Numbers

“You know what I want. You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you. Something a friend of mine wants back.” The money. “We can talk about it, nice and civilized-like. No need to make a scene of ourselves.” He was walking toward us now, slowly. I could hear the blood thudding in my ears as he kept on coming. Then, to his right, someone opened a door. A middle-aged bloke, holding a big dog by its collar.

“What’s going on? “ he shouted out.

Tattoo Face stopped and turned toward him, held up both his hands. “Nothing. Bit of a domestic, that’s all. My son here’s in a spot of trouble. I just need to help him sort it out. You know what it’s like, don’t you? Kids!”

The guy looked at him, trying to suss him out. “Do I need to call the police?”

Tattoo Face smiled. “No, mate. It’s nothing like that. We’ll sort it out.”

While they were talking, Spider leaned down and whispered, “Back away.” And so, slowly, we edged down the street. Then, as they seemed to be ending their conversation, we turned and started to run again, fast, really fast, legs pumping away like mad.

“Oi!” He was after us again, but we’d got a good start now. We booked down the street. Spider was ripping off his jacket.

“What you doing?”

“Here.” He flung it across the top of the spiked railings to our left, then cupped his hands for me to put my foot into, and almost flung me over. I landed awkwardly, twisting my knee. Spider pulled himself up the other side, crouched on the top, and then jumped down. He grabbed his jacket off the top and helped me up.

“OK?”

I nodded, not wanting to admit how much it hurt.

“Come on, then,” he said, and set off, scrambling down the embankment.

I tried to follow at a run, but it was agony. I dropped down on all fours and sort of scuttled along, taking some of the weight on my hands. Spider looked back.

“What the hell are you doing?” He was down at the bottom of the slope now, by the side of the track.

“I’ve hurt myself. My knee,” I said, wincing as I tried to stand up on it.

“Why didn’t you say?” He started back up toward me, but I heard a thump behind. Tattoo Face was over the fence.

Panicking now, I scrambled toward Spider. He lunged forward at the same time as I was literally lifted into the air, scooped up by a big muscled arm wrapped ’round my waist. There was something cold and hard against my throat. That bastard had pulled a knife.

Spider tumbled forward, then froze, like a sprinter waiting for the gun. “No, no, man. There’s no need for that. Put the knife away. Come on, we can talk. We can talk about this.”

“We don’t need to talk anymore. You need to give me the money, and I’ll let your little friend go.”

Spider got to his feet. Tattoo Face tightened his grip on me. I could hardly breathe. To be honest, I’d been so surprised when he’d grabbed me that I’d just hung there like a doll; now I struggled in his arms, until he dug the blade farther into my neck. “Don’t come any nearer.”

“No, no, it’s cool.” Spider backed away. He was down on the tracks again.

“Spider, just give him the money.” My voice didn’t sound like mine.

He looked at me for a second, his face a picture of agony.

“I can’t, Jem. This is our future. You and me. This is a hotel room and a big double bed. It’s a pint or two in the pub, and fish and chips on the pier. How can we have that, how can we have all that, without any money?”

I had a big lump in my throat. He’d got this all in his head, what he wanted for us. Christ, it wasn’t much, was it? But we’d never have it. We’d never have even that. I started to cry. They were hot tears of frustration and longing, tears of hatred for the ticking clock.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant for you to get scared. You’re right, Jem. It’s only money. We’ll get some more. Let her go,” he said to Tattoo Face, “and you can have your money.”

“Yeah, right, soft lad. I wasn’t born yesterday. Give me the money and I’ll let her go.”

“We’ll do it together, yeah?”

“No, you’ll give me the money,” Tattoo Face said evenly, “and then I’ll let her go.”

Knowing Spider, I knew what was coming next. I could see it all in my head in slow motion, but Tattoo Face couldn’t. He let out a great cry of dismay as Spider got the money out of the envelope, took the rubber band off, drew his hand way back, and then flung it up and forward, launching the roll into the sky.

Tattoo Face’s grip slackened. He dropped the knife, dropped me, and hurtled down the embankment to the railway track.

I ran toward Spider and we met halfway. He gathered me into him, pressing me into his chest, clutching at my hair.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Jem.” His voice was thick, he wasn’t far from tears himself. “Let’s get out of here. Leave him to it.”

The air was full of money. The pound notes were still falling all around us as we picked our way up the embankment. I looked back at Tattoo Face, bent over, picking up note after note. You could tell he was mad, really mad, muttering to himself as he puffed and panted his way along, facedown.

Spider had both arms around me. When we got to the top of the slope, he helped me over the fence again. I waited for him to join me, but he was standing there, one hand on the railings.

“Come on, let’s get away from here,” I said.

He looked over his shoulder. I groaned.

“No, please, leave it. It’s only money.”

“Just a hundred quid, Jem. Think what we could do with a hundred.”

I reached through the railings and grabbed his sleeve.

“Spider, don’t.”

He unwound my fingers and kissed them.

“I’ll be back in one minute,” he said and started back down the slope.

“Spider, no! No!” I screamed. He was down on the tracks now. Tattoo Face looked up at him.

“Come back for more, have you?”

“I just want a little bit. My cut – it’s mine, anyway.”

“You’re not having any, you little shit. You go back to your girlfriend, right now, or I’ll give you a good hiding.”

Spider squared up to him. “I’m not frightened of you.”

“Funny, that’s what your gran said when I paid her a visit.”

“You what?”

“I just wanted to know where you were. Bit of information. She wasn’t very cooperative, your gran. Gave me a bit of lip, just like you. Still, she wasn’t saying anything by the time I left her…”

“You bastard! What have you done to her?” Spider launched himself straight at him, charging head down into his stomach. He knocked Tattoo Face off his feet, and they rolled together down the embankment onto the tracks. They were tumbling around, wrestling and landing real punches on each other with the sickening noise of flesh slamming into flesh. Behind their animal grunts and groans, there was other noise building up in the background: the rumbling of a distant train, and sirens, lots of them, getting nearer and nearer.

“Spider!” I screamed. “Just get away from him! Get away!” I don’t know if he heard me.

Suddenly, there was so much happening at once. Two police cars and a van swung into the road, screeched to a halt, and spewed out teams of uniforms. They swarmed over the fence. Two feet down the track, a train came into view, rattling along blindly.

“Spider, get out now!” My voice was impossibly thin against the chaos around me. He didn’t hear, or he wasn’t listening. I couldn’t watch. I turned away and sank down to the ground, knees hugged in, eyes tight shut.

All around me people were shouting and screaming. There was an earsplitting squeal as the driver of the train rammed on the brakes. It seemed to go on for hours. I waited until the noise stopped. I would have to look: I needed to know. I tried to make myself breathe – three breaths in, three breaths out – before I turned around.

Through the railings, I could see the train. It had ground to a halt with the last car level with where I sat. The police had Tattoo Face in an armlock. He was still putting up a fight, even with three of them trying to get him