Suckers

Alicia peeped out over the chain. Her face was the colour of flour and there were dark smudges around her eyes. She looked rather like the somnambulist in The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, only not as well dressed: she was still wearing her Mona Lisa T-shirt and dance tights and grubby dressing-gown. Poor Alicia. First Roxy, and now this. I felt sorry for her.

'Dora,' she said in a flat voice. 'What do you want?'

'I've come to help,' I said in my best soothing voice.

'I don't need help.' Her speech was thick and furry, as though she'd been drinking.

'Come on, let me in.'

She mumbled something I didn't catch. I lost patience and drew out the wirecutters. She looked on uncomprehendingly as the chain fell apart. 'What are you doing?' she asked. I stepped in, shutting the door behind me, and her eyes widened as she spotted the raincoat. 'That's Lulu's.'

'There now,' I said, advancing into the living room. 'That's better.' She was still backing away, trying to fend me off with her skinny forearms, trying to make me disappear. As though I was the vampire. I glanced at my watch. It had stopped again, at a few minutes to six. 'What time do you make it?' I asked. She swivelled to consult the clock on the wall, but I had seen past her shoulder already. It was half-past.

'Half-past six,' she said, turning round to face me again, which was when I shoved her off balance. She crumpled against the table and banged the back of her head, and slithered down until she was sitting on the floor with a puzzled look on her face. 'Dora?' she said. 'I can't see. Where are you?'

'I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this,' I said. And it did turn out to be even more difficult than Gunter and Christine, because I couldn't help remembering all the times Alicia had invited me to dinner, and so it didn't seem like squishing greenfly at all, not this time. I even found myself sniffling a bit, which took me by surprise because I'd never considered myself sentimental. I wished I'd brought Duncan round with me — he would have got on with it without snivelling. Duncan was a natural.

Alicia watched disinterestedly as I positioned the point of the dowelling on the left eye of the Mona Lisa. I hammered it in as gently as I could, apologizing as I did so. 'Whoops, sorry,' I said. 'Sorry Alicia.' There was a soft squelching as the sharpened end sank in, and the Mona Lisa cried real tears of blood. By the time I'd finished, she wasn't smiling any more, and neither was Alicia. She was still looking at me, though, watching as I attempted to clear up some of the mess. I closed her eyelids as best I could.

I turned to go, but then Abigail started to whine. Conscience prevented me from leaving a little orphan vampire on its own, unable to fend for itself when the whole world was about to erupt. The dowelling was too big, but I found the perfect substitute: one of Alicia's wooden knitting needles. I felt guiltier about dropping all those stitches than I did about turning the little nipper into shish-kebab, but then, I was doing it a favour. The baby teeth gnashed uselessly as its travesty of a life fled skywards with a tiny wheeze.

I arranged mother and daughter on the floor and pulled the curtains back. There wasn't even a wisp of steam, but the sky was already dark. The dawn would finish them off, even if Rotnacht didn't, but I tried to fix Alicia's hair so it didn't look quite so stringy, then sat down and had a cigarette. At least there was no longer anyone to complain about smoke polluting the baby's airspace. By the time I'd smoked two or three, and snorted the rest of the sulphate, I felt a whole lot better, not wobbly at all. I took off the raincoat, folded it up and slipped it into my bag. There hadn't been so much mess with these two. The baby had hardly bled at all, simply caved in like a dry meringue. My chief regret was that Jack wasn't around. It would have been neater to have nobbled the entire family in one swoop. I went downstairs slowly. I had all the time in the world, even though the sun had set, even though my watch had stopped and the limo would be arriving at Duncan's in less than an hour. There was nothing more to be done here. And by morning, we would be hundreds of miles away, in Paris.

I decided I was ready to face him now.

Chapter 6

There seemed to be rather a lot of noise coming from the direction of Ladbroke Grove, so after I'd rung Duncan's doorbell, I had to press my ear right up against the entryphone. At first, there was nothing to hear. Then, at long last, an electronic crackle, followed by Duncan's voice. 'Hello?'

'It's me.'

I waited and waited, but nothing happened, so I pressed the buzzer again. 'Well, aren't you going to ask me in?'

There was a mild spluttering from the entryphone. 'I wasn't expecting you. You said you'd ring.'

'I didn't get a chance. Things have been rather hectic.'

Again, silence. I tapped my foot edgily on the doorstep, casting glances back along the street. There was no one behind me, but I could still hear shouting, and it seemed to be getting closer. After a while, I pressed the buzzer again, long and hard, several times.

'Look,' I said, 'I don't feel safe out here.'

'OK, you can come up for a quick drink.' He sounded pissed off. 'But you can't stay.'

Nothing like a warm welcome, I thought. He buzzed the door open and I started up the stairs. 'Why can't I stay?' I asked as he let me into the flat.

'Because I'm busy, Dora,' he said. 'I told you yesterday, I have work to do.'

I took a good look around. The blinds were drawn and the room lit only by the flickering light from the television. As far as I could make out, he'd been doing two things before I arrived — drinking, and watching TV. 'Ah yes,' I observed. 'I can see you've been working really hard. Just like on Saturday.'

'I was watching the news,' he said, turning off the TV and switching on the table-lamp. 'There's some sort of riot in Tottenham.'

'So what's new,' I said.

His expression didn't change. I was about to say I thought there was something going on in Ladbroke Grove, when he added, 'There's a riot in Dulwich as well.'

'Dulwich?'

He opened the whisky. 'Don't ask me what's going on. Like I said, one drink and out you go.'

I planted myself on the sofa. 'Who are you expecting?'

'No one.'

'Then come with me to Paris.'

He laughed awkwardly. 'You've got Paris on the brain. I don't suppose it occurred to you there might be things I have to take care of here.'

I stuck my chin out. 'So what are you waiting for? Throw another glass at me.'

He looked remorseful. 'Sorry about that. I guess I was still upset. About Lu and everything.'

'You and your temper, always taking it out on us girls. Promise you won't lose it again.'

'Cross my heart,' he said, handing me a measure of whisky which barely covered the bottom of the glass.

I swirled it around, but it still looked inadequate. 'Not even if I say something I shouldn't,' I said.

'Something you shouldn't?' He frowned. 'Like what?'

I drained the whisky in two small gulps and held the glass out for a refill. He poured another shot without thinking, and I said, 'There are certain things I think you might have told me.'

His manner, all of a sudden, was icy. 'Oh yes?'

I took a deep breath. 'But come to Paris and I won't even ask, because then it won't matter. I've got the tickets, I've got the money, all you need is your passport. There's a car coming at eight.'