Purgatory Is a Place Too Read online

“Ok,” I said. “It’s just that I’ve met a girl who claims to have been asked to perform a sex act on him.”

  Sahmir looked dismayed. “I hope not!”

  “She seemed quite clear about it. She’d seen his picture in the newspaper.”

  I saw him dig his nails into his palm.

  “Are there a lot of Pakistani men in the Council?” I asked curiously.

  “Of course there are,” he said impatiently. “The elected members are fifty-two percent Pakistani Muslim.”

  “I don’t know a thing about the Council,” I dismissed. “I barely know what they do!”

  He looked a bit condescendingly at me. “Why do you think it’s fifty-two percent Muslim when there’s only thirty percent in the town population?” His tone was sneering. “The whites can’t be bothered to vote! We’re aiming to get it up to sixty percent.”

  “Ok,” I said in carefully neutral tones. “So the whole community turns out to vote does it? On the encouragement of the community leaders?”

  He glanced sideways at me then looked a bit ashamed. “It’s a bit more than that actually. It all got exposed last year in some sort of investigation. Postal votes were being applied for people who didn’t even exist, heads of families were asking for postal votes for all their female family members and block voting on their behalf, that sort of thing. They proved that twenty or thirty votes at a time were made by the same pen. Some people lost their jobs.”

  “So, fraud basically?” I summed up.

  “Yes,” Sahmir agreed, then said defensively. “But also, we actually bother to turn out to support our own, unlike the whites!”

  “It’s not a war!” I exclaimed. “We don’t have to vote only for our own kind you know! We can decide who has the best policies, not who has the best skin!”

  His eyes flashed fiercely at me. “You lot ought to bother to turn out. What I’m hearing is that Umrani is passing all sorts of policies that benefit the slum landlords and the Pakistani businesses, and there aren’t enough votes on the other side to stop them going through!”

  I thought about it. What Nick had said was family, money, business. So here was money and business. That left family. “What influence does his family have in town?”

  Sahmir rolled his eyes. “Let’s put it this way, when Raj boasts his family could start a small dynasty, he’s got nothing on the Umranis! They’ve got fingers in every pie in this area.”

  “As long as they’re Halal pies!” I joked.

  Sahmir didn’t seem to think it that funny and pointedly ignored my attempt at what I’d thought was a clever quip.

  “Any other family members on the Council?” I continued digging after a slightly awkward pause.

  “An Uncle and a Cousin,” he reported. “But they both have different surnames to him, so hardly anyone seems to notice.”

  “Well that’s something to listen out for,” I suggested. “Watch out for what political favours the grooming groups may be paying for by offering girls to Umrani.”

  He was beginning to look stressed, so I thought we ought to wrap it up. I leant over to switch my pen off. It was up to him if he switched his off. Then I got up.

  As I walked away he said suddenly in a low voice. “Yes I am scared. I’m scared of what I might find out about my own community, and I’m scared of what I might have to see…”

  I turned and looked back at him. I tried to look sympathetic, or reassuring. But how could I reassure him when I already knew that nothing whatsoever that he was going to see or hear in this world I’d ask him to step into would be pleasant?

  Northampton, and the European Championships. Pete had drawn a really poor grid position near the back. I’d drawn a good one nearer the front but thankfully not in pole position which I hated. Paul was doing fine in his World Qualifying races, but he wasn’t bothering to do anything else, so he hadn’t even qualified for the European because he wasn’t far enough up the National Points Table. The Points Table this year was being remarked on as being a potential record breaker for the number of points the top scorers were gathering. One short ban, one injury, one car so smashed it would take a couple of weeks to sort out, or any other reason to have to miss a few meetings, and any one of us could irreversibly lose our position in it. All four of us top runners were having a remarkably successful year.

  “I fancy your chances in this,” Jo whispered to me, as though she didn’t want to tempt fate by letting anyone else hear.

  Devlin and Horrocks, on the chase for the Silver. They weren’t far behind me in the points and had drawn a position ahead of me on the grid. Patterson was top in Scotland and fourth in the National Points Table and was just behind me. The Dutch guys were seeded right through. Toon would be breathing down my neck as usual. He really wanted to win this title one year and he was currently in the top spot in the Netherlands as the Dutch World Cup holder. I wasn’t so sure that Jo was right. But her belief in me gave me a boost.

  “Go for it,” Pete said cheerfully, slapping me on the back before we both got in our cars. He’d obviously already ruled himself out.

  Paul discreetly squeezed my shoulder and said nothing. That was his way, I guess.

  I lined up in my designated position and got into the zone. I kept my head, nursed my tyres, managed to stay ahead of trouble, avoiding the inevitable pushing and shoving from the back that comes when you’re in one of the places further down the grid, just got by Horrocks and Devlin and absolutely bust a gut to sort Toon out on the last bend. I wasn’t going to let the Dutch have this one. If I could decisively deal with Toon then I’d be the heroine of the hour with the attendant crowd, whether or not I won the bloody thing. I went in for the kill and in my mirror I saw Toon spinning round and round and as the chequered flag came down I could hear the cheering even above the roaring of the engines. I drew up satisfied. In the end I’d achieved both goals – doing down the Dutchman, and winning the European.

  Jo was ecstatic, Pete smiling broadly, and Paul really proud, I could tell… It was only when I was handed the cup though that I suddenly burst into tears. How could I have forgotten? I was watching Tyler win this two years ago, just a few months before he died, while I was banned, with Quinn’s little sister Mariah in a baby carrier on my back. There was his name engraved in curly lettering.

  Nat Tyler and the date.

  Jo took the cup off me and looked down. “Ok,” she said abruptly. “I see.” She handed it on to her Dad. “I guess we’re going to get this every time she wins anything now,” she said. “Shame the guy had to go and win everything all the bloody time. I doubt we’re ever going to be handed a bit of silverware without his name on it.”

  “Don’t be so cruel,” Pete snapped at her.

  I wiped roughly at my eyes. Jo was right. I was going to have to get over this. But I knew I’d be running my fingers over the outline of his name over and over again like it would somehow magically bring him back. And nothing would.

  There was a World Qualifier at Skegness this Thursday evening, where all three of us were joking that we’d all just be satisfied to get round in one piece this time. My car had taken a hammering in the European and I had to do loads of work on it and change the tyres. I just couldn’t take Ellie on an outing this week. I couldn’t fit it in. I also had to get down to Mildenhall at the weekend. I couldn’t afford to miss a single race at this stage of the season and with two shale days at the weekend I had a good chance to do well in my bomb proof shale car.

  Far from being satisfied to just get round, as we all claimed, it was clear from the off that Paul was determined not to see us for dust. I’d have been a bit pissed off about his burst of unbelievable speed from his under-graded front position if it wasn’t for the fact I was feeling seriously impressed that this was the car that I’d built. I stamped my foot into the floor. He wasn’t being that careful of his tyres. Relying on getting to the front quickly and staying there it seemed. Unluckily for him, it was a bit drizzly and then someone’s engine blew and a slic
k of oil spread out causing general mayhem, and a lap later, minor carnage. I’d managed not to get caught up in the pile, but to stay out of it I’d had to slow so much he’d nearly lapped me, and then the yellow flag came out. We all paraded slowly round and got into race position right behind each other. So although he’d put all that space between myself and him, now it was all eaten up by the yellow flag and I was just a few metres back with only two cars separating us when the green was waved again. I crept up till I was right behind. They’d had a bit of a go at clearing the oil, but I’d noticed there was still a really slippy patch in one place that they’d missed and my wheels momentarily lost purchase whenever I passed over it. I timed it really carefully. Really, really carefully. Waited till he was right on it. He didn’t have a chance. Pete gave him a quick extra hoof as he passed to keep him out of the running and I came in first and Pete third. Pete and I just about managed not to high five. We couldn’t give away that we were working together.

  “Actually,” I said to Jo later. “I’m wondering if I should haul back on some of these Qualifiers. I’m worried I’ll end up being placed on the grid ahead of your father at the Semi-Finals. And I really don’t want to end up ahead of him. I want to be able to see what he’s doing. I like sneaking up on him from behind…”

  “Too late to decide that now,” Jo pointed out prosaically. Positions relied on them totting up the scores of your best five Qualifier results and if I started to throw some now it wouldn’t make much difference as they’d still take the good ones I’d already got. “Just enjoy going all out for it every time you’re on the track with him. I bet he won’t be doing it again next year. This will probably be your only chance to prove yourself against him.”

  She was right. I just had get the most fun out of this season that I could. It wasn’t worth stressing over anything.

  Finally Ellie got her outing. The texts on Jessica’s phone had been getting steadily more threatening. I’d been logging them all. I had decided to never go along again to any of the addresses suggested as they would almost certainly be dangerously abusive situations. But I kept a log of the addresses. Cody rang me to say that she’d heard that Jessica and her mother had disappeared off the face of the earth and she’d gone round to her house and found a For Sale notice outside.

  “Good!” I said robustly.

  “Yes?” Cody said uncertainly.

  “Bout time they took her off out of harm’s way don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Cody agreed.

  “But you watch yourself, Cody,” I said suddenly. “Don’t you be going round to her house, or wandering around on your own. Stick with your brothers will you?”

  She was silent.

  “I don’t want to frighten you,” I said, “but they did threaten her that they’d take revenge on her friends and they’re going to be really mad when they find she’s got away from them…”

  “Ok,” she said.

  “Promise you’ll be careful?” I urged.

  “Ok,” she said.

  Now I sat cross legged in the drizzle on a low wall near the Lofthouse and waited. I hadn’t bothered to dress provocatively, apart from the essential shoes and I covered the identifying mark with a cardigan. The guy I was fishing for would recognise me instantly, and I didn’t want another team to pick me up. I held a brightly coloured umbrella over my head to attract attention. I had half expected to sit there all night with nowt happening, but after a mere ten minutes a green Cayman GTS hove into view, cruised along and stopped beside me. He got out and stood in front of me. “Thought they must have sent you to a new foster placement,” he said. “I haven’t seen you around for ages.” Then he smiled. “Do you want to come to a party?”

  “Ok,” I said, and slipped down off the wall. I stopped short when I saw two other guys in the back, but he jerked his head at the guy in the passenger seat and he got out and got into the back.

  “There you are Princess,” Ash smiled. “Front seat all to yourself.”

  I got in and put the seat belt on. We didn’t go far. None of the men in the car spoke, which seemed a bit unnatural and creepy. I got the impression they’d been mid-flow in some conversation when Ash had spotted me, that hadn’t been able to continue once I got in.

  We stopped outside a block of flats. Ash had the code and he took us all in. Several floors up we went into a very big flat, full of people. So it was a party then. I hadn’t known if he was just spinning me a line. The men were all Asian and all ages. The girls were all white and very young. I thought with a sudden sick lurch of the stomach, they’re right, Chetsi and Taib, when this gets out it’s going to tear this town apart.

  “Off you go,” Ash said, patting me on the bottom. “Go and have fun. I’ve got business to attend to.” And he went off into another room with the men from the car and a couple of others who’d glanced around as he walked in as though they’d been waiting for him.

  I looked around. This was my chance to record the faces of all the guys, and try to interview some of the girls. I walked slowly across the room and made sure I looked directly at every face I passed to try to capture them on camera. There were bottles of drink on a low table and lots of glasses. Some of the men were drinking, but not many. I sat down by a young looking girl on a settee.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m Ellie. I’m new.”

  She glanced at me and said nothing. How should I start? I didn’t want to waste time in pretend small-talk as I needed to capture as much evidence as I could.

  “Are you new too?”

  She shook her head.

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirteen,” she answered, seemingly despite herself.

  “I’m fourteen,” I said. “I’m in foster care.”

  That got a reaction. “God, I wish I was! I’m in a home! They send taxis for me and when I say I don’t want to go, they just tell me to get in!”

  I frowned. “When who sends taxis for you, who tells you to get in?”

  She looked at me as though I were dumb. “When this lot send taxis for me to the home, I tell the carers that I don’t want to go, and if that Paki bastard’s on shift, I get told to get in.”

  I stared at her. “You mean one of the staff is working with this lot?”

  “Must be,” she said bitterly.

  “But surely they do screening checks on the staff?” I exclaimed, utterly shocked.

  She shrugged. “Maybe he hasn’t got a record – yet,” she added. “You have to be caught and convicted to get a record you know…”

  I’d never thought about that. I flopped back against the settee cushions as I digested that. Ok, no time to waste on my own reactions. I tried to sound naïve. “So what do they ask you to do, this lot?”

  She shot me a glance. “You really are new, aren’t you?”

  I put a hand on her arm. “Please tell me.”

  She shook my hand off. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she said abruptly, got up sharply and walked away.

  Thirteen, I thought. That’s appalling. Then I remembered that I was only fourteen. Sick. Seriously sick. I kept staring round at the men’s faces. Trying to get every single one on camera. I wanted to approach another girl, but, and I wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or not, the men seemed to be keeping the girls away from each other. Chatting to them, feeling them up, plying them with drink and at least one I saw being handed some sort of pill, all of which I stared hard at to try and get footage, but I couldn’t see any other girls on their own.

  Ash sat down beside me. “It’s rude to stare,” he said. I wondered if he didn’t want me recognising anyone. He pulled me onto his lap, put his arms around me and pulled my head against his chest. For sure there’s someone here he doesn’t want me to get a good look at, I thought. He hasn’t got full control of me yet, so he has to be careful. I hope I got whichever one it was on camera. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” he suggested.

  I tensed. “I don’t want to sleep with you,” I said.

&n
bsp; He patted my knee. “Ok, not tonight then, but it’s noisy in here and we can talk better in one of the bedrooms…”

  He pushed me off his lap, took my wrist and took me through the nearest door which avoided us going across the room. I sure hope I got whoever it is in my footage, I thought. He’s definitely getting me out of the way.

  In the bedroom he didn’t lead me to the bed, which was a relief. Just sat down in an armchair and pulled me onto his lap again.

  “Can I see your belly?” He asked.

  “Why?” I said sharply. That was weird.

  He smiled. “I like girls’ bellies. They’re all soft and smooth. Is that ok?”

  I stared at him, then slowly I undid my cardigan and lifted up the blouse I had on underneath. He reached out and touched. I flinched away and he just laughed.

  “You’ve had your belly button pierced,” he said. He touched the bright blue stone that I hardly ever even noticed myself. I’d had it done so long ago, about the age I was now pretending to be. He stroked my stomach again. “That is a seriously white belly,” he observed.

  “It’s never seen the sun, I guess,” I answered. “Well maybe when I was pre-school running around in the garden…” I dropped my blouse down.

  He reached down and took my shoes off again. I wish they’d put the GPS locater in my earring, I thought uneasily. God this was creepy.

  He began to massage my foot. He did it with both hands.

  “How does that feel?” He asked with a smile.

  I blinked. “Amazing!” I answered honestly. No-one had ever massaged my feet. It felt so good. He picked up the other one and started to do that one. That felt just as good. And I felt really seriously guilty that I was enjoying it.

  “You can do mine later,” he suggested.

  I stared at his face.

  “Why are you staring?” He said.

  “You’ve been looking at my skin, now I’m looking at yours,” I said.

  He blinked. Then he said, “What do you see?”

  “Your skin is much paler than I imagined,” I said slowly. “I know some Indian people and they are quite dark in places.”