Hyde thought about Maggie and smiled.
He was still smiling when he threw himself in front of the train.
Two
Manchester
In less than two hours it would be dark.
She feared the coming of the night but she also knew that she would be away from this place by then.
Away from them.
Shanine Connor pushed a pair of leggings into the holdall, cramming trainers, knickers and Tshirts in with them. There was no order to her packing, she merely shoved in whichever item came to hand next.
She hurried through to the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush and toothpaste, which she pushed into a plastic bag, before dropping that into the bag along with her clothes.
As she crossed in front of the window she paused to look out, ensuring that she was hidden from any prying eyes by the sheet of unwashed nylon that passed for a net curtain. She could see no movement on the ground floor, three storeys beneath her own flat. A couple of kids were kicking a ball about in the small playground over the road. Another child, no more than seven, was trundling around happily on a tricycle, careful to avoid the football which was bouncing back and forth.
She spotted a car parked a little way down the road and screwed up her eyes in an effort to see inside it.
It seemed to be empty.
She swallowed hard.
Could she be sure?
For interminable seconds she stood squinting at the stationary vehicle - then the moment passed and she remembered the urgency of her situation.
She hurried back into the kitchen and pulled open a drawer, scanning its contents.
She pulled out a long-bladed carving knife, hefting it before her, satisfied with its weight.
As she turned to go back into the sitting room she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror on the wall above the Formica-topped table.
She looked older than her twenty-three years. More sleepless nights than she cared to remember had left her looking pale and puffy-eyed. Dark circles nested beneath her eyes and her skin was the colour of uncooked pastry. Her shoulder-length brown hair needed combing, and she ineffectually ran a thin hand through it before returning to her task.
Shanine slid the knife into the side pocket of the bag.
It would be easy to reach should she need it.
She glanced at her watch.
Come on, hurry up. You’ve taken too long already.
She heard a shout from downstairs and crossed back to the window.
The two kids with the football were kicking it against the low fence surrounding the play area, banging it as hard as they could, shouting encouragement to each other.
The car was still parked.
Waiting?
Shanine finally zipped up the holdall and pulled it onto her shoulder.
She was about to open the door of the flat when she heard footsteps climbing the stairs outside, echoing on the concrete surface.
She sucked in an anxious breath, one hand sliding towards the knife.
The footsteps drew nearer.
They were almost on her landing now. She looked at the door expectantly, her hand now touching the hilt of the weapon.
Silence.
The footsteps stopped.
Shanine took a step nearer to the door, her heart thudding against her ribs.
She closed her eyes for a second, trying to still the mad beating, afraid that whoever was on the other side would be able to hear it.
The moment passed and she heard the footsteps heading up the narrow corridor, away from her door towards one of the other flats.
She waited a moment longer, then opened the door and peered out.
Two or three doors down there was an old woman carrying two bags of shopping, her face flushed with the effort. She looked disinterestedly at Shanine then pushed her key into the lock and stepped into her own flat.
Shanine stepped out onto the landing, locked her door and hurried down the concrete steps, avoiding a mound of dog excrement a few steps down. Graffiti had been sprayed on the walls in bright blue letters. She glanced at the words united are cunts as she scurried down to the next landing.
As she reached ground level she slowed her pace.
Don’t make it look as if you’re running.
The car was still parked further down the street.
Still motionless.
Still waiting?
Her attention was torn from it by a loud shout from one of the kids across the street. She looked at him blankly for a moment, aware that he was staring back at her, his gaze never wavering.
Shanine finally began walking, aware of the watchful eye of the boy, her back to the parked car.
If it was them they would know by now. They would have seen the holdall and they would know.
She quickened her pace.
There was a bus stop at the end of the road. She could catch a bus into the city centre from there. One should be due any minute.
She prayed it wouldn’t be late.
The last thing she wanted was to be standing around, in plain sight, for all to see.
For them to see.
She glanced behind again and saw that the car was still there. Ahead of her she heard the rumble of an engine and saw the bus pulling in.
She ran towards it, waiting as passengers clambered off, then she hauled herself up inside, fumbling in her jacket pocket for some change. She didn’t have much. About a pound in coins, less than ten pounds in the pocket of her worn jeans.
She got her ticket and retreated to the back of the bus, glancing anxiously around her as it pulled away, past the kids kicking the football, past the parked car.
The journey to the city centre should take about fifteen minutes.
She looked at her watch nervously.
As she sat on the back seat she hugged the holdall comfortingly, allowing one hand to rest on the part of the bag where the knife was.
As the bus rounded a corner, Shanine took one last look out of the back window.
The car was gone.
She felt her heart begin to thud more heavily in her chest.
Had it been them?
She looked at her watch again, as if repeatedly doing so was going to hasten the journey.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Time, it appeared, was running out faster than she had realised.
Clouds gathered more thickly in the sky.
Night was coming.
She wondered what was coming with it.
