‘Killing her won’t help, will it, eh?’ I couldn’t believe Zeb was pleading for my life. ‘It’ll make it worse.’
‘I’m not doing it. You are.’
‘No way. You’re mad, guy.’
‘You run her over.’
‘Shit!’ He shook his head, backing away, ‘They’ll trace the car, anyway.’
‘Torch it, report it missing. Joyriders.’ Siddiq took the keys from Zeb and dragged me round to the boot. ‘They knocked her down, reversed over her. Freaked out and torched the car.’ He opened the boot, got out the spare petrol can.
‘And how did she get here? Her car’s in friggin’ Old Trafford. Use your brain. This is mental. I’m not doing it, I don’t want any part of it. You’ve lost the fucking plot, man.’
‘You are part of it, you wanker. You’re pushing so much up your nose your brain’s melting. If it wasn’t for you, none of this would have happened. None of it!’ he bawled. His grip on my arm was so hard my fingers were going numb.
‘I know that. You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t think about that? It was my cousin,’ Zeb was losing his temper, too, waving his arms as he ranted. ‘But you should have known. Hell, Rashid, you work with me and don’t give me that crap about the jacket. You need your bloody eyes examining. You cocked it up, Rashid – not me, not Jay, not Mohammed – you! Jay should have dumped you then; I should have dumped you. I couldn’t believe it, you killed my cousin and then you tell me it should have been me! Like it’s my fault! Bloody ‘ell, man.’
He shook his head, still incredulous at it after all this time. ‘You’re telling me my darling brother’s ordered my doing over, ‘cos I’ve overstretched the bank, and you’re telling me you’ve killed my cousin by mistake and you’re asking, begging me for help. Threatening to grass us up if I say anything. I still can’t believe I did it, but I helped you out, Rashid. Don’t you forget that, man. I got Luke.’
‘Oh, yeah? You didn’t give a fuck for your cousin; you don’t have no honour, Rangzeb, none. All you care about is snorting it up your nose and saving your arse.’
‘I lied for you. I set Wallace up for you and you, you just pull us all deeper in the shit…’
‘Shut it,’ his rage distorted the words.
‘They’ll know you done Joey D now. They’re soon gonna suss that.’
‘It was an overdose,’ I blurted out in surprise.
‘Oh, yeah? And how come he gets pure smack? Little gift Rashid arranges to come his way once he’s tracked him down in Chester.’
Oh no. I felt sudden tears and sniffed them back.
‘He wouldn’t have taken stuff from any of you. He was petrified,’ I protested.
‘He didn’t know who sent it, someone else made the delivery,’ Zeb said scornfully. ‘And now you want to do her. It’s not my head that’s in a mess, Rashid. You’re a fucking psycho. I’m out of here.’ He wheeled and stalked off.
Rashid lifted me up and threw me into the boot, as if I was a child. He slammed the lid down. It didn’t catch. In the gloom I could see the line of light begin to stretch. I reached out and grabbed it, held it down, my fingertips clinging to a ridge of metal along the edge. It was instinct: a chance to escape. The boot must have looked all right to Rashid. My heart was pounding. I wriggled round trying to get in a good position for climbing out.
I could hear footsteps grating on the tarmac. Grunts and a shout. It sounded as though they were some way from the car.
Cautiously I inched the boot open. It creaked and I flinched, expecting a response but nothing happened. I clambered out, keeping as low as I could. Knelt on the tarmac and pulled the boot shut. I rolled on the ground at the side of the car and looked underneath the chassis and across the car park.
I could see Rashid beating Zeb. Zeb was still on his feet though his arms cradled his head. Bile rose in my throat; I spat some out. My mouth was sour, my throat parched. I wanted to go and stop the fight. It tore me up to see this, one man staggering as the blows rained on him, the other dazzled by violence and his power to inflict pain. No matter how many times I watched this scene played out, I would never be immune to the anguish it called up in me, the distress and despair. There’d been so much blood, too much blood already.
But I knew I had to think only of survival now. If I headed for the cinema I’d have to cover most of the car park and be visible to Rashid. The alternative was to clamber up the grassy hump, over the low wooden railing at the top and down to the side road. It would probably be deserted. I couldn’t rely on flagging a car down to help me, but there might be somewhere to hide.
On hands and knees I scaled the hill. Even at this distance I could hear Rashid’s heavy breathing and Zeb coughing. As I reached the railing, Siddiq roared; oh, Christ, he’d spotted me! He began to run my way. Heart thudding, I reached the pavement Opposite was the Belle Vue Speedway, where they have the greyhound racing. To my left was the Belle Vue Road junction. I began to run that way. I could hear myself gasping, little pleas on my breath. No, no, please. Please, don’t hurt me. Just like that time before. Did Siddiq have a knife? No, no, he didn’t. He’d used Joey’s on Ahktar, hadn’t he?
Someone would help me, surely. I remembered the case of the schoolgirl assaulted on the train full of passengers. Pleading for help, she was, and they all just sat there.
There was a roaring sound. He was using the car. He couldn’t – he’d never get through that barrier. I heard him revving it up. I ran, my nose burning with pain as my feet pounded on the pavement. There was a roar again, a screech and then a splintering sound. I looked back. He’d got the car up the hillock and had torn partway through the railing. A piece of it was caught fast in the front bumper, the other end of it still attached to an upright stake in the ground. One of the headlights was smashed. He gunned the car again and the tearing continued. The wood ripped and split and he was through. He ran it down the slope at my side and spun round to follow me. He accelerated fast. He was going to run me over.
I darted to the other side of the road. I think I had some daft hope that although he was trying to kill me, he wouldn’t break the law by driving on the wrong side of the road. Daft, like I say. He simply followed me.
I tried to go faster, waiting in my mind for the impact as he crushed my legs before I buckled and. fell under the car. I glanced behind; he was getting close. I. thought I could just make it. I launched myself back across the road. I misjudged it and the offside corner of the car clipped my hip, spinning me round and slamming me against the ground. I continued to roll, hit the far kerb and scrambled to my feet. Pain rippled through me and my vision blurred. Go on, I urged myself. Go on! I can’t, a weak voice whined somewhere. I can’t. It hurts.
My memory dived back to the day I’d had Maddie. Blood then too, and the sensation of being ripped apart, wild with pain. Maddie. I whispered her name. Caught the smell of her child’s breath.
Siddiq swung the car back my way again. I couldn’t run but I could move. I crossed back, moaning at the pain in my side and down my thigh. I didn’t want to die, not like this. I didn’t want to die at all, but to be run to ground by a car, killed on the road, breathing my last on greasy wet tarmac…No, I wouldn’t let him. ‘No,’ I said it aloud, repeated it in rhythm as I lurched along, ‘no, no, no.’
There was a row of bollards along the edge of the pavement, parallel to the concrete walls of the Speedway. In a couple of places there were gaps where big metal gates were installed. I made for the bollards, got myself past them and over the broad pavement to the concrete wall. Suddenly, thankfully, I heard another car coming. I inched forwards and waved my arms wildly. It went sailing past.
I waited. He was coming back, down my side of the road. He couldn’t get through the bollards here, but a hundred feet on, by the double gates, he turned the car through the gap and pointed it to face me. He had a clear run at me now, down the wide pathway. I stumbled back onto the road, putting the bollards between us again.