‘I know,’ I said. ‘But Zoe, Jodie said the flats are going to be knocked down soon.’
‘Yeah.’ Zoe waved her hands at me. ‘But it can’t be, like, next week or anything, because there are still people living here. I’m sure the council has to find them new places to live before they can bring the bulldozers in.’
‘I suppose.’ I looked around and tried not to stare at the window. ‘Wish it wasn’t so high up.’
Zoe laughed at me and pressed herself against the glass, arms wide like an angel. ‘I love it.’
‘Stop it,’ I said, squeezing my eyes shut. ‘I can’t even watch.’
We began to spend all our spare time at the empty flat. Zoe named it Whit’s End and almost every time I went, something new was there. I soon found out how she was furnishing the place.
One afternoon, after we’d been to town, Zoe persuaded me to get off the bus a stop too early because she wanted to go to one of the big supermarkets on a nearby trading estate. She wouldn’t tell me exactly what she was going to buy. She insisted that I didn’t come in with her, but waited right at the entrance to the car park. When I asked why, she shook her head. ‘You’ll see in a minute,’ was all she would say.
I lingered for around quarter of an hour, tapping impatiently at my phone. Then I spotted Zoe trundling towards me, a wire trolley in front of her, loaded with boxes. ‘What have you –’ I started, but Zoe kept walking and staring fixedly ahead.
‘Just keep going,’ she said, out of the side of her mouth. I followed her, striding fast to keep up, out of the trading estate and down a long street. After a few minutes, she glanced behind her and gave a long breath out. She manoeuvred the trolley into the drive of a boarded-up house.
‘What the hell is all this stuff?’ I asked.
Zoe gave me a huge smile. ‘I’ve just got us a kettle, a microwave and a duvet,’ she said.
I opened my mouth for a few minutes. ‘How did you afford all that?’
Zoe gave me one of her ‘you-are-so-stupid’ looks. ‘I didn’t pay for them, that’s how.’
‘But –’
‘Don’t say anything. I really don’t need a lecture. It’s not like the supermarkets will miss the odd thing. They expect the odd bit of shoplifting.’
‘They expect you to slide a bar of chocolate down your trousers, maybe, not walk out with a microwave,’ I said. ‘How did you manage it?’
‘Actually, it’s much easier than nicking bars of chocolate,’ Zoe said. ‘The security guys are on the lookout for people fiddling with their coats and pockets and stuff. Although–’ she opened her long coat and handed me a packet of biscuits. ‘I’m quite good at that too.’
As we wheeled the trolley in the direction of the flats, Zoe said she’d watched someone steal things from the supermarket before. If there was a tag, you could get rid of it with nail clippers, usually, she told me. ‘You have to make sure the security guy is somewhere else, for a start. Then you just need to hold your nerve and walk past the self-service tills like you’ve already paid for it all. I’ve seen it done. I knew I could do it too.’
‘Won’t you be on a CCTV or something?’
‘Yes, but they only go through the CCTV if they’re looking for evidence. If they don’t realise there’s been a theft, they won’t go back through it.’
‘I’m not sure that’s right,’ I said. ‘And they might be watching out for you if you go back there.’
Zoe shrugged. ‘I won’t, then. At least not for a while. There are loads of other supermarkets to pick.’
It was just our luck, though, that the lift wasn’t working that day. We were dragging the boxes slowly and awkwardly up the concrete stairs when we met Dave on his way home. It was the only time I’d ever been pleased to see him, especially when he took the heavy microwave box and carried it for us.
‘Jodie said you’d more or less moved in,’ he said, winking at us.
Zoe gave him a quick smile, but curled her lip behind his back.
‘I wouldn’t call it moving in,’ I said, trying not to look at the dark drop in between the flights of steps. ‘We just use it now and then. To listen to music and stuff. We don’t live there.’
‘You stay there sometimes, though,’ Dave said, nodding at Zoe. ‘All night.’ He stopped as we reached the top floor and Zoe dug in a pocket for the key. ‘So you’re on your own then?’
Zoe shook her head. ‘I only stay if my boyfriend’s with me.’
‘Your invisible boyfriend, yeah.’ Dave carried the box into the kitchen and put it down on the bench. He rolled up his sleeves. His arms were taut, inked over with tattoos. ‘Not going to offer me a drink to say thanks?’
‘We haven’t got anything. Sorry,’ Zoe said.
Dave leaned an elbow on the bench and smiled at us. ‘How are you going to thank me, then, ladies?’
That sick, hot feeling rushed through me again. I stared at the floor.
Zoe marched back to the door and held it open. ‘By not telling your girlfriend you’ve been flirting with us?’
Dave let out a short laugh. ‘Another time, then, eh?’ And he left.
We looked at each other and Zoe pretended to stick her fingers in her mouth and gag.
‘He’s been watching you,’ I said. ‘Don’t stay here on your own, Zoe. It mightn’t be safe. He knows there isn’t really a boyfriend.’
Zoe made a pfffing noise with her lips. ‘I love staying here. I’m not going to let that creep stop me.’
‘Don’t you get scared on
