Breaking East (7 page)

‘And you need to take yourself off, mate.’

They laughed, ‘Oh do we? Take ourselves orff, eh?’ But the laughter became fainter as they turned and wandered away.

Well, who’d have thought?

Stuart knelt next to me. Those huge hands, so gentle, picked the dirt out of my face. ‘Bloody hell, Atty. What have they done to you?’

When I woke the skin on my face felt like it had been stretched tight like a drum and every inch of me flamed red hot. And oh sheesh did everywhere ache, deep into the marrow of my bones. I flinched and squawked when I tried to sit up.

‘It’s okay, Atty. You’re okay.’ Stuart eased me back into a lying position. ‘You need to rest for a while. Wait there, I’ll get you a drink.’

My thick tongue and lips wouldn’t work properly and I dribbled the water down my chin. It tasted nasty anyway, like warm rusty iron. ‘Where are we?’

‘In a beach hut. I didn’t know where else to go.’

A torch hung from the ceiling and beamed a weak ring of light onto the dry sand. ‘What time is it?’

‘About ten.’

I needed to check in with Joe. ‘Where’s my phone?’ It hurt to talk and my voice came out nasal. My nose must be broken. I reached up to touch it.

‘Don’t.’ Stuart held my hand and pulled it away from my face. ‘Try not to fiddle. I fixed it while you were out cold. Must hurt like hell though.’

He could say that as many times as he liked. I groped in my pockets and found my phone. No signal, but three voice messages. All from Joe. Then I remembered why I didn’t really want to speak to him. I’d spotted a groomer and chosen not to report him. And now it was too late because the creep had taken Gemma and Stacey and God knows how many others. I flung the phone to one side not having the stomach to listen to what Joe had to say. Not yet.

Next time I woke, the sun shone shards of light through the cracks in the hut. I tested each limb and pulled a few faces - frowned, smiled and ran my tongue over my teeth. I wrinkled my nose and instantly regretted it when a sharp pain sliced into my brain. But, all in all not too bad, other than the nose, nothing appeared to be broken. I picked up my phone, checked the battery - still plenty - switched it off, and put it in my pocket. Coward.

I crawled out of the hut and sat in the sunshine. The warmth seeped through my clothes onto my skin, nursing the bruises. Cliffs towered over three sides and only several feet of sand lay smooth and damp between the hut and the sea. A lone swimmer headed from the east, parallel to the shore, in a slow crawl. I recognised Stuart’s sun-striped hair. He arrived opposite the hut and waved. I waved back. It felt like we’d slipped into some weird twilight holiday movie. Maybe I’d died.

He called from several feet out. ‘Um. Would you like to avert your eyes for a minute or pass me the towel?’ He grinned. ‘I’d hate to embarrass you.’

I needed a tree or a rock anyhow, so definitely not dead. ‘Give us five.’ I inched away to the bottom of a cliff edge. My knee throbbed - from smashing Carl’s teeth, no doubt. I hoped they’d popped clean out and he’d choked on them. As I ducked behind a suitable rock, I sneaked a peek towards the hut. What they say about the ratio to a man’s hands? All true.

I lingered long enough to listen to the messages from Joe. As predicted he sounded manic mental. -
I’ve had bunches of Reds banging on my caff door looking for you. Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? Getting into pub brawls, breaking into Approved houses … what were you thinking? I hope Stuart isn’t with you. He’ll be better off on his own.
- The last message began with a long silence. When he did speak Joe’s voice sounded thick with disappointment. -
Sometimes, Att, it’s better to sacrifice idiots like you for the sake of the movement. You’re a liability.

I wanted to cry.

I turned the phone off to save the battery and wandered back to the hut. Everything had spun clean out of control. And so fast. I sat next to Stuart. ‘Without Joe on my side I’ve got nobody.’ I hadn’t intended to say it aloud.

‘You’re not alone,’ said Stuart. ‘You’ve got me.’

‘No offence, but I’m not sure that’s going to help me much.’

‘Well, offence taken. You could at least try me?’

And so I told him. I told him how I was supposed to be looking out for him. How I’d been such a crummy best friend Fran had hung herself and that’s why I’d taken my eye off the ball and Gemma got taken away. How I’d been such a numbsky to not report Gold-tooth while I had the chance – before he took Gemma. How mad Joe was at me, even let him listen to the messages, I left nothing out and told him all of it. He sat with his legs bent, elbows on his knees looking out to sea. He didn’t interrupt and waited until I finished before he said, ‘You were sent by the resistance to spy on me?’

‘Look out for you,’ I said. ‘It’s different.’

‘Course it is. I wondered why you were being so
helpful
.’

I had no defence and I put my head in my hands. It all made me want to curl up and switch the world off.

‘And,’ he said, ‘you knew that guy was looking for kids.’

‘Not Gemma. And not exactly. I just knew there was something dodgy about him. I got instincts.’

‘Yeah, you said.’

‘She’s
your
sister.’ I wanted to bite the words back.

‘Yeah, she is.’ He looked beyond furious. ‘And what about that Red you keep riding around with, what’s that about?’

‘He’s got this idea I’m up to no good. He seems to be keeping an extra close eye on me for some reason.’

‘So let’s just clarify the situation here,’ Stuart tilted his head, faking a polite interested look. ‘Right now we’re under the special interest of a Red, the head of Basley resistance would like a word, and we’ve robbed the office of an ISS approved agent. Anything else I should know about?’

I thought it safest to say nothing.

‘And,’ he said again – there were an awful lot of ands - ‘You lied to me.’

‘No. I just didn’t tell you everything.’

‘Same thing. All that crap about trust and instincts.’ He stood up. ‘I’m going for another swim.’ And he strode towards the water flinging his tee shirt into the sand but, this time, left his shorts on.

I considered leaving. Letting him come out of the water and finding me gone. But the beach was unfamiliar, we could have been anywhere and, well, where and who would I go to? The only advice came from within - Dad,
Think positive, Atty
. Yeah, right.

When Stuart came out of the sea he sat next to me, knees bent, relaxed and easy. ‘This,’ he said nodding at the sea, ‘is my favourite place in the world. Whenever anything gets too much, this is where I come.’ He looked into my eyes. ‘Nothing is ever as bad as all that when you’re sat right here.’ He pointed at the sand between his feet.

‘Ah okay,’ I said. It was only a pile of sand - sand, sea and sky. Whoopy doo.

‘I hope when I die, not only for it to be in my sleep, but here, with sand between my toes and salt in my eyelashes.’ He looked deep into my head. ‘It’s not working for you, is it?’

I shrugged. ‘Mm. I’m not against the idea.’ The cold coming off his skin cooled my arm and I smelt the sea in his hair. It made me feel grubby as a bin bag.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘If everybody is cheesed off at us at least we know where we stand, right? It means that we know the only people we can rely on is us. Nobody else. Now, I know we might not be a lot, but I reckon we’re enough. Between us, we can find Gemma and Fran’s baby and bring them home. Joe will be so impressed he’ll forgive you for everything. In fact, he’ll promote you. He’ll groom you to take over when he retires.’ He smiled at me. The salt patched in little circles around the stubble on his chin. ‘See?’

Talk about delusional. Extreme positive thinking at its best, Dad would love him. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it was always my plan to get promoted as soon as possible, even be the boss one day. Blowing my cover and getting twelve shades kicked out of me is all a part of that process, of course.’

He nodded and pursed his lips. ‘Mm, yes. Well, it’s good to know everything’s going so well, to plan as it were.’

We both studied the sea. I still couldn’t see the fascination. It didn’t look like it might be about to do anything spectacular, it just sat there, splashing about.

I took a deep breath. ‘I do understand why you might be a teeny bit cheesed off with me too though.’

He pulled a stern face. ‘Yes, I bloody am.’

I laughed.

‘No. I bloody am. Why are you laughing?’

I put on a mock voice. ‘You bloody are, are you? Bloody hell. Are you bloody, bloody?’

‘What’s wrong with bloody?’

‘Bloody cricket and horses … pass the bloody decanter.’

‘Have you suffered a knock on the head or something?’ He shook his head. ‘Man, you batty-crazy woman.’

We spent some time studying the file and came to the conclusion Gold-tooth must have been the main signatory. ‘His name has to be Crawlsfeld,’ I said.

‘It kind of suits him.’ Stuart had drip dried but his hair looked like he’d spent an hour preening. He screwed his nose up. ‘Creepy Crawly Crawlsfeld.’

The children had been sent to a place in North Wales called Sapton Manor. There were glossy photos of what looked like a holiday park with ponies and go-karts. Your child is our future read the tagline.

‘It all looks so … well, nice.’ I said.

‘Yeah.’ Stuart didn’t sound convinced. ‘It doesn’t make sense though, does it? If it is all so nice, surely it would cost the parents to send kids there, not the other way around.’

‘We need to go and check it out,’ I said.

‘Mm.’

‘We’ll get the money off Carl and your dad, and buy them back.’

He gawped at me like I’d suggested we hurdle the moon. ‘We can’t go back into Basley. We’ll get crucified. Or worse, we’ll be arrested.’

‘Well then we’ll get them back some other way. If we have to leave Basley anyway, we might as well go north and suss the place out. What else are we going to do?’

‘Given all the people looking for us, we can hardly hail a taxi, can we?’

So much for positivity. ‘Well, there are other modes of transport,’ I said. ‘If we can get to Craffid, we could jump a cargo train. When it slowed at a junction or something.’

Stuart scoffed. ‘Um, you’ve been watching too many movies. And in any case, how far are you going to leap with that gammy knee, uh?’

I stretched my leg and winced. ‘It is a little sore, granted.’

Stuart gave me a told-you-so look. ‘Let’s get a decent night’s sleep in so we’re fresh for tomorrow.’ He reached into the hut and unpacked the last of the food from his backpack. ‘The only way I know to get on any transport is to pay top dollar so you’re right, we need money. We’re going to have to hope one of us dreams up an idea to get some.’

Everything, everything, came down to money in the end.

I woke early and lay listening to gulls screech and the ocean slap and shrush on the wet sand. Stuart didn’t emit so much as a heavy breath let alone a snore - a silent sleeper and another box ticked on the look-at-me-I’m-such-a-perfect-specimen form. I bet I’d snorted and dribbled half the night. I crept out of the hut leaving him curled under a towel and hobbled to the edge of the sea. Its vastness was emphasised in the early light, and it lay so still, as if it might be preparing to pounce. The waves lapped no bigger than puppy licks onto my toes and the water felt dense like cool milk, but looked clear and refreshing. I stooped to scoop and bathe the stickiness off my face. My nose had bled again during the night and black crusts pulled at my lip. I must have looked like walking road-kill.

We’d squabbled a little the night before and failed to agree on what we should do next. Stuart wanted to speak to his dad about money, but I didn’t think it was such a good idea. We’d thrown the pros and cons around until we’d agreed to sleep on it. Back to back.

‘Yeeeeehahhh!!!’ Stuart sent me leaping out of my skin as he ran past me into the water. I stumbled backwards, falling to a sit in the wet, and caught a flash of Stuart’s white bum disappearing into the water.

‘Argh. Now look.’ I only had the one set of clothes and they were already grubby enough. I stood and swiped at the wet sand stuck to my rear.

Stuart’s head broke the surface. ‘Come on in. The salt water will do you good.’

Yeah, right, like I was about to strip and flop my fleshy bits around in front of anybody, least of all him with his six-packed gut and tight bum cheeks. ‘We haven’t got time.’ I stomped off to my rock and stayed behind it until he’d got out of the water and got dressed. Me, shy. I would never have credited it. We needed to get away from the place, before it turned me soft.

As Stuart pushed the last of his gear into the bag, I tried to convince him that Carl would be a better source of funds. I struggled to stop short of pulling rank and tried to tell him gently. ‘I’m experienced at this sort of stuff. I know how people in the resistance and Reds from the Law think.’ Stuart, for all his money and education, struck me as being pretty thick. ‘Think about it.’ I pressed on. ‘Nobody will expect us to go back to Carl again. Whereas everybody’s going to think you’ll turn to your dad, right?’

‘Everybody probably will, yes. Then, after they’ve thought we’ll go to my dad, because that would be the obvious thing to do, they’ll think there’s no way we’ll do the obvious.’ Stuart used the tone that jangled my nerves, the one that people like him reserved for idiots. ‘Which is why they won’t bother watching him,’ he said. ‘And the one person who won’t be expecting me to go to my dad is Dad himself. He knows how much I hate him and how I hate going to him for help.’ He raised a finger. ‘Usually. Trust me, he will be totally relaxed thinking he’s finally got shot of me. See? I’ve thought it all through.’ He stood, slung his bag over his shoulder and tapped his temple with his finger. ‘Genius.’ He walked away.

I limped after him. ‘But they’d be even less likely to think I’d go back to Carl. I mean he’s got to be mad at me, only an utter plum-head would go and ask for payback, right?’

‘So,’ he said in a sing-songy, take-the-mick voice, ‘you admit, you’d be a bloody plum-head to go and see Carl, right?’

‘So,’ I sang right back, ‘you’re just going to waltz up and knock on your dad’s door, right?’

‘Nooo.’ He drew the word out like he spoke to a child. ‘I shall arrange for him to drop it somewhere. The quarry strikes me as a good potential spot. We can see people coming for miles from up there.’

I had to admit, the quarry was isolated and barren so not too bad a location for a secret meet. And I didn’t really want to risk another pasting. It hurt. ‘How do you know your dad will do it? You don’t want to make contact if all he’s going to do is squeal to the Law.’

‘Easy,’ he said. ‘I’ll threaten to tell the Law I’ve got something stashed at the house, lemondrops or something, and there’ll be a bunch of Reds escorting me, in shackles, to his front door before dark. With a warrant.’ He gave me a smug grin. ‘He won’t risk that. All that shame and embarrassment on his doorstep? His tart would throw a right wobbler. Trust me, once she goes off on one there’s no shutting her up. Especially if they get thrown out of the neighbourhood – they do that, you know, chuck people out of the community if they show disloyalty to the Law. Dad’ll do all he can to keep me and the whole mess out of his wife and the neighbours’ way. I know it.’

I decided to let things brew a little in both our heads. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

At one end of the bay, tucked behind a huge rock the shape of a dragon’s head, was a path of rugged steps. On the climb, Stuart stopped to look at the view at frequent intervals giving me chance to rest my knee. How the hell he got me down there I daren’t ask. The undignified image of being carried or dragged with my mouth hanging open, shirt up, belly out. It made my head hot. ‘Couldn’t you find anywhere more difficult to get in and out of? Like the bottomless well on planet Zog?’

‘You’re very welcome, Atty. Think nothing of it.’ Sarky git, when he wanted to be. At the top of the steps Stuart nodded towards something behind a bush just out of my eyesight. ‘Do you want a ride?’

I caught him up and looked to see what he was talking about. A rusty wheelbarrow rested upside down in the long, fawny grass. It had a single fat tyre, bald and shiny, it looked comically pathetic and utterly useless. ‘Uh. No.’

‘No need to look quite so appalled. How do you think I got you here? Carried you over my shoulder like Superman? It’s fifteen miles.’

The mental picture of me slumped in the barrow, arms dangling either side, head lolling … it really couldn’t get any better. So much for the hard-core, rock-chick look I’d worked so hard on.

‘Come on. Sit in it for some of the way at least.’

‘No chance.’ I strode ahead, stiff-legged and wobbly. ‘I’ll walk.’

It took hours to get back. Not once did Stuart complain. I saw his understanding silence as yet another example of how darn perfect he was. No way could I have been so reasonable had it been the other way around, and knowing it annoyed the hell out of me.

The quarry was enormous and round with a lake at its base, like an enormous post-squeezed zit on an otherwise flat landscape. They called it a lake, but it was deeper than it was wide and, no matter how hot the day, the water always looked dark and bitter cold. My dad used to reckon that, from outer space, it must look like a neat little septic boil on the arse of the world. Basley being the arse - totally believable.

There used to be security patrolling the boundaries to stop kids wandering in and drowning - electrified fences and armed guards, the full works. But nowadays, local kids stayed away through choice as their parents’ recited tales of trolls and goblins living in the water waiting to grab little ankles and drag them down, down, down.

We clambered, me painfully, to the top of the quarry lip. The heat distorted the air above the white gravel, shimmering like gas, the only other movement being the odd fly. I swear I heard the dust settle when we stopped to consider our next move.

‘This will do nicely,’ Stuart said. ‘Can I borrow your phone? I ditched mine.’

‘Why?’

‘It had a trace on it.’

I wanted to ask who would do that and why but it felt pointless. If it was gone, it was gone. Stuart’s earlier chirpiness had vanished and he’d turned back into the scared boy I found at the edge of the blocked tunnel. His nerves unsettled me. ‘Are you sure about this?’ I asked.

He laughed. ‘No.’ He looked at the phone. ‘This is chipped, yeah?’

I nodded. ‘Only Joe will know how to trace it. He has the code.’

‘He wouldn’t give it to anybody, would he? No matter what. No matter how angry he might be at you, right?’

‘He’d die rather than turn me in to the Law if that’s what you mean. But be quick. According to the movies you’ve only got a couple of minutes once he answers.’ I waved my hands around. ‘You know, in case there are Reds tuned into the airwaves or something.’ I didn’t like relying on information from old movies, but it was all I had for a base point. Stuart was supposed to be the educated one. Perhaps he should have read more. In science maybe.

‘And if Joe turns up?’

‘He won’t. He just wants me to stay away, remember?’ That was an out and out lie. Of course he’d come looking, or at least send somebody else, but hey, it slipped out by accident. ‘Just be quick. In case of anything, okay?’

We stood on the ridge at the top of the quarry, nobody else around, no movement, no anything.

‘When you’re ready,’ I said.

Stuart cleared his throat, fidgeted and scanned one last time before thumbing in the number. He put the phone to his ear and drew a swift deep breath, blowing it back out hard, like at a candle on a birthday cake. ‘Dad? … Don’t tell anybody I rang … bring five grand cash - now. To the quarry. Else the Law will be round your house. I mean it. Place it down by the water, behind the biggest rock and then leave. Oh and have a happy life.’ He stabbed at the phone and handed it back. ‘Woah, phew.’ He panted and sweated as he paced about. ‘I feel like I’m in an old spy thriller of some sort.’ He rubbed his face with the hem of his tee shirt. The muscles on his stomach were tight and pronounced. Tick.

‘Mm.’ I turned away. Must concentrate. ‘Was that enough of a threat, do you think?’ I screwed up my face and adopted Stuart’s deep tone. ‘I mean it?’

‘He’ll know I mean it.’

‘Okay.’ Even their threats sniffed of super snobby politeness.

‘All this drama is a bit embarrassing, really,’ he said. ‘We’re probably over-reacting, right?’

‘No.’ I looked at the time on my phone. ‘How long should we give him?’

‘Don’t know. What do you think? Half hour?’

‘Where will he get that sort of cash from in half an hour?’

He frowned and answered like I’d asked the stupidest question ever. ‘In his safe.’

‘Five grand?’

He nodded, hands on hips. ‘Yeah.’

‘Well if it’s so easy to hand, perhaps we should only give him ten minutes.’ The unfairness and bitterness of how some people had it so easy sharpened my words and I could see they poked at him.

He squared his jaw. ‘Okay. Ten it is. You’re the one who does this sort of thing all the time, after all. What with all this experience you’ve got.’

‘Ha de ha. Five grand? I wish.’ I scoffed, deliberately misunderstanding him. ‘I’ve never even seen that much dosh.’

‘Well you will today. Let’s see how quickly it changes your life.’

It sounded like he had a chip of his own to lug around. Our team of two didn’t seem to be gelling quite as we’d hoped.

Ten minutes is a long time.

Stuart yo-yoed between embarrassed and pooping his pants in panic. And he started to sweat. ‘He’s not coming.’

I checked the time again. ‘It’s only been two minutes.’

‘What if he’s gone straight to the Law and dobbed me in? Or to Crawlsfeld? He’ll know it was us who broke into his house by now, won’t he? Or even Joe…’

‘Your dad doesn’t know Joe.’

‘No. Okay. Hurray for that. He won’t go to Joe.’ He jigged his knees and his feet shifted in the gravel. ‘Out of all the options,’ he said. ‘I’d have kind of preferred Joe.’

‘If you kept still and shut the hell up we’d hear him coming sooner.’ I said.

The silence felt palpable. It clogged thick inside my ears like earplugs, as if the air itself tried to stop us from hearing anything. Talk about paranoid.

We heard the high whine and saw the dust clouding above the road long before we spotted the moped bounce its way along the track. Stuart kept his eyes focused on it and started that irritating jig again. ‘Shall we try and get the bike off him too?’

His dad looked ridiculous, like he’d never ridden the thing before. He wore a suit, the jacket open and flapping about, his tie stuck out over one shoulder.

‘Is it his?’

‘Of course. Well, mine. We used to go over the old motocross track when I was a kid. Used to be good fun, back in the day.’

‘Then, yes. We need to get to Craffid somehow and that looks like as good a way as any. And we can stay off the main roads.’

‘Right.’

Neither of us moved. My knee hurt like buggery, I didn’t feel up to a sprint across the open gravel.

Stuart took a deep breath. ‘It’s going to have to be me who collects the bag and rides the bike.’

‘Oh, yes, you got there eventually. Just took a little time.’

He shot me a look. Ha, not so perfect after all.

Stuart’s dad careered through the broken gate, the bike’s back wheel skidded in the dry dirt, and the engine squealed loud like the whole world would hear it. When he turned it off and stuck the bike up on its stand, my ears continued to ring. Nothing else came up the track behind him. To get to the water he had to climb over the quarry’s lip and down into the pit. He adjusted a backpack and looked up and around the rim. Stuart and I ducked, my face squashed painfully against the sharp gravel.

Stuart wide-eyed, mouthed, ‘I’m going to hide behind the rock to wait for him.’ The sweat bubbled on his top lip and even more ran down the side of his face from his hairline.