Wednesday – Krystal part two
‘I’m going to kill him.’
She thought she was going to laugh; that was the most sensible response. But there was something in his serious little face that choked it off. She settled for opening her mouth and closing it again then shaking her head.
‘No you’re not.’
‘Yes I am. I’m going to kill him and dump his body in the river and then he’ll never hit anyone or do what he did to me again.’
There it was again, the look that was a challenge, that dared her to laugh. ‘You’ll get caught.’
‘So you don’t think it’s wrong?’
‘Of course it’s bloody wrong.’
She ducked her head, glancing around the dining room at the others. Four had entered since they started breakfast but they were all too busy eating cornflakes to give a toss what they were talking about. She lowered her voice.
‘Of course it’s bloody wrong. But I don’t care about that. What I’d be worried about is getting caught.’
‘That’s why I need you.’
Krystal took one look at him and snorted. She pushed her chair back and picked up her tea. ‘Lovely talking to you. Good luck with everything.’
She walked as fast as her tea would allow out the dining room and into the morning air. The days that began with tea were always better than those that didn’t. The ones that begin with boys trying to convince her to get involved with murder weren’t normally so good.
She stomped away, trying to choose her destination. Coppers were pretty hot on Tottenham Court Road at the moment. Covent Garden maybe, find a few guilt-ridden tourists. Tourists always paid better than locals. Everyone knew that. ‘Cept maybe Ed. He probably din’t know that. Apparently, he knew nothing.
She heard the pad of feet on the pavement behind her and sighed, shaking her head. Bloody labrador. He came up alongside, puffing.
‘You walk fast.’
‘Yeah s’better than running and gets you places.’
‘Can we talk?’
‘No.’
‘Look, please, just for a mi—’
Krystal stopped and swung her hands about in the air, tea slopping over the edge of her cup. ‘Leave me alone. You ain’t gonna kill him cause then you go to jail and that’s bloody stupid. I mean, that’s it, game over.’
‘Oh, because this game’s so much fun.’
‘This game’s bollocks, init, but trust me, prison makes this look like the sunny side of the street.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe, but I’m going to kill him and I need your help and if you don’t help me then I’m definitely going to prison.’
The tea went flying as she grabbed his collar. She shoved him halfway across the street before the honk of a horn made her remember where they were. She gave him a final push and let go, setting off at a stomp toward Charing Cross. Traffic was building up, all the rich wankers in their suits and ties. Begging here was like sitting in the desert waiting for rain. Only the desert smelled better.
He was following her. She could feel it, like a bit of paper stuck to her shoe. He was bloody mad. And he tried to blackmail her and that was way beyond. She raced across the lights and into the streets around Covent Garden. Coming here reminded her of when she’d still lived at home.
Mum had brought her here, once or twice, after dad left. They hadn’t bought anything. They’d laughed at the thought, but it still felt special. Din’t feel much of anything now ‘cept bile in her throat. Shoes worth more than she was. No, not worth more, just cost more.
She’d been approached, more than once. It was the eyes. And they always offered less than these bastard shoes. A pair of shoes for your virginity and pride and self. Lucky they didn’t know she was a virgin really, or they’d have offered her more. Maybe she’d have been tempted.
Krystal spat on the floor, earning looks from the couple putting tables and chairs outside the cafe. She thought about sitting in one just to watch them react, then opted not to. She glanced over her shoulder as she turned the corner. He was still there, still following. Bloody hell.
She went through the market, out the other side and found a nice spot near a cash point. The sun made begging so much easier. Didn’t get any more money, but people didn’t hurry as much and she could relax. Gets too cold, you never relax, just shiver until you fall asleep.
She’d been there an hour or two before he approached and sat down beside her.
‘Oi, piss off, would you. Never get anything with two of us here.’
‘I’ll split anything I get.’
‘You won’t get anything. People never give when there’re two of you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Who do they give to? They ain’t giving to both and they can’t decide cause it makes ‘em feel bad, so they just don’t give at all.’
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘No you don’t. You said all you need to say. Look, leave me alone. You want advice, leave him alone too. He’s a bastard, complete and utter and you don’t want anything to do wi—’
‘I can still feel him inside me. I can hear him in my ear. I couldn’t leave him alone if I tried.’
Krystal winced, looking down at the cup placed on the pavement before her. How the hell was she supposed to respond to that? ‘Yeah, look, I get that, b—’
‘Do you? Has it happened to you?’
‘Well, no, I been lucky, but he punched me and he’s punched a lot of other people. And done what he did to you. No one’s killed him be—’
‘So he was there to do it to me. How long before he comes for you?’
‘He won’t he only likes boys.’
‘Of course he does, stupid me, why didn’t I know? But how about someone else? Someone else will come for you, won’t they, eventually.’
‘So? Killing him won’t make any bloody difference. He’s gone, it’ll just be someone else. You go to prison and they’ll be lining up.’
‘I can’t go to prison, I’m too young.’
‘You think the Y.O.I.’s any better?’
He fell silent, chewing on his lip like it was his first hot meal in weeks. Krystal tried a few sad looks at the passers-by and got a quid for her troubles. The boy shrunk back against the wall. You’d barely notice him, even if you knew he was there. She tried a bit harder and got enough for some lunch.
Krystal’s stomach growled. The trouble with having breakfast, it makes you hungry for the rest of the day.
‘Right, see you then.’
She set off walking fast and for a moment he stayed where he was, eyes fixed on something far in the distance. Then he scrambled to his feet and raced after her. Krystal’s head was down, protected by the thin material of her hoodie, eyes on the pavement. He’s still there, though, eyes burning through the cotton. Silent treatment time. She’d see how he fared with a one-way conversation.
He seemed happy to say nothing though, so they stomped to the river in silence. There’s a shop, just past Embankment tube that sells cheap sandwiches after lunch, cheaper to people like her. She was still trying to ignore him, but he followed anyway.
Someone shouted, but it couldn’t be aimed at her. She’d not done anything to the best of her knowledge. It was though. Somehow she knew the voice was calling her and her alone. With a grunt, she slowed and peered out the corner of her hoodie. It’s some guy selling flowers. He waved at her and despite all her natural instincts, she wandered over.
‘Yeah?’
‘Hello young lady, how are you today?’
She examined him. Was he for real? Weird face, like his skin can’t decide where to sit. She wasn’t sure about the eyes either. They’d either give you a tenner note or drag you down an alley and beat you to death just for the fun of it. Nice smile though. Krystal stared for a moment before deciding he was in the tenner-note mood.
‘Yeah, alright. Had some tea, got enough for lunch.’
‘Well that is splendid. And who’s this?’
‘Ed.’
‘Hello, Ed, how are you?’
‘Vengeful.’ She answered for him. Ed squirmed beneath both their gazes before shrugging.
‘What she said.’
‘I see. Well, I apologise, but my gift is for Krystal. Wo—’
‘How d’you know my name? Who the hell are you?’
The flower seller smiled again and she relaxed, just a little. What was going on? This guy was a snake. That, or a stalker. Since when did homeless people get stalkers? She tried again. ‘How did you know my name?’
‘How can I have a present for you if I don’t know your name?’
‘That isn’t an answer.’
He nodded and smiled again and she realised he wasn’t going to say anything else. She could either walk away and hope he isn’t enough of a psycho to follow, or wait and see what the present is. It’s been a while since she’s had a present.
‘Yeah, what’s the present then?’
With a flourish, he pulled a single red rose out from a bunch on the front of the stall and handed it to her. The smell hit her before she wrapped careful fingers around it. For a brief moment, the scent takes her away. She’s sat in a penthouse, staring out over the city. She’s wearing new clothes that don’t scratch or have holes in and the whole flat smells like the rose. The popping sound makes her glance over at the open plan kitchen and she sees a coffee percolator coughing away to itself.
She breathes out and is back on Embankment. It’s like being punched in the gut, only without… actually, it’s like being punched in the gut. She glared at the flower seller.
‘Why you giving this to me?’
‘I thought you might need it, a little hope now and then.’
‘Yeah, that and then some. Thanks, I suppose.’
He nodded and smiled. ‘Remember, the greatest gifts are those you give away.’
She opened her mouth to respond but he’s already rushing over to a young couple standing by the stall. She looked at the rose and shook her head. Lunch time.
Next Installment Thursday 26th June
