Falloir (Passion Noire Book 2) (37 page)

She still has her back to me. I debate taking my chair around to the other side of the bed but I resist, knowing that I can’t push her too far. If I do that, she might rebel and push me away. I can’t take that risk. I need to get through to her. I need her onside.

‘Did the lady tell you that I didn’t know they were going? They ... they didn’t even leave a note, telling me they’d gone. My mum just ... left. A neighbour told me, assuming that I’d forgotten and had walked home from school as usual and not gone wherever it was that they'd gone. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could she. I tried to call my mum but it wouldn’t connect. I thought it was my phone so the neighbour let me use her phone. My mum answered but, as soon as she realised it was me, she called me a slut and hung up. I redialled but she wouldn’t answer. I still don’t know where she’s staying. I ... I ...’

‘Yes?’ I whisper.

She rolls on to her back, staring at the ceiling. She seems to be deciding whether to continue talking to me. Abruptly, through heaving sobs that make my heart ache, she whispers, ‘I don’t know how my own mother could do this to me.’ Her shoulders start to shake as she covers her face with her hands. ‘They called her when I got brought in here. She told them she didn’t have a daughter. Can you believe that? I’ve got nobody. Nothing. My own mother doesn’t want me ... I wish I was dead.’

I open my mouth to challenge her but an image of Dan with his fingers held up to his lips to silence me floats down on the far side of the bed. I blink at the unexpected apparition. I couldn’t speak now if I tried. He nods his approval as he hovers there on those beautiful black wings. He smiles and holds his arms open as if to embrace me. I’m struck again by how peaceful he seems but it’s followed by an almost overwhelming feeling of despair. He should have found that peace when he was here. I should have made sure he—

He swoops down and forcefully shakes his head, cutting off that all too familiar train of thought. He’s so close to me now. I hold out my arms, needing to touch him. I attempt to wrap my arms around him, but the image of him fades until my arms are back by my sides. He smiles then jerks his head in Milly’s direction and, before I can think about what I’m doing, never mind the repercussions, I get to my feet and lean over the bed, holding my arms open as Dan had done.

Milly drops her hands and looks at me suspiciously, as well she should—I’m a stranger after all. I begin to feel a fool from her casual rejection but then, as I’m about to sit back down, she scrabbles to her knees and throws her arms around my neck as her burden releases itself through a torrent of tears. I hold her tightly, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back my own tears of empathy. She clings to me and the depths of her despair are almost tangible as she unleashes the overwhelming fear and hopelessness that she’s been fighting. Just as I can feel her hot tears, the regular cool wash of air on my face tells me Dan is still there.

‘I can’t go back to that place,’ she whispers eventually. ‘I can’t do this. Please help me. If you don’t ...’

‘I will,’ I tell her. ‘You can come and stay with me until we figure something out. However long that takes, you can stay with me. It will have to be on a camp bed or the sofa but you’ll have a roof over your head and you’ll be warm, fed and safe.

She hugs me tighter, this waif of a child who’s a stranger to me and yet, I feel responsible for her welfare. My lip curls as I think about her heartless mother. And that bastard of a stepfather. I know that relationship is going to fall apart. Who will Milly’s mum have then? Will she be alone and lost as Milly is now? I bloody hope so.

She tells me to lie next to her on the bed and she snuggles in my arms like a five-year-old and falls into a seemingly peaceful sleep. I realise that Dan’s nowhere to be seen or felt but I couldn’t say when he’d left. I grip the pendant at my neck and ask him to watch over The Kid while I’m here.

I stay with her until she’s had a shower and breakfast, persuading her to be open and honest during her psych assessment. She’s mercifully given the all clear in relation to organ damage and is unwired from the machines. But for the compassion and quick thinking of that passer-by ... I shudder—it doesn’t bear thinking about. I leave her side when the duty psych comes to do her assessment but I make it plain that she’s my client and that I’ll be looking after her. I’ve instructed Milly not to tell them she’s coming to stay with me. It would be frowned upon and could jeopardise my work with the department if they feel I’m overstepping a line. We’ve concocted a tale that I’ve pulled strings to get her a place in a shelter. Milly will be deliberately vague about the details but, to be honest, once the psych has done their assessment and found that she doesn’t need sectioning, all that will happen is a letter to her GP for a follow up, whenever they have time.

It’s not good enough. Yes, I’m a maverick. I’m an anarchist. Yet, for the sake of these kids, I have to play it safe and tread through a minefield of political and legal crap. It winds me up no end, but nothing is more important than saving these kids. Nothing.

It’s nearing midday and Milly is asleep in my bed. What else could I do? I can’t risk another loss. I just can’t. I will find her somewhere to stay very soon, not least because The Kid won’t come out of his room. He’s so overwhelmed with embarrassment and shyness, although he hasn’t laid eyes on her yet. That could get worse—Milly’s a pretty little thing and he’s not immune. I’ve seen him ogling girls from a distance when he’s in the garden outside.

I think they need a careful introduction. Milly seemed so overawed, so scared and so grateful when she walked through the door. After she’d taken a shower and eaten a sandwich, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Neither could I. If I hadn’t given her my bed, I wouldn’t have slept and I was falling asleep on my feet. At least I know she’s safe, while I attempt to grab a couple of hours’ kip. Thanks to Gabe’s selfish tantrum, I’ve had to cover a load of his shifts and deal with the admin of Vouloir. He’d better come to his senses soon or I’ll be forced to replace him.

I’m lying on the sofa. I’m running on empty, feeling as weak as a kitten. Sleep hasn’t come easily since Jones has been gone—when everything goes quiet and my brain attempts to shut down for the day, I find it can’t. That’s when I start to wonder where he is. Whether he’s safe. When he’s coming home. The realisation that I’m missing him knocks me sideways. I’ve kind of got used to having him around. The place seems too quiet and too empty without him. I’ve never noticed how bare and sterile the living room is, not having pictures on the walls. It didn’t seem that way before there was a six-foot-something, inked, alpha male in residence but it sure does now. I’d rather look at his body than any other work of art.

I’m using The Kid’s trick and playing music quietly using Spotify on my phone as I try to shut my mind down in readiness for sleep. I’ve clicked on a mellow playlist and my attention is caught by a gorgeous deep voice accompanied by a piano. It’s so chilled and soothing until I hear mention of not sleeping. I tune in to the lyrics as the texture of the music thickens and I’m blown away. If someone had taken my feelings and shaped them into lyrics, this would be it. I pick up my phone as the track ends. Firstly, I need to hear it again but I also need to know what the track is. It’s
Flight
by Lifehouse I notice as I put it on repeat. I’ve taken off the necklace that The Kid bought me but I hold it in my hand as I listen to those hopeful lyrics towards the end of the track.

They resonate reassuringly and I begin to drift off to sleep, knowing that I am breaking through and, with Jones by my side, I can empty my little boxes and be free from my past. Together as one family, we can exorcise Jones’ demons too. And The Kid’s. I haven’t told him yet about my revelation yet. I’m waiting to speak with Jones first. Damn MI6, don’t they know that some things are more important than national security?

MY BLADDER’S BURNING. I need a piss but I don’t want to go out there. Veuve has brought a girl home to stay here. What if she looks at me? What if she wants to talk to me? I don’t want her here. What if she finds out about me? About what’s been done to me? I’m a freak. I know that. Nobody else needs to.

I creep into the bathroom and shut the door. Phew! As I take a piss, I can’t help but wonder what she looks like. Veuve didn’t say anything. Will she be cute? What if she thinks I’m cute like that girl at the pub? What if she wants to talk to me? How can I get rid of her?

I don’t know why but I find myself quietly sneaking along to Veuve’s room to have a look—something I never do. I know that Veuve was going to crash on the sofa for a bit because that girl was going to sleep in her bed. The door’s not shut but it nearly is. I close one eye and line up the other one so I can see inside. It’s not very bright but there’s a lamp on over on Veuve’s desk thing where she keeps all her make-up.

The girl’s sitting brushing her hair. It looks brown but, when the brush picks it up and the light shines on it, it looks gold. I squeeze my eye shut a bit, trying to see what she looks like in the mirror but it’s too dark to tell. She just has a towel wrapped around her and I can see she’s very different from Veuve. Veuve is big. This girl is small.

Veuve says she has nobody. A bit like me. Well, I have Jones. My mum’s brother. My uncle. But he’s not been here for days. Veuve says he’s working. I hope he comes back soon. I want to go back to the pub with him. I liked the lager and being with him makes me feel more grown up. More normal. Oh, I know I’m not but I can pretend when I’m with Jones because he doesn’t feel sorry for me. Maybe that’s because he’s family. Having family is good.

But this girl—Milly—what kind of a name is that? Better than being called The Kid, I suppose. This Milly has no family. She must be lonely. But Veuve is mine. She’s like my family. I don’t want to share her with this girl. And what happens when Jones comes back and finds my sister? There’ll be no room for her if this girl stays here. There’s not enough room as it is.

Oh. I realise that she’s standing up and that she’s ... oh my God ... she’s taking the towel off. I turn around quickly but knock the door with my arm. It makes a funny squeaky noise and I stand really still, hoping that she hasn’t noticed. I don’t know what to do.

Before I can do anything, she pulls the door open and stares at me. She’s angry. She probably thinks that ... oh no! She can’t think that. I wasn’t going to watch!

‘I came to say hello but thought you might be asleep and so I tried to check but I saw you and it looked like you were going to take your towel off so I was going to go and come back later but my arm hit the door when I turned around and I panicked in case you thought I was watching you like a creep ... I’m not a creep or a pervert honestly.’

Her eyes get really big and I have to take a massive breath when I finish. I think she’s going to be angry but she smiles and holds out her hand, saying ‘I’m Milly. You’re The Kid?’ and I want to die.
The Kid.
The towel is properly around her, thank God ... or not, because she’s gorgeous. Really gorgeous. So pretty. I’ve seen people shaking hands on the TV so I grab hers and shake it. She pulls her hand away, looking surprised.