Breaking East (2 page)

On the way home I dropped by Bastion Square to say ‘Hi’ to Mum. It had been almost six years since the Law had beaten her to death and I wasn’t the only one that couldn’t forget her. People round our way have long memories. A splash of colour rested at the base of the monument - forget-me-nots. ‘Who keeps bringing these to you, Mum?’ Crouching down talking to a patch on the ground might seem weird to some, but I’ve never cared too much about what people think. ‘They’re extra pretty today, must be the light in the raindrops.’

I chose my words carefully. Mum reckoned that for me to do as well as she hoped, I’d have to learn to talk BBC-speak like an old-fashioned newsreader; definitely no foul language. It’s the only thing I recalled her asking of me so I intended to make sure I kept to it. From the day she got killed, I’ve never dropped an ‘F’ or ‘C’ type word, no matter how pushed. I rearranged the flowers, bunching them together to pretty them up, opening the bow a little wider - yellow ribbon, nice touch.

I don’t bring anything. I don’t stand and pray, kneel, kiss the ground or weep into my sleeve. My dad had reckoned she wouldn’t like any of that. All I do is drop by now and then to let her know life’s treating me okay. That, she’d appreciate. And to tell her I’m happy. After all, it’s what she’d fought and died for.

The rain stopped but the purply clouds hung heavy and dark. I looked forward to getting home and curling up with the cats and a decent cup of Hot Blue. Joe’s black market tea left an after taste like stale pee. Blue Juice hardly fitted the rock-chick image I liked to go for, but innocent indulgence and all that. I ran down the disused train tracks - fast - three sleepers a stride. I lived in an old train carriage parked in a tunnel under the M4; nobody could call it a palace, but I called it home and it suited me, scruffy but solid: unique but cosy.

Joe had tried to persuade me to move in with him, but facing Joe in his boxers every morning didn’t appeal to me in the slightest. He must be at least fifty – no exaggeration. He shaved his head to try and hide the fact he was balding and still tried to carry off a young-buck swagger. All that was embarrassing enough, but there was always a steady stream of middle-aged and desperate women sniffing about. I didn’t want to see them either, scurrying the landing in their knickers. Besides, I liked the freedom of living alone.

Fran was waiting for me on the steps. I hadn’t seen her in a while and she didn’t look great.

‘Hey, how’re you doing?’ I gave her a half hug. ‘Ugh, sorry I’m all soggy. Why didn’t you go on in and wait in the warm?’ The Law paid regular visits, smashed their way in if they had to, so leaving the door open saved me the trouble of building a new one every month or so.

She shrugged. ‘Manners I suppose. Knocked into me from birth.’

I studied her face to get a feel of what she might be thinking. She’d had it rough as a kid and been beaten about a fair bit, but it was rare she mentioned it. ‘Everything okay, Fransie? It’s not like you to be so gloomy. What’s happened to all that chirpy optimism? You know, all that cheery joy that irritates the hell out of me?’

‘I’m okay.’ But her smile was a little too slow in coming and a little too weak when it got there.

‘Sit yourself down, I’m just going to get out of this wet stuff and we’ll have a girly chat, yeah? Where’s the bubs?’

‘I’ve left her with her daddy for the evening. He goes out often enough. It’s my turn. I wanted to come and congratulate you on finishing your course.’

‘Ah cheers. You’re a pal.’

After my shower I got dressed into some dry and comfy clothes. Many a time Fran had been the one who came round and talked all night, laughed and cried with me when I got down about my dad. Too many times she’d picked me out of the gutter, tucked me into bed and hugged me until I slept. Now it looked like she might need me and I was determined to be a good mate. I called to her from the kitchenette, my head in the fridge. ‘What are we drinking? Hot Blue? And nibbles? Do you fancy something to eat? Or shall we go out? My treat.’

‘Whatever.’

I grabbed a bottle and a bag of snacks. ‘We haven’t had a night in, just the two of us, since you had Stacey.’ Her boyfriend didn’t let her out often, a bit of a knob-head as far as I could make out, but she said he was enough. And people like Fran were happy to settle for enough no matter how many times I told her she deserved better. It was her life, her choice. Keeping on might have cost us our friendship so I’d learned to shut up. After all we’d been friends forever. Fran used to come around my house when we were little kids and we’d play warriors and princesses. Calling us close friends didn’t quite cut it. We still played and fought with the confidence of sisters.  Not something to be chucked away lightly.

She smiled at me. ‘How’s Gavin?’

‘It’s not happening, Fran. I told you. He’s a player and I’m not up for getting messed about by the likes of him.’

‘You could always play him. He’s fit, right?’

Just thinking about Gavin made me squirm in my seat. ‘Yeah, he’s fit.’ One whole night we’d had together - one. I thought I’d found my man for life. He’d treated me kind and didn’t push for more than I wanted to give, but the next day he went back to his easty girlfriend like I hadn’t happened. Then he came sniffing around again.

Fran chewed her lip. ‘But it’s definitely all over with him and that easty girl for good this time, right?’

‘So he says.’ I flapped my hand in a dismissive gesture and lowered my voice to mock Gavin’s husky tones. ‘Ah, Atty hunny. She meant nothing. It’s only ever been you I want.’ I snorted and finished the Blue out of my glass.

‘Well?’ she said. ‘It‘s probably true. How many cross-river relationships do you know that last longer than five minutes?’

‘I don’t care.’ I sounded proper sulky. ‘It’s rubbish, Fran. Jeesh. No way am I letting him near me again. He’d say anything to try and get me into bed. No more guys for me – especially, no more Gavin.’

She shrugged. ‘Shame. You’d look so good together. You deserve to be happy.’

‘Please let’s not get all Aunt Agony about it. I know, let’s not talk about it at all, eh?’

So we didn’t, we chatted about all other sorts of nonsense but not Gavin. I told her about the class and my putting the self-defence instructor on his backside. She laughed until she cried.

Later, when we’d drank and ate a little too much junk, and we lay stretched out, belching, she looked at me real hard. ‘Thanks for being such a good mate. I love you, you know?’

‘Shush now, Fran. You’re getting carried away with the moment. A full belly always did turn you all soft and emotional.’ I grinned. ‘And the tunnel trance of course.’

There’s this atmosphere in the tunnel at night. The blackness is dense, total, and it feels like nothing else exists. Many a secret has been exchanged in the sort of surrealistic vacuum. It brings out the weirdness and rawness of people more effectively than any drug of choice, even the local ubiquitous lemondrop.

She shook her head. ‘It’s not just that. I’ve always wished I could be more like you, do you know that?’

There is a skill to taking compliments and I don’t have it. They make me fidget and blush. ‘Well I’ve always wished I could be more like you. You with your long blonde hair, cute little bum.’ I looked down and slapped at my thunder thighs. ‘You wouldn’t want to be me.’

She shook her head and turned to look out of a window at the dense blue-black beyond her reflection. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh I would. I so would.’

‘What’s up, Fran? Tell me.’

A single fat tear ran down her face, she wiped it off her jaw and sniffed. ‘Life’s just pretty grim sometimes, that’s all.’

I curled up next to her, my head on her shoulder. ‘Nothing is ever so bad.’ I reached to steal her last crisp thinking she’d shove me away and we’d laugh.

She watched me eat it and said, ‘I’m not so sure.’

Dreams of Gav kept me awake and angry. Fran had lifted the lid at the memory of that night. The guy had left a stain deep inside, and it throbbed, niggling away at my resolve. He was fit all right. And sometimes even I needed a bit of company.

The dead-of-night-silence made my thoughts difficult to switch off and the rats had stopped scurrying under the carriage long before I finally went to sleep.

A text from Joe woke me:
I have a job for you.
My head felt thick with too many unsaid words and my mood refused to lift. If Joe wanted to put me on another poxy listening-to-wives-prattle job I’d have to tell him to stick it. I loved Joe but he needed to accept I was a big girl now and give me some big girl jobs.

When I arrived at the caff, I felt well fired up for putting him straight. ‘What’s up?’

‘You wanted a job? I’ve got just the thing. It’s perfect for you.’

‘By perfect I suppose you mean it’s safe and cushy.’

He pursed his lips and tilted his head. ‘Mm. Might be safe, might even be cushy, but it comes with enormous responsibility.’ There were a few kids sitting drinking tea at a table in the window, wasting away the morning. Joe gestured for me to go through to the backroom where all his serious deals went down. ‘It’s also a way for you to earn a good reputation for yourself,’ he said and closed the door behind us.

That’s what I needed. Nobody ever saw me as Atty, just my parent’s kid. ‘What do I have to do? I hope it gets me out.’

‘Not right out of Basley, but it’s based over east. There’s a couple of kids that need keeping an eye on.’

‘Babysitting?’

‘Not exactly. The boy, Stuart, he’s a year older than you.’

‘So what does he need me for?’

‘He’s a regular east-side kid,’ said Joe as if it explained everything. It kind of did in a way. Easty kids tended to be a lot less street savvy. If they had a problem, they threw money at it. If that didn’t work they were pretty much snooked. Joe checked the water in the kettle he kept on a tray in the corner. ‘Their mum isn’t around at the moment and he and his little sister have been left home alone. People up high are worried the Law might get twitchy. You know how quick they are to move in on under-occupied houses at the best of times. Two easty kids alone would be really soft targets.’

‘What about the dad?’ I asked. ‘And what people up high?’

‘The dad’s around but remarried.’

‘But he can still look out for them. Besides, what’s so special about these kids to get you involved?’ My imagination was already running ideas around. Either the mum must be taking part in something dodgy somewhere or Joe was on a wind-up and trying to make me feel important.

Joe sighed. ‘Atty. How many times have I told you? It’s this constant questioning and wanting to know every damn detail which is holding you back. You’re given a task so just go and do it. It’s not your place to question why. And this is a request from very high, directly from the top ― M. Gee, no less. Nobody questions her orders. Ever.’

He wasn’t wrong there. M. Gee had enough money to run the resistance for many years to come. Not only did she keep the finances in the black but she ran some major projects. A big player. Ruthless but fair according to her reputation. If I wanted promotion, she was the right woman to impress.

I looked at Joe hard. ‘You’d better not be lying to me.’

‘No. I’m not but it’s probably best you don’t know any more than I’ve already told you. Stop you reading too much into nothing.’ He kept a straight face and looked fatally serious. ‘If you get this right you will definitely be on the fast track to some major jobs. Outside.’ He handed me a thin file. Inside were two photos and an address. Both kids looked smelly rich but cute. ‘Get it wrong and you’re in deep, deep shit.’

I looked into Joe’s eyes, he meant business. He’d listened to me and he’d found me something worth doing. I just needed to get the job done right. ‘Okay, but I need to know what I’m looking out for.’

‘You need to make sure Stuart looks after his kid sister and doesn’t get himself into any trouble. Without him knowing you’re there of course. It should be a doddle - yes, safe and cushy, but like I said, if all goes well and the mum gets back to happy kids, M Gee might pick you for all sorts of jobs in the future.’ Joe picked two mugs out of the cupboard to put next to the kettle.

I put one of the cups away again. ‘Not for me. In a rush.’ I smiled to soften the blow. Joe was ridiculously proud of that urinary tea. ‘But yes, okay. I’ll take the job. Starting right now.’

‘You can do this, Atty. Any doubts just come and speak to me, yeah? I want a daily report. And I do want you to do well, you know.’

Yeah, I knew. I grinned, almost gave him a hug, almost. But we didn’t do hugs.

I took a casual stroll around the border separating the west from the east. Parts of the cage shone brighter and sharper - newer - from where the Reds had stitched up the holes. I picked up a stick and reached to touch the barbs. No buzz, whine or flash. The camera on top of a post whirred. I dropped the stick and turned away.

Crossing through the checkpoint at the bridge took me almost twenty minutes because I queued quietly and waited my turn. I saw no bluebottle-eyed Red and no journalist, and nobody asked where I was going or why. Perhaps Joe had been right and all that chat about new laws would amount to nothing. The address I needed lay deep on the east side, so far east it was almost outside Basley towards the edge of the county border. I didn’t mind the run, it helped me think. I’d been given my chance to shine and I was determined to focus and do a good job.

The house turned out to be easy to find, nestled at the end of one of the poshest streets. It might as well have been called Stinky-rich Avenue off Tax-exempt Close. The majority of residents were old and carried tell-tale signs of loyalty to the Law - posters in windows, little badges on their lapels. They must have been right peeved to have two left-alone kids in their midst. Talk about lowering the tone. Not to mention the house prices.

I watched Stuart drop his kid sister Gemma at the small local school near where they lived. It had that nice cosy east-side community feel to it, what with the mumsies and kiddy-winks all in pretty flouncy dresses and bows in their hair. Stuart and Gemma looked a little out of place, mainly because of Gemma. If I’d been asked to guess, I’d have said she’d ran out of clean clothes and resorted to dragging out the dressing-up box to make up the shortfall.

As for Stuart, well, the photo didn’t do him justice. He stood at least six-two in his bare feet and had massive shoulders, square and solid. The sun-bleached hair ruffed into a precise tousle and his clothes hung a trend-setting sleek. He must have spent time and serious money to get that look. If he hadn’t been a soft easty I might have even called him hot.

But it didn’t take me long to suspect Stuart felt edgy. He walked quickly, scanning the streets the whole while, and spent a great deal of time ducking behind cars and darting around corners dodging the Reds. The Law were having a massive recruitment drive and loved to approach guys like Stuart. They liked nothing more than coaxing a good, rich, easty kid onto the dark side. Perhaps M Gee thought he might need a little help fending them off. If so, and that’s all the job entailed, then I was in for a very easy ride.

The first couple of days passed as smooth and cushy as Joe would have hoped. I fell into a neat routine where I watched the kids go to school, slept for a few hours and followed them home again. Only the privileged got to go to school and take exams. Qualifications had little to do with brains and more to do with bank balances. Naturally, one led to the other, and so the cycle continued.

Each night I reported to Joe and each night he warned me against getting complacent, but the truth was, I wanted something to happen. I wanted to prove I could do more than hang about watching others live their lives.

On day three I turned up outside their house for the school-run as usual. Stuart and Gemma bundled their way out through their front door, Stuart dressed in a tee with
I’ll show you mine
… across the front and looking ball-dropping knackered, Gemma in some sort of pink, frilly fairy dress and purple wellies. I’ve never been one for kids, but she was pretty in a quirky kind of way, and funny. She chatted constantly and looked up at Stuart like he was her very own superman. He answered her as if she was a mini adult with long, complex sentences which would bore the pants off a professor. ‘I have a Mandarin exam this morning, Gemma, three hours long. It’s crucial for international relations as well as business …’ Yawn, yawn. But Gemma listened and nodded. ‘Yes, Stuart. Absolutely, Stuart.’ Sweet.

As they crossed the road, Gemma dragging her bag and cardi in the grit and dirt, an old man with a walking stick hobbled to meet them. Gemma crouched down to stroke his dog. Stuart nodded, smiled and fielded the old geezer’s questions like a pro. I removed my earpins. It looked like another day when he wouldn’t be needing any help from me. I waited until they were several metres ahead and followed them down the street. Gemma paused to stare at a limo parked outside an old newsagents and Stuart grabbed her hand to encourage her along. Even the east didn’t have such fancy cars hanging around at random, perhaps funerals and the odd wedding but it definitely wasn’t the norm, so I filed away the details, just in case. Driver – big, beefy, mid-forties. Passenger – suit, black hair, greasy looking, same age-ish. They appeared enthralled by something on a sheet of paper the passenger held between them.

Stuart waved Gemma into school and upped his pace, checking his watch as he headed off to the old comp. Easy jobs equalled dull, but as I followed several meters behind, I amused myself fantasising about M Gee calling me up, thanking me personally, offering me a promotion, right-hand girl … a tad delusional maybe, but fun.