The Facts of Life and Death

5

THE NAKED GIRL sat on the empty beach.

The tide was so far out that its edge had disappeared in the low grey cloud, and the sand was hard and wet in the persistent drizzle.

She sat cross-legged and hunched over. Cold and snivelling, with her back to the invisible sea, and her hands trapped under her icy buttocks.

‘Call your mother,’ the man said.

Fresh sobs burst from the girl and the man looked at his watch. He prodded her again with the phone. It was an iPhone. Better than any phone he’d ever had. And the girl was what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Ridiculous.

‘Call your mother,’ he repeated slowly.

The girl was crying so hard now that when she tried to say something, he couldn’t understand it.

‘What?’ he said. He frowned in concentration, but her words couldn’t get past her weeping.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! Stop crying and speak clearly!’

‘You’re going to kill me!’

‘Yes, I am,’ he agreed. ‘Call your mother.’

She only wailed loudly.

‘Don’t you want to say goodbye?’ he asked, almost kindly.

The girl raised her snot-stained face defiantly.

‘Shut up!’ she shrieked, and lunged at his legs. She didn’t get her hands from under her bottom fast enough, and toppled forward on to her shoulder and her face.

He righted her roughly with the toe of his boot. The left side of her face was coated in a gritty tan mask, and she blinked and gasped as though she’d risen from the sea, not the sand.

He held up the phone so he could take a picture.

‘Eight megapixels,’ he observed. ‘On a bloody phone.’ He showed her the photo. ‘Maybe I’ll send that to your mates. What do you think? I’ve got all their numbers in here.’

Her face slackened in misery.

‘Please don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t send that to anyone.’

‘Then call your mother.’

The girl started to cry again – hard and steady. She shifted her weight to release one of her hands from under her buttock, and took the phone from him. She was shaking so hard that she took three goes to hit the right number. On the screen a picture of an old-fashioned telephone vibrated in time to the ringtone. Under the buzzing picture were the words Calling Mum.

‘It’s ringing,’ she wept.

‘Really?’ he said sarcastically.

‘What do I say?’

‘Say goodbye.’

‘Can I tell her I love her?’

‘If you do.’

‘I do love her!’ cried the girl. ‘Can I speak to my dad too?’

‘This isn’t Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.’

The ringing stopped and a face appeared on the screen.

‘Mum?’ said the girl.

‘Do I look like Mum, peabrain?’

‘Ricky, get Mum.’ The girl was suddenly calm.

‘What am I? Your slave?’

‘Just get her, Ricky! It’s an emergency.’

The boy had a stud through his eyebrow. Spoilt brats, the both of them.

‘What’s the magic word?’

‘The magic word is fucking please you fucking arsehole.’

‘I’m gonna tell Mum you said that. You’re in deep shit.’

‘I know,’ said the girl, and started to cry again. ‘I know.’

Ricky turned his head to one side and yelled, ‘Mum! Kelly’s on the phone!’ Then there were some random ceiling shots before a woman’s cheerful face appeared.

‘Hi, Kells.’

‘Mummy?’ That was all the girl could get out before the crying overtook her completely.

The woman’s face was instantly washed with panic.

‘Kelly, what’s wrong? Where are you?’

‘MummyMummyMummyMummy…’ The girl’s snot and spit looped from her lips and on to the phone.

‘Say goodbye,’ the man reminded her sharply.

‘Kelly, who’s that? Who’s with you? Where are you?’

‘He’s going to kill me, Mummy. He made me call you to say goodbye.’

The woman’s face went loose with horror.

This was more like it.

‘I love you, Mummy!’

‘KELLY! Brian! Call the police! BRIAN! Kelly, baby – wait! Who’s there? Who’s with you?’

The girl tilted the phone towards the man and he grinned and waved.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’m going to kill your little girl now, while you watch.’

‘NO!’ she shrieked. ‘No! Wait! Wait! Stop! Brian! BRIAN! Someone’s got Kelly! BRIAN!’

He started to laugh. Her hysteria was so tinny and tiny; it was like watching a sea-monkey throw a tantrum in a little glass bowl.

The woman babbled, ‘Don’t hurt her. Please don’t hurt her. What do you want? I’ll give you anything. What do you want? Money? Please just talk to me and tell me what you want. Anything you want. PLEASE!’

He didn’t want anything else, but he couldn’t answer, he was laughing so hard. He doubled over, choked with mirth.

The girl saw her chance; she got up and ran away.

Away from the pile of clothes and towards Westward Ho! Back to the slipway, the bingo hall and the Hocking’s ice-cream van.

The man straightened up and ran a few loose paces after her, but then stopped and just watched her go – arse jiggling, phone waving, and a high, reedy ‘Help!’ squirting from her every few strides.

It was one of the funniest things he’d ever seen.

He pulled off the balaclava and laughed until he finally wound down into long sighs of amusement – then he wiped his eyes and looked across the flat brown sand, where he was the tallest thing for miles. It made him think of Gulliver’s Travels. He’d had the book as a child and had never read it – but he’d looked at the pictures again and again and again.

Now he felt like Gulliver, stomping all over those little people, flicking them off cliffs and picking them up by their heels between his giant thumb and forefinger.

Making them do whatever he wanted them to.

It made him feel mighty.