Gypsy Girl (23 page)

The marquee was in chaos. Alice’s screams as she tried to wipe the splashes off her shirt were blending in with the screams coming from Granny’s corner, as all my aunties and sisters realized there’d been a death in their midst. Tyson was trying to stop Sabrina from having hysterics. Bartley was trying to calm Beryl down. Rocky was trying to get through the crowd to me, but the manageress got to him first, demanding to know what was happening. The news was spreading fast. Even the children had sensed something was going on and were rushing in to stand and gape. None of us would be dancing under the twinkling starlight drapes tonight.

I headed for the exit. Gregory was hovering in the doorway.

“What?”

“Not now.” I pushed past him and ran outside.

Hudson was nowhere in sight. Didn’t matter. I headed for Pony’s Jeep in the car park. He must’ve saw me coming, because he got out straightaway and squared up to me. Granny was right about him being a mullo. I looked into his eyes and I saw death in them. My death. But I was so angry, so desperate, I broke all my rules and ignored the goosebumps and the hackles rising and all the danger signs.

“What was in the sack that got spilled?”

He stared blankly at me. “What sack?”

“A few days ago. When you first saw me and me granny.” He gawped at me. I wanted to hit his stupid face. “Answer me!” I thumped my fists on his chest. “You were hosing down something that got spilt. What was it?”

He still didn’t get it. His eyes flickered past me, and a footstep sounded. Suddenly I realized the danger of what I was doing, but I didn’t have time to spin round and save myself. Something cold touched the back of my neck. It felt like metal. I smelled Paco Rabanne again. It was Hudson, so close I could feel his breath on my neck. And he had a gun. Guns changed everything.

“Don’t try anything, fighter girl,” he said, quietly. He needn’t have been quiet. There was no one in the car park except us. “I told them to be patient, that we’d get you on your own at some point, away from your ridiculous family.”

“I’m not going to tell on you. I just need to know—”

He jabbed the barrel into the back of my neck. “Did you really think my dad was going to let you go free, after what you’ve seen?”

No, I didn’t. I’d always known deep down that if they got me on my own, I was dead.

“Turn round,” he said.

I spun on my heel, and Pony grabbed my arms and pinned them back. Surprise, surprise, Hudson was smiling at me. In his hands was a small, black revolver. A few feet away Milo was on sentry duty, making sure no one came over here. With his free hand, Hudson reached for the top of my dress. I kicked out at him, and he backed off, the smile leaving his face.

“I want your phone.”

“I’ll kick your head off if you try and touch me again.”

“I said, I want your phone.”

My heart began to thump. “Do I look like I’ve got room in this dress to be carrying a phone?”

“It’s down the top. You’re not as clever as you think. You gave the game away earlier.” His smile came back. “It’ll be fun getting it out.”

My skin crawled. “No. Or I scream and people will take notice. Tell that pig to take his filthy hands off me, and I’ll get it out.”

Hudson nodded at Pony, and I felt the grip on my arms release. I wriggled the phone out of my bodice. He looked smug.

“We couldn’t let you keep photo proof, now, could we?” He held out his hand for the phone.

I hesitated. “So if I give you this, are you going to let me go?”

He pulled his little-boy-sorry face. “You’re very pretty, but unfortunately, no.” He glanced at Pony. “Get it off her.”

He didn’t get the chance. I threw it as hard as I could. For a split second their eyes followed it sailing over the cars and disappearing. A split second was enough.

I punched Hudson in the face. As he sank to his knees and slumped to the ground, I stomped my daggerlike heel into the arch of Pony’s foot. He screamed and staggered backwards, hopping and swearing. I’d almost crushed the arch of his foot.

This was my chance.

I sprinted for a gap between a truck and a car, but I’d forgotten about Milo. He came racing round the back of the truck and sped towards me, his white potato face flushed now with savagery. He thought he was going to get the chance to repay me for the beating I gave him. Something glinted in his hand. A knife. Knives changed things, too – but not like a gun. Knives I could handle. I stopped. Waited. Then ran at him as he hurtled towards me. That shocked him. Milo’s way of attacking people was to run up from behind.

It was like a game of chicken. For a couple of seconds we went racing towards each other. He flinched first. He stopped and brought his blade round in a wide sweep. He had no chance. My brain was speeding, my eyesight super-sharp, my hearing intense. The adrenaline racing through my veins was doing its job. I saw the knife, a kitchen one, probably nicked from his mama, the blade sharpened so much it had a curve, spots of rust on the edge. It was coming for my face but didn’t reach it. One, two, three fast steps and I spun round in a semi-circle, a half-cartwheel, using my momentum to swing through the air with my feet flying in an arch. I kicked him in the head. I heard his jaw crack.

It was called a “jump spin hook kick”. I’d mastered it by the time I was ten. It was spectacular and effective. It destroyed my dress, nearly ripping the skirt off, as it destroyed him. He hit the ground, out cold, his nose bleeding, his lips already puffing up over his crooked jaw. A tooth sparkled on the ground.

So now I knew for sure. If they caught me, they would kill me. I’d seen too much, and I’d signed my own death warrant. They’d never had any intention of letting me live. Rocky and Bartley weren’t far away. Could I get to them? Tell them? It would mean danger for us all, but I didn’t have much choice. I turned and headed for the marquee.

But then I saw Gregory. No. He mustn’t get involved. I’d done enough damage to him. He was weaving through the cars towards me, trying to figure out what was happening. If they saw him, they might target him as well. This was all my fault, not his. I turned and ran back, away from him. To my left, I heard an engine roaring and the squeal of tyres. The Jeep came out from between two cars. Pony was driving it, his face a mask of rage. He put his foot down and aimed straight at me. I rolled under the nearest car and out the other side. The car park had a low wall at the back, and beyond it was a maze of narrow streets. If I could reach them, I could lose myself in them and find a place to hide. I glanced over my shoulder.

Hudson was back on his feet and after me. Could I outrun him in silver Jimmy Choos? I couldn’t kick them off. The ground was too rough. I ran at the low wall, his footsteps pounding behind me.

But I’d forgotten one thing: leaping a wall in a ripped bridesmaid’s dress is not easy.

I swung myself over but went flying on the landing, tripping on the trailing hem and tearing off the rest of the tulle underskirts at the knee. Good, it meant I could run faster. I picked myself up, untangled myself from the net and silk and raced off along a narrow street lined with empty buildings. There must be an alley or a yard there where I could get out of their sight.

I needed to find someone with a phone and call Rocky. It didn’t matter if he knew now. Things had gone too far. I needed help. But Hudson didn’t give me the chance. I heard him thump over the wall behind me, followed by Milo. I ran, but their footsteps were gaining on me.

I swerved into the first side street and took the first right, weaving in and out of parked cars. But they were fast like rats, and every corner I took I could hear them gaining on me. A car was coming at speed, too. It didn’t sound like the Jeep, but I couldn’t risk it. I swerved down another street, and slid under a parked car. I waited. I heard them shouting to each other.

“Where’s she gone?”

“I don’t know. Find her!”

Their footsteps got louder. I held my breath as Hudson ran round the corner and straight past me, followed by Milo a few seconds later. I peeked out. They’d rounded the next corner. I slid out and scrambled to my feet, but a car was bearing down on me at high speed. It wasn’t the Jeep or the Subaru. It screeched to a halt inches from me.

It was Gregory in an old, battered Fiat. The window slid down, and he leaned over to fling open the passenger door.

“Get in!”

“Leave me! Drive off!”

He leaned over and grabbed my hand. “Get in. Or I’ll drag you in.”

I threw myself onto the seat and swung the door shut as Gregory slammed the gears into reverse, turned round and headed off up the street, away from the direction Milo had taken. But not for long. The window was down, so I heard a furious shout, and swivelled in my seat. Hudson appeared first, yelling into his phone. And then Milo, powering after us. Gregory put his foot down and we shot away from them. They chased the car like dogs for a few yards, then stopped and ran back towards Pony’s Jeep as it slid round the corner and braked for them.

“Give me your phone and let me get out,” I shouted as he careered round a corner. “Then drive away fast, understand?”

He shook his head as he slid round a corner. “No. Tell me what’s going on. Who’s chasing you?”

I was checking the rearview mirror, but there was no sign of them yet. “It’s McCloud’s son. I saw him and McCloud in the International Express yard, unloading guns.”

Gregory glanced at me, confused. “Guns? McCloud? But he’s—”

I had to make him understand, and quickly. “Gregory, I don’t lie, not to you. He’s a criminal. He handles stolen cars and guns. And something else, something that made me granny die, and made your grandad ill.”

“But how could McCloud make them ill—”

“He did! Some kind of dust or white powder from his yard got on the blackberries. It could’ve been drugs, or poison. If he can move guns around, he’s not going to worry about health and safety, is he?”

“How do you know all this?”

“I saw them. And they saw me. They know that I know. They’ve been following me ever since.”

Gregory gave me a horrified look. “Jesus. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“No one can help me. McCloud said if I told on them, my family would suffer.”

He thumped the wheel. “No. You have to tell the police. Did you get proof?”

“I took a photo on my phone, but I threw the phone away so I could escape. If we go to the police, it’s my word against McCloud’s.”

“I’ll back you up. I saw that guy – the one with the hairstyle and the designer stuff – I saw him going for you. And the one with the ponytail who works for McCloud.”

“No. They’ll believe him, and then he’ll get my family.” He didn’t understand. How could he? “Stop and let me run.”

“No.”

He turned another corner, engine racing, changing gears fast and furiously, and gunned the Fiat along the road. “Just let me drive. I’m good. I passed first time.”

“Please, Gregory. Let me get out, and then you go and fetch Bartley and Rocky.”

“No. We stay together. We’re not far from the police station now. They can raid International Express. They can find traces of whatever’s making Pops ill. Your guys can’t do that.” He put his foot down. “Hang on.”

An image of Granny’s eyes staring down at me, sightless, dead, flashed into my mind. She’d survived for ninety years, just so that Mr McCloud could kill her. A wave of sadness and anger swept over me, but there wasn’t time to grieve, not here, not now.

I took a deep breath and prayed Gregory was right.

“OK. The police. I want Mr McCloud caught,” I said. “I want him punished.”

“I know these streets. Leave it to me.”

He hunched himself over the steering wheel. I could see a nerve twitching in his eyelid. One minute we were kissing. Now we were fleeing for our lives. All I’d done since getting here was ruin his life. He’d had a girlfriend and an unscarred face, and now look at him.

A motor turned out from a side street right behind us, but it was a transit van, not the Jeep. It was blocking my view, though, as it followed us down the road. I couldn’t see whether the Jeep was on our tail. It could be catching us up. I didn’t have to worry for long. At the next left Gregory braked, nearly sending me sliding through the windscreen, and headed off down a side road lined with warehouses, all of them closed for the weekend, the sort of place where I’d come for my fights. None of that mattered now.

“You should’ve run in the opposite direction,” I said, as Gregory urged the little Fiat forwards.

His hair was damp and his face shiny. “So was I supposed to let them get you?”

“It’s not your fight.”

“Milo jumped me from behind, remember. They kicked me. They nearly broke my ribs.”

“Because of me! This is my fault,” I said. “I should’ve moved from Gypsy’s Acre. I’ve done nothing but get us all into trouble.”

“No! This isn’t your fault. It’s McCloud’s.” Gregory shook his head. “I can’t believe he was there in our house, being all pally with my dad. Making out you were the vandals. Playing the honest businessman.”

“Exactly.” My stomach lurched. “Who’s going to believe me?”

For a moment, I thought I heard the loud diesel engine of the Jeep, but there was nothing behind us. That didn’t mean we were safe. These streets were like rat runs. There were side streets and turnings everywhere.

“They’ll believe you. I’ll tell them.”

“You’re still crazy,” I said. “Coming after me.”

He laughed. The adrenaline was running through his veins as well. Danger is like going on a roller coaster called something like Death Dive, and as it hurls you at the ground your brain thinks you’re going to die, even though you’re safely strapped in. And when you don’t die and the ride ends, you get a high, and you bounce out of the carriages screaming and laughing. We were at that point now. We’d survived the first attack, and we were free and speeding towards safety.

He glanced at me. “Crazy? Yeah, that’s about right. Crazy about you.”

I took a moment out from checking the road behind us. Our eyes met. “Me, too.”

Can you realize you love someone after knowing them for a short time? Does knowing that you might die make a kiss into something more? I did think I loved him in that moment, as he raced his rusty Fiat through the streets. He’d come to rescue me, even though he knew I was a fighter. It didn’t matter that in the real everyday world – not this nightmare one we were living in at the moment – we couldn’t be together. That I would be going back to our home behind the gym in the next town, and he would be doing whatever rich boys do – going to college, going to university, hooking up with girls like Alice. That didn’t matter any more because there was only the nightmare world now, and me and him fleeing through the streets in a little Fiat.