Everything is dark as I stumble down the stairs. I should look for my dad, I suppose . . . but he’s with that Tess . . . and I can’t leave this person to scream all alone. It sounds like a woman. It sounds like she’s in terrible pain.
There’s light coming from under the kitchen door. The screams have stopped now, but I can hear someone crying and a man’s voice shouting, ‘Where is he? He’s been here . . . tell us . . . where is he?’
I can see through the slight crack where the door’s open. Two men are holding a woman’s arms, and one’s holding a knife to her throat. I’ve never seen her before, but she’s about twenty-four and really pretty with huge eyes and curly hair. She must be Lucy, part three of the ménage a trois. Her eyes shine white and scared against her black skin and her face is wet with tears.
I ought to creep up the stairs again and find my dad. I ought to find a way of calling the police. But they’re shaking her and she’s screaming again and I can’t bear the noise.
I burst into the room. ‘Oh God,’ she cries, ‘Who are you?’
‘Let her go,’ I yell, ‘It’s me you want . . . don’t hurt her . . . let her go. . .’
They turn to me. They’re both dressed all in black and their faces are covered by balaclavas. They look a bit like the Islamic ladies that used to come into Mr Patel’s shop. But the ladies had nice smiley eyes and these guys . . . these guys don’t.
They let go of Lucy and she falls to the floor, sobbing and crying. They grab me, pinching and wrenching my arms. ‘Is it him?’ barks one to the other, and his mate sticks his head right by my face. I can’t see his mouth but I can smell his stinking breath. I’m struggling and kicking, trying to get free.
‘It’s him,’ he says. ‘It’s him all right.’ And I nearly die of fright and shock because I know that voice.
It’s Jukes. It’s the guy whose family have been chasing us since the day that I gave my statement to the police. What the hell is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be in prison?
‘You had to snitch,’ he says. ‘You couldn’t just shut up, forget you was there, could’ya?’
I’m trembling, and I open my mouth to beg him to leave me alone. I’ll tell the police I was lying; I’ll tell them I stabbed Rio . . . anything . . . anything to stay alive. But those words don’t come out. Instead I hear myself shouting, ‘Get off me . . . you murderer. . .’ and I bring my knee up fast and hard to his balls, just like my mum practised when she went to Women’s Self Defence.
He yells – the kind of noise a gorilla makes in the zoo at feeding time – and thumps me in the stomach. Then someone kicks his arm, so the knife flies across the room, and he’s falling backwards. And my dad kicks him in the face really hard, and twists to kick the other guy too. Bang! Right in his teeth. He wasn’t kidding about the black belt in tae kwan do.
Jukes lies there groaning on the floor and I know I should pin him down, but somehow I can’t move. I don’t know why. I’m all weak and hot and my legs are trembling. Tess jumps on Jukes’s back, while my dad kicks the other guy again. She’s armed with a Jimmy Choo, and when Jukes tries to move, she whacks him on the forehead.
My legs don’t work any more. I’m kneeling down, shaking. I’ll be OK in a minute. It’s just the shock.
There’s a banging sound, a bell ringing, shouting coming from outside. ‘Lucy. . .’ gasps my dad, ‘It’s the police. Get them . . . tell them. . .’ He’s lying across Jukes’s mate, who’s clutching his own jaw and trying to throttle my dad at the same time.
Lucy stumbles to the door. I’m in her way. I try and move, but I can’t. She looks at me and starts screaming again. I don’t know why. My dad shouts at her, ‘Luce . . . for Christ’s sake . . . do it now. . .’ and she gulps and squeezes past me. The door bangs behind her.
Jukes is twisting and turning, Tess struggles to stay on top of him. She grabs his balaclava and pulls it off. He’s cussing her, spitting, calling her a bitch. She hits her sharp heel straight at his eye, and he falls backwards, hands clapped to his face, screeching. It’s the best sound ever.
And then there’s banging and pounding up the stairs, and the room is full of policemen. One nearly falls over me and I try and get up, but my legs have lost the plot altogether. I can’t even scrunch myself up smaller. I’m just lying on the floor.
Two cops grab Jukes and haul him out of the room. Two more grab his pal. My dad is shouting and yelling now. He’s shaking one of the policeman’s arms, pointing at me. I can’t hear what he’s saying. The noise makes no sense. It’s all just swirling around my head.
And then a guy kneels down next to me, touching my body. What the hell’s going on? I try and push him away, but my arms aren’t working either. ‘It’s OK, son,’ he says. ‘We’re going to get you out of here very soon.’
My dad’s at my side shouting at the man. I can hear him now. ‘You’ve got to help him . . . got to do something . . . please Ty, don’t go to sleep, stay with us now. . .’
My dad’s T-shirt is sticking to me. It feels wet, and so does one side of the Calvin Kleins. That’s strange. I’m trying to focus, but the room is speeding, whirling . . . it’s like being at the fair, like being on the Twister. My dad’s holding my hand and all I can feel are his cold fingers gripping tight while everything else spins around.
I look down and see red. A thin red line, running down my leg. A scarlet pool on the floor. But if I was bleeding it would hurt, wouldn’t it? I’m hallucinating. I must be seeing the blood . . . so much blood . . . when Rio was killed, when I hurt Arron. I’m shaking again. I’m choking. I’m giddy and dizzy and everything is glitter and dust.
‘Hold on, Ty,’ says my dad, ‘Hold on, help is here, they’re here. . .’
I make a super-human effort to get my mouth working. I turn my head to look at him. I can see his big brown eyes through the sparkling speckles dancing around my head.
‘I want my mum,’ I say, and I squeeze his hand. ‘Please get my mum.’