The Disappearances (16 page)

But he put his knife back in his pocket. You didn’t mess with a car like this without there being consequences, complications. And Devil didn’t need that kind of attention right now.

Instead, he just stood next to it, imagining the sound of the doors clunking, the feeling of the soft leather, the smell, the purr of the engine. One day, he thought to himself. One day …

And that’s when he felt the metal against the back of his neck. ‘Like my car? You should get in.’

He didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t have to. A large man with a thickset head appeared next to him and opened the car door.

‘Fancy a ride?’ said the man holding the gun.

Devil didn’t say anything. You didn’t mess with guns. Maybe this was it for him. Maybe the Green Lanes Massive had friends he hadn’t banked on. He closed his eyes, said a quick prayer, then got in.

There were four men in total. Two on either side of him, big blokes, not to be messed with, one driving, and the one with the gun was in the front next to the driver. He was the one that Devil had his eyes trained on, watching him, studying him, taking in every detail. He’d thought he was quite old, at first. He was bald, for starters, looked like he was losing his hair, But now, looking at him, he could see that he wasn’t. Close up, it was clear that he wasn’t that much older than Devil, in fact. Other than that his face didn’t give that much away.

Devil watched him anyway, watched his hands, watched his chin, in case he gave something away, something that Devil could use. ‘People always give themselves up,’ his dad used to say. ‘You learn to read people, you’ll have them at your feet.’

He wasn’t scared, not yet. No one was saying anything, and Devil was happy to wait. They were driving, the quiet hum of the car making him feel sleepy as they sped along the roads, the car barely registering the various pot holes it encountered.

His father’s car had been a Lexus. The one he’d had in Hertfordshire anyway. It was only after he’d gone, only when the police came round asking questions, that he’d discovered that Hertfordshire was only one of his father’s lives, that Pastor Jones was just one of his aliases, that the Church of Good Faith was only one of his little empires. Did he drive a Lexus in his other hometowns, Devil had found himself wondering. Hoping, actually. Hoping that he knew something real about the man who was his father, about the man who had run away, who had turned out to be not at all the person that Devil thought he’d known. He liked to drive a Lexus. That was something. Without that, he had nothing.

The first time his dad had beaten him had been because of the Lexus. Devil had been four, had been so excited because he’d been allowed to go to church in it, sitting in the back seat like a grown up, like his father. And he hadn’t wanted to ruin it, hadn’t wanted to risk being ejected, so when he’d got the urge to pee, he hadn’t said anything, had held it in, had waited. But he hadn’t banked on his father getting a phone call, getting angry, shouting down the phone for what felt like hours until Devil couldn’t hold it in any more, until he’d pissed himself right there on the leather seat.

And years later, when his dad had finally agreed to let him in the car again, it had been in the Lexus that his father had delivered his private sermons, the lessons that Devil remembered to this day, that gave him his identity, that gave him purpose. ‘Son, there are two kinds of people in this world – the haves, and the have-nots. The leaders and the followers. The brave and the weak. The winners and the losers. The people in my church, they’re the losers. They need me. They need to be told how to tie their shoes, when to eat, when to shit and when to pray. That’s what I give them, son. That’s why they give me their money. I give them direction. I give them what they need. And that’s why I have this car. I deserve it. Not God. Me. God doesn’t do anything for anyone, that’s the truth. And you can sit in here with me, you can enjoy the ride, but it’s not your car, it’s mine. If you want a car like this for yourself, then you need to be one of the haves, one of the winners. Do you understand?’

Devil had been ten the first time he’d heard that little speech, his father’s deep Nigerian accent beating into his soul. And he’d heard him. He’d heard him loud and clear.

‘So then,’ his father had said, smiling. ‘That’s our little secret, eh boy? I have a lot to teach you, son. And you have a lot to learn. You listen to me and I will teach you. But you breathe a word of what I say to anyone else, and you will know pain like no other. Do I make myself clear?’

Devil had nodded, just as he nodded every time his father said exactly the same thing. But true to his word, he didn’t tell anyone, and eventually his father stopped the threats; stuck instead to the lessons. But he always returned to the car. ‘Cars maketh the man’ was one of his favourite catchphrases.

It was the day after his father had delivered the lesson for the forty-second time that the police had come and taken the car, taken the house. They’d wanted to take his father too, but he’d already gone in the night, to one of his other homes, one of his other lives.

And a few days later, when Devil and his family were ‘relocated’ to the estate, he had realised that his father had been right about everything. He was always ahead of everyone else. That’s what you had to be in life: ahead of everyone else, in the driving seat, not held back by anything or anyone. They never found his dad or the money; it had gone with him to wherever he’d escaped to. Turned out the house was rented; turned out the car was on HP. Turned out even his mother’s marriage certificate wasn’t real.

Devil sat forward. All that was in the past now. All that was irrelevant. I-re-le-vant. This week’s word. Meant that it didn’t mean nothing. It reassured him. Nothing meant nothing. Leona used to mean something, but she wasn’t there no more with her little voice chatting away in the background, those dolls she used to carry around everywhere she went. She was gone.

And Devil told himself it was a good thing. She’d been his weak spot. He’d have done anything to protect Leona, kill anyone who came close to her. And look where that had got them. You couldn’t kill an accident. You could only blame the person who left the window open. You could only walk away and promise yourself that you’d never care about anyone again ever in your whole life because it hurt too bad, because it made you feel like your insides were going to explode.

He took a deep breath. ‘So where are we going?’ he asked.

The man turned round to look at him. He smiled. ‘Let’s not spoil the mystery shall we, Devil?’

Devil’s eyes narrowed. ‘And how do you know my name?’

‘Oh I know a lot of things about you, Devil,’ the man said, turning back to face the front as the men either side of him forced him back against the seat. ‘But let’s not worry about that now, shall we? I like to listen to music when I drive, if it’s all the same with you. And we’re nearly there. You’ll get the answers you want soon enough. My name is Thomas, by the way. It’s good to meet you finally.’

Devil opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind. There was no point. He knew that. So instead, he said nothing as Thomas pressed a button and the car was filled with loud music. Whatever this guy wanted, he’d turn it to his advantage. That’s what it was to be strong. That’s what it was to become a winner.

Raffy stormed towards the centre of the Settlement, not sure where he was going, but seething with anger, resentment and frustration. Because she just didn’t get it. It was fine for her; coming here, embracing everything. Everyone loved Evie. Everyone had always loved Evie and everyone always would. People were drawn to her, people wanted to be around her. People like Neil. Like Lucas. Like everyone.

And they all wanted to take her away from him. From Raffy. Raffy, who no one liked, who no one loved. His own mother had barely looked him in the eye for most of his life and his brother had kept a watchful eye in case he stepped out of line. In the City, people had always regarded him with suspicion and whispered when he walked past. And he didn’t care, had never cared. But that was only because he’d had Evie.

He knew he was being irrational. He knew he shouldn’t have been spying on her. But she was too trusting; she didn’t see people for who they really were. She needed Raffy to protect her. It hadn’t been that long ago they’d been running for their lives; he couldn’t just switch that off, not like Evie could.

He pushed past a table. He was in the centre of the Settlement now, where little tables and chairs had been set out for people to talk, play card games or enjoy a drink of beer made by some of the farmers. Most of the farmers came here two or three evenings a week, to blow off steam, to relax, to talk. And although Raffy had been invited many times, he had never been; having spent the day away from Evie he had always wanted to rush back to her, to be with her, to have her all to himself. And anyway, he wasn’t interested in beer; he had tried it once and it tasted vile. Now, looking around, he decided that perhaps a beer wouldn’t be such a bad idea; perhaps a beer was just what he needed.

As he was about to sit down, Simon, a farmer who had taken Raffy under his wing and become something of a mentor to him, came over. ‘Raffy! You’ve come at last!’ He grinned. ‘I knew you’d be tempted eventually. Come on, join us.’

Raffy looked at the group – there were ten or so of them, all men he worked with, all men he liked. He nodded and walked over with Simon, and immediately a tankard was placed in front of him.

He took a sip, but Simon shook his head. ‘If you drink, you drink like a man,’ he said with a wink. Raffy lifted the tankard again and downed it, nearly choking on the musty liquid as it went down his throat, reminding him of the swamps by the City gate that had flooded his mouth and nose when he and Evie had escaped.

‘That’s more like it,’ Simon said cheerily, pouring him another. ‘So where’s that lovely girl of yours? Left her at home have you?’

Raffy stared at him angrily, then forced himself to nod. Simon didn’t mean anything by it, he knew that. He was a kindly man, thickset, large-boned; a man whose strength had astounded Raffy when he’d seen him on the field, a man whose face was always crumpled into a grin, the lines around his eyes etched from smiling. His wife, Marion, was half his size but equally cheerful; they had five children who could often be seen running around the Settlement causing mayhem, their father smiling benignly and only getting angry if their behaviour veered towards being rude or thoughtless.

‘She’s reading,’ he said, not meeting Simon’s eyes. It wasn’t a lie – at least it might not be – but it wasn’t the truth either.

‘Reading,’ Simon nodded thoughtfully. Then he shrugged. ‘Never had much time for books myself. But it’s a noble way to spend an evening. Unlike us, eh, gentlemen?’

The men laughed and drank more beer; Raffy could feel his head becoming woozy as the alcohol took its effect, felt himself smiling and laughing even though nothing particularly funny was being said. Perhaps he should have done this before, he found himself thinking. Perhaps he should have come out with these men instead of staying at home watching Evie, or pacing around waiting for her to return.

But the moment he entertained that thought, he felt the familiar clench in his stomach as he pictured her, alone and vulnerable. He imagined Neil or some other man dropping in to say hello, imagined them looking at her, thinking that they were worthy of her, thinking that the smile she gave them meant something, meant anything …

He closed his eyes, and all he could see was the look of anger on Evie’s face when she’d discovered him spying on her. He’d never seen her look at him like that, so furious, so disappointed.

He stood up. ‘I have to go,’ he said, pushing the table and causing several drinks to spill.

Simon looked at him strangely. ‘Easy, Raffy. What’s the rush?’

‘I have to go,’ Raffy insisted. ‘I have to get back to Evie.’

‘I’m sure she’s okay,’ Simon said, his voice gentle but firm. ‘I’m sure she won’t mind if you have a drink or two.’

‘She won’t mind,’ Raffy said. ‘But I do. I need to get back to her. I need to …’ He pushed his chair back, staggering away from the table. He could hear Simon calling after him but he didn’t turn back. He had to get to Evie. He had to apologise. Had to make her see why he’d been watching her, make her understand that he was only doing it for her. Because he loved her. Because he needed her. Because she needed him.

And then he stopped. Right in front of him was the man who had caused all this, the man whose fault it was that Evie was angry.

‘Neil.’ He propped himself up on the table that the teacher was sitting at. ‘Neil. Enjoying a beer, are we?’

Neil was sitting with a small group of men and women with earnest faces. They all stopped talking and looked up at Raffy. Neil smiled. ‘Raffy,’ he said warmly. ‘How nice to see you. Are you well?’

Raffy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well? No, not really. But don’t you worry about me. You don’t usually worry about me, do you Neil?’

Neil frowned. ‘I’m sorry, Raffy, is something the matter?’

Raffy gripped the table. Then he leant down so that his face was just inches from Neil’s. ‘You leave Evie alone, do you hear me?’ he snarled. ‘You stay away from her. Or you’ll regret it.’

Neil didn’t flinch. ‘If by “stay away”, you mean “cease teaching”, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Raffy. So long as Evie wants to learn and gets something out of our discussions then I am at her disposal. Just as I am at anyone else’s disposal. Yours, if you’d be interested. I could—’

But before he could finish, Raffy had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and forced him to the floor, knocking his chair over in the process. Then he was on top of Neil, hitting him, shaking him, shouting at him, until several other men grabbed him, pulled him off, held him back.

Raffy didn’t know how long he was restrained, shouting at Neil, his legs kicking out furiously. But he did notice things going quiet all of a sudden; did notice the atmosphere change as someone walked towards him.

‘Let him go,’ he heard Benjamin say, his voice quiet but firm. ‘Raffy, come with me, please. I think we need to have a little chat, don’t you?’