Her mantra
Didnt sound very saintly, huh?
but he was laughing as hed said it. Maybe he was just taking the fucking mick. Like always. The fucker.)
Hang onwho was thatthat Russian geezer theyd called a prophet who actually had sex with just about everybody? And Boney M wrote a song called Ra-Ra-Rasputin all about his various pranks and everything?
Wasnt he notorious (didnt they mention it somewhere in the lyric?)? And when they shot him dead, didnt he keep on getting up again? Like Freddie Kruger? Didnt he just keep on rising? Like Jesus or something?
Dont remember Mother Theresa pullin any stunts like that An if she did the papers wouldve been full of it, cuz Kane says The Pope owns the media
Or is that the Mafia?
Uh
Hold on a sec
Did everybody notorious always end up getting wasted? Couldnt you be something plain and simple like a notorious doctor (if you hadnt killed a patient? What about the bloke who created the first test-tube baby? Did he qualify?)? A notorious priest (if you hadnt messed with a choirboy)? Could you be a notoriousa notorious sweetheart? Yes?
No. It didnt sound right. A notorious flirt, maybe.
Kelly frowned and tucked in her skirt so the wind wouldnt lift it and show off her thighs. It was a little short
Shoulda thought of that
and the fabric was rather flimsy (for something supposedly military
although shed never yet seen anyone wearing a mini-skirt in a situation of mortal combat. Except for Lara Croft
Tank Girl
That pretty cow in Alias
and she always did okay).
Kelly was sitting on a wall outside the Elwick Road Villas. It was a high wall facing a main road in Ashfords town centre. Her brother, Jason, had taught her how to climb it (before theyd put him away. Joyriding. His thirteenth formal offence
Aw
Unlucky for some, eh?).
Jason always knew the best route and the shortest cut (it was a fancy wall, built from some kind of rock
Limestone?
Granite?
there were bits where you could find a hand-hold and a foot-hold. Where you could pull yourself up).
Kelly took another bite of her celery. A car honked its horn at her. She didnt look towards it, merely raised her middle finger
You twat
and pulled her hood down lower.
Yeah. Notorious slut
Stop thinkin about it
Jason was her middle brother. Jason Broad. Twenty-one last Thursday. Inside for three years solid. Served eight months already. Father of four (two different mothers). At school Billy SloaneSloaneyhad called him queer; Jase broke his arm in three different places (the canteen, the corridor, the playing fields) and no one but no onecould ever seriously question his masculinity after that.
Had a heart of gold. He really did. Always took care of her (once shat on the bonnet of the car of a teacher she hated
Jap car
Hyundai
Mr Whitechapel
Fuckin Northerner).
Jason was loyal
Bottom line
and you couldnt put a price on loyalty (as her dad always used to say
Before he ran off to Oldham with the daughter of that pig who ran the chippie
To get the police involved!
She was sixteen next birthday and a slag everybody knew it
The whole family had been barred from the shop, after
Dads legacy
I mean we were hurtin too, werent we?
No decent chippie within a 2-mile radius
until Jason finally put the wind up them, and they moved to Derby.
The new people were definitely much better better batter, her mum said; crispier. And they were cheaper
Didnt have no teenage kids
Not that it really mattered any more, now Dad was out of the picture).
Nope. You couldnt put a price on loyalty. Kelly cleared her throat (the celery was rather stringy)
Ill say as much to Beede when the bugger finally gets here
Excuse me.
Kelly frowned.
Excuse me.
She glanced up. A young woman was standing to her left, next to the entrance gate. She looked vaguely familiar.
What?
Are these your dogs?
The woman indicated, haughtily, towards two large lurchers which were collapsed on the pavement directly in front of her. Kelly gazed at the two dogs, blankly.
Nope, she eventually volunteered, strictly speakin theyre my dads.
She smirked as she spoke (perhaps a little provocatively). The woman didnt smile back. She was youngish
ish
and quite pretty. Black, with scruffy, nappy, mid-length hair (pushed back from her face by an alice-band, no earrings, no make-up). Square glasses. Arty frames. Dressed like a virgin
Or Tracy fuckin Chapman
Corduroy jacket, grey polo-neck
Jeans by fuckin Pepe or something
Kelly coolly surveyed her body
Hmmn
Junk in her trunk
But no spare tyre
The woman scowled. Well could you get them to move for me? Why? Kelly shot back. You too good to step over em?
The woman placed her hands on to her hips (Yup. She was class smart but bolshy and Kelly could respect that). Of course not, she snapped, I just dont want to stand on them.
They gets stood on all the time at home, mate, Kelly dead panned, so dont you worry yourself, okay?
She turned her head and gazed up the road. Counted to three. Over the sound of the traffic she could hear one of the dogs growling. Yeah. Right on cue. That was Bud.
Excuse me.
Kelly didnt turn back straight away.
Excuse me.
She turned and mugged surprise. Man, you still there?
One of your dogs just growled at me.
No! Kelly gasped, throwing up her hands in mock-alarm (then plunging them straight back down again as she wobbled on the wall).
Did he really?
Yeah. He did. And Im in no mood for getting bitten, so would you ask them to sodding move, please?
On move Kelly threw her celery over her shoulder (finally engaging fully), pushed her hood back and pointed emphatically. You know what kind of an animal that is?
The woman folded her arms, boredly. Of course I do.
The woman folded her arms, boredly. Of course I do.
Well tell me.
Its a lurcher.
Kelly nodded. Thats it. A Long Dog. A workin dog. My dad used to go coursin with em down on the Marshes
The woman looked disapproving (but only mildly). Kelly shrugged. Not any more, though. We got five of em at home altogether. My dads up in Oldham. My poor mum has to look after em. Costs her a small fuckin fortune, it does.
The woman surveyed the animals, coldly. Well its pretty hard to see what shes spending her money on.
Kelly straightened her back
Hoity!
Its just old age as makes their ribs stand up like that, she explained patiently. Soon as they eat anythin they shit it right out again. Only thing different is it aint in a can.
As if on cue, one of the lurchers stood up, stretched stiffly, tottered (Kellys rival snorted, under her breath), farted (she winced), put its nose to the pavement, located a scent, and staggered off in pursuit of it. The woman immediately took her chance; leaned boldly across the second animal and shoved the gate the second dog didnt object but the gate was locked.
Bollocks.
Kellys eyebrows rose
Get her
So what the hell, she asked smugly, dyou think Im sittin up here for?
The woman didnt answer. She pressed the intercom.
Kelly sighed, piously. Intercoms broke. Theyre fixin it. Thats why the gates are locked.
She pressed it again, anyway.
If you wanna get in youll need a key.
Without warning, the woman kicked out her right foot and booted the wall with it. Im meant to be visiting somebody, she snarled. Then she winced as her toe registered the full impact of the attack.
Feel better now? Kelly asked, plainly delighted by this flagrant loss of composure.
The woman half-smiled to herself (embarrassed but she was cute when she smiled). No. I dont, actually.
The smile gradually expanded into an apologetic smirk.
Ring em, Kelly offered constructively.
Cant. Havent got my phone on me.
Kelly removed her own phone from her pocket.
Whats the number?
Dont know off-hand.
Oh.
Kelly put her phone away again.
The woman glanced up, remembering her manners. But thanks, anyway, she murmured.
Kelly graciously tipped her head, then peered over towards the Villas. There were eight of them; grand; free-standing; Victorian. For the most part converted into flats or apartments as the twatty local Estate Agents liked to have it.
You come to see that black geezer in apartment six? she asked. Why? the woman rejoined staunchly. Do people always visit residents the same colour as they are?
Kelly pursed her lips. The woman removed the strap of a heavy-looking, leather satchel (the kind Kelly associated with teachers and social workers
Yeah. Thatd be right)
from her shoulder and drew another step closer. Youre one of the Broad girls, arent you? she said, her eyes slitting slightly as she gazed up at her.
Kelly slitted her own eyes right back. So what?
I was at school with your brother.
Kelly didnt seem surprised by this information (like nits and the weather, the Broads got everywhere).
Who? she asked. Jase?
No. Paul.
Kelly looked blank.
Paul, the woman reiterated slowly (which Kelly strongly resented), the devil worshipper.
Kelly tossed her head. Satanist, she pronounced scornfully, and it was only a joke, anyways.
The woman nodded. I knew that.
Kelly jutted her chin out, just the same. She looked uncomfortable. The woman observed her disquiet.
So hows he been doing lately? she asked.
Kelly gave her a hard look, then, Fine, she said.
Is he still handing out shoes at the bowling?
Nope.
Oh. Moved on to better things, eh?
Kelly tried and failed to detect any traces of irony in her voice. She glared at her, but said nothing. Well give him my best, if you see him, the woman continued staunchly, almost (but not entirely) running out of conversational impetus. My names Winifred. I was his partner in biology. We dissected a cows eye together once had a right laugh before I transferred to Highworth in the fourth year.
Highworth, Kelly rejoined bitchily, well aint that lovely?
Silence
Kelly inspected her nails (bitten down to the quick) then neatly laced her fingers together. I dont see him that much, she said primly, he moved to Readin.
Reading?
Far from being mollified by this information, Winifreds appetite for news seemed freshly enlivened by it. Really?
Kelly scowled. Yeah.
Reading, huh? She mulled this over for a moment. Well good on him. Because lets face it, she raised her brows, censoriously, no one was ever gonna to give him a proper break around here, eh? She hesitated for a second (then promptly threw caution to the wind). Least of all your psychotic, bloody sister