Breakdown (18 page)

No pans clanging. Just Kaylem and one other. And the empty street.

‘Knew I'd find you,' says Kaylem. ‘You forgot I was the one who taught you all your froggy tricks.' He smiles. In one hand he holds a machete, rusty, half a metre long. In the other, an iron bar. ‘So, Tarquin,' says Kaylem. ‘You going to come quiet?'

Tarquin stops dead. ‘Don't step no closer,' he says.

Kaylem nods at his sidekick. ‘You know we can pan up a posse in seconds.'

‘You was always a good boy,' says the other ganger. It's not Nailey. ‘Till you met that ho. We don't like to cut up good boys.'

Tarquin doesn't miss a beat. ‘Guys,' he says. ‘What's it to you if I go? What's it to you if I take the girl? I got my kid brother to look out for and you know it.'

‘Quite the little family,' says Kaylem.

‘Let us go and I'll owe you one. I ain't never crossed neither of you before all this. There was that time down in Bow when we fought 'longside each other. I had your backs.'

‘Ain't up to us now,' says the second guy. ‘If it was up to us, we'd have considered.'

‘I wouldn't,' says Kaylem.

‘See, it's not me,' says the other.

‘You had it coming,' says Kaylem.

‘It's Careem,' says the other. ‘We been sent to fetch you and the kid and the ho back. You made him look a fool, bro. When the Limehouse gang come, he couldn't give them the kid he'd promised. He ain't happy 'bout that and we got our orders.'

‘You're making a mistake,' says Tarquin. ‘I coulda been your mate on the outside. Mighta been of some help. Us not knowing the future an' that.' He moves his hand round to the back of his jeans, slips it up under his shirt. ‘I got my uses and my contacts. Careem ain't gonna last forever.'

The sidekick shakes his head. ‘We can't go back until he's happy. Next thing we know, someone else gonna catch you and you're gonna blab and tell on us.'

‘I won't ask you again,' says Tarquin. ‘Just turn around and walk off. Even if you forget we fought 'longside each other, I don't.'

Kaylem lifts the machete up and takes a step forward.

‘Come easy and we'll put in a good word for you,' wheedles the other.

‘I'll take out Quin. You hold the others,' snaps Kaylem.

‘Bet you're hungry ain't you?' The second ganger turns to Lenny. ‘Bet you could do with a good haunch of meat and a bowl of spuds? Nice and juicy,' he adds, all leery eyes.

‘I ain't kidding,' says Tarquin. ‘I'm asking, just this once, for you boys to let us go. We ain't coming back. We're leaving London. No one'll know.'

‘Just give up, Quin,' says Kaylem. He raises the blade and steps closer.

‘Well, we ain't going to,' says Tarquin.

And he pulls out the gun.

He points it right at Kaylem.

That stops him.

‘Get behind me, Lenny,' says Tarquin. ‘And you too.'

I get hold of Lenny and we get behind Tarquin.

‘Please don't shoot them,' says Lenny.

‘Yeah, listen to Lenny,' says the second guy, backing off.

But Kaylem doesn't care. He keeps on coming. He laughs. ‘Where'd you get that from, Quin? Sure it works?'

Tarquin holds the pistol steady.

‘It don't work, do it?' Kaylem carries on stepping up, machete raised.

‘Please,' says Lenny.

‘No closer,' says Tarquin.

‘You ain't going to pull that trigger anyway,' says Kaylem. ‘You're a pussy.' He's up really close. As bold as dogs.

Tarquin doesn't say another word. He aims the pistol and waits.

And suddenly I know why he's waiting.

He's waiting for Kaylem to be right on him. When he shoots, he's going to do maximum damage. I gnaw up on my inside cheek. I try to breathe. I tug Lenny back further. I hold my breath in. My heart thuds. My teeth are tight against my lips.

‘Quinny?' says Lenny. ‘You don't know if –'

‘You shut up, Lenny,' snaps Tarquin.

‘We was your old running mates,' says the second ganger. ‘If it weren't for Careem we'd a let you go.' He looks at Lenny. ‘Tell your bro, he don't have to shoot no one.'

Kaylem inches forward. He thinks he's got Tarquin's measure.

Shoot.

How close is close enough?

For God's sake, shoot him, Tarquin.

If I had that gun I'd shoot.

Kaylem creeps on, his knees slightly bent. Only an arm's length away. He raises the machete.

Brings it down.

Tarquin holds that gun rock steady and pulls the trigger. The gun fires. Silver balls spray out. The machete clatters to the ground, spins out of reach.
It works. The gun works
. With a squeal, like he's a dog with a broken back, Kaylem falls. One side of his head spouting blood.

The other guy starts shouting. ‘It's OK! Tarquin. It's OK! Don't shoot. You jus' carry on, like you said. Jus' go. You know we always been friends.'

Tarquin backs up a pace, scoops up the machete. ‘You,' he says to the other ganger. ‘You take your belt off. Sit down in the road. Put your arms behind your back.' Kaylem moans and squirms on the pavement and wipes at the gore on his bloodied face. The other ganger whines, ‘Don't do that to me. The dogs gonna get me.' But he sits down and does like he's told. ‘I woulda let you go.'

‘Yeah,' says Tarquin. ‘Here.' He passes the gun to me. ‘Shoot him in the face if he does anything,' he says.

I hold the gun. It feels good. I step nearer and crouch down. I hold the gun full in the ganger's face.
I'll shoot you
, I think.
You don't know me. I'll shoot you as quick as lightning.

Tarquin takes the belt, squats down behind the boy, twists the belt around the boy's wrists, locks the buckle into place. With the machete Tarquin saws through the remainder of the belt. He tests it, moves to the front and ties the boy's feet.

‘Aw, please,' whines the boy.

All the time I push that gun right up close. My hand doesn't waver. I almost wish he'd struggle so that I could shoot and be done with him. He isn't going to take me or my Lenny anywhere. I wish to God he wasn't going to live to tell any tales back at Games City either.

Kaylem gurgles, screams. I glance over at him. One side of his face pitted with shot. Blood everywhere. He looks back at me. Evil. Malicious. But it's a vacant stare. One eye not quite right. I think he's lost an eye. He starts coughing, spluttering. I remember his breath on my face, stinking of alcohol. I don't care if he chokes on his own blood. I wouldn't turn round and roll him over if you paid me in hot meals.

Tarquin doesn't say a word. After he's through tightening the belt, he backs up.

‘Don't do this, bro,' whimpers the ganger.

Tarquin toes Kaylem. ‘You better not die,' he says. ‘You need to sit up and loosen the ties on your partner and pray he helps you home before the dogs come.'

As if by design, a low howling breaks out through the morning.

‘Oh, man,' moans the ganger.

Tarquin takes the gun back off me. ‘I ain't finished here yet,' he says. ‘Get Lenny.' He yells at Lenny, ‘Take her hand.' His voice changes. ‘Take Lenny's hand. Walk to the end of the street. Turn the corner and keep going. Don't come back whatever you hear.'

‘What you gonna do, Tarquin?' says Lenny. He sounds more frightened about what Tarquin's going to do than for his own skin.

‘Don't ask,' says Tarquin.

I don't. I just grab Lenny's hand and pull him back up the street. We get to the corner. Lenny lags a bit. I haul him around it. He doesn't need to know what Tarquin's going to do. I don't need to know. I grab Lenny and hug him to me. ‘Your brother knows best in this,' I say. ‘You gotta trust him. He was one of them once.'

We keep on walking. Lenny keeps looking back. We wait to hear shots, wait for something. It's like the whole of London's waiting. But the shots don't come. Gradually Lenny stops shaking so much. He starts to breathe easier.

We hear something. I'm not sure what it is. It's not a shot. Lenny jumps nearly out of his skin. I keep tight hold of him. I don't know why. Now would be the very best time to let go, let him scoot off. Lenny wouldn't know what to do. Even if he didn't scoot off he'd just stand there not knowing.

Yep, this should be the very best time.

To leave Lenny and Tarquin, once and for all.

I imagine Lenny standing there after I've gone and looking all baffled. Looking like he's thinking:
should I wait for Tarquin? Follow Missa? Go back? Shout out?

And I can't do it.

Maybe I can't do it at all.

And then I'm foxed. I've got to do it. Go. Leave them both. Before we reach anywhere near Nan's flat.

It wasn't my fault. I'm not the one who locked me up in Games City. What the hell do they expect me to do? But I don't move or run off or anything. I still can't. Not while Lenny's got his little hand curled up in mine so trustingly.

Tarquin catches us up. He comes at a run and shoots one look straight at Lenny. I can see Lenny thinking, like he's going to ask a string of questions. Tarquin cuts through all thinking. ‘Where to?' he asks me.

I open my mouth and say, ‘West.'

Oh God. I don't want them to come west with me.

I hear Nan's voice.
‘Rules of survival. He who hesitates is lost. When you kill a dog, take its head off in one sweep. Don't leave a chance for it to get up and bite you. Don't look into its eyes. Pity is a trap for the faint-hearted.'

But they're not dogs. And I'm not ready. That's it. I'm not ready. I don't want to leave them and go back to the flat alone. I want their company.

I'll pretend we are going to Scotland just a little longer.

Before I know it, it's dusk. And I haven't even tried to leave at all. We're down by the waterfront where Nan died. I don't even know why I brought them here. We're supposed to be going to the wharf where the trade boats moor.

We get to the place. I look around. Lost. As if I'm expecting to see Nan. Tarquin puts his arm round me. Lenny slips his hand into mine and says, ‘Don't be sad, Missa.'

‘Is this where it happened?' says Tarquin. They stand there with me.

And I don't know why, maybe because they're being so nice about everything, maybe because we're beginning to feel like we're a team, but I can't stand it. The time is right now. If I don't do it now, I'm never going to be able to.

I bend and give Lenny a little kiss on the top of his head. I stroke his cheek, tuck his hoody round him. I look at Tarquin. Our eyes meet. I look away. I stop thinking about the way his skin glows, the angle of his cheekbones, how the muscle on the side of his face bunches when he laughs.

He's going to be OK. He's got a gun. He's going to be more than OK.

‘I need to be alone,' I say. ‘Just for a bit.'

They nod. I slip away very slowly. Like I'm just going to shed some tears round the back of some derelict building.

As soon as I'm out of sight, I quicken up my pace. When I'm sure they aren't going to hear, I start to run. I run fast.

I head straight down the street. The flat's only a quarter of a mile away. I can do that in five minutes easily. I know I can get there. I ate well last night. It's almost curfew. This is the dog time of day. But I'll get there.

When I get home, I'll get in, I'll ram the door shut, lock out the world behind me. I'll drop down on the bed. I'll let go. Everything can flood out then. I'll lie there. I don't know what the hell I'll do after that. But it won't matter. I'm not going to stop until I get there.

I make it down through the old high street and up the old estate, I round a corner and I meet them.

A gang of five.

They're holding bars. They're holding dogs. The dogs start baying. The gangers smile when they see what they've found.

I scream, one long pitch of despair. They weren't banging any pans. I can see the street leading to my home. The dogs yowl. The noise that only those kind of dogs can make. Everything was so safe, so quiet a few seconds ago. I was free of Tarquin, free of Lenny, free of all the lies. I was racing home to be with everything that is left of Nan.

I was so very nearly there.

The boys laugh. I recognise some of their faces. I can see what's coming. I turn round. I run back the way I came. And I scream. I run and scream and run. No thoughts. Only Tarquin. Run. Faster. Keep going. Fast.

I glance back. They've loosed the dogs.

Don't stop. Don't fight. Not when two packs are on to you.