Shallow Be Thy Grave (10 page)

“Did anyone see you?” came a woman’s voice. Lily looked for where the voice had come from and saw a changing screen, dark with roses painted on its panels. A woman appeared from behind it, dressed in a silk dressing gown that was open at the front to reveal a bra, knickers and pair of red suspenders. Jessica Fucking Rabbit.

“What going on?” asked Lily, anger coursing through her body.

The man who’d dragged her off the street said something in a foreign language. Lily assumed it was Dutch, the first time she’d heard it spoken since she got to Amsterdam. He was bald and thin, but muscled. Lily noticed a cannabis leaf on the back of his T-shirt as he turned to leave the room. She resisted the urge to run after him.

“Are you alright?” she asked Jo.

Jo rubbed the back of her head. “Yeah, ’part from my head.” She glowered at the bouncer next to her.

“What do you want?” asked Lily, staring at the man in black. He returned her gaze but didn’t speak.

“Shut up,” said the woman. “We’re asking the questions, not you. What are you doing in Amsterdam?”

Lily scowled at her. “Looking for my sister.”

“Who’s your sister?”

“What’s it to you?”

Lily’s assailant returned. He said something to the woman and she nodded, before turning her attention back to Lily. “Who’s your sister?”

“None of your business,” said Lily.

The woman took a step towards Lily. She was wearing a pair of high heels that Lily wouldn’t have been able to stand up in, much less walk in. Lily noticed for the first time how beautiful she was. She had plumped red lips, the fattest Lily had ever seen, and a mole on her right cheek. She pulled back her arm and slapped Lily’s cheek.

Lily was used to being slapped across the cheek - it had been her mother’s favourite means of reproach - but she’d never felt a sting like it. She automatically raised her hand to her face. It felt hot beneath her fingers. “Jesus.”

“You’re costing me money,” the woman said evenly. “Don’t give me a hard time. Who the fuck is your sister?”

Jo struggled to get up off the bed, but the man next to her pushed her back down, keeping his arm on her shoulder. The other man in the cannabis T-shirt blocked the doorway. Lily turned back to face her high-heeled opponent.  They were about the same height. Lily taller if it wasn’t for the heels. “She’s called Fiona.”

“English, right?”

Lily rubbed her cheek, and felt a small trace of blood. She looked at the woman’s hands, saw that she was wearing a ring with something that looked like a ruby in it, although a stone that size had got to be fake. “So what?”

“Who told you about Frank?”

“A friend.”

The woman slapped her again, this time on the other cheek. Lily nearly fell over.

Anger rose like a volcano in her and Lily sprang forward, grabbed for the woman’s neck. Immediately the guy in the cannabis T-shirt was behind her, pinning Lily’s arms to her sides.  She couldn’t move. The woman was staring into Lily’s eyes, her face so close Lily could smell her smoky breath.

“Do what Greta tells you,” said the man. “Or you will get harm.”

Lily spat with as much force as she could muster. The woman stepped back and then lunged at Lily. Lily ducked her head. “She’s called Grace,” said Jo. “She’s a friend of Lily’s sister’s.”

Greta, if that was her name, collected herself. She wiped Lily’s spit from her face, not taking her eyes off Lily. “Where is she, this Grace?”

“In Paris,” said Jo.

“Paris?” Still the woman was staring at Lily like there was no one else in the room.

“Lily’s sister’s been working in Paris,” Jo continued, the words seeming to rush out of her. “Only she left her job and she’s disappeared. Her mate, Grace said she’d come to Amsterdam, to work for a guy called Frank in a café called Choice Exact. With another girl. That’s why we’re here.”

“Who’s this other girl?”

Lily shook her arms, trying to flick the man off. Greta nodded at him and he released Lily. Lily rubbed her forearms, trying to rid herself of the red fingerprints that marked her skin. “She’s called Brigitte.”

“I don’t know a Brigitte.”

Lily took the photograph from her pocket and handed it across to Greta. “All I’m trying to do is find my sister. Her granddad’s died.”

“Don’t you mean your granddad?” Greta pounced, like she’d spotted a flaw in Lily’s explanation. She ignored the photo Lily was holding out. “If she was your sister, you would say ‘our granddad has died.’”

Lily shrugged, letting her hand fall to her side, still holding the photo. “She’s my half-sister. Same dad. Same difference.”

The Dutch woman stuck out her bottom lip, like she was trying to decide whether to believe Lily. “What do you know about Frank?”

“Nothing. Just he was supposed to be giving them a job. That’s what Grace said. But we went to the café and no one’s heard of him.”

The woman looked across to the man who’d abducted Lily. He’d taken up a position on the stool in the window. “Passports,” he said.

“I’m not giving you my fucking passport,” said Lily.

“I only want to see it,” said Greta. “To know you are who you say you are.”

Jo had fallen silent. Lily pulled a face at her, like give them the passports. The man guarding Jo took his hand off her shoulder, so that she could rummage in her bag.

“How did your sister meet this Brigitte?”

“Some political festival thing, last September,” Lily turned to Jo. “What was it called?”

“La Fete d’la humanities,” said Jo.

The man handed their passports back to Jo. He nodded.

“Is this Brigitte?” The woman showed Lily a photograph of two women dressed in silk gowns, laughing to the camera. They both had bright red lipstick on, pouting and pulling pretend kisses. Lily recognised Greta as being one of the women in the photograph. She was pretty sure Brigitte was the other.

Lily held up her own photograph and compared the two, side by side. Greta peered at the picture too, so close that her hair brushed against Lily’s. “Looks like it,” said Lily.

“I think so too,” said Greta.

“So, you know her?”

“Where is she?”

“I told you - that’s what we’re trying to find out. According to my er, dad, they’ve gone inter-railing. Grace said they were coming here. The woman in Choice Exact said she’d never heard of either of them. Then again, she said she’d never heard of Frank, but obviously the message got out somehow.”

Greta smiled as Lily rubbed her cheek again. “Ok, sorry to scare you ladies. You can go.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your stay in Amsterdam-”

“You kidnap us, drag us in here and then think you can let us go without an explanation? I don’t think so, sweetheart,” said Lily, anger making her use words she’d never normally say. “Who are you? And where’s my sister?

“I have never heard of your sister.”

“Then what are you doing kidnapping us?” asked Jo. She stood up from the bed and this time the man didn’t try to stop her.

“Let’s just say you aren’t the first people here looking for Anna.” The woman took a cigarette from a packet on the small mantelpiece. She had one of those old fashioned lighters, that was like an ornament. It reminded Lily of something Aunt Edie would dust.

“Anna?” asked Lily.

“Brigitte, whatever.”

“Anna and Brigitte are the same person?”

Greta nodded. “I haven’t seen her for a long time. Not since... Not for a long time.”

They heard a whistle coming up from the street outside. The man with the cannabis T-shirt dropped off his stool and went to the window. He pulled the curtain to one side and peered out the window. “Niko.”

He crossed the room and went out into the corridor.

“Where can we find Frank?” asked Lily.

Greta didn’t answer. She sat down on the edge of the armchair and dropped her head into her hands, her black glossy hair falling down around her face.

Lily’s face still smarted. “My sister has been missing for a week. No one’s heard from her since she left a message on my answer machine, saying she needed help. All I know is she’s with your mate. I think they’re both in some kind of trouble.”

Greta looked up. “How do I know you’re not who they are running from?”

“Oh please.” Lily stretched her arms out, her palms facing the ceiling. “I’m going to the police.”

“I’m Frank,” said Greta. “My name is Greta but Anna always call me Frank. No one else calls me that. It was our joke. We shared a room. She said I snore like a man. When Anna left, we had this pact. If she ever needed help, she was to go to Choice Exact and ask for Frank.”

“Why would she need help?” asked Jo.

“We all need help from time to time.”

“Sure enough,” said Jo. “But most people just pick up the phone.”

The man in black sat down on the bed and took out a cigarette. He looked bored. “We both move around a lot,” said Greta. “It seemed a good idea to have a back-up plan. A few days ago a man was asking for Frank in Choice Exact. I didn’t know this man.”

“And what happened?”

“Nothing. I saw him, from a distance. I know that I don’t know him.”

“Where is he now?” asked Lily.

Greta paused. “Go get us all a beer, will you?” she asked the man in black. She gave him some notes from a wooden box on the mantelpiece. He hesitated for a second then took the money and stood up. When he’d left the room Greta turned back to Lily. “I don’t know.”

“How did you know Brigitte?”

“Anna. We both arrive in Amsterdam at the same time. We decide it safer to work together. We were both new girls, when we first met. New to Amsterdam, to the red light district. We looked out for each other.”

Lily felt her heart sink as she accepted the truth of what Greta was saying. “Brigitte worked here? In the red light district?”

Greta nodded.

“When?”

“We came here in ’87.”

Lily did the maths in her head. Four years ago. Lily felt a pang of sympathy for a teenager girl being put in a position where she was forced to sell sex. “When did you see her last?”

Greta stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray on the mantelpiece. “About a year and a half ago. She met some guy who said he could get her a better job. In Germany.”

“Is that where she’s from?”

“Don’t ask me. She didn’t talk much about her past. When I ask her where she was from, all she said was ‘all over.’”

“What about her family?”

“I don't know.”

“Bollocks. You don’t share a room with someone and not know something.”

“All I know is that women don’t end up working here by chance. Or by choice, no matter what anyone tells you. The women who work here, they’re already damaged.”

“When did you last hear from her?” asked Jo. She’d taken out her notebook and was scribbling away.

“I haven’t heard from her since she left.”

“So, who was looking for her?” asked Lily.

“I told you. A man came to the café, looking for Frank. I came down, walked in, saw no one I know.  Then, when was it? Last Tuesday. A friend of mine came. She said there was a man asking questions, looking for a woman called Brigitte. He was showing a picture of her. My friend thinks she recognises her, because she had seen this photograph.” Greta picked up the photo of her and Brigitte, the one she’d already shown them. “I used to keep it pinned up here,” she pointed to a mirror on her dressing table. “She came to me, and said this man is asking questions, should she tell him anything.  Anna lived in fear of people come looking for her. So, I told Dee, my friend, she must say nothing.”

“Where is this man now?”

“I don’t know. Probably, he left Amsterdam. Then you two show up, asking for Frank. I am starting to worry for Anna.”

Lily glanced at Jo. “Who do you think the man was?”

“We share everything, Anna and I. Money, food. We sometimes work together, you know?” She paused while Lily digested the implications of what she’d just said. “We lived together in a room that was smaller than this room, for nearly two years. I know how to make her laugh, cry, come. But I never know what it is she runs from.”

“We need to speak to your friend, Dee,” said Jo, putting her pen down and lighting her own cigarette. “They’re both in danger. We need to find out who this man is, and why he’s looking for Brigitte, Anna, whatever.”

Greta considered this. Eventually she nodded. “Ok, I’ll take you to see her.”

The man in black came back into the room with six bottles of beer. Greta unclipped her suspender belt and pulled on a pair of jeans. “I’m finished for the night,” she said to the bloke. “Do me a favour. Tell Clara she can use the room.”

She bit the top off one of the bottles of beer with her teeth, as Lily stared, half-appalled, half-impressed. Greta appeared not to notice as she swigged from her beer. The guy passed another two bottles over to Lily. She took them and then raised her eyebrows at Jo, like how was she supposed to open them. There was no way her teeth were up to that kind of task. A fear of dentists meant she could hardly chew food let alone bite off metal caps.  Jo passed her a bottle opener from her bag. 

Greta led them down the stairs and back out into the dark alleyway. She looked great now she had some clothes on. Her dark hair was short, yet shiny in the street lamps and her lipstick was the reddest Lily had ever seen.

They followed her down dark and twisting alleyways, the old-fashioned houses all leaning in towards each other, some so close Lily imagined you’d be able to shake hands with the people in the opposite house. They looked like the kind of houses you’d find in fairy tales. Five minutes later they came to a pink door. All the windows bar one were illuminated. Most had red lights, but one was blue. The window at the top was in darkness. “That’s weird,” said Greta, craning her neck to look upwards. “She’s not working.”

“What gives with the blue light?” asked Lily.

Greta smiled and Lily noticed for the first time she had lipstick on her teeth. It gave her a slightly crazed look. “Lady boys,” she said.

Lily frowned.

“Come on, you must know,” said Greta, pulling a face at Lily. “Trannies. For the man that likes a little extra.”

She pushed the buzzer, spoke softly into the intercom, so softly Lily could hardly make out what she said, even though she was stood right next to her.