had a bath in three days.
He can see now why tramps hunch in on themselves. It’s the shame of being dirty, of being different. They don’t want to be noticed.
He gets off at Balham and blinks into the daylight. Where should he start to look for Caz? The woman at the squat had said she’d gone to get some money. Most likely she meant begging.
He looks around the entrance of the station and catches sight of a man sat on a blanket, a teardrop tattooed under one eye.
‘Spare some change.’
Luke shakes his head. ‘Do you know Mad Caz?’
‘Cocky Scouser?’
Luke laughs. ‘That’s right. Have you seen her?’
The man eyes Luke’s dirty trainers and rucksack. Caz has tried to make Luke understand the rules of the street. Never take someone else’s spot, never move someone else’s stash, and never give anyone up.
‘If Caz wants you to find her, you will,’ says the man.
Luke’s desperate, he doesn’t know what he’ll do without her.
Perhaps it shows in his face, because the man’s harsh eyes slacken—or perhaps that’s just what Luke wants to think.
‘I haven’t seen you around before.’
Luke shakes his head in answer.
‘Caz showing you the ropes, is she?’ the man says to himself. ‘I’ll tell you what. You get a couple of tins from the Twenty-Four-Seven and you can wait with me. If she comes back this way you’ll find her.’
Luke doesn’t need to be asked twice.
‘Tennent’s Super,’ the man calls after him. ‘And make sure they’re fucking cold.’
Luke scuttles across the road into the shop and heads for the freezer. He tugs at a can of Tennent’s but it is held tight in plastic to another three. Maybe you can only buy them in packs of four. He left home with what his dad had given him for a new computer game and there isn’t much left. Mum always goes potty, saying Dad should spend more time with them and less with his fancy woman, then he wouldn’t feel the need to bribe them.
He did the maths in his head. The beer would leave him with six quid. Not much, not even enough for a McDonald’s for him and Caz. Maybe he should leave it. Then again, the bloke at the tube would be pretty pissed off if he came back empty-handed. Maybe he could say they wouldn’t serve him. Luke watched a girl who looked about ten years old getting twenty Bensons and knew that would never fly.
‘Do you want those?’
Luke realised the man behind the counter was speaking to him, although he was still having a conversation with someone else on the phone.
He took the money without touching Luke’s hand.
The face in the mirror told the sorry story. Lines etched around the eyes, skin as colourless as the sky. Lilly hadn’t been to bed the night before.
She picked up the phone and dialled. ‘Is Sam there?’
‘Nice to speak to you too,’ said her ex-husband.
It wasn’t so long ago that all their conversations went like this, each sentence tight with accusation.
‘Sorry, David, bad night.’
His voice softened. ‘I’m not surprised. I bet you can’t stop thinking about what happened up at the school.’
Lilly’s finger grazed Anna’s file. ‘Something like that.’
A silence stretched between them. David had never been comfortable with sadness or fear. In fact he was pretty useless with emotion full stop. When Lilly could no longer tolerate his affair with Cara and had kicked him out his relief had been palpable. He could have refused, promised to give up his mistress, but no, he simply couldn’t bear a scene—and so had all but run away.
‘I’ll fetch Sam,’ he said at last.
* * *
Lilly bought a large latte from the coffee shop on the High Street. She could see her mother’s pursed lips, the click of her tongue at the extravagance of spending £2.10 on a drink when there was a perfectly good kettle in the kitchen.
‘Needs must,’ she whispered into the ether.
A quick chat with Sam had cheered her a little, and now she hoped to sneak into her office, hide under her desk and let the frothy milk do the rest.
As soon as she opened the door she knew her plan was doomed. Rupes and Sheila were both in the reception area, poring over the post.
Lilly’s smile was weak. ‘Hi.’
Rupes’s face was impassive. If she knew about Lilly’s trip to the police station she would be furious.
‘Everything okay?’ asked Lilly.
Rupes said nothing. Oh, this silent treatment was worse than a bollocking.
‘You’d better show her,’ said Sheila, and Lilly noticed how pale she looked. Maybe this wasn’t about Anna.
Rupes handed Lilly a copy of the Three Counties Observer.
SCHOOLBOY MURDERED IN THE HEART OF ENGLAND
The TCO can exclusively reveal that Charles Stanton, 16, was shot in cold blood at his Hertfordshire school by a crazed gunman thought to be seeking asylum.
On and on the story went, with a grainy but still grisly photograph of the spot where Charles had been killed.
It was bad, truly awful, but it was the final paragraph that made Lilly’s heart sink.
The police, who have made no comment until this point, have confirmed that a teenage girl has been arrested and charged and will be brought to court at the earliest opportunity.
‘You should never have gone sneaking off to help that girl,’ said Sheila.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Lilly.
‘You had no business taking that case,’ said Sheila. ‘We don’t even do asylum stuff.’
Lilly rounded on her secretary. ‘For one thing, this is a criminal matter, not “asylum stuff”, as you so nicely put it, and for another I have not taken on Anna’s case.’
‘So you went down the nick for a laugh, did you?’ said Sheila. ‘Didn’t think about us, did you? More interested in some kid who ain’t even from here.’
Lilly’s face burned. Where was Sheila getting her information?
‘She has a name and it’s Anna,’ she said. ‘She came here to escape things you and I could never dream of.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Sheila. ‘And my granddad didn’t get shot at in Normandy so we could give a home to everybody with a sob story.’
‘What’s the point?’ said Lilly, and turned to leave. ‘I’m not being told what to do by a bloody secretary.’
As Sheila opened her mouth for another tirade, Rupes pulled Lilly out of the room.
‘It doesn’t mention the firm,’ said Lilly.
Rupinder held out a flyer. ‘This was pushed through the letterbox this morning.’
We urge the people of Britain to stand up for what they know is right. Stop our precious resources dwindling away while our own old aged pensioners do without. Refuse to support non-English shops and businesses.
‘Bin it,’ said Lilly.
‘The other partners are worried that some clients might go elsewhere,’ said Rupes.
Lilly shook her head. ‘We