Moth Girls (14 page)

She decided to wait. She bought chips and put the telly on and for a second night she slept on the sofa.

The next day, in the afternoon, he came home. He slumped into the hallway, leaning against one of the walls. She could smell the alcohol from him. Every time he moved it seemed to waft out of him. He mumbled something and made his way to his bedroom and lay face down on the bed, in his clothes. He seemed to go to sleep immediately. Later, during the evening, he came out of his room and looked at her sheepishly. She didn’t say anything to him, she just kept her eyes on the television programme. He sat down in the armchair, his elbows on his knees. He looked fidgety, his legs moving up and down.

‘Sorry, Petra,’ he said.

All of a sudden she couldn’t speak. She was filled up with emotion. The worry of the last two days clamped around her throat. She couldn’t even look at him. Somewhere among everything else there was anger. He left her alone! What if something had happened to her? What would he say then?

‘All right, Petra?’

She kept her face turned away from him. Her only movement was the blink of her eye. She stared at the screen, her eyes blurring.

‘I need a drink,’ he said and stood up.

That was it. That was the extent of his apology. She swivelled round and watched him go. From the kitchen she heard him opening and closing cupboard doors. He was looking for a bottle of vodka that she’d seen on the shelf that morning. He wouldn’t find it because she’d poured it away and taken the bottle down to the recycling bin. She walked out to the kitchen and watched him.

‘I don’t think you should drink any more,’ she said, her voice trembling.

He was still wearing the clothes he’d gone out in on Friday. His jacket and trousers were wrinkled. He spun round to her.

‘I got rid of the vodka,’ she said.

He looked at her in disbelief.

‘What?’

‘I didn’t want you to drink it.’

‘Who do you think you are? Just a kid! You don’t tell me what to do.’

‘Gran said that you drank too much …’

He stepped across to her. She closed her lips tight as if she might stop herself saying anything else. He seemed to loom over her. She could smell him. The fumes of the drinks he’d swallowed in the last two days and nights hit her. She felt nauseous.

‘Where is it, miss?’ he said, his voice cracking.

‘It’s gone. It’s down the sink.’

‘You stupid … You stupid …’

‘You left me on my own,’ she said, her voice rising, querulous.

He turned away, mumbling to himself. He had the heels of his hands on his forehead and was shaking his head as if trying to get rid of some thought that was inside it.

‘If Gran knew you’d left me …’ she said weakly.

‘Shut up!’

‘Gran would never …’

‘SHUT UP!’

He grabbed her by the top of her arm and thrust her out of the kitchen.

‘Don’t touch my drink,’ he said. ‘Don’t ever touch my drink ever again.’

His fingers were digging into her skin as he manhandled her up the hallway. With one foot he kicked open her bedroom door and propelled her into the room. She lost her footing and hit the side of the wardrobe with a thud, her forehead knocking onto the corner of the wood. She saw stars and staggered back. Then it went black, as if the light had been snatched away. When she opened her eyes again she was on the floor and her dad was looking down at her with fear on his face. She tried to raise her head but it felt heavy like a beanbag.

He took her to A & E.

She’d passed out for a few moments so she had to see a doctor, he said. She could tell them that she’d tripped and fallen over, he said, because in a way that was what had happened. He was only taking her to her room after all, he hadn’t meant for her to actually
hurt
herself. He called one of his mates to come and pick them up and then soon after they were sitting in A & E. She felt like she had a big headache, but worst of all was the feel of his fingers at the top of her arm. She glanced down and saw the marks. It had hurt. It still hurt.

The doctors sent for the social worker and she was kept in hospital for two nights. When she was allowed home the flat had been cleaned and her dad and two social workers were there. Her dad hadn’t been well, they said, and he’d agreed to go and see a counsellor. He would not be drinking and he would certainly never lay a finger on her again. They would call in twice a week and she was to contact them at any time. They bustled out of the flat, leaving cards with phone numbers on, and when they’d gone her dad had stood up and asked her if she wanted sausages for tea. And crinkle-cut chips.

She’d thought, after going to A & E, that everything would be all right.

But her dad was always good at disappointing her.

She watched the house on Princess Street all week.

Every day of the half-term holiday she made it her business to pass it half a dozen times. On the way to Tina’s she stopped and looked in at the garden. On the way out to the shops she’d find some excuse to drag Tina and Mandy over to it, all the time keeping an eye out for the angry next-door neighbour. On her way home from Tina’s she would see if maybe her dad’s cab was there. The newsagent’s shop was a good place to stand and stare. Or she simply walked up and down the street, passing it like a guard on duty. She seemed to forget everything else in her life. Zofia’s departure to Poland slipped to the back of her mind and she thought only about her dad and wondered what he was going to do and whether there was anything she could do to stop it.

She wanted to tell Tina but Mandy was always around. Another part of her didn’t want to tell anyone because it was like opening a box where everything might pour out, not just his plan to rob an old man but the
way
he was, how quick he was to use his hands to get people to do what he wanted. Tina half knew about it anyway, but how could she tell her the rest? And the thought of Mandy finding out made her ashamed. Mandy with her mum and dad, her nice bag and highlighter pens. ‘My mum and dad are having a Halloween party and you can come for a sleepover if you like!’ Mandy would love to know about the cracks in Petra’s life. She couldn’t be a member of The Red Roses but she could luxuriate in Petra’s misery.

She thought of making an anonymous phone call to the police.

How would it help though? If they arrived and there was no sign of trouble then they would dismiss it as a prank. If they got there and found her dad and Nathan Ball threatening the old man they’d arrest them both and then Petra would go into foster care.

She didn’t know what to do. So she watched the house. As the days went by she spent more time along Princess Street. She walked up one side and then down the other. She stood at the newsagent’s, staring at it. She pretended to look at gardens and cars and still she walked up and down and paused sometimes outside the crumbling house.

She hardly saw her dad. He was working. He left her money every day to buy lunch, to go out with her friends. ‘Whatever you do,’ he’d said, ‘don’t go near that Polish bitch.’ The vehemence of his words distressed her. She thought about going round and telling Zofia but then decided that there was no point. What could she do? She had no influence on him.

So she continued to view the house on Princess Street. She had no idea what was happening there in the hours when she wasn’t looking at it. She didn’t know if her dad and Nathan Ball had been inside and found Mr Merchant’s money already. Still she stared and loitered and pulled Tina and Mandy past the house.

On Thursday, just before one o’clock, she saw Nathan Ball coming along on the opposite side of the road. She went to walk on but stopped and turned to face the window of the newsagent’s where the board with the postcards sat. She stared at cards selling second-hand washing machines and baby buggies and worried about what Nathan Ball was doing in the street.

Then she went inside the shop and bought a can of drink. She stood by the glass door and looked out. She could see that Nathan Ball was in a jeans jacket and had his hands in the pockets as though it were a cold day. He was strolling along as if he had nowhere particular to go. At least it looked like that, but Petra thought it was as if he was
acting
as though he had nowhere to go. He stopped in the middle of the pavement and pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. As he did it he looked backwards down the street. He turned and gazed in the direction of the newsagent’s. He was checking that no one was around. He pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips. Then he felt around his jeans pockets and pulled out a lighter. He lit the cigarette and continued walking.

He went in through the gate of Mr Merchant’s house. He was out of her line of sight so she went outside the shop and moved along a few metres, alongside a post box. She watched him walk up to the front door, ducking past some overgrown bushes. He knocked on the door, then he backed away and looked over at the downstairs window. Petra strained her eyes to see but she couldn’t make out anyone at the window. She remembered, for a moment, Mr Merchant waving at
her
through the glass. Nathan Ball edged along to the window and looked in. Then he came out of the garden. His face was heavy with annoyance and he was using his hand to flick off leaves from his clothes. The cigarette was gone and she wondered if he’d dropped it, carelessly, in the long grass. He stood in the street for a few moments and pulled out a mobile phone. He pushed some buttons and started talking. She couldn’t hear his voice but his finger was pointing in mid-air and he was flexing his shoulders as if he was arguing with someone. She wondered if it was Mr Constantine or maybe her dad. When he finished he walked off the way he had come.

Her can of drink was almost full but she dropped it into the rubbish bin.

What was he doing?

When she got to Tina’s, Mandy was already there. It looked as if she’d been there for a while as there were pages of sketches of The Red Roses. She heard Mandy saying, ‘We’ve been doing this, Petra. Have a look and see what you think.’

Petra glanced at the drawings but really she couldn’t be bothered. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, ‘I’m not in The Red Roses any more. You two do it!’ She didn’t though. Tina’s mum came in with some sandwiches and bags of crisps and left them on the table.

They spent the afternoon watching a DVD and listening to some music. Petra slipped out once, just after three, supposedly to go home and get a particular CD. She walked up and down in front of the house. The living room window looked still. The house looked calm but there was an air of something bad. The bushes in the garden seemed to bristle and thicken in front of her and the fading roses were swooning, letting their petals peel off in the breeze. It was Thursday: the day Mr Constantine wanted his money. Walking back to Tina’s, Petra felt a feeling of foreboding. Something bad was going to happen.

‘You’ve been a long time. Where’s the CD?’ Mandy said.

‘I couldn’t find it.’

Both Tina’s and Mandy’s faces were flushed with the heat of the house. Mandy continued talking about the Halloween party and brought out the Argos catalogue, showing pages of phones. After looking at them they began to flick through and talk about what else they would buy. It was gone five and Petra could stand no more. She told them she needed some air. She suggested they go to the newsagent’s. Tina leapt up and grabbed her mum’s hoodie from the bannister. Mandy didn’t look as though she wanted to go out but she came anyway. All the way to Princess Street Petra heard the chatter between Tina and Mandy from far away, as if she were listening to them from another room. It was getting dark as they walked towards the newsagent’s. When she stopped she looked keenly up and down the pavements as if she might find Nathan Ball standing there, lurking around the front garden of Mr Merchant’s house.

Instead she saw something else.

A white van was parked across the road from the house and Nathan Ball was sitting in the driver’s seat, his phone clamped to his ear. His window was open and his elbow was half out of it. He was staring intently at number fifty-three, his lips moving now and then.

‘What do you think, Petra?’

She heard Mandy’s whining voice like an annoying insect in her ear.

Why was Nathan Ball there, in a van? To get money from Mr Merchant?

‘What?’ Petra said sharply to Mandy.

‘I just said that maybe you and Tina – The Red Roses – could sing at my mum’s Halloween party?’

Petra looked up and down the street. She ought to do something.

‘Just after the barbecue, when everyone’s eating, you could sing a couple of songs. I could introduce you –’

‘I think we should go into the house,’ Petra heard herself say. ‘We’ve been talking about it for weeks.’

What she meant was,
I’ve been talking about it for weeks
.

‘The house? What house?’ Mandy said, looking put out.

‘The old house,’ she said, pointing across the street at it, keeping one eye on the white van.

‘Now? Why?’

‘Yes, now. Right now. The three of us can just slip in and out. There’s a key round the back, on a hook by the door. We’ll just let ourselves in, have a quick look around and then scoot back out again. Remember, the old man sleeps a lot.’

‘That’s creepy. Why would we do it?’

Because if we go in there I can tell Mr Merchant some men are going to break into his house. I can tell him to call the police. I don’t have to mention my dad. When the police car comes it will keep them away and Thursday will be gone and Mr Constantine will go back to wherever he came from.

She said something different.

‘To see if it’s haunted. Come on. Before we get cold feet.’

She could tell them the truth. Why not? But she looked at Mandy and saw an expression of disdain on her face as though she thought Petra was an idiot. She could also see that Mandy was trying to catch Tina’s eye. To pull her into her way of thinking. But Tina would never choose Mandy over her.

Just then there was the sound of an engine starting up. The white van had its indicator light on. Nathan Ball had closed the window and the van was moving away from the pavement. He was leaving. Petra didn’t know how to feel about it. Was it a good sign?

‘Anyway, it’ll be completely dark soon …’ Mandy said, looking round.

‘That’s why we should go in now. Get in and out, quickly,’ Petra said.

She had to go now, while Nathan Ball was out of the street. She hooked her arm through Tina’s. It felt a bit stiff at first but then it yielded. They were both looking at Mandy. If they were quick they could go in and Petra could tell Mr Merchant that someone was going to come and rob him. Then it would be up to him what he did about it. Unless he was asleep. She had no idea what she would do then. A feeling of panic, of time moving too quickly, was worming around inside her. Nathan Ball could come back at any minute.

‘Come on,’ Petra said, making the decision.

She began to walk in the direction of the house. Tina came along with her, light as a feather. Mandy followed but in a slow way. For every two steps Petra and Tina took Mandy took only one. She seemed to drift off from them, as if they were in two boats and she were floating the other way.

‘Aren’t you coming?’ Petra said.

Mandy shook her head as Petra pulled Tina into the front garden.

‘You’d better go home then!’ Petra said.

Mandy stood looking as though she’d lost something. Tina gave a little wave and she turned and walked off. Petra watched her go and felt a moment’s satisfaction. Tina looked pained though. Her mum’s hoodie hung off her shoulders.

They crept through the front garden, steering wide of the light from the window. Tina held back.

‘I’m not sure this is a good idea,’ Tina whispered.

‘It’s fine,’ Petra said.

She linked Tina’s arm and they walked towards the gate. She wondered if Tina was thinking of the angry neighbour who’d shouted at them. She wanted to say to her, ‘It’s dark; no one can see us!’ but Tina seemed wound up, tight as a spring. She could let her go, tell her to follow Mandy. She didn’t need Tina to go with her; she could go in on her own. She almost opened her mouth to say, ‘It’s OK, you go and keep Mandy company otherwise she’ll be in a mood.’ It would have given Tina an excuse and she wouldn’t feel that she had let Petra down.

But Petra thought of Mandy’s face when Tina showed up. She would be pleased and think that Tina chose Mandy over Petra. She would get her talking about The Red Roses or something. While Petra was edging into the dark house with its cobwebs and scuttling mice, Mandy and Tina would be standing in the warm light from the newsagent’s.