One of Us (21 page)

“Ask your sister,” my father said in an even voice. “I think she has something to say.”

Aleksey looked at me. My father looked at me. The two of them were so alike. I do not know if I had really realised this before. I used to wonder how much Aleksey took after my mother, but I do not think he can have done. Not much. There was too much of my father in him. I tried to turn thoughts into words, but they blew away like ash from a bonfire and I could not speak.

“Nothing,” I said in the end. “It is nothing. Nothing at all.”

I turned and left the room so I did not have to look at them any more. I could not look at them any more.

~

When I left her, the sun had come up, and shone weak through layers of grey cloud. The girl had woken up, said that she did not feel very well, and then vomited on Corgan’s carpet. She would have been sick on me, but I moved my legs. He could afford to have his carpet cleaned more than I could wash my clothes. After that she was not sick again, although she stayed very pale. I told Corgan that her father should put her to bed, keep an eye on her and make sure she drank some water, give her some toast later on.

“She will be fine,” I said. “If he is worried, you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I do,” Corgan said. “You can rely on that. Always.”

He offered to phone me a taxi, but I walked. I wanted the time alone, without people, I wanted to be rained on and made to feel clean again. I wanted to stop thinking about the girl, about whether she knew about her father, and when she found out, what she might say. I wanted to stop thinking about how I worked for Corgan, that I was part of what he did, just as all of the others were. And I wanted to stop thinking about Daniel, and what he had tried to do, the feel of his hands on me. I could not believe it was this night, all this same night. I felt exhausted, my head hurting from what I had drunk, and whatever it was that had been in with the hash. All of my limbs ached, as if I had the flu. I wanted to lie down, and not wake up again. The thought occurred to me that this was possible. The thought also occurred to me, that this would also be preferable to anything I could think of happening next. I waited for the little voice that tells you stop thinking such things, it is stupid. But it never came.

I walked back to my hostel, because there was nowhere else for me to go. I did not look behind me, not more than once or twice. I was almost there when a shadow moved out from a doorway I thought oh God, it is Daniel, he wants to finish off what he had started before, and more, do to me what Corgan had done to him.

The shadow said, “Anna. Anna, it’s me.”

I stood on the pavement for a moment, not speaking. Then I held my arms out, and Sean came into them and I was crying and Sean was pretending very hard that he was not too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“What?” Sean said. “What you looking at me like that for?”

“I’ve missed you,” I said. “I have been so worried. And now, I am looking at you to see if I think you are OK.”

“Oh, right, this is a doctor thing is it?”

“No, this is a woman thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “And the verdict is?”

“You could do with a wash and a haircut. But you look like Sean.”

“I should hope so.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do.”

We stood there for a moment, looking at each other as if we still could not quite believe that we existed.

“We must get off the street,” I said. “Come in.” I led Sean into the back alley, hoping that the door I had left from what seemed like a year ago would still be unbolted.

I pulled at the rust-stained handle, and heaved, and the door came open. I took Sean into the room with the boilers, and the mops and the smell of bleach.

“Mmm, nice place you have here,” he said, when I switched on the light. It flickered and buzzed, but stayed on, just. “Well, it’s warm, anyway. Which beats—”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, go on, you were going to say something. Beats the places you have been since you left?”

Sean shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I’m back now.”

“So where have you been?”

Another shrug. “Here and there. It’s really not important.”

“Have you been on the streets?”

“Sort of. Not quite. Around, you know. You know what I mean. Places like this. Bus stations and doorways, sheds that get left open, there’s always places. You want to know the really depressing thing? You have to look hard, because the best places are already taken.” He shook his head, remembering something that he maybe did not want to tell me about. Not yet, anyway. “Doesn’t matter though, I’m back. I called, found you were out. Thought I’d wait for you. Didn’t realise it would be quite so long. I’m just about turned into an icicle. You’re home late. Or is it early?”

He tried to sound as if he was joking, but I knew where he was thinking I had been. “I’ve been working,” I said. “For Corgan.”

“Ahh,” Sean said, and he looked relieved. Later I would tell him that I had been at Daniel’s. And what had happened there. But not yet. “Here, give me another hug,” Sean said, and he jumped down and wrapped his arms around me. I thought of Daniel’s hands on me, and I shrank within his arms. Sean let go, stepped back.

“Sorry,” he said, going red in the face and waving his hands about a lot the way he always did when he was embarrassed. “I didn’t mean—there was no—Christ, Anna, I’m not trying it on, I, I...”

“I know,” I said. “Sean, I am sorry. It is not you.” He looked like a child who has pulled the wrapping from his Christmas present and found an empty box.

“Don’t you trust me?” Sean asked, and I wanted to cry.

“Yes,” I said, and then I did.

“Something’s happened,” he said, his voice thick. “Somebody’s...Corgan.”

I shook my head.

“What?”

I shook my head.

“It is...it is nothing. I was at Daniel’s.”

Sean made a face, like he wanted to spit. “I’ll kill him.”

“He had been good to me, when you were...when you were gone.”

“I’ll bet he was.”

“He helped me look for you, Sean. Do not be angry with me, please. I had no-one.”

Sean looked down at his feet.

“Sorry,” I said. “I did not mean...but it was difficult, and he was kind to me, and I thought that I could trust him.”

Sean worked his jaw as if he was chewing gum. He wanted to say something, but could not. He finally got the words out.

“And...did he..?”

“No,” I said. “He didn’t. But I think he was going to.” I told him all that had happened. Afterwards he was quiet for a long time.

“Oh, Anna,” he said in the end. “I’m so sorry I left you to all that.”

“If you had not, things would have been worse. I do not want to talk about the things that have happened. I want to talk about what we do next.”

“Go to the police,” he said. “About that scum Daniel. He’s got to pay for what he did, and he might give them something on Corgan.”

“No,” I said. “No police. No police, no trials, no questions, no poisoning of the truth with was I doing this, was I wearing that, making me a slut. No police. Police will find out who I am. That I am not legal here. I am not legal here, Sean. If they find that out, it means something even worse than Daniel.”

Sean missed what I had just told him. “He’s going to pay,” he said.

“Don’t,” I said. “Do
not
.”

“What?”

“Even think about doing anything.”

“He—”

“I know,” I said. “I know what he did. But Sean, you do not get to decide, do you hear me? It is me. It happened to me. I decide. And I decide you don’t do anything stupid. And the same goes with Corgan too. Promise me.”

Sean said nothing, just looked down.

“Promise me!”

Sean turned and kicked a bucket, sending it clattering along the floor. “Bastard.”

“Please!” I said, all snot and shaking hands. “Do not kick, do not shout, too aggressive, it makes me, it makes me feel...” But I could not go on, and I sat on the floor and cried and cried, and Sean sat down very quietly, near me but not touching me, and he just stayed there while I cried and he stayed there when I had finished crying and we sat in that room with the smell of bleach and the jerky roar of the boilers and we did not say anything at all.

After a long time, I said, “Thank you.”

Sean nodded. “Not sure what for, but whatever, you’re welcome.”

I was not sure what for either, but I meant it. For everything, I think.

~

Sean looked like he had not slept for days. His face was pale, his eyes ash in the snow. But there was something different about him too.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said. He put his hands on to the metal drainer next to the sink, lifted himself up and sat there, in the middle of the bottles of bleach and a pile of scourers.

“You did. I was so—you had me so—you bastard. I didn’t know what had happened to you.”

“Sorry,” Sean said, wincing. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”

“You could have phoned, to let me know that you are all right, you could have left a message, you could—” I stopped. I did not want anger, not now. “I missed you, Sean. And I am glad that you are back. And I am glad that I have seen you. But you have to go again, now. You must go again, disappear, not come back.”

He shook his head, looking stubborn, like a child.

“Sean, you have to. You don’t understand, Corgan thinks you were working with Elena, he is after you, if he finds you...”

“Anna, I’ve come back.”

“I know, you said, and I said I am glad, but—”

“You don’t understand,” he said gently. “I’ve never come back before.”

I stopped talking, looked at him. He smiled a sad little smile.

“Never, not once,” he said. “But I did this time. So I’m not going to run away and leave you, Anna.”

“But Corgan—”

“I’ve been thinking about this, Anna, while I’ve been away, thinking about nothing else.” I do not think that Sean had heard a word that I had said. “I let you down. Like I’ve always done. All that’s happened to you while I was gone, hiding out, like a coward.”

“Forget about me,” I said.

“No,” Sean said firmly, as if now I was the child. “I can’t do that. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

I stared at him for a little while in anger and frustration and happiness.

“So,” I said in the end. “You’ve still got the recording?”

“Mmm, the recording,” Sean said.

“What? You have not lost it, Sean, please tell me you have not. We need that, it is our only weapon.”

He shook his head. “Never was.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the recorder.

“I don’t understand.”

“I haven’t lost it, because it never was, Anna.” Sean turned the recorder over and over in his hands.

“Sean?”

He smiled a sad smile. “I told her to listen to me. But...” he shrugged. “So there’s no recording.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t listen to it for ages. Couldn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to do it, to hear what might be on there. And when I did...”

He held it up, pressed a button.

I waited.

There was nothing.

I waited some more, willing it to make noise, to hear voices, movements, the creak of a bed. But there was nothing.

“It has been recorded over?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it was ever recorded in the first place. I told her to pay attention while I showed her how it worked. I should have insisted, made her listen. Anna, I don’t think she switched it on properly. There was nothing on there, not even sound like it had been recorded over. Nothing.”

“So all that...”

“Yes,” Sean said. “Yes. All of that for nothing.”

I went to say something else, but I could not think of anything to say.

“Sorry,” he said, and he clicked the recorder off.

I took it from him, studied it as if I might unlock some secret that would make it play, something that he had overlooked. There was nothing. I closed my eyes for a moment, and thought of Elena.

“It is not your fault. Well, that is done. While you have been away thinking all of this thinking, have you thought of another way in which we can get out of this?” I stuck the recorder in my pocket. We could sell it to one of those shops that bought and sold old and stolen things. At least it might buy us lunch.

“I’ve thought a lot about it,” he said.

“And?”

“Not really got any good ideas yet.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

We stayed there in silence for a little while.

“Well, one idea,” he said.

“It is one more than we have now.”

“Come with me, Anna. Leave.”

“No,” I said. “And that is that.”

“No, no it isn’t. Look, what is the point in staying Anna? Come with me, come away—”

“Elena is the point in staying.”

“Elena’s dead,” Sean said, angry. “She’s dead and yes, it’s our fault, but nothing we do is going to bring her back. So what, you want to end up like her? Will that change anything? Course it won’t. She’ll still be dead. And so will you.”

“You don’t understand,” I said.

“Too fucking right.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is.” I do not think I had seen Sean this angry. Not with me, anyway. “It’s as simple as it gets. Dead. Alive. Dead. Alive. There you go, simple enough for you?”

“Sean, please—”

“We can
win
, Anna. On our terms. No we can’t bring Elena back, and no, we can’t get at Corgan but we stay alive, he doesn’t get us, that’s a win. We can do that right now. We leave here, right now, get a coach, hitch, whatever, stop off in some random town and sleep in the bus station, then go round the places like Peter’s, find a job soon enough, get a place, one room somewhere, I’ll sleep on the floor, I don’t care, it’s a shit life but we’d be living it, and who knows, we might even make something of it. Run Anna. With me. Now.”

“I cannot run, Sean. I cannot do that. You can—”

“Don’t you even say it.” He jabbed a finger in my face. “Not when I’ve just come back. Don’t you even suggest it. Do you know how much it hurts when you say that? That you think I’d do that? Is that what you really think of me, even now, when I’ve come back? That I’d just fuck off without you, just like that? Is that what you really think of me? I came back for you, Anna. For you.”

He was so angry that I was scared. He turned away and kicked at the side of the sink.

“Fucking hell,” he said, part in anger and part in frustration and part, I think, because he had just smashed his toes.

“You want to know why I cannot run?” I said. “Very well. I will tell. And when I tell you, then you will understand. And then you will leave.”

Sean turned, about to say something, but then he saw my face, and he did not say anything. I took a breath, and then another. I did not know where to start. And then I told him.

“I am dirty, Sean. Stained. I have never told you my father’s business. So now I do: he was a man like Corgan.”

Sean looked at me, opened his mouth, closed it again.

“There, dirty. Everything I had, my dresses, my cat, my bicycle, my birthday cakes, medical school, everything, paid for out of money he made taking girls like Elena and shipping them out to men like Corgan. Dirty money, dirty girl.” I picked and pulled at the skin next to my fingernails, felt the pain, and it felt honest, real. No lies in pain. “He found girls. That was what he did, it was an employment agency, that is what he told people. For those who wanted to get work abroad. He promised them work in bars, modelling, whatever. But you know where they will have ended up, with men like Corgan, and they ended up like Elena, lying on their backs while some married man did what his wife would not let him do, and I bought pretty dresses and I closed my eyes and I closed my ears and I pretended that I did not know what it was he did. My brother worked for him, Sean. Funny, kind Aleksey who looked after his kid sister and picked me up when I was little and I cried. He worked for my father, too. And why not, it was the family business.”

“Anna—”

I shook my head. “Not finished.” My fingers started to bleed, and I kept on picking. “I was nineteen when I knew for sure, but I spent a couple of years before that making sure that me and the truth could not meet. I knew, Sean, and for years I said nothing.”

“And then you said something?”

I laughed. “Oh, yes. Brave Anna. We argued, about a boy I was seeing at medical school, my father did not like him, thought he was distracting me from my studies, and the argument became one of those that is about everything and nothing. And at last I found the courage to speak about what I knew.”

It was only five words, but once said they could not be unsaid, and saying them changed my world forever. I did not realise this when I said them, but as soon as I stopped speaking, I knew. Nothing could ever be the same again.

“I know what you do,” I said.

My father looked at me calmly. He pushed his glasses back up his nose.