“Do me a favour, Cookie, don’t tell Weasel about this,” said Jake.
Cookie curled her lip. “You don’t have to worry about that, babe, I won’t tell him nothin’. You just find out where Mia is. ’Cos I know as sure as I’m standing here in front of you that she’s not done anything crazy like what they’re saying.” With a wink at Julian, she turned and teetered away.
Jake thumbed at the maisonettes. “Better park around back. We’ll get noticed fast if we stay here.”
Julian did as Jake said. Uneasy about leaving the car, he followed him to a boarded-up doorway. Jake pulled back the already loose board and they squeezed inside. “Don’t touch anything if you can help it,” he said. “Junkies use this place. There’s used needles all over everything.”
They edged their way along an almost pitch-black hallway and up some stairs to a flat. A finger of sunlight pointed through a partially boarded window, glinting off the scraps of scorched foil strewn over the filthy carpet. In the centre of the floor was a dark, roughly circular stain that might’ve been blood. Somewhere flies buzzed. Julian pulled his t-shirt up over his nose. “It smells like something died in here.”
“Something probably did,” said Jake, approaching the window.
Julian squatted next to him and breathed deeply of the air draughting through the cracked glass. From the window they had a clear view of The H-Bomb’s entrance. A long-haired, bearded, tattooed biker, wearing a leather jacket with the words ‘OUTLAWS’ stitched across its back, rolled up on a Harley and knocked at the bar’s door. The door opened, but they couldn’t see who let him in. Jake took out some cigarettes. “Smoke?”
Julian accepted one, eager to drive the stink of the room from his consciousness. “You think Cookie’s right about Mia?”
Jake puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette, then shrugged. “When we were like ten or eleven, we got sent to live with this foster family. Nice people. I mean, they really tried to make us feel part of the family. And for a while things were good for us. Y’know, three proper meals a day, presents on our birthdays and at Christmas. We even went on holiday. It was only a week in a crappy caravan in Wales, but it was nice. We had ice-cream on the beach, swam in the sea, all that kind of thing. It was like we were a real family.” Jake’s eyes drifted briefly. “When I think about it now, it’s like I dreamed it or something.”
“So what happened?”
“Mia fucked everything up, that’s what.” Jake’s expression grew sour at the memory. “One day our foster parents took us for a picnic by The High Bridge. Mia started acting all weird, doing that staring off into space thing she does. Our foster parents thought she was ill, so we went home. And when we got there she just went nuts. Started smashing everything up. She smashed the TV and a load of ornaments. Then she locked herself in the bathroom, and when there was nothing but herself left to wreck in there, she slashed herself up with broken glass. She was out cold from loss of blood by the time the coppers got there and broke in the door. She was in hospital for ages and when she got better she refused to go back to live with our foster parents. I tried to tell her it wasn’t their fault, they hadn’t been told about what happened to our mum, but she wouldn’t listen. So we ended up back in the children’s home ’cos they wouldn’t split us up. And just look how that worked out for us.” Jake fell silent, shaking his head.
“What about Mia’s latest foster family. Did you live with them too?”
“Yeah, for about a month, until I got caught joyriding.”
“What did you think of her foster dad?”
“Mr Aldridge, he’s alright, bit of a toucher.”
“How do you mean?”
“Y’know, he likes to get in your space, put his hands on you.”
“What, like in a sexual way?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just friendly.”
“He didn’t seem very friendly to me,” muttered Julian, lapsing into a frowning silence. As he watched several more bikers roll up to The H-Bomb, shuddering at the thought of it, he said, “You don’t think Mr Aldridge ever did anything to Mia, do you?”
Jake snorted. “If you knew Mia like I do, you wouldn’t need to ask that. When you grow up in children’s homes, you have to learn how to look after yourself. If that fucker tried anything on with her, she’d have torn his dick off.”
They watched in silence for a while. Jake took out a penknife with a six-inch blade and dug at the rotten window-frame with it. “What’s that for?” Julian asked uneasily.
“Protection. I told you junkies use this place.”
A thought occurred to Julian. “What if this Ginger is the woman I saw, what then?”
“We get her to tell us where she went with Mia.”
“And what if she won’t?”
Jake pushed the blade deeper into the wood. “She will, I’ll make fuckin’ sure of that.”
Not liking the sound of that, Julian frowned. “Don’t you think it’d be a better idea to call the police, let them deal with her?”
Jake looked at Julian, that animal light in his eyes again. “Thought you said you cared about Mia.”
“I do, that’s why-”
“No fuckin’ coppers,” cut in Jake. “We do this ourselves, right?”
Julian returned his stare a moment, then blinked and said, “Okay.” In his mind, he saw Jake holding the knife to the woman’s throat. It gave him a queer sliding feeling in his stomach, a feeling of fear mixed with excitement. He took a deep breath, like someone about to dive into deep water.
The day wore on into the afternoon and beyond. They smoked the last of the cigarettes. They didn’t talk much. They had little or nothing in common except Mia, and they’d said all they needed to say about her for the moment. The squalor of the room made Julian feel oppressed, claustrophobic. He could feel the stink in his nostrils, on his skin. A sense of panic, a need to get out of there grew in him as darkness closed on the street. He stood suddenly, heaving a breath. “How much longer are we going to have to wait in his shit-hole?”
“I was here four days before that bitch showed up,” said Jake.
“Fuck, how did you stand it?”
Jake shrugged. “It’s just a place. Places can’t hurt you, if there’s no the people in them.”
Feeling somewhat spineless, and a little ashamed, Julian squatted down again. Heavy rock music was thumping out of The H-Bomb now. Groups of bikers were gathered in front it, smoking and drinking. “Those are some serious looking dudes,” said Julian.
Jake gave a contemptuous grunt. Julian started to say something else, but Jake shushed him and pointed. “There she is.”
A woman in biker’s leathers stepped out the door framed by the light within. Julian craned his neck, squinting. The woman in the car had worn her hair up, but Ginger’s hair was down and spread over her shoulders, so that it was difficult to make out her face. “Is it her?” Jake asked.
“I-” Julian broke off with an intake of breath as Ginger moved forward into the glow of a street-light. “Yes, it’s her.” His tone was one of slight disbelief. Somehow he’d never expected it to really be her. But it was, and now the sliding feeling was back, stronger than before.
Jake sprang up. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Where do you think? We’re gonna follow the bitch.”
Chapter 17
Julian stumbled after Jake through the reeking darkness to the car. Relieved to find it still there and in one piece, he started the engine and pulled around to the street in time to see Ginger climb onto the back of a motorbike. The guy in front of her had the bloated body of a weightlifter gone to seed. He looked, to Julian, like he could’ve effortlessly picked up him and Jake, one in each of his hands, and cracked their heads together. They followed the motorbike to a street in which hardly any of the houses had all their doors and windows intact. Ginger and the man went into one of the houses. A light came on in the downstairs window.
“What now?” asked Julian.
