The One Safe Place (49 page)

"I told you what to do before I went out. You're worse than useless, you. I should have got rid of you before you were born."

"Wish you fucking had."

She shoved herself backward, her gaze drifting away from him. "You had your chance to fix what you did," she muttered. "Now I'll get someone who'll do what needs doing."

That was fine with Darren. He'd had more than enough of Marshall. He was beginning to regret having lured him home, since he'd received no credit for it. Maybe his father would have admired him for it, but his father didn't want to see him. That felt like a good reason not to care what happened to Marshall, and Darren shut himself in his room and grabbed a track suit from the pile on the floor of the wardrobe. He was poking his feet through the legs of the trousers when his mother screamed at him again. "What have you been playing at? You get down here or I'll throw you down."

He stayed sitting on the edge of the bed until he'd brought his head out of the tunnel of the track suit top. He wormed his fists through the sleeves as he strolled to the door. As he emerged onto the landing, his mother pointed the revolver at him. "What's this, you mong? Your da told you never to play with it. That's right, you flinch if you know what's good for you."

Darren's shoulders thumped the wall before he sent himself forward to dare her. "You're fucking mad, you. You want locking up. Go on then, shoot. See if I care."

He wasn't going to be the first to look away. He stared at her and pulled up the track suit top to expose the target of his ribs. He was about to stick his tongue out when Marshall appeared in the doorway of the front room and gazed anxiously at both of them. "Don't hurt him. It was my idea. We were only playing because I couldn't sleep."

Darren's mother gaped at him, then she shook the gun at Darren with the same expression on her face. "Get here now. I want to talk to you. Get in the back."

Marshall stretched out his hands toward the gun. "You won't hurt him, will you?"

"That's up to him and you. You get in there and shut it. Shut it tight. Now."

Marshall obeyed, which was more than enough of a reason for Darren to plod deliberately downstairs, showing his mother he wasn't scared of her. He could see what she was planning to do when he came within reach, and ducked so that the gun barrel missed his head, though he felt the wind of it on his scalp. He dodged into the back room and stood behind a chair in case she had another swing at him, but she wrenched up the floorboard to drop the gun and the bullets on top of the money. She stamped the board down and dragged the carpet over it, then stared at Darren, disgust twisting her lips. "What else have you been up to with him?"

"Not much. He's boring, him."

"God, you're such a liar. I don't know where you get it from. You think I couldn't see the way he was looking at you?"

"He wasn't looking like much I could see. You're seeing things, just like him."

"You can't fool me and don't you think it. I'm your mam." Her mouth twisted again. "He was looking at you like he was in love with you. I'd not have been surprised to find the both of you in bed together."

"Don't you fucking say that to anyone about me. I'd have ripped his balls off if he even touched me, him or anyone else. He thinks I'm his mate, that's all, and you're a nurse." When the shape of her mouth didn't relent he stood it for a few seconds, then he yelled, "What?"

"If he's not your little friend why haven't you got rid of him?"

"I tried, mam. I had him putting the gun in his gob, only it never went off."

"You'd have got his head splashed all over my front room for the police to find, would you? God, I wish your da was here. He'd sort you out and no mistake."

"The filth don't know the little shit's here, mam. Nobody but us does."

"And don't you think they'll come looking for him? Don't you think they might come up with our name after everything him and his family done to us?"

"Better get him moved before they find him here, then."

Her mouth reformed itself, but only into a sneer. "And you still want me to think he means nowt to you."

"He doesn't, either. You just said you didn't want them finding he'd been here."

"So what are you going to do to stop that?"

Had she forgotten she was supposed to be getting someone to deal with Marshall, or was she playing with Darren to see what he would say? "I could stick him on a bus going right out of town," Darren said.

"And do what with him when you get him there?"

"I could take him on the moors where there's nobody about."

"You would too, wouldn't you? There's a bit of your da in you right enough." She tramped across the room to stare more closely at him. "Can I trust you? I can do without getting Barry or Bernard to him. I don't want them knowing he was ever in the house."

She wanted to trust him both to do it and not to tell, and not to make her aware of what they were really talking about either. He said what they always said in films. "You'll have to then, won't you?"

Reaching across the chair, she grabbed his left cheek between finger and thumb and twisted hard. "Don't you bring any more trouble into this house. I've more to put up with already than any woman should."

Darren dug his fingernails into the sides of the chair and met her eyes without blinking. He wasn't going to let her see how much she was hurting him, he was saving it up until he could pass it on to someone else. When at last she let go he clenched his fists so as not to rub his cheek as he shoved past her in his eagerness to get to Marshall. He'd only just reached the hall when Marshall inched open the door of the front room. "What happened to your face?"

"Nowt I know of. You're seeing things still, lad."

"If you say so, Darren." Marshall sounded both relieved for him and nervous for himself. "Your mom didn't hurt you, then. She knows we're only playing."

"Aye, and now we've stopped."

Marshall peered at his wristwatch. "Doesn't this say after nine o'clock? It's on your English time, isn't it? I thought my mom would have been here for me by now."

Darren had wondered if he might be able to grasp what was real by now, but that wouldn't be for some time, if ever. "You get back where you was and I'll find out what's happening," Darren said.

He was making for the front door as Marshall retreated into the room when Darren's mother flounced into the hall. "Where do you think you're sloping off by yourself?"

Darren stepped in front of Marshall, blocking his view. "I'm going to phone his mom," he said with a grimace to tell her what he meant. "Maybe she can't come and get him like she said last time I phoned."

"You won't be long, will you, Darren?"

Darren's mother looked as if she was about to twist his cheek again for having let Marshall know his name. "You bet he won't be."

"I don't want to be any trouble, Mrs...."

"Nurse."

"I hope I'm not being too much trouble, Mrs. Nurse."

She glowered at him until she saw in his eyes that he was genuinely not joking. "You won't be. Just stay where he told you," she said, and watched him shut himself in. "If you know what you're up to, get on with it," she muttered, and glared at Darren as he let himself out of the house.

She might have hurt him worse if Marshall hadn't been there. He didn't want to feel grateful, particularly not to anyone so stupid, but he seemed in danger of feeling that way if he didn't watch himself. Perhaps he would get rid of the feeling once he got rid of Marshall. He needn't decide what to do until he'd taken Marshall where nobody would see them. If he could be certain that Marshall didn't know where he'd been, maybe Darren would only have to leave him somewhere he could never find his way back from. He walked around the block, spitting over the garden fences. As he returned to his gate, a black motorcycle ridden by a figure with a black globe for a head cruised past. He spat after the motorcyclist and dragged the gate and its hem of litter over the concrete, and aimed his key like a knife as he stalked toward the house.

The door beside him wavered open as he kicked the front door shut behind him. "Was she there? Did you get her?" Marshall said through the gap.

"She's there all right. Trouble with her car, though, eh?"

"How do you mean?"

"She's got one, hasn't she, your mam?"

"A car, yes, sure, my dad's, but what did she say about it?"

"She's been after a new one, hasn't she?"

"I don't know. Did she say that?"

Darren was tiring of the game and of the way the other boy was joining in. "I'm just telling you she isn't coming to fetch you in the car."

"Oh." Marshall's gaze sank, then swam up, looking less disappointed. "Well, okay. How is she?"

"Fuck, lad, I don't know. I've never met the—I wouldn't know what she normally sounds like."

"No, I mean how is she coming?"

"She's not." Darren let that hang until he sensed Marshall was about to panic, and said, "You'll have to go to her."

"I don't know if I can. I still don't feel..." Marshall backed into the room and sat in the nearest chair, staring at a cardigan before crushing it with his shoulders. "Anyway, you told me she said I wasn't to leave your house until she came."

Darren heard his mother tramping about upstairs, making all the noise she could. He paced toward Marshall, grinding the knuckles of his fists together behind his back so as not to punch Marshall in the face. "That was last night. She only said because it was cold. It's hot out now," Darren said, and forced himself to continue in case it might work. "Warm as being cugh, cuddled by your mam."

It wasn't worth the effort or the disgust which filled his mouth, especially since Marshall looked less comforted by the memory than embarrassed by him. "Didn't you ask if she could come in a taxi?"

"What the fuck else do you want me to do, lad? She's not my mam, or did you forget? What do you think I am, your brother?"

"I know," Marshall said with what sounded like a hint of wistfulness. "I know," he said as a thought struck him. "We can call a taxi and she'll pay for it when I get home."

"No." Darren ground his knuckles together so hard he was sure the other boy must hear them. If they hurt any worse he was going to transfer some of the hurt to Marshall's face—and then he almost grinned with thinking fast. "I said I didn't ask, I didn't say she didn't say. She hasn't enough money for a taxi. We've got to go on a bus."

Marshall frowned hard. "She must have enough money."

"Not at your house, and she'd have to go out to get some, so she wants to wait till you're home." Darren's knuckles were aching as his teeth frequently did, and he knew that if he brought his hands out of hiding he wouldn't be able to control them. He made himself look away from Marshall, to tone down his frustration while he tried to think. He could say his own mother didn't want Marshall in the house because—because she might catch what he had and take it into the hospital. He opened his mouth, and caught sight of a black motorcycle on the road. As the cycle passed, the rider turned the black globe of a head to watch the house.

"Sh—" The rest of the word came out like gas between Darren's clenched teeth. As the motorcycle vanished round the corner of the fence, he knew it would be coming back. Flexing his fingers in front of him as though in search of something to choke, he swung toward Marshall. "Stay there till I talk to my mam."

"You want me to stay now."

Darren twisted the doorknob viciously; it was that or Marshall's throat. "Do what the fuck you want if you don't trust me," he snarled, and slammed the door so hard that the sound seemed to become entangled with his footsteps running upstairs. "Who's that?" his mother cried, throwing her weight against her door as he moved it an inch.

"It's me, mam. There's—"

"Who told you you could come in my room? What are you after seeing, you mucky little sod? I'll have a few things to tell your da when he comes home. You'll be lucky if you just end up in hospital."

"Come out, mam." As Darren pressed his cheek against the door so as to talk low to her, his lips were pulled out of shape, making him sound like an idiot, which added to his rage. "I've got to tell you something you won't want anyone to hear."

"God," she said, a sound not much different from throwing up. He heard her stumping about again, and a clash of hangers in the wardrobe. He was leaning gingerly over the banisters to check that Marshall hadn't sneaked out of the front room when she flung her door open. She was wearing her orange dress which almost covered her knees and which reminded him of an overall, and he wondered if she was trying to look like a nurse. "So what are you bothering me for now?" she demanded. "You know what I want to hear. Have you got rid of your little friend?"

"He's not my friend, I fucking told you." Darren's knuckles ached with clenching, but he mustn't lose his temper when he needed her help. "Not yet, mam. I've seen someone watching the house twice since I went out. I think it's the filth."

"So what are you telling me for?"

"How can I get him out if they're snooping round?"

"How should I know? He's not my problem. I told you, you brought him, you get rid of him. As far as I know he's just one of your friends you had home while I wasn't here and gave him some stuff I didn't know you gave him and don't know where you got it either, and if you tell anyone different I'll have you put in care, and good riddance. I ought to let them have you now and get it over with."

Darren felt as stupid as he'd sounded against the door. "But mam, where can I hide him if they come in?"

"Nowhere I know of. One place you can't, and that's in here." She dug her fingernails into Darren's chest so as to shove him away from her room. "Don't bother sending anyone else up, either. I'll be asleep," she told him, and shut herself in.

Darren spat after her, but the door intervened. He kicked an upright of the banisters and sent it clattering down into the hall, and felt a little better—only it didn't help him get rid of Marshall, and he had no idea what would. Then he heard sounds in the front room, and a grin spread out of his mind onto his face. Not only did the sounds reveal that Marshall was as mucky as anyone else, they'd given Darren an idea.