Murder Mile

Chapter 10

Neil Henderson awoke with a blowtorch burning behind his eyes. His head throbbed, soundly and persistently. His mouth felt like there was something in there, something alien, a sponge perhaps or blotting paper — something that absorbed all the moisture. He had forgotten how hard it was to return to old habits. Even alcohol; your resistance was never the same after a short spell away. It took time and repeated bouts of abuse to build up tolerance; he wondered how long it would take him.

Henderson rose on the mattress, Ange was still sleeping at his side; she had passed out long before him. He remembered her hysterics, the fit of near panic, and the terror on her face as she shrieked out. What the hell was wrong with her? He had seen all kinds of bad trips, he’d seen withdrawals where punters thought their demons had taken them over — it was all inside their heads. Henderson knew Ange was losing it; Christ, she had just about lost it before he went away, so where did that put her now? He turned, eyed her bare back where she lay on the mattress, her shoulders shivering.

‘You’ve got some problems girl.’

He lifted the covers, exposed her naked frame. ‘Still got a fine arse on you, though.’

Of course she had, he thought, the girl was only twenty. It would take a fair few years yet — even at her rate of intake — to totally wreck herself. He ran his hand over her backside, down the edge of her thigh. ‘Few bawbees to be made off that yet!’

Henderson pulled back the cover, started to shake Angela by the shoulder. She turned over and fumbled her way to his side of the bed; as she grabbed his groin, lowered her head, the move seemed altogether mechanical, too practised.

‘Hey, hey… What the fuck you up to?’ said Henderson.

Angela carried on, seemed barely aware of his presence.

‘I’m talking to you.’ Henderson grabbed her hair, twisted a handful of it; it took some tightening of the knot to alert Angela, wake her from her daze.

‘Ahh…’

‘Sort yourself out, eh,’ said Henderson. ‘Sit up, I want to talk to you.’

Angela reached hands to her head, her eyes widened. Immediately she seemed to have wakened, fell into a coughing fit.

Henderson flared his nostrils. ‘Look at the fucking kip of you, who’s going to pay for a skank, eh?’

Angela rubbed her head, ‘What was that for?’

‘To wake you up… Seen the time?’

Angela looked towards the window; it was dark outside. Time she should be out on the Links, scoring punters. Henderson tweaked the tip of her nose, ‘You hearing me?’

‘Aye, I hear you.’ She pushed his hand away, withdrew to the far side of the mattress. ‘You got any fags?’

‘Fags is it?’ Henderson put one foot out of the bed, tried to hook a toe under his jeans, dragged them over. He took a packet of Club Kingsize out of his pocket, sparked up, then chucked the packet at Angela. ‘This better not be the start of you scrounging off me, you know I can’t be doing with that kind of patter… There’s no free rides in this world, Ange.’

She took out a cigarette, put it between her lips and lit it. ‘I’ll get out there in a minute, Hendy… Just have a quick fag, eh.’

Henderson got off the mattress, pulled his jeans on; the belt buckle rattled as he fastened the buttons. When he was fully dressed he went round to Angela’s side of the room and crouched down.

‘See that way you went off there, when I put the telly on…’ he watched her press the cigarette into her mouth, inhale deep. ‘What was that all about?’

She shrugged. ‘I dunno.’

Henderson grabbed her face in his hand, ‘I’m not playing fucking games with you, Ange… I want to know.’ She yanked her face away. He saw the imprints of his fingers in the white flesh of her jaw line. He wagged a fist at her. ‘I mean it, if I’m going to be looking out for you, I need to know that you’re fit for it and not going to be getting fucking locked up… Not worth my time, is it?’

Angela looked away, pinched her lips. Her eyes flickered as she raised them towards the ceiling. Her reply came hard and flat, ‘I’m fine.’

Henderson knew she was keeping something from him; experience had taught him that when whores had secrets there was a good reason for it. Someone else was stamping their mark on them; they had a few quid stashed away; or a secret punter that was paying big. He didn’t know what it was that Angela had to keep quiet about but he knew he needed to find out. He grabbed her by the throat, pinned her to the wall.

‘Now you better fucking loosen that gob of yours, or I might be forced to close it once and for fucking all… You get me?’

Angela whimpered, her eyes reddened — intricate little red lines like fine cracks in pottery appeared over the whites. ‘It’s nothing… nothing.’

Henderson gripped her throat tighter, forced his thumb deep into the crevice of her neck; Angela started to splutter, gasp for breath. Her face darkened as he brought the cigarette up to her eye.

‘How many fucking punters do you think you’d score out on the Links with one eye, eh?’ He moved the glowing amber tip of the cigarette to within an inch of Angela’s eye, pointed it like a dart. ‘I’ll fucking do it… I will.’

‘OK. OK. Let me go.’

‘And you’ll tell me?’

‘Yes. I will. I promise.’

Henderson released his grip on her neck; Angela fell forward and landed face down on the mattress. She shot hands up to her throat as she coughed and gasped for breath. She was still spluttering as Henderson loomed over her and inhaled deeply on the cigarette he had threatened to blind her with.

‘I’m waiting,’ he said.

She coughed again, some long trails of spit escaped her mouth.

‘I’ve not got all fucking night!’

Angela forced herself up onto her knees, her thin fingers traced the line of her throat as she tried to massage some of the pain away. She looked ready to fold again, pass out. Henderson reached over and yanked her to her feet; he was surprised by how light she was.

Angela shrieked again, as she stood, shivering and naked before him.

‘Right, talk…’ he said.

She wiped a tear from her cheek, ‘I–I can’t…’

Henderson lit up, he drew back a fist.

‘OK. OK,’ yelled Angela.

‘I’m losing the fucking rag with you, girl…’

She gripped her waist in her arms, spoke softly. ‘Can I show you something?’

Henderson’s face shrivelled into confusion. ‘Show me what?’

‘It’s just, I’ve never told anyone before.’

‘Told anyone what?’

Rain started to patter on the window; Angela looked away, slowly got down from the mattress and walked towards the other side of the room. By the doorway sat a small coffee table with a drawer in the top; she opened up and removed a Yellow Pages. Underneath the directory sat a little mauve-coloured diary. ‘I wrote it in here.’

‘Wrote what?’ said Henderson.

She held up the diary, she seemed to have trouble even looking at it. Some more tears rolled over her cheekbones. ‘What happened… out there.’

Henderson stubbed his cigarette in the smoked-glass ashtray by the mattress, walked towards Angela. He snatched the diary out of her hand. ‘This is like a fucking notebook.’

Angela watched him turning over the pages. ‘It’s a journal… I used to keep it, before I met you.’

Henderson held it up, ‘Well, what the fuck’s in it?’

Angela looked towards the window, it was dark out and the rain was getting heavier. ‘I need to go. We’ve no money.’

‘What about this?’

‘You asked what it was about… It’s in there.’

‘So I have to fucking read this?’

Angela nodded, moved away. She pulled on her black mini-dress and stuck her bare feet into her heels. As she put on her coat she saw Henderson flicking through the diary.

‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’

‘Tell anyone what?’

‘What’s in there.’

He looked at her, smiled. ‘I haven’t read it yet… so I guess that all depends, doesn’t it?’