Breaking East (5 page)

‘Yeah, okay,’ I said.

Sometimes it’s better to step back from a problem and then the answer will slam upside the head from nowhere. Well, it was a theory of sorts and I chose to run with it. I lingered in the shower, listened to Fran’s voice replay through my mind, hoping to justify my weak, selfish behaviour. She wanted me to do this.
Thanks for being my mate… He’s fit … you could play him … I love you.
But really, it was all about creating delays so I could avoid Joe. I was nothing but a coward.

After my shower I sat and watched Gavin working. His upper body formed a perfect triangle and his movements were smooth and easy, like he slow-danced around the tiny kitchenette in the corner of the carriage. He’d tucked a tea towel in the top of his jeans which dangled from one hip and looked sexy as hell. A tea towel. How did he do that?

‘You okay?’ he asked. ‘Nearly done.’ He took the tea towel and wiped his hands before throwing it across his shoulder.

We ate sitting opposite each other. Gavin with slow deliberation, his long fingers holding the fork, gentle but firm.

His eyes held a permanent twinkle of naughtiness. ‘Taste good?’

‘It sure does,’ I said.

Afterwards he cleared the plates.

I smirked. ‘Don’t tell me you’re even going to wash up.’

He feigned pain in his chest. ‘Your tone wounds me. Of course I’m going to clear up.’ Then he looked at me real hard. ‘You will be okay, Atty. I promise you. I’m going to make sure of it.’

‘Yeah right, course I will.’ He didn’t know the half. I fidgeted under his gaze. ‘Stop looking at me all sad.’

‘Got it.’ He turned back to the sink. ‘No looking sad. Right. I can do that.’

When he finished and sat next to me I felt the heat of his body down my arm, my thigh and it seeped through my hip, deep into my belly.
Play him
.

Joe’s love was the paternal kind - unconditional; he couldn’t help himself because it was instinctive and had nothing to do with me being me. He’d have loved me even if he didn’t like me. Maybe even if he hated me. But Gavin chose to be with me and he chose to like me. We might not be much as couples go and certainly no fairy-tale love with rainbows and fireworks, but it would be enough… for now. I wanted to be wanted, at least for a while, before I had to face the look of anger and disappointment in Joe’s eyes.

Gavin smiled. ‘Do you want to go for a walk or something?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Or there’s some kids getting together at the station. It’s one of those east meets west things the Shanks mob organise, you know, try to unite the youth of the future as one and all that slop.’

‘I just want to stay in, I think.’

He clasped his hands between his thighs and sighed. ‘Okay. Shall we do something here?’

I waited until he turned to look at me, stared right to the back of his eyes and said, ‘Yes.’

He shook his head. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t take advantage of you. You’re upset. You’ve been saying no for so long. I just wanted to help. I don’t want the first night of the rest of our lives to be …’

I stopped him saying any more by kissing him, full on. When I pulled away he followed. His rapid shallow breaths tasted like he smelt, hot and musky.

‘Oh, Atts. It’s only ever been you I want. I swear.’

Of course, when I woke the next morning all that remained of Gav was his scent on my spare pillow. So predictable. Despite my decision to go for it I’d changed my mind as his hands crept down my belly. It would’ve been at the wrong time for all the wrong reasons. He’d said he’d understood, but creeping away before dawn kind of told me different. Well, whatever, it was another night down and at least I’d had some sleep. I had much bigger worries in that the sky hadn’t dropped a miracle into my lap, and I couldn’t put off fessing up to Joe any longer. I’d lost Gemma and blown my cover, things couldn’t get any worse. Joe would never trust me again.

I stripped the bed and showered before dressing in my best gear to try and boost my confidence. I needed all I could get to keep my nerve intact. I’m not a girly-girl shape, never wore make-up and keep my hair short and spiky. It suits me; gives me a hard edge and stops people trying to get cuddly with me. A rollicking I can cope with - give it to me on my head, mate. Sympathy is a different and slippery ball to get to grips with and I’ve never quite got the hang of it. I’d give Joe attitude so he could shout louder and we’d both walk away intact. If he looked sad or disappointed, chances were I’d crumple. And crumpling was not in my plan. Before I left, I put plenty of food down for the cats and left a window open. Joe might send me up the hills to lie low somewhere. At least until he managed to find Gemma.

I took a two sleeper jog along the tracks, not feeling any great urge to rush. Whenever I got caught in sticky spots my thoughts turned to my dad. What would he think of me getting into such a mess? What would he want me to do? Stuff like that. It’s odd, his face hadn’t been too clear in my mind for a while, but I heard his voice, deep and friendly, like a warm cuddle - clear and definite, as if he was standing right next to me, advising and loving me, even giving me the occasional telling off. I missed it all. One of his favourite mantras was,
Trust your instincts, Atty. They are older and wiser than you are.
And as I trotted along the track, my instinct screamed that somebody else was trotting along behind me.

The station was where I usually got off, but I followed the track west towards the blocked off tunnel. There were no corners to duck behind and the bends were all long and meandering. Any trees lining the track were behind a high security fence. No way would I have the time to climb over any fences without getting spotted, so the tunnel was my best hope at dodging whoever followed me. I trotted inside. It was gloopy dark and goose-bumping cold. At intervals there were ledges, high up the arched walls, about head height, and I clambered onto the third one along, and lay flat. So much for dressing to impress, the dirt and grit, inches thick, coated my gear like oil. Not happy. I wriggled into position to have a clear view of the entrance. Whoever followed me wouldn’t make it past without me getting a good look. I held my breath and listened so hard I swear I heard the walls creak.

The tail stumbled to a stop and I recognised Stuart’s tall and awkward silhouette against the sunlight. He stood still and looked down the tunnel. He glanced over his shoulder and back again. His school bag, packed tight and heavy, hung over one arm, and he fiddled with the strap using both hands. He turned to walk away, changed his mind and took a step inside the tunnel, putting one hand out to hold the wall. He inched in and stopped.

I swung my legs around and jumped down. ‘What do you want, Stuart?’

‘Ah, bloody hell.’ His hand flew to his chest. ‘You scared all fifty shades out of me.’

I stepped towards him brushing my clothes down. ‘Why were you following me?’

‘I want to talk to you.’

If my life hadn’t been free-falling into such a serious shambles I might have laughed. I’d thought things couldn’t get worse, ha, talk about fouling up. Joe was going to go ballistic when he heard my target tailed me into a dead-end tunnel. But rather than collapse into manic hysterics, I got bolshie, like it was Stuart’s fault. ‘What the hell do you want with me?’

He got snappy back. ‘That guy, the Approved, with the suit and gold tooth. You spoke to him in the park the other day. Who is he?’

‘How should I know?’ I walked away, annoyed at the state of my clothes on top of everything else.

‘But you spoke to him. Him and that girl.’

‘Yeah, so?’

‘What did you talk about? Where’s he from? What’s he doing here?’ He skipped alongside me, inches away.

‘I don’t know.’ I said. ‘I wasn’t exactly interested in hearing his life story.’

‘He’s taken my little sister.’

That stopped me.

Stuart’s eyes were rimmed red and he looked scared. ‘He took her,’ he said again. ‘Do you know where to?’

‘How do you know it was him?’

Stuart took a huge breath which stuttered when he released it. He swiped at the sweat oozing on his upper lip. ‘Do you know anything about him?’ He scanned the trees.

This boy looked more than scared. He looked like he might brick himself. ‘Take it easy,’ I said. A tiny bubble of an idea popped into the back of my head. Perhaps if I got Gemma back right away, Joe need never know I’d lost her. Stuart didn’t look like a miracle and he hadn’t dropped out of the sky, but messages and strange guises, etcetera. I put my hand out to touch his arm. ‘It’s okay.’

He shook me off. ‘Who are you? Who is he? Where’s Gemma?’

‘I don’t know but I’ll help you find her, if you like.’ Joe need never know any of the crappy stuff had even happened. He needn’t know she’d ever been missing. ‘I’ll help you find her,’ I said again, warming to the idea, ‘we can bring her home.’

Stuart stood, hands on hips, looking around. ‘What makes you think you can help? You just said you didn’t know anything about him.’ He stepped away from me, shaking his head. ‘I can’t trust you.’

‘Yes you can. I don’t know him, I swear. The only reason I talked to him in the park was because he was acting all creepy towards that girl, remember? You saw him too. He’s some weirdo with an ISS Approval is all I know. We can find Gemma. Together. You and me.’

If that weirdo took Gemma, he might have taken Fran’s baby. He might even have taken that girl in the park if I hadn’t stepped in. Stuart paced about and rubbed at his face with both hands before looking at me real hard. I grinned my friendliest, helpful grin when what I really wanted to do was shake him, beg him, fall at his feet and hug his ankles.

‘That Red with the dragon on his head.’ Stuart pointed between his eyes. ‘Why were you with him and why did he stop me? I mean … you keep popping up all over the place. Why?’

‘Coincidence.’

‘Yeah right.’

‘Alright, it’s not. But believe me when I say I want to find Gemma every bit as much as you do. Let’s go somewhere and talk.’ He looked like he might be thinking about it. I kept up the pressure. ‘You choose where. Anywhere you like.’ Despite us being safely away from prying ears and any CCTV, he’d surely want to go someplace else. Somewhere neutral where he knew I didn’t have any friends around the corner waiting for the chance to jump him. It’s what I’d do. As for me, I’d pretty much go anywhere with anybody rather than go to the caff.

‘Okay. But if you’re messing with me …’

‘I’m not. Honest.’ I put up my hands like I wouldn’t dare do such a thing. But Stuart? Scary? Not ever.

He led me around the edge of West Basley to the beach. Basley beach is long and sandy and, at one time, it used to attract tourists from all over the world, but that was before the sea took on its fluorescent green tinge at the mouth of the Bast. By the time they built the toxi-plant to filter the gunk out, the cage had been put up and nobody, or at least anybody who doesn’t have to, crosses west of the Bast.

The toxi-plant did a better job some days than others. Sometimes the sea is reported to be as clear as vodka and giving off a gentle pungent scent, like salty nappies. Sometimes it’s so shiny it burns the eyes and stinks somewhere between engine oil and disinfectant. But other days, the in between days, it looks and smells pretty good. The coastline is a natural blockade on one side of West Basley, the river and cage makes up the rest, the plan being to stop the cons breaking back east.

I’d not been down to the shore for a long while and forgotten how good it felt. The sense of space - miles and miles of sand and sea with no one to hassle me – think freedom.

I needed to put Stuart at ease. So I talked. The polite chit and chat has always been a struggle for me, but I put in my best effort, smiled a lot, and tried to change the subject – relax him. ‘Apparently, before the boundary between east and west went up, this place was teeming with people from all over.’ I glanced at him to see if he was listening. Possibly. I kept going. ‘That Red gave me a lift back to the west in his van yesterday. He knew I didn’t belong over east. I think they thought I might be casing the joint.’ Stuart kicked at the sand. His teeth were clamped shut, his jaw square. His look reminded me of a cartoon superhero. I had to get him to open up. ‘That’s some house your dad’s got.’

‘Why were you over by my dad’s house?’

‘I just happened to be in the area, saw you, recognised you from the park, and thought I might say hi.’ I stopped, not wanting to dig the hole any deeper.

‘Do you know where my mother is?’

I tried to look affronted. ‘No. Why would I? Don’t you?’

‘I don’t know anything. Nobody ever tells me anything and I’m supposed to fend off the Law with their stupid under-occupancy laws and now my dad has allowed Gemma to be taken away by some odd-ball and I don’t know where or why. There’s only me left. And …’

‘If your dad sent her, signed her over …’ I trailed off thinking about Stacey. Two weeks, two kids missing, equalled too much of a coincidence.

He didn’t notice my distraction and scoffed. ‘Means nothing. He doesn’t care about anybody but himself.’

‘How do you know it was the guy with the gold tooth who took her?’

He looked at the horizon and chewed his lip. ‘Because I stole something.’

In the west, people steal stuff all the time and get away with it; it’s the violence Joe cracks down heavy on. But in the east, the material stuff is cherished and stealing is taken much more seriously. If Stuart had been on the rob, then chances were he was on the run which explained the clambering around fields and the bag of worldly goods over his shoulder.

‘Okay,’ I said trying to exude calm, ‘what? What have you stolen and where from?’

It might have been my incredible people skills but Stuart’s sweating and jittering stopped, or at least eased off. ‘A security DVD from Gemma’s school. And it shows the guy in the suit taking Gemma away. By the hand. Out the gate.’ He gestured a holding hand motion in case I didn’t quite get it.

‘And you’re sure it was definitely the same guy from the park?’

‘Definitely,’ he said. ‘And when I went back to the school, after watching the footage, he was there again talking to the teachers. And a whole bunch of Reds in their full riot gear to back him up.’

‘Because of a DVD? Bit picky, even for easty standards.’

‘That’s my point,’ he said like I was some sort of dullard just keeping up. ‘And Gemma’s got none of her stuff with her. No toys, teddies, no clothes, nothing.’ We’d reached the end of the beach and sat on the rocks at the foot of a cliff.

I didn’t want to freak him out so asked real gentle, ‘Do you think it’s anything to do with your mum?’

‘Maybe, yes,’ the same are-you-stupid tone, ‘but Gemma’s six. I’m eighteen. If they were going to try and get info out of anybody it would be me. But even I know nothing. What good is a little kid like Gemma to them?’ He started to get agitated again.

Softly, softly. ‘Right,’ I said. Let’s go hang around at the school and see if we can catch him again. Maybe we can follow him home or something.’

‘I already know where he lives.’

Wow, full of surprises. ‘Great work. Where?’

‘I’ll show you.’

The walk back through the fields was silent and tense. I tried to lighten the mood by mentioning the trees and the weather and all sorts of happy-chatter nonsense but Stuart wasn’t having any of it so I gave up.

The house Stuart showed me looked too big for its garden. There were huge windows on all three floors, each blacked out with wooden slatted blinds. Half a dozen steps led up to the shiny, black front door and the whole house looked like it might stand up and walk away any minute. Spooky.

‘Let’s come back in the morning, early,’ I said. ‘We can wait until he’s gone out and then break in. There’s bound to be some clues hanging around in there somewhere.’

‘Why would you do that?’

I shrugged and shook my head, wide-eyed innocence. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Why would you do that for me? For Gemma? Why do you care?’

Good question, Stuart. ‘Just because.’ I clapped my hands. ‘Meanwhile, fancy a drink?’

‘Don’t do that.’

‘Look. I’ve got nothing better to do.’ He didn’t look convinced. ‘Besides,’ I tried to look cute, ‘I like you.’ He looked even less convinced so I went as close to the truth as I dare. ‘That bloke is a prize nob and he’s been chatting up young girls in parks. He might have taken others, babies, maybe even a baby I know. Not to mention he tried to put the frighteners on me. I want to cause him trouble any way I can. And I’m a westy. Causing trouble for the authorities is what we do.’ Better. His face relaxed and he looked away. I asked again. ‘Drink?’