Cold (12 page)

Rocky leaned across and kissed the dark woman lightly on the lips and then pulled back. She turned to open the car door and found herself pulled back and turned again. Jo's arms were almost crushing in their need to gather the small blonde up, and hold her tightly.

She didn't resist the embrace, rather she sank into it, allowing herself the luxury of letting go, if only briefly. She laid her head on the tall woman's breast, hearing the rapidly beating heart and knowing that she caused the thundering that she heard there.

Putting a hand on Jo's chest, she pushed back. Sitting up again, she looked into the distraught face of her new friend. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Jo opened her mouth to speak, an objection obviously about to be voiced. Rocky raised her hand. "We both need time to come to terms with this."

"I don't." Jo knew she was pleading.

"I do. I have a lot of things to think about." She patted Jo's hand, and opened the car door. Snow blew in and she quickly reached into the back seat and pulled out her jacket. She put it on as she ran around the front of the car to Jo's side. "No, don't get out," she said as she saw Jo opening her door.

Jo shut the door and pushed the button to lower the window. She waited while Rocky retrieved her bags from the boot and then returned, bending at the waist to speak to the sitting woman.

"Tomorrow then?" said Rocky, having to raise her voice over the sound of the wind and the traffic.

Jo nodded, not trusting her voice.

Rocky gave her a smile, and leaned in, giving her another peck on the cheek.

And then she was gone. Disappearing into what was rapidly turning into a blizzard with frightening ease.

Jo leaned her head back against the headrest. "Heaven help me," she said to herself.

Rocky slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way into the factory which had been something like a home to her for the past year or so. Her little lean-to was still there, but she'd need something extra tonight because of the severe weather. She put her bags down beneath the panelling and went in search of something to give her some extra protection against the high winds.

As she picked her way across the debris strewn floor, she thought back to her day with Jo. A smile found its way to her face, and she chuckled to herself, remembering one particularly funny story Jo had told. She was glad that the elderly waitress had left them at that point, not knowing what she would have thought about twelve naked young women in a boarding school swimming pool at midnight. Jo's excuse that they were practising synchronised swimming routines fell on deaf ears, and Jo was off to her fourth school in as many years.

The fact that Rocky had survived the past five or so years on the streets bore testament to her vigilance when it came to her own safety. So maybe it was the fact that she'd just spent a day unlike any other since she'd arrived in London that caused her alertness to slip.

She was almost upon the five men before she heard their lowered voices. Their two cars were parked at the rear of the derelict building, the boot of one raised. Five faces turned to regard her as she turned the corner, and in the headlights of the two cars she saw their faces turn towards her.

In the hands of one of the men was a large package, and Rocky's eyes flitted to it before returning to his face.

She realised immediately that she had stumbled on some sort of drug deal, and spun quickly, darting back into the shell of the decimated building.

She heard the men behind her, their angry shouts loud in the empty building, and flew across the debris, her lightness making easy work of the obstacles in her way. She was further into the body of the factory than she'd ever been, and in parts the floor groaned beneath her feet. She flattened herself against a wall, and listened.

She smiled as she heard their howls of outrage as they stumbled on the remains of the factory floor, and listened to their mumbles of: "It's just some tramp, probably too drunk to know what was going on." They breathed heavily in the cold air, the snow drifting through what was left of the roof onto their heads.

She heard the men stand for a while, listening for any movement. Then they shuffled out of the building.

Rocky waited until she heard the car doors slam and the cars drive away. Waiting a few moments more, she made her way cautiously out of her hiding place.

She'd taken only a few steps when she felt the floor beneath her feet shift, and then she was twisting in thin air and bracing herself for the impact as the floor gave way.

In another part of the factory two old men heard a cry, and then silence. They returned to searching for wood for their fire.

Jo went back into the bathroom, testing the water that was pouring into the tub. She'd had the ridiculously huge tub put in last year, even having to have the floor reinforced to accommodate it. She'd added her aromatherapy oils to the water, and had poured herself a large drink.

She threw her clothes onto the floor of the bathroom and eased her long frame into the water.

Relaxing back against the tub she reached out and grasped her glass, almost dropping it into the bath.

"Oh, bliss," she hissed, and, with a smile on her face, thought back to the wonderful day she'd just spent. Only one thing spoilt the day, of course. The small blonde of her musings wasn't sharing the experience with her now.

"Soon," she said to herself. "Very soon."

Jo lay in the bath, the water covering her to the tip of her chin. She reached out with her toe and turned the tap, letting some more hot water into the bath.

She'd been luxuriating for just over an hour. The cold had got to her, and she was glad of the warmth and comfort that seeped into her bones from the water's heat.

But the thought of Rocky out in the cold night was never far away. Taking another sip of her drink, she decided that tomorrow she'd insist upon the girl coming back with her. She'd make up the spare room - not that she really wanted her in there, and would insist that Rocky at least came to look at it.

"No," she said to herself. "I want you with me."

She drained the glass and decided that she should really be getting out. Her skin was pruning, and she was feeling lethargic.

She stepped out of the bath, and put on a robe that was hanging on the back of the door. Putting the shiver she felt across the back of her neck down to the cooler air hitting her body as she exited the steamy bathroom, she made her way down the stairs to the lounge.

It was almost 8pm, and she picked up the remote and switched on the TV.

She wanted to go to bed. Like a child on Christmas Eve, she wanted tomorrow to come, and quickly. But she knew if she did, she'd lie awake thinking about a small blonde who had felt so right, so naturally right, in her arms.

She smiled at the thought, and curled her body up on the sofa, laying her head on the arm and hugging a cushion close.

So Rocky felt it too. She smiled at the thought.
She said she wants me.
She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. The television flickered in the corner, unwatched. Jo closed her eyes and saw in her mind's eye the face of the woman she'd been seeking all her life but had only just come to realise the fact.

She'd never before had any compulsion to take one of her relationships with the many women she'd met any further than sexual gratification. She bedded them, and as soon as they started talking about commitment, she called it off.

One of the people who understood that and used it to her advantage was Trixi. Trixi knew that she could use Jo, and knew damn well that Jo used her.

However, Trixi was finding Jo's recent reluctance to partake of her particular pleasures somewhat hard to accept. Jo knew that. And the thought that she could use Rocky the way she'd used Trixi, the way she'd used many women, sickened her. Suddenly her life, her existence sickened her. And what would Rocky think when she found out? Could she keep her past a secret? Did she want to? At what point did it no longer become fun? She'd enjoyed the hunt, the seduction, the conquest. Now her main ambition in life was to get one small woman out of the cold and into her life.

She wanted to get up and go out. Now. She wanted to go and find Rocky, throw her into her car and bring her home.

But she wouldn't. Rocky wouldn't respect her if she imposed her will on the blonde. The decision had to be Rocky's, and she would abide by that decision, however hard it was to take.

She surrounded herself in the warmth that thoughts of Rocky inspired. Drifting off in the comfort of her home, she dreamt of sea-green eyes and the promise of soft skin under her hands. She dreamt of full lips caressing her own, and of small hands exploring her body. She dreamt of burying her face in silken hair, drawing in the scent of the blonde as she traced a delicate ear with her tongue.

Oh yes, she would love this woman, and she would be anything and everything the blonde wanted.

Some two hours later, Jo awoke with a start. She looked at the clock, and found it to be just after 10pm. She didn't know what had woken her, and stared uncomprehendingly at the TV. A particularly violent film was showing - men hanging bloodied and battered from a ceiling.

Only half awake, she switched off the TV and made her shuffling way up to bed. She chuckled to herself as she snuggled down into the comfort of her thick quilt. Suddenly realising that, only a week ago, at this time of night, she would just be entering into another night's hunting. Like some sort of predator, she would be stalking her usual hunting grounds, looking for prey.

What a difference a weekend makes.

She was having a beautiful dream. In it she was with Rocky; what she was doing to Rocky was interesting, but the annoying sound she could hear just wouldn't go away.

She slapped her hand at the alarm, before she remembered she never set the radio-alarm that sat on the bedside cabinet. Her sleep-fogged brain tried to comprehend what the noise was. Then she realised - it was the phone. She reached over and picked up the handset, listening to the babbling she heard as soon as she lifted the handset.

"... not working, never did like using these newfangled things."

"Hello?" said Jo. Whoever was on the other end obviously wasn't paying attention. She looked at the glowing numbers on the radio-alarm. 02.26. "Hello!" she shouted.

"Hello, hello," the voice repeated.

"Who is this?"

"Jo?"

"Yes. Edna?" A knot of fear twisted in Jo's chest. "Edna, is Rocky alright?"

"Jo?"

"Yes, Edna. What is it? Is it Rocky?"

"I can't hear you."

Jo sat up, pushing the quilt aside and dragging her hand through her tangled hair. Her heart began to beat quickly, a hundred different scenario's forming in her imagination.

"Edna," she shouted. "Can you hear me?"

"Jo?... I can't hear you, Jo. But if you can hear me, come to the old leather works near Bethnal Green...."

The old woman's voice was replaced by the dialling tone, and Jo threw the offending object across the room, flinching when she heard it hit the wall and bounce across the floor.

She picked up the clothes she'd had on earlier that day from where she'd thrown them. Putting them on quickly, she grabbed her jacket, hat and gloves from their place in the hall and, without tying her bootlaces, rushed down the stairs. She narrowly avoided slipping as she left the warmth of the house, and opened the garage door using the remote control.

Not waiting for the car to warm up, as her father had always taught her, she reversed out of the garage, narrowly avoiding reversing into another parked car as her tyres refused to grip on the ice.

As she drove through deserted streets, she suddenly realised she had no idea where the old leather works were.

She did, however, know where Bethnal Green was. There was a particularly popular nightclub that she frequented occasionally, and so she found herself in Bethnal Green quite quickly. "Old leather works," she said to herself. It must be an old factory, probably not used anymore.

Was this where Rocky lived? She shivered at the thought. She'd never really taken the time to think where Rocky spent her nights. She hoped that maybe she squatted in an empty house or something. Not in a derelict building.

She drove around in circles for a half-hour, looking for something that would point her in the right direction. Then she saw the high fence, with a barbed wire top. Signs warning of prosecution for trespassers and of an unsafe structure were every few yards on the fence. The original, huge iron gates stood in the centre of the fence. She parked her car under a streetlight, and, after locking the Merc, made her way to them. Above the gates, cast in wrought iron, were the words: 'Mitchell Tannery'.

She peered through the gates and on the other side an old man came shuffling forward. "You lookin' fer Edna?"

"Yes." Jo gripped the cold metal of the gates, pushing against them in her desperation.

"You won't get through `ere." He pointed to his right. "Go down about fifty yard. There's a hole in the fence. Slip of a lass like you should get through there no trouble."

Jo was gone before he had the chance to tell her he'd meet her at the opening.

The hand that took her by the arm as she crawled through the fence took her by surprise, but then she looked up into the grizzled face of the old man. He smiled at her, showing a couple of dirty teeth, and then beckoned to her to follow.

"Watch your step," he said, as he led her across the old factory floor, startling a couple of pigeons into the air. The area was lit only by a few bonfires casting a golden glow across the walls. A steadily thickening layer of snow covered the ground, making it even more difficult to navigate a safe path through the debris.

Edna stood as she approached, and Jo saw the hunched figure of Rocky slumped against the wall behind her.

Edna managed to intercept the rapidly moving woman, putting her hands on her upper arms. "She's hurt, Jo. Be careful."

Jo slowed, took a couple of deep breaths and nodded. "What happened?" she asked as she crouched in front of the blonde.