Blood Moon (21 page)

Sharon bent down. “Listen, if it’s about money, it doesn’t matter. These can be a treat from me.”

The girl stepped forward and gently but firmly pushed the plate away. “I said, no. Thank you. We’re going to eat later and we don’t want to spoil our appetite.”

Sharon took a step backwards, suddenly uncomfortable in the children’s presence and wanting nothing more than to be as far away from them as she could get. A ridiculous notion of course, but as she made her way back to the table, she was surprised to find her legs felt weak and her arms were trembling. She tried to shake the feeling off, but something gnawed at her. Perhaps it was the way the girl’s eyes had seemed almost yellow in the harsh light of the church hall. Or perhaps it was the way all three of them had turned in unison to look at Bella when they talked about eating later.

31st December 2008. Sandpiper Public House, High Moor. 21:07

Mandy wrinkled her nose and tried her best to ignore the stench as she removed her clothes from her bag. Her mother could be
such
a bitch. If she’d just let her wear what she wanted, then she wouldn’t have to resort to drastic measures like this. Getting changed in some stinking public lavatory was not the best way to start the evening. God knows what sort of mess her hair would be in. There weren’t even any mirrors in here, so she would have to check with her small make-up compact.

Anna hammered on the door. “Get a move on, Mandy. It stinks in here. I think somebody had a piss on the floor and it’s making me feel sick.”

Mandy straightened her top, then shoved the hideous floral number her mother had picked into the carrier bag. “Just a second. I’m nearly done.”

“You said that ten minutes ago. Come on, or we won’t be able to get a seat.”

Anna’s older sister, Julie, after a considerable amount of pleading and a bribe of twenty pounds, had bought four extra tickets for the New Year’s Eve party in the
Sandpiper
. Apparently there was going to be a famous Ukrainian DJ playing and people were already saying it was going to be the best party High Moor had ever seen. Of course, the
Sandpiper
’s owner had to do something. Business had not exactly been booming over the last two months. Not since the disastrous Halloween party. Apparently a severed head crashing through the window and landing on the dance floor was the sort of thing that stuck in people’s minds and drove custom away. It also meant that the bouncers and bar staff probably weren’t going to be too vigilant in checking the age of their clientele. The girls all had fake ID, of course, but Mandy was confident they wouldn’t need it. They all definitely looked eighteen. Apart from Kat. Kat had gone
way
overboard with her makeup and she looked like the Joker from the last Batman movie. Anna and Amy had offered to sort it out for her, but she’d gotten pissy about it. Said it was “her look”. This was fine as far as Mandy was concerned. It would give her something to laugh about later on when Kat’s war paint started to run down her cheeks.

Anna hammered on the door again. “Have you gone to sleep in there? Come on. You’re wasting my bloody drinking time.”

“Just. A. Fucking. Minute,” said Mandy, not bothered that the irritation she felt dripped from her words like acid. It wasn’t like she was taking her time on purpose. She sprayed lacquer onto her hair and ran a brush through it until it was sleek and straight. She did her best to check herself out with the tiny circular mirror held at arm’s length. Sod it. That would have to do. Anyway, a darkened room and flashing disco lights hid a multitude of sins. She’d still look a million times better than some of the old slappers she’d noticed stumbling into the pub earlier.

She pulled open the door and flashed her best smile at Anna. “Ta da! What do you think?”

Anna regarded her for a moment, her expression still one of mild annoyance. “You look lush, chick. Now come on before the stink of this place starts settling on us. Never going to pull with hair smelling of piss, are we?”

Mandy followed Anna out of the toilets to where Kat and Amy were waiting on a low brick wall. Amy passed a joint to Kat, who eyed it suspiciously for a moment then took a deep drag. A couple of seconds later, she bent double in a coughing fit that an eighty year old asbestosis victim would be proud of and held out the slightly moist, lipstick reddened joint to her friend.

Amy rolled her eyes. “You are such a lightweight. And you’ve dribbled all over the end of it!” She nodded at Mandy and Anna. “Got there in the end, did you? About fucking time. We’ve been freezing our tits off out here, and I think it’s going to start snowing soon.”

Mandy couldn’t argue with her friend’s reasoning. The temperature had dropped significantly over the last hour, and the leaden clouds overhead seemed almost close enough to touch. Her breath plumed in the frigid air, and goose-bumps had sprung up across her bare arms. “Yeah, let’s get inside.”

The four girls hurried through the streets as fast as their high heels would permit. The bars were already beginning to fill up, and the only vehicles on the road now seemed to be taxis or the occasional bus. Gangs of young men stood outside
The Wheatsheaf
, smoking and bellowing football chants at the top of their voices, while further along the high street it looked like a fight had broken out between a group of men. Strangely, though, there was no sign of any police. Even on a normal Saturday night, there would be at least two riot wagons parked on the high street. Tonight there was no police presence at all. That meant things were likely to get even more rowdy than usual.

The girls hurried along the shopping precinct, past graffiti-splashed shutters pulled down over shops that had been empty for years, to the small passage that led to the open air car park and the
Sandpiper
public house. The deep bass thud of dance music echoed around the concrete walls and the girls exchanged excited glances. They had been looking forward to tonight for months. Their first proper New Year’s Eve party. Mandy couldn’t wait.

The pub was a pulsating island of light and sound amidst the darkness of the car park. Groups of young men and women stood around by the entrance, smoking cigarettes and trying not to show how cold they were, while a line of people stretched from the doorway all the way to the edge of the building. Anna stared at the queue and gave Mandy a look that would curdle milk. “It’s bloody well packed. We’ll never get somewhere to sit now. If you hadn’t taken so long, pissing about in the bogs…”

Mandy shrugged, but in truth was starting to lose patience with her friend’s constant complaining. “Look, there’s nothing we can do about it now. It’s not my fault my mam made me wear that minging outfit.” She looked down at the carrier bag. “Save me a spot in the line. Going to go stash this somewhere for now.”

Anna, Amy and Kat linked arms and joined the back of the line, while Mandy hurried across the dark car park, looking for somewhere to hide the carrier bag containing her sensible clothes until later. Fat snowflakes drifted down from the sky, and she shivered. It really was getting cold, and despite the abuse she’d get from her friends, she really would like nothing better than a big warm winter coat right now. But this was North East England, and such things just weren’t done. Not if you wanted to retain any kind of street credibility.

She made her way to the edge of the dark expanse of tarmac, to the rear of one of the few remaining shops, and shoved the carrier bag beneath a large green recycling bin. It should be safe there until they left the bar. Mandy was about to return to her friends when a voice from directly behind her made her jump in shock.

“Excuse me, love. Got a light?”

The man was old. Maybe even thirty, although good looking enough considering he was almost old enough to be her dad. Blond hair. Nice smile. But there was something about the way his smile got nowhere near his eyes that made Mandy nervous. “No, sorry, mate. Don’t smoke.”

The man shrugged. “Never mind. Really should pack them in anyway. Maybe it’s a sign, eh? Give ‘em up for New Year.” He held out his hand. “I’m Joseph, Joseph Austin, but you can call me Joe if you like.”

Mandy arched an eyebrow. “I’m late. My friends’ll be looking for me,” she said, walking quickly back towards the corona of light.

Joseph didn’t seem to be discouraged by this and began walking beside her. “Why do you want to go into that shit-hole anyway? We could hang out. Go somewhere, maybe?”

Mandy hurried her pace. “Or you could just piss off, granddad.”

The bar was closer now. She could hear the voices of the people in the line, talking and laughing, from around the corner. To her relief, Joseph was no longer at her side. She risked a glance over her shoulder to see him standing in the middle of the car park, a lascivious grin spread across his face. He waved. “Maybe I’ll see you later, then.”

The shudder that ran through Mandy had very little to do with the cold, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she turned the corner and rejoined Anna, Amy and Kat. They’d almost made it to the front of the queue. Anna still had a face like a smacked arse and Kat’s pale skin had taken on a decidedly green tinge.

Only Amy seemed to notice that Mandy was upset. She put her hand on Mandy’s shoulder. “You alright?”

Mandy gave her a half smile. “Yeah, just some perv in the car park. Told him to fuck off. I’ll feel better once I get a couple of drinks in me.”

They reached the front of the queue and handed their tickets to the doorman, who hardly gave them a second glance. The girls hurried past him before he changed his mind, pushing open the door into a wall of heat and noise. That was more like it. Mandy felt her black mood dissipate, and even Anna was smiling. Kat still looked like she was going to blow chunks all over the carpet, though.

She put her arms around Amy and Anna. “Right then, ladies. Looks like the first round is on me.”

31st December 2008. Sandpiper Public House, High Moor. 23.50

Helen linked arms with her husband, using him as support on the slippery pavement. The snow had started falling as they’d arrived at the restaurant and had become heavier in the last few hours, a thick white blanket covering the entire town. This, however, had not stopped the revellers. A large group had gathered in the market square in readiness for the stroke of midnight, and people were already spilling out of the bars. Predictably, snowball fights had broken out between some groups of young men on the periphery of the market square – snowball fights that rapidly escalated into real ones. What surprised her was that there was no police presence to break things up. It had been a while since she’d gone out in town, but a town like High Moor was a rowdy place at the best of times, and some of the scuffles seemed to be getting quite serious. Yet, there wasn’t so much as a single squad car in the town centre. She shook her head. The buggers were probably hiding back at their nice, warm station.

She grinned at Chelfyn. “Shall we go for a quick drink in the
Sandpiper
? See the New Year in properly?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? A crowded pub and some DJ playing techno loud enough to rattle your fillings?” He grinned. “Fuck yeah!”

They hurried through the streets, trying to ignore the biting cold that managed to penetrate their thick coats. Then, something caught Helen’s eye. “Love, look at that. In the snow. Is that… is that blood?”

Chelfyn stopped and looked over to the dark stain in the snow, then shook his head. “No, there’s too much of it. Someone probably chucked up their snakebite and black. Come on, let’s get to the pub before they call time.”

They left the main shopping precinct and headed to the small covered passage that led to the car park and the
Sandpiper
. Helen was grateful for the momentary respite from the slush-covered pavement and picked up her pace as they followed the thudding bass beat towards their destination. A homeless man sat slumped on a blanket halfway along the passageway and Helen threw a handful of change down for him. The man didn’t seem to notice as the coins hit the front of his blanket, nor offer any form of acknowledgement for the small act of kindness. Helen decided that he was probably hammered on some cheap booze, but was grateful that he’d at least found some scant shelter before the snow had started falling. He’d have frozen to death if he’d stayed out in the near blizzard conditions gripping the town.

She tightly hung on to her husband’s arm as they stepped back onto the frozen tarmac, feeling a hint of vague regret at the last gin and tonic she’d knocked back. The last thing she needed was to fall flat on her arse in the icy conditions. She’d have struggled to stay upright on a night like this if she was stone cold sober.

The music was deafening, even outside. The windows of the pub pulsed in time to the bass beats, and crowds of people stood around at the front of the place wearing clothes more appropriate for a warm July evening, huddled in small groups with gooseflesh standing proud on their arms. The doorman barely looked at them as they hurried inside, despite it being a ticket only event.

The blast of hot air, pounding music and screamed conversation was a stark contrast to the frigid conditions outside. Helen removed her coat and tried not to think about the fact that she was probably twenty years older than most of the other patrons. Chelfyn took her by the hand and led her to the main bar, expertly weaving his way through the gyrating mass of people spilling off the dance floor. He made it almost half way, then stopped and looked at the DJ, narrowing his eyes. Then he burst out laughing. He bent over to say something to her, but she couldn’t make out a word of it. The track ended abruptly, just as he bellowed into her ear.

“Famous Ukrainian DJ my arse! That’s Gary fucking Pennock! He was in our year at school!”

Helen peered through the clouds of dry ice to the man standing behind the decks, remembering a boy in their year with masses of dark curly hair. There was certainly a resemblance. She was about to respond to her husband when she spotted someone else she recognised. Anna Pursey. Mandy’s friend. Standing next to one of the bass speakers, talking to a group of young men. And the two girls next to her were definitely Amy Sherwood and Kat Yares. Which meant that, in all likelihood, Mandy was here somewhere as well. The haze of alcohol and happy thoughts vanished in a heartbeat, replaced with a mother’s righteous rage. She strode across the dance floor to where the girls stood, oblivious to the people she knocked out of her way in the process. She reached them and just stood there, hands on her hips and eyes blazing in fury. Anna looked up and met her eyes just as the music started again. Helen couldn’t hear the words that came out of her mouth, but she didn’t need to. “Oh fuck” was not a difficult sentence to lip read.