Blood Rush (Lilly Valentine) (21 page)

Today she just smiles because Chika’s good fortune is also her own. Demi’s earning money and will soon have a drawer full of her own clothes to choose from.

She yanks the handle again, trying to get a look at the back. Whatever Chika has sent her to find is well hidden. She lifts the cotton tops and slides a hand under, her fingers brushing along the wooden base. Nothing.

She pushes out her bottom lip. Could Chika have made a mistake? Could she have put whatever it is somewhere else and forgotten? Demi looks around the room at the messy chaos. She doesn’t even know what she’s looking for.

One thing Demi does know is that she doesn’t want to be caught. She’ll have another rummage and then she’ll leave. Chika will be pissed off but there’s nothing Demi can do. She pushes the contents of the drawer aside, fingers searching. At last she hits on something firm. She rifles through until she finds a small
envelope
. One of those padded ones with bubble wrap inside. Gran sometimes gets them from back home and Demi likes to roll each bubble between her finger and thumb and squeeze until it pops.

The envelope is sealed but there isn’t an address on the front, as if it hasn’t been sent anywhere. Inside, she can feel something angular and hard, like a little metal tin. Demi grabs it and propels it under her hoodie and into the waistband of her jeans. She shoves the drawer shut but it doesn’t move so she nudges it with her side. The object in the envelope pushes into her hip bone.

When the drawer is nearly closed, Demi leaves it, and heads back for the stairs. The job is almost done. She’s halfway down, a smile on her face, when she hears the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock. Demi’s blood pounds in her ears. Mrs Mboko. What if she calls Gran? Or the police? She looks behind her, wondering if she should dart back into Chika’s bedroom and hide. Before she can make a move, the door opens and Mrs Mboko’s vast frame enters the flat. Demi freezes as if she can blend into the wallpaper and somehow Mrs Mboko won’t see her.

She watches in horror as Chika’s mother drops her small brass key into a bowl on the table in the hallway and turns to check her reflection in the mirror hung above it. Her face is sad and angry. Demi holds her breath and hopes Mrs Mboko heads straight into the kitchen, then perhaps she can sneak out without being seen.

It seems as if her prayers are answered when Mrs Mboko does indeed move towards the kitchen door. But as one fat foot passes over the threshold, she pauses, then takes a step back. Demi is gripping the banister so tightly her wrist hurts. Mrs Mboko looks up and their eyes meet.

‘Demi?’ Mrs Mboko frowns.

Demi doesn’t answer. She’s still holding on as if she’s afraid she might fall.

‘Is Chika with you?’ Mrs Mboko asks.

Demi shakes her head.

‘Is it true what the policeman said?’ Mrs Mboko’s mouth is tight. ‘That she’s assisting him?’

Demi nods and tears spring into Mrs Mboko’s eyes.

‘Oh my girl, oh my good girl,’ Mrs Mboko mumbles and leans heavily against the table, making it sway and creak.

Demi seizes her opportunity, bolts down the stairs past Mrs Mboko, her hand pressed against the package in her waistband.

‘Don’t you worry, Demi,’ Mrs Mboko calls after her. ‘Chika will soon help the police catch the people who hurt your sister.’

As the guards led Tanisha from the cells to the dock, she blinked at Lilly.

Lilly approached the rail and whispered to her client. ‘Don’t be frightened.’

‘I’m not,’ Tanisha replied, but the look on her face told another story. There was a stain on her prison sweatshirt and she picked at it with her thumbnail.

‘Have you had any second thoughts about …’ Lilly gestured to Tanisha’s stomach.

‘None.’

Lilly sighed and went back to her seat. Kerry gave her a little smirk and took the place behind Jez. He was a bloody good
barrister
so this was going to be an uphill struggle.

‘All rise,’ the usher called and Lilly got to her feet.

Her Honour Judge Josephine Bevan glided through the side door and nodded politely. Lilly thought her eyes lingered just a little too long on Jez’s handsome face but she chided herself for being paranoid.

‘Since your client is a minor would she prefer to sit with you?’ the judge asked Lilly.

Lilly smiled. ‘I’m sure she would.’

The guard unlocked the dock and Tanisha shuffled over to Lilly.

‘She seems all right,’ Tanisha hissed.

‘Don’t be fooled. She’s not about to give us an easy ride.’

The judge took a swift glance at her papers before turning to Jez. ‘So what do you have to tell me, Mr Stafford?’

Jez leaned his thighs lightly against the desk, a hand in his pocket. The first time Lilly had seen him in action she’d marvelled at his coolness and today she was bowled over all over again. Why wasn’t he ever nervous?

‘Your Honour, I won’t bore you by rehashing the details,’ he purred, ‘but suffice it to say that the prosecution strongly objects to the application for bail made by the defendant.’

‘On what grounds?’ the judge asked.

Jez shrugged as if he could barely bring himself to repeat it. Behind him, Kerry was almost drooling.

‘Given the seriousness of the case there has to be a flight risk, particularly as this young woman has no real home. Then there’s the possibility of her reoffending whilst on bail. Her list of
previous
convictions hardly fills us with confidence in that regard.’

‘I’ve read the transcript of Miss Valentine’s application at the Magistrates’ Court,’ the judge placed the nib of her pen on one of the papers in front of her, ‘and the main thrust of her
argument
seemed to be that the prosecution case was weak.’

Jez turned to Lilly and gave her the sort of liquid smile that had led her into that cloakroom with him, many moons ago.

‘And I have to say,’ the judge continued, ‘I have a fair deal of sympathy with that position.’

Jez held up his hands. ‘It’s true that at that point we didn’t have a statement.’

‘And I still don’t seem to have one today,’ the judge replied.

‘Fortunately, Your Honour, we can go one better.’ He paused for effect. ‘We have the witness here at court.’

The judge raised an eyebrow and Lilly cringed.

‘I think, Your Honour, you’ll be very interested in what she has to say,’ Jez said.

‘Yes indeed.’

Tanisha leaned in close to Lilly. ‘What’s happening?’

‘They’re bringing Chika in,’ Lilly replied.

‘Here?’ Tanisha was horrified.

Lilly grabbed her client’s hand. ‘Don’t say a word. Don’t even react. Let me deal with her.’

Behind them, the entrance door opened, and Lilly heard the rustle of clothes and the pad of feet. She and Tanisha resolutely stared dead ahead, their backs ramrod straight, their necks stiff. At last, out of the corner of her eye, Lilly caught the dark outline of a figure and allowed herself to cast a glance. Immediately she regretted it as she met Chika’s gaze full on. The intensity crackled like electricity. Startled, Lilly had to look away.

When Lilly had gathered herself enough to raise her eyes once more, Chika was being helped into the witness box by Jack. He gestured to the seat and gently pressed Chika into it. All trace of the raw energy that had unnerved Lilly had disappeared. In its place was the same look of confusion that had been evident on Tanisha’s face.

Lilly took a deep breath and tried to clear her head. Everything she’d been told about Chika had lead her to expect a monster. Instead, here was another frightened child.

* * *

The windows and front door of 63b Clancy are boarded up with metal grilles. There are loads of flats like that around the estate. Gran’s always complaining about them.

‘People all around the world are living in tents and shanty towns. It’s a disgrace to let perfectly good homes stand empty or to let the vermin take them over.’

‘Rats?’ Demi asked.

‘Worse than rats,’ Gran replied.

Demi lifts her hand to rap on the door. She wonders if there’s anyone inside, and if there is, how they’ll hear her through the thick steel. She doesn’t need to worry. Her knuckle is still touching the cold metal when the makeshift flap cut into the door slides open.

‘Yeah?’ a voice comes from inside.

She’s practised what to say all the way over here, but now her throat has gone dry.

‘I need to …’ She coughs and gulps. ‘I need to give something to Danny.’

‘What?’ the man asks.

Demi’s hand flutters to the hidden envelope. ‘I don’t know. Chika sent me.’

‘Chika?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fine. Hand it over.’

Demi reaches into her waistband and passes the package through the slot. Her hand is shaking as it is grabbed from her.

‘Wait there.’

Demi has to snatch her hand clear as the flap slams shut. She takes a step to the side and leans her back and head against the stonework. As she concentrates on breathing, she can feel the bricks prickling her scalp. At the far end of the walkway a woman leaves her flat. She’s got a toddler with her, most of his face masked by a dummy. They glance up at Demi and scramble in the
opposite
direction.

At last she hears the scrape and clank of metal, but instead of the flap, it’s the door that swings open. A man with dreads to his shoulders pokes his head outside and checks up and down the empty walkway before grunting at Demi.

‘Come.’

Like a bird, she hops inside and feels the whoosh of air as the door is wrenched close behind her. She tries not to panic as she hears the bolts being locked and peers into the shadows beyond. There is no light in the hallway and the air smells of chemicals. The man doesn’t even look at her as he leads her to the
sitting-room
door.

‘Danny wants to see you.’ He jerks his head and pushes the door open.

The smoke and brightness make Demi blink as she passes into the sitting room. Then she blinks again in surprise. The room is twice the size she expected. An enormous cave lit by bare bulbs. In the dead centre is a huge square coffee table, surrounded on all sides by mismatched sofas, where a group of men are playing cards. As Demi shuffles into the room, they ignore her, but she can see Danny leaning back into the dirty, sagging cushions, a
cigarette
clamped between his lips.

When she’s crossed a few feet she can see why the room is so big. The central wall has been knocked out, leaving a jagged, gaping hole. Demi is looking at the sitting rooms of 63b and next door.

Without warning Danny looks up at her. His milky eye, smooth as a peeled lychee, makes her shudder now as much as the first time she saw it.

‘All right?’

No. She’s not all right. She’s locked in a disused flat with one of the scariest men she’s ever met in her life.

‘Fine,’ she says.

He nods as if this news is important to him, then lays down his cards in a fan on the table.

‘Read ’em and weep, brothers,’ he laughs.

The others all shout together.

‘Motherfucker.’ The man next to Danny throws his hand across the floor, where a six of diamonds lands among the cigarette butts.

Danny is still laughing as he rakes a pile of money towards him with the side of his palm. Demi’s eyes open wide as she mentally counts at least three hundred pounds. Then she sucks in her breath. There’s a gun. It’s laid casually amongst the phones and the ashtrays, but it’s definitely a gun.

Danny catches her clocking it and picks it up, holding it next to his cheek, in line with his scar.

‘Thanks for this, Demi.’ He pauses, watching her reaction. ‘What? Did Chika not tell you what you were bringing for me?’

Demi clenches her mouth shut, determined not to show any emotion. Inside the envelope she had felt something small and hard. She’d thought it might be a tin of cash. Or drugs. Then again, she’d known it was too small. The gun glints silver in the windowless gloom.

Danny kisses his teeth. ‘She’s a crazy bitch that Chika. Or maybe she thought if she told you, you’d bottle it.’

‘I wouldn’t.’ Demi can feel the heat in her cheeks.

The men laugh and click their wrists. The only one not
smiling
is Danny.

‘Good girl.’ He blows out a plume of smoke. ‘Now I need you to do something else for me.’

Demi nods. It’s the last thing she wants to do but she’s hardly about to say that.

‘Just another delivery,’ he says.

Her heart is beating so loudly she’s certain they must be able to hear it. It’s like a drum in her own ears.

‘Rocky,’ Danny calls out of the room.

The man with dreads appears at the door, a container of chow mein in one hand, a white plastic fork in the other. ‘Wha?’

‘Give the sister here the gear for Solomon Street,’ says Danny.

The man forks in a mouthful of noodles, soy sauce dripping down his chin. He sucks them up with a smack and snorts at Demi as she follows him to the kitchen. She’s glad to escape from Danny but the sight of the kitchen fills her with horror.

On the stained work surface, where Gran keeps the bread bin and her Lean Mean Grilling Machine, are lots of large bottles with yellow labels. Demi might not be able to read too good, but she knows the symbol for
flammable
and she knows what it means. Nearby, in fact far too near, is an old formica table covered in a series of pipes and funnels joined together by plastic piping,
bubbling
away on top of three Bunsen burners all attached to a Calor gas canister. It looks like a joke version of the chemistry lab at school.

The smell makes Demi feel sick. Like a mixture of glue and bleach. Rocky doesn’t seem to care and continues slurping up his noodles.

‘In the corner.’ Rocky points with his fork.

Demi steps gingerly around the table towards a tray full of pills. The round white ones that are supposed to dry up a cold. Gran swears by hot water and lemon laced with chilli, but Demi’s seen these tablets in the chemists.

‘Not those,’ Rocky rolls his eyes. ‘The baggies, dem.’

Demi casts her eye around and sees a shoe box in the corner full of twenty-pound wraps of glass. She scoops it up, pushes down the lid and shoves it under her arm. She could be carrying a new pair of trainers rather than two thousand pounds’ worth of drugs.