The Evil And The Pure (7 page)

“She no
t going back to school?”

“
No.”

“Not good,” Marco tutted. “Education
so important today, young people should go as far as they can. You want her to end up working for me?”

“At least I’d get free meals,” Kevin grinned.

“Don’t even believe it,” Marco snorted. “Tell her to go back. She listen to you, eh?”

“I’ll try
.” Kevin smiled guiltily. Tulip had wanted to go to college. She wasn’t a great student but she was bright and able. A-levels appealed to her, maybe uni too. Kevin had quashed her hopes over the space of a year, arguing with her softly, at great length, offering all sorts of reasons why she should quit — college was a waste of time, there was lots of quick money to be made, she could take her A’s as a mature student and enjoy them more. But never the real reason — his fear that he’d lose her if she stayed in school. His only hope of possessing her indefinitely was to keep her home, make her dependant on him, make himself the centre of her world and push everybody else out to the edges.

Tulip was alert and hungry when he came home. They t
ucked into the fish and chips, Tulip smothering hers in vinegar and ketchup even though they were bad for her skin, wolfing the fish as steam rose from its delicate white heart. Kevin ate slowly, with his fingers, breaking bits of batter off the fish and nibbling at them like sweets. Tulip licked her fingers clean when she was finished. Burped, then laughed. “So can we go see the Eye?”

Kevin sighed. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather a park?”

“Eye,” Tulip giggled, rubbing the end of his nose with a greasy finger.

“OK,” Kevin collapsed. “But a rest first – I’m exhausted – and a shower.”

“Me first,” Tulip squealed, pushing herself away from the table.

“
Be quick,” Kevin said.

She pulled a face. “
Amn’t I always?”

Tulip ducked into her bedroom to disrobe. Came out a minute later totally naked
, heavy breasts dangling over her protuberant stomach. A thick pubic mound where two years earlier there’d only been a light furze. Kevin watched her bouncing buttocks as she made her way to the bathroom to run the shower, no lust in his eyes, seeing pure beauty in every line, every curve, every mole.

Tulip looked back at him before she entered the bathroom. She squeezed her breasts together and winked lewdly. “Fancy a shag?” she said, fake husky.

“Do you have to be so crude?” Kevin scowled.

“I am what you made me, brother.”

He glanced at her sharply but she wasn’t trying to hurt him. Just the truth. Two years ago she’d been innocent, a virgin, untouched by the world. He’d taken that away from her — not her virginity, which she’d lost herself, but her innocence, her joy. Now she was a junkie and something worse than a whore. And it was all his work.

Kevin disrobed while she was showering. He waited close to the bathroom door, as naked as she had been. This was an established routine of theirs, a test devised by Tulip
, her single hope of one day being offered an escape from the nightmare of his creation. As she came out, hair wrapped in a towel, she glanced down at his penis — soft, lifeless, harmless.

Tulip sighed. She accepted Kevin’s excitement during their appointments, but if he’d
shown any here, in what she termed normal time, he was sure she would have walked away. But limp as he was, she had nothing to complain about. They were, on the surface, just a brother and sister, at ease around one another, even in the nude. Nothing more sinister to it than that. On the surface.

T
hey finished drying at the same time and pulled on fresh clothes. Tulip wore a short skirt and revealing top, carrying a sweatshirt in case the evening grew cool. He wore jeans and a light jumper. They set off arm in arm for the London Eye, clean, fresh, rosy, to all appearances a happy man and his happy young sister, their secrets, sorrows and strange practices hidden in a safe, shady place where they could for a while be ignored.

To the top of Long Lane, left on to Bermondsey Street, a short walk, crossing Tooley Street and through the Hays Galleria, circling the giant mechanical fish in the open centre of the complex. Left when they hit the Thames, strolling along the Southbank, detouring away from it only when the path demanded it of them. They passed pubs, tourists sitting overlooking the river, soft laughter, couples making out, boats drifting by. A perfect night.

Past the Globe. Kevin kept meaning to take Tulip there – history, the magic of Shakespeare, transportation to the past – but they hadn’t made it yet. Perhaps next year, when summer rolled round again. He could take
a day off work, they’d walk here together, maybe stand in the pit with the unwashed masses.

Past the London Weekend Television studios, the National Fi
lm Theatre, Royal Festival Hall, Jubilee Gardens, and at last the London Eye. Crowds queueing up, despite the month, despite the hour, despite the clouds creeping across the sky and casting the city into gloom. Always queues for the Eye, but they were processed quickly and unless you were dumb enough to come during the peak hours in the middle of summer on sky-blue days, you usually didn’t have to wait too long.

Kevin and Tulip walked past the Eye, cut through a line of customers scurrying to get on, past the
impressive buildings of County Hall, up to Westminster Bridge, where they viewed the Eye in silence, shining, majestic, beautiful, dwarfing and eclipsing the traditional tourist draws of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. Back through the crowds, stopping to buy hot, chocolate-coated peanuts and a bottle of lime juice. Kevin looked for a bench but Tulip preferred the grass of Jubilee Gardens, so they found a clean spot and sat, Kevin making Tulip lay her sweatshirt underneath, mindful of the damp. Kevin reclined, a hand over his eyes, breathing in the scent of the grass, the buzz of the crowd a soothing background noise. Tulip sat to attention, scrutinising the tourists, trying to guess where they were from, how far they’d travelled, what exciting and taxing adventures they’d endured along the way, creating stories inside her head.

A child lost its helium balloon and turned on the
tears until an exasperated parent went looking for a replacement. An elderly couple hobbled off the Eye, awed, speechless, vanishing swiftly in the crush of the crowd. A woman argued with her boyfriend, threw her bag at him, stormed off, boyfriend following meekly, clutching the bag, trying to apologise. A clash of punks sauntered by, hair spiked and coloured, jeans and leathers carefully ripped, studs, chains, pierced all over, looking adorable and cuddly despite their apparent viciousness. Two PCs, male and female, smiling, confident, helpful, handsome — like the punks, there to play up to the tourists.

Kevin lost track of time. The sky darkened, the air chilled, the crowds thinned, but he and Tulip remained. Kevin felt totally calm, like he could lie here forever, or at least until morning, silent, thoughtful, at one with the world. The peace disrupt
ed by the screech of his mobile, the theme from
Raiders of the Lost Ark
. Tulip went stiff the instant she heard it, knowing it wasn’t personal, anticipating the end of the pleasant evening. Kevin fumbled the phone from his pocket, checked the incoming number, thought about not answering, then thought about the money. “Hello?” A short conversation. He hit disconnect and looked at Tulip sheepishly. She stared back expressionlessly.

“We have an appointment. We have to leave now.”

Tulip nodded. Stood and brushed her skirt with a hand. “Who is it?”

“Phials. I can tell him we’re busy if –”

“We have to go back to the flat,” she said in monotone, knowing he didn’t mean it about putting Phials off. If she said she didn’t want to go, he’d nag at her until she caved in and agreed to the visit. She’d learnt to avoid the dramatics — they didn’t wash with her brother. “I’ll need my uniform. Lubricant and condoms. Some coke to get me in the mood.”

Kevin flinched and
stood. Reached for her hand. She brushed him away and set off. He looked at the Eye, shining like a skewed UFO, the elongated shadows of its passengers indistinguishable from Greys. Turned and hurried after Tulip, ashamed but excited, penis hardening, mouth dry, fantasizing about the night to come.

No rush. Tulip sat in her bedroom, the room she’d slept in before Kevin installed her in his own bed, preparing herself for the appointment, applying light layers of make-up, not interested in looking beautiful, just presentable. Kevin hovered, drifting around the flat like a ghost, nervous, stomach tight, breathing thinly. The wait was always a joy and a strain, the best and worst part of the experience. Anticipation was sweet but guilt soured it, and fear that things could go wrong — these were dangerous people, dealers, thieves, killers. Phials was harmless but Fast Eddie Price and the others were cold-blooded thugs. They could kill Kevin, keep Tulip as their slave. A gamble the pair took each time they ventured forth on an appointment. Part of the thrill. Kevin wouldn’t have it any other way.

He checked his watch, checked with Tulip – a cool “I’m ready when you are” – then rang for a cab, one of four local firms he split their
custom between. They always took a cab when working, but never the same firm twice in a row. Tulip emerged wearing her green school uniform, tight in places but still a comfortable fit. Phials had a thing for the uniform. Kevin never admitted it, but he did too. He would have liked Tulip to wear it to more of their appointments, but he never openly influenced her choice — one of the rules they operated by.

Tulip rooted her old
plimsolls out of the cupboard where their shoes were kept. Sat on the chair by the phone to pull them on. Kevin saw between her legs as she raised her left foot to tie the laces — no underwear. That excited him. He turned his gaze away quickly in case she noticed. Deep breaths, thinking about work, Dan Bowen, his schedule for the rest of the week, willing himself soft.

“How do
I look?” Tulip asked, standing and twirling.

“Fine,” he grunted, feigning disinterest. “You have everything?”

Tulip shook a leather handbag at him. It was a present from Phials. “All here, except for the coke. Will you get that from Clint?”

“I have some from last time.”

The phone rang — the cab was downstairs. Kevin hurried to the door. Tulip didn’t follow. She stood staring at him, faint hope in her light brown eyes. “We don’t have to do this,” she whispered. “You could cancel. We could go away. You could get help.”

Not a standard spiel, but not new either. She’d tried it before. She
would try it again. Her plea tore at his heart but he ignored it. His urges were stronger than his shame. “We’ll go shopping on Saturday,” he said. “Oxford Street. Buy you something nice.”

“That’s no compensation for letting Tony Phials fuck me,” Tulip said, the
swear word almost as hard for her to say as it was for Kevin to hear. “Thinking of a new dress or shoes won’t make me feel any better when I’m on my knees sucking his cock.”

Kevin stared at his sister,
appalled, trembling, on the verge of tears. He almost capitulated. Almost ran to her, clutched her, begged her forgiveness, promised her freedom. But he’d
almost
spared her many times in the past.
Almost
was as far as he ever got. The lust was absolute — the
almost
always fleeting.

In a shaky, shamed voice he croaked,
“Let’s go.”

Tulip’s eyes
went bleak, detached, dead. “I have to pray first.” She turned her back to him, knelt, pressed her hands together, muttered words of remorse and hope to the God she still childishly believed in. Kevin stood by the door, wretched, helpless. He wished he had a god
he
could pray to for strength, understanding and forgiveness, but there was no god in Kevin Tyne’s life, except perhaps the god of warped, twisted lust.

The cab dropped them on the Walworth Road and they walked the last hundred metres or so to the lab. The outer sliding door was unlocked. Once they were sheltered from any prying eyes, Kevin gave her the coke. She preferred this to the heroin. It was how he’d started her off. A few friendly snorts to begin with, a big brother letting his sister have some fun, no harm intended, everybody did it.

Tulip sprinkled the coke over the back of her left hand. Snorted deeeeeeep. The other nostril. The lazy smile that Kevin had come to know so well. She wiped her nose clean and nodded at him.

Kevin pressed the button and the inner door opened shortly, Fast Eddie Price standing inside, impassive. Kevin and Tulip entered. Fast Eddie searched them then led them through the lab to Phials’ room. Kevin wasn’t sure what they manufactured here. He rarely asked questions. Didn’t want to get involved.

Fast Eddie knocked on the door of Phials’ room. An excited squeal from within. Clint Smith opened the door, thin, nervous, dark hair,
shifty eyes. Clint was their go between, their connection to Phials and a few others. He’d been Kevin’s dealer to begin with. Now he was much more.

Clint
greeted them and they responded neutrally. Kevin’s heart beat fast as Phials met Tulip in the middle of the room – “Angel!” was all he heard the chemist exclaim – and he struggled to control it, to hear, to function.