No One Gets Out Alive Page 16

  Shivery and uncomfortable inside her own skin, she guessed she might now have a chill too. Either that or something had chilled her. When she tried to banish the memory of a cold ring of thin fingers about her arm, the sense of the touch persisted.

  As with the other arbitrary visits, at least her visitor the night before had not remained in her bed for long. The fingers had lifted almost as soon as Stephanie lay down. The cold had dissipated and taken away the awful tension from the air. But had her bedfellow left something behind, inside her? The dream. A message. A warning.

  The female presence that had been inside her first floor room thus far also suggested a sense of intelligence on the visitor’s behalf; that she was aware of Stephanie. Signs of a sentience Stephanie would rather not consider, because in addition to the repetitive predictability of voices behind floors, walls and closed doors, her torments had moved to a whole new level last night – one that suggested interaction.

  Even after tugging her woollen cardigan over her hooded fleece, her nerves still chimed with the discomfort she associated with being cold. Her head ached, consistently pulsing with a vague pain behind one eye and her forehead. Her body was lifeless, her limbs floppy. Even when she finally moved out of bed, a great exertion was required as if her muscles remained asleep. She wouldn’t have made it through a day’s work even if one had been offered.

  You’re broken.

  Mentally, she set herself the task of making coffee and washing her face. Her bags were already packed. After a coffee she would call the hotel and confirm a room for tonight. And then make her way to the city.

  * * *

  Her trip to and from the bathroom was made hastily, and she rushed a wash. But she’d found the bathroom quiet and warm. Instead of putting her at ease, the silence transmitted a nerviness into her and she drew no reassurance from the room’s motives for remaining mute. She suspected the house hadn’t fully recovered from the previous night. The thickening of silence that came into the house after dark, and the apprehension that accompanied the change of tone, seemed to have lingered deep into Monday morning, as if the demarcation that separated the vaguely sinister atmosphere of day from the tension and expectation of the night, had been removed.

  And perhaps the critical mass of the activity on the first floor, during the early hours, had survived the coming of dawn and now everything was just going to get worse. Even worse than it was.

  Stop it!

  The more she reflected on the previous night, the more she believed she had been witness to a phenomenon both contagious and in full swing; an energy that had developed an awful momentum in the first floor corridor and inside each room branching off it, in turn producing a force of attraction that connected the first floor to something far worse. Something that occupied the ground level, summoning whatever was down there to produce an unmistakable stench of decomposition. Or so it seemed to her now that she was awake.

  Not long now and you’ll be outside and back in the world. Not your problem. Just get out today. Just get out.

  A knock at the door.

  Stephanie stayed quiet.

  A jolly rap, a little drum roll; someone was in a good mood.

  ‘What?’

  It was Knacker. ‘Oh, you is up. I been down twice already but got no answer. Fought you might have been at work, but Fergal says you is in, like.’

  Twice? That wasn’t possible; she would have woken, surely, at any sound nearby, let alone a knock. Or would she? Even though her eyes had only opened half an hour ago, she already wanted to lie back and sink away into a deep, black, indifferent sleep.

  Stephanie entertained the idea that she was now too run-down and exhausted to fully wake up until near midday. And Fergal had told Knacker that she was in. So she was being watched. Maybe because she knew what they were up to, what their big entrepreneurial plans had amounted to: flogging the bodies of immigrant women to whoever knocked on the front door.

  Knacker drew her attention back to the door of her room and the dark house beyond it. ‘Wondered if I could ask you a favour, like?’

  She pictured his horrible face pressed close to the wood, listening intently, and her entire head shook from the pressure of a clenched jaw. ‘I’m not fucking anyone for money, so piss off! You ask me again and I swear on my life, I don’t give a shit how hard you think you are, I’ll put an end to this bullshit!’

  As soon as she finished shouting, she swallowed and stared at herself in the mirror as if trying to reclaim a sense of her real identity. Was she out of her mind?

  ‘Eh! Eh! Steady on, yeah? We’ve spoken about that, yeah. And you know my feelings on the matter. This has nuffin’ to do wiv that, yeah? The subject is closed. No harm was meant and I hoped none was gonna be taken. But I can see how you might have got the wrong end of the stick, like.’

  Was there a right end to his stick?

  He knocked again, harder. ‘Open the door, yeah? Fought you wanted your deposit back, like.’

  ‘That’s not funny.’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  She opened the door, then sat on the bed, sullen, wary, and trying to dampen the anger that wanted to spark into hysteria. God knew she was due.

  She’d moved the blunt paring knife from under her pillow to the front pocket of her hoodie, and now pawed her jumper and felt the little cylindrical shape hidden deep inside her clothing. She wondered if she could use it on anything beside a vegetable.

  Knacker came into her room soundlessly, with a feline tread. She watched her visitor closely. His huge, pale eyes immediately flitted about in their sockets, assessing the room, her packed bags, anything left on the floor, the mobile phone, and all in less than two seconds. His big eyes then lidded and turned on her, their intensity failing to align with the insincere half-smile on his big lips.

  She now understood that his eyes had a separate emotional life to the surrounding facial features. And they tried to pin her down again. Make her squirm. Thwart her own thoughts by somehow running interference on her mind and baffling her into a frustrated but wary silence. And there was a great potential in those eyes for their owner to do terrible things. She recognized it all over again.

  A slight bounce to his step, he veered towards the metal-framed coffee table. Checked the glass surface for dust as if this was a landlord inspection.

  Grinning, he raised his chin, his eyes wide and hungry for signals, facial tics, anything he could use as he stared right at her. Stephanie held his stare with an expressionless face, but suspected he could read her thoughts and feelings anyway, as if they were displayed on a screen. Maybe he had enough on file already to guess the rest.

  Insights into his predatory personality had come too late. He’d worked her inside out. If her own thoughts were his prisoners too, then she was entirely incarcerated. By this. This thing. There was no sign of compassion in those big wolfish eyes. No empathy at all. Only self-interest. How liberating it must be to have no conscience. And if you trained yourself to think like him there would be nothing good left inside of you.

  Was there a weakness? Vanity perhaps? Money most definitely. And the two were entwined: his need for power and status, his need to own bragging rights, to be better, to exclude and to look down upon others, because he knew he was also at the bottom. A rat with the pretensions of a lion, trying to escape humiliation, like the rest of us.

  ‘You’ve changed your mind about my deposit. So what do you want in return?’

  ‘Blimey, someone’s got out the wrong side of the bed, like.’

  ‘Cut the crap, Knacker. Tell me. Tell me what it is you want. What you can do for me, yeah? Which will amount to me doing something for you. Because nothing else really matters here and we both know it.’

  He looked genuinely offended, and ruffled, as if he’d underestimated her and her words had wounded him. Until the mask hardened in a fraction of a second and the grin returned. ‘Way I see it you’re in no position, girl, to be making the demands for—’

 
‘Then see it another way. That doorway is a line that you don’t cross until I leave this building. Unless you are going to give me my deposit, you just leave me the fuck alone on a permanent basis. How’s that? I don’t really care about what’s going on here, or what you thought I might get involved in because I’m skint and young and a girl. But it’s not going to happen. Ever.’

  He started to laugh while his complexion bleached, and that meant he was heating up with anger. The laugh was just a stalling tactic. Like a bantam weight boxer, he was taking time on the ropes to peer through the sweat that had run into his eyes while he thought about his next move. ‘See, I almost like this about you. You’s ain’t afraid to speak your mind, like.’ The smile vanished so quickly she flinched. ‘But neither is I, yeah? And there’s nuffin’ I won’t do to protect the financial security of my family. My family home. So if people don’t pay their rent, like, I have to take steps. I don’t give a fuck who they are.’

  ‘I paid my rent.’

  His voice rose to drown her out. ‘Same fing if people interfere wiv fings that ain’t nuffin’ to do wiv them. I will take measures. I fink you know that. I fink you know I won’t be treated like a cunt. There’s all kinds of people out there who will tell you the same fing. I ain’t called Knacker for nuffin’.’ Smiling again, he sat on the very edge of the table. She wanted him to sit his bony backside in the middle so he would go through the glass.

  He sniffed with satisfaction after his little speech; his putting her in her place as he saw it. ‘Why is you always puttin’ me in a bad mood, yeah? Every time I see you I have to go and cool off afterwards, like. I always feel like breakin’ somefing. And all I was trying to do was help you out.’

  Stephanie, literally, held her tongue between her teeth.

  ‘Way I see it, to cut a long story short, at the end of the day, like, you want your deposit so you can go and live in some scrappy hole. That’s your business. Ain’t my place to tell you you is wastin’ your time wiv these call centres and biscuit samples, whatever, yeah? But you is a adult and you is making your choice, like. So I might be able to make that happen, like, sooner than you fink. But I ain’t no charity, so you help me out and I’ll help you out.’

  She couldn’t restrain the surge of hope, but stamped on the instinctive feeling of gratitude that tried to sob its pitiful way out. Wait for the catch. ‘So, what is it?’

  ‘I was coming to that. But this ain’t somefing that can be rushed, like. This is business. A misunderstanding wiv the council that I want sorted out, like. And you being an educated girl and all, I fought you might know somefing about how to deal wiv it.’

  He hated asking her for a favour; she could see it in the way he tried to sound and look reasonable, like some responsible homeowner in a spot of bother with planners over building an extension. His fingers twitched on his thighs and made little drumming movements. ‘I’m a working man, me. Proud of my roots. Bit rough round the edges, like…’

  Here we go. She wondered if she could swallow another bout of the mythologizing tinged with misty-eyed sentiment.

  ‘… and these people down there, on the council, like. They try and jam you up, yeah? Hardworking people are the first to get fucked over, like.’

  ‘What is it? Tell me exactly what you want me to do in exchange for my deposit.’

  Knacker tensed up, alert to what he suspected was an attempt to redress the balance of power. His eyes had narrowed to such an extent she could barely see them at all. But she could almost hear his thoughts, like mice scratching behind a skirting board.

  ‘It ain’t nuffin’ dodgy, like, so don’t give me that look, yeah? There’s some decent cash in this for you, so I don’t want no hassle, yeah? I been bending over backwards for you since you got here. Let’s not forget all I’ve done. New room cus you didn’t like the first one. Best room in the house. Bottle a wine thrown in. Cheap rent.’

  ‘I’m not looking at you like anything. I’m trying to understand how I get my deposit back. You still haven’t told me what you would like me to do.’

  ‘That’s all right then. But there’s a tone, like. I can hear it in your voice. I don’t like bad atmospheres, me. I’m a laid back guy. Can chill out like the best of them, yeah? We just got a bit behind on bills and stuff. Council tax. Water rates. Few fings on the house, like. We been so busy setting up the business’ – he paused to assess her reaction to the word ‘business’ – ‘and all this other stuff, like, wiv doing up the house, yeah? We forgot about a few fings that need taking care of. You follow?’

  ‘So pay them.’

  ‘Ain’t that easy when we is so busy here. We got a full day on, and if you ain’t doing nuffin’, I fought you could go down to the council offices like and sort it out. Write a letter and all that. My solicitor usually does this sort of fing for me, but he’s on holiday. Got a place in Ibeefa. I go there sometimes. Very nice it is too. Anyway…’ Out of the pocket of his silky tracksuit trousers, he produced a small pile of envelopes. ‘These been coming.’

  ‘Is that them? Final demands?’

  He raised his chin and pursed his mouth. ‘Yeah, fought you could look over them. Shed some light on the situation, like, while my solicitor is away.’

  Stephanie paused and tried to second guess what it was he was really asking her to do. He wasn’t too busy to go to the council offices because there were no renovations at 82 Edgehill Road. The place hadn’t seen any attention in years. Knacker and his cousin did nothing but stare at closed doors, smoke cannabis, escort punters into the house, and lurk about like ferrets, so time was not an issue here. But what was?

  ‘This one on the top, yeah? Red one. Is the most serious, I fink. I seen the sums, yeah. The bottom line, like. But them numbers ain’t right. Can’t be.’

  She took the brown envelope and removed the letter. The top of the paper had a red border. She read it quickly. It was addressed to Mr Bennet. She recalled seeing the name before. ‘Bennet?’

  ‘Never mind about that. Business partner. Fings were put in his name while we was down south. Don’t worry about that. What’s it say?’

  It said the water rates hadn’t been paid on the house for a year. And then she stiffened with discomfort and looked at Knacker’s face: at the frown, at the big eyes full of confusion, while the features attempted to sustain a look of serious concern as though some great matter of national finance were under review. He couldn’t read. He was illiterate. Which meant that Fergal was too or he would have read the letters.

  ‘You owe three hundred quid on water rates.’

  ‘Free hundred! For water? They’s having a laugh, ain’t they? Who’s the supplier, Evian?’

  ‘They offer a direct debit payment plan.’

  ‘Fuck that. I do everyfing in cash, me. That’s daylight robbery, but free hundred ain’t nuffin’ to me. They can have that and fuck off. What about this one?’

  On the gas and electricity account the address was in arrears close to one thousand pounds. When she told him that was indeed the correct sum, based on an estimate, and that it had to be paid immediately, he turned as white as the ceiling above his curly head.

  ‘And this one?’ His tone of voice wasn’t so strident now and Stephanie experienced the first spurt of satisfaction in his company since she’d moved in.

  ‘This is from a debt collection agency.’

  ‘Eh? Fuckin’ bailiffs!’

  ‘Yes, because like I just told you, you haven’t paid the gas or electric for three quarters. The letter says they are coming to take the meter out. It’s dated two weeks ago. You have to phone this number to arrange payment or they can enter the premises at any time.’

  And then he lost it. ‘I told him, yeah! I told him to take care of fings while we was busy. That cunt’s done nuffin’. He’s run up all these bills!’

  ‘Who? Bennet?’

  Knacker cocked his head back. ‘Yeah. But don’t you worry about him.’ With a smirk on his face, he spoke like he was passing a capital puni
shment sentence on Bennet, whoever he was. ‘And these come froo a few days back too.’

  They were nine months old. Warnings from the council that there had been complaints about the state of disrepair in the front and rear gardens of the property. When she told Knacker this he said, ‘They’s can go fuck theirselves. I might pop round later for a quiet word in their ear, like.’

  The last five pieces of correspondence were also from the council and all threatened Mr Bennet with another debt collection agency for unpaid council tax. He was one year in arrears for another twelve hundred pounds, payable immediately.

  Knacker looked between his feet. Quietly, to himself, or maybe to her as well, he muttered, ‘You trust a person with a fing. Even wiv a simple fing. And you get burned.’

  The show of self-pity made Stephanie clench her fists. ‘So you give me the money and I’ll go and pay off these debts. But I want my deposit upfront.’

  Slowly, his head rose. The bloodless face beneath the dyed black hair was a slit-eyed sneer that made the marrow of her bones cool. ‘You is wanting your pound of flesh too, eh? Looks like everyone is in on it today.’

  A text message chimed its arrival on her phone. Stephanie looked at the screen, to refrain from having to look at Knacker’s horrid face more than through a desire to see who the message was from. But Knacker tensed and fixed his stare on the phone in her hand; his eyes were wide with an expectation, or sense of entitlement, that she should tell him who it was from.

  The text was from Ryan:

  AM COMING DOWN TOMORROW BEFORE NIGHT SHIFT. BEKKA CALLED. CAN’T LET YOU STAY HERE, SORRY. HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND. BUT AM BRINGING CASH FOR A DEPOSIT. DON’T TELL ANYONE. IF IT GETS BACK TO GF THERE’LL BE GRIEF. 82 EDGEHILL, RIGHT?

  Stephanie’s heart burst. She nearly wept.

  She did some quick sums. If she got her deposit back from Knacker today, and another £150 off Ryan tomorrow, that was £310. Add that to the £120 she had from temping and she could find and rent another room in Birmingham for four weeks. And still sleep in the cheap hotel tonight and tomorrow, plus the hostel on Wednesday. That would give her time to find a new room. She would not need to grovel and beg Val to take her in. She became light-headed with a relief that might have been euphoria.