Bleed Like Me (18 page)

She left the house at six forty and was on Dave’s doorstep by just shy of seven, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling behind her breastbone.

The house didn’t look quite as small or as cheap as she had imagined.
Pity.
Dave answered the door, yawning, bleary-eyed in boxers and a T-shirt. She averted her eyes from his bare legs, filing away a flash of Chris’s slimmer, more buff body.

He blinked, obviously surprised to see her. ‘Now what?’ he said.

‘Sammy was supposed to go to an open day in Leeds on Thursday.’

‘And?’

‘He missed it. Did he even tell you about it?’

Dave shook his head. ‘No.’

‘I don’t know what he’s playing at,’ Gill said.

‘Well, ask him,’ Dave said.

‘That’s why I’m here.’
Peabrain
. Gill was striving to be civil against every impulse. ‘Get him up,’ she said.

Dave frowned. ‘He went to your place.’

‘What?’ Her spine tingled.

‘Last night. He had his tea then said he was off to yours.’

‘I’ve not seen him.’ She felt cold suddenly, cold and cross and anxious.

‘Can you shut the door?’ A woman’s voice called out, then Gill heard footsteps coming downstairs.

‘You’d better come in,’ Dave said with a heavy sigh.

Oh, shit.
She really didn’t want to but there was no way out
of it. She stepped inside and saw his floozie, child astride her hip.

Dave flushed. ‘Emma, this is Gill.’

‘What’s going on?’ Emma said, barely looking at Gill.

‘Sammy never arrived at Gill’s,’ Dave said.

‘Oh, my God!’ the woman said melodramatically, making the child glance up at her with concern. ‘You think something’s happened?’

‘No,’ Gill said briskly, squashing it, even the thought of it. ‘When did he leave?’

Dave looked at Emma. ‘Half past seven?’ he said.

‘Seven.’

‘Why? What did he say?’ said Gill.

There was a hiatus. The brat seized the chance to whinge. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Come through,’ Dave said, shifting them all into the kitchen. ‘He just said he was going to yours.’

‘Why? I’m not exactly flavour of the month.’ Gill thought of Sammy’s parting words.

Dave rubbed at the back of his neck and stared at Emma again. Couldn’t he speak for himself? Emma gave him a look which Gill interpreted as
don’t ask me
and poured cereal into a bowl.

‘He just kicked off,’ Dave said.

‘You argued?’ Gill said.

‘He wasn’t pulling his weight. We’d asked him countless times to clear up. Then he’d wake the little one.’

Gill hid the little wriggle of relish she felt inside. Petty. Where was Sammy? That was all that mattered. ‘So, what, you give him a bollocking and he says he’s running home to me?’

‘Near enough,’ Dave said.

Gill thought quickly. Where would he go? She pulled out
her phone and rang his number. He didn’t pick up. ‘I’ll try Josh and Ricky,’ she said.

‘Ricky?’ Dave said.

‘Glennister.’

‘Right,’ but it seemed he’d not a clue who his son’s friends were. How could that be, given he was sharing a roof with him? Didn’t he talk to him? Wasn’t he curious?

‘Hello?’

‘Josh, it’s Sammy’s mum, Gill. Is Sammy with you?’

‘No.’

‘Did you see him last night?’

‘No, sorry.’ Always polite, Josh, but Gill suspected he was one of the more reckless kids among Sammy’s friends. Whether he’d lie to her outright was another matter. ‘You see him before I do, will you ask him to call me or his dad?’

‘Okay.’

‘Thanks.’

Gill felt a little wobble. What if it was more serious? What if he was missing? Not just AWOL but missing?

She tried Ricky. His phone went to voicemail and she had just left a message when he rang her back. ‘I’ve not seen him for a couple of days,’ Ricky said. ‘I’ve been off college.’

‘Neither of them have seen him,’ Gill said to Dave. ‘Where can he be?’

‘I don’t know.’ Dave spread out his arms. ‘How should I know?’

At the table the child was stirring its cereal round and round and humming some little song under its breath.

‘You must know who he’s hanging out with.’

‘Well you clearly don’t.’

‘I’ve not seen him for the last six weeks.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ Dave said nastily.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He couldn’t stomach it – his own mother—’

Any self-control fled. ‘No,’ she pointed a finger at him, ‘he was fine with it, with me and Chris, me and my younger man.’ Determined to call a spade a spade. ‘Until you stuck your oar in. You are the one who can’t stomach it. Does she know that?’ Gill nodded at the younger woman. ‘ ’Cos it’d bother me, my bloke in a tizzy about his ex’s sex life. You can get a younger model but I’m not allowed, eh?’

Dave had gone puce, his teeth gritted. Emma, face set, seized the bottle of milk from the table, flung open the fridge door.

‘You should know who his friends are,’ Gill said.

‘Like you do?’ Dave sneered.

‘He’s probably with Orla,’ Emma said, arms folded, plainly brassed off.

Dave and Gill stared at her and spoke in unison. ‘Who the fuck is Orla?’

‘His girlfriend,’ Emma said.

What the fuck?
‘How long’s he had a girlfriend?’ Gill said.

‘Ages,’ Emma said, something smug sprawling across her face.

A girlfriend!
How come Sammy hadn’t told her? How come she hadn’t known? And Emma had.

Orla lived in a council house on the other side of Shaw. Gill felt acutely uncomfortable as she knocked on the door. A teenager answered – was this Orla? Black leggings, denim shorts that could not possibly be any shorter without turning into a belt, tank top and blouse in neon yellow. Tattoo visible on her shoulder through the flimsy material. Shaggy blonde hair and a nose stud.

‘Yes?’ she said brightly.

‘Orla?’

‘Yeah,’ less certain now.

‘Is Sammy here?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Can I have a word? I’m his mum.’

‘Oh, cool, yes.’ She shut the door. A minute later Sammy opened it. ‘What are you doing here?’ he said, flushed and sounding irate.

‘That’s my line,’ Gill said. ‘Get in the car.’

‘I’m not going back—’

‘I just want to talk to you. Get in the car.’

He’d only socks on his feet but the ground was dry at present so Gill just stood waiting. Sammy leaned back into the house and called, ‘Back in a minute.’

She’d been shaken by his disappearing stunt. The prospect, however remote, that he was missing, even hurt, had niggled away and she was trying to shed the sensation now, telling herself that it was all right. Everything was all right. No harm done. Panic over.

They sat side by side, Gill staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the way he was picking at his nails, the clicking sound making her cringe, like chalk squeaking on a blackboard.

‘What are you playing at?’ she said. ‘Lying to your dad. We’d no idea where you were.’

‘So?’ he said sullenly.

‘We’re your parents, Sammy. We need to know where you are. Where you’re staying at night at the very least.’

‘Why? I’m seventeen. I could get married if I wanted to.’

Oh, please no, thought Gill.

‘Or join the army or leave home. You can’t stop me.’

‘I’m not trying to stop you doing anything. But sneaking off and lying, running away as soon as things get tricky, that’s no way to behave. You want to stay over at Orla’s – you let us
know. That’s all I’m saying. Though I don’t think it’s a good idea when you’ve got college the next day.’

He snorted. ‘You talk to me about how
I
behave.’

She felt heat in her face. ‘Is this about Chris and me? You know what I’m hearing? Your dad. You sound just like him.’

‘I do not!’ He did not appreciate that comment.

‘You were fine with it,’ she said. ‘You told me that yourself, the first time you met Chris. I mean, I know the thought of either parent having sex is utterly gross but beyond that I have every right to make new friends, start a new relationship if that makes me happy. Your dad might not be able to handle it but you’re not an idiot, Sammy. Don’t be a stooge for him.’

‘It’s not just him,’ he said.

‘What?’ Gill turned to look, saw him flinch and turned away again.

‘Some people at college. You know what they call it . . . you? A cougar.’

She almost laughed but knew it would be the wrong thing to do. And there was a sting of annoyance that such pettiness was distracting him from the more important things in life.

‘Tell them to mind their own business. Jesus, Sammy, you don’t need to listen to tosspots like that. In the scheme of things,’ she bounced the edges of her hands on the steering wheel, ‘with everything that’s happening in people’s lives, this is just . . . trivia. I love you, kid, you know that, but I’m not going to let either your dad or a load of pimply teenagers with their tongues wagging have the slightest effect on how I live my life. Got it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Orla seems nice,’ Gill said.

‘Yes, she is.’

‘Good. Right. You get yourself to college and if you’re staying here again any time, you tell your dad. And . . .’ she held
up a hand as he opened the car door, ‘if you’re not going to talk to me about all the UCAS stuff, discuss it with him. Or Emma,’ she said, though it half killed her to acknowledge the woman.

‘Okay.’

She watched him walk up the path, stooping slightly, and saw him knock on the door. Then she started the car and drove off. The events of the morning had left a nasty taste in her mouth, and the well-being she’d felt after Chris’s visit seemed to have evaporated.

The announcement came blaring over the radio, making Rachel’s scalp tighten. ‘Control to all units, stolen Hyundai Accent, registration sierra, six, one, zero, X-ray, bravo, Charlie, confirmed sighting Porlow.’ Rachel entered the coordinates into the map app on her phone.

‘That’s close, right?’ Janet, at the wheel, threw her a glance.

Rachel watched the results load, the red circle showing the location of the car. ‘It’s a retail park,’ she said. She zoomed out to judge the quickest route, then looked out of the window checking that the next street on the left corresponded to what she had on the screen.
Yes
. ‘Down to the roundabout, straight over, then second left at the next one,’ Rachel said. More details were coming in over the radio. ‘All units requested to wait at the perimeter road.’ Rachel magnified the image, read the labels aloud, ‘PC World, B&Q, TK Maxx, Curry’s, Iceland.’

‘How far off are we?’

‘How fast are you going to go?’

‘Ha ha,’ Janet said sarcastically.

‘Ten minutes, tops,’ Rachel said. She studied the screen again, glanced up at the hedges and walls flashing past, the
road ahead blurry because the rain was heavy again, a steady deluge that the wipers struggled to deal with.

‘It could be a decoy,’ Rachel said to Janet. ‘He dumps the stolen car, we’re all fannying around waiting for him to buy a new mobile phone or a fresh set of threads and meanwhile he’s running as far as he can in the other direction.’

‘He’d need transport,’ Janet said. ‘Another car.’

‘Train, coach.’

‘And how’s he get there from here with two kids?’

‘Might be on his own.’

Janet swallowed, just as her phone went off. ‘Can you get that, see who it is?’

Rachel took the phone and read the display. ‘Your mum,’ she said.

Janet gave a sigh. ‘Leave it,’ she said.

Rachel was happy to. Dorothy didn’t like her, Rachel could tell; looked down her nose at her. Even the way Dorothy spoke changed with Rachel: she put on a posher voice and acted all headmistressy and disapproving.

‘No, answer it.’ Janet changed her mind. ‘Tell her I’m driving and I’ll call her later.’

Rachel pressed the green key, said, ‘Hello, Dorothy,’ but was cut off by the terrible screaming that came down the line. ‘Janet! Janet! Oh, God, Janet, help me, help me! It hurts.’

Janet went white as chalk, shot a look in the mirror and pulled into the side of the road, the tyres skidding on the run-off water. She grabbed the phone. ‘Mum? Mum? What’s wrong?’

‘Oh, God, oh my God,’ Dorothy moaned, ‘I don’t know, oh, it hurts.’

‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ Janet said. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ She hung up. ‘Oh, fuck, Rachel.’

‘Ring the ambulance,’ Rachel said, ‘then you go. Maybe she’s fallen.’

‘She’s not that old,’ Janet said as she dialled, ‘not falling down old. God, the way she screamed.’ The operator answered and Janet spoke precisely. ‘I need an ambulance to 6 Waterfield Lane, Middleton, M24 7AP.’ The operator began to ask the routine questions but Janet cut in. ‘I’m not with the person, but she’s my mother, she’s just rung me in extreme distress, in great pain. I’ve no idea what’s wrong or even where she is in the house. I’ll try to get someone round to open the door. You may have to tell them to break in.’

That wouldn’t be easy. Her mum had solid UPVC doors, high quality locks. She thought quickly. There was a phone in the living room, another in the kitchen and one upstairs. Given they were cordless her mother could have been anywhere.

‘Can I give you the number,’ she said, ‘and you can try to ring her back.’ She reeled it off.

‘Has she any health problems?’ the operator asked.

‘No, not really. Look, I’ve no idea what’s wrong. Please, just send the ambulance.’ She thought of the previous day, her mum feeling tired, off colour. Janet had dismissed it as a minor niggle. Oh, God. ‘You have my number,’ she said, ‘this number. Please make sure someone informs me when the paramedics reach her.’

‘Was the patient conscious?’

‘Yes, but I’ve no idea if she is now.’

‘Is she taking any regular medication?’

‘Erm . . . statins and thyroxin, I think.’

‘Please hold the line.’

‘No, I need to get moving,’ Janet said sharply. ‘Just send an ambulance, now.’

‘The ambulance has been dispatched.’

‘Right. I need to see if my husband can get round there with a key,’ Janet said. She hung up. She knew there were sound
reasons for the operator sticking to the script but on this occasion there was nothing Janet could tell them and she judged it more important to sort out access to the house.