Speak No Evil (24 page)

Renny had been on edge a lot the last few days. Ever since Calvin died, Pez thought, but he didn't say it because it just might make Renny angry. So he said nothing. He was good at saying nothing.

So he and Renny had walked round the estate. They knew every centimetre of it, had walked it so many times. Knew which bits were usually safe, which were best avoided. But it wasn't happening tonight. The booze, the sweets, the cigarettes had all promised something but failed to deliver. There was something more happening, something better, but Pez didn't know what and didn't know where. So Pez told Renny he was going home.

And that's when the trouble started.

Renny turned on him. Nought to sixty in seconds. ‘Go then, fuckin' go, you fuckin' cunt. Go on then, see if I care. Do I care? I don't fuckin' care. Fuck off. You can do what you fuckin' want. I don't fuckin' care …'

And on and on. Pez was hurt by the words; even for Renny they were unkind. When Renny was unkind to him Pez usually forgave him. But the look in his best friend's eyes when he was ranting at him told him it was best to leave him alone for the time being. So Pez left him.

But Pez didn't go home. He couldn't. Renny's words had upset him. So he walked round, on his own, thinking. It took him a long time to think. So it took him a long time to walk.

He bought more sweets, another two cans of cider.

Lost all track of time.

‘Here. Just here …'

Collins pulled the Golf up on the Hancock Estate, opposite the block of flats that Mae Blacklock lived in. Tess, curled up foetally in the passenger seat, turned to look out of the window. Arrows of pain shot up through her as she did so. ‘Jesus Christ …' It hurt so much. So fucking much.

Her first reaction after Collins had given her that rare note of praise and the comedown had hit, was to want to cry. Scream, shout and bawl. She didn't want this any more. Being hurt, sitting in cars all night, trying to destroy people's lives just to sell papers. She wanted to go home. Not her little flat in Dalston but her real home. Back to her parents in the country. But she got a grip. It was just the pain talking. She would be all right once they got moving.

Yeah. She'd be back to normal.

‘We must have … have … beat him back … let's, let's wait …'

Collins took out his camera, attached a telephoto lens. He was like a different person from the one he had been all day, Tess thought. Focused, alive. Now she could see why he was so highly rated.

They waited, watched. One of the kids Tess had been using staggered past, Pez, she thought his name was. He looked wasted. Probably on my money, she thought, curling down so she couldn't be seen, head spinning once more.

Pez disappeared round a corner. Tess and Collins kept watching the flats.

Eventually they saw movement.

‘That her?' asked Collins.

Mae Blacklock was coming out of the stairwell, hurrying across the square.

‘That's her,' said Tess.

Collins adjusted focus, started snapping.

‘Look.'

From the opposite side of the square Rob appeared. He looked out of breath, as if he had ran the whole way. He saw her, summoned up some remaining energy and ran towards her.

‘Round two …' Tess said.

Rob started talking to her, loudly, waving his arms round, pointing back the way he had come. They couldn't hear what was being said but Tess was sure she knew what Rob was saying. Mae Blacklock looked suddenly terrified. She fell into Rob's arms. He held her tight. Collins kept snapping.

‘Ah, isn't love sweet …'

Then she abruptly pulled away. Rob looked surprised. She was saying something to him, pointing off in another direction. He grabbed hold of her arms. She bent forward, pleading with him to let her go. He shook his head. She pleaded some more. Tess wished she could hear what they were saying.

Eventually she broke down in tears and Rob let her go. She hugged him, clinging like she didn't want to let go until she reluctantly pulled herself away. Just as reluctantly he let her go.

‘You getting all this?'

‘Crisp and clear.' Collins kept snapping away.

Suddenly Rob looked over, anger in his face.

‘Fuck,' said Tess, ‘he's spotted us.'

Rob was striding over to the car, hands balled into fists. He stopped on the way to pick up a length of pipe that was lying in among the debris of someone's front garden.

‘Move,' said Tess, ‘move …'

Collins dropped the camera with its heavy lens on Tess's lap. She gave a start, let out a grunt of pain. Collins started the car, put it in gear, drove off before Rob could reach them.

He drove out of the estate, didn't stop until he was sure there was no danger. Turned the engine off. Tess let out a huge sigh of relief. It hurt but she didn't mind.

‘Fuck me …' She laughed. ‘That was close …'

‘What should we do now?' said Collins, picking up his camera again, checking that Tess hadn't damaged it with her lap.

‘Let's wait,' said Tess. ‘She seemed like she was off somewhere. Let's give her time to do what she has to do and get back. Then we'll go and keep watch.'

Collins nodded.

‘So what d'you reckon then?' asked Tess. ‘Have we got overwhelming public interest yet?'

Collins looked at Tess's ruined face. ‘I think we're getting there.'

Tess managed a mangled smile. ‘Fantastic,' she said.

She hoped she meant it.

Pez walked. Because he didn't know what else to do.

He shook his head, tried to clear it. Those extra cans of cider had been a mistake. Instead of making things clearer they had just made them murkier. He didn't know why Renny behaved the way he did. He knew dungs were bad at home, that his father hit him and hurt him, sometimes in horrible ways, in fact it was partly why Pez was friends with him. Because he thought he would appreciate someone being nice to him. But it didn't always work out that way. Renny didn't always appreciate it. Or if he did, he didn't always show it.

But at least Renny had a dad. Pez had lost his. To lung cancer. He remembered when he used to be a big bloke, the life and soul. Always laughing, with a drink in one hand and a fag in the other. He can't think of his dad then without smiling. But not later. When he had a lung removed and needed a canister of oxygen in the front room just to get up and make a cup of tea. He didn't laugh so much then. Or when the cancer really got him, when it stripped him down to his bones like that monster off
Doctor Who.
He was a walking skeleton. Well, not walking. Just lying there.

But he missed his dad. Wished he was there. His mother tried her best but when he died she seemed to as well. Or a part of her did. The happy part.

He closed his eyes. He shouldn't drink. It always made him sad eventually.

Pez looked up. He was in a part of the estate he hardly ever came to. He didn't know anyone here and no one knew him. Not good. Time to go home. He didn't even have a blade on him. He could see Renny tomorrow, hope he was in a better mood. Do something fun together to put him in a better mood.

He turned round. And stopped.

Someone was blocking his way in the alley. Someone holding a very large knife.

Pez tried to scream, to shout for help, but a hand was clamped round his neck. The hand squeezed, twisted. The other hand held the blade. Brought it closer. He tried even harder to scream but when the blade opened the veins and arteries in his neck it also sliced through his vocal cords. By the time he had crumpled to the ground, his intestines spilling out from the slashes the blade had made in his stomach, he could do nothing but He there. A darkness that was blacker than the night crept into his vision and he knew he was dying. He closed his eyes, too surprised even to cry.

The blood bled out of his body. His heart stopped. His final thought:

I hope I see my dad.

Tess checked her watch. Nearly an hour had gone by. Time, she thought, to resume their position.

Collins drove back to the estate, parking in a different position from the previous time since Rob may still be on the lookout for them, but still with a view of the entrance to Mae Blacklock's block of flats.

‘Ready for a long night?' said Tess.

Collins looked at Tess and she saw some small amount of concern in his eyes. ‘Shouldn't you go and get that nose checked out? Might need a bit of surgery to push it back into place. Don't want you ruinin' your good looks.'

Tess was stunned at the words. She didn't know what to say. Instead, she pulled down the vanity mirror on the sun visor, checked herself out. Collins was right, she looked a mess. Hardly a night for pulling. But there was nothing she could do about it now. With the money she made from this she could get it surgically reconstructed. Christ, she could probably get her whole face reconstructed. And a boob job as well, if she wanted.

She flipped the visor back up. And saw Mae Blacklock walking over the square.

‘There she is.'

Collins reached for his camera, stared snapping. ‘She looks exhausted,' he said.

‘Wonder where she's been?' said Tess. She checked her watch. Coming up for two in the morning. ‘Late to be out for a stroll.'

Collins snapped her all the way into the stairwell.

‘That's her for the night, I guess,' said Tess. ‘What should we do?'

Collins shrugged. ‘Wait.'

Tess attempted a smile. ‘Fine.' She shifted in her seat. Felt shafts of pain lance through her. ‘I find it of overwhelming public interest that we sit here and wait.'

She tried to settle back into her seat. She was exhausted, experiencing pain like never before and about to sit up all night watching a stairwell where she doubted there would be any movement.

Tess hoped it would be worth it.

PART FOUR

WAIT UNTIL DARK

‘Right. We've got to step up a gear.'

She doesn't answer.

‘Hello? Did you hear me?'

She looks up at him. She's clearly been crying and more – she has black circles under her eyes and her clothes are creased. She looks like she hasn't slept. Her eyes are unfocused, like she can't hear what he's saying or there are other things clouding his words out.

‘Yeah …'

He decides to carry on. ‘What you've given me so far is OK but it's not enough. I need much more than that if this is going to work. And more depth too. We've only skimmed the surface'

‘I can't do this today.' She picks at the bandages on her hands as she talks.

He waits.

‘Look, I just … things have changed. Thing have happened. This might not be finished. I might not be here much longer. I might have to go away again.'

‘Why?'

‘Because …' She wants to answer but stops herself. ‘Because it's all changed. I can't say any more.'

‘You can talk to me. What's happened? Why have you got to go?'

‘I just have.' She shakes her head. ‘I shouldn't be here now. I should be off.'

‘Where?'

‘Anywhere. Just … as far from here as possible.'

‘Again, why?'

‘Because … things have happened. Bad things. You thought I was making it up? The bad spirits and that? Rubbish. It's not safe for me here any more. Or Jack. I've got to get away.'

‘If things are that bad, you need help.'

‘I've got to get away …'

‘Why?'

‘I just have! That's why!' She stops, looks at him. Knows he's only trying to help. Tries to calm down. ‘Sorry.'

There are things he wants to say to her, questions he wants to ask. But he is unsure whether they will pull her closer to him or push her further away. ‘You need help. You need to confront what-evers gone wrong and put it right.'

‘That's easy for you to say. But I can't get help, don't you understand? I can't. It's beyond that now.' She looks around. ‘I've got to run.'

He has to be direct. ‘What have you done, Anne Marie?'

She doesn't answer, just closes her eyes.

‘Please,' she says eventually, ‘will you help me?'

He looks at the distraught, fragile woman before him, sees the state she is in. He won't let her run, he knows that. There is too much at stake. Too much he needs to know.

‘I'll help you,' he says.

She looks about to burst into tears.

‘But I won't help you run.'

‘But …'

‘You want to leave but you haven't gone,' he says. ‘You don't want to talk but you're sitting here in front of me right now. You say you want to run and hide, but you didn't. You came to see me.'

She looks at him, says nothing.

‘I think there are things you want to tell me. And that's good, because I'm here to listen. So here's what we'll do. You talk to me. Tell me everything that I need to know. Tell me honestly. Don't hide things, don't embellish, don't try to make your
—'

‘I'm not a liar. I'm not manipulative.'

‘Good. Then just be honest and talk to me.'

‘And then will you help me get away?'

‘I'm making no promises. But I will help you.'

She looks at him, says nothing.

‘It's either that or nothing, Anne Marie. And no one else is queuing up to help you. So what d'you say? Deal?'

She sighs. And the weight of the world moves slightly.

‘Deal,' she says.

‘Good,' he says, knowing this could well be the breakthrough he has been working towards. He is also aware that he needs to know everything but thinks it best to do so in order. ‘Right,' he says, making a decision. ‘Let's start at the beginning. I can't understand the present without going back into the past. You're eleven years old, Anne Marie. Tell me everything.'