The Perimeter (8 page)

Well, whatever things had used to be like, they certainly weren’t like it any longer. And I doubted they ever would be again.

Satisfied the tarp was adequately secure, I climbed back into the truck, restarted the engine and continued on my journey.

Within a few minutes, the patchwork walls of the compound came into view, a huddle of dark shapes at its base. I decided to park up close to the settlement and wait for someone to approach me. Then I could ask them about Lou and hope they’d fetch her for me. I wish I’d thought to ask what her last name was. As I drew closer, I made out the shapes of makeshift dwellings – the tents and shacks and low barbed wire fences. Several gypsies with rifles stood and stared as I came closer, their faces weathered and impassive.

I drew up as near as I dared, not wanting to be perceived as a threat and risk them firing on me. I stopped the truck, but left the engine idling, and waited. One of the men leaned across to another and said something. They sidled through a gap in the wire and headed towards me. My heart sped up, but strangely my mind felt quite calm. I had to keep telling myself that I was doing them a massive favour by coming here. I was doing something good. Even though it didn’t feel like it.

The two men were youngish with beards, wearing layers of filthy clothing. One of them had a face-full of piercings – lip rings, eyebrow studs and a hoop through his nose. They were both skinny and hollow-cheeked with deep-set eyes. As they drew closer, I saw pure hostility in their faces and it took all my strength of will not to throw the truck into reverse and gun it all the way home.

‘What’s your business here?’ the man with the nose hoop called out.

I lowered the window a fraction. ‘I’m a friend of Lou’s.’

‘Lou?’ They took a few steps closer, their weapons still lowered.

‘Yeah. Fair-haired girl with two younger brothers. Lives up close to the compound wall.’

‘I know who Lou is,’ nose-hoop replied. ‘What d’you want with her?’

‘She helped me out yesterday. I’ve come to say thanks.’

‘Get out of the truck and I’ll fetch her over.’

‘I’d rather stay inside till she gets here if that’s okay.’

They stopped a few yards away and talked to each other in low tones so I couldn’t hear. By now, several other gypsies had come close to the wire fence to see what was going on. I’d started to cause a bit of a stir – exactly what I hadn’t wanted to do.

‘Out of the truck,’ nose-hoop repeated, aiming his rifle at the windscreen. ‘Slowly. Hands in the air.’

I hadn’t come here for a gunfight, so it didn’t look as though I had much choice. I would have to do as he asked.

Chapter Ten

Jamie

Jamie spent the next couple of days recuperating. He took long cool showers and ate hearty home-cooked meals, but the problem was, he was still too scared to fall asleep. Despite his new safe environment, exhaustion crippled him. Shadows ringed his eyes and he had a constant hollow feeling of dread in his chest. Every small sound or movement made him jump. He was a bundle of nerves. Miriam and the other women were always busy so he didn’t get much opportunity to speak to them but, when panic threatened to overwhelm him, he remembered how she had taught him to breathe.

It was another hot summer’s afternoon and Jamie was trying to rest in the small yard at the back of the terraced house. At least these cotton clothes were clean and cool and comfortable. Better than his old falling-apart threads. He figured if he couldn’t sleep upstairs in bed, he might have more luck outdoors. After all, he’d been sleeping outside for the best part of sixteen years. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the sleeping arrangements that were preventing him from falling asleep.

The yard was a clean bare space apart from a warped plastic chair and a leafy Buddleia tree which provided some much-needed shade. Amid its dying purple blossoms, a few fat bees buzzed among the branches, extracting the last few sips of nectar. Jamie was in that suspended space between waking and sleeping where everything feels heavy and warm. It was a luxury to relax without fear of being robbed or attacked. If he could only manage a catnap, well that would be something. But even now, with his eyes closed, the girl’s dead image was trying to show itself.

‘Jamie.’ A man’s voice startled him and he opened his eyes, bringing his hand up to shade them.

‘Mr Carter.’ Jamie felt a moment of panic. So, his short stay was over. He had known he wouldn’t be able stay here forever, but the thought of going back outside terrified him. He’d always been pretty resigned to his life as a vagrant but, having tasted a few days of comfort, it would be a wrench to return to living on his wits again. Especially now, with all these unwanted images crowding his brain and the knowledge that he was losing it. Jamie reached for his crutches which were balanced against the wall and hauled himself to his feet.

‘Miriam fixed you up then,’ Mr Carter said. It was a statement more than a question.

‘Yeah. She’s been really kind.’

‘So are you ready to join us, Jamie?’

‘What? Stay here you mean?’ He felt hope quicken his pulse.

‘No. No one stays here. This is a transitionary place.’

‘Oh.’ Jamie thought as much.

‘Are you still looking for redemption? For peace?’

Jamie nodded. No doubt in his mind.

‘Good. Then you are needed.’

‘Where?’

‘Salisbury.’

His heart clutched with nerves. He’d heard all the rumours like everyone else. But surely it couldn’t be as bad as he thought – not if the people there were anything like Miriam. She’d said he would find peace in Salisbury. He should have quizzed her more about what went on there and about James Grey, but all he’d done that night was waffle on about his own life. He hadn’t thought to ask her anything important. Since then, he’d been too busy taking things easy to think about Grey. He cursed himself.

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ Mr Carter said.

‘Find out what?’

‘All those questions going through your head. They’ll be answered soon enough.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘Ready then?’

‘What? We’re going now?’

‘We are.’

‘Okay. I’ll go and get my stuff.’

‘You don’t need it.’

‘I . . .’

‘You’ll be starting a new life, Jamie. A better life where your old things are no longer required.’

‘Right.’ Jamie didn’t suppose it was the end of the world to let go of a few mouldy old clothes, but it made him a little light-headed to leave his bundle behind. He’d had it with him for years. Felt strange without it. ‘I better say goodbye to Miriam. Thank her for . . .’

‘No goodbyes or thanks are necessary. Miriam knows you’re grateful.’

‘Oh.’

Mr Carter turned and walked through the kitchen and out into the hallway. Jamie followed him. ‘What about my crutches? I can’t walk without them yet.’

‘Bring them with you. I’ll return them once your leg’s healed.’

The doors off the hallway were closed and there were no sounds from above. Mr Carter had said Miriam didn’t need any thanks, but it felt wrong to be leaving without a word. Seemed sneaky somehow. A week ago, Jamie wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but now he felt different. Something had shifted within him. He already felt like a better person. Ironic, really, that the death of an innocent girl should turn him into Mother flipping Teresa. And he was sure this was only the start. Yeah, there was a shedload more crazy shit to come his way, he was pretty certain about that.

Mr Carter’s beaten up AV was parked outside. Jamie arranged himself on the passenger seat, sliding his crutches into the back. The engine started up and they headed off. A momentary pang of nostalgia caused Jamie to turn his head and stare back at the nondescript house. He wondered if he’d ever see it or Miriam again. Probably not.

He was giving up his freedom for something else. Something unknown. He hoped it was for something better, but it surely couldn’t be much worse than the alternative. On the outside, the older you got, the worse chance you had at survival. Especially now with his dodgy leg and recent aversion to sleep.

They left the Boscombe Compound behind and traversed the familiar scrubland of Bournemouth. Jamie remembered the girl he was supposed to have met at the 'pound. He wondered if she was disappointed that he never showed up. He liked to think she would’ve at least wondered about him. He must need his head testing – instead of meeting up with a fit girl, he was heading off with a middle-aged bald bloke who was part of the God squad. Jamie grinned to himself. He must’ve injured more than his leg when that woman knocked him over.

‘How long will it take to get there?’ Jamie asked.

‘As long as it takes,’ Mr Carter replied.

Jamie sucked in a breath. ‘Roughly.’

‘Depends.’

‘On?’

‘Whether we go straight there, or whether we meet any other lost souls.’

‘Lost souls like me you mean?’

‘Everyone is different.’

‘Do you only take people who want to go with you? I mean, do you ever take people against their will?’

‘People don’t always know what they want.’ He turned to look at Jamie. ‘Do you know what you want, Jamie?’

Jamie was taken aback by the question. ‘A decent night’s sleep would be nice.’

Mr Carter nodded and turned back to concentrate on the drive.

‘How did you join Grey’s church?’ Jamie asked.

‘I was one of the first.’

‘So you’re a big shot then?’

‘None of us are important. We’re only here to serve.’

Sod that, Jamie thought. He wasn’t going to be serving anyone. He just needed help getting his head straight.

‘You’ll see,’ Mr Carter said with a smile.

Rough hands shook him and he lashed out with his fists, emitting a garbled cry. Sweat coated his forehead and his whole body trembled. Opening his eyes, he saw he was face-to-face with a man who had hold of his fists.

‘You’re having a bad dream, lad,’ the man said.

Jamie tensed up again and tried to free his hands, but the man held them tight. He recognised him. It was Mr Carter. They were in the AV on their way to Salisbury. He must’ve fallen asleep. As the tension left his body, Mr Carter released Jamie’s fists, relaxing back into the driver’s seat. They were parked in the middle of a pitted track alongside a fallow field. Birds sang in the hedgerows, but the noise sounded eerie and alien. The air outside shimmered with midday heat.

‘Not going to punch me again are you?’ the older man said.

‘Did I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’

‘. . . I’ve endured worse.’

Jamie turned to look at Mr Carter and saw a bright red mark on his cheek. ‘Oh, mate, I’m really sorry.’

Mr Carter held his hand up to silence Jamie. ‘No need to apologise. You’re troubled, anyone can see that.’

‘I was trying not to fall asleep,’ Jamie said, ‘but the drive must’ve made me drift off.’

‘We’ll be there in a few minutes. You’ve been asleep a while. Had some nasty dreams too by the sounds you were making.’

Jamie wondered if he’d talked in his sleep, worried in case he’d babbled about the dead girl. What if Mr Carter worked out what he’d done? He realised he was shivering, his legs trembling and teeth chattering. He tried to get himself under control but his body had a mind of its own and refused to keep still. What the hell was wrong with him? He was definitely cracking up, no doubt about it.

If Mr Carter noticed, he didn’t say anything; simply restarted the engine and carried on driving. Jamie rubbed his eyes and tried to shake the nightmare from his thoughts. The AV rattled and whined as they continued on down the rutted track. Jamie reckoned this old heap wouldn’t last much longer. Sounded like it was falling to bits. Looked like it too.

At the end of the track, Jamie made out a tall, barbed wire fence, which ran in both directions as far as the eye could see. As they drew closer, a heavy duty metal gate came into view, set into the fence with three huge padlocks. Mr Carter brought the vehicle to a stop.

‘Wait here,’ he said, sliding out of the AV. He had a bunch of keys attached to his belt and used one of them to unlock the gate. He climbed back in and drove through the open gate.

‘Want me to lock up for you?’ Jamie asked.

‘No thanks.’ Mr Carter left the vehicle once more to re-secure the gate and they continued on their way.

‘Is this Salisbury?’ Jamie asked.

‘It is.’

Jamie felt wide awake now and stared around looking for clues about their destination. But all he saw, other than the track, were fields and hedges, trees and fences. His shakes had subsided a little, but not a lot, and he clasped his hands together to steady them.

Eventually, in the distance, he made out a long solid shape – a brick wall. Jamie turned to look at Mr Carter to see if he was going to mention it, but the man had his eyes fixed firmly ahead. Beyond the wall, a tapering grey construction reached into the sky.

‘What’s that?’ Jamie asked.

‘What?’

‘The pointy thing up there.’

Mr Carter took a breath. ‘That ‘pointy thing’ is the spire of Salisbury Cathedral.’

‘It’s high.’

As they drew closer, the wall reared up like a tidal wave. The thing was massive. Must’ve taken months to build. There was no way you could break in and probably no way you could break out. That thought made him more than a little nervous. Now he was here, he wasn’t so sure he’d made the right decision. Mr Carter must have sensed his hesitation.

‘It’ll be fine. You’ll be glad you came. Your life will have purpose, your fears will be put to rest and your sins absolved. You will never go hungry and you will finally sleep in peace.’