Part One is here

Friday – Sam Part One

It made no sense. She was healthy. She exercised four times a week, she ate nothing with refined sugar in and she had one glass of wine with her Sunday lunch. So how had she got cancer? She squeezed her eyes shut and took deep breaths. She wrinkled her nose. The tube smelled pungent today, probably thanks to the large man in the too-small t-shirt beside her.

What was he doing out anyway? It was seven in the morning and there was no way he was going to work, so why was he even here? She sniffed, wrinkled and rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. It came away with a hint of foundation and she sighed again.

‘Cheer up, love, can’t all be bad.’

He was speaking to her, with one of those smiles that says ‘I’m talking to you but I’m thinking about your breasts.’ She tried to imagine him undressed, but all she could picture was bulging white skin covered in hairs and spots and she clamped her lips together and swallowed.

‘Really, I mean, think about it? What have you got to be grateful for?’

God, he was still trying. Actually, that was a good question. The doctor had told her to think about that when she had moments like this. She looked anew at the man in the t-shirt. Had he had cancer? Maybe he still had it. She opened her mouth and closed it again.

Stupid. Of course he didn’t, he just lucked on the question. It was still a good one though. What was she grateful for? She was grateful for mum and dad. She was grateful for having her job and how nice they’d been about it all. She was grateful she no longer noticed the absence on the other side of the bed.

Getting rid of the photos had helped. Having her there, staring at her every time she walked in the door was the height of stupidity, but she hadn’t been able to just cut her out of her life. Even if Tanya had tried her best to do exactly that.

But the space was just space now. It wasn’t a Tanya-shaped space, nor was it a lack on her part, some fictional issue she had that drove other women away. Now it was just space. So she was grateful for that.

She blinked. The big man was staring at her, nodding and smiling. ‘There’s something, isn’t there?’

She nodded and flushed, putting her hand to her throat. Maybe he had got it, or had it. Maybe it didn’t matter. The therapist said it might have come from her anger. She’d laughed at him, in his posh shirt and tight jeans. He looked like a therapist as much as she did, but he was deadly serious.

‘Our diseases come from somewhere, Samantha. Often we cause them ourselves. You carry a lot of anger, too much I fear. What are you so angry about?’

She hadn’t been able to tell him. It was only the second appointment and she was in pieces, waking up five times a night to prowl around the flat and read websites on the C word. Four months later, she still couldn’t tell him. How do you explain to someone that you’ve always been angry?

She didn’t know where it came from, or why it came, but the world was flawed and no one else seemed to realise. No one else saw the hurt and rudeness and destruction and crappiness that went on everyday, so no one else got angry about it.

The tube rolled into Embankment and she got off. She managed to flash the big man a grateful smile and he gave a little wave, the kind big men who should be smaller give. His face followed her all the way to the office. She should have said something. She should have said what she was grateful for, and that right then, she was grateful for him.

She stopped her lip from curling into a sneer as she crossed reception.

‘Good morning, Miss Frane.’

She raised a hand as she made for the lift. She had meetings today, but she was exhausted. She’d stopped sleeping again. The doctor said the chemo’ would do that, but for all his warnings, she wasn’t ready for it. It was like she ran a marathon in her sleep and when she woke up, she just wanted to go back to bed.

She could manage the first hour or so. Habit and the determination to not give in got her out of the house. Then it hit and she staggered to the tube. The rest on the way gave her enough energy to get into her office but now she could hardly stand. She checked her schedule. Meeting after meeting after meeting. The pad was wet and with a sniff of realisation, she grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.

No point in feeling sorry for herself, no point at all. The chemo’ was over in a couple of weeks and then she had the op and then it was recovery and she could put all this behind her. Maybe her memories of Tanya would finally go with it.

She put her phone on the desk. Knowing it was stupid, she pressed the button and the screen lit up. Tanya smiled up at her and her mouth wobbled. With a growl she unlocked it, went into settings and changed her save screen to blank. With a sigh of satisfaction, she slammed the phone back on the desk and went for her mouse.

Elizabeth turned up ten minutes later and stuck her head through the door. ‘Morning, Miss Frane, can I get you anything?’

Sam stared at her, wondering whether everyone who had chemo’ got the blurring around the edges of their eyes, and shook her head. The door was almost closed when she called her back.

‘Sorry, Liz, actually, yeah. I need to cancel the morning meetings. Sorry, I’m just…’

Liz nodded, eyes sad. ‘Yes, of course, no problem. Can I get you a drink or anything.’

‘Is it too early for gin?’

‘Probably just a bit. You could have coffee and pretend there’s liqueur in there.’

‘Couldn’t you just put liqueur in there instead of me pretending?’

Lis smiled and pulled the door too. Sam stared at it, at the dark wooden paneling covered in shiny lacquer, and ever so slowly put her head on the desk. She sat up guiltily when the phone rang, sweeping imaginary sleep dust from the corners of her eyes. Had she been asleep?

Face flushing red, she answered the phone.

‘Samantha Frane.’

‘Hello Samantha, it’s Doctor Islam. I’m sorry to bother you at work. Do you have a minute to talk?’

‘Of course, why, what’s up?’

There was a moment’s silence and it was enough for her to know. She bit her lip and grabbed the table edge with one hand, squeezing until her fingers ached.

‘We have all the results back now and I thought you would want to know immediately. The tumour is larger than we thought. Also, the cancer has spread into your lymph nodes. If we operate now, I think we can get it all, but I must warn you, it is a long procedure and will leave you out of action for some considerable time.’

He kept talking, but she didn’t hear him. She didn’t hear anything save the rushing in her ears. Her hand shook where it gripped the table and she stared in wonder at the whiteness of her knuckles. She’d never been that pale, so where did the whiteness come from?

‘Samantha, are you there?’

His voice, always so damned soft, flooded back into her consciousness.

‘Yes, yeah, I’m here.’

‘Do you understand what I am saying?’

‘Yeah, when will you operate?’

‘I have booked it in for Tuesday. I will not be operating though, this isn’t my area of expertise so I will pass you to a colleague of mine. She is outstanding, you will be in good hands. I need you to come in and see me today or tomorrow, can you do that?’

She organised things, autopilot taking over while her mind drifted up to the ceiling and stared down at her. She saw the straight, mousey-blond hair brushing her shoulders. The thin, even face that would be pretty if it weren’t so severe. She watched her lips wobble as she answered the questions and put the phone down. Then she slammed back into her body and heaved a great groan that doubled her over until she dropped from her chair and onto the floor.

‘Miss Frane, are you alright?’

Liz’s tremulous voice cut through her sobs and she looked up. Liz had never seen her cry and she knew what she must look like, but her PA came rushing around the table and wrapped her arms around her. It was probably the worse thing she could have done. Sam stiffened, drawing her shoulders in, tears drying up.

‘I’m fine, really. Can you get me an appointment with Mr Edwards. Needs to be today.’

Liz backed away, hands out to her. ‘Are you su—’

‘NOW, please, sorry. Yes, now please, straight away if possible, thank you.’

Liz dashed out the office and Sam slumped back in her seat. She spun the chair so she could stare out the big window behind her. She could see the river and thousands of people, going about their lives like she wasn’t this close to death.

She stood and sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t be in here. She couldn’t talk to her boss and try and explain why her job didn’t matter anymore, why nothing mattered. She grabbed her jacket and ran. Liz called after her and it was probably something caring, something that she needed to hear, but she couldn’t hear it, not now.

Minutes later she burst out onto the street and sucked in a huge lungful of filthy London air. She could breathe again, as ludicrous as it sounded. Out here she was one among millions and not one of them knew her, or what was happening to her. She didn’t know why that was so important, but it was. She stamped past the yard and glanced at the van parked inside. It had been there when she left yesterday and it was still there. There was something creepy about it, with all the blacked out windows and nasty bumper stickers.

Sam set off for the river. It would be clearer there and she could pretend she was on holiday, cruising by the Thames. She used to come here with Tanya all the time. They’d hang out on the South Bank, or laze on the steps of St Paul’s. She sniffed and rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand, then looked in horror at the mascara smeared across it.

She reached Embankment and headed straight for the railings. As she leaned against them, the phone rang. She stiffened, like the railings had electricity running through them. She struggled to breathe as she pulled her phone from her jacket pocket. She was too hot and she yanked the jacket off as well, not yet daring to look at the phone screen. She didn’t need to.

She knew it was Tanya.

Next Installment Thursday 10th July

Part One is here

Thursday – Jackson Part Two

How had he lost so much time? Bloody tourists. He shoved his way through the traffic, growling under his breath. They were meeting in the park. Him and the two of them on a bench, all cosy and out the way.

He was sweating, a thick sheen of it all over his dome. Bloody, sodding bollocks. He ran over the road and into the park. They wouldn’t want to wait. And they wouldn’t be impressed. He hadn’t thought he cared that much but turns out he did.

He slowed as he neared the centre of the park and followed the instructions. He spotted them before they spotted him and took a moment to examine. They were wearing suits. Should he have worn a suit? He spat, drawing stares from the people around him. Why did he care? Bloody Chinese bastards, he was better than them.

Jackson stomped over and stopped before the bench, arms folded. They looked up at him and for a brief moment his blood ran cold. Bitch had dead eyes, but they were nothing on these two.

‘Hi, you Li and Han?’

They still stared at him. One of them, who knew which, lifted an arm and carefully examined his watch.

‘Yeah, I know, bloody tourists in the way.’ He stopped himself before he could say anything else stupid. Their eyebrows rose and he opened his mouth again, then shut it. He shifted from foot to foot.

‘We do not appreciate being made to wait.’

Jackson blinked. The guy had an American accent, bang on. Weird.

‘Yeah, like I said, tourists.’

The one who hadn’t spoken patted the bench beside him. Jackson was sitting before he had time to think. This was that bastard flower seller’s fault. He’d thrown him. He’d been having a good morning and now it was all over the shop because of him. Sodding roses. He scrubbed his hand on the knee of his jeans and turned to the two Chinese men.

‘Let’s put this little issue of lateness behind us, shall we, and begin again. I am Li, then is Hen.’

Jackson stuck out a hand and received the limpest handshakes known to man. What was he so worried about? These guys were creepy but he could snap them both without blinking. Hell, bitch could snap them.

‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. We thought this would be a good time in our relationship to develop a deeper understanding. It is important that we are all on the same page, you understand?’

Jackson nodded, waiting. There was a but in this. He didn’t know what it was, but it was definitely there.

‘Tell me, Jackson, where do you see yourself in five years time?’

Jackson blinked. He hadn’t been asked that since school. When they asked him there, he told them he’d be robbing cars. Turns out he went a bit further, but they never expected anything from him, so cars seemed pretty big at the time.

‘Dunno. Working with you, I suppose.’

Was that the right answer? His hands were in his lap and he rubbed them together.

‘I see. You wouldn’t want to be in our position, making people like you do all the work?’

‘Well, maybe, dunno.’

‘You haven’t thought about this very much, have you, Jackson? I only ask because we want to work with people who think ahead, people who think about the big picture.’

‘Uh, yeah, I think about it. I mean, I’m getting a new van. Gonna have straps and stuff, make it much easier. Means I can get more in one go, too.’

The men looked at one another and turned back to him. He thought the one doing the talking was grinning, but maybe not. ‘Well, that’s very good to hear, truly.’ Li nodded and smiled for sure now and Jackson found himself smiling back.

‘We have a proposition for you, Mr Jackson.’

‘Uh, it’s just Jackson.’

‘Well. We are expanding our operations. Until now we have been focusing on older children, those strong enough to work and satisfy our clients’ needs. We wish to diversify and become more specialist. We want younger children, toddlers. Can you still work with us?’

He didn’t have to think. ‘Yeah, course. Don’t matter what age they are. Gonna be trickier to find though, less homeless ones.’

‘Well, that will be your challenge. The rest of our operations will continue in just the same way and we would expect to receive children, not promises or excuses. Do you understand?’

Jackson nodded, face heating up. He could get em, but it’d take longer. He might have to bring in some other people as well.

‘When do we start?’

‘Mr Jackson, you have already started. Thank you.’

He turned away and the two men talked in quiet voices. Realising he was dismissed, Jackson stood and walked away. He was dazed, thrown by what had just happened. They didn’t want to go for drinks or nothing, and what was that about? Still, they wanted to stick with him and that was just fine.

He stopped. They hadn’t discussed price. Kiddies were gonna take a lot more time, they had to be worth more. He turned back to the bench, but it was empty. Dammit, where the hell had they gone?

He did a slow circle, catching sight of people through the trees. But every time he moved to see them, it was other people. Creepy bastards. He headed back to the bench, then turned to leave the park. He spotted them, standing over near the exit. He raised his hand and dashed across, making sure to keep his voice down until they were close.

‘Here, we didn’t talk about price.’

The look they gave him was strange, like they’d never met and Li stepped forward. It might have been Hen, he wasn’t sure.

‘I am sorry, sir, I don’t know you. Nor do I know what price you are talking about. Excuse me.’

He turned away and fighting the urge not to, Jackson grabbed his arm and pulled him back around. ‘What the hell you talking about? You can’t pay me the same for the young-uns, so don’t try and bullshit me.’

Li looked at the hand on his arm and up at Jackson. His face split into a smile and there was something oddly familiar about it. He couldn’t pin it down and what happened next took all thoughts of familiarity from his mind. The man’s face split apart, his lower jaw dropping until it rested on his chest while the top of his head disappeared backward. From the darkness of his throat a pair of hands reached up and grabbed either side of his widening mouth.

With the sound like a blocked toilet finally clearing, a head emerged from his throat, followed by a body and a young girl climbed out. Her hair stuck wet to her head and her face was covered in spit. She scrubbed it away with her sleeve, staring at him. Jackson backed away, hands pressed to the sides of his head. He heard mumbling and realised it was him. ‘What the hell, what the hell, what the hell?’

The other man fell onto his hands and knees and his suit jacket ripped all the way up the back seam. The skin beneath it was bruised deep purple but now it tore open. Jackson winced, expecting blood to erupt, but instead a child emerged to stand atop the wrecked body.

Jackson took another step back, his heel caught and he landed on his arse. He didn’t feel the pain, his eyes fixed on the two children stealing toward him. There was something familiar about them also, but he couldn’t place it. He couldn’t place anything except the sweat running down his back and the way his hands shook where they gripped his head.

He had a moment to ask what was happening before he felt the hands. Tiny hands gripping his waist and shoulders and splayed flat across his head. He shrieked and scrambled to his feet, breaking free of the children surrounding him. He dashed away and they watched him go.

He got to the entrance to the park and slowed. They weren’t following. He took deep breaths, head swinging to and fro as he rested his hands on his legs. They’d poisoned him. This was some sort of test by those creepy bastards. They’d spiked him somehow and he was hallucinating.

He shook his head and slapped himself around the face. He drew odd looks from the passers-by but right now he couldn’t give a toss. Something brushed his leg and he looked down. A young girl, no more than twelve, – he was a good judge – stood beside him. She looked up, pale green eyes set in deep, black sockets.

‘Hi Jackson, you wanna come play?’

He screamed and lashed out. His fist collided with her face and something gave beneath the blow. People passing by stopped now and stared at him. One man came forward, hands out-stretched, and Jackson flailed at him, batting his hands away.

‘Why don’t you want to play? You said we’d have fun.’

He turned back to the girl. Her face was caved in, one eye burst and the bone of the cheek cracked and poking through the flesh. His stomach heaved. He could handle blood as well as the next man, but she was still standing, still talking to him through crushed lips.

He wanted to run but he was surrounded. He put his head down and charged at the nearest one. He’d make a path and they’d never stop him. The person moved out the way and he dashed straight into the railings on the edge of the park. His head struck the metal and he groaned and staggered away.

More hands grabbed him and his stagger became a fall. He landed on his back hard enough to knock the air from his lungs and he gasped and lashed out with fists and feet. Nothing connected and the hands returned. Soon he was pinned. All about him, children’s faces looked down. They were all familiar in their own way.

‘We’re yours, Jackson.’

‘You took us.’

‘And you tried to sell us, but we’ll always be yours.’

A boy, twelve or thirteen, loomed large in his sight. Then hands went into his mouth and he felt them pull his tongue away and slip down his throat. He gagged and vomited but nothing came up. The hands went further and he thought his face would split apart. From the pain that came next, he thought maybe it had.

The hands slipped down until he swore he felt them in his chest. Then the head followed and the shoulders and he screamed, the sound a gurgled, muted cry. His entire body was tearing apart and why wasn’t he unconscious?

His mouth closed up around the boy’s feet and his scream came out whole now. His body shook, great convulsions that made his head slam against the floor. His arms were free and he tried to stand but he couldn’t move. He got as far as sitting up before the hands pulled him down again.

The next was a girl and she was definitely familiar. He’d taken her only a couple of weeks ago. She’d been sleeping out of the hostel and they were his favourite. Promise of a warm bed and she jumped into the van. Now though, her hands were pulling at his lips and try as he might, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Interlude

The flower seller turned away and vanished into the crowd. What made it worse were the number of children queuing for their turn. Jackson had been at it a while. He should have felt remorse, some sort of pain at what he was being asked to do. But there wasn’t even a hint.

Truth was, the flower seller had never expected to succeed. How Jackson got on the list was anyone’s guess. The subjects were supposed to be on the edge, but he was well past it. The choice he made today was between evil and greater evil. There was no salvation so far as the flower seller could see.

The street around him faded and the stone of his chamber came into view as he dropped back into his body. He stood from his chair and stretched. He glanced back through the window to the park and the man lying prostrate on the concrete path. To those standing around, he was just another lost soul who’d finally slipped free of sanity. But the flower seller could still see the long line of children.

There was supposed to be salvation, real salvation that made a difference. The list was tough this week. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t be beholden to it like all the rest. But the truth was, he liked being a seller. It was just the weekly reviews that made it drag. Still, two in either column. There were three days left, it could go either way. He picked up the list and scanned it. So many choices being made.

He sighed. Now and then he got a sense of just how big their job was. When he was down among the nitty gritty, he could ignore the bigger picture, but the list trailed off his desk and out into space and the end was somewhere far below him.

He needed a drink. He dumped the list on the table and jumped.

Next Installment Monday 7th July

Part One is here

Thursday – Jackson Part One

Jackson woke and slid from his bed. Bitch was still sleeping. She could stay there. Better to not hear her bitching voice this early in the morning. Breakfast, comb through the beard thirty times, wax on the scalp and out to the van. He squeezed behind the wheel, head brushing the roof and huge hands gripping the wheel.

Busy day. He checked himself in the rear view. Beard looked good, eyes not so much. He’d been drinking too much. Anything to block out the bitch moaning and whining at him every night. He had red bits around his dark irises, blood vessels that burst and spilled into the whites. He sniffed, hawked and spat out the window. It struck the dust of the yard and rolled into a tiny dust-covered ball.

Shit game last night. Not one good player on the pitch. They fired the managers but it was the players getting the money to be shit every week. He spat again and pulled out of the yard to the road, yellow dust following in the van’s wake.

He prodded his nose as he waited to pull out at the lights. Bitch had hit him a few weeks back and he was beginning to think she’d broken it. Not the first time, which was why it was so difficult to be sure. But it moved differently and felt even more spread out than usual.

He pulled out, giving the finger to the guy beeping him and headed into town. He’d park up at Pavan’s and the guy could like it. Too much to do to worry about the wardens. Far too bloody much to do. They were coming in tonight.

He bit his lip, the only sign he’d ever give he was worried. Worried was too strong a word for it. He wasn’t worried about shit, ‘cept maybe bitch sleeping around. She was too, no doubt. But still, it bore thinking about. Two years and seven months and now they were coming to visit. Why?

He’d ask them when they got here and if they couldn’t give him an answer, he’d find someone else to sell to. There were plenty who wanted ‘em. Hell, they were queuing up at the door. He stopped at the lights and checked the back. Ropes all present and correct.

He reached Pavan’s without any of the wankers on the road driving into him. Always a bloody miracle, considering how many there were these days. He parked up and went for a walk. He strolled down to Embankment, checking out the tourists, watching for the weak spots.

There were a couple of girls, young, bag straps over both shoulders. He approached them with a warm smile but they hurried away. Too old anyway. He kept moving, watching, waiting. He headed for the South Bank. There were school trips there sometimes, but today it was empty. He did spot a couple of homeless kids, familiar territory. One was a young boy, long lanky black hair. The other was a girl, older than the boy and pretty in a skinny sort of way. Bob hair cut and thin lips. He headed over but they spotted him and moved on quick enough.

It was fine. This was window shopping. He stomped over the Millennium bridge and strolled back toward Embankment. Most of the way there when he smelled them. They took him back and he stopped dead, eyes watering. For a moment he was in mam’s garden, surrounded by rose bushes, watching her bustle about. She looked down and smiled at him and he opened his mouth. His breath came in short gasps and he placed one hand against his heart. Why did it hurt so bad? The smell faded and some semblance of reality returned. He stared at mam until the rot appeared and she faded away.

He sneered and wandered over to the flower seller. The flowers were impressive. Mam would have loved them. He resisted the urge to buy them all and toss ‘em in the river.

‘Nice stall.’

‘Thank you, sir, perhaps I can interest you in something?’

He was taking the piss. What was it with that stupid voice? ‘I ain’t buying no flowers.’

‘Perhaps for a lady friend? Ladies always love to be given flowers.’

‘Don’t know no ladies.’

‘I see.’

The flower seller looked down at his feet. He was a weird one, skin all messed up like he’d been burned or something. Jackson blinked and the skin was back to normal.

‘How about one red rose then? The bitches love a red rose.’

He balled his hands into fists and leaned over the table between the flowers. ‘You taking the piss?’

‘Not at all, sir, merely meeting you in a place I thought you’d be comfortable.’

‘I ain’t never gonna be comfortable round a poofter like you, get it?’

‘Absolutely, sir. I can offer you a sample. Here, take the rose for free, please.’

Jackson looked at the flower held out to him and the scent caught his nose and trapped it. He could see mam, he could almost hear her. With a growl he lashed out and smashed the head of the rose, sending the petals flying. He stomped away, not wanting to look the flower seller in the eye and not sure why.

He got a few paces before he stopped and checked himself. He always looked people in the eye. He turned, hands shaking from being clenched so hard and approached the man. He stood where he’d left him, the empty rose stem still clutched in his hand. As Jackson approached, he raised his head and their eyes met.

‘That was unnecessary.’

‘Screw you, offering me a rose.’

‘What is so bad about offering you a rose?’

‘What the heck? You think I’m a poofter or summink?’

‘I merely thought you might like something to give your woman when you got home. I’m sure you have one, you carry yourself like a man used to getting what he wants.’

‘Damn right. Why would I want to give her anything?’

‘Not to put too fine a point on it, to keep her sweet. Sometimes it’s easier to stroke than keep clear of the claws.’

What the hell was he talking about? He was right though, she wouldn’t… he glanced at his watch and swore. They would be here in a few minutes and he was too far away. What the hell had he been thinking? And where had the bloody time gone?

He dashed down Embankment, leaving the roses on the stall.

Interlude

The flower seller watched him go, satisfied with the smear of water and rose petal on the back of Jackson’s hand. It didn’t count as receiving, not strictly, but it would do.

That was lazy. But if these were the only tools they gave him, what did they expect? He could probably have tried harder, but he’d tried and that’s what counted. He turned back to the stall and started to pack up. There was work still to be done.

He tried to keep the smile from his face, but he couldn’t help cracking a grin. What a singularly unpleasant man. His list entry had made it quite clear how nasty a piece of work he was, but he was all that and more in the flesh.

He felt it, his old life, at times like this. It had been centuries, but he couldn’t help remembering the old thrill when an opportunity arose. It was, he thought, the creative part of himself, stifled from his time in the Flights. They didn’t appreciate creativity in the Dome. They appreciated numbers and results.

Well, he could have both. He opened his jacket and one by one placed the bunches of flowers inside, where they vanished. He whistled quietly to himself as he worked.

Next Installment Thursday 3rd July

Part One is here

Wednesday – Krystal Part Three

The lady in the shop was like the most generous person in the world. She gave her enough sandwiches for dinner as well and asked for a quid. Still shaking her head, Krystal wandered down to the river. Something was bugging her. Something other than the silent ghost drifting along behind.

It was the look the woman gave the rose she carried. As she walked in the shop, both women behind the counter turned to look at her and they both zeroed in on the rose. They had some sort of look between them then treated her like their daughter. Which was weird cause she wasn’t that much younger than them.

She shrugged and settled on a bench. Another sunny day. Ed came and set beside her, as far to the other end as possible.

‘I’m going to do it tonight.’

‘How? How you gonna do it?’

‘There are four hostels round here, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So I’ll go to each one until I find him. When I do, I’ll put a knife between his ribs.’

‘You know how difficult it actually is to stab someone to death? There are guys in America in those prisons got stabbed like fifty times and din’t die.’

‘Yeah, but he’ll be sleeping and I’ll put it in his heart.’

‘Even so.’ She sighed. What the hell was she thinking? ‘What do you need me for then?’

‘I need you to vouch for me, to say I was with you all night.’

‘Ooh yeah, you and me cosying up, I can see it now. Bollocks, they won’t go for that.’

‘He’s just one of us. Why would they believe a dead person and not both of us?’

He was right. She could say the right words and probably, maybe, it would work.

‘Where’s the knife?’

‘I don’t know. I have to find one. But that’s easy. As long as the blade’s long enough.’

She hissed through her teeth and stared at the unwrapped sandwich in her hand. Her appetite was gone but she still stuffed it into her mouth and took a bite. It was bloody delicious and her appetite came flooding back. She crammed the best part of it into her mouth and, without thinking, offered the other one to Ed.

He looked from it to her and with that labrador face, took it in shaking hands. She was skinny, but he was scary thin, like he’d fall over in a strong wind.

‘You ain’t got the strength to put it through his skin.’ Why was she even contemplating this?

‘I have. It won’t take much, not with a sharp knife.’

‘He’ll wake up, you know? Moment the point goes in ‘im, he’ll wake up and go for you.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’ll line it up and do it in one big shove. I’ve thought about it.’

‘Yeah, I can tell. So I help you, what’s in it for me?’

‘My undying gratitude.’

She burst out laughing, sides aching from the unfamiliar. ‘Right, so you’ll remember me when you’re driving around in your Ferrari, that right?’

He chuckled as well. ‘I don’t have anything else.’

‘You know what you got? You’ve got your freedom and the chance something might be different tomorrow.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

She sneered and hissed at him. She’d keep her bloody sandwiches next time. She was only angry cause he was right. She din’t believe it, not for a second. She was counting the winters till they got a bad one and she couldn’t get in the hostel and they found her next morning looking like frosty the bloody snowman. Just counting the days.

Was prison such a bad option compared to that? She sniffed and got off the bench. Maybe doing something different was the change she needed. ‘Alright, I can do that. Where are we gonna say we were?’

His eyes opened a little wider and she realised he hadn’t planned this far ahead. ‘Surprised you, did I?’

He looked slightly sick as he nodded. ‘Yeah. Um, so, I suppose one of the hostels that he’s not at.’

‘So we start together at one of them and you can go off and find him and then come back and I’ll say you never left.’

‘Yeah, yeah, that sounds perfect.’

He stood and bounced from foot to foot. ‘I better be off, need to find a knife.’

‘Yeah. Same place as last night?’ She thought about offering to help, but that was a step too far. One thing at a time. He nodded and walked off, head not quite so bowed. He slipped between the normals in their suits and was gone. She blinked and looked down at the rose in her hand. Why had he given her this?

It was a slow day, but she got enough cash for the hostel. She trudged back to Black Street, where she’d started the day, and rang the bell. It would be Mrs Ely again tonight. She stood on the step, twisting the rose between her fingers and caught the scent again.

She was transported. She stood in a graveyard, rain pelting her. Her clothes stuck to her body and she shivered. The rose was still in her hand and she placed it on a mound of freshly dug earth. The headstone just said Ed and she shivered again.

The sound of a door opening intruded and she blinked. The graveyard was gone, replaced by the opening door of the hostel. The rose looked sort of ordinary, the petals curled and pale from a day in her hand. She sniffed and headed inside.

He arrived out of breath, kitchen knife stuffed in his belt. They didn’t say much, just ate more of the sandwiches and stared at the walls. They hadn’t talked about what they’d do if Dawid turned up here. Probably stay until it was done, she guessed, but the words kept sticking in her throat.

It was actually happening. She only believed it when he got up and leaned down, mouth close to her ear.

‘You’re going to do this, right?’ His voice shook.

She nodded. ‘Yeah, I am.’

He went to the door and was about to go when she jumped up. ‘Here, it’s weird, but d’you want the rose?’

She shoved it at him and he took it before he realised what it was. He blinked as he looked at it and back at her. ‘Thanks.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

The door closed and she stared into her cup. The tea swirled gently round and round and she watched it. Circles, never ending circles. Every time she thought they’d stop, she put her spoon back in and stirred a little more. That was all it took, a spoon in the right place, a knife in the right back and the circles began.

She smashed her hand through the cup and the contents flew across the room to strike the wall. The other two in there gasped and stared and she ignored them. Who put their fist through her life? She wasn’t sure if it was dad, or mum, or social or all three. But there had been circles and circles and then the fist came and she was showered all over the wall.

Krystal swore and jumped from her seat. She ignored Mrs Ely’s cries of dismay as she headed out the front door and dashed down Black street toward Shaftesbury Avenue. Three hostels and the streets were dark and already quietening. She kept up a steady stream of invective as she raced toward Soho.

She’d seen him there more often than not. It was the biggest, above the YMCA and always packed. Easy place for him to find his next victim. She sniffed as she ran, catching scent of the rain that threatened to wash London out by the morning. That would be fitting. But she’d seen blood in rain, after an accident. It didn’t wash away, it just thinned out until the street turned pink.

She reached the hostel and bent double, hands on her knees. Her chest heaved and spots appeared before her eyes. She had to get inside, she couldn’t be too late. She rang the bell then thumped the door until it was pulled open by an angry looking Mr Jensen. He frowned, lined face growing deep crevices.

‘Yeah, sorry, I know it’s late, please?’

The creases didn’t go away, but he stood back and made room for her. With a grateful smile she slipped past him and surveyed the main room. It was busy tonight but she saw him instantly. He was in a crowd, sat on the arm of a chair, leaning over a boy no older than Ed and saying something that made them all laugh.

Her skin crawled and she stopped by the door. Did he deserve to live? He would do it tonight, same as most nights and another boy would be scarred. Ed would stop that. Speaking of which…

She checked them, one at a time. He wasn’t here. Unless he’d already gone to bed. She weaved through the common room, waving at the people she recognised. If she was Ed, she’d call them friends, but that was stupid. No one was friends here.

She headed for the dorms. They were separated here so she waited until the coast was clear before she sneaked into the boys’. Ed was there, with his back to her. He knelt in the centre of the room, head bowed and she paused, watching him. What was he doing? Was he praying? She snickered and he jumped and spun round. Tears ran down his snot-covered face and he clutched the knife in both hands.

‘What are you doing here?’ His voice shook.

‘I’m not doing it.’

His control shattered and he howled, falling on his face and spreading his arms wide. He looked like he’d fallen from high up and splattered across the dormitory floor. She took a step closer and his fists clenched. She took a deep breath as he suddenly sat up, bringing the knife in toward himself.

It all happened horribly fast. The knife twisted until it was aimed at him and she shouted something. She didn’t know what, she was too busy diving at him. The knife moved, flashing beneath the fluorescent strip and she saw it slip through the ragged material of his t-shirt. Then her hand caught his arm and the knife and both of them went flying.

He was pinned to the floor beneath her. It would never have happened with anyone else, but he was so slight. The knife slid away from them and bumped into the far wall. She panted. He shook beneath her and she rolled off, thumping onto the floor and looking across at him. His forehead pressed against the cold tiles, snot and tears smearing across them.

‘I can’t do it. I want my mum.’

She let out a long breath and sat up. He came willingly enough, falling onto her lap and heaving great sobs. The sound broke something inside her and her own tears ran hot down her cheeks, tears she hadn’t shed in all the time she’d been on the streets. Something slipped and tore free and a great weight fell away, leaving her floating despite the sobbing boy in her lap.

Interlude

Two for the price of one. And for only one rose. He hadn’t expected the change in her as well. The boy wasn’t saved, not how the Office would like, but he was away from the edge, so his job was done.

He couldn’t count it as two officially. But using her had been a master stroke and he couldn’t wait to tell Seph about it. For a week that had started so badly, he was feeling pretty good. He already knew who he was having tomorrow.

This one was tricky. He almost always felt sympathy for his subjects. There were always extraneous circumstances of some sort. No one counted love as an excuse, which was the most stupid thing he’d ever heard. If love didn’t make you do stupid things, then what did?

But tomorrow’s subject was nothing to do with love. Nothing to do with anything except greed. If he hadn’t been made of pure energy, he might have considered not bothering. If.

Next Installment Monday 30th June

Part One is here

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