Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Berlin and New York

First published in Great Britain in May 2010 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

36 Soho Square, London, W1D 3QY

Based on the screenplay of the film

This electronic edition published in 2010 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

Copyright © 4321 Ltd 2010

Copyright in the novelisation © Jim Eldridge 2010

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ISBN  978 1 4088 1185 6

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Sunday night

The Thames at night. Beautiful, as the reflections of the city’s lights dance and twinkle on the black waters. The Millennium Wheel, lit up like a fairground. Its lights pick out a small, slight figure standing perilously on the parapet of Westminster Bridge. A girl of about eighteen. She looks so frail, as if a puff of wind would blow her away.

Suddenly there is the screech of a car skidding to a halt near her. Car doors open and there is the sound of running feet. The girl on the parapet turns, alarm in her eyes. Three girls stand there, holding themselves back from rushing to the balancing girl, but it is obvious from their body language that they want to. That they need to.

‘Come on down, Shannon,’ says one. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

The girl on the bridge, Shannon, recovers herself. She looks at the three girls. She trusted them, and now . . .

The girl who’d spoken, Kerrys, pulls something from her pocket and points it at Shannon. It is a gun, the metal reflected in the lights.

‘I said come on down, girl!’ snaps Kerrys. ‘With the stones!’

‘We’ve got what you want,’ says a shorter girl wearing a gaudy yellow and orange uniform, as calmly as she can. Joanne. But right at this moment Joanne’s not feeling calm. Inside her chest her heart is beating wildly. From her pocket she takes an envelope and holds it up for Shannon to see. ‘Now give us what we want.’

Shannon hesitates, then she reaches into her own pocket and takes out a small black bag. She knows what’s in there, but she pulls it open to take another look. It’s filled with diamonds. Even this distance from the lights, they glint and sparkle. They must be worth hundreds of thousands of pounds. No, millions.

But so what? What’s the point? There isn’t one. Life is . . . pointless.

Shannon puts the diamonds back in her pocket and turns away from the other three girls. Below her are the waters of the Thames. She steps forward.

SHANNON

1

Friday

Shannon sat at the table in the Mr Cappuccino Cafe and looked at the patterns in spilled sugar on the plastic table top. Saw them spiral. It would make a good design for one of her pictures. Maybe one of her street murals. Spirals were good, a spray can going round and round, paint on brick.

She sipped at her coffee and her eyes went to the clock. 3 p.m. She wondered where the other girls were. She wondered who’d be first. Usually it was Jo, then Kerrys, and Cass last. Jo was always on time, punctual. Shannon guessed it came from working at the convenience store. Cass never seemed to bother about time. That must come from being rich. The rich never seemed to have to worry about time. Time was for other people. Ordinary people.

As Shannon thought about the girls — apparently so different from each other — she realised how hard it must seem for anyone outside the gang to understand how close they were.

Cassandra, tall, willowy, rich, with her own expensive upmarket apartment, who seemed almost aloof to most people. Yet never to the other girls. With her family’s money Cass could have chosen to go to any private school, but she had opted to stay at the state school where her friends were.

Shannon wondered whether that was because Cass’s parents had come into their money late, after Cass had been at secondary school with Shannon, Kerrys and Jo for a year. A lottery win, invested in business, and suddenly Mr and Mrs Phillips were rich. Seriously rich. They could buy their daughter anything she wanted, and that included the very best education. But by then Cass, Kerrys, Shannon and Jo had become really tight, and Cass refused to budge. If her three friends couldn’t go to these top-of-the-range schools, then neither would she. If I have my friends and a piano, I don’t need anything else, Cass had said.

Yes, the piano. The one part of Cass that went where her friends couldn’t follow. Shannon had watched Cass at the piano — at school, at her home — and seen how the Cass she knew disappeared and merged with the keyboard, with the whole instrument. Cass became the instrument, the sounds pouring out of them both: tender, beautiful, strident, her hands caressing or pounding the keys as she poured herself into the music, lost to the world outside.

Shannon knew how Cass felt at times like that. It was the same for her with her art, her painting. Day-to-day life for Shannon seemed grey, dead and lifeless, especially since . . . since what had happened. The reason she’d dropped out of Sixth Form. The real reason, that no one knew. OK, her parents knew, but not her friends. She couldn’t tell them. Ever.

At the thought of it, once again tears pricked at the back of her eyes. The pain. The pain that would never go away.

She bit at her lip and fought to stop the tears from coming out. Keep the pain away. Keep the thought away. Lose herself in her painting. Her street graffiti. Her sketch pad. Her paintings on the walls. But she couldn’t keep it out. It was always there, coming into her art more and more; it wouldn’t be denied.

Stop thinking about it, she told herself harshly. Think of your friends. That’s why we’re meeting today. Because we’re friends. We look after one another.

Like Kerrys, the toughest, feistiest person Shannon had ever known. Shannon had been best friends with Kerrys since they were in the same class at primary school. That first day at school the teacher had sat them together at the same table because everyone had been sorted out alphabetically. So Kerrys Pinto sat next to Shannon Richards. Shannon mused how lucky it had been that the teacher had thought that Kerrys’s name ‘Jauo’ had been her middle name. Kerrys Jauo Pinto. Someone had missed off the hyphen in Jauo-Pinto. If it hadn’t been for that simple mistake, Kerrys could have been sitting next to someone whose name began with J or K; and Shannon would have found herself with someone very different. Like that horrible kid Mark Stevens. Or Anya Torstein.

The thought of Kerrys being her friend gave Shannon a feeling of comfort. Having someone like Kerrys on your side meant you were protected. Kerrys had always been the tough one in class at primary school, tougher than any of the boys. It was as if Kerrys was always spoiling for a fight. Shannon guessed that was because of Manuel, Kerrys’s older brother. Or half-brother. He was always digging at her, calling her ‘half-breed’ because she was black and the rest of the family were . . . well . . . white Brazilian.

Not that Manuel was racist. All the friends he hung around with were either black or mixed race. No, it was just there was an edge towards Kerrys from Manuel. There always had been, right from those days in primary school. And that had given Kerrys an edge towards everyone else, like she was always ready to defend herself: to attack before they attacked her.

So different from Jo, thought Shannon. Jo, been in England six years but still had that American accent. Shannon and Kerrys had met up with Jo at secondary school when she hadn’t been long in England. The family had come over because of work. They’d been in England two years when Jo’s dad had been killed, run down by a bus. A tragic accident, the coroner had said. Shannon tried to imagine what it would be like if that had happened to her dad, and just the thought of it made her feel sick inside. It was bad enough to think of losing her dad now she was eighteen. To have lost him when she was just fourteen, like Jo, was . . . It was unthinkable. A nightmare. But Jo seemed to have this amazing ability to bounce back. Whatever you threw at her, she might recoil, but then she came up again, smiling. Boys, heartache, bad results at school, Jo bounced back.

Shannon looked up from the table towards the door of the cafe, and saw Kerrys walk in and sashay towards her. Yes, sashay. That was the word. Kerrys didn’t just walk, she larged wherever she went, and people got out of her way, if they were sensible.

Confidence, that’s what it was. Kerrys had it. Cassandra certainly had it. Even Jo had it, though not to the same extent.

What’s wrong with me? thought Shannon miserably. Why am I the one no one notices?

Kerrys threw herself down in the seat opposite Shannon. Her skirt was so short the words ‘Eat Me’ on her pants blared out to the world.

‘Hey, stranger.’ Kerrys grinned.

‘Nice pants,’ commented Shannon.

Kerrys winked.

‘It pays to advertise.’

‘How are the driving lessons?’ asked Shannon.

The smile vanished from Kerrys’s face.

‘They’d be better if the instructor stopped trying it on with me. So, when you gonna come back to school?’

Shannon shrugged.

‘Maybe Monday?’

Before she could enlarge on this, a call of ‘Ladies!’ made her turn. Cassandra and Jo were bearing down on them, Cassandra’s arms open wide in greeting, her clothes blaring top-of-the-range designer labels.

She is so rich, thought Shannon enviously, and immediately hated herself for thinking it. It wasn’t Cassandra’s fault that her parents were loaded. It was the way it was. Life was unfair.

‘So when are you coming back?’ asked Cassandra.

‘I just asked her that,’ said Kerrys.

‘Class isn’t the same without you!’ insisted Cassandra.

Shannon hesitated. She knew that Cassandra meant every word. That’s the way it was with Cass. What you saw was what you got. But the luvvie attitude, the whole ‘kissy kissy’ thing . . .

Shannon half turned, and as she did she saw Dillon walk into the cafe and her heart gave a little jump. He looked so cool. So handsome. If only he’d notice her.

Kerrys saw the rapt expression on Shannon’s face, turned to see what had caused it and saw Dillon.

‘Oi!’ she called, gesturing at him.

Dillon half turned at the shout, and smiled at the girls. He looked like he was about to come over, but then his phone rang. He answered it, listened intently and then was gone, out of the cafe without even a backward glance.

Shannon strained to see where he went, and saw Dillon meet up with a gang of boys. A few words were exchanged, and then they disappeared from her view, along the street. She slumped back into the seat.

‘He didn’t even look at me!’ she said miserably.

‘Yes, he did!’ said Jo.

‘No, he didn’t,’ said Shannon. ‘He just looked at the three of you.’

The other girls exchanged looks and raised eyebrows.

‘He looked at all of us!’ Jo told her firmly.

Shannon shook her head.

‘It was just you three,’ she said, equally firmly.

Kerrys laughed.

‘He’s outa luck with me.’ She grinned.

‘And I’ve got a man,’ said Cassandra proudly.

Shannon wasn’t mollified.

‘Well, Jo’s in luck then,’ she said with a sniff.

‘Oh, come on!’ said Jo. ‘I’m not going to steal your boy!’

Keen to change the subject away from Shannon’s gloom, she turned to Cassandra.

‘So, you Skyped your Brett yet?’

Cassandra shook her head.

‘Brett doesn’t have Skype.’

Jo grinned.

‘Do your parents actually know they’re paying for their baby girl to snare her first catch in the penis flytrap? Or, in layman’s terms, get fucked.’

Cassandra shook her head haughtily.

‘Officially I am going to New York to audition. Sir Jago Larofsky is only going to take on three students when he moves to Europe. I’m going to make sure I’m one of them.’

Jo chuckled.

‘And get laid at the same time by Mr Cool and Handsome.’

Suddenly Kerrys ducked down at lightning speed, and as she came up the other girls were shocked to see she had a firm hold of the wrist of a guy in his forties. And in the guy’s hand was Cassandra’s Marc Jacobs bag.

Kerrys scowled at the startled expression on the thief’s face.

‘What the fuck you thinking, blud?’ she demanded. ‘You want ladies’ bags, yeah?’

In one swift movement, Kerrys scooped up Shannon’s art bag and smashed it into the thief’s face. Then she dropped it, kneed him in the crotch, and as he doubled over she swung her fist and connected with him hard, full in the face.

The thief stumbled back, dazed, dropping Cassandra’s bag on the floor, blood pouring from his nose. Kerrys stepped forward, over the strewn contents of both handbags, and punched the thief in the face again. He dropped to the floor and Kerrys pushed one of her trainers on to his face.

Shannon, Cassandra and Jo began to scoop up the fallen possessions — tampons, matches, lipsticks, girly stuff — from the bags and push them back in.

In her haste to clear up the mess, Jo didn’t notice that an envelope she’d picked up from the floor had ‘Shannon’ written on it. She passed the envelope to Cassandra, who stuffed it into her bag without even looking at it.

Meanwhile Kerrys looked down with scorn at the thief trapped beneath the sole of her trainer.

‘You looking up my skirt?’ she demanded.

Frantically the thief tried to move his face away from looking up at Kerrys’s pants, but her foot was on his head too firmly. Kerrys produced a cable tie from one of her pockets.

‘Guess I’m gonna have to cable-tie you,’ she grunted.

Cassandra looked on with awe as Kerrys bent down and expertly cable-tied the man’s wrists together.

‘Why do you carry cable ties?’ she asked, bewildered.

‘Just in case.’ Kerrys shrugged.

She handed some of the ties to Cass.

‘Here. You never know when they’ll come in useful.’

A large man wearing a kilt had wandered over.

‘They’ve called the police,’ he informed them. He looked down at the thief in disgust. ‘Want me to take over till they get here?’

Kerrys nodded.

‘Cheers,’ she said, stepping back. To the thief she snapped, ‘When they’re arresting you, remember one thing: girls rule, bitch.’

With that the four girls headed for the street. Behind them the big burly Scot stood over the tied-up and bleeding thief.

‘Let’s see how you like looking up my skirt,’ he growled.

2

As the girls left the cafe, Shannon spotted Dillon about twenty metres away. Something wasn’t right. She could tell, even from this distance. Dillon was with his crew, but he was pacing around in short, jerky steps, then he stopped, then paced again. His crew also looked nervous.

Kerrys looked down at her trainer and scraped it on the pavement, scowling.

‘I think I got blood on my shoe,’ she snorted in disgust.

‘That was so cool!’ exulted Cassandra. She mimicked Kerrys’s ‘Girls rule, bitch’, and then looked admiringly at her. ‘Kerrys, you were awesome!’

‘You’re awesome.’ Kerrys smiled back. ‘You’re seriously gonna go lose it to this Brett?’

‘It is written,’ smirked Cassandra.

Joanne frowned.

‘Wait — if Brett doesn’t have Skype, how do you know what he looks like?’

‘Please!’ said Cassandra. ‘You think I’d do this without at least seeing a picture of him?’

‘Unh, and you believe that’s what he really looks like?’ said Kerrys sarcastically. ‘I bet he’s really an old sweaty pig with grey pubes!’

As the other girls laughed, Shannon’s eyes followed Dillon. A car had pulled up and Dillon was hurrying towards it. A man in a trench coat leaned out of the car and passed something to him. It looked like a small bag. Dillon opened the bag and looked into it, and Shannon saw him relax, but only for a moment. The next second the sound of police sirens was heard, and suddenly Dillon and his crew were running. Shannon saw the look of panic on Dillon’s face as he drew near the girls. She stepped out of his way, but he’d already twisted to avoid her, and that brought him crashing into Cass. The rest of his crew ran past, heading for the alleyways, driven by an urgency.

Dillon went to run on after them, then stopped as if he’d dropped something. The girls looked at him as he cast around, looking for something on the pavement. Then the sound of the police sirens erupted as the flash of blue lights appeared, and Dillon just ran, heading after his crew.

The girls watched them go.

‘Men!’ snorted Kerrys. ‘What are they good for?’

‘One would be good for me,’ said Shannon wistfully.

‘Don’t worry, Shaz,’ said Cassandra. ‘Mr Right will turn up eventually.’

‘And if you can’t get Mr Right . . .’ Kerrys nodded.

‘Get Mr Vibrator!’ laughed Jo.

The police bikes had pulled to a halt outside the Cappuccino Cafe and the policemen rushed inside.

‘All that just for one thief!’ said Kerrys disgustedly. ‘I took him on my own!’

‘But they’re not you, Kerrys,’ said Cassandra admiringly. She looked at her watch. ‘Hey, I’ve got me a flight to catch.’

A sudden thought seemed to strike Kerrys, because she said, ‘Before we go, speaking of men: you gotta come to my brother’s birthday party on Sunday. You as well, Cass. We got family coming and I’ll go mad if you lot ain’t there.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ smiled Cassandra. She reached out and hugged the girls to her.

‘Wish me love,’ she whispered.

‘Love, bitch,’ murmured back the other three.

Then Cassandra was gone, heading to where her parents’ immaculate Bentley was waiting for her, complete with chauffeur.

The others looked after her.

‘That girl sure travels in style,’ said Joanne.

The other girls hugged and air-kissed, then headed their separate ways, while Shannon unchained her bike. She couldn’t help but compare her own mode of transport to Cassandra’s. Money, she thought to herself. They say it can’t buy you happiness, but it sure would help.

She thought of Cass, off to New York to lose her virginity. Some way to go, and such a shitload lot of money. She was sure Cass’s parents’ driver would have done it for her. Hell, he’d even have paid her. And they could have done it in the back of the big Bentley, just to rub her parents’ nose in it.

But no, Cassandra wanted it to be with love. This guy Brett. Shannon sighed. She hoped Cassandra would be protected, otherwise there was always that downside. That heart-aching, mind-numbing feeling as if your body was being torn apart and there was just a hole there where there should have been . . .

Shannon shut the thought out of her mind. Don’t think about it. It never happened.

But it did.

Shannon cycled home, her head full. Of what had happened to her. Of Dillon. Of a mural she was already thinking of. She pulled up outside her house, chained her bike up and walked in. She was shocked to see her father doubled over on the floor of the living room, his face creased in pain. He was rocking backwards and forwards, clutching his stomach, tears running down his agonised face.

‘Dad!’ she yelled in alarm.

Then she became aware of her mother sitting on the couch. She looked calm, detached, but the way she held her hands clasped together showed the tension in her. Shannon looked at them both, stunned.

‘What . . . ?’ she began, and then she stopped. She wanted to say ‘What’s happening?’ but it seemed such a stupid question. So inadequate. Her father was on the floor in agony. Her mother was just sitting, her face tight, unsmiling.

As Shannon stood in the doorway, bewildered, her mother stood up. Shannon was aware of a suitcase beside the couch.

‘Shannon, I’m leaving,’ said her mother.

‘No!’ moaned Mr Richards, and he rocked in pain even more. ‘No, Lauren! Wait, please . . .’

Shannon’s mother stepped past her rocking husband and came to Shannon and looked her firmly in the face. Now Shannon could see the pain in her eyes.

‘I love you, honey,’ said her mother, ‘but I want to be happy again.’ She took a deep breath, then asked, ‘Didn’t you read my note?’

Shannon stared at her, stunned.

‘What note?’ she asked.

‘I put it in your bag,’ her mother said. ‘I couldn’t have said it to your face without breaking down, and if I did that, I couldn’t leave.’

Despite her mother’s stiff posture, Shannon now saw that tears were rolling down her cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ said her mother. ‘I love you, Shannon, but I just can’t stand this any more.’

Her mother went back into the room, took hold of the handle of the suitcase, and headed determinedly for the hallway and the front door.

‘Bye, Shannon. Bye, Jack.’

Shannon stared after her, shocked. This couldn’t be happening!

‘What note?!’ she shouted.

But it was too late. The front door had shut, and her mother was gone.

3

Shannon looked at her father, sitting on the living-room floor. His tears had gone dry, he’d cried himself out. Now he just rocked and moaned.

Shannon’s own eyes filled up with tears, blinding her. Angrily she brushed them away and rushed upstairs to her room. Her TV was on. A newsreader was announcing some breaking news: ‘With inside knowledge the gang of thieves managed to pull off the biggest gem theft that Amsterdam — the diamond-cutting capital of the world — has ever suffered. The police said the raid was conducted . . .’

Shannon snatched up the remote and turned the TV off. She didn’t want to hear about some robbery — that was just money. This was her mother leaving!

Frantically she opened her bag and began searching for an envelope, but there was nothing in there. Why had her mother mentioned it if she hadn’t put it in there?

Anger welled up inside her. Anger and sorrow that tore through her. She bit her lip as she fought to hold back the tears that would otherwise burst out. She had to get out of this house. There was so much she wanted to know, but she couldn’t talk to her father. Not right now.

She pushed her sketch pad and some pencils into her art bag, and hurried out of the room. As she reached the living room she looked in. Her father was still there, crouched on the floor, pain and misery etched on his face. He looked at her, and for a moment there was the feeling of shared pain, an unbearable silence. Then Shannon hurried out of the house and unchained her bike.

At Jo’s house all the lights were ablaze. Music pumped. Shannon dropped her bike on the ground and rang the bell. After what seemed like ages, Jo’s sister, Gwen, opened the door.

‘Hey?’ she asked.

‘Is Jo home?’ asked Shannon.

‘Sure, she’s in her room,’ nodded Gwen. She opened the door wider so that Shannon could enter and at the same time shouted up the stairs; ‘Jo! Your weird mate’s here!’

Shannon ignored the ‘weird’ and hurried upstairs.

Jo was in her underwear, putting on a yellow and orange uniform.

‘Sorry, Shaz, I’m in a real rush!’ she said as Shannon came in. ‘This is a real bitch! I haven’t been at the mart for ages, and now I’ve got to do the night shift!’

She began doing up the buttons of the uniform.

‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No,’ said Shannon miserably, shaking her head.

Jo gave her friend a rueful smile, her attention fully on getting ready.

‘I’m sorry, Shaz, this isn’t a good time.’

‘My mum . . .’ began Shannon awkwardly.

Jo suddenly strode to the door and shouted angrily, ‘Gwen, you bitch! Did you take my hairbands?’

She turned and scowled at Shannon in disgust.

‘Fuck! I guess I’m gonna have to do without them.’

‘My mum . . .’ began Shannon again. She could feel herself welling up, tears pricking at the back of her eyes and blurring her vision.

‘Walk and talk,’ said Jo.

Then she was gone, snatching up her coat and hurrying out of the room and down the stairs. Shannon hesitated, then wiped the tears from her eyes and followed her.

By the time she reached the street, Jo was getting into her car. She slid behind the steering wheel and gave Shannon an apologetic smile.

‘I’m sorry but I really have to go, Shaz,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’

‘I just wanted to talk!’ blurted out Shannon.

‘OK,’ nodded Jo. ‘Can we talk tomorrow?’

Shannon nodded. Inside she felt numb.

‘Go, girl.’ Jo grinned.

She started the car up, slammed the door, and raced away.

Shannon watched her go, and it was as if the weight on her had suddenly got so much heavier.

4

Shannon sat on the bench on the canal path and looked at the water, her sketch pad on her lap, her pencil tracing a line on the paper, then filling in shadows.

Shannon loved the canal. She loved rivers, especially city ones. So many people told her that London’s canals and rivers were dangerous: water so thick you couldn’t see through to what was underneath, the hidden dangers. To Shannon that was part of their fascination, their mystery. The unknown, swirling, compelling.

As her pencil moved a portrait took shape. Her mother.

Why had she left? Was her father the whole problem? Was there another man in the background, who’d now be revealed?

Or was the problem her — Shannon?

‘I didn’t mean it, Mum,’ she whispered painfully, and she saw a tear splash on to the drawing.

Suddenly footsteps and voices came to her. The sound of young men, walking towards her, just round the bend in the canal. She didn’t want them to see her like this, see her tears. But there was no time to get up and run, not with her art stuff scattered on the bench. She swung her legs over the bench and dropped behind it, out of sight, as two young men appeared, deep in conversation.

‘I got family over!’ complained one, obviously resisting what the other was asking of him.

Shannon’s heart gave a leap as she recognised his voice, and she threw a quick glance at them. Manuel, Kerrys’s older brother. With him was Tee, an older boy she’d once seen with Dillon. It struck her then that Tee had been the man in charge.

‘Look, don’t give me fucking attitude!’ snapped Tee.

‘I’m telling ya!’ insisted Manuel firmly. ‘I can’t have ’em in my house long. I can’t risk being involved.’

‘It’ll only be one night,’ Tee pressed him. ‘Don’t be like a little girl! Look, just do it. Nothing to worry about. Trust me!’

Manuel frowned, not convinced. As he turned he caught sight of Shannon crouched behind the bench and stopped, puzzled.

‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Ain’t you my sister’s mate? What you doin’ down there?’

‘I . . . I dropped something,’ stammered Shannon, getting up.

Manuel spotted the art pad on the bench, and the emerging portrait of Shannon’s mum. He picked it up, and held it out to Tee admiringly.

‘Tee, check this out!’ he said.

Tee looked at the sketch, then at Shannon, and nodded.

He seems uncomfortable, thought Shannon. Why? Is it me?

‘I got to get to work,’ Tee muttered.

With that he headed off along the canal path. Manuel looked again at the sketch, then put it down on the bench and gave Shannon a wink, before hurrying after Tee.

Shannon slid the sketch pad into her art bag, and began gathering up her pencils and pastels. She felt hollow inside, empty. Her life was shit. Her mum gone. Her dad useless. Jo blowing her off. No one cared. She might as well be dead.

Where was the note her mum had said she’d written her? It wasn’t in her bag. What did it say? Maybe it gave her the answers she needed.

She thought about how different her life was compared to the other girls’. Jo, so busy she didn’t have time to breathe. Kerrys, always out there, proud, confident. Cass, rich and on her way to New York to get laid by some handsome hunk.

Maybe that’s what she needed. Getting laid. It had been a long time. In fact, it had been never. They hadn’t even done it properly. If they had, then it had been a disappointment, not like the way the others talked about it.

That’s what she needed. A good shag. Something to make her feel alive.

5

The Blam Bar was jumping. But then, it was Friday night — the Blam was always rammed on a Friday. Music pounded, voices shouted to make themselves heard, people danced, some close, some leaping about as much as they could in the crush.

Shannon sat perched on the high stool, her elbows on the bar for support, her head resting on her open hands, like two pillows. Her eyes were heavy. The sound of the music thumped inside her head.

She looked at the four empty glasses in front of her. Four shots. She didn’t usually drink. But then, she didn’t usually go out looking to get laid. How long had she been here? Ages. And still no one had come up and tried to pull her. Was it her? Was she really such a dog?

She felt a bit sick. She wanted to go to the ladies’ and puke, but it seemed too far away.

She was aware of a young guy sliding on to the stool next to her and smiling at her. He looked neat. Twenties. Quite cool. He pointed at the four empty glasses on the bar in front of Shannon.

‘You want anything stronger?’ he asked.

Shannon looked at him, frowning slightly. Was this a pick-up line? What could she say? Her tongue felt swollen in her mouth. She didn’t want to open her mouth in case she said something stupid and scared him off.

He smiled again.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Shannon.’

He nodded.

‘I’m Fraser,’ he said.

Shannon nodded, and the act nearly made her fall off the bar stool. Fraser caught her just in time. He peered at her, concern on his face.

‘You all right?’ he asked.

Someone’s asking about me, thought Shannon. Someone cares!

‘Not really,’ she said.

Fraser shifted on his bar stool so he was now pressing against her, thigh to thigh.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘Lonely?’

Shannon nodded. She was aware she was having difficulty focusing.

Beside her, Fraser shouted at the barman.

‘Three vodka triples, mate!’

Three? thought Shannon, puzzled. There’s just the two of us.

Three glasses appeared on the bar in front of them. Fraser picked one up and placed it carefully in Shannon’s hand.

‘Shoot this — you’ll feel better,’ he assured her.

Shannon looked at the glass, at Fraser’s smiling face, then back at the glass again. She tipped her head back, opened her mouth and poured it down in one go.

She slammed the glass down on the bar, a little heavier than she’d intended. She felt the spirit course through her, her veins on fire.

Fraser lifted another glass and steered it into her hand.

‘Now the other one,’ he said.

Shannon looked at the glass as if surprised to find it there. How had it got there? She squinted at Fraser, who nodded energetically and gave her another smile of encouragement. Shannon lifted the glass and threw it down into her mouth, felt it burn as it raced across her tongue and down her throat. She dropped the glass on to the bar, tried to stop it falling over, but missed. She watched the empty glass roll a bit, then stop.

Something was touching her back. A hand. She looked at Fraser. He was still smiling, but his arm was round her back, reaching down, his palm rubbing her skin. She felt his fingers grip her arse.

‘So, what are you doing tonight?’ he asked.

Shannon swayed slightly. What was she doing? She thought about it. It was a puzzle, but one she was sure she could work out. Her brain was all foggy. Then it became clear. Of course she knew what she was doing tonight!

‘Whatever you wanna do,’ she said.

She wasn’t sure if that had come out right. She was slurring her words, but Fraser didn’t seem to mind. He liked her!

‘Well, I’m feeling kinda horny,’ said a familiar voice behind her. ‘I was thinking we could go back to my yard and press flowers, if you get my drift.’

Kerrys!

Shannon swung round, even though the movement made her head swim and she had to catch hold of the bar to stop herself falling over. Kerrys was standing there, looking at her, a tough expression on her face. There was no sign of . . . what was his name? . . . Fraser! That was it. The nice guy with the hands.

‘Where’s that guy?’ demanded Shannon, looking around.

‘Gone,’ said Kerrys, then she added angrily, ‘What the fuck are you doing, Shannon? Are you nuts? I’m over there with Jas and I saw him touching you up, so I came over.’

Shannon did her best to draw herself up and look down on Kerrys, but it wasn’t easy when the world was going round.

‘Am I not allowed to get felt up?’ she demanded. She leaned in towards Kerrys and whispered, ‘I wanted to go to his place.’

Kerrys shook her head.

‘You’re drunk. He’s a dickhead. You don’t want nothing from him, trust me.’

‘I haven’t drunk that much!’ protested Shannon.

She tried to get off the stool, but found her foot was tangled up in it. She tried to jerk free and nearly fell. Kerrys’s strong hands caught her and pushed her back upright on to the stool.

‘Come on,’ said Kerrys. ‘I think it’s time for you to go home.’

Shannon shook her head.

‘I just wanna go with that guy!’ she appealed. Then suddenly her face collapsed and great tears began to roll down her cheeks. ‘Jo won’t talk to me. My mum . . .’ Her words faded into a sobbing hiccup, and she lowered her head on to her arms on the bar and cried as if her heart was breaking.

Kerrys looked at her, bewildered.

‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded.

Before Shannon could reply, the sound of a glass smashing not far away made Kerrys whirl round, alert for trouble. The young man, Fraser, was struggling with another young man, punching and kicking. As Kerrys watched, the small fight erupted into a bigger one as friends joined in, men and girls, fists flying, feet swinging, handbags whirling.

Kerrys turned back to Shannon, who was now completely slumped across the bar.

‘This ain’t looking good, girl,’ she told Shannon urgently. ‘It’s time to go.’

There was a really loud yell from the fight, but this one was a harsh, angry shout of drink-fuelled fury. Kerrys turned again, and saw Fraser lurching out from the melee, his pointing finger and angry stare firmly fixed on Kerrys and Shannon.

‘I’m gonna kill you two bitches!’ he roared.

Shannon pushed herself up from the bar top, bafflement on her face.

‘I thought he wanted to shag me,’ she said plaintively.

‘He changed his mind,’ snapped Kerrys. ‘Come on, it’s definitely time to go.’

She grabbed Shannon’s arm and dragged her off the stool. Shannon immediately fell to the floor. Quickly, strongly, Kerrys hauled Shannon to her feet. She shot a quick glance at Fraser, who was battling his way through the crush to get to them. Fraser’s mates were behind him. He was mob-handed.

6

Gritting her teeth to hold up the weight of Shannon’s collapsing body, Kerrys steered her as fast as she could through the crowd towards the back door of the club. If she could get Shannon out to the back alley, they might be safe. God, how come someone as frail as Shannon was so heavy all of a sudden?

Shannon ran. At least, she thought she was running. All she knew was she was bumping into things — people, tables, chairs — and someone was holding her up as they ran. Kerrys! Kerrys was her hero!

They crashed through the doors of the fire exit and out into the alley. The sudden rush of cold night air hit Shannon and suddenly all the nausea that had been sitting uncomfortably halfway between her stomach and her throat rose up. She just managed to bend over in time as she vomited.

‘Shit!’ groaned Kerrys.

Kerrys looked around. At any second the doors would burst open and the boys would be out here, wanting blood, her blood. One she might be able to take, but not three of them, not drunk as they were, and not with Shannon needing protection.

‘Quick! Hide!’ snapped Kerrys, and she pushed Shannon, who stumbled forward and then fell behind the dumpsters, where newspapers and takeout cartons had gathered, blown by the alley wind.

The doors of the club crashed open and Fraser and his mates burst out.

‘There!’ yelled Fraser in triumph, pointing at Kerrys.

Behind the dumpsters, Shannon heard Kerrys shout out something, and then Kerrys ran away down the alley, Fraser and the other boys chasing after her.

Shannon slumped against the dumpster. She knew the ground she was sitting on must be wet and cold, but she could hardly feel it. Her body was numb. The inside of her mouth tasted like vomit and fur.

I’m going to die, she thought. I came out to get laid and I’m going to die. That’s the story of my life.

She closed her eyes and felt herself sliding down the dumpster. Felt the water from the puddles beneath the old newspapers begin to seep through to her skin.

Dead in an alley, she thought. They’ll find me dead in an alley.

The sound of running footsteps down the alley and drawing near jolted her, and she opened her eyes. Fraser, she thought. He’s killed Kerrys and now he’s come back for me.

She struggled to sit up, but fell back down. Her head ached. The back of her eyes ached. Her mouth felt like she had swallowed wallpaper paste. Not that she knew what wallpaper paste tasted like, but she was sure it would taste like this.

A hand gripped her shoulder roughly.

‘Shhh!’ whispered a voice. Kerrys! ‘They’ve gone.’

Shannon tried to focus on Kerrys’s face, but it kept going backwards and forwards.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘One minute everything was fine, and then . . . then it wasn’t.’

Kerrys gave a wry grin.

‘I think they liked you,’ she said.

‘Then . . . why did they chase after us like that?’ asked Shannon, her tone one of bewilderment.

Kerrys gave a shrug.

‘Who knows? Maybe you’re that desirable.’ She grinned, slightly more relaxed now. ‘If we could figure men out, we’d be millionairesses.’ She hauled Shannon to her feet and took in their setting: the dumpsters, the newspapers and takeout boxes, the crap. ‘Slumdog millionairesses,’ she added wryly. She released Shannon. ‘Can you stand?’

Shannon tested herself. Both feet firmly on the ground. She nodded. Just a little nod, nothing that might make her head go into orbit or make her vomit again.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘OK,’ said Kerrys. ‘I think you should go home. Be safe there.’

‘OK,’ agreed Shannon. She swayed slightly, took a deep breath, then stood firm again.

The note, she thought.

‘Kerrys,’ she asked. ‘when we were all together in the coffee bar, did you see a note?’

‘A note?’ echoed Kerrys, puzzled.

‘In an envelope,’ said Shannon.

‘Who from?’ asked Kerrys.

Who from? Shannon repeated to herself. Kerrys hadn’t seen it or she’d say. So, no note.

She took another deep breath, making sure she was OK, and then began to walk. Time to go home. Look for the note.

Kerrys appeared walking beside her, her face concerned.

‘You wanna lift?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Shannon. ‘Thank you.’ Inside, she thought: I want someone to help me. I want to be held. I want to be loved and cared for. She looked at Kerrys: Kerrys, who saved her life tonight. Help me again, Kerrys, she begged silently. Sort out my life for me. She wanted to cry out.

Instead, Kerrys just nodded. ‘I’ll call you in the morning!’ she said, and walked off.

Shannon nodded. Not a big nod that might shake her head off, but enough to show that she’d heard. As she watched Kerrys walk away, she felt her heart ache even more and she felt close to breaking down and sobbing. Everybody left her, sooner or later.

Shannon walked. Around her the city seemed as alive as ever: the sounds of sirens, traffic, shouts. This city never sleeps, thought Shannon.

She walked until she felt her head was clear.

I could have got laid tonight, she thought. Instead I ended up lying in an alley and nearly got killed. My life is shit.

She reached her house and unlocked the front door as quietly as she could. She didn’t know what time it was, but she knew it was late. Really late. Early morning, in fact. Her dad would be asleep. The last thing she wanted right now was to wake him and have a scene about her coming in late, especially in the state she was in. She knew she smelt of stale vomit and booze.

She crept into the hallway and headed for the stairs. As she did she saw a movement in the living room to her right. There was someone there! Was it her mother, come back?

Urgently, she switched on the light.

Her dad sat on the couch, wide awake, staring at her, his eyes red-rimmed, his face pale.

‘Jesus, Dad!’ stammered Shannon. ‘You scared the life out of me!’

Her dad sagged back against the couch, his face still etched with pain.

‘I thought you’d left me too,’ he said dully.

Shannon shook her head and forced a smile.

‘Never,’ she said firmly. ‘Go to bed, Dad.’

She switched off the light and went back out to the hallway and then up the stairs to her room.

She checked the clock: 2 a.m. What time did that make it in New York? How many hours’ difference was it? And which way? Were they ahead or behind? One thing she was sure of — it wasn’t two o’clock in the morning there.

She picked up her phone and dialled Cass’s number.

Cass answered straight away. ‘Cass!’

‘Cass, it’s Shannon!’

‘Oh. Hi, Shaz.’

There was something strange about Cass’s voice. Some weird note in it, like she was crying.

‘How’s it going over there in New York?’ asked Shannon.

A pause, then Cass’s voice came back: ‘Yeah, it’s great.’ Cheerful again. The same old Cass. Maybe it had just been atmospherics. After all, she was a long way away.

‘Have you seen a note anywhere?’ asked Shannon, feeling tension rising in her as she asked.

‘A note?’ said Cass, surprised.

‘Yes, a note,’ said Shannon.

There was a crackle of interference, then Cass said, ‘Nope. Listen, I have to go, Shaz.’

‘This note —’ began Shannon.

‘I didn’t see one,’ said Cass.

‘It’s really important,’ said Shannon, hoping that Cass would pick up the desperate urgency in her voice, the need for help.

‘Sorry,’ said Cass. ‘Look, I gotta go. Bye.’

Then the line went dead.

7

Shannon fixed herself a fry-up breakfast. Egg, sausage, bacon, beans. Just the sort of thing her body wanted. After a night’s vomiting, a greasy fry-up filled the spaces. The TV news was on, still going on about the diamond robbery. ‘The figure is said to run to millions,’ said the newsreader, his tone serious and sombre. ‘Amsterdam’s close-knit diamond community . . .’

Shannon changed channels to a music station. Who cared what Amsterdam’s diamond community thought.

As she sat down at the table with her fry-up, her dad walked in. God, he looked ill. Deathly pale. Dark rings under his eyes. He sat down at the table with her, his expression heavy with the words he was too unhappy to say out loud. Shannon looked at him, hesitated, then asked awkwardly, ‘Do you blame me, Dad? For what happened.’

Her dad shook his head.

‘It was nothing to do with you,’ he said. He took a deep breath, then forced a fake smile. ‘It’s probably best, your mum leaving. For her.’

‘I feel like it’s me, Dad,’ pressed Shannon, now she’d brought the matter up. ‘Jo’s sister said I was weird. Jo didn’t wanna talk. I called Cass last night and she didn’t want to talk to me either. And Kerrys. She said she’d call me this morning, and she hasn’t.’ She shook her head unhappily.

Her father reached out and laid his hand gently on hers.

‘It’s not you, love,’ he said.

Shannon took her hand away and cut savagely into a piece of sausage, forking it into her mouth.

‘It must be,’ she said. ‘Otherwise why are none of my friends speaking to me? And that’s why no men want me.’ The expression on her face hardened. ‘It’s like they all know what I did and they don’t want to come near me.’

Her father moved nearer, his face concerned and worried for her, reaching out to put his arms around her. ‘No . . .’ he began, but Shannon shook her head and stood up, avoiding his arm.

‘I’ve gotta go,’ she mumbled.

And she headed for the door, leaving her fry-up unfinished.

I have to get out, she thought. I have to make a connection with someone. Anyone.

Shannon got off her bike outside Kerrys’s house. She was just about to chain it up when the front door burst open and Kerrys stormed out, looking back into the house and shouting angrily.

‘You know what?’ she yelled. ‘Fuck all of you!’

Kerrys’s brother, Manuel, appeared in the doorway and seemed about to rush after Kerrys, but she stormed down the path, her face a picture of sheer fury. Shannon tried to step in her way.

‘Kerrys,’ she said accusingly, ‘you didn’t call me . . .’

Kerrys didn’t even look at her.

‘Go away, Shannon,’ she growled angrily.

And then she had pushed past her and was gone.

Shannon turned back towards the house, where Manuel was watching. But Manuel just turned away, and then the front door slammed shut.

Shannon sat on a bench in the covered way by the Cappuccino Cafe, her art bag and her pad on her lap. Sometimes when she felt bad she drew — pictures of what she wanted things to be, or how things had been. But right now she felt too hurt to even start to sketch. Kerrys had blanked her. Told her to go away. She thought they were true friends. They’d been friends since they were little kids. Last night Kerrys had saved her life. But today, she wouldn’t even talk to her. Wouldn’t even look at her!

Shuffling footsteps came near. She looked up. It was Dillon and some of his crew. They seemed to be looking for something, as if they’d dropped something on the ground. Dillon looked up and saw her, and Shannon’s heart gave a little jump. She smiled at him, just a little smile. Dillon frowned.

‘I know you,’ he said, puzzled. ‘How do I know you?’

Shannon felt her throat go dry. What did she say? He’d seen her with the other girls. She felt a dagger of disappointment that he knew them but didn’t remember seeing her before. Not properly. But he was talking to her now! What should she say? She opened her mouth to start to explain, about Kerrys and the others, when his phone rang.

Oh no! Not now! Please don’t let him go and walk off talking to someone! Not now!

Dillon answered it.

‘Yeah, Tee.’

Tee, thought Shannon.That had been the boy at the canal yesterday with Manuel.

‘Today?’ frowned Dillon. He looked doubtful for a moment, then nodded. ‘I can be there later.’ He listened again, then replied, ‘I’ll get them back now. Yeah, them lot are here. We’ll make it look right.’ He nodded again. ‘All right, I’m coming.’

He hung up and went to walk off, and Shannon’s heart sank with misery. Please let him talk to me! she begged.

As if by a miracle, Dillon stopped and looked again at her, a quizzical expression on his face.

‘You never told me where I know you from,’ he said.

Shannon felt her heart racing.

‘I don’t live far from you,’ she said, fighting to appear cool and calm. ‘I saw you here yesterday, running.’

Dillon nodded as he remembered. Suddenly he smiled at her, and that smile seemed to light up her whole body.

‘Listen, you’re not usually my type of gash, but you’re all right still. So I feel that you and me should link up. Gimme the digits and I’ll ding you this week. Get me?’

Shannon looked at him. Was he really asking her out, or was she reading more into it than he was saying? She gulped, and forced a casual shrug.

‘Not really, no,’ she said airily. But then she gave him a big smile, to let him know she liked him. Really liked him.

Dillon smiled back at her. ‘You’re nice,’ he said. ‘Gimme your number.’

He handed her his phone and she typed her number in, then handed his phone back to him. He gave her a nod and a wink, and then headed back to his crew, who were now waiting for him. She noticed a few of them look at her suspiciously, but she didn’t care. He had talked to her! And he liked her!

Her own phone rang. It was Jo.

‘Jo,’ said Shannon. She felt excited. She wanted to tell Jo what had just happened with Dillon. Someone she really liked fancied her back!

‘Hey, Shaz,’ said Jo. ‘Sorry I rushed off like that yesterday. Work. What’s up?’

Suddenly Shannon remembered the note her mum had told her she’d put in her bag. It must have fallen on the floor in the cafe when that bag-snatcher had grabbed Cass’s bag.

‘Listen, Jo, did you see a note yesterday? In the Cappuccino?’

‘A note about what?’

Shannon was just about to explain, when Jo cut in with, ‘Listen, I gotta go. Come to my work later. We’ll talk there.’

There was a click, and Jo had gone.

I will, thought Shannon. I’ll go and ask her about the note, and tell her about Dillon.

She suddenly realised she was smiling.

Surprisingly, wonderfully, things were getting better.

8

Night was falling as Shannon arrived at Ted’s Mart, the one-stop convenience store where Jo worked. As she rested her bike against the wall she thought about her day. Yes, there was still the ache of her mum walking out like that, but then there had been Dillon. She’d spent the rest of the day by the canal, sketching — the buildings, the canal path, the people — and somehow Dillon kept creeping into her drawings, sometimes on his own, sometimes with her.

Jo will freak when I tell her, she thought excitedly. Me and a boy.

She got to the mart, but the door was shut. Shannon frowned. Surely it couldn’t be shut — it was ‘Ted’s 24-Hour Mart’. It never closed. Ever.

The door must have got caught inside, a latch slipping shut or something. She banged on the glass. There was no immediate answer. No one opened the door.

This is ridiculous, thought Shannon. I know Jo’s in there. She told me she’d be at work. She banged again, harder this time, and the sound reverberated like a drum. This time the door opened.

Shannon walked in. The place seemed strangely empty, but it wasn’t that late. A few young men were standing around, looking awkward. There were a couple of members of staff in their bright orange and yellow uniforms. Jo was behind the counter. Beside her was another young man, facing away from Shannon, his hooded top covering his head, his hands in his pockets.

No one was smiling or doing anything. OK, most people who worked at Ted’s didn’t smile much — it was long hours for low pay. But none of the customers seemed to be buying anything. They were all just hanging around, like they were waiting for something, or someone. Even Jo was looking at her like she had something weird about her.

‘Hey, Jo!’ called Shannon, and headed towards the counter.

Jo shook her head and gave Shannon a hard, unfriendly look. Unsmiling.

‘I can’t talk now, Shaz,’ she snapped. ‘You need to go.’

Shannon stopped and stared at Jo. What was going on? Why was Jo treating her like this?

‘But . . . you told me to come!’ she protested.

‘Yeah, and now I’m telling you to go,’ said Jo curtly.

‘But . . .’ began Shannon, stunned.

‘Go!’ repeated Jo, harshly and brutally this time. ‘Get out!’

Shannon felt her eyes fill up with tears.

‘But I’m here to talk to you! Why are you behaving like this?’

Jo dropped her eyes, then looked at the young men and the other staff. Then she raised her gaze to Shannon again. There was absolutely no warmth in her face for Shannon, just . . . coldness.

‘Shaz, will you just piss off!’

Shannon wanted to go. She was being humiliated here in front of everyone, she knew that, but she had to know why Jo was doing this dreadful thing to her. What had she done to deserve it?

‘Why, Jo?’ she begged. ‘Why?’

‘Cos she’s here with her man and she don’t want you around,’ muttered the hooded young man, and then he turned to face her.

As she saw his face beneath his hood, Shannon felt as if she’d been struck hard in the guts. It was Dillon. Her Dillon!

As she watched, Dillon reached out, grabbed Jo and pulled her towards him, and kissed her. And Jo kissed him back!

Shannon felt dizzy. Jo knows how I feel about him, she thought. She knows, and she does this!

She felt sick. Sick and betrayed and useless!

She felt a surge of anger beneath her tears. OK, she wasn’t Jo’s friend, she wasn’t Dillon’s girl. So why was she here? She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of breaking down in tears in front of them all — the other boys, the other workers. No, she was a customer.

She pulled some change from her pocket and threw it at Jo. The coins hit the counter and bounced in all directions, some towards Jo, some towards Dillon, some just flying and hitting the wall.

‘Thanks for nothing!’ stormed Shannon. ‘I fucking hate you!’

She snatched a tube of Pringles from the display with such force that the whole display collapsed, sending Pringles boxes scattering.

Immediately the young men and Dillon rushed forward towards the display, as if trying to stop it falling, but they were too late. Shannon ran out of the store as fast as she could, tears blinding her eyes. She was aware of someone running after her, but she was already on her bike and cycling away, not even looking properly where she was going. She wondered who had run after her. Jo? Dillon? The security guard, going to arrest her for messing up the display? Well, fine fucking chance any of them had of catching her! Shannon was gone!

9

The canal. Her base. Her sanctuary. Shannon sat on the bench and looked at the dark waters rippling past her. She looked up at the opposite wall. It had one of her murals on it, with her tag. In the dark it was difficult to make it out, but she knew what it said, it was etched deeply on her heart. ‘I’m sorry.’

Yes, she was sorry all right. She’d let herself be taken in. By Dillon. By Jo. By her mum. By all of them.

She pulled the box of Pringles from her pocket and was just about to flip the lid when there was a popping sound, not far away, and something slammed into her chest. She looked down.

Even in the dim glow of the distant lamp she could see that it was red and glistened wet. She’d been shot! But there was no pain.

There was another pop! and yellow splashed on her chest. Paint! Someone was firing paintballs at her!

She leaped to her feet as another paintball hit her on the arm, knocking the box of Pringles out of her grasp.

She turned. A bunch of kids were coming towards her, paintball rifles levelled at her. Like a pack of wild dogs on a hunt.

Shannon backed away from them.

‘Please don’t,’ she appealed. ‘You wouldn’t believe the shit couple of days I’ve had.’

The kid in the front grinned, his smile making him appear even more wolf-like.

‘It’s about to get worse, babe,’ he announced.

He fired again, and this time, launched from close range, the paintball hurt when it hit her. Another rifle was already pointing at her. She dodged as it fired and the paintball missed her.

Then she was running, her bag clutched tightly in one hand, dodging from side to side as she ran as fast as she could along the canal path, heading for the steps back to where she’d left her bike. A shriek behind her, rage mixed with pleasure at the hunt, went up, and then she heard their footsteps on the canal path as they chased after her, yelling with delight.

‘Get her! Shoot her! Kill her!’

Shannon felt her lungs were ready to burst as she threw herself up the steps to the street and her waiting bike, and then she skidded to a halt with a feeling of horror. Two boys were already by her bike, one of them sitting on it holding the handlebars, the other pissing on the front tyre.

Frantically Shannon looked up and down the street, looking for a safe way out, an alley that went somewhere — she didn’t want to run into a dead end. But before she could move they were on her, one kid jumping on her back, and snatching at her bag. She swung out, using her elbows as weapons, but the kids were too wise, they crowded in so she couldn’t get a proper swing. She felt her bag being pulled open and saw a hand thrust in and her mobile phone snatched out. Frantically she grabbed for it, but more kids jumped on her, their weight pulling at her, dragging her down to the ground.

If they get me to the ground they’ll kill me, realised Shannon. They’ll kick me to death. Boots thudding into my head. Ribs breaking and puncturing my lungs. I’ve got to stay on my feet!

But the sheer weight of them was too much as they hung on to her like a pack of hunting dogs bringing their prey down for the kill. She gave a last jerk, trying to free herself from them, but it unbalanced her and she stumbled, and then she was falling, crashing to the hard ground, the weight of the kids crushing her. They were going to suffocate her, then kick her to death!

10

She felt a sharp pain in her side as one of the kids kicked her. She tried to roll, to get away, but the weight of the kids was too much. They were lying on her legs, holding her down, stopping her from kicking out.

I don’t want to die this way! she thought.

Suddenly there was a yell of pain from above her, then another, and she was aware the weight of the kids on her was easing. She felt one of them being dragged off her, and saw a fist crash down on the kid’s head.

Shannon rolled and squirmed out from under the weight of the kids, and saw that someone was wading in, fists and feet flying and kicking, and the kids were howling with pain. It was a well-dressed woman with a terrifying angry look on her face.

Whack! The woman lashed out and another of the kids stumbled back with a yell of pain, hands shielding his face. Her foot lashed out and caught another in the groin, and he tumbled to the ground with a shriek.

Shannon saw one of the boys pull out a wicked-looking knife and whirl round on the woman, but he didn’t get a chance to use it. Crunch! She smashed him full in the face and he fell back, the knife clattering to the ground.

The woman swooped down and scooped it up and held it towards the other kids, while with her other hand she grabbed Shannon by the collar of her coat and hauled her to her feet.

‘Make for the car!’ she snapped.

Shannon looked around, bewildered, and saw a snazzy car just a few metres away, the driver’s door hanging open. She found she still had a hold of her bag, which amazed her.

The woman backed away from the kids, dragging Shannon along with her, the knife in her hand still held towards the kids.

The kids stood, baffled and unsure, looking at their friends groaning and crying on the ground.

‘I’ll kill the first one who tries anything,’ warned the woman menacingly.

She will too, thought Shannon. There was no mistaking the intensity in the woman’s manner, the determination. Who was she? What was she? Some kind of vigilante?

The kids stayed where they were as Shannon and the woman reached the car. They were like animals deprived of their prey, but reluctant to move nearer and face the wrath of the woman.

‘Get in!’ ordered the woman.

Shannon hurried round to the passenger door, opened it and jumped in. The woman slid behind the steering wheel, started the ignition and raced away. Only then did the kids move, running towards the car, throwing things at it, but it was a futile gesture, and everyone knew it. The last thing the kids wanted was for the woman to stop and come back at them.

Shannon’s last sight of the kids was them shouting at the car and waving their fists in anger; then the car had turned into the main road and the gang of kids vanished from her sight.

Shannon slumped back into the seat.

‘Who are you?’ she asked the woman, her mind still a whirl at what had just happened. Was still happening.

‘The name’s Kelly Field,’ said the woman.

‘And do you do this sort of thing a lot? Save people?’

Kelly smiled.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’m like a superhero.’

Shannon looked at her, stunned.

‘Really?’ she said, and she realised her mouth and eyes were wide open. She must look like an idiot.

Kelly smiled again, but shook her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t stand kids like that.’ She shot a quick look at Shannon, and at the wet mess on her chest.

‘That blood?’ she asked.

Shannon shook her head.

‘Paint,’ she explained. She sniffed, and her nose wrinkled. ‘I think piss as well.’

Kelly also gave a look of disgust.

‘OK,’ she nodded. ‘Just don’t get it on the seats.’

11

As Kelly drove, Shannon’s mind was still trying to work out what was going on. Who was this woman? Where had she come from? The way she was dressed, the stylish clothes, the way she looked, the snazzy car — all screamed money. So why was she doing this?

‘Where are we going?’ asked Shannon.

‘My place,’ said Kelly. ‘You need to get cleaned up. You can’t go home looking like that.’

‘Maybe we should tell the police?’ suggested Shannon. ‘Those kids stole my phone.’

‘Oh yes, and what do you think will happen?’ asked Kelly archly. ‘Will you get your phone back? No. Will the kids get charged? No, because they’re either underage or they’re all lawyered up. Me, on the other hand, I’ll get done for assaulting kids. I’ll be put on some sort of register. You want that?’

Shannon shook her head.

‘No,’ she said.

‘That’s why we’ll do it this way,’ said Kelly. ‘We’ll get you cleaned up at my place and then I’ll run you home. And then we both just get on with our lives.’

‘More people to save?’ asked Shannon. ‘The People’s Avenger.’

Kelly grinned again.

‘Maybe,’ she said.

‘You were really brave,’ said Shannon. ‘They could have killed you.’

Kelly shook her head.

‘Not me,’ she said confidently. ‘No one kills me.’

Kelly pulled the car into an underground car park and led the way to a lift. Like the car, the lift was neat and modern. It was all shiny and clean, voice-activated. High security. As with Kelly’s clothes and her car, everything spelt money.

When they walked into Kelly’s apartment, Shannon’s initial look told her this was no ordinary pad. Expensive designer furniture, big paintings on the walls — and originals, not prints. This place, and everything about the woman herself, spelt out not just money, but class and style as well.

‘Nice place,’ murmured Shannon. ‘What do you do?’

Kelly shrugged.

‘I’m an entrepreneur,’ she said casually.

‘Business must be good,’ said Shannon, looking around the apartment admiringly.

Kelly took some clothes and a fresh towel out of a wardrobe and handed them to Shannon.

‘Here, get cleaned up,’ she said. ‘Then I’ll run you home.’

She took Shannon’s bag from her so Shannon could take the clothes and towel. Shannon hesitated. This was all so weird. People didn’t just turn up and save you from being killed on the street like this. What was it? Was Kelly gay? Was she going to wait until Shannon had her clothes off and was in the shower, and then make her move on her?

If that was the case, why would she bother? A woman like Kelly could get anyone she wanted without going to all this trouble.

Shannon walked into the bathroom. Like the apartment, everything in it was top-of-the-range and state-of-the-art. It was also immaculately clean.

Shannon put the clothes Kelly had given her down on the floor and dumped the towel near the shower.

‘This is so nice of you!’ she called out. ‘Most people don’t do good things these days.’

There was no response from the living room. Shannon turned on the shower and began to take her clothes off.

They stank. They stank of paint, they stank of piss, they stank of the mess from the road.

‘What sort of entrepreneurial stuff do you do?’ Shannon called out, more to find out where Kelly was than anything else.

‘At the moment I’m just starting a new business,’ Kelly called back. ‘Import and export.’

It must pay well, thought Shannon, looking around the bathroom.

She stepped into the shower and let the water hit her. It was a powerful jet, hot, stinging her scalp and face like tiny needles, and she lowered the temperature and the force just a bit. She let the water pour down her body, down her arms, over the scars.

Life was weird. One minute she was happy because Dillon was definitely hitting on her, the next Dillon and Jo were kissing right in front of her and her dream of him crashed down around her. One minute she was living with two parents, the next she had just one. One minute she was on the ground, about to be kicked to death, the next she was in the most luxurious apartment she’d ever seen outside of a movie, being treated like someone special by a complete stranger. Someone with money and power, by the look of it. Certainly someone who wasn’t afraid of anything. Shannon had a memory-flash of Kelly wading into the kids, unafraid even when that kid pulled a knife on her. She was some special person, whoever she was. Those fighting skills, this place — maybe she was some sort of secret agent? But what would a secret agent want with her, Shannon?

Shannon stepped out of the shower, dried herself and pulled on the clothes Kelly had given her. They were so different from anything she’d worn. Top designer labels. Quality material. Stuff that would last, rather than just fray or have holes in after being worn a few times. Shannon had never put on anything like this stuff before, ever.

Dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror, at the clothes. This wasn’t her. But she wasn’t Kelly. She was . . . Shannon in a weird disguise.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. After all the shit she’d suffered these last two days, at last she’d found someone who had cared enough about her to look after her, protect her.

She opened the bathroom door, and stopped. Kelly had Shannon’s bag open and everything out of it, and was searching the empty inside. Kelly stopped as she saw Shannon. Suddenly there was no longer any friendliness on her face.

Shannon looked at Kelly, stunned.

‘What are you doing?’ she stammered.

‘Where are the Pringles?’ demanded Kelly harshly.

Shannon gaped at her. Pringles? All this was about a box of Pringles?! Shannon stared at Kelly, who looked really agitated. She must be on crack or something, thought Shannon. Something doing some weird shit to her brain. The situation was now dangerous. She could see it in Kelly’s eyes.

‘If you want Pringles I’ll get you some,’ she offered. ‘Or any sort of crisps you want.’

Kelly threw Shannon’s bag down and advanced towards her, her whole body menacing.

‘Where are the fucking diamonds that were in the Pringles box?!’ she snarled.

Shannon’s mind was reeling.

‘What diamonds?’ she said, bewildered.

Kelly let out a roar of anger and hurled herself towards Shannon, hands like claws reaching out. Frantically, Shannon threw herself backwards into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, slipping the lock as she did so. She felt the door shudder as Kelly smacked into it. A howl of rage came from the other side of the door.

‘Open the fucking door!’ stormed Kelly. ‘If you wanna live, you little bitch, open this door right now!’

12

Shannon stood, shaking. This couldn’t be happening. Diamonds! What diamonds? How had they got into that box of Pringles? And how did Kelly know she’d taken the Pringles?

Outside the bathroom, Kelly was speaking again, her voice calmer now, but Shannon could tell she was doing her best to contain her anger.

‘Just tell me where they are. That’s all I want to know.’

Shannon stumbled to the bath and sat down on the edge. She’d already seen Kelly in action against a gang of armed kids. Kelly would just destroy someone like Shannon.

Shannon looked around the bathroom. There was no way out, except through the door. And Kelly was on the other side.

‘A lot of people have worked very hard for this. Just tell me what you did with them and we can walk away from this.’

The box of Pringles. Shannon had been holding it when the kids attacked her with the paintball guns. It had been knocked out of her hand and fallen down. Should she tell Kelly that? No, because if they went back to the canal and the Pringles box wasn’t there, Kelly would just kill her. And the likelihood was that the box wouldn’t be there. Those kids could have taken it. It could have rolled away or been kicked into the canal.

‘Come on, just take a breath and tell me,’ came Kelly’s voice. She was doing her best to sound calm and friendly, but Shannon had seen Kelly’s eyes just before she slammed the door. Kelly was definitely a killer — Shannon could sense it.

There was silence, and then suddenly the door of the bathroom began to shake as Kelly kicked and beat at it, her voice now raging loudly: ‘Open this door, you fucking bitch, or I will kill you when I get hold of you!’

Shannon looked at the door, terrified. Would it hold against the battering? If it had been one of the doors at her flat, it would have been torn off its hinges at that onslaught, but this was an expensive apartment. The doors were solid wood, the hinges the best that money could buy. Shannon hoped that for the moment she was safe. But how could she get out? There was only one way, and that was through the door, which meant coming face to face with the angry Kelly. Somehow she had to calm Kelly down. Persuade the woman to let her go. The battering against the door continued. Surely even this door wouldn’t be able to withstand it for ever?

‘OK, OK!’ Shannon shouted. ‘I’ll tell you!’

Immediately the banging and kicking stopped.

‘Where are they?’ demanded Kelly.

‘Back away from the door and promise me you won’t hurt me.’

There was a pause, and then Kelly said, ‘I promise.’

‘You’re still too close,’ said Shannon. ‘Move back and call again so I can hear you’ve moved away.’

There was another pause, then Shannon thought she heard Kelly’s footsteps on the floor walking back. Finally Kelly called, ‘OK! I’m away! Open the door!’

Shannon hesitated. What would happen when she did? Would Kelly attack her? She was sure to, and Shannon doubted if she would be able to defend herself against her. She looked around the bathroom for something — anything — she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing.

‘Come on!’ called Kelly impatiently. ‘Open the door!’

The door, thought Shannon. Solid and heavy. It was the only thing she had on her side.

‘I’m opening it now!’ she called.

She slipped the lock open, turned the handle, opened the door and peered out. Kelly was standing back from the door, as she’d promised. She was holding Shannon’s bag with one hand, and her other hand was behind her back.

What’s she holding? thought Shannon. Something to hit me with?

‘Come on out,’ said Kelly.

‘No,’ said Shannon, stepping back a bit into the bathroom. ‘You come here. Slowly.’

Kelly hesitated, as if deciding what to do, and then she nodded and moved forward.

‘And put your hands where I can see them,’ said Shannon.

Kelly stopped, and once again Shannon saw the anger and violence flare up in the woman’s face. Then Kelly let out another roar of rage and rushed towards Shannon, her hand coming out from behind her back. Shannon was shocked to see a gun pointed straight at her as Kelly charged, and for one heart-stopping second Shannon was too stunned to do anything, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. And then, as Kelly dived towards her, Shannon kicked the bathroom door shut with all her might.

The hard wood smashed into Kelly full face, hitting her with the combined force of Kelly’s speed, Shannon’s kick, and the weight of the heavy door.

Kelly crumpled to the floor in the doorway of the bathroom, her eyes wide open but blank, the gun falling from her hand. Shannon didn’t wait to find out if the woman was alive, dead or just unconscious. She scooped up her bag from the floor and ran for the door of the apartment as fast as she could.

As she tore the door open she heard a cough and a groan behind her. Then she was running for the stairs and racing down them at breakneck speed, as fast as her legs would carry her.

13

The canal. It was quiet now. The kids had gone. Everyone had gone. Everyone except Shannon.

She walked down the steps to the canal path and headed for the bench where she’d been sitting when she was attacked. If the Pringles box was going to be anywhere, it would be there. It should be there.

As she walked, her eyes scanning the ground, she shook her head to try and shake off this feeling that everything was going crazy around her. Diamonds! Why would there be diamonds inside a box of Pringles?

She remembered the news item on the TV, the newsreader talking about a diamond robbery in Amsterdam. This wasn’t Amsterdam, this was London. How did it all fit together? It was mad. Unreal. But Kelly had been real enough, as had the gun she’d been holding, ready to shoot Shannon.

She reached the bench and looked around. No sign of a Pringles box. As she’d thought, the box must have rolled or been kicked away. Maybe gone into the canal. Or maybe someone had seen it and picked it up and opened it, and found the diamonds. If there really were diamonds inside it.

But why would anyone pick up a box of Pringles? Not to eat it. Anything could have happened to it. A dog could have pissed on it. It could be germy. Diseased. No, it was more likely that someone had seen it and kicked it into the canal for fun.

Then, as she was turning away, she saw it, wedged behind one leg of the bench. She picked the box up, flipped off the plastic lid and turned the tube upside down. A little black bag fell into her hand.

She dropped the box and carefully opened the black bag.

It was full of diamonds.

Even in this half-light she recognised them for what they were, sparkling brilliantly, just like they did in the TV commercials.

Diamonds. Thousands and thousands of pounds’ worth . . . No, make that millions of pounds’ worth! And she had them right here in her hand.

Shannon wasn’t sure how she got home. All she knew was that she did. No one came after her. No one attacked her. Once home, she was dimly aware of her father in the living room, but she didn’t stop to say anything. What could she say? ‘I’ve got a shitload of stolen diamonds’?

She walked into her room, shut the door and threw herself on the bed. She was going to lie here and think about everything that had happened to her since Friday. She was going to work it out. Work out what to do. About the diamonds. About her friends. About her mum. About her life.

Instead, without realising it was happening, she fell asleep. It was as if the pain and terror of the whole past few days had suddenly overwhelmed her and her body and brain were desperate to switch off before she went into meltdown.

There, on her unmade bed, wearing another woman’s clothes, and with a fortune lying on her bedside table in a little black bag, Shannon slept.

14

When Shannon woke the next morning it was ten o’clock, and her first thought was that it must have all been some weird dream. But then she looked down at the clothes she was wearing, and at the black bag on her bedside table, and knew it was real. As she moved to get up, she felt an ache in her ribs from where she’d been kicked by the kids. Definitely no dream.

She picked up the little black bag and opened it. They were still there, the diamonds, glinting and beautiful. If you liked that sort of thing, thought Shannon. What was that song? Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend. Not me, she thought.

She thought again about how she’d got hold of them. Ted’s 24-Hour Mart. Jo and Dillon kissing, Shannon throwing money at Jo and snatching the box of Pringles from the display, and the rest of the boxes falling down.

Did they all contain diamonds, or just that one box?

She had to phone Jo. She was the only one who could throw light on the mystery, on what was going on.

She reached for her bag to get her mobile, and remembered it was gone. All the stuff in her bag had been scattered about that room by Kelly. There was no way to get hold of it now.

Shannon hurried downstairs to the hallway, picked up the landline and phoned Jo’s number. The voicemail kicked in almost straight away.

Shit! thought Shannon. She heard the beep for her to leave a message and said, ‘Jo, it’s Shannon. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I think I got some stolen diamonds from your shop, so gimme a call. On my home phone. Please.’

She hung up. She wondered where Jo was, and why her phone was switched off. Was she with Dillon? Lying in bed with him, screwing?

The phone ringing made her jump and she snatched it up.

‘Jo?’ she burst out.

‘No, Kerrys,’ said Kerrys’s voice. ‘Listen, I got a message. Cassandra found a note meant for you.’

Her mum’s note!

‘Where is it?’ asked Shannon.

‘Like I say, Cass had it. She phoned me from New York  . . .’

New York! She’d have to wait for ages before she could hold it and read it. She put her hand to her head, a sick feeling in her stomach.

‘I’m sorry, Kerrys, I can’t talk now,’ she said numbly. ‘I gotta do things.’

With that, she hung up. She looked down at the clothes she was wearing, Kelly’s clothes, and felt anger surge through her. This wasn’t her! She had to get control of her life!

She ran back up the stairs to her room and tore off the clothes as if they were contaminated. Which they were. Everything about Kelly was contaminated. She slipped into her combats and black hoody. Now she was Shannon again. She was Shannon, and she was going to get answers.

She went back downstairs and into the living room. Her father was slumped on the couch, a bottle of vodka cradled in his hand. Had he even moved since last night?

‘Where’s Mum gone?’ she asked. ‘Gimme her address.’

Her father looked at her, his eyes red-rimmed and bleary. Hurt and hurtful.

‘You know what?’ he slurred. ‘I’ve changed my mind. This is your fault!’

He pushed himself up off the couch, but immediately stumbled and sank back down.

‘Just tell me where she is,’ said Shannon, her voice firm. She didn’t have time for this.

Her father looked at her, at first belligerently, and then he subsided, like a punctured balloon. Now he just looked small and shrivelled and sad. His head dropped down, then he forced it up again. He pointed at a Post-it note stuck to the TV.

‘Your Aunt Sandy gave me a forwarding address,’ he said.

Shannon strode over to the TV set and snatched the Post-it note.

‘Are you going to bring her back?’ her father asked.

Shannon looked at him. He looked old and tired, his voice whining, self-pitying, beaten.

‘Why would I do that?’ asked Shannon.

And she left, clutching the Post-it note in her hand.

15

Shannon stood in the cover of an alley to the side of the apartment block, her eyes on the entrance, doing her best to look inconspicuous. This place looked plush. Maybe not as plush as Kelly’s apartment block, but more than Shannon’s flats. There’d be security here, watching out for people like her, kids with hoods hiding their faces. She was surprised no one had come to warn her off already; she’d been here quite a while, waiting.

She’d pressed the bell when she arrived, but there’d been no answer. Security keypads meant she couldn’t just wander in, she had to be let in. And so she waited.

Suddenly she saw her mother, walking towards the apartment block. But it was her mother like she’d never seen her before. Glowing. Bouncy. Arm in arm with a man who was as different from her father as any man could be. Handsome, cool, rich-looking. Confident. Smiling and chatting away.

Shannon stepped out from the side alley into their path, and her mother stopped, her mouth opening in shock.

‘Shannon!’ she exclaimed. She looked confused, bewildered. ‘How did you . . . How did you . . . ?’

‘Not “How are you?”’ Shannon snapped at her, her voice heavy with sarcastic anger. ‘Well, lemme tell you how I am. I’ve been mugged. I’ve been chased by drunk men. I’ve been kidnapped by some mad woman who held a gun on me. I’ve had my phone stolen. And not one of my friends will speak to me for longer than thirty seconds. No one wants to listen to me!’

Her mother still looked taken aback. The man with her looked embarrassed, but he forced a smile to Shannon.

‘Hi,’ he said awkwardly.

That one word appeared to jolt her mother, who seemed aware of the man for the first time, and conscious that she was holding on to his arm.

‘Shannon, my daughter,’ she explained to him. Turning to Shannon, she said, ‘Shannon, this is Carl . . .’

‘Are you listening?’ Shannon shouted angrily. ‘Fuck Carl!’

At this Carl nodded, discreetly disengaged himself from Mrs Richards’ arm, and moved away to let them talk. Shannon watched him go and then turned to glare at her mother. Her mother, in turn, now that Carl had moved out of earshot, glared back at her daughter.

‘I wrote you a note to avoid a scene like this!’ she hissed.

‘I didn’t get it!’ snapped back Shannon. ‘You should have talked to me, not written a note!’

‘Look, this is the happiest I’ve been since . . . before you were born,’ appealed Mrs Richards. ‘You can’t just come up here and mess it up for me!’

‘Why not?’ demanded Shannon. ‘You messed it up for me!’

‘No, I didn’t!’ countered her mother angrily.

‘Yes, you did! You made me get rid of her!’

Mrs Richards fell silent and dropped her gaze, unable to meet Shannon’s eyes for a moment. Finally, awkwardly, she said, ‘It was your choice.’

‘You made me think it was!’ Shannon countered, and now the tears that had been filling up behind her eyes began to spill out.

Mrs Richards looked away from her daughter’s accusing stare, her tears.

‘We talked about it,’ she said defensively. ‘Together.’

‘You talked about it!’ insisted Shannon. ‘But you were only thinking about how it would affect you! Everything was about you!’

‘I stayed in that marriage for you!’ Mrs Richards snapped back, stung. ‘To make life good for you!’

‘Oh yeah?’ spat back Shannon, the tears now running openly down her face. She pulled back the sleeves of her top, revealing the scars on her arms, each one a memory of a cut with a knife, a razor, scissors. ‘Didn’t you ever think to ask me about these?’

Her mother stood, helpless, looking at her daughter’s scarred arms, and her face collapsed. She fought it, biting her lip against her tears, and turned towards Carl.

Shannon rolled down her sleeves, gave her mother one last bitter look, then turned and walked away.

Night. Shannon was going towards Westminster Bridge. The little black bag with the diamonds was in her pocket. She walked along the pavement of the bridge, heading for the middle. The Thames moved and rocked and the reflected lights formed patterns on the surface of the dark waters.

She’d show them. All of them. Her mother. Her so-called friends. Her enemies. The kids who’d hurt her. The woman who’d tried to kill her. Dillon. Her father. The list stretched back. Well, it stopped here. Tonight. Right now.

Tonight was the end.

CASSANDRA

16

Friday

Cassandra sat in the back of the Bentley, looking at the back of Ronald’s head. Ronald the driver, complete with uniform and peaked cap. What did it say about her? That she was some spoilt rich bitch, protected from the world by her parents’ money? She wondered if that was how the other girls saw her. They always seemed so together, Cass, Kerrys, Jo and Shaz, but their lives were planets apart. Look at how Kerrys had dealt with that creep in the Cappuccino just now, smacking him to the floor, real street style. And Jo, working at that 24-hour convenience store when she wasn’t at college. Even Shannon was more street than Cass.

Her thoughts turned to her upcoming flight to New York. Not the audition with Mr Larofsky — that was really so important it went without saying. No, she thought about Brett. In just a few hours she would be in his arms, naked, her body against his, his penis inside her, feeling that for the very first time . . .

‘We’re here, Miss Cassandra.’

Ronald’s voice jolted her out of her dream. They were outside her apartment block.

‘Thank you, Ronald,’ she said.

She got out and went into the block, caught the lift up, all the way wondering what Brett would be like in real life. In his pictures he looked fabulous: handsome, with the nicest smile she’d ever seen. He looked so cool, and there was something special in his eyes: caring, concern. She couldn’t wait to get her arms around him.

She was about to unlock the door of her apartment, when she saw that the door was already open, and a feeling of anger welled up inside her. It had to be her mother. Again!

She walked in and, sure enough, Mrs Phillips sat on the couch, like a queen bee in the centre of her domain.

‘You can’t just walk into my flat whenever you want!’ Cassandra told her angrily.

Her mother looked coolly back at her.

‘As long as your father and I pay the mortgage, I can,’ she retorted. She got up from the settee and added, ‘I’m here to make sure everything’s set and you’re ready to go.’

Cass sank down on to one of the plush expensive designer chairs, weighed down by the claustrophobia of it all.

‘Do you have to be involved in everything I do?’ she demanded miserably.

‘This audition is your future,’ her mother told her briskly. ‘Sir Jago Larofsky is only taking on three students when he moves to Europe. You will be one of them.’

‘Providing I’m good enough,’ said Cassandra.

‘You are good enough,’ said her mother firmly. ‘You have the talent and — Lord knows — expensive enough tutors. If your father and I didn’t think you were good enough, we wouldn’t be funding this trip.’

‘You’re suffocating me!’ appealed Cass.

‘Nonsense!’ retorted Mrs Phillips. ‘Are your father and I going with you to New York? No. We just have a determined interest in your life.’

Mrs Phillips opened her bag and took out a bundle of notes, which she handed to Cassandra.

‘Here’s some money for the trip,’ she said. ‘A thousand dollars. I’m sure you can find something nice to spend it on. Also, get something for your father. Cigars or wine. Something men like.’

She looked at her watch.

‘We have to go,’ she said. ‘There have been dreadful queues at transatlantic check-ins lately. Your father’s waiting in the car downstairs.’

‘I could have got a cab,’ said Cassandra. ‘Or Ronald could have taken me.’

‘Don’t be silly, dear. This is the biggest moment of your life so far. Jago Larofsky!’

And Brett, thought Cass.

‘I’ll just check I’ve got everything,’ said Cass.

‘Don’t be too long,’ warned her mother. ‘Traffic to Heathrow is dreadful at this time on a Friday.’

As soon as her mother had gone, Cassandra went to the couch, opened one of the cushions and pulled out a plastic bag filled with cash. This, along with the money her mother had given her, would make this weekend in New York extra special. Money, she thought. It doesn’t make you happy, but it sure helps you be miserable in comfort.

They drove along the M4 towards Heathrow in the Rolls-Royce, her father at the wheel, Cass next to him, and her mother in the back, talking on her phone. The radio was on, a newsreader talking about some big diamond robbery: ‘There are allegations that this diamond heist was an inside job to hide unsaleable conflict diamonds, which could fetch millions on . . .’

Her father reached out and switched the radio off, then asked, ‘Have you decided on the music you’re going to play?’

‘Yes, Dad,’ said Cassandra.

‘And you’ve put the time in on it?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

Mr Phillips fell silent, then he sighed, checking that Mrs Phillips was still engrossed in her phone conversation, before he dropped his voice and said quietly, ‘Don’t let your mother stress you. She wants you to do well.’

‘I know,’ nodded Cassandra. ‘And I’ll do my very best for Sir Jago.’

‘And remember, while you’re there, there’s a certain standard of behaviour expected from you. Don’t forget.’

‘OK, Dad.’

‘No back-talk. You’re not like those school friends of yours you hang out with.’

Cassandra was about to snap back at him, tell him that inside she was exactly like them, but she bit her lip to stop herself.

Mr Phillips looked into the rear-view mirror and saw that his wife was still chatting away, oblivious to what was going on in the front of the car.

‘Open the glovebox, petal,’ he said, his tone casual.

Cassandra did as he said. There was a bundle of banknotes held together with a rubber band.

‘A little something for the trip,’ he said.

Cassandra took the bundle. There had to be two thousand dollars in cash.

‘It’s for . . . just in case,’ said Mr Phillips. ‘Plus a little something so you can buy something nice for your mother, just to say thank you for all the hard work she’s put in. One of those designer handbags, or some good perfume, or something.’ The ghost of a smile crossed his face. ‘Maybe a soul.’

17

The plane was packed. Cassandra sat in an aisle seat, seat belt strapped. Next to her the middle seat was empty, and on the far aisle seat a man slept soundly. Cassandra took out the photo of Brett and smiled at it. Soon, my love. Soon the plane would be taking off, and then she’d be in New York and in Brett’s arms.

‘Hey, I think I’m next to you.’

Cass looked up at the biggest man she’d ever seen. Not just tall, but wide, really wide. He’s never going to fit into that seat, thought Cass.

The man pushed his hand baggage into the overhead bin and then looked down at Cass and smiled.

‘Would you mind if I had your aisle seat?’ he asked. ‘I don’t really like the middle seat. It gives me the jitters.’ He indicated the sleeping man. ‘I’d ask him but he looks out cold.’

‘No, not at all,’ said Cass.

She moved into the middle seat and had barely got herself sitting down before the big man pushed past the sleeping man and then past Cass, his huge arse nearly smothering them one after the other. He slipped down into the aisle seat and gave Cass a friendly grin.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I got more room here. Plus it makes it easier if I need to drop a few kids off at the pool, if you know what I mean.’ And he patted his enormous stomach, adding, in case Cass hadn’t got what he was asking, ‘You know, if I need to take a dump.’

‘No problem,’ said Cass.

The big man grinned and held out his hand.

‘The name’s Larry,’ he introduced himself. ‘My friends call me Big Larry.’ He chuckled. ‘I don’t know why.’

‘I’m Cassandra,’ said Cass, taking his huge hand and shaking it.

‘Nice to meet you, Cass,’ grinned Big Larry. ‘Good to have company for the journey.’

As it turned out, Big Larry’s company did make the journey go faster. He told jokes, funny ones not feeble ones, and they swapped music on their headphones. Larry was comfortable to be with. Not a potential boyfriend, but fun.

‘What do you do?’ she asked him.

‘I’m a male stripper.’

Cassandra looked at him, stunned. Big Larry saw the expression on her face and laughed.

‘Kidding,’ he chuckled. ‘I work for IPS — International Parcel Service.’ He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a card, which he gave her. ‘I do the personal stuff. Hand-to-hand delivery. “You want it there, we’ll take it there.’’ This trip is purely business. I’m flying back tomorrow with some documents, then back again almost straight away. I tell you, Cass, right now I’m spending my life on these planes.’ He shifted uncomfortably and said ruefully, ‘You’d think the boss would fly me first class, right.’

‘I expect it’s too expensive,’ said Cass.

‘No, because the customer pays,’ said Larry. ‘But him, he keeps the price down to get the work, and I suffer.’ He sighed. ‘But I guess that’s the way it is in life. You bend down and let people fuck you in the ass, they fuck you in the ass.’

‘How very true,’ agreed Cass.

As she went through customs at JFK, Cass felt her excitement rising. Soon she’d be face to face with him. With Brett. They’d arranged to meet at a hot-dog stand not too far from Times Square. It seemed a weird place to meet. Somehow Cass had hoped Brett would want to be there waiting for her when she came through arrivals, ready to lift her off her feet and whirl her round, just like in the movies. But he’d said the hot-dog stand. Cass wondered if this particular stand meant something special to Brett. Yes, that was it. It would be like one of those romantic movies, where he and she walked through Manhattan eating hot dogs while holding hands, before he took her to his apartment and made a woman of her.

She got out of the taxi and saw the hot-dog stand, exactly as Brett had described it. Only he wasn’t there. No one was there, except the guy cooking the hot dogs.

Cass put her bag down on the pavement by the kerb and stood slightly distant from the stand, looking around to see if Brett was approaching. Thank God she knew what he looked like: handsome, cool but cocky smile, that blond hair. Though if he was wearing a hat, or a hoody, she was worried she mightn’t pick him out. After all, it was night-time here in New York; most people seemed to have their collars pulled up around their necks and faces.

She checked her watch. Her plane had been on time, and she was where she was supposed to be. OK, maybe she was five minutes late, but after a flight across the Atlantic, five minutes was nothing. Even if he’d been on time, surely he would wait five minutes for her. Of course he would. From the email messages they’d exchanged, she knew he had the kind of romantic soul that would wait for her for ever, even if time itself froze while he waited.

Half an hour passed, and there was still no sign of him. Fifteen minutes ago she’d begun to feel unhappy that he was late. Now she was getting desperate. What had gone wrong? Had she given him the wrong date? The wrong time? No, she’d emailed him the details of her flight, flight number and everything.

Maybe he was travelling from somewhere else. Traffic was bad in New York — everyone said so. Getting to Times Square could be a nightmare. She looked at the traffic. Everything seemed to be moving OK. So where was he?

She took out her mobile and checked it for missed calls, but there was nothing. Brett hadn’t called her. No one had called her.

What had happened to him? Was he ill? In which case surely he’d have phoned her to tell her. Same if he was going to be late.

No problem, she’d call him. At least she had his number. She highlighted Brett’s number and pressed ‘call’.

It rang and rang. No answer. Not even a voicemail service to pick up messages.

What was happening? Where was he? He couldn’t have stood her up, surely. Not after all those messages they’d exchanged by email. He’d been so loving. So thoughtful and considerate. Just like his photo. But he wasn’t here.

Another half-hour passed. She knew she was being stupid, but she didn’t want to leave in case he arrived.

Finally she called it quits. Feeling dead and sick, she was about to hail a cab, when her phone rang. She was so eager in trying to answer it she fumbled with it. Don’t ring off! Don’t ring off! she pleaded.

‘Cass!’ she said urgently.

‘Cass, it’s Shannon!’

Cass kicked herself for not checking the number first.

‘Oh. Hi, Shaz.’

‘How’s it going over there in New York?’ asked Shannon.

Cass hesitated. What could she say? That Brett hadn’t turned up? No, she couldn’t have them laugh at her over this. She forced herself to say, ‘Yeah, it’s great.’

She was still puzzled why Shannon was calling her. It was nine o’clock at night here in New York. Which meant it was some time early in the morning back in England. Really early. Two or three or something.

She was aware that Shannon was talking, but the connection was bad. Something about had she seen a note?

‘A note?’

‘Yes, a note,’ said Shannon.

‘Nope,’ said Cass. She was getting edgy now. She needed the phone free in case Brett called. ‘Listen, I have to go, Shaz.’

‘This note . . .’ began Shannon.

‘I didn’t see one,’ said Cass.

‘It’s really important,’ said Shannon.

‘Sorry,’ said Cass. ‘Look, I gotta go. Bye.’

She clicked off.

18

Cass sat in the back of the cab staring at her phone, willing it to ring, desperate for Brett to call. It stayed silent. Oh God, what had happened? Where was he? Her dream was crashing down around her. She could feel the pressure building up inside her, like she was going into a panic attack.

She had to talk to someone. Maybe she should have talked to Shannon, but Shannon seemed like she was on another planet about something, hung up about some note.

Kerrys. She’d talk to Kerrys. No, Kerrys would shout at her and want to know why the hell she was calling her at this time of day.

Jo. Jo worked at that 24-hour store. She’d be awake.

She dialled, and Jo appeared in her screen.

‘Hi, Jo.’

Jo looked into the phone, at first surprised, then gave a smile. She was dressed in her uniform, yellow and orange top. Cass could see the stacked shelves of the convenience store behind her.

‘Hi, Cass,’ grinned Jo. ‘What’s happening?’

Cass felt tears suddenly surge down her cheeks.

‘He never came!’ she burst out. ‘Brett never came!’

‘Calm down!’ ordered Jo. ‘Have you called him?’

‘Yes,’ nodded Cass dully, now sobbing great tears of misery.

‘You sure you got the right number?’

‘Yeah. Oh, Jo, what should I do?’

Jo looked like she was thinking it over, then she said; ‘Where are you?’

Cass looked out of the cab window.

‘Times Square.’

‘You got money?’

‘Yes.’

‘And your credit card?’

‘Yes.’

‘In that case, fuck Brett. Go shopping. Then just book a flight back home.’

As Cass looked at her friend on the display screen, and heard her words, everything suddenly seemed crystal clear. Yes. What Jo said made perfect sense. She was here to audition for Sir Jago Larofsky. But she was also in New York, the shopping capital of the world. And she had money. Money from her mum, money from her dad, with instructions from them to spend it.

Yes, Brett had broken her heart, but shopping could go a long way to mending it.

‘Yeah, OK. I’ll do that,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Jo.’

She hung up.

Good advice. Good friend. Fuck Brett. She would if she could, but he’d stood her up and left her broken-hearted. So, instead, she’d shop.

It was late when Cassandra finished her retail therapy. As she sat on her bed in her underwear in her room at the Chelsea Hotel, looking at the bags from DKNY and Tiffany and all the others, she reflected that her heart was still broken, but all this would help her get over it. Maybe.

That bastard Brett. He’d seemed so sincere on the Net, and his emails were like they’d been written by a romantic poet. Surely he couldn’t just have been lying the whole time. Well, he sure had done a good job on her. He’d taken her in well and truly. Love? She gave a hollow laugh. There was no such thing as love. Just cheats and liars, and suckers like her who fell for it.

She looked at the audition paper on her dressing table, with the date and time of tomorrow’s audition with Professor Larofsky on it. A sense of rage filled her. Good, she thought. Harness that rage. Play like you’ve never played before, blow the Professor away! Then at least she’d have something to show for her weekend in New York.

The buzzer of her room went, and she frowned. Who could it be at this time of night? Room service? She hadn’t ordered anything.

She walked to the door and looked through the peephole.

It was him! Brett! Standing outside her hotel room!

She unlocked the door and threw it open.

‘Oh my God! You came!’

Brett smiled that beautiful, wonderful smile she’d seen in all those great photos. In one hand he held a bottle of champagne.

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ he started to explain, then he looked at her, standing in her underwear, and a grin split his face. ‘Wow! It looks like you’re expecting me. I hope you didn’t start without me.’

Cass stared back at him, sinking into his beautiful eyes.

‘I don’t know what to say . . .’ she stammered. ‘I didn’t think you were coming . . .’

Brett smiled and stepped inside the room, pushing the door closed with his heel.

‘Don’t say anything,’ he said, his voice low, deep. ‘Talking is cool, but I don’t think either of us is here to do that.’

And he dumped the champagne bottle, threw off his jacket, then reached out and grabbed hold of her bra, and Cass knew she was about to enter heaven.

19

Cass lay on the bed and looked at Brett. God, he was beautiful! His naked body, bronzed and toned. He had opened the champagne and poured out two glasses. He handed one to her.

‘Here,’ he said, with a wicked grin. ‘How about we celebrate your first time? It was good, right?’

She took the glass from him, slightly disappointed. Somehow she’d expected him to say something more . . . poetic. More like the words and emotions in his emails.

She took a sip of the champagne. It tasted . . . flat. Well, flattish. OK, maybe it wasn’t one of the best labels, maybe Brett wasn’t a guy who could afford top brands, but it was the thought that counted.

She patted the bed beside her.

‘Lie with me,’ she said.

She wanted him again. And again. The feeling of him inside her had been . . . wonderful. Yes, there had been pain at first when he’d thrust in, which had surprised her — she’d hoped he would be gentle. Touch her first. Kiss her there. Lick her. Make her ready. Not that she hadn’t been ready. She’d been ready on the plane. But when he hadn’t turned up to meet her she’d closed up again. She’d hoped he’d be . . . tender. She guessed it was just his own need for her that had made him like the tiger he was, pouncing on her, thrusting. So, instead of the moment of losing her virginity being a feeling as if angels were singing and doves cooing, it had been more like ‘Ow!’ followed by another ‘Ow!’

She looked up at him. He was still sitting there, on the edge of the bed, smiling, holding his full glass in his hand.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Drink up.’

She lifted her glass and drank it down in one. With cheap stuff like this, that was the best way. She put her glass down and patted the bedsheet again.

‘Lie with me,’ she repeated, more urgently this time. More needy.

‘Sure.’ Brett nodded. ‘I gotta take a piss first.’

Cassandra frowned. That definitely wasn’t poetry.

‘You’re different,’ she said.

Brett grinned. ‘Hey, I’m the guy in the photos. Don’t I look the same?’

‘But you don’t sound the same,’ said Cass. ‘Maybe it’s the sex and the alcohol, but when you type . . .’

Brett grinned and winked at her, then got up and headed for the bathroom.

It’s strange, thought Cass. He’s like two people. She sat up in bed, and as she did she felt her head go round.

‘Whoa!’

The room was spinning. She put her hands to her head and tried to steady herself. Jet lag? But she was sure you didn’t get jet lag going east to west.

‘Brett!’ she called, struggling to focus.

She forced her legs out of bed and stood up. Immediately her legs turned to rubber and the last thing she remembered was the floor coming up to meet her.

20

Cassandra opened her eyes. She was lying on the bed. She turned her head and looked at the bedside clock, which showed 11 a.m.

Brett? Where was Brett?

She looked around. There was no trace of Brett. There was no champagne bottle. It was like he’d never been here.

Maybe he hadn’t.

She sat up. Her head ached. Brett had been a dream. But what a dream! Whatever she’d drunk the night before, the dream had been so vivid!

She tried to remember. She’d come in from shopping . . .

She looked around the room. The bags with her shopping had gone. Had they been a dream too?

Fuck! It hadn’t been a dream! It had been a fucking robbery! No, a fucking and a robbery! First she’d been fucked, then she’d been robbed.

That bastard!

Suddenly panic welled up in her. The safe! Had he got into her safe?

She threw her legs out of bed, and immediately felt sick and dizzy. He’d drugged her. He’d put something in that so-called champagne. She’d find him and kill him. But right now she had to find out if he’d got into the safe.

She crawled over and typed in the code, then swung the door open.

Everything was still there. Her money, her passport, her handbag.

She grabbed her handbag and pulled it out, but as she did so it tipped, spilling its contents on the floor. The usual stuff, and her audition paper, but what was that envelope? She didn’t remember that.

She lifted it up. It had Shannon’s name on it. This had to be the note Shannon had phoned about! What was so important about it?

She opened the envelope and scanned the note as well as she could with her head banging. As she read the words Shannon’s mum had written she thought, Oh Christ! Oh fucking Christ!

She pushed the note back into the envelope. I have to get this to Shannon, she thought. It was then she noticed the small piece of glass gleaming on the carpet. No, not glass.

She picked it up.

It was a diamond. A perfect little diamond.

How had it got there? Brett certainly hadn’t brought it, that cheap bastard! And if he’d seen it, he’d have taken it for sure. It must have fallen out of her bag, along with the note from Shannon’s mum. But how had it got in her bag? She didn’t have any diamonds on her. She hadn’t bought any during last night’s shopping.

She sat on the bed, the diamond and the envelope in her hands. Two problems. No, three. Brett was another problem. He’d fucked her and robbed her. He’d cheated her. Well, she’d deal with him herself. But first, Shannon’s letter. She dipped into her bag and found the card she wanted. Big Larry.

Big Larry met her in the lobby of the hotel and she gave him the envelope, with Shannon’s name already on it and Kerrys’s address added. Best send it to Kerrys; she’d make sure it got to Shannon.

‘This note really needs to get to London,’ she told him.

‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it myself personally, but I won’t be getting there till tomorrow afternoon. That OK?’

‘That’s brilliant.’ She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘You’re a good guy, Big Larry.’

He grinned.

‘One o’ the best.’

As soon as he’d gone she went to the desk in the lobby. She’d spent time in her room, scrolling through Brett’s emails. He’d been careless. One told her he lived on Bedford Avenue, in Brooklyn. That had been in the early days of their exchanges, when they’d just been introducing themselves to one another. Then later they’d talked about favourite things: animals, clothes, colours, numbers. ‘I like 1028,’ Brett had told her. ‘It’s my door number.’

Now Cass handed the desk clerk the sheet of paper on which she’d written the address: 1028, Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn.

‘Can you tell me how I can get to this place, please?’ she asked.

The desk clerk looked at the address and nodded, happy to help a guest.

‘No problem,’ he said.

21

Number 1028, Bedford Avenue was a brownstone apartment block. As Cass stood on the pavement outside it she felt butterflies in her stomach. What was she thinking of, confronting the creep like this? She was in a foreign city, his city. He was a thief — he was sure to have criminal friends. Maybe he was even armed! The sensible thing would be to call the police, let them deal with it.

But then the feeling of anger filled her at the way she’d been used and abused. Conned into having sex. And not just having sex, but sex for the first time. It should have been special, with someone special, someone she loved, who loved her. Instead this creep had sneaked away her virginity, then doped her and stolen her shopping. Expensive shopping! She wanted to see him, see his face when he opened his door to her. See his shock. She couldn’t recover her virginity, but she’d sure as hell make sure she got her shopping back.

She went into the building and checked the names on the board. There he was. An apartment on the third floor.

As she went up the stairs she wondered what she’d do if he wasn’t in. Wait for him? Where? If she waited outside his apartment he’d see her and run off. And how long could she wait? Hours?

Say he’d just run off and sold her shopping and wasn’t coming back for days?

She reached the door of his apartment. There was a peephole. She moved to one side so she was securely out of his line of vision and knocked. She heard the sound of movement from inside the apartment, the door being unlocked, and then it swung open and she was looking at a boy she’d never seen before. He was young, short and plain, with big thick glasses and unruly fair hair. He looked like a geek.

The boy knew her though. He gaped at her, shocked.

‘Cassandra?’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Cassandra stared at him.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

The geeky boy put on a smile. It made him look even worse.

‘Calm down now,’ he urged.

‘Who are you?’ repeated Cass, her voice an angry shout.

The boy gulped, and forced another smile.

‘I’m Brett,’ he said.

Brett?

Cass stood there, shocked, her brain reeling. This was Brett? Really Brett?

The geeky boy forced his smile even wider, a smile of appeasement, hoping to defuse her anger. All it did was make Cass even angrier. She hadn’t been taken in by just one bastard; there had been two of them messing with her!

Smack!

Before she knew what she was doing, Cass’s bunched fist shot out and hit the geek hard right between his eyes. The geek’s mouth dropped open and his eyes went up into his head, and he crashed backwards into the apartment, out cold.

Cass took a look both ways along the corridor in case anyone had seen her. There was no one about.

She stepped into the apartment, and then stopped, shocked. There were hundreds of pictures of her pasted on the walls. Not just the photos she had emailed Brett, but photos taken from inside her apartment!

Moving swiftly, she hauled the unconscious geeky boy right inside the apartment, then slammed the door shut. She looked at him lying on the floor, and a second’s panic hit her. Was he dead? Maybe he had a thin skull and her punch had killed him.

She knelt down beside him and listened. No, he was still breathing. He was just unconscious.

Well, in that case she didn’t want him being free when he woke up. She was wondering what to tie him up with, when she remembered the cable ties Kerrys had given her. She snatched one from her bag and quickly fixed him to the old weight-bearing girder in the centre of the apartment. The iron girder had been made to be part of the design of the room. Now it was a very safe and secure jail for him, his wrists cable-tied behind it.

She was safe, for the moment. But where was the other one? The one who’d called himself Brett? The one who’d screwed her and stolen her shopping?

She looked at the apartment. Once she got past the images of her plastered everywhere, she saw the rest: the models, the action figures, the movie posters. This had to be the biggest geek of all time, and he’d fooled her into coming all the way to New York to get screwed by him!

There was a groan. The geek was coming round. Cass moved away from him, sat down and watched him as his eyelids flickered and then opened. His mouth dropped open as he saw her and he went to get up and move towards her, but then he became aware of the cable ties tying him to the girder, and a look of panic crossed his face.

‘Please don’t do this!’ he begged.

Cass glared at him, tight-lipped.

‘So what you did to me was fine but I can’t do this?’ she hissed, furious.

‘Please . . . I love you.’

Love? Cass looked at the geeky boy. At Brett, but she found it impossible to think of him as Brett. Brett was handsome, cool. Brett loved her, or he’d said he did. This man was just . . . Eugh! Cass felt her skin crawl as she looked at him.

‘Love?’ echoed Cass sarcastically. She shook her head and looked around the room at the hundreds of images of her everywhere. ‘You’re just . . . obsessed.’

‘No, it’s love,’ insisted the geek, straining at the cable ties. ‘Real love. You’ve got to know that. All those emails, all those loving words. That was me!’

‘So why the scam? Why the other guy?’

The geeky Brett hung his head and said shame-facedly, ‘Would you have really done what you did with him if it had been me? If I sent you a real photo of me, would you have turned up?’ He raised his head and looked at her in anguish. ‘No one turns up when they see what I look like.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Well, one girl did, and she got straight on the next plane back.’ He looked like he was about to cry. ‘I just wanted to see you. He said he’d fix that.’ He looked at her again, his expression appealing to her. ‘He was only supposed to take pictures.’

Pictures! The word sent alarm bells ringing through Cass. Pictures of her naked. Maybe pictures of her being screwed!

‘Where are they?’ she demanded.

‘He hasn’t brought them yet,’ said the geek.

‘But he’s bringing them here?’

The geeky Brett nodded miserably.

‘When?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘A few hours, maybe. He goes at his own speed, does his own thing.’

‘Not any more,’ snapped Cass. She picked up the geek’s phone and shoved it under his chin. ‘What’s his number?’

22

While Cass waited impatiently for fake Brett to turn up with the pictures, she checked the apartment in case there were any other unpleasant surprises lurking about. Geeky Brett sat on the floor, tied up and miserable. Every now and then he begged her to let him go, and each time Cass glared back at him with such venom that finally he shut up.

She checked her watch. Fake Brett was taking a long time. Not that there’d been anything suspicious in his voice when geeky Brett had called him and urged him to hurry over with the pictures.

‘I’ll be there, dude,’ he’d said, his voice sounding so smug that Cass had wanted to shriek abuse at it. But that wouldn’t have given her the satisfaction she wanted. She wanted him here. Tied to the girder like his geeky friend. She already had the cable ties waiting. She wanted revenge!

She flicked on the TV. A news anchorwoman looked out at her from the screen, her face and tone serious. The caption said ‘Global Witness’.

‘The biggest diamond heist ever still reverberates. The authorities want people to report anyone looking to sell black-market diamonds. It’s estimated that one in six diamonds is a conflict diamond . . .’

Cass switched the TV off and turned her attention to Brett’s laptop. The wallpaper was a picture of her, but not one she’d seen before. She clicked on, and saw a folder labelled: ‘Cassandra home movies’. She looked at geeky Brett, a question on her face, and he hung his head in awkward shame.

Cass opened the folder and clicked on the QuickTime movie files, opening first one, then another, then another. They were all from inside her apartment from her webcam. In one she was sitting at the computer with just a robe on, in another she could be seen walking around her apartment, but near enough to her computer for the webcam to pick her up.

‘How did you get these?’ she asked, appalled but at the same time awed as she watched.

‘I hacked into your computer,’ said geeky Brett. ‘That got me into your CCTV system.’

Suddenly the horror of it all overcame Cass. She had been stalked in her own home for ages. She’d been watched, like some poor rabbit, while these two predators groomed her, working out their plan to fuck her and rob her, strip her of everything. Eyes blinded by tears, she turned angrily on geeky Brett.

‘I fell in love, you arsehole!’ she raged.

‘Yes,’ said Brett. ‘With me.’

Fury took Cass over. She kicked geeky Brett in the shin and he let out a howl of pain. She didn’t care. She began to tear down the images of herself from the walls, scattering them on the floor in her rage. It was the sound of her phone ringing that stopped her. She looked at the display, and to her surprise it said ‘Home’. It was Kerrys.

‘Kerrys?’

‘Hi, Cass. Long story, but I’m kinda stuck in your panic room.’

Cass heard the words but couldn’t immediately take them in. Stuck in her panic room? How? Why?

‘What the fuck are you doing there?’ she demanded, bewildered.

‘I stole your keys,’ said Kerrys.

‘You stole . . . ?!’

‘I need the code to get out.’

‘4-3-2-1,’ said Cass automatically.

‘That’s it?’ said Kerrys’s voice, incredulous. ‘That’s a stupid code.’

‘Yeah, a stupid code for a stupid fucking girl!’ raged Cass. ‘I’m gonna kill you when I get back.’

Furious, Cass hung up. Kerrys had stolen her keys! It must have happened in the Cappuccino, when everything had fallen out of her bag. And if her stupid mother hadn’t been in her apartment waiting for her, with the door left open, she’d have found it out when she’d got home and this wouldn’t be happening. Shit! Some friend!

She stormed over to the laptop, clicked on the live feed to her webcam and sat down, stunned at what she saw. It looked like there was a party going on in her place, and a pretty hectic one at that. The sound of the door buzzer jerked her out of her state of shock. Brett!

She scooped up a heavy statue of Lara Croft and just made it to hide behind the door in time, because it swung open and the other Brett walked in, Mr Cool, Mr Handsome, Mr fucking photographs of her! He stopped when he saw geeky Brett tied to the girder, the smile wiped off his face. Mr Cool heard a noise behind him and started to turn, but as he did Cass raised the Lara Croft statuette high and brought it down hard on the top of his head.

He crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap.

I’m getting good at knocking boys out, Cass thought ruefully.

She dragged the unconscious Brett over to the girder and tied his wrists behind it with the cable ties, just like the geek. Then she went through his pockets until she found his mobile phone. The photos of her were easy to find. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at them. These were supposed to be the pictures of her ultimate happiness; instead they made her feel dirty and used. One after another she deleted them, barely able to see what she was doing because of the tears welling up in her eyes.

Her phone beeping caught her attention. Not Kerrys again! No, it was her alarm, to remind her of the time. Of her audition with Sir Jago Larofsky in uptown Manhattan. Which was due to take place now. And instead she was here in Brooklyn.

‘Oh, shit!’ groaned Cass.

23

By the time Cass jumped out of the cab outside the Larofskys’ smart townhouse in Uptown Manhattan she was running an hour late. It had taken forever to get a cab, and then traffic had been a killer. But the main thing was, she was here. And surely, when Cass explained the reason she was late, he’d be understanding. OK, she couldn’t tell him about being screwed by the wrong Brett, that wouldn’t show her in a good light. But surely having her shopping stolen . . .

She hurried up the steps and rang the bell. Then she began to try to calm herself down, taking deep breaths. She had to put on her best ever performance if she was going to persuade Sir Jago to take her on as his pupil. When she played today she had to be brilliant. And for that, she needed to be calm.

She took another deep breath. The door opened, and there he was, standing in front of her: Sir Jago Larofsky. With him was a woman, obviously his wife. Both of them were wearing outdoor coats.

‘Sir Jago, I’m so sorry I’m late,’ said Cass, doing her best to come across as humble and apologetic as she could possibly be. This wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill piano teacher, this was Sir Jago Larofksy, and she had to make sure he listened to her and loved her playing.

Larosfky looked down his nose at her, the expression on his face clearly unwelcoming. His wife looked equally unimpressed.

‘Cassandra Phillips?’ asked Larofsky, his tone definitely unfriendly.

‘Yes.’ Cass nodded. She looked at him, appealing. ‘I have just had the worst day ever in my whole life . . .’

He held up his hand to silence her.

‘Before you attempt any story that is supposed to tug at my heartstrings, I have a rule here that I have kept to for the last three decades,’ he told her. ‘As you young people say, if one snoozes, one loses.’

‘But I wasn’t snoozing . . . !’ said Cass desperately, imploring him to listen.

Larofsky just looked at Cass coldly.

‘You’ve missed your opportunity,’ he told her flatly. ‘Now, my wife and I are on our way to dinner. Please excuse us.’

With that the couple stepped out of the house, pulled the door shut and walked down the steps past Cass to the kerb. Larofsky had barely made a signal, but already a cab was pulling up for them. They got in and drove away.

Cass stood on the steps, her mouth open in shock. Gone! The official reason she’d come to New York, gone, just like that.

Fuck, what was she going to tell her mother?

As Cass walked into the brownstone in Brooklyn she was raging with fury inside. She knew whose fault it was that everything had gone wrong. The two Bretts. OK, only one of them was Brett, but she had no interest in finding out what the other one was called. She just wanted to kill them both.

She’d come all this way to experience True Love and capture the prize of being selected by Jago Larofksy to be his pupil, and she’d lost both in less than twenty-four hours. Thanks to Mr Cool and Handsome Thief and the Geek. Well, this was where they got what was coming to them.

She kicked open the door of the apartment in her rage and stormed in. The Bretts were both where she’d left them: on the floor, tied to the girder. Cass stomped over to them and kicked them both hard twice, making them howl in pain.

‘What did you do to me?’ she raged at them. ‘What did you do?’

‘I didn’t do nothing,’ the handsome fake Brett appealed desperately. ‘You jumped on me! You wanted it!’ He writhed, struggling against the ties. ‘What are you gonna do with us? And why do you have cable ties anyway? Why are you doing this?’

‘Shut up!’ Cass shouted at him. ‘Why am I doing this? Because you took my virginity. And then you took my shopping!’ She stood there, shaking with anger. ‘And just so you know, I’ve deleted all your pictures of me. And now we’re gonna see how you like being on the end of it.’

With that she bent down close to Sneaky Cool and Handsome. He did his best to writhe away from her, shouting, pleading with her, but she stuffed a sock in his mouth and then grabbed his trousers and pants and pulled them down to his ankles, exposing him. Let’s see how he likes his prick and balls being photographed and stuck up on the Web for everyone to see, she thought.

Cool Brett squirmed, pulling his bare legs up to try and stop her photographing him. He was trying to say something through the sock in his mouth. Cass stopped taking photographs, bent down and pulled the sock out of his mouth.

‘What?’ she demanded.

Suddenly one of his hands shot from behind his back and grabbed her wrist in a tight and painful grip.

He’s got his hands free! she thought, horrified.

The next second his other hand swung at her, bunched into a fist, and hit her hard in the stomach. Cass crumpled down, doubled over, all the air gone from her with the pain.

She struggled to sit up.

Panic hit Cass. I have to get away, she thought.

The pain in her stomach where he had hit her made her feel sick. She began to crawl towards the door, but then she felt his hands like claws grab hold of her legs. She tried to shake him off, but he ignored her, just clung on.

‘Let me go, you bastard!’ shrieked Cass.

‘Such a potty mouth for such a hot girl,’ sneered Cool and Handsome. There was real hatred in his voice, real venom, and Cass knew that if she didn’t get away he’d kill her. Again she tried to kick out, force him to release his grip on her legs, but his fingers just tightened on her even more painfully. Slowly, he was pulling her towards him. She turned and saw the evil smile on his face, a leer of sadistic pleasure as he dragged her ever nearer with the strength of his hatred.

Suddenly his expression changed and he let out a scream, releasing Cass. She pulled away and saw geeky Brett had his teeth sunk into Cool and Handsome’s leg.

Cass leaped to her feet and ran for the door. She was dimly aware of Cool and Handsome kicking the geek in the face, then pulling up his pants. She heard geeky Brett call out desperately after her: ‘I love you! I fucking love you!’ Then she had run out of the door and bolted for the stairs. Behind her she heard a yell of sheer hatred and anger from Cool and Handsome, and then his footsteps were right behind her, closing on her.

24

Cass almost fell down the steps of the brownstone to the pavement. Cool and Handsome was so close behind her she could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck. There was a sudden tearing pain in her scalp as his fingers snatched at her hair and pulled her back.

‘Got you!’ he shouted triumphantly.

Cass’s eyes filled with tears, both from the pain in her scalp and from the terror of what she knew he was going to do to her.

‘Hey! Leave her alone!’

Cass blinked and took in a stocky black woman standing by a trash can she’d obviously just been putting out.

Cool and Handsome turned towards the woman, but didn’t relax his grip.

‘Mind your business, bitch!’ he spat at her. Then he turned his attention back to Cass, pulling harder at her hair, making her cry out in pain.

The woman walked towards them, anger firing in her eyes.

‘What the fuck you say?’ she demanded.

Cool and Handsome turned back to her and scowled.

‘I said take your black ass inside. Eat some chicken or watermelon and mind yo’ own damn business.’

The woman glared at Cool and Handsome, then turned and spoke to someone just outside Cass’s field of vision: ‘You hear what he just say?’

Cass twisted so she could see who the woman was talking to. A dozen or so black people were walking towards them. All of them were looking at Cool and Handsome with menace. The woman who’d first interrupted eyed him coolly.

‘I think the first thing you’d better do is let that girl go,’ she said firmly.

As the woman’s friends and neighbours drew closer, Cool and Handsome released his grip on Cass’s hair. He tried to back away, but already some of the people had moved behind him, covering his exit in that direction. He and Cass were surrounded.

The woman looked at Cass.

‘You lost, girl?’

‘Yes and no,’ whispered Cass.

‘Where you from?’

‘England.’

The woman nodded, then said, ‘Now, I take it that you do not want this soon-to-be-ass-whipped little bitch pulling on your hair like he was?’

Cass shook her head in agreement. The woman winked at her and gave her a small smile, then said, ‘Well, you just take your little ass home. We gonna deal with him.’

‘What are you gonna do?’ asked Cass, intrigued.

‘Well, first I’m gonna teach him respect for women. Then I’m gonna get my cousins here to talk to him about racial stereotypes. Like assuming all black people eat watermelon and chicken. After that, he’s gonna understand that although my ass is black, he ain’t got no right to signify that shit to me like I didn’t know already. That is gonna be a hard lesson.’

Cass shot a look at Cool and Handsome. All his bluster had gone and now there was fear in his eyes. You bastard, thought Cass. You hurt me and you enjoyed it. And you were going to hurt me again, really hurt me, and you were really going to enjoy it.

She turned back to the woman.

‘Maybe you could tattoo him as well? So he learns his lesson.’

The woman grinned.

‘What you want it to say?’

Cass looked at Brett, her expression coldly angry.

‘Something like: I used to pretend to be someone else to have sex with girls. Then I got caught and hog-tied and nearly had photos taken of my tiny penis. And every day I look in the mirror I will remember how lucky I am to only have this tattoo as revenge.’

The woman thought it over, and nodded.

‘It’s a bit long,’ she said. ‘But I think we get the picture of what you want.’

Brett suddenly turned to Cass, his eyes desperate.

‘Please,’ he begged. ‘Don’t leave me here!’

Cass looked at him coldly, then flipped him the finger and walked off. Behind her, she saw them closing in on him.

25

Cass sat on the bed in her hotel room. She felt miserable. No, she felt worse than miserable; she felt as if her world had fallen in on her. First Brett. Then the audition for Larofsky. All screwed up and gone. Gone for ever. The only good thing that had happened this weekend was Big Larry taking that note back to England for Shannon from her mum. Big Larry was a good guy. Maybe she should have saved herself for him instead of that creep Brett. Both Bretts.

She wondered if the note had made it safely to the UK, and if Kerrys had passed it on.

She looked at her clock. 5 a.m. 10 a.m in England. She wondered if Kerrys was still at her place, or if she’d gone home. She also thought about the party that had been going on at her place. She’d have something to say to Kerrys about that when they met up, she thought angrily. Kerrys was supposed to be her friend!

She dialled Kerrys’s number. Kerrys answered almost immediately.

‘Hello? Oh, hi, Cass. What time is it in New York?’

‘Five in the morning.’

‘You ain’t asleep?’

‘Long story,’ said Cass. ‘Did you get the note from Shannon’s mum? The one I sent by courier.’

‘Yeah. Wow.’

‘I didn’t have her address. I guessed you’d know where to get it to her.’

‘No problem.’

There was a brief pause, then Cass said, ‘I hope you cleaned up my place.’

‘Yeah,’ said Kerrys. ‘Left it spotless.’

‘OK,’ said Cass. ‘See you later.’

Cass hung up.

I bet Kerrys is lying, she thought. I bet my place is a real mess. She wished she still had geeky Brett’s hacked webcam so she could see what her place looked like. Then she dismissed the thought. She didn’t want that apartment, or even the memory of it, in her life again ever.

She felt angry. Beaten, defeated and angry. And it was all my fault, she thought. OK, not those scum, the two Bretts. That was definitely them. But blowing the audition like that.

And it wasn’t just to please her mother that she’d come to audition for Larofsky. It was something she’d really wanted to do. Playing a piano was like breathing to her. Yes, it was as real and important as that. She couldn’t imagine not playing the piano. And not just playing it, but being the best! She knew she was good. No, she was even better than that, she was special. She could take the world by storm, but instead she’d let her anger, her desire for revenge, get in her way. It was her fault that she’d messed it up with Larofsky. She’d been in control of her life, and then like an idiot she’d blown it.

Well, now it was time to stop being an idiot and get control of her life back again. Time to put her life back on track.

Jago Larofsky woke to a buzzing sound. What was it? Some sort of insect?

He looked at his wife, sleeping. He was half-asleep himself.

Drowsily, blearily, he wondered where the noise was coming from. Then he suddenly realised. It was the door buzzer.

He looked at the clock beside the bed. 5.30 a.m. Who on earth was calling at this hour? And with their finger pressed permanently on the door buzzer, by the sound of it. It had to be some sort of emergency for someone to be ringing like that. But if it was an emergency, why hadn’t they phoned? Maybe it was a neighbour? Maybe there’d been an accident right outside the apartment and someone was pressing the nearest doorbell in panic.

As these thoughts went through his head he was getting out of bed and pulling on his dressing gown, sliding his feet into slippers.

‘I’m coming!’ he called.

It did no good — the buzzer kept sounding, strident and annoying. He opened the door of the apartment. The girl from the previous night was standing there. The one who was late. What was her name? Phillips. That was it: Cassandra Phillips. He stared at her, dumbfounded.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded. ‘Do you know what time it is?’

She didn’t answer. Instead she pushed past him into the apartment, and began to run from the hallway, opening doors, peering into rooms.

My God, she’s mad! thought Larofsky. I’ve let a mad girl into our apartment! She’s going to kill us! He tried to remember if she’d been armed when he opened the door. He had to get help. He was running for the telephone to call for urgent assistance, when the sound of his piano being played came to him, and he stopped. That is superb, he thought.

He forgot about the phone and headed for the piano room. The strange girl was at the piano, her fingers flying over the keys, her whole body wrapped up in the music she was creating. And yes, although it was a piece he recognised, played by everyone, she was creating it.

He stood in the doorway and listened, watching, admiring. It had been a long time since he’d heard anyone this good.

Cass finished with a flourish, and then sat, head momentarily bowed, before she stood up and faced Larofsky. Larofsky studied her for a moment, and then what looked like the ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

‘Despite interrupting my Sunday rest, you countered your tardiness with invention,’ he said. ‘This leaves me to judge you purely on your impromptu performance which,  if I am honest, was . . .’ He hesitated, then smiled properly and said ‘. . . brilliant.’ He gave her a little bow. ‘You have your place next year, Miss Phillips. Now leave, before I call the police.’

Cass smiled gratefully, nodded, and walked out, her eyes shining. She’d done it!

It was late on Sunday when Cass arrived back in London. She knew she should have told her parents which flight she was getting so they could meet her, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want them. She wanted her friends. She wanted to know if Shannon had got the note from her mother. She wanted to talk to the girls about what had happened to her. It had been the most crucial, the most traumatic, weekend of her life, and she needed to share it with people who would understand.

She took out her mobile and dialled Jo.

‘Cass!’ Jo sounded both surprised and pleased. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m back,’ said Cass.

‘You’re here?’

‘Yes. Where are you?’

‘I’m with Kerrys,’ said Jo. ‘Trying to find Shannon.’

‘Because of the note?’ asked Cass.

‘That, and some diamonds.’

‘Diamonds?’

‘We’ll explain when we see you. Where are you? We’ll pick you up.’

‘I’m in Blake Street.’

‘Stay there. We’re on our way.’

Cass hung up. Diamonds? What diamonds? Then she remembered the diamond she’d found in her hotel room in New York. The one that had fallen out of her bag. Her mind flashed back to those items on the TV news about the diamond robbery, and a feeling deep in her gut told her that somehow or other the diamond she had was part of it. But how?

KERRYS

26

Friday

As Kerrys rode the bus home she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy when she thought of Cass. Not about the guy in New York, the ‘love of Cass’s life’ — just the fact of Cass being able to pull out the money and buy an air ticket and book a hotel without needing to worry about the cost. It was the way the other half lived. Half? Hell, it was a lot less than that. Maybe ten per cent of the population had the kind of money that meant they could do what they wanted when they wanted, without worrying.

Kerrys felt in her pocket and her fingers touched the set of keys she’d picked up when they’d fallen out of Cass’s bag at the Cappuccino. The keys to Cass’s apartment.

OK, technically it was theft, but Cass wouldn’t be needing them for the next couple of days. She wouldn’t be needing her apartment for the next couple of days. And Kerrys was sick of living cooped up like a battery chicken in her tiny house, with her mum, her stepfather, her brother Manuel, her baby brother Lewis, and everyone else who turned up to visit. It was like living in the waiting room of a busy railway station. Cass wouldn’t mind if Kerrys took a couple of days’ breathing space, especially if Jas was free.

At the thought of Jas, Kerrys’s face almost broke into a smile. Almost, not quite. The subject of Jas was still a matter of anguish and pain at home. And hateful digs from her brother, Manuel. Her half-brother. God, she hated him!

She jumped off the bus, walked down the street and entered her house. There was a babble of noise coming from the living room, like they had half of Brazil in there, all talking at once. Kerrys moved as swiftly as she could past the closed door, aiming to get upstairs to her room before she could be spotted and dragged in.

She made it and as she went in she saw the lump of a body hidden beneath the duvet and her heart gave a leap. Jas!

She was about to take her clothes off and jump in, but then she hesitated. It wouldn’t be beyond Manuel to allow some of his skanky gang to use her room.

Carefully she peeled back a corner of the duvet.

A girl was asleep in the bed. A beautiful girl. A smile lit up Kerrys’s face.

‘Time to wake up, Jas,’ she whispered as she began to take off her clothes. ‘Mama’s home.’

Kerrys slid into the bed and her arm snaked around Jas’s naked body, her fingers finding Jas’s nipples.

‘Is the door locked?’ asked Jas.

The answer came as they heard a knock at the door, and then the door opened. Both girls put their heads above the duvet and looked at Kerrys’s stepfather, Mr Jauo-Pinto, as he peered round the door at them. He looked embarrassed and half turned his head away.

‘Kerrys, your grandparents and your aunts are downstairs,’ he said. ‘They’ve come a long way, all the way from Brazil, and they need to rest, but they’ve waited to see you.’

Kerrys scowled. ‘They’re not here to see me,’ she said abruptly. ‘They’re here to see Manuel and Lewis. They don’t even like me.’

‘Just come down, please,’ her stepfather appealed to her.

Kerrys let out a heavy sigh.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Give me a minute to get dressed.’

Mr Jauo-Pinto hesitated, obviously weighing up something that was on his mind. Finally he spoke, his voice awkward and his eyes still turned away from the two girls.

‘Also, your mother and I have told you, we don’t want no . . .’ He hesitated, and then looked towards Kerrys and Jas, his expression unhappy, ‘. . . no silly business in the house.’ He looked at Jas, obviously disappointed. ‘I thought your friend would just come up and wait for you.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Jas. ‘I did, but I got tired and fell asleep.’

Mr Jauo-Pinto didn’t reply, just looked at them dis-approvingly and then went out, pulling the door shut.

‘Shit,’ growled Kerrys.

27

Kerrys and Jas walked downstairs. Kerrys saw that Jas looked apprehensive and gave her a smile.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘Don’t let them get to you. Manuel should keep his mouth shut in front of my grandparents.’

They were just about to walk into the living room, when the doorbell rang.

‘Go on in,’ said Kerrys, gesturing at the living room. ‘I’ll join you.’

Kerrys opened the door. Manuel’s friend Dillon was there, with his friend Smoothy. Smoothy looked nervous, but then he always looked nervous around Kerrys. Either nervous or aggressive.

‘What you want?’ she demanded.

Dillon gave Kerrys a smile.

‘How about you?’ He grinned.

Before Kerrys could respond, Manuel had appeared. He pushed rudely past Kerrys, shouldering her out of the way.

Kerrys scowled. ‘What’s the rush?’ she demanded. ‘He your boyfriend?’

Manuel gave her a hard look and for a second Kerrys thought he was going to lash out at her. But instead he just ignored her and turned back to Dillon and Smoothy. Kerrys saw a little black bag change hands from Dillon to Manuel.

‘Here,’ whispered Dillon.

‘What do I do?’ Manuel muttered back.

Kerrys strained her ears and heard Dillon murmur, ‘Just hold ’em here till tomorrow when it calms down. When I get called I’ll pick them up.’

With that Dillon and Smoothy turned and left. Manuel stuffed the small black bag in his pocket, pushed past Kerrys as if she didn’t exist and went back into the living room. Kerrys watched him, suspicious. Something was going down. Something more than just dropping some dope.

She followed Manuel into the crowded living room. Her grandparents were there, as were some of her Brazilian aunts. As soon as they saw Kerrys there was a surge of aunts, all gesturing and talking animatedly in Portuguese as they dragged her over to her grandmother and grandfather, who sat perched on two chairs like visiting royalty. Kerrys allowed herself to be kissed and hugged by her aunts and grandparents. She managed to extricate herself from the scrum and went over to where Jas was standing, apart from everyone.

‘Everyone,’ she announced, ‘this is Jas.’

Her grandmother looked at Jas, then back at Kerrys, then turned to Kerrys’s stepfather and said something disapproving in Portuguese.

She doesn’t like Jas, thought Kerrys. She’s worked out we’re a couple and she’s doing the ‘I don’t like this’ touch.

But she was wrong.

‘Kerrys,’ said Mr Jauo-Pinto, ‘why you wear this top?’

Kerrys, surprised, looked down at her top. It was just a top. She wore this kind of thing all the time. Everyone did. It showed her midriff, and it sure showed her cleavage, but hey! It was what people wore.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ she demanded.

‘It shows your boobs,’ said Mr Jauo-Pinto.

Kerrys shot a glance at her grandmother, still sitting prim and proper on the chair, with that sniffy look of dis-approval on her face. So it was the old bat who objected.

‘Breasts, Dad,’ Kerrys corrected him. ‘Not boobs. Boobs are stupid people or mistakes.’ She patted her breasts. ‘These are not mistakes. They’re there for a reason. To feed babies.’

Manuel let out a laugh. ‘Like you’ll ever be doing that,’ he guffawed.

Mrs Jauo-Pinto shot Manuel a dirty look and he shut up. Then she turned to Kerrys and ordered her, ‘Kerrys, put on a proper T-shirt.’

Kerrys looked at her mother and scowled.

‘Will I, fuck!’ she exploded angrily. She was eighteen. A woman. This was her house as well.

The shocked gasp from her relatives made her look round. Her grandparents were glaring at her, their mouths thin, tight lines. Her aunts were crossing themselves. Kerrys gave a shrug of resignation and headed upstairs. As she did, her stepfather shouted after her: ‘You embarrass me again!’

Fuck you! thought Kerrys.

In her room she went to her drawer and began looking for a T-shirt. One caught her eye and brought a wicked smile to her lips.

She took off the top and pulled on the T-shirt. On the front it had the word ‘Vagetarian’ in huge letters.

They want a T-shirt, they’ll have a T-shirt, thought Kerrys with satisfaction.

She walked back down stairs, opened the living room door, and re-entered the room.

‘There,’ she said with a smile. ‘Happy?’

Her mother and stepfather stared at her, their mouths opening in shock. Her Brazilian aunts and grandparents just looked at their reaction, puzzled. Kerrys turned to Manuel.

‘Hey, Manuel, can I borrow your car? Jas wants to give me a lesson.’

‘Doing what?’ snapped Manuel with a pointed sneer.

Kerrys didn’t rise to the bait.

‘Driving,’ she said. ‘I’ve got my test tomorrow, remember, and Jas’s car is at her place.’

Manuel shook his head. ‘No. I’m meeting someone.’

Asshole, thought Kerrys.

She gave a jerk of her head towards Jas and the two girls headed for the front door and the street. As they closed the door they heard Kerrys’s grandfather ask, ‘What is mean, vagetarian?’

28

Kerrys and Jas walked away from the house, Kerrys scowling. Jerks. The biggest jerk of all was Manuel.

‘My brother’s such an arsehole,’ she grunted.

Jas slipped her arm through Kerrys’s.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘We’ve got each other.’

Kerrys looked at Jas and smiled.

‘We got something else as well,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a present for you. Do you want it?’

Jas grinned.

‘Won’t ever say no to a gift, babe,’ she smiled. ‘Will I like it?’

Kerrys pulled out the keys to Cass’s apartment.

‘Trust me, I think you’re gonna love it.’

Jas and Kerrys stood just inside the doorway of Cass’s apartment. Jas’s mouth had dropped open in awe.

‘Wow!’ she said, stunned.

The place was fantastic. Immaculate. Neat and tidy. Rich. Kerrys’s friend Cass had money. Real money.

‘Wow,’ she breathed again.

Kerrys picked up the TV remote and flicked on the huge widescreen. It was tuned to the news. According to the graphics on the screen behind her, the newscaster was talking about some diamond heist: ‘Documents certifying the stones’ authenticity, their origin and the fact that they had not been imported from conflict zones were also lifted . . .’

Kerrys hit mute and the pictures carried on without the sound.

Jas walked further into the apartment, still feeling overwhelmed by it.

‘You sure Cassandra said this was cool?’ she asked, slightly worried.

Kerrys gave Jas a reassuring smile back.

‘With all our years of friendship she wasn’t gonna say no, was she?’ she said. ‘No problem, baby. We got two nights to enjoy this place. So sit back and relax.’

Jas shrugged, still awed, but starting to believe it. She looked at the TV, where the newscaster was still talking silently.

‘In that case, d’you think maybe we can watch something other than the news?’ she asked.

Kerrys flicked a button on the remote and MTV2 came on the screen. Kerrys raised the volume just enough so it wouldn’t overpower them, then she dropped the remote and grabbed Jas and kissed her, feeling the softness and warmth of her tongue against her own. Jas kissed her back, urgently, and the girls’ hands roamed over each other’s bodies. Suddenly Jas pulled back, her eyes shining with mischievous delight.

‘Hey, you want a Kamagra?’

Kerrys frowned.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s like Viagra.’

Kerrys grinned.

‘In case you ain’t noticed, girl, I ain’t got a dick.’

‘They still work,’ insisted Jas. ‘They make you mega-horny. Me ex-girl’s dad was a doctor. She gave me loads.’

‘Honey, I’m a horny bitch anyway,’ said Kerrys. ‘But sure, let’s do it.’

Jas pulled a plastic bag out of her pocket. There were little blue jelly sachets inside. She took two out, gave one to Kerrys and kept one for herself. They broke open the sachets and sucked the blue jelly out, then washed it down with a bottle of Coke. They dropped down on to the couch. Kerrys kissed Jas, a long lingering kiss, tasting her sweetness. When they came up for air, Jas looked into Kerrys’s eyes.

‘Think you’ll ever go back to men?’ she asked.

‘Why should I?’ asked Kerrys. ‘I’m with you.’

‘OK, but if you had to suck a guy off to save my life, what would you do?’

Kerrys laughed.

‘Buy you nice flowers for your funeral.’

Jas smiled and kissed Kerrys, then slid her tongue out of Kerrys’s mouth and down her neck, licking as she went. She nuzzled into Kerrys’s chest, feeling Kerrys’s nipples hard through the thin cloth of the T-shirt.

‘You wanna go to the Blam Bar later?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Kerrys. ‘But a lot later.’

Her voice was husky.

‘Why?’ asked Jas.

Kerrys tugged at Jas’s clothes, pulling her top over her head, reaching down for the waistband of her shorts.

‘I think I’ve got a hard-on,’ she told her.

And then the two girls were all over each other, tearing at their clothes, unhooking and unbuttoning, hands and tongues sliding into wet places.

29

The Blam Bar was packed, the bass thumping and the music bouncing off the walls. Kerrys and Jas danced, their bodies working in unison, just slightly apart. As Kerrys swung round she felt a hand on her arm spin her further, and then she was looking into the grinning face of a boy who was dancing close to her. Kerrys stopped dancing and gave him the finger, then moved back to Jas.

‘Yeah, I’d love to give you the finger too!’ the boy jeered after her.

The track changed, and Kerrys took Jas’s arm and they headed for the sofa. The boy wasn’t to be put off. He followed them, still grinning. Now Kerrys was aware he had a bunch of mates with him, all looking on, intrigued, curious to see how this was going to play out.

‘Why don’t you fuck off,’ said Kerrys bluntly.

It didn’t wipe the grin off the boy’s face. Still smiling, he asked, ‘You kiss your mother with that mouth?’

Kerrys smiled back. ‘No, but I’ve kissed yours.’

This brought a howl of laughter from the boy’s mates, who clapped him on the back and dragged him away. Jas gave Kerrys an admiring grin, and then saw from Kerrys’s angry expression that she must have spotted something in the club that upset her. She looked, and saw Kerrys’s friend Shannon sitting at the bar. Some sleazy-looking guy was standing next to her with his hand down the back of her jeans, squeezing her arse. Shannon wasn’t objecting. In fact, she didn’t seem to be doing much of anything except swaying slightly and leaning forward and clutching at the bar.

Shannon was drunk.

Kerrys got up and headed towards them, a look of controlled anger on her face. She took up a place just behind the guy.

‘So, what are you doing tonight?’ he was asking Shannon.

Shannon didn’t reply straight away. She seemed right out of it. Kerrys leaned forward and tapped the guy on the shoulder. He turned, and she smiled and asked him, ‘Do you wanna dance?’

His eyes lit up and he took his hand out of Shannon’s jeans. Kerrys obviously looked a much better prospect.

‘Yeah, all right,’ he nodded, smiling.

‘Good,’ said Kerrys. ‘Then piss off and dance so I can talk to my mate.’

The smile was wiped off his face immediately. He looked as if he was going to say something in reply, but the intensity in Kerrys’s eyes made him back off. He shrugged, and then walked off.

Finally Shannon answered the guy.

‘Whatever you wanna do,’ she said. Her words were slurred. Kerrys realised she wasn’t even aware that he had gone.

‘Well, I’m feeling kinda horny,’ said Kerrys. ‘I was thinking we could go back to my yard and press flowers, if you get my drift.’

Shannon swung round, even though the movement nearly made her fall over. Kerrys saw that she had to catch hold of the bar to stop herself from toppling over.

‘Where’s that guy?’ demanded Shannon, looking around.

‘Gone,’ said Kerrys, then she added angrily, ‘What the fuck are you doing, Shannon? Are you nuts? I’m over there with Jas and I saw him touching you up, so I came over.’

Shannon looked decidedly put out, even though Kerrys had saved her from his greasy hands. And worse!

‘Am I not allowed to get felt up?’ Shannon demanded. She leaned in towards Kerrys and whispered, ‘I wanted to go to his place.’

Kerrys shook her head.

‘You’re drunk. He’s a dickhead. You don’t want nothing from him, trust me.’

‘I haven’t drunk that much!’ protested Shannon.

She tried to get off the stool, but her foot was tangled up in it. She tried to jerk free and nearly fell. Kerrys’s strong hands caught her and pushed her back upright on to the stool.

‘Come on,’ said Kerrys. ‘I think it’s time for you to go home.’

Shannon shook her head.

‘I just wanna go with that guy!’ she insisted. Then suddenly her face collapsed and great tears began to roll down her cheeks. ‘Jo won’t talk to me. My mum . . .’ Her words faded into a sobbing hiccup, and she lowered her head on to her arms on the bar and cried as if her heart was breaking.

Kerrys looked at her, baffled. What was all this about Jo and Shannon’s mum?

‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded.

But Shannon was gone again and had slumped down, her head resting on the bar, out of it.

Oh God, thought Kerrys. I’m gonna have to get her out of here or she’ll end up being raped.

A noise behind her made her turn. The guy she’d told to get lost was standing there with a couple of mates and a girl. None of them looked happy. In fact, as they looked at Kerrys, she thought they all looked decidedly put out, and they were looking at her like she was to blame.

‘This is her,’ said the boy Kerrys had scared off. He didn’t look so scared now he was gang-handed.

The girl’s face twisted into a snarl and she snapped challengingly at Kerrys: ‘What did you say to my mate?’

Kerrys weighed it up. Four of them, three guys and a tough-looking bitch of a girl. And she had to protect Shannon, who was passed out on the bar. Thinking quickly, and moving even quicker, Kerrys snatched up a half-full pint glass from the bar and threw the contents over a big man and his girlfriend, who were dancing just a few metres away. Then, without a pause, she tossed the empty glass to the guy she’d pissed off. Automatically, he reached out and caught it, just as the big man and his girlfriend spun round towards them, drenched and fuming. Kerrys jerked her thumb incriminatingly towards the guy holding the glass. He looked down at the empty glass in his hand as if shocked to find it there. The next second the big man had punched the guy hard in the face. Whooompff! Kerrys felt the blow as the big man’s fist connected with flesh and bone, and the guy dropped the glass and staggered back, his eyes going round in his head.

Immediately the two other guys with him had jumped on the big man and were sinking punches into his head and body, while the two girls leaped at one another and began slugging it out.

The guy who had been chatting up Shannon steadied himself and his eyes cleared. He couldn’t get to Kerrys and Shannon because the fight that had broken out was now a writhing, struggling, brawling barrier between them. Instead he glared at them, hatred filling his whole face.

‘I’m gonna kill you two bitches!’ he roared.

Kerrys saw Shannon push herself up from the bar top, bewilderment on her face.

‘I thought he wanted to shag me,’ she said plaintively.

‘He changed his mind,’ snapped Kerrys. ‘Come on, it’s definitely time to go,’ she added, a note of real urgency in her voice.

As she grabbed Shannon, Kerrys looked around for Jas and saw her heading for the exit. Smart girl. They’d catch up later. Providing there was a later.

Tugging at Shannon’s arm, Kerrys dragged her off the stool. Shannon immediately fell to the floor. Quickly, strongly, Kerrys hauled Shannon to her feet. She shot a quick glance at the angry guy who was still battling his way through the crush to get to them. His two mates and the girl had now struggled free from the brawl and were right behind him. The hunt was on, and they were the prey!

30

Gritting her teeth to hold up the weight of Shannon’s collapsing body, Kerrys steered her as fast as she could through the crowd towards the back door of the club. If she could get Shannon out to the back alley, they might be safe. God, how could someone as frail as Shannon be so heavy?

They crashed through the doors of the fire exit and out into the alley. Suddenly Shannon bent over and vomited.

‘Shit!’ groaned Kerrys.

Kerrys looked around. At any second the doors would burst open and the boys would be out here wanting blood, her blood. One she might be able to take, but not three of them, not drunk as they were, and not with Shannon needing protection.

‘Quick! Hide!’ snapped Kerrys, and she pushed Shannon, who stumbled forward and then fell behind the dumpsters, where newspapers and takeout cartons had gathered, blown by the alley wind. Kerrys watched Shannon hit the ground and then lie still, just before the doors of the club crashed open and the angry guy and his mates burst out.

‘There!’ he yelled in triumph, pointing at Kerrys. He looked at her, his teeth bared in vicious triumph. ‘When I catch you I’m gonna fuck the life out of you.’

I’ve got to draw them away, thought Kerrys. I’ve got to stop them seeing Shannon. She laughed back at the guy, deliberately taunting him as she backed away, drawing them towards her, away from the dumpster and Shannon.

‘It always comes down to that with you!’ she sneered, goading the men. ‘You wanna know something? You couldn’t keep up with me. You’d cum in a second.’ She kept backing away, but smoothly, not rushing. The men followed, their eyes only on her. She mimicked an embarrassed laugh. ‘I swear that never happened to me before,’ she said pitifully. Then she laughed. ‘Anyway, truthfully you’d need a pussy and a pair of tits to get with me.’ She laughed out loud at them again. ‘Actually, looking at you and your two friends there, you might have a chance.’

I’ve got them now! she thought. They were far enough away from Shannon. She suddenly turned and ran, long strong strides that took her round the corner. She heard the three boys yell out in anger and the sound of their thumping footsteps as they gave chase. By then she had leaped up a nearby wall and stood legs apart over the connecting alley as the boys ran past beneath her, blind to everything except running her down.

Fools, she thought to herself. She waited till they had run to the end of the alley and disappeared out of sight, before jumping down and running back to Shannon. Shannon was huddled over, not moving. Kerrys wondered if she’d fallen asleep. She reached down and shook Shannon roughly. Shannon’s head jerked up and looked at her blearily.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘One minute everything was fine, and then . . . then it wasn’t.’

Kerrys gave Shannon a wry grin.

‘I think they liked you,’ she said.

‘Then . . . why did they chase after us like that?’ asked Shannon, her tone one of bewilderment.

Kerrys gave a shrug.

‘Who knows? Maybe you’re that desirable.’ She grinned, slightly more relaxed now. ‘If we could figure men out, we’d be millionairesses.’ She hauled Shannon to her feet and took in their setting: the dumpsters, the newspapers and takeout boxes, the crap. ‘Slumdog millionairesses,’ she added wryly. She released Shannon. ‘Can you stand?’

She watched as Shannon tested herself, swaying slightly. But she stayed on her feet.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘OK,’ said Kerrys. ‘I think you should go home. Be safe there.’

‘OK,’ agreed Shannon. She swayed slightly, took a deep breath, then stood firm again. Suddenly a frown crossed her face, as if she was struggling to remember something important.

‘Kerrys,’ she asked, ‘when we were all together in the coffee bar, did you see a note?’

‘A note?’ echoed Kerrys, puzzled. This was a fine time to be asking questions.

‘In an envelope,’ explained Shannon.

‘Who from?’ asked Kerrys.

Then Kerrys was aware that Jas had pulled up in her car and was waiting, ready to get them away.

‘You wanna lift?’ she asked Shannon.

‘No,’ said Shannon. Then she added with a polite smile, ‘Thank you.’

And she began to walk away, still stumbling slightly.

Kerrys watched her go. I sure hope she’s OK, she thought.

‘I’ll call you in the morning!’ Kerrys called after her.

Shannon didn’t reply, just kept walking. Kerrys shrugged and ran towards Jas and the waiting car.

31

Kerrys woke next morning in Cass’s apartment and looked round it. Fabulous. This was the way to live. Lots of space. Cool decor. Cool clothes. And a cool car to go with it.

But first, get the driving licence.

Today’s the day, she told herself. This time she would pass. By the end of the morning she would have that vital slip of paper in her hand that said ‘Pass’ and she would be free to drive on her own.

As she thought of the forthcoming test she couldn’t shake off the slightly sick feeling in her stomach. How hard could it be? Jo had a driving licence. Jas had one. Manuel had one. Shit, people with less brains and less physical skills than Kerrys had one. OK, she’d screwed up the last test, but everyone did. Or most people did. It was that bitch of an examiner who’d failed her because she didn’t like her. OK, they’d ended up in the instructor’s car in the middle of a round-about, but that hadn’t been completely her fault; she’d just got a little confused between the pedals. Accelerator, brake, clutch. ABC. Only they weren’t in that order, left to right. They were CBA. Clutch, brake, accelerator. What was the use in the instructor telling her to remember ABC, accelerator, brake, clutch, when she read left to right!

And don’t put your feet on the brake and the acceler-ator at the same time, she told herself. That’s where it had gone bad last time.

She took another deep breath. At least the chance of her having that same bitch of an examiner had to be remote. Ten to one against, surely. More. With luck she’d get a black gay woman examiner, someone who’d understand and be sympathetic.

She looked at the clock by the bed. Nearly time.

Kerrys sat in her driving instructor’s car, hands on the steering wheel, going through the procedures in her head. Mirror, look, signal, manoeuvre. Remember to take rear observation. Not just using the mirrors. Turn your head and look behind you. There are blind spots. Make sure your examiner sees you turn your head to make that rear observation. But don’t hold your head turned too long. Just long enough.

‘Ready, baby?’ asked her instructor.

Kerrys looked at him and gave him a confident smile.

‘Born ready,’ she said. Then she laughed. ‘Even though it took six months.’

Her instructor laughed.

‘You’ll be fine.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Let’s go.’

They got out of the car and walked towards the test centre building. As they walked, Kerrys ran through the signs in the Highway Code. Single yellow lines. Double yellow lines. A white circle with a black diagonal line through it. She knew them. She could do this!

Kerrys pushed open the door and walked in. And stopped. She was there. The bitch from last time. She was holding a clipboard, studying it. She looked up as Kerrys entered. No smiles. No welcome. Nothing.

‘Ms Jauo-Pinto?’ she said coldly.

Bitch! thought Kerrys.

Kerrys’s instructor stood outside the test centre, watching and waiting. OK, it was the same bitch as last time, he thought, but Kerrys was cool. She was more mature than the last time. She could handle this. All she had to do was follow the procedures and keep her head. Kerrys could do this. She would be cool. It would be OK.

The sound of tyres squealing made him look up, and then his jaw dropped and he let out a groan as he saw his car, with Kerrys at the wheel and the terrified examiner next to her, skid into the yard and brake with a force that almost set off the airbags.

He saw the examiner struggling with her seat belt, eager to get out, but before she could Kerrys was out of the driver’s seat and had run round to the passenger side. As the examiner pushed the door open, Kerrys kicked it shut with a metallic clang. She then carried on kicking at the car door, and the rest of the body. The instructor rushed forward.

‘Kez, stop! That’s my car!’

He grabbed hold of her from behind and pulled her away, her feet still kicking out, but now just hitting empty air. Kerrys flailed with her arms, trying to break free of his grip around her.

‘Get your hands off my chest!’ she raged.

Reluctantly the instructor released her, poised to grab her if she started attacking his car again.

The examiner pushed the door open, got out of the car, glared at both Kerrys and her instructor and stalked off towards the test centre building. Kerrys let out a groan and dropped her head into her hands.

32

Kerrys was glad that her grandparents and her aunts from Brazil were gone when she got back home. As it was, it was bad enough to see her mother and stepfather standing in the living room, waiting for her, expectant smiles on their faces. As she walked in they both threw their arms wide and chorused, ‘Congratulations!’

Kerrys shook her head.

‘I didn’t pass,’ she said miserably.

‘You didn’t pass?’ echoed her stepfather, surprised.

‘No,’ groaned Kerrys. ‘And I got banned from that test centre.’

Manuel, who was sitting in an armchair near his parents, sniggered.

‘Figures,’ he chuckled.

Mr Jauo-Pinto turned on his son angrily and clipped him round the ear to shut him up. Then he turned back to Kerrys and appealed to her: ‘Kerrys, why do you do these things? No daughter of mine should behave like this.’

‘No daughter of yours would,’ snapped back Kerrys. Even as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. That was unfair. He hadn’t been a bad father to her. And it couldn’t have been easy for him bringing up another man’s child, with all that Brazilian macho shit. Kerrys’s mother glared at her daughter, furious at her for having said what she said, and then walked out of the room. Her stepfather shook his head sadly. ‘Why you say these things?’ he demanded unhappily. ‘Why can’t you be like . . . ?’

‘Like this little arsehole?’ demanded Kerrys angrily, gesturing at Manuel. ‘Doing his little dodgy dealings that you never seem to notice.’

With that she stormed out of the room. She needed to get out of this house, away from here. As she opened the front door she felt a firm hand grip her arm and spin her round. It was Manuel, and he looked angry. He pushed her against the wall of the hallway and wagged his finger in her face, his voice low and threatening.

‘Hey, half-breed. You better keep your mouth shut about anything you see me do.’

Kerrys felt her face burn with anger. She shoved Manuel back, harder than he had pushed her.

‘What’s your problem?’ she spat at him. ‘You hate me that much because we have different dads? Or you jealous cos I get more girls than you?’

For a moment Kerrys thought he was going to launch himself at her, attack her, and she clenched her fists ready. But Manuel must have seen the anger and determination in her eyes and he just stood where he was, his face twisted into a sneer.

‘Just remember: no matter how bad you think you are, you still have to squat like a bitch to take a piss.’

Kerrys’s open hand swung up and slapped Manuel across the face.

‘You know what? Fuck all of you!’

With that she pushed past him, out of the house.

Shannon was walking down the path towards her. ‘You didn’t call . . .’ she whined.

I don’t need this, thought Kerrys grimly. Tears were already pricking at the backs of her eyes. She didn’t like people to see her cry. Not tough, hard Kerrys.

‘Go away, Shaz,’ she said through clenched teeth, and pushed past her friend.

33

Kerrys lay sprawled on the bed in Cass’s apartment. Junk food packs and beer cans were discarded on the floor around the bed. Kerrys felt . . . abandoned. Abandoned by everyone.

The TV was on, a twenty-four-hour news channel. The newsreader was talking about diamonds again. Fuck diamonds — just give me the money, thought Kerrys.

‘Global Witness claims that terror groups have infiltrated diamond trading to raise funds for their cause and launder huge amounts of money . . .’

The doorbell sounded. Kerrys got up and pressed the buzzer to let the visitor in, then returned to the bed. The newscaster was still talking. ‘It’s claimed that diamonds mined by the rebel group the RUF in Sierra Leone were responsible for 50,000 deaths.’

Kerrys looked towards the door and saw Jas, and her heart lifted. This was what she needed. Arms to hold her, lips to kiss her, a body to press close against her. She smiled and patted the space beside her on the bed.

‘Hi, babe. Come and lie down.’

Jas didn’t come over. There was something in her stance that said something was wrong. Kerrys felt a stab in her heart. What bad thing was going on? She turned off the TV and looked enquiringly at Jas, who held out her hands in a gesture of apology.

‘Kez, I brought someone with me. He came to see me at work. I think you should talk.’

Kerrys sat up, bewildered, and then she saw that Manuel had appeared from the doorway and was standing just inside the room, an awkward grin on his face.

‘What the fuck!’ exploded Kerrys angrily. ‘Jas, what the fuck you doing bringing him here?’

Jas opened her mouth to explain, but before she could Manuel had moved further into the room, his eyes taking it all in, his smile getting broader as he saw the richness and class of it all.

‘So this is Cass’s flat,’ he murmured. ‘Nice. Maybe I should get me in there.’

‘What do you want?’ demanded Kerrys, now standing and glaring at her brother, very angry indeed.

Manuel sighed and extended his open palms towards her in a gesture of surrender.

‘I came here to make peace,’ he said. ‘I promised Mum and Dad I’d come and say sorry.’

But you don’t really mean it, thought Kerrys angrily. You fooled my girl, but I know you don’t mean it. It had always been this way with Manuel, ever since they were kids. Manuel making her life a misery, then apologising publicly when forced to by their parents, but carrying on making her life a misery again as soon as their backs were turned.

‘Fine,’ snapped Kerrys, unmoved. ‘You said sorry. Now go.’

‘The thing is, they want a big happy family thing for my birthday tomorrow,’ continued Manuel. ‘Which means you. Me, I’d rather do a thing with the boys but we gotta keep them happy . . .’

‘We both know it will go a lot better without me there,’ Kerrys told him tersely.

‘True,’ agreed Manuel absently.

Kerrys wondered what he was up to. His attention had moved off her and he was examining the bed, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. Actually, Kerrys had never seen a bed quite like this one, raised up high the way it was, like on a platform or something. Manuel reached his hand towards the bed, his fingers going under it, searching. Kerrys was about to snap at him to get his fucking hands out of it, when he pressed something: a switch or a button or something, because the top of the bed began to slide to one side.

Puzzled, Kerrys, Jas and Manuel moved nearer, looking down into the space below the bed, and continued looking down into the room that was revealed below. It was completely furnished: bed, TV, everything.

Shit! thought Kerrys, stunned.

Manuel gazed at the exposed room in awe.

‘She’s got a panic room!’ he said.

Jas shook her head, as amazed as the other two. ‘Wow! I read about people doing this shit ever since that damn movie came out.’ She shook her head. ‘The movie wasn’t that good, but this . . .’

Kerrys struggled to find her voice.

‘Even I’m impressed,’ she admitted. ‘Cass sure kept this quiet.’

Suddenly she realised that Manuel was climbing down into it.

‘Look at this!’ he said, awed. ‘Toilet, TV, phone, CCTV, food, a bar . . .’

Kerrys hesitated, then she joined Manuel in the panic room, Jas following her down as well.

As the two girls began to examine the equipment in the room, Kerrys became aware of a movement above them. She looked up and saw the bed sliding back into place, and realised with a shock that Manuel was no longer in the room with them.

‘Manuel!’ she began, but it was too late. Her last glimpse of Manuel was an evil smile on his face, before the ceiling slid fully into place, blotting him out completely. There was the sound of a deadbolt clicking into place and a low blue light came on in the room.

They were locked in.

34

Along with the low blue light, all the other electronic equipment came to life as the deadbolt clicked into place. The CCTV display showed four screens: the bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. Manuel could be seen lounging in the living room, one leg slung casually over the arm of a chair as he talked on his mobile.

‘We have to get out of here,’ muttered Jas, pushing against the ceiling and finding it firmly locked in place. There was an illuminated keypad in the ceiling. ‘All we’ve got to do is ask Cass for the code to open it.’

‘I can’t,’ said Kerrys.

‘Sure you can,’ said Jas. She pointed to the landline phone. ‘Just bell her.’

‘I can’t because she doesn’t know I’m here,’ admitted Kerrys. ‘I stole her keys.’

‘You what?!’

‘I didn’t do it deliberately. They fell out of her bag and I picked them up. I wasn’t planning to do this. It just seemed to me that with Cass in New York, and my family being the way they are, we’d have some private time together.’

Jas spotted a movement on the CCTV cameras: Manuel getting up and heading out of the living room. He appeared in the hallway, went to the door, and opened it. Two young men were standing there. One of them held out his hand. Manuel took something from his pocket; it looked like a little black bag. He handed it over to the young man, who took it from him and then looked past Manuel into the apartment. The two girls couldn’t hear what the boys were saying, but it was obvious the young men were admiring the place.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Jas.

Kerrys scowled.

‘Something bad,’ she muttered. ‘That’s Dillon and Smoothy, two of the lowlifes Manuel hangs with.’

‘He slipped them something,’ said Jas. ‘Did you see?’

‘Dope.’ Kerrys nodded. ‘Sure to be.’

She looked at the keypad in the ceiling. She’d seen this on the movies. A four-figure number should do it. Like a PIN. What numbers would Cass use as her code? Her birthday. That’s what they said on TV — people always use their birthday as their PIN. OK. She tapped in the date of Cass’s birthday. A bleep from the keypad. Access denied. OK, not her birthday. Her address? No, that wasn’t four digits. The year she was born?

Kerrys tapped in the year. Another bleep. Access still denied.

Maybe it was one of the other girls’ birthdays? Kerrys typed in her own date. Access denied. Shannon’s. Access denied. Jo’s. Access denied.

On the screen they saw Manuel check his watch and then head out of the front door, taking care to leave something stopping the door shutting completely. You bastard, thought Kerrys. She tried variations on the birthdays: month and year, then year and month. Access denied.

‘This is gonna take for ever,’ moaned Jas.

‘I’ll crack this if it’s the last thing I do,’ vowed Kerrys. She looked at the keypad and gave a heavy and weary sigh. ‘Guess I’ll just start from the beginning.’

She typed in 0-0-0-1. Bleep. Access denied.

0-0-0-2. Bleep. Access denied.

It was the vibration that woke them. Kerrys dragged herself out of sleep and saw Jas pushing herself up from the couch beside her. The panic room was vibrating around them.

‘Shit!’ said Kerrys. ‘What’s happening? How long have we been asleep?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Jas. The walls and ceiling of the room shuddered around them. ‘Maybe it’s some sort of earthquake.’

‘You don’t get earthquakes in London.’

‘Maybe we do now.’

Jas looked towards the CCTV monitor. The apartment was filled with people partying, dancing, drinking, lying around.

‘It’s the music,’ said Jas. ‘The bass is turned right up.’

Kerrys scanned the screens for any sign of Manuel or his gang, but they weren’t there. These were all strangers. Manuel’s revenge: bring in a pack of strangers to party and wreck the place, and when Cass came back she’d open up the panic room and Kerrys would be caught red-handed. Kerrys felt her eyes welling up with tears of anger, and she turned on Jas.

‘This is all your fault!’ she stormed. ‘You brought Manuel here!’

Jas stared back at her, open-mouthed, angry. ‘My fault?’ she snapped. ‘We wouldn’t be here if you could have a decent conversation with your father without mouthing off at him.’

‘He’s not my father!’ rejected Kerrys passionately.

‘Then why do you wind him up all the time and make him shout at you like he is?’ countered Jas hotly.

‘Because I wish he was!’ shouted Kerrys. There, she’d said it out loud. She wanted Mr Jauo-Pinto to be her dad. She knew he did his best, but she never told him that.

To her surprise she found that she was crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. Jas put her arms round her, hugging her tight.

‘It’s OK, baby,’ Jas murmured. ‘It’s OK.’

Angrily Kerrys wiped the tears from her eyes with her hand.

‘We’re getting out of here,’ she said in a low voice full of determination. She picked up the landline and dialled. Cass answered, obviously puzzled as to who would be phoning her from her own phone. ‘Yes?’ she asked.

‘Hi, Cass,’ said Kerrys.

‘Kerrys?’

Kerrys gritted her teeth, took a deep breath. She didn’t have time for long explanations. They’d just have to fight about it later.

‘Hi, Cass. Long story, but I’m kinda stuck in your panic room.’

There was a pause, then Cass said: ‘What the fuck are you doing there?’

‘I stole your keys,’ said Kerrys.

‘You stole . . . ?!’

‘I need the code to get out.’

‘4-3-2-1,’ replied Cass automatically.

‘That’s it?’ said Kerrys, incredulous. ‘That’s a stupid code.’

‘Yeah, a stupid code for a stupid fucking girl!’ raged Cass. ‘I’m gonna kill you when I get back.’

Kerrys winced as Cass hung up on her. Ouch! It was going to take some talking to get Cass to forgive her, but the main thing was they had the code. Now to get these fuckers out of the apartment!

35

The effect on the partygoers as the bed slid back and Kerrys and Jas burst out into the room from beneath it was electric, like two ghosts or Ninjas had suddenly materialised out of nowhere. The couple making out on the bed above the panic room had been alarmed enough when the bed moved and then slid to one side; but the sight of the furious Kerrys appearing from below sent the woman into shock and she began screaming. When Kerrys snatched up a ceremonial sword hanging from one of the walls and advanced on the bed, her expression one of supreme menace, the man began screaming as well and both of them snatched up their clothes and ran.

Jas grabbed hold of Kerrys.

‘Not the sword!’ she advised. ‘You can go to jail for murder!’

Kerrys hesitated, then dropped the sword and snatched up a nearby music stand.

‘Just GBH then!’ she snarled, and began swinging it at the nearest partygoers, at the same time shouting, ‘Get out! Get out!’

Panic spread through the room, people snatching up clothes and bags and running for the door, screaming. It was all over in minutes, the partygoers scattering. Kerrys looked round at the room. The beautiful fabulous room had been trashed, and it was all her fault. No, it was Manuel’s fault. Well, he was going to pay for this.

Suddenly everything bad that had happened to her these last few days — the bag-snatcher at the Cappuccino, the fights with her mum and stepdad and Manuel, failing her driving test and being locked in the panic room — overwhelmed her. Her body began to heave with sobs, and she sank on to the bed. Her life was shit, and it was never going to get better!

She was aware of Jas sitting down next to her and enfolding her in her arms, hugging her, cuddling her close, letting all her agony pour out of her.

‘Come on, baby,’ whispered Jas. ‘It’s OK. You got me.’

It was her phone that woke Kerrys. She snatched it up. It was Cass.

‘Hello? Oh, hi, Cass. What time is it in New York?’

‘Five in the morning.’

‘You ain’t asleep?’

‘Long story,’ said Cass. ‘Did you get the note from Shannon’s mum? The one I sent by courier.’

Kerrys hesitated. What note? Then she realised Cass must have sent it to her house. Which was where Cass thought she was now, instead of still here in Cass’s apartment.

‘Yeah,’ said Kerrys. ‘Wow.’

She threw in the ‘Wow’ because if Cass had gone to all the trouble and expense to jet a note over from New York instead of waiting another twenty-four hours, there had to be something really special in it.

‘I didn’t have her address,’ said Cass. ‘I guessed you’d know where to get it to her.’

‘No problem,’ Kerrys assured her.

There was a brief pause, then Cass added, ‘I hope you cleaned up my place.’

‘Yeah,’ lied Kerrys. ‘Left it spotless.’

‘OK,’ said Cass. ‘See you later.’

There was a click, then Cass had gone.

OK, thought Kerrys. Three things to do: one, clean up the apartment; two, go home and find this note from Shannon’s mum; three, let Shannon know about the note. Number three first. She dialled Shannon’s mobile. No answer. She tried her landline. This answered immediately and Shannon burst out, ‘Jo?’

‘No, Kerrys,’ Kerrys told her. ‘Listen, I got a message. Cassandra found a note meant for you.’

‘Where is it?’ asked Shannon.

‘Like I say, Cass had it. She phoned me from New York . . .’

‘I’m sorry, Kerrys, I can’t talk now,’ Shannon cut in. ‘I gotta do things.’

And then the phone went dead.

Kerrys looked at the phone, bewildered. This note obviously meant something. Cass had said so, and the tone of anguish in Shannon’s voice when Kerrys had told her about it reinforced that. So why had Shannon blown her off like that?

The note. The answer would be in the note. She had to get home and find it.

She looked around the wrecked apartment. But first she had some cleaning to do.

36

Kerrys arrived at her house. Her brother’s birthday bash was already in full family swing. At least Kerrys guessed so from the new car, complete with a coloured ribbon tied in a bow around the aerial. Happy birthday, brother. A whole fucking car! As she entered the house the first person she saw was Manuel. He froze, a moment of panic on his face, wondering what Kerrys was going to do in the way of revenge for locking her in the panic room and filling the apartment with partygoers. Kerrys just blanked him and walked past, into the living room.

The room was empty. The party hadn’t started yet, just the present-giving. She hurried to the table where the post was. There wasn’t much — most of the post had been birthday cards for Manuel, and they were now proudly displayed around the room. But there was a large envelope stamped IPS, with her name written on it. Kerrys tore the envelope open and took a smaller white envelope from inside. It had ‘Shannon’ on it, and she began to read. OK, it was private, but the envelope was already open, and she had to know what was going on, find out what sort of trouble her friend was in. As she read the words her mouth opened in shock. No! Not Shannon!

A slight cough behind her made her turn. Her stepfather was standing behind her, looking at her disapprovingly.

‘It’s your brother’s birthday,’ he told her. There was no anger in his voice, no rage, just disappointment. Once again, Kerrys felt her emotions being pulled by him.

‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ she said quietly, genuinely.

Mr Jauo-Pinto shook his head sadly as he looked at her.

‘Why do you do these things?’ he asked. ‘It hurts me. What have I done to deserve this?’

Kerrys sighed, a deep sigh, and moved nearer her stepfather.

‘I want you to love me, Dad,’ she told him. ‘I want you to hug me. I want to know that when you look at me you don’t see an embarrassment but you see your daughter  . . .’

Mr Jauo-Pinto’s eyes filled with tears as he heard her say this, and he moved forward, taking her in his arms. He hugged her to him, his heart going out to her.

‘When we had Manuel, we were young, your mother and I,’ he said, his voice near to breaking with the tears. ‘Then your mother left me. I had cheated. I was a bad husband.’ He sighed heavily. ‘She got with another man. When I saw her just a year later, I knew I’d been a fool. The other man was gone, and she was already pregnant with you.’ He leaned back from her slightly, his arms still wrapped around her, and looked her full in the face as he said, ‘I was at your birth. I’m your father. You are my little girl. I love you most.’

Kerrys felt herself fill up at these words. She hugged him back tightly. Her father.

‘Please, promise me, you’ll be a good girl,’ he whispered in an appeal.

Kerrys leaned back and smiled genuinely at him.

‘I will, Dad,’ she assured him. Then she remembered she still had one piece of unfinished business she had to deal with. ‘Starting next week.’

Mr Jauo-Pinto looked at her, puzzled. Then, when he saw the broad and warm smile on her face, for him, he laughed.

Kerrys laughed with him, then gave him a kiss on the cheek and hurried up to her room. He thought she was making a joke, but Kerrys was serious. There was no way Manuel was getting away with what he’d done.

Kerrys opened her bag and took out the Kamagra sachets Jas had given her. She had just begun squeezing the contents into a glass when her phone rang. It was Jo.

‘Kerrys, is Shannon with you?’

Jo sounded worried.

‘No,’ said Kerrys. ‘Why?’

‘I fucked up big time,’ sighed Jo.

‘Well, when she reads the note her mum wrote her, she ain’t gonna be happy.’

‘Note?’ asked Jo. ‘What note?’

‘Long story,’ said Kerrys, ‘but she’s gonna need us.’

‘OK,’ said Jo. ‘The thing is, if anything happens to me, it’s someone called Tee.’

Kerrys frowned, baffled.

‘What do you mean, if something happens to you?’ she demanded. ‘Who’s Tee?’

But she was speaking to nothing. Jo had gone.

‘OK,’ she said to herself. ‘Jo’s in trouble . . . maybe. If she ain’t, she won’t want me busting in. But if she is, I’m gonna be there.’ She looked at the Kamagra and gave a smug smile. ‘Once I get this done.’

She continued squeezing the blue jelly into the glass. Manuel was so proud of being a macho man — well, she was going to give him something to be really proud of.

37

The whole family was in the living room when Kerrys returned to it: Manuel, Mum, Dad, grandparents, aunts and uncles, family friends, all praising Manuel for having reached this birthday and for being ‘such a lovely young man’. Kerrys carried the two full glasses over and handed one to him. She gave him a smile. ‘Let’s do this for Mum and Dad,’ she said. She turned to the others, smiling widely at them. ‘Everyone knows me and my brother don’t always get along. I wanted him to know that I’m sorry for being the way I am sometimes, and deep down  . . . I love him.’

She smiled at them all, her glass held aloft in a toast.

‘Happy birthday!’ she said loudly and cheerfully.

The family and friends cheered, and scrambled for their glasses to raise them, full or not. Her parents smiled, and Kerrys could once more see tears in her dad’s eyes. Kerrys turned to Manuel, still smiling. Manuel smiled back at her, then leaned in and whispered, ‘You think I’m drinking this? I’m not stupid.’

Still smiling, he reached to take her glass from her hand. Kerrys kept the smile on her face, but she resisted, gripping her glass tighter as his fingers pressed against hers, trying to force the glass out of her hand. All the time, they kept the smiles on their faces as they looked at one another, eyes locked, while the family smiled too: brother and sister happy now, but still playing games with one another. Finally, Manuel dug his finger beneath one of Kerrys’s fingernails, pushing it back, and she was forced to release her hold on the glass. Immediately, Manuel snatched the glass from her and forced his own glass into her hand. He grinned at her and winked, and then downed the drink in one gulp.

Kerrys shrugged resignedly, and downed her drink. Manuel looked at her, surprised. Kerrys put the empty glass down and went to her dad and mum, hugged them both and kissed her mum, and baby Lewis, who was cradled in her mum’s arms.

‘Manuel is so happy,’ her mum whispered.

‘He’s also so predictable,’ Kerrys said. She turned to her brother, gave him a last smile and left the room.

As Kerrys left the living room, the doorbell rang. She opened the door and saw Jas standing there. She looked uncomfortable.

‘I didn’t know whether to come,’ she began awkwardly. ‘You know, it being Manuel’s birthday, and after what happened . . .’

Kerrys gave her a smile.

‘I’m glad you came,’ she said. ‘But let’s go up.’ She indicated the living room. ‘That place is packed like a tube train at rush hour.’

The two girls walked upstairs to Kerrys’s room.

‘Look, babe, I’m sorry I brought Manuel over,’ apologised Jas. ‘I really thought . . .’

Kerrys shook her head.

‘Don’t worry about it, babe,’ she said. ‘It’s no problem.’ She felt the envelope in her pocket, and the image of Shannon flashed into her mind. Shannon, worried, distracted, her strange manner on the phone.

‘I just gotta call Shannon,’ she said to Jas, and dialled Shannon’s mobile. As before, there was no answer. She dialled the landline again, but this time just got the answerphone. She left a message.

‘Hi, Shannon. It’s Kerrys. Call me back.’

She hung up.

‘Answerphone?’ asked Jas.

Kerrys nodded.

‘Is something goin’ on?’ asked Jas.

Again Kerrys nodded.

‘Yeah,’ she said.

‘What is it?’

Kerrys sighed, weighing it up, then said, ‘Her mother wrote her a note. Only it didn’t get to her. For some reason Cass got it instead. And she sent it to me.’

Jas looked at her, stunned.

‘Not from New York?’

Kerrys nodded again.

‘Wow, must be some note!’ said Jas, awed.

‘It is,’ said Kerrys, a sad tone in her voice.

‘You read it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Kerrys.

There was a pause, then Jas asked, ‘And?’

Kerrys shook her head.

‘I gotta let Shannon see it first,’ she said. ‘It’s her thing.’ She gave a heavy sigh. ‘And she’s gonna need friends.’

38

Kerrys and Jas sat watching the TV. About an hour had passed since Jas had come over. It was night now and the party was in full swing. Jas had worried that Kerrys was being unusually silent. Like she was waiting for something, or someone. Jas was aware that Kerrys’s attention was only half on the TV; she was listening to the sounds of the music pulsing, voices rising and falling. Jas felt her heart sink a little at Kerrys being so . . . silent. So distant. She was obviously upset at Jas bringing Manuel to Cass’s place. And she was right to be so.

‘You think we ought to go down there?’ asked Jas tentatively. ‘Manuel’s party an’ all? Your mum and dad?’

Kerrys gave a small, tight grin.

‘I think we will,’ she said grimly.

‘When?’ asked Jas. When Kerrys didn’t reply, Jas said, ‘Look, I know I messed up bringin’ Manuel over to Cass’s  . . .’

Kerrys held up a hand to stop her.

‘Like I said, babe, that ain’t no sweat,’ she said. ‘I’ve sorted him out for what he did.’

Jas frowned, puzzled.

‘What do you mean? How? When?’

‘How? You’ve got to wait and see. As for when . . .’ Kerrys looked at her watch. ‘I’m thinkin’ maybe right about . . .’

There was the sound of a scream from downstairs.

‘I think that’s it,’ grinned Kerrys, and for the first time since Jas had got there, Kerrys appeared to be genuinely laughing as she got up and ran out of the room. Jas stared at her, bewildered, and then ran after her.

In the living room there was consternation. Some of the relatives hid their eyes, others made the sign of the cross, while Kerrys’s grandmother stared in horror, her mouth open, at Manuel, whose erection was pointing straight at her, like a weapon. One of the aunts hastily put her hand over the shocked grandmother’s eyes. Mr and Mrs Jauo-Pinto didn’t seem to know where to look, their eyes going to their son and his erection, and then away from him.

Manuel’s face was a picture: distorted, angry, flushed red. He saw Kerrys standing in the doorway of the living room, a wicked smile on her face, and roared, ‘I’m gonna kill you, bitch!’

‘Not with that, I hope!’ Kerrys laughed.

She ran out of the room, snatching up the keys to Manuel’s new car from the hall table as she passed. Manuel struggled through the crowds of family and relatives, bellowing with rage, set on catching her, and the family hastily pushed away from him, all doing their best not to look at his erection, which seemed to be growing.

Kerrys ran out to the new car and leaped into the driver’s seat. As she was struggling to get the key into the ignition, Manuel raced to the driver’s door and banged on the glass of the window angrily, but not too hard. This was his car.

‘Get out here!’ he shouted. ‘Get the fuck out here now!’

Kerrys jerked the door open towards him, and it smashed into the end of his erect prick. Manuel let out a howl of pain and dropped to his knees, clutching himself. Kerrys pulled the door back towards her, then slammed it open again, harder this time, the metal connecting with Manuel’s head.

Manuel crumpled to the ground, groaning, one hand holding his erect dick, the other on his injured head. Kerrys pressed the button to open the boot, and then got out and stood looking down at her semi-conscious brother. She had to deal with him before he came round and got really vicious. Kerrys reached down and her hand closed over his erect dick, using it to haul him up. Manuel howled in pain, but her grip on his dick stopped him trying to struggle.

Yuck! thought Kerrys. This is the one of the grossest things I ever touched!

She led him to the open boot of the car and pushed him, and he fell in. Kerrys flipped his legs and arms to make sure they were in, then slammed the lid shut on him.

‘Let me out of here, bitch!’ screamed Manuel, and he began banging on the inside of the boot.

‘It’s just till you calm down!’ Kerrys shouted back at him.

The banging from the boot continued, angrier and more insistent now. Kerrys looked towards the house. Jas and Mr Jauo-Pinto had come out and were watching her, stunned. Kerrys waved at them.

‘I did say next week, Dad!’ she called to him. She hurried to the driver’s door. Just before she got in she called out to Jas: ‘I love you, Jas! But I gotta see Jo!’

Jas grinned.

‘Love you too!’ she called back.

Then Kerrys was behind the steering wheel, the car starting up and pulling away. Next stop: Jo.

Shit, thought Kerrys as she drove, this has been some day. The big issue now was what to do with Manuel. She couldn’t just leave him in the boot of the car; he might suffocate. But if she opened the boot to let him out, he’d be grabbing her for sure, and killing her. She grinned to herself. The Kamagra had been a good idea at the time, but it was short thinking. Still, the expression on his face, and her grandmother’s! Fuck, that had been worth it.

Ted’s 24-Hour Mart was coming up any time soon. She wondered when would be the best time to let Manuel out of the boot. After she’d seen Jo, definitely.

The kicking and knocking sounds from the back of the car continued as Manuel tried to batter his way out. Kerrys grinned to herself. You locked me in a panic room. Now see how you like it, fucker!

Suddenly the banging and knocking changed, and there was a tearing sound, and then Manuel’s voice shouting, ‘I’m gonna kill you!’

A bolt of fear shot through Kerrys. He was out! Manuel was out! She grabbed a quick glance over towards the back of the car. Manuel had kicked his way through the back seat and was pulling himself through the gap, one arm reaching for her along the floor. The next moment his hand had grabbed her leg.

Fuck! Momentarily thrown, Kerrys’s foot slammed down on the accelerator, while at the same time she tried to keep the steering wheel under control. But Manuel grabbing her like that had thrown her. She had a glimpse of the big main window of Ted’s 24-Hour Mart looming up in front of her, and the next second the car smashed through it at speed, scattering packets and tins as she ploughed through the displays, glass flying everywhere.

Dazed, Kerrys pushed the door open and fell out on to the floor. She was aware that Manuel was no longer holding on to her leg. He was now struggling to get himself free from the wreck of the car.

Kerrys tried to focus, and found herself staring at a gun lying beside her on the floor.

Kerrys grabbed the gun and struggled to stand up. She was aware of Jo standing near her, looking at her open-mouthed in astonishment.

‘Kerrys! What the fuck . . . ?’ began Jo. Then she pulled her car keys out and threw them to Kerrys. ‘Go hide in my car.’

Kerrys didn’t hang around to ask questions. She ran out of the store, pushing the gun into the waistband of her shorts. She didn’t know what was going on for Jo and the mart, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. A gun in the store. Jo telling her to hide. There was Big Trouble here, as if she didn’t have enough of her own.

She ran to where she knew Jo usually parked her car. There it was. She unlocked it, jumped in and squashed herself down in the passenger seat, doing her best to get out of sight. ‘Hide,’ Jo had told her. There had to be a reason for that — Jo wasn’t the sort to over-dramatise things.

There was the sound of running feet coming towards the car. Kerrys allowed herself a careful peek. It was Jo.

Jo opened the driver’s door and jumped in, starting the car up, and asking: ‘OK, Kez, what the fuck is going on?’

‘I was gonna ask you the same,’ said Kerrys. She sighed. ‘But for me, not much. I’ve been locked in a panic room, stole my brother’s car and probably alienated my whole family, crashed into your work, and found this gun. Oh, and Shannon’s missing.’ She turned to Jo and gave her a grin. ‘But enough about me. How’s things been with you?’

JOANNE

39

Friday

As she headed home from the Cappuccino Cafe, Jo thought about Cass, on her way to New York and the man she obviously believed was the Love of Her Life. Big Mistake, thought Jo. But maybe she was just being jealous. Not so much of Cass’s Big Romance, waiting for her, but the thought of going Stateside. The place where she was born, the US of A.

Six years ago, when Jo was twelve, they’d come to London with her dad’s work. ‘We’ll go back for vacations,’ her dad had promised. But that first year there hadn’t been the time or the money for them to fly back to the States — her dad had been busy with work, and her mom had been busy trying to start up her own interior-design business in England. It was the same story the second year: her dad hard at work, vacations taken in the UK (‘We’re discovering our new home!’), and money was still tight.

And then her dad had been killed, and her whole world turned upside down in that one second.

Jo still remembered the day it happened. Getting home from school and finding her mom in a state of shock, white-faced and trembling, tears pouring down her face.

‘What’s happened?’ Jo had asked.

‘Your dad got hit by a bus,’ said her mom. ‘One of those big red ones.’

And Jo had laughed.

It had been totally the wrong thing to do. Completely inappropriate, but Jo didn’t know what else to do. Jo didn’t cry. She didn’t go to pieces. She got on with things. Kerrys had once called her ‘the glue that held them together’. Calm, dependable Jo. You want something, ask Jo.

Jo didn’t mean to laugh; she didn’t find it funny. She just didn’t know how to react. So she’d laughed. It was her way of crying, but without people knowing. Her mom should have known that. But her mom didn’t. Or maybe she’d forgotten. Or maybe she’d never really known Jo deep down at all.

For the next week her mom hadn’t spoken to her. She’d stayed in her room and cried. In a way Jo had been glad; it meant she was able to grieve in her own way, alone, in peace.

The funeral had been awful. First, there was going to see her dad in the casket at the funeral home. That hadn’t been him. It had looked like him, but it wasn’t him. It was just a body, a shell. Her dad was gone. She felt a hole in her life where he had been. No more would he read her a story at bedtime, or just sit and chat with her. Tell about his day at the marketing company, and how they’d go back to the States for a vacation next year. They’d agreed the perfect place would be Florida. Guaranteed sunshine. Her dad had been there on business trips when they lived in the States and had brought her back a mug with a picture of the Everglades on it. That was where they’d go.

But they didn’t.

For a while Jo wondered if her mom would want them to return to the States. If she did, Jo had already decided she didn’t want to go. By then she’d bonded with Kerrys, Shannon and Cassandra. They were the four musketeers, the most unlikely friends, but tighter than tight. True friends.

But instead her mom had met someone else and married him. Paul Edwards-Jones. A nice guy. Quiet and thoughtful, like her dad had been. And about the same age. The only drawback was he had a daughter, Gwen, who was a mouthy airhead. Selfish and brain-dead. Having to share things with Gwen made their house too small for Jo’s liking. But things could have been worse. Gwen was stupid and vain, but she wasn’t nasty. Well, not too nasty. She had a nasty tongue in her mouth, but she wasn’t clever enough to be deliberately hurtful. And Jo’s stepfather was an OK guy. Good and kind. And he’d married her mom and made her ‘Mrs Jones’, so Jo’s mom was happy, which all made for a reasonably quiet life.

Jo arrived home, walked into the kitchen and then stopped dead. Her stepfather sat in a chair looking miserable, one leg stuck out before him in a plaster cast. Gwen was doing something stupid like writing her name on it, and Jo’s mom was making tea.

Jo looked at her stepfather’s miserable expression, and at her mom and Gwen.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked.

‘What’s it look like?’ said Gwen. ‘Dad’s done his leg in.’

‘How?’

Mr Jones opened his mouth to explain, but Jo’s mom beat him to it. She always beats him to it, thought Jo. Either her or Gwen. He never has a chance to get a word in.

‘He slipped at the construction site,’ said her mom. She sighed. ‘It’s a good thing we have private.’

‘He should call that claim thing you see on the telly,’ said Gwen. ‘There could be good money in it.’

Mrs Jones shook her head. ‘He was climbing,’ she said.

‘Well, that’s even better!’ said Gwen. ‘It’s definitely not his fault! We can sue the idiots who let him do it.’

Mrs Jones gave a sigh.

‘There was a big sign saying “No climbing”, she said.

This took Gwen back a bit, but only for a second.

‘They don’t have to know that,’ she said determinedly.

It was Jo who asked the question hanging over all of them. ‘Will he still get paid?’

Mr Jones opened his mouth to answer, but again his wife beat him to it.

‘Three weeks’ full pay, then it goes down,’ she said unhappily. ‘His ligaments are done. He’ll probably be out for at least three months.’

‘Three months!’ echoed Jo and Gwen in horror.

‘Which is what I wanna talk to you girls about,’ con-tinued Mrs Jones swiftly. ‘With me between contracts, one of you girls is gonna have to work nights at the mart.’

Oh no, thought Jo. It was bad enough working at the 24-Hour Mart during the day, but nights, the graveyard shift when all the loonies came in . . . Yuck!

‘I’ve already called the manager and let him know one of you is coming.’ As the two girls opened their mouths to protest, Mrs Jones held up her hand to silence them and continued without a break: ‘I know you don’t like it, but it’s treble time, and we’re gonna need the money.’

Gwen pouted and scowled.

‘Well, I’m not doing it,’ she told everyone firmly and defiantly. ‘I’m going out. Jo can do it. She hasn’t worked for ages.’

Mrs Jones glared at her stepdaughter.

‘Gwen, I’m surprised at you. Is this how much you love your dad?’ She then turned on Jo, the same accusing tone in her voice. ‘And Jo, I’m disappointed in you. When our two families joined in matrimony . . .’

Oh God, here we go, groaned Jo inwardly.

‘. . . we became one family. And I am hurt that . . .’

‘Fine. I’ll do it,’ said Jo, desperate for the sermon to end. Always the same. ‘When our two families joined together . . .’ We didn’t join together, she wanted to shout out. You married him. As a result I got stuck with a step-sister who gives a new definition to the word ‘selfish’. She is a pain and I hate people thinking we are the same family.

‘Good,’ said her mom. ‘The shift is five till one —’

‘Five?!’ said Jo. She looked at the clock. ‘It’s gone four!’

‘Exactly. So you’ll need to get ready . . .’

Jo didn’t wait to hear any more. She ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. She had to shower, change, get made up . . . She was never going to do it in time! Why didn’t people think of her when they did these things? If her mom had told her as soon as she’d come in . . . But then, Jo sighed, her mom had told her as soon as she could. They’d had to talk about the accident first, that was natural.

She showered and then rushed around her room, laying out her uniform. God, who’d designed this? It was so crass and yuck! It made her look like someone who worked in a burger bar. Luckily she avoided the smell of burnt fat.

Suddenly she heard a yell from Gwen from downstairs: ‘Jo! Your weird mate’s here!’

There was the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs, and the next second Shannon burst into her room.

‘Sorry, Shaz, I’m in a real rush!’ Jo said apologetically. She began to pull on her Ted’s Mart uniform. ‘This is a real bitch! I haven’t been at the mart for ages, and now I’ve got to do the night shift!’

As she started doing up the buttons of the uniform, she was aware that Shannon hadn’t said anything yet. She looked at her friend, who was standing looking like she was about to burst into tears. Oh God, no, thought Jo. Something bad’s happened.

‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No,’ said Shannon miserably, shaking her head.

Jo gave her friend an apologetic smile.

‘I’m sorry, Shaz, this isn’t a good time.’

‘My mum . . .’ began Shannon awkwardly.

Of all the times for this to happen, groaned Jo inwardly. Suddenly she realised her hairbands weren’t where they normally were. Gwen! She rushed to the door and shouted angrily downstairs, ‘Gwen, you bitch! Did you take my hairbands?’

Gwen’s voice shouted back, ‘No, you bitch! I didn’t!’

Jo didn’t have time to start looking for them anyway. She had to go. She turned and gave Shannon a disgusted sigh.

‘Fuck! I guess I’m gonna have to do without them.’

‘My mum . . .’ began Shannon again.

I don’t have time for this, thought Jo. I have to get to work. But this was Shaz, her friend, looking miserable. But then Shannon spent a lot of her life looking miserable. Sometimes Jo thought it was an act. And right now she didn’t have time for an act. But, then again, this was Shannon. And she did look really unhappy.

‘Walk and talk,’ said Jo.

She snatched up her coat and hurried out of the room and down the stairs, Shannon following, trudging behind her as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. For God’s sake, Shaz, Jo thought, move faster. I have to be somewhere!

Jo rushed out of the house to her car, opened it and jumped in. Providing traffic was OK, she’d make it.

Shannon emerged from the house and walked over to the car, and looked at Jo. She was going to cry, Jo was sure. She looked like she’d been crying already. Fuck, what a time to choose! thought Jo.

‘I’m sorry but I really have to go, Shaz,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’

‘I just wanted to talk!’ said Shannon.

‘OK,’ nodded Jo. ‘Can we talk tomorrow?’

Shannon hesitated, then she nodded.

‘Go, girl.’ Jo grinned.

She started the car up, slammed the door and raced away.

40

Ted’s 24-Hour Mart was empty of customers as Jo walked in. There was Ron the useless so-called security guard hanging about by the door, and Angelo at the till. Angelo’s face lit up with delighted surprise as Jo walked in.

‘Jo!’ he said. ‘What you doing here at this time?’

Jo sighed.

‘Stepdad minus sense, plus acting his shoe size not his age, equals torn knee ligaments and me working the entire summer filling shelves.’ She gave a rueful grin. ‘Well, half-time with Gwen, so I guess that’s something.’ She looked around the store. ‘Who’s working tonight?’

‘Me, you, Cedric, Ron and Tee.’

Jo frowned. Tee?

‘Who’s Tee?’ she asked.

Before Angelo could answer, the manager, Barry, appeared from the back room. He looked as disorganised as ever. But then, that was Barry. His work, like his life outside it, seemed to muddle along, just about getting by. And everyone else was to blame.

‘About time you got here,’ he said to Jo.

No ‘Hi, thanks for coming in at short notice’, thought Jo. Barry turned to Angelo. ‘Angelo, go down and get some more stock of Jack Daniels. We’re low. And the snacks aisle is looking skinny.’

Angelo nodded and headed for the stockroom. Barry turned back to Jo, a frown on his face.

‘I thought Gwen was coming?’

‘She couldn’t, so I’m here,’ said Jo.

Barry nodded, as if taking this in, though Jo knew he’d have forgotten it almost immediately. Then he dropped the bombshell.

‘Well, here’s the update, Jo. Cedric’s not coming in for the 1 a.m. shift, so I need you to work all night.’

Jo stared at him. All night?!

Barry regarded her quizzically.

‘Problem?’ he asked.

Jo thought about it. All night. Treble time. More money.

‘No problem,’ she said.

‘Good.’ Barry nodded. ‘Right, I’m off.’ He grinned. ‘Kids are off camping, thank fuck. So I get a night with the wife. Tee’s in charge.’

‘Who’s Tee?’ Jo asked again.

Barry gestured at the young man who’d just walked in.

‘That’s Tee,’ he said.

Jo looked at her new boss. There was something familiar about him. She was sure she’d seen him before with Dillon and his crew. The thought of Dillon triggered her back to the business outside the Cappuccino. There’d been something going down, she was sure, the way Dillon and the others had been acting, and then the way they’d all run when the police sirens sounded.

She shrugged. It was nothing to do with her. She was just here to earn a living, treble time.

‘Yo!’

Jo looked round. Tee was beckoning to her, summoning her over. Jo went. Tee looked at her, checking her out. He has something, she thought to herself. He is sexy, hot.

‘What’s your name, sweetness?’ he asked.

Jo shot him a mocking ‘innocent’ look back.

‘Sweetness? Wow. That work much for you?’

If she annoyed him, he didn’t show it. Instead he smiled confidently and told her: ‘You’d be surprised.’

‘Well, my name’s not sweetness, it’s Jo,’ said Jo, with just enough firmness in her voice to let him know she wasn’t going to be jerked around or trodden on, no matter how sexy he was. But then she let slip a brief smile. After all, he was sexy.

Tee kept smiling.

‘I’ve never seen you on the late shift before,’ he said.

Jo shrugged.

‘I used to do Saturday, nine to four, but I haven’t worked in a while.’ She gave a heavy sigh. ‘But, you know, gotta feed those kids!’

She thought she saw Tee’s eyes register concern, but it was difficult to tell. He was playing it deadpan. She had to admit, there was something about him, something that made her think that maybe she and him . . .

Don’t get stupid, she told herself. But, just in case, no need for him to get the wrong idea about her.

‘I’m kidding,’ she told him. ‘I don’t have kids. I’m kid-free.’ She gave a little grin and gestured at herself. ‘Everything still nice and un-pushed out by a kid like . . .’ She stopped. Oh no, she groaned. What did she sound like? TMI! ‘I’m gonna stop talking,’ she finished lamely.

Tee continued looking at her.

‘You know your jobs today, right?’ he asked.

‘I’m here to work, so whatever.’

‘Good,’ said Tee. ‘Clean the staff toilets, then the customer toilets. Sweep and mop the floor. Do stock check, then stock shelves one to twelve. Start new displays for items that aren’t selling well in the places I’ve marked. Reprice the king-size Snickers. Then cash up register one and work on register two, which we’ll rotate until morning.’ Then, still smiling, he added, ‘Oh, and hang up my jacket.’

And with that he threw his jacket at her and walked off.

Shit! thought Jo. She considered going after Tee and smacking him round the head, or just throwing the jacket off and leaving it on the ground for it to get trampled on. But then, this was treble time.

She took the jacket and hung it up.

41

Time passed. Evening became night and then became the early hours of the morning. Jo stacked shelves and alternated on the cash register with Angelo for a bit before going back to stacking shelves and restocking. Not that there was much to restock after the first time. The place was hardly packed with customers. A few people drifted in and out, mostly after smokes or drinks and snacks. Someone came wanting a jar of strawberry jam. Who needs strawberry jam at two in the morning? thought Jo.

Ron, the useless security guard, stood by the door trying to look useful, until he gave up and stood further in the store, out of the cold night air. Angelo and Tee were supposed to be on the cash registers, though only Angelo was actually working, dealing with customers. Tee sat by cash register two, reading a magazine and eating Pringles.

Jo’s phone rang. She checked the number. Cass. Phoning to tell her about Mr Wonderful in New York, Jo guessed. She was lucky Jo was working and awake.

‘Hi, Cass,’ she said. ‘What’s happening?’

Cass’s voice sounded strange, distorted. At first Jo thought it must be the connection, then she looked more carefully at the image on the screen and saw that Cass was crying.

‘He never came!’ sobbed Cass. ‘Brett never came!’

‘Calm down!’ Jo told her. God, she thought. The bastard, standing her up like that! And then she thought, maybe Cass got the place wrong where they were meeting.

‘Have you called him?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ mumbled Cass unhappily.

‘You sure you got the right number?’

Cass’s voice came to her in anguish from the other side of the Atlantic.

‘Yeah. Oh, Jo, what should I do?’

Shit, thought Jo. Poor Cass. Dumped, heart-broken, alone, and far from home.

‘Where are you?’ she asked.

There was a pause, then Cass said, ‘Times Square.’

Times Square! thought Jo. I’m here in a dump like Ted’s and Cass is in Times Square, the hub of all the best ever in shopping, and she’s the one who’s crying.

‘You got money?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Cass.

It was a stupid question, thought Jo. Cass always had money.

‘And your credit card?’

‘Yes.’

‘In that case, fuck Brett. Go shopping. Then just book a flight back home.’

There was a pause, and then Cass said, ‘Yes,’ and Jo could already hear in her voice that her spirits had gone up at the thought of all that Manhattan shopping. The crying had stopped. ‘Yeah, OK. I’ll do that,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Jo.’

Jo hung up and smiled. Broken-heart counselling, free of charge.

A noise behind her made her jump. She turned. Tee was there, looking at her with unfriendly eyes.

‘Now, I don’t know what you used to do on those easy early-Saturday-morning shifts,’ he said, his voice flat and hard, ‘but when I’m here, bags, make-up and phones stay downstairs. And if I see any of said items, or anything else I deem inappropriate, you will be fired. Is that clear?’

Bastard! thought Jo. Creepy, bullying bastard. She felt the words ‘Fuck off’ form in her mouth, but then she thought of how hard it would be to get another job like this, with treble time whenever she wanted it, and she swallowed them.

‘Is that clear?’ repeated Tee, harder this time. Threatening.

‘Yes,’ said Jo.

Tee gestured for her to get back to work. As she turned back to the shelf, she was aware of a youth passing her and joining Tee. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw something pass between them hand to hand, covertly.

Something was going on. She could sense it. But it was nothing to do with her. This sort of thing went on all the time — skimming and scams, backhanders, under-the-counter deals. Stay out of it, she told herself. People who poke their noses in get in trouble.

The night dragged on. 3 a.m. Her eyes sagged and her body ached to lie down. What was it they said about this time of day? She’d read in some magazine it was the time when the body was at its lowest. It was the time of day when most people died. Yeah, of boredom.

By four o’clock she was nearly ready to give up. Only an hour to go and then she would have been working for twelve hours straight. Ron had given up walking about and was now sitting down, doing his best to look like he’d leap into action if there was any sign of trouble. Fat chance at four in the morning, thought Jo. She and Angelo were on the registers, and had been for what seemed like for ever. Tee sat by the cold drinks, in deep conversation on his mobile and munching on snacks. So much for the ‘no phones’ rule, thought Jo acidly.

‘Excuse me, Tee!’ she shouted suddenly. ‘It’s 4 a.m. You said we were gonna rotate on the registers, but me and Angelo have been here for ever.’

Tee lifted the mobile away from his mouth, turned towards Jo and shouted harshly: ‘Shut up!’ Then he turned back to his mobile and resumed his conversation. Jo scowled and turned to Angelo.

‘That guy is an asshole,’ she muttered. ‘Is he always like this?’

‘Ever since he’s been here,’ sighed Angelo.

Jo looked at Tee again, taking him in.

‘Still, he’s strangely sexy though,’ she murmured.

She realised she’d spoken out loud because Angelo shot her a look, and she gave a laugh and a shrug to show she hadn’t meant it. But they both knew she had.

It was then that Jo spotted the three key hooks by the CCTV tape recorder. One of the hooks was empty. The one that should have the key to the safe hanging from it. She frowned and turned to Angelo again.

‘Where’s the key to the safe?’ she asked.

Angelo looked like he was falling asleep standing up, his eyelids drooping. Poor guy. He’d been at work even longer than she had. He opened his eyes at Jo’s question and looked at the empty key hook.

‘Don’t know,’ he said. He thought it over. ‘It was there earlier.’

Jo looked towards where Tee was still talking on his mobile, his attention away from them, and whispered to Angelo, ‘Listen, hun, take a break. I’ll cover the registers.’

For a moment it looked as if Angelo was going to protest, but then Jo saw his eyelids drooping again. He gave her a grateful smile and slipped away towards the staff rest room. At that moment, Tee ended his phone call. For a second Jo thought he might grab hold of Angelo and order him back to the register, but another youth had come in and gone over to Tee, and Tee’s attention was now fully on him. Their heads together, there was lots of whispering and muttering and hand gestures. Something’s going down, thought Jo. But it’s none of my business.

‘Jo.’

The voice near her made her jerk round. It was her ex, Terry. Shit, thought Jo. This is the last thing I need. Her ex-boyfriend turning up, looking like shit: his face death-white and his eyes red-rimmed. He looked pathetic, standing there with that ‘please don’t kick me’ expression on his face. Maybe there was a way of getting this over with quickly. Without Terry making a scene, and humiliating her in front of Tee and Ron. Maybe she could get Ron to throw him out.

Terry stood there, looking at her, his expression mournful. Then he said, ‘I hear you been sleeping with Doug. Is it true?’

Jo’s heart sank. Doug! She’d never ever been with Doug! Where did Terry get these ideas? Someone was telling lies, or Terry was making things up so he could start a scene.

‘Is it?’ begged Terry. ‘We’ve only been split up one month . . .’

‘It’s not true,’ said Jo firmly.

Either Terry wasn’t listening to her, or he didn’t believe her.

‘Is his bigger than mine?’ he demanded.

Oh no, this is so gross! groaned Jo to herself.

‘Is it?’ he asked, more urgently this time. When she didn’t answer he asked, ‘Is he better than me in bed?’

I can’t be bothered with this, thought Jo. ‘Yeah,’ she lied. ‘He’s better. Why not?’

Terry stared at her, pain on his face as if she’d struck him. For a moment Jo thought he was going to start crying. Instead, he swallowed and then demanded aggressively, ‘But mine’s bigger, right?’

Jo didn’t get the chance to answer. Tee had appeared and he placed himself squarely between Terry and Jo, giving Terry the hard look.

‘Listen, this ain’t no confessional and it ain’t no hospital,’ he told him in harsh tones. ‘There ain’t no visiting hours here. Understand me? So buy something or fuck off.’

Then Tee turned to Jo. ‘And you, get back to work.’

Terry swallowed again, and then turned and walked out. Tee headed back to his corner by the soft drinks. And Jo saw that now the safe key was back on the hook where it belonged.

There was definitely something going on.

42

The sound of her mobile ringing dragged Jo into wakefulness. She reached out a hand from beneath her duvet and connected.

‘Yo?’ she said blearily.

It was Kerrys.

‘I didn’t pass,’ Kerrys said miserably.

Didn’t pass? Didn’t pass what? thought Jo. And then she remembered. Today was the day Kerrys was taking her driving test again. Had taken it. And failed. Again.

‘I’m sorry, babe,’ she said, commiserating. ‘You’ll pass next time.’ She yawned. ‘Sorry about that. I’m so fucking tired!’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’ asked Kerrys.

‘See you tomorrow,’ agreed Jo.

She hung up and looked at the time. Just gone eleven. Shit, she’d had hardly any sleep at all. She pulled the duvet over her head and went back to sleep.

The next time she woke up it was two o’clock. She still felt like she hadn’t slept properly. She went down to the kitchen. Her mom, stepdad and Gwen were watching TV as they ate lunch. She looked at them, annoyed.

‘You’re eating lunch without me?’ she demanded.

‘You were sleeping,’ said Gwen, munching. Then she added, ‘Shhh,’ and pointed at the TV. A newsreader was talking about some diamond heist.

‘And how do you move millions of pounds’ worth of diamonds, especially with such heavy media coverage surrounding this robbery?’

Fucking diamonds. Who cares? thought Jo. I don’t. I’m never likely to be holding a diamond in my hand.

‘While you’re up, can you put the kettle on, hun?’ asked Gwen.

Mrs Jones perked up at this.

‘Oh yeah, if you’re making a coffee, I’ll have one too,’ she said.

Mr Jones also turned to her, his mouth opening, but Jo beat him to it.

‘Yeah, I’ll make you one too.’

She filled the kettle and switched it on.

‘What time did you get in, hun?’ asked her mom.

Jo yawned.

‘Finished at six, got in about twenty past.’

‘A long night.’ Her mom nodded.

‘Too right,’ agreed Jo.

‘How you feeling?’ asked Gwen, her tone surprisingly solicitous and caring. Jo looked at her, surprised. ‘How d’you think I feel? Whacked! Dead!’ Then she felt guilty. Gwen had asked after her, there was no need to be bitchy back. She shrugged. ‘No, I’m all right.’

‘Good,’ smiled Gwen. ‘Cos you know that guy I was with last night? He wants to take me out again.’

Jo looked at her, frowning.

‘So?’ she asked. What was it to do with her who Gwen went out with?

‘Well . . . can you work again tonight?’

Jo stared at her sister, shocked. This was taking the piss, Big Time!

‘Gwen! Come on!’ she said.

‘Oh please, please, please, please!’ begged Gwen. ‘I really like him, Jo. I really really really like him!’

Fuck, thought Jo. I must be fucking simple.

‘Yeah, OK,’ she said.

Jo parked her car and headed for the mart. I’m trapped in Groundhog Day, she thought. I’m never ever going to get out of this place. I’m going to be on nights here for ever.

As she walked towards the store she saw Tee pacing up and down outside it, talking on his mobile. There was an edge to his voice — something was bugging him.

‘Go get them now,’ he said. ‘All them lot with you? It’s gotta be today. She’s coming in and leaving tomorrow, and I got things to do.’

He hung up and saw Jo standing looking at him, and glared back at her.

‘You lost something?’ he demanded.

Then he turned and walked into the store. The sight of him on his mobile reminded Jo that she hadn’t yet spoken to Shannon. She’d promised to talk to her that day, but working at the store had driven it out of her mind. Shit, Shaz would be pissed. Shannon took things very seriously. She could get hang-ups over the smallest thing.

Jo took out her mobile and dialled Shannon’s number. For once Shannon sounded upbeat.

‘Hey, Shaz,’ said Jo. ‘Sorry I rushed off like that yesterday. Work. What’s up?’

‘Listen, Jo, did you see a note yesterday? In the Cappuccino?’

‘A note about what?’ asked Jo. Then she saw Barry, the manager, heading towards her, a grim look on his face and his finger pointing at her accusingly. ‘Listen, I gotta go,’ she told Shannon. ‘Come to my work later. We’ll talk there.’

Jo ended the call and put her phone away.

‘See, I’m putting my phone away,’ she told him pointedly.

Barry hesitated, then nodded, and walked on to chase someone else up.

This is a shit place to work, thought Jo. A shit place with shit people. Then she saw Angelo, sweet-natured Angelo, engrossed in checking the cash register. Except for him, she told herself.

43

Jo finished mopping the floor, put the mop back in the bucket and wheeled it to the back room. The mart was as dead as a graveyard with the one customer being served by Angelo. Ron the security guard stood by the door, doing his best to look impressive, and failing. Barry and Tee were over at one side, talking about new ideas for displays. As if that would make a difference, thought Jo. There were never going to be thousands of people using their mart as their ‘store of choice’, eager to be impressed by the latest displays. This was a place for the lost and the lonely. Shift workers. People who’d forgotten to buy vital necessities, like bread and ciggies and drink.

She returned from the back room and joined Angelo at the cash register. Something in her made her check the key to the safe. It was in its place.

Angelo gave her a smile.

‘You working all night again?’ he asked.

Jo groaned. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it’s illegal.’

Angelo’s smile broadened. ‘I like you,’ he said. And then he suddenly went red. ‘I mean . . . I mean . . . I like working with you. Last night. Working together. Like we did.’

Jo looked at him and gave him a genuine smile. He was so sweet and innocent, blushing like that.

‘I liked working with you too,’ said Jo. ‘The truth is, it was just about the only part of it I did enjoy.’

Angelo looked towards Tee, who was still talking to Barry.

‘What about sexy Tee?’ he asked.

Jo shook her head. ‘Yeah, he’s sexy, arrogant, brooding, but he’s a dick. And he’s trouble. Right now I don’t want or need anyone like that in my life.’ She gave him another smile. ‘But you, now, you’re sweet. And that’s important.’

Angelo’s face flushed red again. He looked like he was about to continue the conversation, expand on it, maybe — thought Jo — even suggest a date. But before he could, they were aware of Barry standing by them, scowling. He obviously didn’t like to see his employees looking happy, certainly not when they weren’t doing anything that related to work. Barry gestured at the shelves, some of which had a few empty spaces on them.

‘Angelo, why do I see empty shelves in my store?’ he demanded. ‘Didn’t I tell you yesterday to fill ’em? I’m sure I did.’

Angelo nodded and headed for the storeroom. Barry gave Jo a cold look and followed Angelo, continuing his lecture. Pompous prick! thought Jo. Suddenly she felt a rush down below, and the trickle of liquid. Shit! She should have checked the calendar. Fucking period. She was sure it was early — they said that working nights threw your body clock out. Well, this was throwing her fucking calendar out. She left the register and walked down the aisle to the hygiene products and grabbed a box of tampons.

‘Hey!’ snapped a voice. Jo turned. Tee was bearing down on her. ‘What’s with leaving the register?’

Jo held out the box of tampons.

‘I’m sorry, I need to deal with this,’ she told him. ‘I’ll be back in two minutes.’

Tee shook his head.

‘You never leave a register unattended,’ he told her. ‘And I can’t let you go to the back with those until you’ve paid for them.’

Jo stared at him, incredulous.

‘Oh come on! How can I pay if you won’t allow bags up here?’

Tee glared back at her impassively.

‘Leave them, go get your money, come back, pay for them, and then you can go and do whatever you have to.’

Jo wanted to tell him to fuck off, but what was the point? He’d sack her, and that would be her best job gone. With her stepdad out of action, her family needed the money she was earning here. She sighed and dumped the box back on the shelf, and then headed for the stairs to the staff restroom.

‘Hey, where you goin’?’ demanded Tee.

‘Like you said: to get some money so I can pay for them.’

Tee shook his head.

‘Not so fast. You stay on that register until someone gets back.’

Jo glared at him. His expression still seemed impassive, but there was a look of secret pleasure in his eyes. He loved playing this sadistic game, and a girl like her was his perfect target. Well, he might control her because he was her boss, but he wasn’t going to grind her down, and she’d let him know that.

‘Fine.’ She shrugged. ‘Great. I’ll just bleed on the floor, shall I?’

Tee shrugged.

‘Don’t care,’ he said, and he gave a nasty smile. ‘But I’m watching you.’

‘Oh, are you?’ said Jo. All Tee’s pettinesses and little nastinesses popped in front of her. Well, she was gonna wipe that smug smirk off his face. ‘Just so you know, I’m watching you too. What did you do with that safe key yesterday?’

She’d struck home. She could see it in his eyes — a mixture of fear and panic, and anger. Real vicious anger. He grabbed her and pushed her back against the shelves, his hand holding her by the throat. ‘If you say even one fucking word . . .’ he began.

Then the sound of footsteps came to them. Tee released Jo and stepped back, just as Angelo appeared.

‘All done,’ announced Angelo cheerfully. ‘I’m back on the till.’

Jo gave him a grateful smile and headed for the staff restroom to collect her money. As she stormed past Tee, he watched her go, a mixture of fear and hate in his eyes.

44

The night dragged on. Tee left Jo alone, although she was aware that every now and then he cast a vengeful glare at her, as if he was waiting for her to do or say something and was ready to cut in and tear her apart.

As the clock ticked away, the store became its usual empty self, with just a straggle of customers. Jo stood at the till, waiting. Angelo was on the other till. Everything was normal. Nothing was happening. But then Jo noticed a shift in the mood of the place, and in Tee. A handful of youths had ambled in, most of them wearing hoodies. Jo recognised them from the previous night — one of them was the one who’d been exchanging something with Tee. Automatically she looked towards the safe key on its hook. It was still there, in its place.

She looked towards the safe, and realised that the displays had been put up in such a way that the safe was out of view. Then she looked at the CCTV monitors. Same thing: the safe had been hidden by displays of packs and boxes and cans.

She looked at the others. Everyone else was acting normally: Angelo was on the till, watching a couple in their thirties as they selected some sweets. A woman customer was examining the cigarettes, as if she was weighing up whether to buy a different brand. Unusual, thought Jo. Most people just go in and buy the same brand. What’s there to think about? And the woman didn’t look like the usual customers they got. This woman looked like money and class. It was in the clothes she wore, and the way she stood. A woman comfortable and confident in herself.

Ron was over by the door, picking his nose and trying not to let anyone see what he was doing.

Tee was at the other end of the store, just hanging around and trying to look casual. That was so unlike his usual tense, aggressive manner that Jo knew it was a lie. Something was going down, or about to go down.

The door opened and another youth came in. She recognised him from before. Dillon. The one Shannon fancied. She expected him to go to Tee, but the two ignored each other, as if they were complete strangers. That alone set alarm bells ringing. She knew they knew each other. That whole crowd knew each other: Tee, Kerrys’s brother Manuel, Dillon, and the other one who was here. What was his name? Smoothy, that was it. Jo had heard someone call him that.

She looked around. Smoothy was nowhere to be seen. But she knew he hadn’t left the store, because she’d been keeping an eye on the door. Where was he?

She watched Dillon stroll casually to the side of the store, to where the safe was. But the displays had been built up in such a way that the safe was out of sight. Dillon disappeared, his head ducking down behind the display.

The safe. It had to be the safe, thought Jo. Tee must have passed the safe key to them the previous day, and they’d copied it and then slipped it back to him. They were robbing the safe!

She wondered what to do. No one but her seemed aware of what was going down, except for Tee, still trying to appear casual and not involved. What could she do? Nothing, not against Dillon and Smoothy and Tee. And why should she? OK, so they could be robbing the safe. So what? Ted’s 24-Hour Mart didn’t pay her to act as security; that was Ron’s job. Why should she put herself in the way and risk getting seriously hurt? Would the company give her a reward? Would they fuck! No. They’d just claim it on their insurance. OK, she might get a few column centimetres in the local paper: ‘Shopgirl heroine fights robbers’, but then what? Sacked for giving them bad publicity. If the paper said this place had been robbed, the customers would stay away, scared in case it happened again.

Suddenly she saw Dillon and Smoothy appear from behind the display, and now she saw they were both holding guns. Fuck!

‘All of you!’ yelled Dillon. ‘Hands up and get over by the tills!’

Angelo, Ron and the two customers in their thirties stared at Dillon, their mouths open. They all looked stunned. Bewildered. Jo shot a look at Tee. He was already putting his hands up, and he looked shocked as well, as if this wasn’t part of the plan. Whatever the plan was. The well-dressed woman stood where she was, a look of amusement on her face, and slowly she raised her hands, but just to shoulder height. She looked as if this was some kind of joke. She didn’t look like she was afraid.

Dillon rushed towards Angelo and the two customers, brandishing the gun at them and at Jo.

‘Put your hands up!’ he screamed at them. ‘On your heads!’

Jo, Angelo and the two customers obediently put their hands on their heads. Smoothy pointed his gun at Ron.

‘You!’ he yelled.

Ron came back to life from his shock. He was the security guard, he should be doing something, but as he stood there, dithering, one of the other youths came up behind him and punched him hard, and Ron crumpled to the floor. Another youth came over and the pair of them dragged Ron to his feet. Immediately, Ron put his hands on his head.

‘OK!’ yelled Dillon. ‘If you all keep your mouth shut, you won’t get hurt!’ He turned to Angelo and Jo. ‘You, I want all the money in them tills.’

Angelo opened his till and began to take out the money. Jo reached out as if to open her till but instead managed to let her fingers hit a button operating one of the CCTV cameras so it could record what was happening. Dillon, suspicious and on edge, jerked the gun at her.

‘What you doin’?’ he demanded. ‘Open that fucking till!’

Jo opened the till and took out the cash drawer.

‘No more games!’ snarled Dillon. ‘Tee, take your shit!’

With that he pulled a package from his pocket and threw it towards Tee, who caught it. Everyone in the place turned to look at Tee, stunned. Tee stared at the package in his hands, then shouted angrily at Dillon, ‘You idiots! You were supposed to act like you don’t know me! You drop the stuff off, grab the money from the safe and leave! You don’t rob the whole place and you don’t implicate me!’

‘Yeah, if the money you said would be in the safe was there. But it wasn’t! There’s fuck all cash in there! Nothing!’

Angry, Dillon stormed over to Jo. He grabbed her by her hair and pushed the gun into her face. Jo felt the pain of her hair roots being pulled and gasped.

‘Are you gonna keep your mouth shut about what happened, babe,’ Dillon rasped into Jo’s ear menacingly, ‘or do I have to hurt you?’ He turned to the others, waving the gun at them, and demanded, ‘Are all of you gonna keep your mouth shut?’

‘Don’t hurt her!’ begged Angelo, anguish on his face.

‘Shut your mouth!’ Dillon snapped at him.

‘I won’t say anything, I promise,’ said Jo.

Dillon turned to the others, aggressive, angry.

‘The rest of you?’

The two customers nodded. Jo noticed that the classy-looking woman just stood, impassive, as if she didn’t care about what was happening. What’s up with her? thought Jo. Dillon noticed it too. He pointed the gun at the woman.

‘And you?’ he demanded.

The woman hesitated.

‘Don’t get brave in here!’ Dillon barked at her.

He’s afraid, thought Jo. He’s on the edge. The woman nodded.

Suddenly a gasp from the door made them all turn. A man had walked in from outside. For a second everything was frozen in time: the man at the door, Dillon and Smoothy with their guns, the people with their hands on their heads, the other boys. Then the man yelled, ‘I’ll get the police!’ and ran back out into the street and disappeared into the night.

‘Fuck!’ yelled Dillon, anguished. ‘There’s a police station just down the road.’

‘Lock that door!’ Smoothy shouted, and the boy nearest the door ran to it and pulled it shut. As he did so, they saw the doors being pulled at, as someone from outside tugged at them.

The boy held on to the doors, keeping them shut tight. ‘I don’t know where the lock is!’ he called desperately to Dillon.

There was a banging from outside. Dillon and Smoothy hesitated, unsure what to do.

It’s too soon for the police to have got here, thought Jo. Please don’t let them panic and start shooting.

She looked at Dillon, who seemed torn by indecision. He glared at the door as once again there came a banging from outside, more insistent this time.

‘OK! Hands down!’ hissed Dillon. ‘But remember, we’ve got guns. No warnings, or else.’

Dillon and Smoothy stuffed their guns hastily away out of sight as the others took their hands off their heads. At a nod from Dillon, the boy holding the door opened it, and Shannon walked in.

45

Shit! thought Jo. I’ve got to get her out of here. It’s bad enough we’re in trouble, but Shannon could get seriously hurt, and she’s not even involved! She could make things really worse.

‘Hey, Jo!’ called Shannon, and headed towards the counter.

Smoothy glared at Jo, a warning look that said, ‘Get rid of her.’ Dillon had already turned his back on Shannon so she wouldn’t see him.

Jo gave Shannon a cold, hard look.

‘I can’t talk now, Shaz,’ she said curtly. ‘You need to go.’

Please, let her get the message, she prayed. Let her feel what’s going on here and realise I’m trying to save her life. Just go, Shaz. Please.

Instead Shannon stopped and stared at Jo, stunned.

‘But . . . you told me to come!’ she said.

‘Yeah, and now I’m telling you to go,’ said Jo curtly.

‘But . . .’ began Shannon, her mouth open in shock. She looked as if Jo had slapped her for no reason. Oh God, prayed Jo. Please, Shaz, just go! Get out of here. I’ll explain later.

‘Go!’ repeated Jo, forcing her voice to sound harsh and brutal. ‘Get out!’

She saw Shannon’s eyes well up with tears.

‘But I’m here to talk to you! Why are you behaving like this?’

Please, Shaz! she prayed. Go! But one look at Shannon’s face told her this way wasn’t working. The only way to get rid of her was to be really brutal. Humiliate her.

‘Shaz, will you just piss off!’ she snapped with forced anger.

It didn’t work. Shannon didn’t go. If she doesn’t go, she’s gonna be dead, groaned Jo.

Shannon looked at Jo, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘Why, Jo?’ she begged. ‘Why?’

It was Dillon who took charge. He suddenly turned round so he was facing Shannon and said with a cruel sneer, ‘Cos she’s here with her man and she don’t want you around.’

Shannon’s mouth dropped open. She looked as if she’d been struck in the face.

Before Jo knew what was happening, Dillon had grabbed her and pulled her towards him. She felt the hard metal of his gun pressing warningly into her side. Suddenly he kissed her. Yuck! thought Jo. But she knew what Dillon was doing — getting rid of her friend the only way he knew.

There was a gasp of horror from Shannon. Jo turned towards her, still aware of the gun pressed into her side. Shannon’s face was contorted in fury and pain. She dug into her pocket, pulled out some loose change and threw it at Jo and Dillon, the coins bouncing off the counter.

‘Thanks for nothing!’ Shannon burst out, not bothering to contain her anger. ‘I fucking hate you!’

With that she snatched a box of Pringles from the display with such force that the whole display collapsed, sending the other Pringles boxes scattering. Then she ran for the door and out.

For the first time, emotion leaped into the rich woman’s face. Shock and panic, thought Jo. The woman turned on Tee, her whole body no longer languid and laid back, but tense like a coiled spring.

‘Did she take them?’ she demanded.

‘I don’t know,’ said Tee, looking helpless.

Take what? thought Jo. What was going on? The woman glared at him, and if looks could kill then Tee would have fallen dead on the spot. ‘I think she did!’ she raged. ‘You said this would be simple. If she took them, you’re a dead man. Dead!’

With that she ran out of the store after Shannon.

‘OK!’ shouted Dillon, and his gun reappeared in his hand. ‘Hands back on heads!’ Smoothy pulled out his gun too. Dillon rushed over to the two remaining customers and thrust his gun at them. ‘Hand over your wallets!’ he ordered.

Fumbling, they produced their wallets and handed them to him. He flipped them to the IDs and scanned them, then stuffed them into his pocket.

‘Now I know who you are and where you live,’ he told them. He swung round and addressed all the others. ‘If any of you people say anything, you’re dead. And, Tee . . .’ Dillon tossed his gun towards Tee, who caught it automatically. Dillon grinned. ‘Now that’s got your prints on it, just in case you’re thinking about getting clever!’

Dillon ran to the door, followed by Smoothy and the others of his gang, and they vanished into the night. Jo felt a wave of relief, which vanished as she saw Tee, an expression of fury on his face as he looked at the gun in his hand. He straightened up and levelled it at them. It’s not over yet, thought Jo.

‘You heard what he said!’ snapped Tee. To the couple he shouted, ‘Get out of here! You never heard nothing. You never saw nothing. If anyone even looks at me wrong for the next month, I’ll find you!’

The couple took the opportunity, running for the door, desperate to get away from this madness. Tee then turned to Angelo. Angelo held up his hands.

‘I won’t say nothing, Tee. I swear,’ Angelo assured him, alarmed.

But Angelo’s words weren’t enough to stop Tee. The whole business of losing whatever it was that Shannon had taken, the warning from the classy woman, being betrayed by Dillon, had pushed him beyond anger. Tee began to hit Angelo with his free hand, punching him in the face and the body. Blood poured from Angelo’s mouth where Tee’s fists had split his lips.

Jo moved quickly to the CCTV recorder unit, pressed eject, and when the disc slid out, popped it down the front of her trousers. Then she turned on Tee, who was still working out his anger on Angelo. ‘Stop it!’ she yelled. ‘Leave him alone!’

She jumped on Tee’s back, clawing with her hands at his arms, trying to stop his punches, but Tee flipped her off. Police sirens could be clearly heard approaching. Tee hastily dropped the gun and kicked it under the ice-cream fridge. Then he turned and headed towards Ron, his fists bunched, anger writ large all over him. Ron backed away, but Tee attacked him, all his frustration and rage coming out as he punched Ron to the ground and then kicked him.

Jo’s mind was in a whirl. What was it they thought that Shannon had taken?

46

The police were asking questions, noting the answers down in their notebooks and nodding, as if the answers were useful. Jo, talking to a female police officer and doing her best to hear what the others were saying at the same time, knew that the information the police were being given was useless. Everyone had agreed their stories before the police arrived. No one had seen the robbers’ faces because they’d been wearing hoods.

‘They had guns?’ asked the woman PC.

Jo nodded.

‘Yeah,’ she said.

‘Do you know what sort?’

Jo shrugged.

‘A gun’s a gun.’

‘A handgun? A pistol? Shotguns?’

‘No, they had handguns.’

Nearby, another officer was talking to Angelo, who still had blood around his mouth from where Tee had attacked him. Tee was being interviewed as well. Jo could hear him telling the officer, ‘I was too scared to do anything. I kind of just cowered in the corner.’ Tee looked over at the injured Angelo and Ron. ‘I guess that’s why they left me alone.’

Barry had been brought in, and an officer was standing with him by the CCTV recorder. Barry had pressed the button that opened it, and seen that there was no disc.

‘I must have forgotten to put the new disc in,’ said Barry, looking flustered and guilty. The officer said nothing, just wrote something down in his book. Barry babbled on, eager to defend his own position. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said. ‘Having the safe on the shop floor may seem strange, but we assumed it would be the last place people would look for it.’ Then he gave a weak smile. ‘Anyway, it was lucky I’d cleared out the safe on Friday night, so there was nothing in it.’

The officer looked at him with a puzzled frown.

‘You cleared out the safe?’ he said.

‘Yes.’ Barry nodded.

‘Why?’ asked the officer. ‘Did you have some thoughts that someone might try and rob it?’

‘No,’ said Barry. ‘It was for the wife.’

The officer looked even more puzzled.

‘The wife?’ he asked.

Jo didn’t hear why Barry had taken it for his wife; she was suddenly aware that the female officer was talking to her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘What?’

‘Did they hurt you?’ the officer asked her.

Jo shook her head.

‘No,’ she said.

After it was all over, and Angelo and Ron had been taken to the hospital for a check-up, Barry announced that, in view of what had taken place, the store would be closed for a few hours in order that a stock check could be taken and the tills checked to try to work out how much had been stolen. The police told Barry to report to the station when he’d done his calculations, and began to pack up. Jo collected her bag and left the store with the police, giving Tee no chance to come and talk to her. Oddly, Tee didn’t look like he was going to bother her anyway. He seemed jittery, weighed down by something on his mind. Whatever Shannon had taken, Jo guessed.

Once she got to her car, Jo tried Shannon on her mobile. No answer. Instead it went straight to voicemail, inviting her to leave a message. She wanted to say, ‘That wasn’t me saying what I said to you, Shaz. That wasn’t real, that business with me and Dillon. I just had to get you out of there to save your skin.’ But she couldn’t say that without putting the finger on Dillon and Tee. And that would put Shannon at risk.

Shit, what a fuck-up! thought Jo.

47

Jo woke and looked at the clock on her bedside table. One o’clock. Sunday afternoon. God, she’d slept! After what had happened at the mart — the robbery, the guns, Shannon — her mind had been so full she thought she’d never get to sleep.

Shannon! She struggled up in bed, reached for her mobile and dialled Shannon’s number. Just the answerphone inviting her to leave a message, as before. She hung up and snuggled back down under the covers, but by now she was wide awake, her mind filled with images of last night.

She considered the security disc she’d taken from the CCTV, which was now on her dressing table. What should she do with it? Take it to the police? No. What would they do? And how much was even on there? Tee had done his best to make sure the displays hid what was going on.

What had been all that with that woman chasing after Shannon? And why had she told Tee he was a dead man?

None of it made sense, except for the robbery. Tee must have been planning it for a while. She remembered Dillon pulling her by the hair and pushing the barrel of the gun in her face, and his mouth sucking at hers as he kissed her, and she felt such anger rising in her that she knew if she didn’t do something she’d end up punching someone. Preferably Gwen. But that wouldn’t go down well with her mom.

She threw back the covers and got out of bed. She needed to kill someone.

Bam! Bam! Crunch!

‘You are about to die!’ shouted Jo. On the screen the villain fell back and then crumpled to the ground.

Jo’s bedroom door opened and Gwen peered in. Jo switched off the video game and stood, panting, sweat soaked through the front of her T-shirt.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Gwen anxiously.

‘Why?’ demanded Jo, thinking angrily, Why do people just walk in my room without knocking? I need to put a lock on my door.

‘I heard you shouting and I thought . . . you know . . . after the robbery last night . . .’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ said Jo.

Gwen came further into the room, the expression on her face still anxious.

‘You sure?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Jo curtly. For God’s sake, Gwen, leave me alone, she thought. I need my own space. The rest of the time you don’t give a fuck about me. Suddenly now you’re coming over all ‘caring sister’, and it’s creepy.

Gwen didn’t go. Instead she said, ‘Ted’s is still opening today, so I’ll work tonight if you don’t wanna go back there.’

Jo stared at Gwen, stunned.

‘They’re opening?’ she said. ‘After what happened?’

‘Yep.’ Gwen nodded. ‘For the late shift. They say the police are done, so it’s OK. Barry wanted to close, but he said his manager guy wanted to go in. So he asked if you or I would work tonight.’

Jo looked at her stepsister. So that’s what all this is for, she thought. It’s about who goes in to work tonight, me or her. Gwen wants to go out with her fucking boyfriend again and wants me to go to work for her. Jo was about to say that to Gwen, but as she looked at her she felt there was something else in Gwen’s face: real concern for her.

I’m getting soft, she thought. Gwen doesn’t care about me.

‘Anyway, I said I’d go in,’ said Gwen.

Jo looked at her, surprised. And then she thought, No, I can’t let Gwen go in. She doesn’t know what’s really going on. She could get hurt. Not that that should bother her, the way she felt about Gwen, but somehow it did.

‘Gwen,’ she said, her face serious, ‘you don’t wanna go in. Not with that guy Tee there.’

Gwen looked at her, puzzled.

‘What do you mean?’

Jo took a deep breath, then told her: ‘The manager. Tee. He’s involved. He organised the robbery.’

Gwen’s mouth fell open.

‘What?! How do you know?’

‘Because I was there, dummy!’ said Jo, irritated.

‘Bullshit!’ snapped back Gwen. Then, as she looked at Jo, her face became curious as she realised Jo was serious. ‘You got proof?’ she asked.

Jo gestured at her dressing table.

‘The security disc from the CCTV cameras in the store,’ she said.

Gwen gazed at the disc, goggle-eyed.

‘Wow! Did you . . . tell the police?’

Jo shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. He was watching us all.’ She looked at the disc and thought about it, about the store opening again. About Tee being there. ‘Maybe I should go back in,’ she muttered. ‘So he’s not suspicious.’

Gwen shook her head.

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘If he thinks you know . . .’

‘He knows I know,’ Jo told her.

‘Then I’m going in,’ said Gwen. ‘That way you’re safe. He won’t get suspicious of you if I go in and act normal.’

Jo looked at her stepsister doubtfully. This was a new side of Gwen she was seeing and it was unfamiliar. Concerned Gwen.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t want him to hurt you.’

‘Why would he hurt me?’ asked Gwen.

‘Because he may not believe everything’s OK.’ She shook her head. ‘Trust me, Gwen, I’ll be OK. I can look after myself.’

‘But the robbery . . .’ began Gwen.

Jo grinned.

‘It’ll be fine. No one is gonna hit the same place two days in a row.’

Gwen’s face hardened into a very determined expression.

‘I’m going in tonight,’ she told Jo firmly. ‘And that’s it.’

48

Jo sat at the kitchen table, a bowl of cereal in front of her, eating. Mr Jones sat asleep in the armchair, his leg in plaster propped up on a footstool. Jo’s mother sat at the table with her, a worried expression on her face.

‘You must have been so scared!’ she said, horrified.

‘Yeah, I guess I was.’ Jo nodded, spooning more cereal into her mouth and thinking, Please, Mom, no more questions. The last thing I need right now is questions, in case I say something wrong. Telling Gwen is one thing; telling you is another. You’ll call the police in, and then the shit will really hit the fan.

Shannon, she thought again. I have to talk to Shannon. She switched her mobile on, and when she did it beeped to let her know she had a message.

Jo called up voicemail, and heard Shannon’s voice: ‘Jo, it’s Shannon. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I think I got some stolen diamonds from your shop, so gimme a call. On my home phone. Please.’

Jo sat there, stunned.

‘Diamonds?’ she said aloud.

‘What?’ asked her mother, puzzled.

Jo shook her head and clicked ‘end’.

‘Nothing,’ she said.

OK, she thought. Shannon has been in touch with me, which is good. But she’s talking about having some stolen diamonds, which sounds bad. And she’s not got her mobile with her, which could be bad, or could be just because she’s run out of credit or charge. She looked at the bowl of cereal. I’ll finish this, then I’ll go call Shannon at home, she thought. Food first. Solving problem second.

As she was spooning another mouthful of cereal into her mouth Gwen walked in, wearing the Ted’s Mart uniform in all its garish glory, and the front doorbell rang. Mr Jones slept on, untroubled by all the activity.

‘I’ll go,’ said Mrs Jones.

Gwen caught her reflection in the mirror and stood looking at herself admiringly.

‘You know, this looks so much better on me than when you wear it,’ she said.

Cow! thought Jo. The trouble is she doesn’t even realise what she’s saying. She’s so self-centred she never thinks of other people’s feelings. No, she never thinks of my feelings.

Mrs Jones came back, looking flustered.

‘Gwen,’ she whispered, ‘it’s that boy again. Dave.’

Gwen’s face showed shock.

‘Oh no!’ she squealed. ‘He can’t see me in this outfit! I look gross!’

‘You just said it looked good on you,’ said Jo.

‘Yes, but not for him!’ She looked at her stepmum, desperation on her face. ‘What’s he want?’

‘He wants to take you out again.’

Gwen looked at Jo, horror-struck, a desperate appeal on her face.

‘Jo!’ she begged. ‘Did you hear that? He wants to take me out again, and he’s so . . . nice!’ Her face began to crumple. She looked as if she was about to have a panic attack, or burst into tears. ‘I know I said I’d work tonight . . .’ Gwen’s words were coming in a gabble, a desperate appeal in a torrent of pleading. ‘But please please please, just this one more time!’ Gwen’s face screwed up even more as she added, ‘I swear I’ll work all the shifts till Dad gets better, even weekends . . .’

‘Fine,’ sighed Jo.

‘I’ll even do . . .’ Gwen stopped. ‘What?’ she said.

‘I said I’ll do it,’ said Jo.

Gwen gave a little squeal of delight and jumped up and down on the spot like a little girl who’d been given a special party treat. Then she recovered herself. She flashed Jo a smile.

‘Cool,’ she beamed.

‘Go upstairs and get changed,’ Mrs Jones cut in. ‘I’ll go and keep him company.’

Mrs Jones and Gwen both hurried out of the room, leaving Jo with her bowl of cereal. Jo sighed wearily.

‘Love you too,’ she muttered.

Right, time to make some calls, she thought. The first was to Shannon’s home phone number, but all she got was the answerphone. She left a message asking Shannon to call her.

The next call was to Kerrys. This time she got a connection.

‘Kerrys, is Shannon with you?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Kerrys. ‘Why?’

Jo sighed. ‘I fucked up big time,’ she admitted. Should she tell Kerrys about Tee and Dillon? No, not just yet, because Dillon and Kerrys’s brother Manuel were tight and that would raise all sorts of problems. She heard Kerrys talking.

‘. . . when she reads the note her mum wrote her, she ain’t gonna be happy,’ Kerrys was saying.

Note? thought Jo, puzzled.

‘Note?’ she asked. ‘What note?’

‘Long story,’ said Kerrys, ‘but she’s gonna need us.’

It sounded like there were long stories all round, thought Jo. Wait till she told them about the robbery, and the diamonds. Providing she could survive tonight at the mart, that was. She’d assured Gwen that everything would be all right, but Tee was on the edge. The truth was, she didn’t know what was going to happen when she went to work.

‘OK,’ said Jo. ‘The thing is, if anything happens to me, it’s someone called Tee.’

Then she hung up before Kerrys could start asking questions.

49

Ted’s 24-Hour Mart was empty of customers as Jo walked in. Jo wasn’t surprised — the story about the armed robbery would have spread. No matter what people said about lightning never striking twice, once they heard that a particular place had been attacked by gangsters or terrorists, or a bomb had gone off somewhere, they tended to stay away from that place for a while, until things cooled down.

At first Jo thought that Ron, standing by the door, and Angelo were the only members of staff in the place, until she became aware of Tee, kneeling down by the display of Pringles, desperately popping the lids off the boxes and then casting them aside. He looked up fleetingly towards Jo, and then turned his attention back to opening the boxes as fast as he could.

Angelo smiled in greeting.

‘Hey, Jo,’ he said warmly. ‘How you doing? I was worried about you.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Jo. ‘You?’

‘Yeah.’ Angelo nodded. He touched his mouth and gave a wry smile. ‘Lip’s a bit bruised.’

Jo scanned the otherwise empty store, looking for the others.

‘Where’s Barry?’ she asked.

‘Not here,’ said Angelo. ‘Tee opened up.’

Angelo moved so that he and Jo were out of Tee’s hearing, then added in a whisper, ‘He told me to act normal.’ He sighed. ‘I had to come in because he knows where I live.’ He gestured towards where Ron was standing. ‘Same with Ron.’

Jo looked at the kneeling Tee as he got ever more desperate, tearing open the boxes of Pringles with abandon. She thought it even sounded like he was crying, but it could have been her imagination.

‘What’s he doing?’ she asked.

Angelo shook his head.

‘No idea,’ he said. ‘He’s been searching those since we opened up, and getting more and more upset. Whatever he’s looking for, he ain’t found it.’

‘That’s because my friend has them,’ said Jo.

Angelo looked at her, puzzled.

‘Has what?’ he asked.

‘The diamonds.’

Angelo stared at her, stunned.

‘Diamonds?’ he repeated in a shocked whisper.

Jo was about to tell him about the message she’d received from Shannon when the door opened and three people walked in very purposefully. One was the classy-looking woman who’d chased after Shannon the night before. With her were two men, both of whom looked like gangsters. Not those guys who walked around posing like pretend gangsters, shooting their mouths off and acting like they were tough. These guys were tough. Jo could see that from the way they moved and from the flat, unemotional expressions on their faces. They might not be waving guns right now, but she knew that they were the kind of guys who did. And not just for shock value. They weren’t petty thugs like Dillon and Smoothy. These guys would use guns without a second’s thought.

The woman and the two men marched over to where Tee was still tearing open boxes of Pringles. He looked up as their shadows fell over him, and fear filled his eyes. He tried to slide away from them along the floor, but the two men reached down, grabbed him by the arms and hauled him to his feet.

‘What did I tell you yesterday?’ demanded the woman.

She was the really dangerous one, Jo could tell. As the woman turned and headed for the door, the two men dragged Tee after her. Tee dug his heels into the floor. Struggling in their grip, he pleaded, ‘Please! Please, no! I’m sorry!’

They were going to kill him; Jo knew it. And even though he was a creep, she couldn’t let that happen. Before she was aware of what she was doing, she had dropped down beside the fridge and reached under it. Was the gun still there, or had the police found it? It was still there, under the fridge where Tee had kicked it. Her fingers curled round the handle and she got to her feet, pointing it at the woman and Tee and the two men, who were forcing Tee nearer the door.

‘OK!’ shouted Jo. ‘Back the fuck up!’

The woman and the two men turned at the sound, and saw her with the gun. Tee was still struggling, but he stopped when he became aware of Jo and the gun. A look of desperate hope came into his face.

The woman glared at Jo.

‘This is none of your business, girl,’ she told her, her voice like ice.

She isn’t afraid of me, thought Jo. Nor are the two men. They just don’t want any complications. Well — now they’ve got one.

‘Angelo, get their guns,’ said Jo, her voice firm and calm.

Angelo just stared at her, shocked. This was no good. If he didn’t move quickly they’d take their guns out and blast her.

‘Angelo!’ she repeated sharply, shouting, anything to make him move.

Angelo came out of his shock and went towards the woman and the two men. Jo could see he was so nervous he was almost shaking, but he did it. Good for Angelo, she thought. He’s got guts.

The woman and the two men stood impassively and let Angelo search their pockets. The two men kept a firm grip on Tee the whole time. Angelo took guns from the pockets of all three. None of them seemed at all bothered at being disarmed in this way. There’s something I don’t know, thought Jo. They’re too cool about this. They should have punched Angelo, or pulled out a gun and shot him, or me. But they haven’t. She felt a weird sense of satisfaction. It’s this gun I’m holding, she thought. They don’t know whether or not I’m going to pull the trigger. And they’re thinking it might go off by accident if they pull something, and one of them could get shot. So they’re going to stand there and take it. It’s the power of the gun.

Angelo walked to a bin and dropped the guns into it.

‘Shoot them!’ screamed Tee, desperation and panic in his voice. He struggled to break free of the men’s grip, but they held firm. ‘Shoot them!’ he begged Jo.

‘Shut up,’ Jo told him. ‘Angelo, slap him. Shut him up.’

Angelo hesitated briefly, then walked over to Tee and slapped him hard in the face. Then he walked away again, but with the hint of a smile around his bruised mouth. Tee’s face still showed his feelings of panic, but he shut up.

The woman turned to Jo and addressed her. She still isn’t scared of me, thought Jo. Even with this gun in my hand. She’s like ice.

‘Look, we just want to take this guy and get out of your hair,’ the woman said, very matter-of-fact and calm, as though taking people out and killing them was something she did every day, in a commonplace way, and was nothing to be concerned about.

‘I can’t let you do that,’ said Jo, still holding the gun firmly in her hand and moving it from the woman to the two men, then back to the woman again. She looked at Tee, who was almost in tears with fear. ‘I mean, he’s an asshole. And yeah, you’re right, this is not my business, and any other day I’d let you take him out and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. And you know why? Because, since my real dad died, that’s what Jo does.’

Her voice had changed now, hardened. She could tell from the surprised looks on their faces — on the woman’s, the two men’s, Tee’s, Angelo’s — that they were listening to her, really listening, that there was an edge to her voice, coupled with the fact that she was holding a gun, that forced them take in her words, take in her deep, deep feelings.

‘Hey, Jo, will you make a tea? Coffee?’ she said, her tone light and bantering, but with a bitterness to it that showed the deep hurt beneath. ‘Do a charity swim? Sure. Will you work for me? OK. My man didn’t turn up, so will you help me? OK. My dad’s angry, will you lie for me? Yes. Can I have your last cigarette? Sure. Can I put it there tonight? Go for it. Jo, Jo, Jo? Yes, yes, yes!’

Now Jo could feel all the months and years of frustration welling up within her, pouring out of her. She glared at them, and the gun in her hand felt absolutely right. Power. Power to say no, and she told them all: ‘Well, today for the first time I’m saying no. And, because of my unforeseen change in character, I’m not gonna let you leave. I’m not gonna let you take him, and — although he probably deserves it — I’m not gonna let him die for some shiny rocks that, quite frankly, I don’t think you deserve. Cos you know what I’d like?’

‘What?’ asked the woman coldly, but intrigued against her own judgement.

‘A fucking thank-you. For everything I do. From just one person. Or at least a “Welcome back to work. Here’s a pay rise.” Instead, I get you.’

The woman stood, still apparently calm, and now, Jo could see, unmoved by her long speech. She nodded and said, without any true feeling at all, ‘Well, thank you.’ Then her face hardened and she added harshly, ‘And thanks for airing all your angst. Now either shoot us, or get out of the fucking way.’

With that, she moved slowly towards Jo.

Fuck, thought Jo. I didn’t expect that. She wasn’t supposed to do that. I’m the one with the gun! Nervously she looked towards Angelo, all the time aware that the woman was moving closer to her, one small step at a time.

‘Any ideas?’ she asked.

It was Tee who answered.

‘Shoot them!’ he screamed.

‘Shut up!’ everyone yelled back at him.

The woman smiled.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ she said. She dipped into an inside pocket and pulled out a gun, which she pointed at Jo. Fuck! thought Jo. No wonder she was so cool. A second fucking gun!

‘You have ten seconds to drop your gun and let me leave,’ said the woman.

Jo stood, her gun still pointing, her mind in a whirl. What could she do? Shoot this woman? Shoot the men? If she dropped the gun, would these people just shoot them anyway as witnesses?

‘Five seconds,’ said the woman calmly. ‘Four, three, two . . .’

50

Jo was aware of sudden bright lights outside, hammering fast towards the window of the mart. They were the lights of a car, its engine revving out of control. The others became aware too, because the woman swung round just as the huge window was smashed in, shards of glass flying everywhere as the car erupted into the store.

Jo was already throwing herself for cover, the gun falling from her hand, hitting the floor and skidding away towards the car. Sirens sounded. The police were on their way, though whether they were chasing this car, or because someone had seen what was going on with Jo and the gun . . .

Jo crawled out and looked towards the car. The door had burst open. There, on the floor, and picking up the gun Jo had dropped, was Kerrys.

‘Kerrys! What the fuck?’ exclaimed Jo. We have to get out of here, she thought, before the police arrive and want some explanations. ‘Quick, go hide in my car!’ she shouted, chucking her keys to her.

Kerrys ran off. Jo looked around. The woman and the two men had disappeared at the sound of the police sirens. Tee had slumped to the ground and seemed almost catatonic, frozen to the spot. Jo snatched up a pen and a paper bag and scribbled: ‘Yesterday’s robbery. Ask for Tee.’ Then she pushed the security disc into the bag and put the bag on the roof of the crashed car. She was aware that Kerrys’s brother Manuel was caught inside the back of the car and struggling to get out.

Right, she thought. Time to go. As she ran for the door a hand grabbed her. It was Angelo.

‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.

‘I’m sorry, I gotta go,’ Jo told him.

‘But . . .’ he began.

He didn’t finish. Jo gave him a big smile, then grabbed him to her and planted a big kiss, sucking his lips into her mouth and letting her tongue caress them. If it hurt his bruises, he wasn’t complaining. She released him, gave him a big wink and then ran out of the mart just as two police officers entered through the huge hole in the smashed window.

The two police officers looked at the wreckage of the car, and at the whole mess, in amazement. One of them spotted the paper bag on the roof of the car, took it off and read the words on it.

‘Who’s Tee?’ he asked.

Hearing his name seemed to jump-start Tee into action. He leaped up and ran towards the hole in the window. Angelo stepped in his way and stuck his arm out straight like a piston rod. Tee ran into Angelo’s fist and went down like a sack of potatoes.

Angelo jerked his thumb at the fallen Tee.

‘He is,’ he said.

Jo and Kerrys sat in Jo’s car. Both girls were shaking, Kerrys from having crashed the car through the window, Jo from the experience of looking down the barrel of a gun held by a killer.

‘Shit,’ said Jo. ‘This has been some fucking night.’

‘It ain’t over yet, babe,’ said Kerrys. She reached into her pocket and produced the white envelope with the word ‘Shannon’ on it, and gave it to Jo, who opened it, and read the letter inside. As she read the note, tears welled up in her eyes, blinding her to the words on the page as she shared the silent pain her friend must have gone through. And they hadn’t known.

‘Wow,’ she said at last, shaking her head.

‘I know,’ said Kerrys. She picked up the gun and weighed it in her hand admiringly. ‘This is so cool,’ she said.

Jo looked at the gun with distaste. ‘Throw it away,’ she said. Just then her mobile rang. ‘This might be Shaz,’ she told Kerrys. It wasn’t. It was Cass.

‘Cass! Where are you?’

‘I’m back,’ said Cass.

‘You’re here?’

‘Yes. Where are you?’

‘I’m with Kerrys. Trying to find Shannon.’

‘Because of the note?’ asked Cass.

‘That, and some diamonds,’ said Jo.

‘Diamonds?’ repeated Cass, confused.

‘We’ll explain when we see you,’ Jo told her. ‘Where are you? We’ll pick you up.’

‘I’m in Blake Street.’

‘Stay there. We’re on our way.’

Jo hung up, and turned to see Kerrys looking at her, bewildered.

‘What diamonds?’ asked Kerrys.

‘Oh yeah.’ Jo nodded. ‘You know those diamonds that were stolen the other day and have been all over the news? Well, I think Shannon has them.’

THE BRIDGE

51

Sunday night

The Thames at night. Beautiful, as the reflections of the city’s lights danced and twinkled on the black waters. The Millennium Wheel, lit up like a fairground. Its lights picked out a small, slight figure standing perilously on the parapet of Westminster Bridge. Shannon.

Suddenly there was the screech of a car skidding to a halt near her. Car doors opened and there was the sound of running feet. Shannon turned, alarm in her eyes. Kerrys, Jo and Cassandra stood there, watching her. Even from this distance she could see the fear in their eyes.

‘Come on down, Shannon,’ said Kerrys. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

Shannon hesitated. She looked at the three girls. She’d trusted them, and now . . .

Kerrys pulled something from her pocket and pointed it at Shannon. It was a gun, the metal reflected in the lights.

‘I said come on down, girl!’ snapped Kerrys. ‘With the stones! Right now!’

‘We’ve got what you want,’ said Joanne as calmly as she could. But right at this moment she wasn’t feeling calm. Inside her chest her heart was beating wildly. From her pocket she took an envelope and held it up for Shannon to see. ‘Now give us what we want.’

Shannon hesitated, then she reached into her own pocket and took out a small black bag. The diamonds.

But so what? What’s the point? There isn’t one. Life is . . . pointless.

Shannon slipped the bag with the diamonds back in her pocket and turned away from the other three girls. Below her were the waters of the Thames. Inviting. The end to all her troubles.

‘No . . . !’ screamed Jo loudly.

At Jo’s shout, Shannon stopped herself, bringing her foot back, changing her mind, but it was too late, her weight had already begun pulling her over the edge of the bridge to the dark water below . . .

Frantically she scrabbled to get a grip on the bridge, but she couldn’t. She was slipping. She felt strong hands grab hold of her legs and body and pull her back. And then she was falling off the bridge, but in the other direction, towards the pavement.

The four girls crashed to the hard ground, Jo, Kerrys and Cass underneath, with Shannon on top of them.

‘Ow!’ said Cass.

They struggled to sit up. Shannon looked accusingly at Kerrys.

‘You had a gun,’ she said. ‘You were going to shoot me!’

‘No, I wasn’t,’ protested Kerrys. She looked at the gun, now lying on the ground. ‘It was just having the gun.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve always wanted to say something like that. You know: “Come on down, girl! With the stones!” It was too good to miss!’

The four girls struggled to their feet. Jo looked at Shannon and her heart went out to her friend. She looked so frail, so defenceless, so vulnerable.

‘Why do you wanna kill yourself?’ she asked.

‘I don’t,’ said Shannon, shaking her head but unable to look her friends in the eye. ‘I mean, I did. I think I changed my mind just before you got here.’

‘Then why you try to jump just now?’ demanded Kerrys.

Shannon shrugged.

‘I’m not sure I did. I started to, but then I didn’t want to, and I slipped.’ She looked at them apologetically. ‘I’m sorry.’

Jo stepped forward and put her arms around Shannon.

‘That business with Dillon,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t what it looked like. I just had to get you out of the store. There was a robbery going on.’

Shannon nodded.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Not about the robbery, but . . . that something wasn’t right. After all, I was the one who ended up with the diamonds.’

‘We all read your mum’s note,’ said Kerrys.

Shannon looked at them, shocked. All three lowered their eyes, shamed.

‘Sorry,’ said Jo.

‘Me too,’ said Cass.

‘Yeah, and me,’ said Kerrys.

Jo held out the envelope to Shannon. Shannon shook her head.

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I know what it says. I don’t need . . .’ She swallowed as the words caught in her throat. ‘I don’t wanna read it.’

‘We didn’t know about the baby stuff,’ said Cass awkwardly. ‘We just thought you were . . . you know . . . sick.’

Shannon dropped her head again, her hair covering her face, muffling her words slightly as she said, ‘I would have told you. I’ve just been feeling . . .’

Her words trailed off.

‘Alone,’ said Jo.

Kerrys and Cass nodded in agreement.

‘We know,’ said Kerrys.

‘And believe me, you’re not,’ added Cass.

‘Also, we’re sorry,’ said Kerrys. She took a deep breath and added, ‘We should have been more attentive, but we ain’t exactly had the best three days of our lives. I messed up Jo’s weekend —’

‘Other people messed that up,’ interrupted Jo.

‘Whatever.’ Kerrys shrugged. ‘And by the look of Cass, she’s having a midlife crisis.’

‘You can say that again,’ muttered Cass ruefully.

‘So, no proper excuses and we would have been here for you earlier, but —’

‘We’ve been a little occupied,’ finished Jo.

Cass leaned forward and wrapped Shannon in a big hug.

‘But whatever happened, we’re here for you now. And for each other.’

‘So now would be a good time to give you these, Cass,’ said Kerrys. From her pocket she produced Cass’s keys. Cass looked at them as if she was about to make a sarcastic crack. Then her face softened and she gave Kerrys a smile.

‘And now would be a good time for me to do something with these,’ said Shannon, and she took the bag of diamonds from her pocket and opened it. The girls looked at the shining stones in awe.

‘Wow!’ said Jo.

‘Worth millions!’ added Kerrys.

‘I got one too,’ put in Cassandra, and she pulled out the solitary diamond she’d found on the floor of her hotel room and showed it to the others. ‘That guy must have accidentally dropped it in my bag when there was all that going on outside the Cappuccino.’

They all gazed at the precious haul in awed and reverent silence, until Cass finally asked, ‘What are we gonna do with them?’

‘Get the reward,’ said Jo. ‘It’s bound to be big.’ She sighed. ‘And then we can get back to normal life.’

Kerrys gave a big heartfelt sigh. ‘After the weekend I’ve had, normal will be heaven.’

They stood in silence, their attention still on the precious stones glittering in the lights that illuminated the river. In that silence was an unspoken thought hanging in their minds. Once again, it was Cass who put it into words. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t get back to normal just yet.’

The other girls looked at her.

‘What’s your idea?’ asked Jo.

52

The sound of the car horn tooting outside woke Mr Richards. He pulled himself up off the couch and looked out of the window. A car was just pulling away from the kerb. Someone had sprayed ‘GIRLS RULE. PS I LOVE YOU’ on the side. Mr Richards was sure that was Shannon sitting in the back of the car, looking towards the flat and waving, but then the car was gone, vanished into the night.

He shook his head. It had to be Shannon and those friends of hers, but why toot like that and wake him up? And the neighbours.

He was about to slip back down on the couch when something on the table caught his eye. It was a hand-drawn cartoon, with a small black bag resting on it. He wandered over to it. The cartoon was Shannon’s work — he recognised her style — and there was all manner of things going on in it. Part of it looked like a robbery in a convenience store, with two men with guns. The four girls were in the drawing too: Shannon and her friends Cassandra, Kerrys and Jo. There looked to be fights happening, but at the end the four girls were all smiling and in a car together, waving goodbye.

There was a note by the drawing, held down by the small black bag. He lifted the small bag up and read the note: ‘Back soon, Dad. Love you, Shannon. PS I came across these by accident. Tell the police. Collect the reward. It’s a 4-way split with the girls.’

Puzzled, Mr Richards looked at the small black bag. Then he opened it and his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened as he saw the diamonds sparkling brightly inside.

The four girls sat in the plane, glasses of champagne in their hands. They were halfway across the Atlantic, flying away from their individual nightmares in London. Their eyes were on the TV screens in front of them, showing the latest international news. While the banner with the words ‘Diamond heist arrests’ rolled across the screen, the reporter looked intently into the camera and said, ‘There has been a domino rally of criminals who have all reportedly turned informant. Police are currently looking at forty-five arrests.’

‘Wow!’ breathed Shannon. ‘Forty-five!’

‘I am gonna be in so much trouble when we get back,’ grinned Jo. ‘I mean, leaving the mart like that.’

Cass sipped at her champagne.

‘We all are,’ she said. Then she smiled. ‘But that’s what rich parents and their credits cards are for, right?’

‘We’ll pay them back when we get the reward,’ said Kerrys.

Cass shook her head. ‘They can afford it,’ she said. ‘And it’s nice for them to do something good with their money for once.’

Shannon looked suddenly thoughtful.

‘Do you think we’ll have fun in America?’ she asked.

Jo grinned happily and raised her glass in a toast.

‘It’ll be great!’ she told her. ‘I mean, come on! Five days, four girls! We’re all smart. What the fuck could possibly go wrong?’

The air hostess moved past them with a drink on a tray, heading further down the First Class cabin. She stopped beside a classy-looking woman who was reading a newspaper.

‘Your drink, Mrs Field,’ she said quietly.

Kelly Field lowered her paper and took the drink with a nod.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

As the hostess left, Kelly thought about how near she had been to The Big One: so close she could almost smell the diamonds and the money. But at the last second it had been snatched away from her. Well, one day she’d meet up with those girls again, and when she did . . .

Noel Clarke

Noel Clarke was born and raised in west London. At secondary school he began to excel in drama and his dream of going into acting was realised after he left university. In 2003 he won The Laurence Olivier Award for ‘Most Promising Newcomer’. He wrote and starred in the multi award-winning 2006 movie Kidulthood, also published by Bloomsbury as a novelisation by Jim Eldridge. Noel was voted Orange Rising Star at the BAFTAs in 2009. Well known from his roles in Dr Who and Auf Wiedersehen Pet, Noel has made regular appearances on many TV shows, including The Bill, Casualty and Holby City. He has had lead roles in the plays Talking About Men and Where Do We Live, among others.

Jim Eldridge

Jim Eldridge worked for twelve years as a teacher before turning to full-time writing in 1987. Jim started his writing career in radio. He is the creator and writer of Radio 4’s award-winning and long-running King Street Junior, and CBBC’s sci-fi drama Powers. He was a key member of the writing teams on The Ghost Hunter and Julia Jekyll and Harriet Hyde. He has had over 250 TV and 250 radio scripts broadcast in the UK and across the world. Jim has also written humorous titles, graphic novels and many children’s books over the years, starting in 1985 with How To Handle Grown Ups. More recent titles include the Warpath series, and The Trenches and Desert Danger in the My Story series. He wrote the novelisation of Noel Clarke’s screenplay for the 2006 movie Kidulthood. Jim was born in London and now lives in Cumbria.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Imprint Page

Sunday night

Shannon

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Cassandra

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Kerrys

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Joanne

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

The Bridge

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Noel Clarke

Jim Eldridge