Breaking the Circle (3 page)

Kay protested but Maya drew her down the alleyway between the surgery and a betting shop. ‘It’s hot, yeah?’ Maya said.

Kay gave her a puzzled look.

‘So they’re bound to have windows open.’

‘You are crazy,’ Kay whispered.

At the back of the surgery were a small car park and a brick extension. Maya put her finger to her lips and slowly and silently moved towards the biggest window, which was slightly open.
Flattening herself against the wall, she edged forward and peered in.

In the middle of the room was a high metal table and on it was Gunner. There was no mistaking the dog, but the fear factor had gone – he was laid out cold. Music played in the background
as a young woman, presumably the vet, sewed up his cut paw; the sheet underneath was soaked with blood.

Her hand on the window, Maya waited, then, putting her faith in a blast of louder music, she dared to lever the window open a little wider. A pair of skinny legs disappearing into black studded
boots came into view to one side of the window – they had to be Gerard’s – and, next to them, just under the window, was her bag.

Tilting her head, she managed to see Gerard’s face. He was gazing forwards, his attention focused on the operation. Never taking her eyes off his profile, she eased the window open a
little more and slid her arm down over the sill. Groping with her fingers, she found the strap to her bag, gripped it and pulled. Suddenly Gerard shifted, he flicked back a long strand of hair and
sat forward. She froze. The bag dangled in the air. At any moment she expected him to dart towards her, but then he spoke.

‘Gunner will be all right, won’t ‘e?’

The vet, intent on her work, didn’t look up as she answered. If she had, she would have seen a girl’s arm hoisting a bag through an open window. The slight scuffing noise it made as
Maya pulled it over the sill sent her into a mad panic and she grabbed it with both hands and dodged down beneath the window. Crouching on the gravel, she hardly dared breathe. Blood beat in her
ears as she waited for a shout or a head to be thrust through the window above her. Nothing came, no sound, nobody appeared, so, cautiously, she wriggled sideways, shimmied upright and tiptoed
away.

Before rounding the corner, she flung a quick glance over her shoulder. Kay hadn’t moved, she was standing at the other side of the window, frozen and white as a ghost.

In the alleyway, Maya stopped for a moment to dip her hand in her bag. Fumbling between the books and loose papers, her fingers grasped a small solid block. Yes – she had her phone! Now
all she had to do was leg it up the road and disappear.

The first obstacle was to get past the vet’s front door. Peering cautiously round the corner, she dodged back as the door opened. A thin woman carrying a cat basket emerged. She waited,
then, just as she was about to take off, Kay grasped her shoulder in a vice-like grip.

‘We must go. We must go before Gerard finds out and comes after us.’

‘Us? I’m going home,’ Maya said.

‘No, you cannot leave me. I have a bad foot.’ Kay’s eyes were wild with fear. ‘I cannot run. Gerard, he will. . .’ She stopped suddenly and her face became sulky,
her voice accusing. ‘You promise to help me.’

Maya sighed. ‘All right, come on, I’ll take you to a friend’s café.’

‘I cannot walk. I try but the pain is bad.’

Aware that at any moment Gerard could come rushing out of the surgery, Maya bit back her irritation, hitched her bag onto her shoulder and bent down. ‘Jump up. I’ll give you a
piggyback.’

Kay clung on like a limpet as Maya stumbled along the high street. Victor’s café was only a short distance, but to Maya it seemed further than all the races she’d run that
day. Her schoolbag was heavy, Kay’s bony fingers were like claws digging painfully into her shoulders and her foot was hurting. And, for all she knew, Gerard could be right behind them
– it wasn’t possible to turn round to check. When she finally lurched in through the open door of the café, she was filled with relief.

After depositing Kay in the nearest chair she slumped down herself.

‘Oh, my God, I’m whacked. I thought any moment he’d come running out and catch up with us,’ Maya said. ‘That was exhausting.’

‘I am not heavy,’ Kay said.

‘I was carrying you and my bag!’

Kay lifted her damaged leg onto a vacant chair, settled back and unzipped her leather jacket. ‘Why do you care so much about your mobile?’ she asked, fixing Maya with her gold
stare.

The question took Maya by surprise. She bit her lip, gazing into the distance a moment before answering. ‘My mum’s away, I don’t know where she is. She calls me on my mobile.
Without it . . . I won’t know . . . I won’t know if she’s safe.’

‘Safe?’

‘My mum’s work is special. She can’t always tell me where she’s going. If I don’t answer my phone then she might not have another chance to call me. And if I
don’t answer she might think something’s happened to me.’ Her voice went quieter until it was barely a whisper. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

Kay’s amber eyes were bold and challenging. ‘No. I do not understand. I have no mother, no family.’

Maya swallowed. ‘I’m sorry.’

A dark shadow fell over Kay’s face and Maya saw her withdraw into herself. Silence stretched between them. Maya felt responsible, wishing she hadn’t mentioned her mum, but then she
thought with a twinge of irritation, shouldn’t it be Kay who was feeling bad? She’d stolen her bag and mobile and caused that mad dog to chase her, scaring the pants off her. She ought
to keep away from guys like Gerard.

‘Is Gerard your boyfriend?’

Kay sniffed. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Why do you owe him money?’

‘He gives me stuff to deliver.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

Kay slid her hand up to her hair, tugging at the thin blonde strands. She looked down, blinking. ‘He is a dealer.’

‘What, you mean drugs?’

‘Of course.’

‘You sell drugs?’

Kay shrugged. ‘Mostly I just carry stuff for him. But this time he ask me to get money for him – five thousand pounds he want for this package and I lose it. I must pay him
back.’

Maya’s eyes opened wide. ‘Five thousand pounds!’ She shook her head. ‘You’re not going to make five thousand pounds stealing a few mobiles.’

‘I know. He wants me to do something worse than steal. He says I must go with men but I say no, never.’

Maya looked at Kay with horror. What on earth was she mixed up in?

Victor, the owner of the café, came over to take their order – tea for Maya and strong black coffee for Kay. While he went to fetch their drinks, Maya was trying to imagine what
Kay’s life was really like.

‘Earlier – you said some words in another language,’ she said.

‘So?’ came Kay’s sharp response.

‘Where are you from?’ Maya asked.

Kay’s face went blank, all emotion scrubbed away from it. Then she said firmly, ‘I do not talk about it. None of your business.’

‘I’m sorry. I just thought, well . . . I was adopted, so. . .’

‘So you were lucky.’

A sharp, stony silence divided them, while Maya struggled with questions she dared not ask.

Finally she said, ‘When my mum comes back I’ll talk to her, she might be able to arrange something.’ Her voice tailed off – they both knew it was a slim hope. ‘Have
you got a mobile?’

Kay shook her head. ‘Gerard take it.’

‘Here, I’ll give you my number.’ Maya picked up her bag and searched for pen and paper. All her books were still there, purse, papers, pencil case, then her fingers clutched a
soft package that wasn’t familiar. She drew it out.

Kay’s eyes opened wide. ‘Oh, my God! Give it to me, give it to me!’

Maya handed over the package and Kay bent and examined it. Inside the polythene was a square foil packet.

‘Look, see the number written on back.’ She kept staring at the parcel like she’d found treasure. ‘I lose this, so why did Gerard have it and put it in the bag?’
She frowned. ‘Maybe he trick me. He have package all the time. He want me to think I lose it.’

Maya watched as Kay wrestled with the problem, but then her face cleared, she shrugged and looked happier.

‘No. Gerard did not do that. I think he find the package. He want to tell me but you are there, then his dog was hurt – he forget.’ She grinned. ‘Everything is OK
now.’ She levered herself up. ‘You have the mobile, I have the package. I will go.’

‘All right. But, look, take my number.’ Maya wrote down her mobile number and the house phone. ‘Call me,’ she said handing Kay the paper.

Kay put the paper in her pocket. Then, with boot in hand, she limped towards the door.

‘You can’t walk home like that,’ Maya said.

‘Don’t worry, I will get a taxi. See you.’

As she disappeared from view, Maya stared after her. If Kay had money for a taxi, why on earth had she accepted a piggyback ride to the café? She sipped her tea gazing at the door and
wondered if she’d ever see Kay again.

A warm waft of spice-scented air greeted Maya as she entered the kitchen. There was some compensation when Pam was away – Maya’s grandmother Helen came to stay and
cooked fabulous food.

‘What’s on the menu tonight, Gran?’ Maya asked, putting down her schoolbag.

‘Chicken tagine,’ Helen answered, setting a large casserole dish on the table. ‘I thought you’d be here hours ago.’

‘Sorry. Athletics practice, then the coach wanted to talk to me. I didn’t realise how late it was.’

Helen turned, glanced quizzically at Maya, then looked more closely. ‘What’s happened to you?’ Her eyes swept over Maya’s dishevelled state. ‘You’ve got blood
on your leg and your skirt’s torn. You look as if you’ve been in a fight.’

‘I know. I’m an idiot.’ Maya made a face and went over to the sink to wash her hands. ‘I fell on the pavement – wasn’t looking where I was going.’

Helen’s sharp eyes followed Maya as she dried her hands then moved to sit down at the table.

‘You’re limping. Are you sure you’re not hurt?’

‘Scraped my foot, that’s all. It’s fine. I’ll have a shower after I’ve eaten.’

‘As long as you’re OK. No broken bones?’

‘No. It’s just a scratch, a bit painful, that’s all.’ Maya helped herself to some rice. ‘I did great tonight – shaved three seconds off my best
time.’

‘Well done!’ Helen said. ‘That’s amazing. You must have a good chance of winning the inter-schools.’ She spooned a heap of chicken onto Maya’s plate.
‘I’m glad you’re home now, though. I was beginning to worry. You should have called me.’

Maya apologised. It had been a split-second decision not to tell Helen about what had really happened on the way home, but she was pleased she hadn’t. It was only a few weeks since Helen
had had to cope with terrorist threats made to her daughter and granddaughter and the terrifying events that had followed – Maya figured her gran deserved a break.

But though she didn’t talk about being mugged or the whole episode afterwards, she couldn’t stop thinking about Kay. Time and time again she saw Kay’s tiny, haunted face. She
listened to Helen explaining about her new yoga class and an interesting radio play, but as she tucked into Helen’s delicious cooking, she couldn’t forget how excited Kay had been when
she thought she was going home with her.

You’re crazy, she told herself, she’s just a thieving, smelly street kid. Rank hair, pale face, thin as a rake – and she said she’s a junkie. But, she couldn’t help
thinking, if Pam hadn’t adopted me, I could have been Kay – homeless and desperate
.

‘I wonder if Mum will call tonight,’ she said to Helen, as they cleared dishes from the table.

‘I wish I knew where she was,’ Helen said.

‘Me too,’ Maya answered.

Homework took up most of her time after dinner. Pam didn’t call and later, when she was lying in bed, it took a long time for Maya to fall asleep.

Meeting Kay had stirred up memories. In her dreams, fragments of images fluttered around her head like circling moths – the heavy bolt on a cellar door, numbers etched on a stone wall, icy
water slopping from a bucket, a covered head bobbing in prayer.

Feelings long buried took shape and tugged at her as she fell in and out of sleep – the cold clutch of hunger, the sweet melody of a song, the fearful boom of falling shells. And, most
vivid of all – the sharp stab of terror when they came – ringing footsteps descending, coming closer and closer to the cellar door, men with rough hands, pushing and shouting, the dark
heavy metal of guns and her father, tall as a tree, forced to the ground.

Then came the familiar sense of panic – separated from her family, she was running, searching, shouting out their names. She tossed and turned as the images flickered and faded. There were
no faces, just shadows, until the shadows were consumed by flames – fierce, flaring flames lighting up the night sky. It was a recurring dream – flames silhouetting a church roof,
flames licking at a locked door and inside the flames people screaming.

The dream ended as it always did with Maya shouting out in her sleep, but this time, just before she woke she saw something new – a girl, a small girl, thin with straggly blonde hair. She
grabbed Maya’s hands and pulled her away from the fire, muttering words in a language Maya couldn’t understand. The girl’s hands were hard and firm on her back, and then she was
falling. The last thing she saw were the girl’s eyes, lit by the fire – they gleamed with a golden light.