outsiders who had no particular badge of allegiance all clustered round, taking companionship from each other but mainly from their cider and Special Brew, the cans and bottles giving most of them a warmth and comradeship no other person could.

Jack had sought out his mother at Albion. He had been introduced to Joe Donovan who seemed OK, a big guy in his early forties, Jack thought, wearing a T-shirt that someone at least ten years younger would usually be seen in. Donovan, however, managed to pull it off without looking either old or ridiculous. It suited him.

He had a charisma about him, like he was used to asking questions and getting answers or telling people what to do. However he didn't seem cruel with it – it was a natural, easy thing he had. Jack could imagine that people liked him. But for all that, there was something else about him. Something dark. Something damaged. Jack only glimpsed it when he was talking to him – a look in the eye, a stray thought passing across his face, but it was unmistakably there. Or maybe Jack recognized it because he felt he carried something similar within himself.

And then there was Joe Donovan's daughter, Abigail. He had stopped dead when he looked at her. Stunning, way out of his league. But there she was saying hello and shaking his hand. And there was Donovan telling the two of them to go round town together, get to know each other since they didn't know anyone else in the place. Jack thought she wouldn't go for it but she had said yes straight away. He thought he would have been elated. But his troubles had only started then. Because once he was with her, he had to entertain her. He had to make her like him. Or at least make her think he wasn't a complete dork.