Mesmeris (7 page)

‘You look cool,’ Jess said, ‘like a rock star after a mega night out.’

I laughed, felt my stomach muscles relax a little. Maybe I’d be able to get away. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. I reached for my phone. It wasn’t there. I searched my pockets, tried to remember where I’d put it.

‘What’s up?’ Jess said.

‘My phone – it’s gone.’ I knelt on the floor and went through my bag, through every pocket, trying to hide my desperation. ‘I need to ring home.’

Jess handed me her phone. I couldn’t remember the mobile numbers, so rang the house. I held my breath. It rang, and rang - and rang. No reply. I wanted to smash something and scream the place down. Instead, I turned away from the girls to hide my face. They were busy examining themselves in the mirror anyway. I looked at the ceiling and blinked until
the tears went away. Then I took a deep breath, and forced my mouth into a smile. I turned around.

‘Ready?’ I said.

Abbi and Jess walked straight past the boys waiting outside. Dim waved something in front of my face. I reached for it but he snatched my phone away and they laughed like two-year-olds.

Miss Ellis spotted me. ‘Stay near me, Pearl,’ she said.

‘I’m fine, Miss.’

‘Well, you don’t look it. I want to keep an eye on you.’

So I stayed near her, like an infant, surprised she didn’t hold my hand. I watched the boys. Watched them disappear in turn and come back, hyped-up and twitchy. Watched their eyes darken, their pupils enlarge. Heard their laughter change, grow louder, more brittle, more unnerving.

In my head, plans formed and died. How to escape from Miss Ellis. How to escape from the boys. How to get home. Buses – there were loads of them. Trouble was, I didn’t know where they went. It would have to be a train, the Underground, the Tube. All I had to do was find a station and there were stations everywhere, all over London. If I walked far enough, I’d find one.

So, I wandered around the gallery, oblivious to the art, and waited for my chance. Just before lunch, Miss Ellis gathered us together for a talk. ‘Free afternoon,’ she shouted, ‘but I want everyone back at the coach at four o’clock – on the dot.’ She looked at something behind me and frowned.

Jenkins and Collins had each other in a headlock. They staggered back and knocked a little girl off her feet. ‘Shit!’ Jenkins said. He and Collins shouted with laughter.

There was a second’s delay before the girl cried. Her high-pitched wails grew louder and louder, drowning out Miss Ellis’s furious shouts. ‘You two, get here now.’

The boys ignored her, crying with laughter. Tipper patted Jenkins on the back in congratulation as passers-by stared at them. Miss Ellis’s face turned purple.

The father picked the little girl up in his arms. ‘For goodness’ sake,’ he said. He stroked the child’s head and murmured comfort. Her cries gradually eased to snuffles. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and stared at Miss Ellis with huge, watery eyes.

‘Are you in charge of these yobs?’ the man said.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Miss Ellis said.

Everyone’s attention was on the boys. Their attention was on each other, not on me.

I whispered in Jess’s ear. ‘I’m going home, okay?’

She turned. ‘What?’

I thought Tipper’s eyes slid towards us, just for an instant, but when I looked, he was laughing with the others.

‘I don’t feel well. Tell Miss Ellis for me?’

‘Okay, but . . .’

I doubled back into the Turbine hall and ran up the sloping floor, out into the biting wind. It blew off the river, whipped my hair across my face. I pulled my hood up and ran down the road, then realised no one else was running. I forced myself to walk, so hard to do when every instinct was screeching at me to hurry.

The road ended in a confusion of building work – trucks, hoardings, cranes and red plastic barriers. Workmen with pneumatic drills hammered at the pavement. The sound juddered through my skull. There were no signs for the tube station, which gave me a one in three chance of getting it right. I didn’t have time to hang about so turned left and hoped like hell Southwark underground station would be around the next corner.

I took a quick look over my shoulder. No sign of the boys although they could have hidden anywhere – amongst the people, behind the hoardings, behind the lorries. I took long, long strides, stretched my legs as far as they would go. It helped, moving quickly, made me feel I was getting somewhere. Something didn’t look right, though. There weren’t many people about and none that looked like tourists. The coffee shops and restaurants had fizzled out and there were only office blocks and building sites. I considered turning back, but was afraid of bumping into the boys so decided to do a loop.

It began to rain, hard little drops blown in the wind that stung like tiny needles when they hit my skin. I turned right. Here, the street was almost empty. Just two people, two men, walking. One of them strode out purposefully, as if he knew where he was going so I followed him, hoped he was going to the station. The street grew shabbier. No people now except the guy in front of me. He stopped at a scruffy block of flats – brown, dirty, rundown. He disappeared into a doorway. Ahead, the road was empty. Empty – in the middle of bloody London, where millions of people lived and worked. The only sounds were the hum of distant traffic, the rumble of trains, and the whoosh of blood in my ears.

I started to run back, then changed my mind. It was too late. I’d come too far. Anyway, perhaps it was just as well. The boys would never look for me here. They’d expect me to go to the tube station, not into the back streets of Southwark. It was a good thing. The perfect way to lose them – to lose myself.

More confident now, I went on. Ahead of me stood a railway arch; dark, wet and slimy. I stopped, reluctant to go into the blackness. Stupid, childish, to be afraid of the dark. I walked through. Nothing happened, of course. No monsters jumped out at me. No junkies pounced on me. There was nobody there at all.

The other side was some kind of railway intersection. On every side of me were railway bridges, coated in thick, black soot and ahead – a dead end.

I stared at the brick wall that blocked my way. Stared, as if that would make it move, make it disappear.

I had no choice. I turned back. The rain blew horizontally, straight into my face. I pulled my hood as tightly as possible, put my head down, and walked back towards the railway arch.

‘Miller, you’re a star! Couldn’t have picked anywhere better myself.’

I stopped dead. They were standing in the shadows - the last human beings on earth I wanted to see.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I froze.

They were still ten metres or so from me, watching to see what I would do. I wasn’t about to give up. There might be someone around the next corner, a normal person, a mum with kids, an office worker who’d help me. I wasn’t a great runner but there was a reasonable chance I’d get to the next street before they caught me. They laughed. I couldn’t see what was funny until I spun around and stumbled into Dim. He grabbed my arm, dug his fingers into my flesh. Without thinking, I swung my fist around and punched him hard on the nose.

He screamed, a wordless cry of pain, and released my arm. Dark red blood spurted everywhere. ‘Fuck! Fuck!’ He staggered backwards, hand over his nose.

I don’t know why I hesitated – surprised at the amount of blood, I suppose. I dropped my bag too late, ran, fast but not fast enough. I almost reached the corner of the street before an arm caught around my middle, and yanked me back. I screamed. He clamped a hand over my mouth and had my arms pinned to my side in seconds. I tried to bite him but he was clever. It was obvious he’d done it before.

I kicked back, tried to get his shins with my heel, to stamp on his foot.

He was quick, avoided my feet. He held me tighter, jerked my head back against his shoulder.

‘Miller, stop!’ he shouted in my ear. ‘Stop or I’ll break your neck.’

What made me think I could outrun Collins? He ran for the school, for God’s sake. He ran for the county.

‘That’s better.’ He took his hand away from my mouth, loosened his grip on my arms. Excruciating pain pulsed through my shoulders, made me wonder if he’d dislocated them.

Tipper and the others sauntered towards us, in no hurry. Jenkins rifled through my bag as he walked.

I cried – a feeble attempt to make Collins let me go.

‘Shit,’ he said, agitated. ‘Why didn’t you go with the others, for fuck’s sake?’

‘Let me go.’ I tried a little choking sob. ‘Please.’

‘I can’t.’ He gave my arms another tug. ‘Christ, Miller, just shut it.’

It was too late anyway. The others were already there.

‘Give her here.’ Jenkins gripped my wrists. pulled them behind my back. The sharp tug made me yelp.

Collins walked off and leaned against the wall. He lit a cigarette and looked away.

‘My, my,’ Tipper drawled, ‘you are a fiery little witch, aren’t you? I’d never have guessed - Look what you’ve done to my friend Dim there. Tut! Tut!’

Dim glared at me, holding his nose. Blood dripped down his jacket. I felt quite pleased with myself. Perhaps it showed on my face.

Dim’s face contorted. ‘Fuckin’ slag.’ He smacked me hard across the head, knocking me back into Jenkins’s chin.

‘Oi!’ Jenkins said.

My head filled with a hissing noise, and yet I felt no pain, just numbness, as if I’d been to the dentist. Dim pulled his hand back to hit me again. Tipper caught his wrist.

‘Plenty of time for fun and games later,’ he said. ‘Somewhere a little less public, maybe.’ He shot Dim a pained look. ‘Try to clean yourself up, Dimbo.’ He looked him up and down. ‘You’re showing us up.’

Dim wiped his face with his sleeve.

‘Here.’ Tipper stuck his hand in my coat pocket and pulled out a tissue. He threw it at Dim who dabbed at his nose. Bits of paper stuck to the drying blood and, bizarrely, it seemed funny. Hysteria, I suppose. I laughed. Collins glared a warning and, suddenly, punching Dim’s nose didn’t seem like such a good move.

Jenkins pushed me back towards the dripping railway arch. Tipper turned left, down a narrow alley. There was no way I was going down there. Walls, black and green with slime. Syringes, fag ends, bottles and cans littered the ground. God knows what else was down there.

I struggled and screamed, tried to twist out of Jenkins’s grasp. It was so dark in there - filthy.

‘Christ,’ Jenkins said, as I managed to turn enough to knee him. I caught his thigh though, couldn’t get enough distance to really hurt him. ‘She’s a fuckin’ she-devil.’

‘Give her to me, loser.’ Dim pushed Jenkins out of the way and picked me up from behind, right off the ground, wrapped me in a bear hug so I couldn’t move. ‘Gonna kill you, you fuckin’ bitch. You hear me?’ he muttered in my ear. ‘You’re gonna wish you’d never been born.’ I flung my head back, felt the top of my head hit his chin. It had no effect. He didn’t even bother to stop me screaming. Nobody was going to come to investigate, not there. I kicked my heel back and caught his knee, scraped it down his shin. He swore, even started to limp, but it made no difference. He just squeezed me harder, didn’t loosen his grip at all.

I kept thinking, hoping, they wouldn’t really hurt me, not badly, even though I’d succeeded in infuriating Dim. They were thugs, yes, but I’d never heard of them hurting girls.

The alley opened out onto a small road. At first, it was a relief to be out of the oppressive, narrow passage. A road meant traffic, and maybe people. But the road was empty, except for a parked van and motorbike further along.

‘Perfect.’ Tipper pointed at a small rubbish yard, just off the street, hemmed in on three sides by tall, black brick buildings.

Dim dropped me onto my feet, and pushed me into the yard. I staggered to get my balance. My shoulders stung, throbbed. I opened and closed my fists to get the blood circulating back into my hands. The stench of stale urine, beer, rotting food, and something else, probably vomit, filled the air, turned my stomach. I looked for an escape route. No doors opened onto the yard. What windows there were, were several floors up and either broken, boarded up, or thick with dust and grime. There were two rubbish skips, overflowing with garbage, black bin bags everywhere, a couple of Rentokil rat traps - not nearly enough for that place.

The boys stood, their backs to the only exit and stared at me, all except Collins. He looked out into the street, smoking and keeping a look out. The others stared at me as if they didn’t know what to do with me.

‘Look,’ I said, my whole body trembling. ‘Just let me go and I won’t say anything, I promise.’

Tipper smiled. ‘Can’t do that.’

‘Please,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, Aaron. Sorry I hurt you.’ Dim’s smile told me I was wasting my breath. ‘I just want to go home - please.’ I sounded like a child, lip wobbling and everything.

‘Don’t worry, Miller.’ Tipper put on a fake sympathetic smile. ‘We’re going to look after you.’

He stroked my hair, lifted it to his face and sniffed it.

I swallowed, felt sick. ‘I’m sorry.’ I tried to hide my fear but couldn’t stop the tears seeping out of the corners of my eyes.

Tipper cupped my face in his hand. ‘Tut, tut, look at you! ’ He shook his head. ‘What a state. Too late to be sorry, I’m afraid. You have to learn some respect. Not only have you injured one of my friends,’ he waved a hand in Dim’s direction, ‘but you touched me. And no one touches me – no one.’ He shoved his face up against mine. ‘Got it?’ His spittle sprayed my face.

I nodded, licked my lips. ‘Yes – yes. And I do – I do respect you – respect you and – and – Aaron too – and . . .’

‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘That’s good but not quite good enough. You see, you and your boyfriend – you’re a problem – and not just for me.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ I said, quickly. ‘We hardly know each other. I don’t even like him.’
God forgive me
. ‘He’s nothing to me.’
Oh God, God, please forgive me
.

Tipper laughed. ‘Damn it! Wish he could hear you. Fact is though, Miller, I couldn’t care less. Doesn’t matter. By the way,’ he stroked my cheek, ‘he loves you.’