Mesmeris Page 6

  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.’

  ‘He doesn’t.’ I pulled away from him.

  ‘Oh yes, he does, because this morning, no matter what I did, he wouldn’t cry, would he, lads?’

  His ‘lads’ murmured agreement.

  ‘No, he wouldn’t cry and he wouldn’t scream and no matter what I did, I couldn’t hurt him - not enough. But when we mentioned you. . .’

  ‘The way he tried to get to his feet!’ Jenkins staggered about drunkenly, bent double, one arm reaching out for support. ‘Priceless.’

  Dim laughed.

  ‘He loves you,’ Tipper smiled. ‘So we’re going to leave him - a little present.’

  ‘Go to hell,’ I said, my mouth dry.

  I backed away into the wall and felt around for a piece of brick, a loose stone, anything that could be used as a weapon. Nothing but a lump of crumbly plaster. Then I spotted a shard of broken glass, sticking out from underneath the skip on my right.

  Collins came up behind him. ‘Hey, Tip, what you doin’, man?’

  I edged towards the skip, keeping my eyes on Tipper.

  Tipper rolled his eyes. ‘What’s up, Collie - wanna be first?’

  Collins shook his head. ‘Nah, don’t like this. This ain’t what we said.’

  Tipper spun around, grabbed Collins’s face in his hands and squeezed it, made Collins’s mouth pucker. ‘Then FUCK - OFF!’

  The other two laughed. I dived for the piece of glass. It was a large part of a broken bottle, bigger than I expected, pale green, thick and jagged.

  Tipper still had his back to me. If I hadn’t thought about it, I could have gone forward and slit his throat. But I did think about it and then it was too late. Dim’s gaze was back on me. His eyes widened when he saw the glass in my hand. ‘Tip,’ he said.

  Collins walked away - just walked away and left me there.

  ‘Help me,’ I shouted at his back.

  He didn’t turn around, walked straight out of the yard.

  ‘Please,’ I said.

  He didn’t come back.

  I wedged myself into the corner between the wall and the skip, held the glass out in front of me. A grin spread over Tipper’s face.

  ‘Fuck!’ he said. ‘You really are something, Miller.’ He shook his head. ‘A danger to yourself and those around you – you know that, don’t you?’ He walked towards me, slowly. ‘No wonder you’re pissing people off. Now, give the glass to me,’ he said, ‘there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Don’t touch me.’ I jabbed it towards him, hoped he wouldn’t notice my hand shaking.

  Tipper turned to the other two and laughed. His phone rang. He looked at it and said, ‘Excuse me a moment,’ to me, as if we were in a business meeting. He turned away and spoke quietly into it.

  I heard, ‘He’ll live,’ but the rest was inaudible. Perhaps Tipper would have to go somewhere, have to let me go. Maybe it was all going to be all right, after all. I must have relaxed, blinked, taken my eyes off him because something hit my arm and the glass went spinning from my hand. It ricocheted off the skip, away into the rubbish, brushing Dim’s leg as it passed.

  Tipper’s face, his triumphant grin as he closed his phone, the excitement in his eyes, made me feel faint. The three of them came towards me. ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, hang on a minute - listen – listen.’ I held a hand up, as if that would stop them. ‘Stop – stop a minute, just a minute.’ They didn’t stop, all had the same look in their eyes - the same excitement, the same glee. ‘Don’t – look, don’t. Please – please.’ My voice grew louder and higher-pitched, until it was just a shriek.

  Tipper put his hand on the back of my head and grabbed a handful of my hair. I cried out, felt it tearing at the roots. I punched at his chest, then tried to stick my fingers in his eyes, felt the soft, warm wetness.

  ‘Shit!’ Tipper’s eyes streamed with water. He let go of my hair to wipe his face on his sleeve but before I could get him again, Jenkins and Dim grabbed my arms and pushed them back against the wall. Tipper blinked furiously, his left eye red, the lashes stuck together. ‘Gonna teach you a fuckin’ lesson now, you bitch.’

  He pushed up against me. I tried to kick him, knee him, anything. I couldn’t move. His breath stank of fags and alcohol. My stomach heaved. He held my chin in his hand, lifted my face to his.

  ‘Get me that glass.’ He waved his hand.

  As soon as Dim released my arm, I went for Tipper’s eyes again.

  This time, he was ready, caught my wrist. ‘Too slow, Miller.’

  Tipper took the glass from Dim and stood back, examined it, felt the edge with the tip of his finger. ‘I’m tempted to use this, Miller.’ He stroked my cheek with the cold glass, traced my jawline.

  I held my breath.

  ‘One way to upset lover boy. Doubt he’d want to look at you again. Maybe he’d cry.’ He turned his mouth down. ‘I think he’d cry, don’t you?’

  Jenkins giggled.

  Tipper bit his lip. ‘I’m very, very tempted,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think I will.’

  I sobbed but saw no pity in those pale blue eyes, no compassion - nothing.

  ‘Do you know why, Miller?’

  I couldn’t shake my head because the glass was pressed hard against my skin. One movement and it would slice through the flesh.

  ‘Because,’ a sick smile, ‘I don’t like to get blood on my clothes.’ He flung the glass against the wall. It smashed into pieces.

  He’s going to kill me, I thought, here, in this horrible place, w
ith the smell, the dirt, the rats. I jerked my head round, tried to bite his hand.

  He smacked me across the face. The taste of metal poured into my mouth. Then he kissed me. Disgusting. I bit him, caught his lip.

  ‘Fuck! Fuck!’ He pulled away sharply, his hand to his mouth and looked me in the eye. Pure hatred.

  I screamed. His mouth silenced me. He was all over me, his hands all over me, his mouth on mine. I kept my mouth shut tight, my teeth clamped together as he tried to push his tongue inside. I should have let him and bitten it off, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear the taste of him. It made me sick. I could hardly breathe, couldn’t move. Jenkins giggled in my ear. I stopped struggling, closed my eyes, shut myself off from it. This isn’t me. It’s just my body. I’m safe inside, where they can’t reach me, where nobody can reach me.

  Tipper forced his knee between my legs.

  ‘Cops!’ Someone shouted. ‘Cops.’ I opened my eyes. Collins stood at the entrance, waving his arms frantically.

  ‘Shit!’ Dim and Jenkins let go of me and ran for the alleyway and I think I’d have passed out with relief but Tipper didn’t move. His body still trapped mine against the wall, held it upright. My arms were free from the elbows down so I pummelled his back where I hoped his kidneys might be. His jacket was padded though and it was impossible to get any strength behind the punches. I doubt he even felt them.

  He watched the others run out into the lane and disappear, eyes narrowed. ‘He’s lying,’ he said and somehow, I knew he was right, and despair washed over me. This was it, the end. Who’d have thought it would be so sordid, so grubby, so trashy?

  ‘Wouldn’t think he’d have the balls.’ Tipper shook his head and laughed. ‘Oh, Collie, you stupid fucker.’ Then he smiled at me. ‘So, it’s just the two of us. Kind of romantic, don’t you think?’

  Something moved behind him, hurtled towards us - pale shirt, dark hair, and then Tipper was gone.

  I slumped to the floor, closed my eyes, and leaned against the skip.

  ‘You okay?’

  I pulled my clothes together, curled up like a child and cried.

  ‘Bastards.’ He stroked the hair back from my face, so gently. ‘You poor kid.’ It was Jack’s voice, definitely his voice. I opened my eyes. He was crouched in front of me. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’m here now.’