Damaged Goods (28 page)

Max nodded and looked at Barrows’ pocket. There was a longing in his eyes that Barrows might have found pitiable if he hadn’t been so disgusted. The pathetic, like the old and the disabled, had always repulsed him.

Lilly sang at the top of her voice in the shower and dragged a blunt razor across her armpits. It stung like hell but Brucie’s wig had to go. She flung open the curtain and looked at herself in the mirror. Excitement and hot water had flushed her cheeks with a healthy glow.

When two walkers meandered through the field at the back of the house she couldn’t resist a cheery wave. They seemed startled by the red-faced mad woman jiggling her breasts in their direction and hastened their pace.

She was still laughing when she headed to the kitchen to check the goat’s cheese tart she had thrown in the oven before her shower. The air was full of tangy promise when the bell rang.

‘Something smells good,’ said Jack, ‘and I know it’s not me.’

She handed him a cold beer, which he rolled across his forehead before taking a long and grateful swig.

When he spoke it was with his mouth around the bottle, his words whistling down the neck. ‘Charlene won’t talk, you know.’

‘Have you spoken to her?’ Lilly asked.

‘Don’t need to.’

Lilly knew he was right, and piled salad leaves on two plates and placed slices of tart alongside. The dark green against the creamy white of the cheese appealed to Lilly’s aesthetic sense of opposites attracting and complementing each other. Christ, she thought, I have gone far too long without sex.

‘I expect he’s been grooming her for weeks. She’s probably pissed off that I spoiled everything by turning up,’ Lilly said.

She watched him take a bite of the tart. She knew it was good but she also knew he was wondering if there’d be any seconds. She waited till he’d devoured the plateful.

‘That was delicious,’ he said.

Lilly whisked away his plate and whispered in his ear. ‘Don’t worry, that was the starter.’

‘Thank Christ for that.’

After two helpings of green curry, which fizzed with lemongrass and fresh ginger, they made their way to the living room. Lilly sat at one end of the sofa and Jack at the other. There was a substantial gap between them but he could easily have chosen another chair.

‘There’s ice cream,’ she said.

‘I’m stuffed.’

‘It’s home-made.’

‘I couldn’t.’

‘It’s chocolate.’

Without warning he leaned over to kiss her. The sudden lurch startled Lilly and instinctively she drew her head back.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice loaded with embarrassment.

‘Don’t be,’ she replied.

Jack was visibly cringing. ‘I misjudged the situation. I’m an idiot.’

Lilly laughed, edged along the sofa and touched the side of his face. ‘I don’t think so.’

She kissed him on the lips briefly, almost fleetingly, hardly a kiss at all.

‘Right then,’ he said.

‘Right then,’ she answered, and kissed him again.

He pushed her back against the sofa, his full weight on top of her. Lilly felt breathless, giddy. Within seconds they were partially undressed.

‘I’m going too fast,’ said Jack, ‘I’m sorry.’

What could she say? Actually, she loved it when a man skipped the small talk and foreplay.

He sat up and smoothed down his T-shirt. ‘Chocolate ice cream sounds good.’

He loped to the kitchen, zipping up his flies. Lilly closed her eyes. Dessert had not been part of her immediate plan. She should follow him now and demand uncompromising sex, or at least a return to their previous position.

She peeped around the kitchen door. ‘Wanna bring two spoons for that?’

But Jack had not even got to the fridge. He was leaning with both hands against the counter, his head down.

‘Jack?’ she said, and moved closer.

He didn’t move, transfixed by what was in front of him. It was Kelsey’s file.

‘You shouldn’t be looking at that,’ Lilly whispered, more afraid than outraged.

He turned slowly and looked at her, his eyes full of incredulity. Slowly he held up the letter from Kelsey to her mum. ‘You knew she’d done it all along.’

Lilly shook her head. ‘It doesn’t say that.’

‘It’s as good as a bloody confession. When the jury see that …’

Lilly interrupted. ‘They won’t see it.’

Jack was indignant. ‘I’ll take it to the CPS myself.’

‘It’s protected by client confidentiality.’

He laughed but it was hollow. ‘I suppose you’ve been having a good giggle about this with your pal, Jez.’

‘You’ll never know how far from the truth that is.’

He pointed at Lilly, his face contorted. ‘You’ve had me running around, trying to pin this rap on someone else.’

‘It’s not like that.’

‘Yes,’ he said sadly. ‘Yes, it is.’

He swept past her, knocking both the letter and the ice cream onto the floor.

When Lilly heard the slam of the door she sat next to the sticky puddle and cried.

Lilly drank the rest of the wine and crawled to bed at two. She fell into an uneasy sleep filled with images of Kelsey and, of course, Rochene. The dream stopped when it always did and Lilly awoke with her own tears soaking her pillow.

She tried to resist playing out the terrible scene but tonight it was futile. She didn’t have the strength.

Rochene couldn’t breathe. The walls around her closed in. She sang the songs her granny had taught her, the old songs passed down for hundreds of years.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ someone screamed from another cell.

Her solicitor said it would only be for a few days, that she’d have her out as soon as she could. Rochene had believed her. She seemed so nice with her curly red hair, and other travellers she knew had used her before. They trusted her and so had Rochene. But it had been nearly two weeks now.

Rochene sobbed silently until she could cry no more. Finally, when she was drained, she placed each of her belongings in a neat pile, the clothes folded, pencils returned to their case, toiletries wiped clean.

Lilly imagined the girl nodding, a smile of satisfaction tickling her mouth before she took a pair of jeans meticulously cut in two and hung herself.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Friday, 25 September

The weather broke and autumn arrived. Fresh air ran through the countryside like a blood transfusion. The population breathed a collective sigh of relief and shook their heads in faux dismay.

‘
That’s the summer gone then
.’

Lilly barely registered the drop in temperature and stood in the kitchen rubbing her bare arms.

‘What’s up, Mum?’ asked Sam.

How could he understand? The only decent man she’d met since David was gone. The relationship was dead before it was born, over some stupid kid who probably murdered her mother.

‘Nothing, big man.’

And there it was. The starkness of it frightening, yet crystal in its simplicity. Kelsey probably
had
killed Grace. The letter
was
a confession. The neighbour had seen her. Kelsey had lied about her voice and probably a lot of other things too. How could Lilly have been so stupid? She had been so desperate to evade the demons of a case from the past that she had failed to evaluate the details of the one in the present.

Up at Manor Park, the mothers were ahead of the game. The linen suits had been replaced by fitted trousers and shearling jackets from Boden. Only Lilly had failed to check in with the three-day forecast and still sported a vest top and goose bumps.

Penny waved. ‘Hi Lilly.’ She was gorgeous in a tan waistcoat, breathless with excitement. ‘I’ve got my first meeting today.’

Lilly was irritated. How was she supposed to know what this woman did from day to day?

‘Meeting with who?’

Lilly’s tone clearly stung Penny. ‘Social services. They’re going to take me through the steps to becoming a foster carer. I can’t wait to meet my first child.’

Lilly glowered. ‘They’re not pets, you know. These kids have problems. They set fires, wet themselves and nick anything that’s not nailed down. I’ve one client who likes to masturbate at the dinner table with her chicken nuggets and another who keeps his shit in a shoebox under his bed. A few cuddles and a bedtime story won’t make it all go away.’

Penny turned on her heel. ‘I didn’t for one moment think it would.’

Lilly sighed. She had been grossly unfair and would have gone after Penny to apologise, but she was already late for her next appointment.

Max sat in his car and waited. He was edgy, given what he was about to do. Who wouldn’t be? He scissored his knees and rapped the ring on his middle finger against the window. He had spent the night in a friend’s flat on the north side of the estate. Well, not really a friend, just some guy he knew around the Clayhill. They’d clubbed together to buy ten grams of coke and spent the first part of the night washing it into stones, planning to at least double their outlay.

Max had used the rest of Barrows’ money but he hadn’t been worried, the profit margin on crack was huge. This way he wouldn’t need to take the plane ticket. Fuck it, he’d buy one himself.

He couldn’t remember when they’d agreed to toot the first one but it had seemed like a good idea. The merchandise needed testing.

By five in the morning the stash was almost gone, and Max was so wired he punched his friend in the mouth. His hand was numb from the drugs and he’d felt nothing when his fist connected, but the sickening squelch and the arc of blood told Max the blow had been a hard one.

He’d taken the remaining rocks and left his friend dribbling obscenities and spitting out teeth.

When dawn arrived Max had an empty wallet and bruised knuckles. With so much stimulant in his system he hadn’t a prayer of getting any sleep. Most users took opiates to help with the comedown but Max wouldn’t touch brown on account of what it had done to Gracie. Instead, he circled the estate over and over, his mind galloping in time with his step.

Got to get away. Got to get away. Got to get away.

He needed that plane ticket but there was only one way to get it. Barrows. Charlene.

But how could he put them together with the redhead around?

He couldn’t let anyone stand in his way.

At nine he’d called the bitch’s office and had been told Miss Valentine would be out all morning on a prison visit. It didn’t take a genius to work out who she was going to see, so he decided to get there before her.

He thought he’d just scare her. Make sure she saw him following her. After the business in Gracie’s flat it might see her off, stop her interfering.

Now, as he watched her car pull into the car park, he wasn’t so sure that would be enough.

Lilly had thought about it long and hard. She’d wrestled with her conscience and weighed the options. Eventually she came to the conclusion that she could no longer represent Kelsey. The kid would be gutted and Miriam would probably never speak to her again. Word would spread and Lilly’s practice would be decimated, but it was still the right thing to do. She could not do a good job when she had serious doubts about Kelsey’s guilt. She deserved to be represented by someone who believed in her, not a doubting Thomas.

As Lilly pulled into Parkgate she rehearsed what she intended to say.

‘I’ll ensure you get another brief immediately, and of course you’ll keep Jez and Sheba. I have a meeting with them this afternoon when I’ll sort it all out.’

She walked to the passenger side to collect her papers. Although phones had to be turned off inside she slid her mobile into her jacket pocket where it stood less chance of being stolen.

‘I know you’re upset and that’s understandable, but please believe me that this is for the best,’ said Lilly, still practising her spiel.

‘Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.’

Lilly couldn’t see the speaker but she felt his presence close behind her and instantly recognised his voice. She looked around the car park for help, but as usual it was desolate.

She forced herself to remain calm. ‘What do you want?’

‘For you to do what I tell you.’

Lilly felt her throat begin to freeze and swallowed hard, forcing the airway to stay open.

‘And if I refuse?’

She heard his breath crackle and felt something hard pressing into the small of her back.

‘If you refuse I’ll finish what I started that night in Gracie’s flat.’

Max guided her to his car with his right arm, his left keeping the pressure of his knife firmly in place. Lilly gauged the distance to the prison entrance. It would take less than a minute if she went at full pelt, but could she outrun Max? One glimpse of her captor told her that if she couldn’t he would kill her instantly. His eyes were bloodshot and she had been around enough addicts to recognise the smell of crack on his clothes.

He opened the door of a familiar BMW, pushed her into the back seat and got in beside her. Her bowels lurched when she saw rope and duct tape on the floor.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

‘Shut up,’ he said.

He tied her hands together and ripped off a single piece of tape with his teeth.

‘Please don’t,’ she begged. ‘I won’t speak, I won’t make a sound.’

Max shook his head and placed it over her mouth. ‘I’d like to believe you, but you women just can’t help yourselves.’

He pushed her sideways so her hands were trapped beneath her and her cheek rested against the old leather of the seat.

Lilly was concentrating so hard on breathing that they had driven a few miles before she realised she had wet herself.

Max rubbed his cheek. His skin felt alive, like ants were moving under the surface. He told himself it was just the comedown from the drugs. After all, he had caned it last night.

And yet it seemed more than that. His dreams were imploding, and without them what had he got? No family. No Gracie. Nothing. Nothing at all.

He shot the solicitor a glimpse. Even now when he had her cornered she was lying there like butter wouldn’t melt. Like she was in control.

He could see in her eyes that she thought he was scum, that he was stupid. He saw the same look on Barrows’ face every time they met.

Well, they’d both got it wrong and Max would show them just what he was made of.

Lilly caught him looking at her, his eyes sly, furtive. She tried to seem calm, in control, and hoped he couldn’t smell the urine that burnt her legs.

In films the victim of a kidnap has to try to remember significant things about their journey so that they can work out where they have been taken, but Lilly couldn’t even have guessed how long she’d been on the back seat, her cheek bumping rhythmically against it.

For minutes, maybe hours, Lilly concentrated solely on breathing, terrified that she would pass out, the adrenalin pumping through her and making her dizzy. At last she forced herself to take note of her surroundings. How could she formulate a plan to get out of this if she didn’t even know where she was?

She was disorientated both by fear and her position, but she was sure she was still on a main road. She could hear other cars, and Max slowed and quickened as if in traffic. She could only see the top of things, office blocks and lampposts. Where on earth was she? Where was Max taking her?

Lilly tried to ease her head up to get a better view but it was impossible. She pushed down on her hands but they had lost all feeling. She was about to give up when a bus pulled alongside. Inside she could see a man in the window seat reading a paper. Behind him two girls giggled and whispered to one another behind their hands. If Lilly could see them they must be able to see her if only they would look down. She urged the man to turn from the news and look to his right, willed the girls to notice a handsome boy passing on a cycle and at the same time to notice the woman bound and gagged only feet away.

Her instinct was to shout but the tape muffled every sound.

If she kicked hard against the glass might they hear it? Probably not above the sounds of the street with its cars, sirens and road works. Still, she had to try.

She shuffled onto her back and tucked in her knees, preparing to push her feet upwards.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Max, and flashed the silver of his knife.

Lilly sank back into the seat. Soon the office blocks became tower blocks and Lilly realised where Max was taking her.

He didn’t know where he was going until he pulled up outside the flat. Then it seemed obvious. This was where it had all started to go wrong for Max, and this was where it had to end.

At the top of the stairs Lilly willed Mrs Mitchell to be keeping guard and turned her head to display the tape. Surely she’d realise Lilly was in trouble.

Max emitted another low crackle as if his throat were raw. ‘Unlucky. The nosy bitch ain’t in.’ He opened the door to Grace’s flat. ‘Her old man snuffed it last night and she’s down the morgue.’

Until that moment Lilly had been cold, unable to take in what was happening, but the thought of that tiny old man, whose last years had been spent as a prisoner, a hostage to both his body and his bitter wife, was unbearable. Her shoulders began to heave in silent sobs and soon her eyes began to fill. Not long behind her eyes came her nose, suddenly blocked by thick streams of mucus, and her sadness turned to panic as she realised she couldn’t breathe. She snorted hard but this seemed only to push the blockage deeper.

She opened her mouth to scream but her lips were sealed.

When Max pushed her inside the flat she fell to the floor, gyrating, her body racked by convulsions as she tried to fight for air.

‘Stop it, woman,’ shouted Max, but Lilly couldn’t. Like a fish pulled from the sea she lay on the deck fighting only herself.

When her head repeatedly banged against the skirting board Max bent over her and pulled off the tape with a vicious flick of his fingers and stuck it to his sleeve.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he shouted, but Lilly could only gulp in the air in greedy rasping mouthfuls.

He cut the tape around her hands with one vicious swipe of his knife and pinned her arms above her head.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he repeated.

She lay on her back until her breathing became steady, with Max straddled across her. When her chest quietened she looked up into the face of her kidnapper and saw that he was out of his mind.

‘Why did you have to stick your nose in, get involved in stuff that ain’t got nothing to do with you?’ he asked. ‘You should have let me alone, let things be.’

His face was inches from hers, in a twisted version of the position she had been in with Jack less than twenty-four hours ago. Horror seeped through her. She literally felt it start in her toes and worm its way upwards, burrowing into every cell, leaving its paralysing poison. Lilly knew that if she didn’t do something before it reached her chest she would pass out or lie there immobile while Max cut out her heart.

Lilly’s body became rubber, unresponsive, and Max’s nostrils began to flare like a wild bull. She sensed herself on the precipice without any idea of what to do next, but commanded herself to stay calm.

They say that in the moment before death your whole life flashes before your eyes, a seamless sequence of events that make perfect sense. Lilly experienced nothing so cerebral. Instead she could smell the soft caramel of her son’s head and feel the warmth of his cheek on her lips.

If she’d known she was going to die like this she would have done it all so differently. She would have stayed with David and ignored his affairs. It would have hurt like hell but Sam would have had his father with him instead of competing for attention with a pampered anorexic. She needn’t have worked so the poor kid could have had his mum at home like the rest of his friends instead of being shunted from pillar to post like an unwanted parcel.
Oh Sam, if only I’d known. If
…

Laughter rang out in another room. It was so familiar. What on earth was Sam doing here? No, not Sam, but Elsa. Lilly could hear her mother laughing.

‘Oh my girl,’ said the familiar voice in the distance. ‘
If
ifs and buts were apples and nuts we should never go hungry
.’