Someday Find Me (14 page)

I got bored of kicking my heels after about a day or so but I had no money cos it was Saf’s half of the month to be keeper of the purse; she got paid in the middle and I got paid at the start and so we took it in turns to play Mum. So that left me a bit scuppered but I still had a tiny bit of cash lurking about, what with there not being any outgoings on food pretty much ever in our flat, and even though I knew I ought to be saving that for the next two weeks until payday started shining on the horizon like a beautiful beacon of hope, I thought what the hell? And I moseyed on down to Lucky Chips.

People walking past in the other direction had on their Find Fate badges and they all looked like they were part of a secret club. The badges got posted through your letterbox and everyone was meant to wear one but nobody had ever put one through ours so we weren’t in the club. I waited at the crossing with a little old lady wheeling one of those little tartan trolleys, and when the green man started beeping to say off you go, I walked a bit slower than normal so she’d feel fast. It was kicking-out time for the schools and so there were sweatshirts and blazers all blobbing up and down the streets in this part of town, all queuing up to buy sweets and fags from the shops where they were only allowed to go in two at a time.

I nipped down one of the little alleys and wormed my way through the secret-maze route to Lucky Chips. There was the
odd kid huffing deodorant here and there but mostly it was quiet, which was better. Even though I’d been lonely knocking about in the flat all on my tod, I didn’t feel like squeezing past schoolkids all giggling and having fun and being young. So I just walked down the dark alleys and pretended in my head a little bit that I was a spy, having a peek around corners before turning them and occasionally swinging round to check I wasn’t being followed, that kind of thing. And before long I was coming out of the alley next to the cash-and-carry and crossing the road to the big dirty yellow doors of Lucky Chips.

Inside it was pretty empty, which I guess is what you’d expect at just before four on a weekday. A bloke with a mullet was playing roulette and the clack-clack-clack of the wheel filled up the chip-fatty air. One of the karaoke booths up on the balcony had been stuck on ‘Maggie May’ since I’d been coming here, but in the evenings you couldn’t hear it so much over the other ones and the fryers and the people talking and the fruities jingling. I could hear it pretty good then, but it didn’t bother me too much as I was secretly quite partial to a bit of Rod. I fiddled with a pound coin and looked about at the tables.

All of the croupiers were sat round one of the tables right at the back, eating noodles and texting on their phones. Apart from the roulette there was just one table going, blackjack with Mao, my favourite dealer, who was short and a little bit fat and very very smiley, which is a quality I like a lot in people. There was one other person sitting there, a bloke in a suit with a sweaty head and dark eyebrows, which looked a bit like someone had drawn them across his face with a big fat marker pen, and a pint and a whisky next to his elbow both in steamed-up plastic cups. I went and sat at the spot two down from him and put in a couple of chips that had been floating in my pocket and a pound down to be turned into a couple more. Mao gave me a wink and a big smile. He never said much but he always let you know he
was happy to be there. The guy in the suit smelt a whole lot like whisky and his briefcase had fallen on the floor and opened a bit so some papers were just slipping out onto the swirly-whirly carpet but he didn’t seem too bothered.

I played a few hands and lost all of them, and the butterflies weren’t even starting to stir or wave at me, like they were all asleep or gone down the pub. So I was quite glad when I felt a little tap on the shoulder, and when I turned round Win was standing there. ‘’Ello,’ I said. ‘You ever get a day off?’

She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. She had a gap between her front teeth and I guessed she didn’t like it. Hannah used to be like that when she was little and her front teeth were bigger than the rest but I s’pose those days she probably would’ve been glad if it was only her teeth she had to think about. ‘I just finished,’ she said, and she did have her bag over her arm when I looked down.

‘Cool,’ I said, ‘I’ll walk out with you.’ It didn’t seem like anywhere I was I’d feel happy so I figured maybe I’d be better off to keep walking.

‘Okay,’ she said, and she grinned and forgot about the gap between her teeth properly for a second. I gave Mao a wave and he gave me a smile full of dimples, and off we went.

Outside it was starting to cool down as the sun went to bed, and Win shivered. ‘It’s getting cold,’ she said, and I nodded.

‘You not got a coat?’

She shook her head. ‘I need to get a new one really, before winter and that. I’m always spending my money on Max’s clothes, see.’

I only had on a thin zip-up jacket thing but I whacked it off. ‘Here y’are,’ I said. ‘Stick this on. I’ll come round the casino some time and pick it up.’

She looked like she wanted to say no, but it was getting pretty nippy out so in the end she pulled it on and zipped it up and pulled the sleeves down over her hands.

‘Max never see his dad?’ I asked, cos it didn’t seem right, her working all the time and still not having enough cash to even get herself a coat.

‘Nah.’ She bundled a bit deeper into the jacket. ‘He’s never met him.’

‘Shame,’ I said. ‘He must be a bit of a knob jockey.’

She laughed into the neck of my jacket, which she’d pulled up over her chin. ‘Yeah,’ she said, a bit muffled. ‘He is.’

We were walking down the main road by then, park on one side and houses on the other, cars driving past with their half-lights on because it was that weird dark but not dark time of the day. ‘How’s your week been?’ she asked, and I had to lean in a bit to catch it, what with the zip and the jacket between her mouth and the outside.

‘Pretty shit,’ I said, and she looked at me all wide-eyed and I didn’t know what to say, so I fumbled a bit and then I said, ‘My girlfriend moved out.’ Which was true and not even close to being true and made me feel a bit sick because I’d properly remembered again that she was gone.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Hope you’re all right.’

I felt the backs of my eyes get a bit hot like I might cry so I just had a little cough to get my voice straight and I said, ‘Yeah, I’m all right. It’s for the best.’ And then I said really quickly, ‘I’ve, er, got to nip this way, actually, Win, gotta drop something off at a mate’s. Catch you around, yeah?’ and I jogged through the park and I kept jogging until my eyes felt back to normal and I could breathe again.

I’m not gonna lie, I was in a bad way the next day. I had the hangover sweats, the ones where you go hot and cold all of a sudden and your face turns all grey and your head goes light as a feather and aches like anything. After I’d got back from Lucky Chips I’d counted up all the change we had on the little change plate we kept next to the microwave, and in the end I’d had just enough to get a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. I couldn’t believe they still sold it when I got to the shop, like the taste of childhood, all magical. Except not magical at all because it tasted minging and it got me really miserable pissed. And I was there the next day with all the booze sweating itself out through my face and down my back and my legs felt all floppy and wobbly and I kept having a little groan and feeling sorry for myself and in the end I decided in my wise old head the best thing to do was apparently to tidy the house. Even while I was doing it I was thinking, This is a bloody stupid idea, where’s my duvet and the remote? But still I kept on putting books back on the shelf and cups in the sink and still feeling sorry for myself. All I could think of was Saffy’s confused little face looking up at me as I told her she had to go and that mixed with the 20/20 taste in my mouth, well, that was a sick-making combo let me tell you. And so I was doing what my mum did in these situations and sweeping away and rolling out the thoughts I didn’t like, except we didn’t have a broom and I couldn’t make pastry so I had to settle for bleaching
the bog and packing up Saf’s things for her instead. I got all her bits out the wardrobe and put them in her big suitcase, which I’d nearly knocked my head off getting down off the top of the wardrobe, and then I got all her fluffy socks and little lacy pants out of the drawer and I didn’t have to fold them so I bundled them up and put them in a corner of the case, and then I got all of her makeup bits and bracelets and earrings off the side and put them in a carrier bag and tucked that into a different corner and then I laid the bit of mirror that was propped up against the wall on top of it all and then I did up the suitcase.

Then I thought I might change the sheets on my bed so I stripped them off and yanked the pillowcases off and then stuck all that in the washing-machine but didn’t turn it on because I wanted to watch the racing at four and the washing-machine sounded like it was gonna take off once it got going. I got the clean set out of the top of the wardrobe and stuck the sheet on first, that’s the easy bit obviously, then stuck the pillows on because they’re all right as well, long as you push them right in there otherwise you end up with that empty bit at the end and the case all twisted and that’s a right bastard in the middle of the night when your head works its way off the plump bit. Then I decided to tackle the duvet. Saffy used to do this thing where she turned the cover inside out, picked up the corners of both and sort of flicked the cover over the duvet, but I couldn’t get that to work so I sat on the floor and just tried pushing the corners right into the ends of the duvet, then tried to straighten it out inside without being able to see. Sat there shoulders deep in duvet, a load of stuff under the bed caught my eye. Once the duvet was buttoned up and not too twisted – although I had noticed a couple of tiny mouldy spots so I had to swivel it round a couple of times so they were at the bottom – I chucked it on the bed and started pulling the stuff out from under there.

Well, I must have sat there for an hour I reckon, going through it all with all this dust I’d set loose spinning around happily and
a Bugged In Erol Alkan supervising. There was a load of crap under there but it was fun going through it, old magazines with the crosswords filled in all wrong on purpose, which she always kept if she’d managed to fill a whole one with different words or by putting the words back to front or by filling it in in froggy French
mais oui
or in the bit of Spanish she knew; I didn’t know any. A daisy-chain that was all wilted and had hardly any petals left, just stalks and the little yellow bits, and it could have been from anything, she was always making them and wearing them round her head, but I knew she’d have known exactly when it was from because she remembered everything, Saffy, like that the cork on the dressing-table was from the night we drank red wine and I told her I loved her, or that the cinema ticket stub she found in her purse once was from the night we went to the cinema when we were worried she might be pregnant but it turned out she wasn’t. And then I started thinking that maybe she’d have forgotten when this daisy chain was from or when all of it was from, which made me even sadder, as if she’d forgotten a bit of herself. A big photo of her and her sisters because she did love them even though they pissed her off, especially Anjelica, always going on about uni and how great it was, how she was going to be a doctor or prime minister or head of the world or whatever. None of them ever thought Saffy was going anywhere with art but I’d always known she would and even then, with her gone and it all disappearing, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that she wouldn’t.

One of the boxes had a big pile of old sketches and there was all of her sisters in there, Jelli again, a cool kind of anime Jelli, and a pretty little crayony type thing of Lulu and a pencilly sketch of Ella, who was really brilliant-looking, seriously fit, and then near the bottom a really bright painting of me and you could still see the pencil lines under the paint and she must have been going to frame it because the paint didn’t go all the way to the edges, just faded out to white and she’d signed it in the
corner with a little Saffy squiggle and a little heart. Next to me, well, curled up on my shoulder to be accurate, was a brill bright green iguana. With the spikes all down its back and the googly swivelly eyes and the tail curled back up under my arm and a bright red forked tongue hanging out in a matey way. He had a collar on and that had more spikes on it, and on the yellow gold name bit it said in black letters, if you looked close enough, Lavelle, which was what I was gonna call him. I thought about all those times I’d made her go to the Lizard Lounge or Snake in the Glass – she never complained, just stood there merrily looking like an alien angel in the green light and nodded and laughed at their funny tails and the slow way they moved, and at this one shop there was a little chameleon and he was in love with Saf and if she stood in front of his tank and wiggled her fingers on the glass he’d stand on the edge of his branch and rub his little feet up against the glass trying to get to her, and from the outside it looked like he was raving, waving his weird forked hands around to the beat and when she took her fingers away he’d sink back down to his branch looking sad, so she’d put them there again and wiggle at him and back up he’d go again raving away, and even I was bobbing away to Erol thinking about it, and I’d always thought next time I had a bit of a win on the horses I’d buy her that raving chameleon. The thought of him all alone in his little cage waiting made me sit on the floor staring at the wall for a very long time.

I got in from work that evening with a crate of Stella under my arm and I’d even stayed late helping Jenny in the kitchen, I was that keen to steer clear of the flat, and then I’d walked home instead of getting the Tube and still there was forever for me to be sitting around thinking in the silence. But when I got my key in the door I saw Quin’s shiny shoes, and I could hear ‘And I Am Telling You’ warbling out of the stereo and my heart went yaaay! and I strolled in with a spring in my step. I must have been grinning as I put the crate down on the kitchen table and turned round because as I was saying, ‘’Ello, mate,’ he’d stood up and hugged me and I’m not usually into bloke hugs but I hugged him back and I was still hugging him when he let go.

I went and stuck my hoody on the back of the chair and got the last two cans out of the fridge and started sticking the ones out of the crate in there as I said, ‘D’ya have a good time, mate?’ and put one of the cold ones in his hand and opened mine. He was sat there in his silky dressing-gown thing and flannelly pyjamas and these slippers with curly toes, and he took a sip out of his beer with his pinkie stuck up in the air while I had a swig on mine and sat myself down.

‘It was amazing, thanks,’ he goes, and had another sip. ‘And how are you?’

‘I’m all right.’ I had another swig and waited for him to ask about Saf, which obviously he did.

‘I, er, noticed Saf’s stuff’s gone,’ he said eventually, and I think we were both glad it was out in the open.

‘Yeah,’ I said, and the words felt all heavy in my throat. ‘I called her mum, Quin. I didn’t know what else to do. She was completely out of it.’ My voice started to sort of wobble and crack and my eyes were getting hot at the backs again.

He nodded and looked all wise like an owl. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I think you did the right thing.’ Which didn’t really make me feel better but I appreciated the gesture.

We sat in nice silence sipping and swigging for a while, and after a bit I said, ‘So what’d you get up to in the country then? All clay pigeons and that, was it?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he goes. ‘All wellies and puppies and gin and tonics. I could’ve wept seeing the city looming up ahead when we were driving home.’

‘I bet, mate,’ I said, getting up. ‘Another?’

‘Yes, why not?’ he said, so I grabbed two not-so-cold-yet beers out the fridge and handed him one in his other hand, cos he still had half the first one left, and flopped back in my chair.

‘Here,’ he goes, ‘they still haven’t found Fate Jones, have they?’

‘Nah,’ I said, pointing at the paper that was on the floor next to his chair. ‘Boyfriend’s still a suspect. Well dodgy background apparently.’

He tutted and had a drink of his beer. ‘Terrible, isn’t it? Poor girl. Her poor family.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, and had a swig myself.

‘Do you remember that one a few years back – Polly, was it?’

‘Molly,’ I said, after I’d swallowed my beer.

‘Oh, yes,’ he goes. ‘You’re right. Awful that was. Just awful.’

‘Yeah.’

The big-stack stereo started whirring as it went on to its next CD, which was Dusty Springfield as it goes. You could tell Quinton was back.

‘Just awful,’ he said again. ‘They’ll find this one any day now.’

‘You reckon?’ I was draining the last bit of my can by then.

‘Oh, yeah,’ he goes. ‘They’ve got all those search parties out, haven’t they?’

‘Yeah, they’ve got all the contestants off
Top Idol
out there helping now. And the judges.’

‘Well, that’s jolly good of them,’ he goes. ‘God, imagine if one of them found her! Alive, I mean. Be a bit morbid if it was the other.’

I sort of went mmm and fiddled with the ring-pull on my can because I didn’t really feel like thinking about bad news any more.

‘So what happened on
Top Idol
this week anyway?’ he said.

‘Not much, same old. Actually, tell a lie,’ I said. ‘They lowered in that young one, what’s her name, Lacey, isn’t it? Yeah, they lowered her down on one of those swing things, you know like in the circus, only she fell off it.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah yeah, but it was all right she had a safety thing on, she just hung there by her foot, only her hair caught fire a bit off the flame-thrower bloke they had on, but other than that she was fine, kept singing and that.’

‘Oh, she’s a proper little pop star that one,’ he goes. ‘What a little trouper.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, getting up to get two more beers. ‘Yeah, she’s all right. It was the older bloke that went this week.’

‘The one with the peg leg?’

‘Yeah, that’s the fella.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ he said. ‘I liked him.’

We thought about that for a bit and listened to Dusty and drank a bit more beer. And I remembered how much I’d been dreading being alone in the flat and now I wasn’t and so I thought I’d better make the most of it and I scrolled through my brain for something good to say.

‘And how’s things with, erm, Igor?’ I said eventually. That was the latest bloke Quin was loved up with, massive he was and always wearing big furry coats and big rings on his fingers like a Russian bear-hunter bloke.

He made this happy gushy face and said, ‘Oh, he’s so lovely, not much of a conversationalist but he does the sweetest things.’ He didn’t go into any details of what the sweet things actually were, and to be honest I couldn’t imagine Igor doing anything nice except for maybe skinning you a rabbit, but then I’d only met him a couple of times so I didn’t like to judge. He talked about him a bit more, and I started to sort of wish I hadn’t asked cos I’m no good with giving advice or whatever, so I just listened and hoped he wouldn’t ask me what I thought about any of it. I was starting to feel a bit pissed because I’d not had any dinner or any lunch apart from the odd handful of pistachios because everything was making me feel sick. Quinton had rosy cheeks and a bit of a slur too cos he was always a bit of a lightweight; it was one of his charms.

‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘do you fancy something a bit harder?’

‘Yeah, all right,’ I said, a bit wary I won’t deny, and he went out to his bag and came back with this fancy black bottle of gin. He got out two glasses and we started doing inches of that each and it was all right actually, tasted like cucumber, and whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing I couldn’t say but it was interesting for sure. ‘You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me’ had come on in the background and we sat there looking at each other misty-eyed.

‘So,’ he goes after a bit, leaning forward, ‘is she coming back?’

Well, I knew who he was talking about obviously and it wasn’t Fate Jones. ‘I dunno, Quin,’ I said, knocking back my gin and holding the glass out for more.

‘Don’t give up on her,’ he said, looking me in the eyes as he poured a big measure for me. I opened my mouth to say something
but he hushed me with his hand. ‘She’ll come back. And when she does, she’ll need us.’

We sat there in silence after that, both with our glasses tipping to the side, feeling sleepy and full of thinking, and Dusty warbled on in the background, and when the song finished Quinton got up and turned the music off and squeezed my foot that was hanging over the arm of the chair. ‘Night, hun,’ he said, and wandered over to set his sleeping bag up.

‘Night,’ I said, and I got up and wandered in to sleep on my clean sheets.