No Alarms (6 page)

‘Tomorrow night. Our place ten o’clock. You in?’

‘Sure’ was almost out of her mouth when she remembered, and the memory was like a spike, punching through her excitement.

‘Well?’ he asked.

‘There’s something else you have to tell me first,’ Sharon said.

‘What?’

‘A few weeks ago, down at the park, in the morning. I saw Simon. He was there. He was watching me. How come?’

‘I don’t know. He wanders about all the time. Did he say anything?’

But there had been a hesitation, just a half second, before he answered. Another warning.

‘No.’

‘Just a coincidence then.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Definitely. Here, are you in?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Sharon answered, pissed off that it could be this complicated.

‘Fair enough. Here’s the thing then.’ Justin stood up and Sharon was left sitting beneath him, feeling like some naughty little child having it explained to them why they were about to get a good hiding.

‘You’re either there tomorrow at ten or you’re not. If you are, you’re in. If not there’s never any chance that you will be. Oh, and I have to tell you this, if anyone else ever hears even a single word, we’re both fucked.’

He flicked his cigarette butt against the wall and turned and walked away, like he was twice as hard as he’d ever be. Not like Justin at all. Sharon watched him walk off and tried to work out how, only ten minutes earlier, she’d thought about wanting him. But she knew she’d have to go tomorrow night. He knew it too.

‘Sharon! That boy’s here!’

It was Zinny who brought the news, racing it down the hallway and tripping over his half-off socks as he reached Sharon’s room.

‘What boy?’ Sharon snapped. She didn’t need a visitor right now. What she needed was Kaz to get back on time for once, like she’d promised she would, that and some new clothes. Clothes that would look right on your first job, that wouldn’t look too young, like all the stuff she’d spread out over her bed suddenly looked.

‘Zinny, what boy?’ Sharon repeated.

‘What are you doing?’ Zinny asked, his eyes even wider than usual and his bottom lip dropping. ‘Are you going away?’

‘Eh?’ Sharon scooped him up in her arms and held him tight, too tight to be real. ‘Course not matey. Just sorting out some old clothes. You can have some if you like, for dress up. You know I’d never leave you here.’

‘Ah hi.’ Sharon turned to the new voice. Mark, hovering uncertainly just past Zinny’s head. Typical, that he’d walk in on her like this. Fucken typical. Sharon put Zinny back down.

‘Him,’ her little brother said, pointing. ‘The funny one.’

‘Yeah, got it,’ Sharon said. ‘Here, you go and play in the kitchen. Kaz’ll be home soon.’ Then to Mark, when Zinny had hurried off.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

‘I brought your assignment,’ Mark mumbled.

‘It’s not a good time,’ Sharon said, squaring off as if she was protecting the room from him. ‘Give it here. I’ll read it later.’

In a way she’d lost interest anyway. They’d only had English once since and it had just been normal, reading crap and pretending to answer questions from some old photocopied worksheet. Trish had gone back to being Ms Black. Friendlier than most teachers, and not so uptight, but still a teacher.

‘Um.’ Mark produced an envelope from his jacket pocket but didn’t hand it over.

‘Give it here. I’m in a hurry.’

But his hands only tightened around it.

‘We need to talk about it I think. To check it’s alright.’

‘Did you put what I said in?’

Mark nodded.

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. You’ve done your job then. Now piss off.’

Sharon snatched the envelope and stared at Mark, daring him to say anything more. He didn’t. Not with words anyway. His face said something though, something Sharon couldn’t quite read. Just before he turned away, she was sure she saw a tear forming.

Sharon took out the list and sat back on her bed. It would pass the time, stop her thinking how much she’d hate Kaz if she was back so late it ruined things with Justin. Mark had done the whole thing on computer so it looked like something official, like one of those letters of complaint the school was always sending. The swear words looked out of place, all typed up like that, wearing their Sunday Bests. Not too bad though, Sharon had to admit. It was close to the way she wanted to sound.

THINGS I HATE

I hate feeling stupid.

I hate the guys Kaz brings home.

I hate the girls at school who get pregnant and leave and then come back later to show off their babies, like they’ve done something clever. Shit, I could do that. Anyone could do that. It’s not like it’s hard, finding some loser to screw you.

I hate everyone who thinks they’re better than me.

I hate rules.

I hate running out of cigarettes.

I hate those guys who never look you in the eye, like they think you’re the biggest piece of trash they can imagine. But then other times, when they don’t think you’re watching, they’ll be letting their eyes wander all over you, trying to get a look up your skirt if they can, like them hating you doesn’t matter at all.

I
hate teachers.

I hate people who think you’re stupid just because you don’t like school, like there aren’t any other choices.

I hate waiting.

I hate people who aren’t straight with their friends.

I hate people who think they’ve got special rights, just cos they’re older than you, even though most of what they say is crap, cos they’ve spent all their lives being stupid.

I hate people dissing Kaz. She’s okay.

I hate posers.

I hate people who use words to tangle you up, so you have to cut your way out.

I hate people who give in.

Sharon read over the list twice, trying to work out the feelings it gave her. Feeling shamed, that she’d ever thought about putting stuff like that down on paper, where it didn’t belong. Feeling small, when she thought what Trish would think if she read it. Feeling excited too, because second time through it didn’t sound too bad. Trouble was it wasn’t like just saying stuff, where you could take it back or cover up and try to change the topic. She put it on top of her drawer and made a deal with herself. If tonight went okay, if she managed to impress Simon, then it was a sign. A sign she was meant to hand it in.

Kaz was late back, no surprises there, bursting in on a cloud of cigarette smoke and obscenities.

‘Had to wait half a fucken hour in the fucken rain didn’t I,
cos none of those bastard taxi drivers will come out here after dark, lazy mothers. Then Sandy offers me a ride with Lance only he’s half pissed and has to drive round the back of the fucken valley doesn’t he?’

Worst thing was it was all probably true, because there was always something getting in the way of the life Kaz tried to pretend she was leading. Even though it was the sort of stuff anyone else’d see coming, the way Kaz saw it nothing had to be her fault exactly.

‘Anyway,’ Kaz had finished drying her hair off on Zinny’s pyjamas, that Sharon had left out in front of the heater, so they’d be warm for him. ‘What are you getting so uptight about?’

‘He pisses in those you know.’

‘I washed them yesterday.’

‘You said eight thirty.’

‘Told you, it wasn’t my fault. Here, make me a coffee will you?’

‘Can’t,’ Sharon said. ‘I’m going out.’

‘It’s almost ten o’clock on a Tuesday night.’

Sometimes, when she wasn’t trying too hard, Kaz could almost sound like a mother. ‘Where you going then?’

‘Just out.’

‘Not with that geek you brought home the other day I hope. I didn’t like the look of him.’ Kaz undid the button of her stressed trousers and spread out on the kitchen chair. ‘Go on kid, make us a coffee before you go. I’m fucked.’

‘Sorry, I’ve got to go.’

‘It won’t take long, less time than we’ll spend arguing about it anyway.’

Kaz could twist any argument, if it meant getting what she
wanted. Sharon shrugged and walked to the sink. ‘Cheers. Here, while it’s boiling take Zinny into bed will you? Don’t worry about changing him.’

So Sharon had to run the whole way, to stop from being late for her first real job. It was still raining and she could feel her jeans getting heavier with every stride. Later, when she stopped, they’d smell of all that trapped-in effort, and her hair would collapse, making her head look too small, and she’d feel even more useless.

‘Hi,’ Sharon spoke nervously, wishing it wasn’t Simon who’d answered the door. He was wearing his black wharfies’ jacket, the one from the park, and the same hard stare, daring her to notice. He didn’t say hi back, or even nod, just stood there being big, making the door look like it had shrunk around him. When he moved aside it wasn’t by much, just enough for her to squeeze past, so she could smell the smoke on his breath as her body moved round him.

‘You made it.’ Justin looked nervous, not standing still but pacing from one end of the kitchen to the other, like he was counting out laps.

‘Course,’ Sharon replied, one last word before the silence. At first Sharon tried to be invisible, anything but ‘that little girl I knew’d only get in the way’ but the quiet lasted too long. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up, like it knew something she didn’t. She was glad of the knife she had in her back pocket.

‘Well, outta here then,’ Simon announced, not letting his stare shift from his little brother. What did he expect might happen, Sharon wondered, if he looked away. It was another danger sign she couldn’t quite read. Simon finally let his eyes drop. He picked up a dark sports bag and ducked his head as
he headed out into the night.

‘After you then,’ Justin said when she looked at him, hoping for more of a signal. Simon was already half way down the street, swaying from side to side like a ship fighting a heavy swell, the rain catching in the street lights as he made his passage.

‘Here, make sure you keep up,’ Justin whispered, suddenly at her side. ‘He gets pissed off if he has to wait.’

‘So where are we going then?’ Sharon asked.

‘Questions piss him off too,’ Justin replied, before breaking into a half run to make up the lost distance. Sharon ran too, the heavy wet denim scratching at her legs like a warning.

They walked hard for twenty minutes, across the tracks and back towards the hill, where the cars disappeared into garages, and the houses had prices to match the views. They kept their heads down, trying not to attract attention, but still Sharon could feel eyes on her as cars sloshed past. She imagined the people who would live behind the tightly drawn curtains, high set windows glowing faintly above thick, unfriendly hedges. People like Mark, splitting their time between computers and homework, feeling safer than anybody ought to feel. Sharon couldn’t figure what the job would be. Good place for a burglary. She could do that, no worries, but Justin had told her they only pulled break-ins during the day.

Simon stopped at a narrow footbridge. A small stream ran darkly beneath it, protected from the streetlights by thick willows on either side. Across the bridge the path ended in neatly mown properties that extended right down to the water. Simon leant against the railing and lit a cigarette, staring at Sharon like he was expecting her to do something stupid.

‘Property’s over there,’ he muttered, nodding to the right.
‘Second along. You stay here.’ You, because he’d never be bothered learning her name. ‘All you got to do is make sure no one comes over the bridge. Got it?’

Sharon nodded. Yeah, she got it, sort of. What, but not how. How were you meant to do that, if someone came along and they wanted through? But she knew she couldn’t ask. That was the whole point. The test they were giving her. So she stared straight back at them, like it was the easiest thing in the world, and hoped no one would come past.

‘Right then.’ Simon turned to Justin. ‘You got that lighter?’

Justin nodded and they moved off, like that was all the explanation he needed. Like they did this every night, or Simon had already told him what was happening. Sharon watched their two dark figures run crouched along the other side of the stream, melting into the shadows of carefully arranged lawns, so you wouldn’t know they were there. Not unless you were straining your eyes, trying not to lose them.

Then they were gone and Sharon was left with nothing to watch but the rain. Not proper wetting rain, the sort that would keep people indoors, well away from the bridge. Light misty rain that hesitated in the streetlights and fell so lightly on your face it felt like sweat. Sharon looked at her watch. She wondered how long it would take, whatever it was they were doing. Maybe until she got sick of waiting. She knew it had to be a chance, that they were sitting somewhere drier now, watching her. Just so they could see what she’d do, when someone came along. It didn’t matter though, if that was what it took to be a part of it. There were worse things they could have asked.

It would be a dog. An old guy with a big dozy looking thing, across the road, coming out of the mist. Just the sort of dog
they’d have, in their houses out on the other side. Just the sort of reason you’d need, to be out on a night like this. Once round the block in your big grey coat, so the animal would get a chance to shit, well away from the grounds the gardener had worked so hard on. They were too, coming straight at her. The guy looked up, his eyes checking her out, to see whether it was worth wasting a smile. Sharon avoided looking back, just shifted out so she was blocking the whole bridge, hoping that would be enough to send him around the long way. He didn’t have the sort of face that looked used to making detours. Too straight on his shoulders, no sign he was even thinking of backing down.

‘Excuse me.’

Said nice and loud. Not as old as she’d first thought either, now she could see him close up. Sharon didn’t move.

‘We just need past.’

‘Sorry, bridge is closed,’ Sharon replied, getting just enough ‘fuck you’ into her voice to make him hesitate.