Mesmeris Page 10
I realised my mouth was open, so shut it. We sat in thunderous silence. A vein pulsed in his neck, otherwise he could have been a statue, he was so still. The silence dragged on until, finally, his shoulders relaxed and I allowed myself to breathe again.
‘How about we pretend,’ he said, ‘just for today? I pretend I’m good and you pretend to believe me.’
One day. I could do that. ‘Okay.’
He smiled and I knew it was going to be easy. I was getting good at blocking things out.
We decided to act like tourists, so went to Sea Life aquarium and looked at the fish, the sea horses, the turtles. We held hands and behaved like a normal couple and I really think we both forgot, for a while, about Mesmeris. Afterwards, we had ice cream on the beach. The chill wind eased a little, allowing the sun’s warmth to break through. Jack handed me his suede, crepe-soled shoes and ran into the icy water, his jeans rolled up to his knees.
He gasped and hopped about as the achingly cold surf washed over his feet.
‘Come out, you idiot,’ I said. ‘You’ll freeze your toes off.’
‘It’s warm,’ he lied. ‘Come in, the water’s lovely.’ He yelped as a larger wave hit the back of his legs and then chased me across the pebbles because I laughed. I watched him, silhouetted against the glare of the sparkling sea, jumping about and laughing, and it made me sad because it was all pretence – the laughter, the light. His life was full of darkness.
‘What’s up?’ Jack said.
‘Nothing.’ I forced a smile.
‘Suppose I’d better take you home,’ Jack said. He dried his feet on his coat lining and put his shoes back on, then kissed me, his soft lips opening mine. The familiar tingle surged through my body. ‘Unless you want to stay another night.’
‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I have school and my parents and . . .’
‘Right.’ He hunched his shoulders. ‘Is that because of last night?’
‘No, of course not.’
He shrugged. ‘It was only because you looked so - breakable.’
‘I’m tougher than I look.’
He smiled. ‘Yeah? How tough?’
‘Tough enough,’ I said.
‘You reckon?’ He smiled, pulled me close. ‘Prove it.’ He kissed behind my ear. ‘Show me.’ He kissed the hollow of my neck, slid his hands inside my coat, inside my jumper. My skin seemed to burn where he touched me. ‘Means you have to stay another night.’
I nodded, couldn’t speak. School could wait another day. I’d worry about that later.
Hotel after hotel turned us down - again. As we moved further out of town, the houses grew smaller and scruffier and the streets emptier. A stray dog pulled at a black bag, spilled rotting food and rubbish onto the pavement. We stopped.
‘This is not looking good,’ Jack said. ‘Maybe we could try al fresco.’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘No way. It’s bloody freezing.’
He pulled me into his coat, rubbed himself against me. ‘I’ll warm you up.’
‘No chance. We’d get caught for sure.’
‘We wouldn’t. Don’t be so . . .’
‘What?’
‘Sensible,’ he said.
‘That wasn’t what you were going to say, was it?’
He laughed.
We passed a small passage between two buildings. He looked at it, looked at me. It was insane but I wanted him and we couldn’t wait so I followed him in there. He kissed me, pushed me against the wall, his hands inside my clothes. I closed my eyes. He didn’t fumble, knew exactly what to do – practised, experienced.
‘Jack!’ A woman’s voice.
He froze, looked a warning, smiled and turned. ‘Lill! Great timing, as ever.’
I pulled my clothes together with trembling hands, suddenly way too hot, my scalp prickling with sweat. I knew we’d get caught. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then I saw her, standing further along the alley - dark, spikey hair, hooded eyes. She looked stoned.
‘Don’t mind me.’ She licked her lips. ‘You carry on – I’ll watch. You know I love to see you in action.’
Behind her, two figures, men, hauled something away. The sunlight hit them as they left the alley and I saw the body of a man.
‘Jack.’ I clutched at his arm.
The guy looked unconscious or dead, the way his head hung back as they dragged him. The heels of his shoes clattered as they bounced over the cobbles.
I stared after them, told myself the guy had probably fainted, that they were helping him, because that’s what I wanted to think.
‘What’re you lot up to?’ Jack said.
Lill nodded towards the disappearing men. ‘Squealer,’ she said. ‘Having a bit of fun before we take him in.’
I tugged on Jack’s arm. He ignored me. One of the men came back and stood behind Lill. Skin like black marble, hair in dreads. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her shoulder.
Lill giggled. ‘I was saying, Nico. We could do with some entertainment.’
Nico grunted and kissed Lill’s neck. His laughing eyes watched Jack as if taunting him.
It seemed to work, because the muscles in Jack’s arm tensed and twitched.
Lill peered at me. ‘Who’s that? Is she yours?’
‘Yes,’ Jack said.
A moan came from the end of the alley. The sound cut through me like tiny splinters.
‘Should’a kept his mouth shut,’ Lill said, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. ‘Must go. Can’t let Dan have all the fun. See you tonight.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Papa’s,’ Lill said. ‘The party.’
‘No.’ Jack shook his head. ‘We’ve got to get back.’
‘It’s a sabbat.’ Nico sneered. ‘You have to come.’
‘They don’t know I’m here.’
Nico snorted. ‘They will - when I tell them.’
A yelp of pain echoed through the alley, shredded my nerves.
Lill clapped her hands, waved her hand and gave Jack a fake smile. ‘See ya later,’ she sang, in an American accent.
The man’s pitiful cry reminded me of Tipper’s moans when Jack had him in the yard. My head felt thick, my hearing dulled. I knew I was going to faint. I felt my way back to the street.
Jack gripped my elbow. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Wait - Wait.’ I bent over, held onto the wall until the waves of dizziness and nausea eased off.
I pulled my phone from my pocket.
Jack snatched it from my hand.
‘Give it back.’ I tried to get it.
He lifted it out of reach. ‘You can’t.’
‘Give it back,’ I said, ‘or I’ll scream.’
He stared for a moment, then handed it over. ‘Call the police if you like, but you won’t save him.’ He leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets and looked at the sky – blue eyes, beautiful blue eyes. ‘Then they’ll come after us – you and me.’
I pressed nine, hesitated. ‘What were they doing to him?’
‘He’s an informer - like we will be. You want some of that?’ He nodded towards the alley.
‘They’re torturing him, for God’s sake.’
He nodded.
‘Tell me you don’t get off on that.’ I pointed back towards the alley.
He stared.
‘Tell me.’ Say it. Please. Just say it, even if it’s a lie, because I’ll believe you – because I need to believe you.
But he didn’t. ‘It’s all I know - all I’ve ever known.’
The contents of my stomach rose up, bitter at the back of my throat. ‘You’re sick, you know that?’ I said. ‘All of you. Sicker than Tipper.’
It was like watching a shield come over his face. His mouth turned down, his eyes dulled. ‘You’d better go home, Pearl,’ he said. ‘I’d take you, but I have to be somewhere.’
‘Are you going to help that guy?’
He shook his head. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’
‘He can’t – but thanks.’ He gave me a bitter smile. ‘We had a good day though, didn’t we?’
‘Yes.’ My throat constricted.
‘Shame we didn’t get to . . .’
‘Don’t.’ I walked away, didn’t look back.
‘Thank you,’ he called after me, ‘for saying you loved me. I won’t forget it.’
My phone was still in my hand. My thumb hovered over the nine. Just two more tiny movements, that’s all it would take. I looked behind me, blinked away tears. An empty street. Something lurched inside me – loss, terrible, aching loss. The word ‘sabbat’ flashed into my head. I knew that word, had heard it before – Dad, talking about his thesis. A sabbat wasn’t a party – it was a religious ceremony, a black mass, and Andrew said they sacrificed failures.
I ran back, all thoughts of going home forgotten. The schools had just closed. Groups of children covered the pavements. Mothers with prams stopped to chat, blocked my path. Old biddies appeared from nowhere and tottered unsteadily in front of me. I saw dark hair only a yard or two ahead and tried to weave through the stupid, slow idiots in my way. I stepped into the road and ran down the gutter. How did he move so quickly? A car passed too close and brushed my coat. I jumped onto the pavement again and called his name. A couple of people turned to look but not him.
Then, in seconds, the path cleared. Kids disappeared into shops. Old biddies evaporated. Empty pavements stretched out in front of me. Clusters of school kids appeared now and then but no Jack. Something squeezed my airways. I took short, shallow breaths and tried not to panic. Panicking used more oxygen and my body needed all it could get.
I sat on the windowsill of a souvenir shop next to a stand of postcards and a basket of brightly coloured fishing nets. I put my hands on my knees and my head down. A little girl, all in pink, pigtails tied with fluorescent pink ribbon, pointed past me at a tub of buckets and spades. A woman, probably her grandmother gave me a disgusted look.
I stood up and stumbled onto the pavement. I longed to go home and get cleaned up, be respectable again but it would have to wait until I found Jack. That party could be anywhere. The only thing I could think of was to go back to that alleyway and see if Lill and Nico were still there. At least they’d know where it was. There was always a possibility they’d attack me but there weren’t any other options. The thought of seeing them again frightened me but not half as much as the thought of Jack going to that party.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Retracing my route turned out to be no easy thing. I’d been in such a rush, my eyes fixed straight ahead, that I hadn’t taken much notice of my surroundings. After an hour, I realised I was totally lost. It should have taken ten or fifteen minutes to get back but instead, nothing looked familiar. The houses were far too posh to be the right area. They had gardens and drives and trees lined the street. No dogs rummaging in bin bags here. If I’d taken note of a street name or pub or something - anything - but I hadn’t. The possibility that I might never see Jack again hit me. Walking on seemed pointless so I sat on a low, white painted garden wall in the shade of a huge copper beech that was just coming into leaf. Despite the chilly wind, I was sweltering. I took off my Parka and wished I smoked. It seemed the thing to do, but I didn’t smoke and didn’t have any fags.
A car drew up and turned into the drive opposite, its wheels crunching on the gravel. Trees hid most of the white-painted house but from where I sat, I had a good view of the black, shiny front door. It opened and a butler-type person came out – just like in a movie. He waited on the step, arms folded, while the driver got out and opened the back door. A woman in a long, pink gown and fur wrap got out and the butler came down the steps to greet her. As the woman climbed the steps, another limousine drove up. This one had some kind of official badge on the front. A chauffeur in a dark uniform and cap opened the doors and three men emerged. A hubbub of conversation took place and the woman laughed – high-pitched and shrill. I liked watching them. It was like watching TV. It switched my brain off, stopped me thinking. Cars continued to arrive - most of them black, shiny and expensive-looking. I got cold as the sweat dried on my skin, so put my Parka back on. A group of ten or so people arrived on foot, formally dressed, the women in floor length gowns, the men in dinner jackets and bow ties. They talked loudly in public school voices.
I must have been there quite some time because my bum went numb on the uncomfortable wall. Going home seemed the only sensible option, if I could find my way to the train station. As I stood up to go, a minibus turned up – old and battered, with psychedelic patterns in bright colours all over it. It looked completely wacky in the classy surroundings and the kids that got out of it looked and sounded equally out of place. They were young, about my age, and scruffy, like me – jeans, hoodies, track suits. Normal kids. I couldn’t think what they would be doing there with those other people, but two guys in dinner jackets herded them in through the front door.
A group of four people, three guys and a girl, also in eveningwear, walked towards the house. The girl wore a scarlet satin evening dress that swished and swayed as she walked. The guy nearest me was big – six foot five at least and broad, with long, straggly blond hair. He looked all wrong in the too tight, too smart jacket and trousers, as if he should have been in shorts and t-shirt, surfing on a beach somewhere. As the girl fell slightly behind, I saw her short, spiky black hair. I caught my breath. I knew that hair. It took me a moment to recognise Jack. He looked so different, all dressed up in his dinner suit, bow tie, clean-shaven, hair combed and neat. If he hadn’t had the Crombie over his arm, I wouldn’t have known it was him.
‘Jack.’ He didn’t turn round and I thought for a moment I’d made a mistake. But the others turned, Lill, Nico and the surfer guy.
‘Hey, Jacko,’ surfer guy said, ‘looks like you’ve forgotten something.’
‘Fuck off, Dan.’ Jack carried on walking away.
I half-crossed the road towards them but then stopped, uncertain.
Nico smiled. ‘Well, Jack,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you going to invite your friend in?’
‘No.’ Jack didn’t look at me. ‘Go home, Pearl.’
‘Charming.’ Nico smirked, raised his eyebrows.
Jack didn’t stop. ‘Let’s go. We’re late.’
‘Jack,’ I moved towards him.
He spun around, his jaw set. ‘Go – away!’
Lill’s mouth dropped open. ‘That’s not nice.’ She ran to me, put an arm around my shoulder, and rubbed my arm. ‘That’s very rude, Jack – very rude. Pearl wants to come to the party, don’t you, Pearl?’
‘She doesn’t.’ Jack strode back, stiff and furious. He pushed Lill away. ‘Don’t touch her.’ He gripped my arm and dragged me towards the house, so fast my feet could hardly keep up. He hissed in my ear, ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ I said.
‘I don’t have any choice.’
‘Then I’m coming with you.’
He made a noise, something between a laugh and a cry. ‘You idiot. You just don’t listen, do you?’
We’d reached the stone steps. He let go of my arm and looked at me for the first time. ‘Now we’re both in danger,’ he said.
‘Immensely brave, remember?’ I smiled a wobbly smile.
The man I thought was a butler came towards us. ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘Do come in, all of you.’
The door opened to a buzz of conversation and some kind of classical music – a dirge of violins. Lill, Nico and Dan pushed past us and disappeared. The hallway was full of people. Some stood in pairs on the stairs, chatting. A few cast curious eyes ove
r us and looked away.
A huge chandelier hung above us, heavy, its crystals moving and sparkling as the door opened and closed. Paintings covered the walls, old-fashioned portraits and landscapes in enormous, tacky gold frames. Some people said hello to Jack. Someone offered him drinks on a tray. He took two and handed one to me. It looked like watermelon juice, red and soupy. Jack drank his in one, so I took a large gulp. It wasn’t any kind of juice, though. It tasted of herbs, thick, strong and sweet. It burned my throat as it went down. Just one mouthful and fire spread through my limbs. Everyone had the same drink, everywhere I looked.
I whispered in Jack’s ear. ‘Maybe you should recruit me.’
‘What?’
‘I . . .’ I backed off, frightened by the furious glint in his eyes. ‘I thought, well . . . then we’d both be safe.’
‘Safe?’ He said it too loudly. A couple of people turned to look. He lowered his voice. ‘If I recruit you, you’ll belong to Papa, be his property. We all belong to Papa, understand?’
I nodded.
‘So, don’t ever think . . .’
‘Okay,’ I said.
We came to a long room, lined like the hallway, with paintings. These were different - darker. The one nearest us showed a huge, naked man, staring, mouth gaping with the headless, bloody body of a child in his hand. I shuddered and looked at the next. A goat sat like a man in a circle of crone-like women. They held out babies to the goat. behind him, a pole stuck up in the air at an angle and from the pole, hung the bodies of children.
‘You like Goya?’ Jack said.
‘No.’ No pretty pictures here, no refined landscapes or aristocratic portraits. Every single one showed some kind of horror - murder, rape, torture or dead and mutilated bodies hanging from trees – heads impaled on branches.
Dreary music came from the corner, where a string quartet played. A massive Indian rug covered the floor, thick and soft, beige, pink and brown. People stood about in groups, chatting and laughing. I recognised someone from television – an evening news presenter whose name escaped me.
A group of middle-aged men were talking to the woman I’d first seen arriving. She looked what the magazines would probably call ‘luminous’ - perfect make-up, perfect hair. She threw back her head and laughed. There was something nasty about it, about her mouth as it twisted, which made her ugly.