The voice caught him by surprise. He didn’t think anyone else was out here. He’d been sitting in a quiet corner where he could see the helicopter, not wanting to stray too far in case Cooper and the others upped and left without him.
“Lorna?”
He got up and walked over to her. It was getting dark, and he followed the noise her boots made crunching through the gravel. When he saw her he grabbed hold of her and held her tight. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. She led him over toward the row of caravans and sat down with him on a pile of discarded wooden pallets. In the light coming from the window of the nearest caravan, he thought she looked tired, old even. Her face appeared angular and stark in the gloom and her hair was scraped back. She looked pensive, and it was out of character from the Lorna he remembered. Previously she’d always seemed relaxed and comfortable in herself, regardless of how bad everything else was around her.
“I looked for you earlier,” Harte said. “You okay?”
“Fine,” she replied, sounding less than convinced. “I was working. I’m on my break right now.”
“On your break? From what?”
“Cooking rota.”
“You on a cooking rota! Bloody hell, Lor!”
“It’s not funny.”
“I didn’t say it was. Just a surprise, that’s all.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So Jackson’s cracking the whip around here now is he?”
“Jackson and Jas. I swear, they’re like a double act sometimes.”
“Good cop, bad cop.”
“Bad cop, worse cop.”
“Well, all that might be about to change. You’ve heard about the island.”
“I’ve heard rumblings. You don’t tend to hear much news in the kitchen, not that there’s usually any news to hear.”
“Are things really that bad?”
“No, I’m making it sound worse than it is. But I can see things going downhill if we’re not careful. The fewer people there are left, the more narrow-minded some of them seem to be becoming. I swear, it’s like we’ve gone back fifty years. Sexual equality and all that stuff’s a thing of the past now.”
“It must be grim if they’ve got you cooking.”
“Cheeky bastard. You’re right, though. Us ladies are politely excused from doing anything physical or even remotely dangerous. Most of them are happy with that because they’re old maids like Caron, Sue, and Shirley. Zoe’s a stubborn bugger who just locks herself in her caravan and refuses to come out unless it suits her…”
“So most of the work is down to you.”
“Pretty much.”
“What about Melanie? She still here?”
“Oh, she’s here all right. Dirty bitch.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“Is it? Dirty cow’s just a communal fuck-buddy. Whenever she wants anything she just flashes her tits and flutters her eyelids at one of the blokes and they cover for her.”
“You could try that.”
“You could fuck off! I’ve got more self-respect. Anyway, I’d destroy the piss-poor men here. I’d eat you alive for starters.”
“Look, I’m not arguing. I know you would!” He paused, then asked her if she was going to leave for the island.
“I’m planning to,” she answered quietly. “I don’t like the way things are going here.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“Ah, it’s just all the usual bollocks you get when there are too many dumb blokes stuck in the same place together with limited options. They stop thinking sensibly and spend all their time playing bloody stupid mind games with each other.”
“Jas and Jackson?”
“Jackson tries to keep Jas in check, but from where I’m sitting it looks like Jas is the one with more influence these days. You’ve heard about Howard, haven’t you?”
“I haven’t heard anything. Haven’t seen much of him, come to that. I tried to talk to him earlier, but he was in a right fucking foul mood.”
“He lost his dog last week.”
“Shit. What happened? Did it get sick or…?”
“Mark Ainsworth happened. Apparently Jas had said something to him about Dog using up food which was meant for us. So Ainsworth threw the dog out. Middle of the night he just opened the gates and kicked the poor little bastard out. Howard was in bits, and they wouldn’t let him out to look for her.”
“Fuck me.”
“And that’s not the worst of it.”
“There’s worse?”
“Hollis.”
“Yeah, where is he? I was looking for him…”
“Gone,” she said, sounding subdued.
“Gone where?”
“No idehey kicked him out too.”
“Why?”
“Were you here when he had that accident?”
“The shit pit? When he busted Steve Morecombe’s arm up? That’s a point, I haven’t seen Steve either.”
“You wouldn’t have. He’s dead.”
“Dead? How?”
“How d’you think? His broken arm got infected. Sue’s supposed to be a nurse, but if you need anything more than a fucking headache tablet, she’s next to useless. I swear, it was like when Ellie and Anita died. All we could do was watch the poor sod fade away. Happened last week. Fucking horrible, it was.”
“But Hollis … it was just an accident. It wasn’t like he meant to do it.”
“I know, but you know what he’s like. He takes it all so personally. The toilets hadn’t been emptied, so he went back again to sort them out. Jas caught him on the digger and they ended up fighting. He practically threw him out. He gave him a choice—spend all his time in his caravan, virtually under lock and key, or leave. So he walked.”
“Fuck…”
“To be honest, I think Hollis was happy to go. And have you seen the state of the shit pit since you’ve been back?”
“I went to use it earlier but couldn’t face it. The stink was terrible. Found a quiet bit of wall and took a piss up that instead.”
“Exactly. The toilets are overflowing, the pit reeks, there’s flies everywhere … Hollis was the only one who kept on top of the waste, so to speak. Now he’s gone, no one else is willing to get their hands dirty. Jas has just shot himself in the foot. Well, all of us, really. I swear, Harte, it’s getting to be like the Dark Ages here.”
“Everything all right?” a voice asked from behind them, startling them both. Harte spun around. He couldn’t immediately see who it was, but Lorna knew straightaway. It was Mark Ainsworth.
“Have you met my stalker?” she whispered before raising her voice to answer Ainsworth. “We’re fine, thanks. Just catching up on a little gossip.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Just be careful what you’re gossiping about, right?”
“Will do. Thanks, Mark.”
Harte listened carefully until he was sure that Ainsworth had gone again.
“What’s his problem?” he whispered.
“Where do I start? Auilty conscience, for one thing. That and the fact he’s probably jealous.”
“Jealous of what?”
“Us talking. He’s taken quite a shine to me, unfortunately. He’s setting his sights a little higher than a quick fumble around the back of a caravan with Melanie now.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
“You’ve changed, Lor. When I first met you, you’d have eaten blokes like Mark Ainsworth for breakfast. Christ, I remember how you used to run rings around Webb and the others back at the flats.”
“I’m still the same,” she said quietly, “it’s the situation that’s changed. I’m keeping the blokes sweet while I have to, that’s all. I’ll do their cooking and a little bit of cleaning and I might even flutter my eyelids at them when it suits, but if they fuck around with me or overstep the mark, I’ll break their balls.”
“I don’t doubt you. I’m not going to argue.”