The Grave Part 11

As the doors swished open on the ground floor she flew out. Alarms were sounding somewhere, security men were scurrying forward but for the moment confusion reigned. She sprinted across the tiles and out of the gla.s.s doors, over the pavement, jigging back and forth between taxis, pedestrians, a patient transport vehicle. She flung her head back and forth, with no idea of how to get out of the hospital grounds she simply ran along the roadway. There would be no time, no second chance, she had committed herself. Now they knew she had something more to hide than being forced to protect herself from a crazed gunman. That she had left Samuel struggling against the odds in the Intensive Care Unit would speak volumes to them and from now they would treat her as any other fugitive criminal. She had entered the world of her father, but on a totally different level and from a different place. As she ran she let the tears flow freely down her face, all she could do now was run as far and as fast as she could. Away, just away.

Chapter 42.

Through the big stone gateposts and out onto the main road. Traffic was building as the morning headed towards rush hour. She turned right simply because she turned right, the city was an unknown landscape and the streets a maze of shops, offices and terraced houses. She ran upwards, it was a gentle incline but an animal instinct told her to run from the dead end that was the river and so it was. She skirted round the protestant cathedral, the majesty of it lost on her. There was building work everywhere, the old city being ripped apart to make way for hope and endeavour. Her track suit and trainers rendered her invisible; a city where girls ran to the shops in their pyjamas and a huge percentage of the population spent their day in casual clothes ignored a scrawny girl in sports gear.

Her heart hammered and each breath tore at her throat on and on, taking corners on a whim, turning and backtracking like the hunted creature she was, she tried to confuse the trail. Then there came a time when she couldn't run anymore. She was done, had no idea where she was or what to do next. She leaned against a grimy brick wall, bent forward and rested her hands on her thighs. Panic threatened again and she pushed it away. After a minute or so the st.i.tch in her side eased and she raised her head. All around her cars and pedestrians forged into their days, young mothers pushed buggies and dragged at reluctant toddlers, old women hobbled about with wheeled shopping bags and now and again a little invalid scooter would threaten her toes. It was too much, she had to find some peace, somewhere there had to be a place where she could curl into a ball and hide from this dreadful new reality.

She had no money, not a penny. The cheap grey tracksuit and a pair of paper knickers. That was what her life had been reduced to. She couldn't have Samuel, didn't have a family and had left her friends. What was the point of it all? She was overwhelmed with despair. For a while her brain refused to function usefully, how could this have happened, what was she going to do, what on earth was she going to do?

There was a small park up ahead, a little playground and a patch of gra.s.s, some benches. She made her way through the entryway and flopped onto the first bench. Birds sang and she was aware of the chattering and laughing of children, a couple of dogs barked. She heard it from a distance, removed and unreal, thoughts swirled unformed in her brain and her hands began to shake. She couldn't breathe now, gasping she leaned forward.

"You awright?"

She shook her head, go away, leave me alone, please don't make me try to speak.

"Are you sick?"

Again she shook her head.

"Stoned, drunk, what?"

She raised her face. A tall, skinny girl stood in front of her; there was interest on her face and slight concern.

"Only if you're stoned you shouldn't stay here, the bizzies come through here."

At the mention of police Sylvie's head jerked up, she shot a look right and left.

"It's okay, don't panic, there's none now."

"I'm not stoned or drunk. I'm really tired that's all, I'm just really, really tired."

"Are you on the game?"

"What? No, no. I just, oh well I'm lost really and my friend is in the hospital and I don't have any money and..."

She couldn't carry on, the d.a.m.ned tears started again, stole her voice and left her helpless and hopeless sobbing on the park bench with the skinny girl watching, her head tipped to one side. After a moment or two she sat down and took hold of Sylvie's hand, it was a simple, honest gesture and as Sylvie leaned towards her the stranger wrapped her arms around the heaving shoulders and patted her gently crooning quietly.

"Aw now, come on now, it's okay, really it's okay. Come on now."

"G.o.d I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

Sylvie pushed away making a small s.p.a.ce between herself and the stranger who now dropped her hands into her lap and was simply smiling , turned on the bench so she could look at this bedraggled and forlorn young woman.

"D'ya feel better. A good cry's the best thing, gets it all out."

Sylvie nodded, no she didn't feel better, didn't believe there would ever be a 'better' but this person was so very kind she didn't want to cause offence.

"Tell ya what, I was goin' to the caf', get a cuppa, come on, I'll sub ya."

"No, no, it's fine. I couldn't I'm sorry I don't know what came over me."

"Where're ya from?"

"Well, down near London, but I've lived in a lot of places."

"Yeah, I could tell ya weren't from round 'ere. Posh you are."

"Posh, me, no, no I'm not."

"Well you sound posh to me. Anyway, ya comin'? Ya might as well."

She stood and dragged a short jacket tightly around thin shoulders, again that patient, slightly quizzical look and then she turned from the bench and took a couple of steps, looked back and jerked her head, an unspoken invitation. Sylvie stood up and matched her pace to the other girl's and they headed out of the park and back into the hurly burly of the main road.

Chapter 43.

Steam clouded the windows of the little cafe where the air was warm with the smell of breakfast. The lanky girl stalked up to the counter.

"Two teas and two egg on toast Phil."

The sound of the familiar name swept through Sylvie like a cold wave, she began to s.h.i.+ver. For a while it seemed she may faint and so she caught her lower lip tight between her teeth, she tasted metal and the small pain brought tears to her eyes but beat back the encroaching darkness.

"There ya go, food'll be ready in a bit, they'll give us a shout."

"I don't have any money, I can't pay you back."

"No, I guessed. Don't worry, I got my Giro yesterday."

The mug was heavy, thick and white and the tea was strong. The girl across the table trickled a couple of paper sachets of sugar into the liquid and stirred it round with a wooden stick.

"So, I'm Lennie."

She stretched out a thin hand. A tattoo of a snake coiled round the bony wrist and disappeared into the beige cotton sleeve of the thin jacket.

"Sylvie, thanks Lennie, I really mean it, thanks."

Tears started to her eyes again and as she brushed them away with the back of her hand. Sylvie shot an embarra.s.sed grin across the Formica towards her new friend.

"I'm sorry about all this, I've got stuff going on and to be honest I don't know what I'm going to do about it all. My boyfriend's in the hospital, he, well he got hurt, it's really bad and I feel rotten about leaving him but I didn't have any choice."

"Is it the filth?"

"No, well, actually yes. The police are looking for me but that's not all of it."

"Hang on."

Lennie unwound her lanky frame and retrieved two plates piled with toast topped with fried eggs. She slapped them down on the table, collected knives and forks from a wooden stand and then sc.r.a.ped her chair back in place. Sylvie was still trying to find a way to explain some of what had happened to her without risking this girl, who she knew nothing about, turning her in to the police.

For a while they ate and drank quietly, glancing at one another and sharing a smile, each a little shy now the original camaraderie of encounter had past.

"So, your fella, what's his name?"

"Samuel, he's called Samuel."

"Is he goin' to be okay d'ya think?"

"I don't know, he's in intensive care, they operated on him most of the night."

"s.h.i.+t girl, what ya' doin' here you should be with him. Was it them slags of nurses, they can be right b.i.t.c.hes sometimes, when me granddad was in hospital they kept tellin' us to leave, "It's not visitin' time, we have work to do." "Well I told 'em. Sod you and your work this is me granddad and I stayed. Good job too, he died and if we'd a gone he'd a been on his own. Not right that.

"You should go back, tell 'em you're stayin'. They won't throw you out, not these days, tell 'em you'll go to the papers or better still on Facebook."

"No, no the hospital people were fine, they were lovely actually. It's not that.

"The police were going to arrest me. I ran away, that's why I'm in this"

She plucked at the thin grey top.

"Ah. Did you do it, hurt your boyfriend then?"

"No, no he was shot, not by me though, by someone else."

"s.h.i.+t."

"Yeah. So, anyway I shot the man who shot Samuel. I killed him."

As she said it Sylvie felt her control slipping again, her hands began to shake, rattling the cutlery against the cheap porcelain. Lennie leaned over and took the knife and fork from her hand laying them tidily together before covering Sylvie's quivering fingers with her own warm, bony hand.

"They won't arrest you though will they? I mean if you shot him in self-defence. You didn't do anything wrong. You should tell 'em. I'll come with you if you like, the bizzies don't bother me, they all fart in the bath just like you and me. Oh, G.o.d I'm so rude, sorry. I don't know that you do, oh that's no better and leaning away from the table she gave a great gale of a laugh. "G.o.d, what am I like, honestly, sorry. My mam says I should make sure my brain's in gear before I open my b.l.o.o.d.y mouth. Sorry, but I mean it, you should tell 'em. There's no need for you to 'ave run away."

"No, no that's not all of it. There's more, so much more and I can't really tell you but it isn't as simple as it sounds. If I go back and they start to ask me questions then I know, I just know I'll get Samuel into trouble and he's spent so long, years and years just trying to keep out of it. I wish I'd never met him, I love him, G.o.d I really love him and yet I've brought him nothing but trouble right from the start and now I can't go back and I can't be with him and I don't even know if he's still alive."

The sobs would wait no longer and while the workmen and young mums and old ladies sipping their instant coffee watched, with a mixture of intrigue and embarra.s.sment, she laid her head on the table top and cried as her heart broke.

Lennie sat silently on the hard chair, now and again she lifted the mug to sip at the cooling tea. Her face was impa.s.sive but pensive, she made no move to comfort Sylvie but behaved as though having her dining companion dissolve into floods of tears was an everyday event and worthy of no more notice than she would have given a dropped chip or a spilt tube of sugar.

Chapter 44.

The sobs subsided, the tears dried but she felt dead and cold inside. Tea and food had done little to lift her mood and even the sparky company of this down to earth young woman made no real difference.

"That feel better?"

Lennie put down her cup and watched as Sylvie blew her nose and tried to compose herself. She attempted a smile which failed miserably and gulped to head off a restart of the flood.

"I don't know what the h.e.l.l to do and that's it. I have nowhere to go, not a bean, no clothes and..." She shook her head, unable to carry on.

"Tell you what, why don't you come back to mine? You can get some zeds, have a shower if you like, whatever. It's not posh my place, a bit grot really but you can come, if you like."

Sylvie began to shake her head but stilled the response, what choice did she really have. Acknowledging she knew nothing about this young woman she also had to recognise the kindness and generosity she had been shown and the terrible cul de sac that had trapped her. At least if she was inside she would be less likely to come into contact with the police and an hour to evaluate her situation could only be good. She nodded.

"Thanks Lennie, it'd be great it really would."

"Come on then, might as well get goin'"...

The flat was small, grubby and untidy. There was one room. A bed was pushed into the corner under an old fas.h.i.+oned sash window which had been dressed with flimsy pink curtains. The headboard was grey metal and pink fairy lights had been twined between the bars. The covers were thrown roughly across the mattress and a battered teddy bear glowered on the pillows. A chair and coffee table took up much of the remaining floor s.p.a.ce with a bean bag sagging against the cream painted wall. A plastic curtain partly covered a kitchen alcove where a sink and cupboard unit stood in a dejected huddle with a small fridge. There was a door in the corner opposite the bed and Sylvie a.s.sumed this lead to the bathroom. It wasn't a great s.p.a.ce but it was warm, there were posters on the walls and a small table pushed into the corner held a mirror and a collection of bottles and tubes. Plastic boxes were pushed under the bed but there was no other storage s.p.a.ce.

Lennie shrugged off her little jacket and hung it behind the door. An answering machine beeped urgently and she walked across to jab at the b.u.t.ton, the screen showed six messages waiting but she made no attempt to hear them.

"Make yourself at home."

Lennie indicated the chair with a sweep of her hand and then turned away. She straightened the kitchen curtain, pushed the bean bag further into the corner with her foot and fiddled with a couple of the bottles on the table. She seemed twitchy and ill at ease, Sylvie felt a tension rising that hadn't been there before. She had made a mistake, she shouldn't have come.

"Look Lennie, I'm really grateful, I am, you've been brilliant but I think I'd better go, see if I can get back to the hotel, maybe I can get my stuff."

She knew it was a ridiculous thought, everything would surely have been taken away but it seemed like a good reason to leave.

"I might be able to, you know, go to the bank, I have a bit of money, if I tell them I lost my cards." She shrugged.

Lennie turned to look at her, a tear glinted in the corner of her eyes, her face was drawn and sad.

"I'm sorry Sylvie, honestly I had no choice about this. I don't wish you any harm but I didn't have any choice."

As her face creased in puzzlement alarm wormed its way into Sylvie's gut. What was this?

A sharp slam and the sound of feet on the bare wood of the staircase notched up her sense of alarm. The door flung back and two men in dark jackets and jeans filled the s.p.a.ce. They strode into the room ignoring Lennie who had backed against the wall, her hand pressed to her mouth, tears now dripping across her cheeks. She shook her head as her eyes sought out Sylvie sending a wordless message of despair and shame across the meagre s.p.a.ce.