Mortal Ghost (5 page)

‘
No.’

She tried to pull away, kicked him, and swung her other arm for his head. She was strong, but he held on. The dog whined and ran round them, tangling his lead about their legs.

Jesse waited until her first fury had passed. ‘It’s got nothing to do with us.’

‘
Fuck that.’

‘
I’m not getting involved in someone else’s fight.’

‘
What’s the matter with you? You can’t just walk away. There are six or eight of them. They’re going to put him in hospital.’

‘
No, they’re more likely to kill him.’

‘
And that’s it? You don’t care?’

‘
It happens.’

‘
Not if I can help it,’ Sarah said.

‘
You can’t do anything.
We
can’t. Now let’s get out of here before they invite us to join their little party.’

He flinched at the contempt in her eyes but held his ground. Her eyes filled with tears.

‘
Have you got a mobile?’ he asked with a sigh.

‘
At home. Forgot to charge it.’

He shrugged. ‘Let’s go.’

‘
I’m going back there.’

‘
Then you’re on your own.’

He released her arm. They stared at each other in silence. Jesse could still hear music and laughter coming from around the corner, but his head was throbbing, and it took all his concentration to deal with Sarah. The sun was hot, and the smell of sweltering tarmac and exhaust was making him nauseous and a touch dizzy. Jesse remembered what Sarah’s mum had said to him—had offered him. It had sounded so tempting. A chance to rest. To read. To
sleep
. To figure out where to go, what to do. But it would never work. These people were fools. They seemed to think you could change the world. And what did they want with him anyway? The whole set-up stank worse than a backed-up public convenience. Maybe he was a new kind of school project: get to know the disadvantaged in the summer holidays. Stuff that. He didn’t need their philanthropy. Which amounted to what? A few meals, some old clothes they’d have sent to Oxfam before the month was out.

He didn’t owe them anything. If Sarah insisted on acting heroic, on getting hurt, he’d find his way back up the hill on his own, he supposed. Stupidly, he’d left his stuff at their house. But he could be there and gone in an hour. Or less.

His headache was making it difficult for him to think.

He hesitated, waiting to see what Sarah would do. When she didn’t move, he unwound the lead from their legs and handed it to her. She took it without a word. He could feel her eyes on his back as he bent to stroke the dog’s head. The creature was trembling.

They heard a high thin scream from around the corner, which was suddenly cut off. A burst of loud laughter.

With a wordless oath Sarah flung the lead at Jesse and ran.

‘
Sarah!’ he called after her.

Instead of stopping or looking back she began to run in earnest. Her thick plait swung along behind her, stray tendrils already making their escape. She ran the way an animal runs—fluid, graceful, all its essence distilled in movement. The lasso of her flight dropped over Jesse’s shoulders. Tethered, he scooped up Nubi’s lead and ran after her.

To his surprise, Jesse found that he couldn’t overtake her. She was fast. The sun was still high in the sky, and it beat down upon his head and shoulders. He squinted in the glare from the pavement. Sarah wavered and gradually dwindled before his eyes. He pushed himself harder, faster. Light flashed at him from the metal and glass of the cars, sometimes blinding him. He began to pant. Finally he eased to a walk, then stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Sarah was no longer in sight. He’d lost her. His breathing slowly returned to normal, though his head pounded. He licked his lips. He could use a cigarette; even better, a cold drink. He fumbled in his pocket. Nothing but a few coins. Again he licked his lips, swallowed. What would happen if he knocked at one of these classy doors and asked for a glass of water? He smiled to himself, imagining the response. Then again, maybe he’d actually get his drink. His clothes were clean and respectable. He had a dog on a very handsome leather lead.

Where
was
Sarah? The city grumbled and shifted around him. He thought of it as a great lumbering beast long inured to the specks of dirt and itching fleas clinging to its hide, probably not even aware of their existence. Jesse looked at the people walking by, seeing them for the first time. The streets weren’t overcrowded on this hot summer afternoon, but they weren’t empty either. It was unlike him not to have noticed, even more unlike him to outrun his common sense. The street had no tolerance for the weak. And now he had no idea where he was.

Tongue hanging, Nubi—damn it, now he
had
started using that name—waited for Jesse to decide what to do. If only his head would stop pounding . . .

Jesse stumbled over to the kerb, sat down between two parked cars, and folded his arms across his knees, pillowing his head and closing his eyes. Sweat was still running down his face and chest and armpits, soaking his T-shirt. He could feel Nubi’s breath on his neck, then the silly dog’s tongue. Only a minute or two, Jesse told himself. He didn’t care if anyone gawked, at this point didn’t even much care if a driver backed into him. Sarah had duped him. There must be a lesson in this somewhere—a lesson he thought he’d learned years ago. For the first time since Liam he’d let someone invite him home, and he’d been hungry enough—
naive
enough—to go. What had she expected? A noble savage? Gratitude? Now she had run off and left him stranded without his gear, without money, without even a piece of loo paper to wipe his arse. He ought to be angry or disgruntled or something. All he felt was tired.

‘
Hey mate, y’OK?’

The speaker was dangling his car keys in his hand. Jesse must have drifted off for a moment, because he hadn’t noticed the man’s approach. Jesse shaded his eyes, nodded, and cleared his throat. He rose and dusted off his jeans—no, Sarah’s jumble, he reminded himself—then regarded the man coolly.

‘
Fine. Just worn out from our jog.’ He indicated Nubi with his head.

‘
Yeah, too hot for a run.’ The man looked him up and down. ‘Need a lift somewhere?’

Warning bells jangled in Jesse’s head.

‘
Thanks, but we’re OK.’

‘
Are you sure? You look like you could use a cold beer, maybe a fag.’

‘
I said we’re fine.’

‘
Look, no offence. Just trying to help.’ But he took a step closer.

Nubi growled.

The man retreated behind the protection of his car, throwing back over his shoulder, ‘Call off your dog, for god’s sake. It was a friendly offer. I don’t want any trouble.’ He jumped into his car and started the engine. Gears clashed as he pulled out of the parking space and drove away.

Jesse scratched Nubi behind his ear.

‘
You might just earn your keep,’ he said. ‘Any suggestions what we should do now?’

A cigarette was OK, but Jesse didn’t touch anything, not
anything
else.

‘
Does your dog bite?’ a voice behind Jesse asked.

Jesse spun round, then grinned. A girl of about four or five was watching him from her doorstep, with what looked like a dead badger—but probably wasn’t—clutched limply in her hand. Behind her the bright blue door stood half open to reveal a black-and-white checked floor and pale yellow wallpaper.

‘
Only if you bite first,’ he said.

Her eyes opened wide, in the solemn unblinking manner of a small child.

‘
Penny,’ called a sharp voice from inside the entrance hall. ‘What do you think you’re doing? How many times have I got to tell you not to open the front door?’

A young woman appeared on the threshold. Her cheeks coloured when she saw Jesse.

‘
Oh sorry,’ she said in a milder tone. ‘I didn’t know anyone was there.’ Then she remembered caution. ‘Penny, you know you’re not supposed to talk to strangers.’ But she smiled at Jesse over her daughter’s head.

‘
It’s OK. You’re right to teach her to be careful,’ Jesse said.

‘
The dog was growling,’ Penny told her mother.

‘
At you?’ her mum asked, glancing anxiously at Nubi.

‘
No, nothing like that,’ Jesse reassured her. ‘Someone tried to—’ He looked down at Penny. ‘Someone tried to hurt him.’

‘
Some people.’ Penny’s mother grimaced. She turned to go, taking her daughter by the hand. ‘Well, bye now.’

‘
You wouldn’t happen to have some water for my dog, would you?’ Jesse asked on impulse. ‘We’ve been running, and he’s very hot.’

‘
Of course,” she said. ‘I’ll be right back.’ But she closed the door while she fetched a bowl.

‘
I’ve brought you a coke,’ she said when she returned without her daughter. ‘Your face is bright red. You look as if you need it.’

Jesse stammered his thanks, surprised by the kindness. First Sarah and her mum, now this woman. Maybe, just maybe, Sarah only needed to run off her temper.

‘
Do you know Hedgerider Park?’ he asked, holding the ice-cold can to his forehead.

‘
It’s about ten, fifteen minutes from here.’

She gave him directions, while he popped the ring-pull and finished the coke in a few gulps. He couldn’t believe how good it tasted.

Sarah was standing at the bay window of an art gallery opposite the park, examining some turbulent cityscapes on display. She looked up with a casual flick of her plait, but Jesse could tell that she’d been watching for him.

‘
How was I supposed to know you’d come here?’ he asked.

She dropped her gaze and muttered, ‘Sorry.’ After a short pause she raised her head again and smiled, a little abashed. ‘I’m not just saying that. I shouldn’t have run off and left you. No matter what the reason. It’s my wretched temper. Finn’s always warning me about it.’

Jesse wasn’t accustomed to people who apologised and meant it (or who apologised at all). He wondered if she expected some sort of apology in return. She wouldn’t get one, not when he had nothing to be sorry for. He’d stopped telling people what they wanted to hear a long time ago. But he couldn’t help returning the smile before mopping his face with his forearm, then his T-shirt, briefly revealing ribs and belly-button, a hint of golden down.

‘
About that boy—’ he began.

Lifting her eyes, Sarah said with a return to her old tone, ‘You were dead wrong, you know.’

‘
And you probably stick your nose in whenever some geeky little kid’s being bullied at school!’

‘
What else? Bullying’s foul.’

Jesse suppressed a sigh. ‘Can we get some water to drink?’

She nodded and reached out to touch his arm, but he swayed back out of reach. Sarah bit her lip.

‘
There’s a good café nearby,’ she said. ‘I go there sometimes with a friend. Her parents own this gallery.’

Jesse’s face reddened. ‘I haven’t got any money.’

‘
I’ll pay.’

‘
I don’t want your charity!’

She turned on her heels, and without waiting to see if he followed, swiftly walked away. Her head was held high, the line of her back a reprimand.

‘
Here. You’ve been dying for a cigarette, haven’t you?’ Sarah asked, laying a packet and some matches in front of Jesse.

‘
Thanks but no thanks,’ he said. ‘Don’t buy me stuff.’

‘
Let’s get one thing straight,’ Sarah said, taking her seat again. ‘I don’t feel sorry for you. And I don’t want or need your gratitude. Nor do I have to buy my friendships.’

The café was air-conditioned, and its wooden furniture and terracotta floor and colour scheme, all browns and blacks and creams, told Jesse it had been decorated by someone who read the right magazines. Even the names on the menu had been decorated:
espresso macchiato, iced caffè latte, chai crème.
Sarah had chosen a milkshake with a frothy description, but
Jesse, a small plain coke.

He pushed the cigarettes across the table to Sarah.

‘
If you’re trying to prove a point, it’s wasted on me,’ she said. ‘I’m not impressed by grand gestures, and anyway, they’re just some fags. Mates help each other out when they’re skint.’

‘
I’m not your mate.’

‘
Right. Then don’t smoke them for all I care. One of my
mates
will be pleased to have them.’