She took stock of the place and then started showing the photograph around, asking people if they had seen Talia. Beth started with the goth/emo crowd and got negatives. She was pretty sure some of them were lying because they didn’t want to get involved but she wasn’t going to push it yet.
Eventually she spoke to someone who at least admitted to having seen her. This led to Beth cornering another girl in the bathroom. Beth had put a leather-clad arm in the girl’s way and asked her to look closely at the picture. The frightened girl had tried to bluster her way out of it, but Beth had just stared at her. Finally she had given her a name. Jaime. Beth had got her to describe this Jaime. He was in tonight. He was here every night. Where was he sitting? How many people were with him? Finally she’d let the girl go.
Beth found him quickly. She had intended watching him for a bit before going to speak to him. He had a narrow pockmarked face, long lank hair pulled back into a ponytail. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She reckoned he was a bit older than the majority of those in the pub, probably of an age with her. He was at a table with a couple of cronies and several girls a few years younger. He had minor-league dealer written all over him.
Beth sighed when he saw the girl from the toilet rush over to Jaime and point at her. He said something harsh to her and the girl backed away. Then he looked over at Beth. She sighed and headed over to his table. He glared at her all the way over.
‘You looking for me?’ he shouted over the din of the music and people talking. Beth nodded and showed him the picture.
‘You know her.’ She made sure that it didn’t sound like a question. Jaime barely glanced at it.
‘She’s dead,’ he told her. Nice, Beth thought. People were starting to listen now. One of the girls at the table, a pretty young goth who had the look of a nice middle-class girl slumming – Beth knew the type – was trying very hard not to look at the photo.
‘I know. I’m her sister.’
‘So?’ She was getting hard stares from the two guys with Jaime.
‘Look, I’m just trying to find out about her. Speak to someone who knew her. It’s been a long time.’
‘Bit late now, isn’t it? Should’ve picked up the phone.’
‘I’ve been away,’ she told him evenly, hoping he got the message. He did, and looked at her with renewed interest, maybe a bit more caution.
‘That supposed to impress me?’
‘I’m not trying to impress you. Look, if not you then point me in the direction of one of her friends, and I’ll get out of your hair.’ As she said ‘friends’ one of Jaime’s cronies, an ugly skinhead with blue biro tattoos, glanced over at the girl. Beth tried not to let on that she’d noticed.
‘Why don’t we go and talk about this outside? A bit quieter. Hear ourselves think, like. Delicate stuff this.’ Suddenly he was all smiles. Here we go. Beth sighed.
They’d come out of the pub and headed down towards the sea but turned off into a parking bay underneath some flats. Beth couldn’t help but think that the little block of flats looked like a nice place to live. She couldn’t even be bothered to ask Jaime why he needed his two mates for their private little chat. Reaching into a pocket she turned to face the three of them. As she did, he was on her, grabbing her leather jacket and slamming her against the wall. Something about it made her think that he was used to trying to intimidate women – there was a rehearsed familiarity to his actions.
‘You’re one ugly—’ he managed to get out. There wasn’t much power in the headbutt but she’d placed it correctly and nobody likes getting hit in the nose. Jaime grabbed his nose instinctively. Beth pushed him back to give herself room and kicked him in the knee, hard. There was a crack and he screamed and went down. The ugly skinhead moved faster than the guy in the shell suit. He grabbed for her, but his momentum brought him onto Beth’s hook. His nose exploded and he staggered back holding his face. The brass knuckles came away bloody. She hit him again, a fast jab to the side of the head just to discourage him from any more involvement. He sat down hard on the ground.
The click of the switchblade opening was unmistakable. Beth turned to look at the guy in the shell suit. Jaime tried getting up. Beth helped him back to the ground with the sole of her boot. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a blade pulled on her. Most of the time it was just a threat. Shell suit looked like it was just a threat, like he was used to showing people the blade and getting what he wanted. Problem was, it could be difficult to be sure.
‘Come on then,’ she said and gave him the hard stare. Even if he went for her she was pretty sure she could take him. He looked like a long streak of piss to Beth.
Shell suit looked at skinhead and Jaime and started backing away. If he left there was always the chance he’d come back with friends, but she didn’t think he would tell anyone. When you’re a guy you don’t expect to see your mates knocked down by a girl, particularly if you think you’re a hard man.
Beth had to smile as he turned and tried to walk away casually. She turned back to the other two. Skinhead was trying to get up. His eyes couldn’t focus. Beth was a little worried that she had hit him too hard but didn’t think he would bother her any time soon.
‘You fucking ugly bi—’ Jaime started. Beth kicked him in the ribs, very hard.
On the doors she remembered working with another bouncer called Thomas, who had been a member of the infamous Derby Lunatic Fighters football firm in the early 80s. He had once told her that if you wanted to know something and someone wouldn’t tell you, then all you had to do was let the tip of your knife touch the lens of their eye. You had to be very careful not to puncture it, though Thomas had been of the opinion that scratching it was okay. That way, every time they opened their eyes they’d think of you.
The Balisong knife opened easily in her hand as she knelt down by Jaime. He tried to get up so Beth punched him in the ribs, the same place she had kicked him. He yelled and she grabbed his face. Seeing the blade of the knife heading towards one of his eyes, Jaime closed them.
‘Open your fucking eye or I’ll put it out,’ she snapped. He seemed to believe her. Resting the tip of the blade against the lens of the eye was harder than Thomas had led her to believe. He kept blinking, but she was pretty sure that he got the point.
‘Stop being a prick and tell me about my sister,’ she demanded.
‘What do you want to know?’ he asked desperately. That stopped her. What did she want to know? What she had been doing for six years? Had she grown up? Was she happy? Or was she still destructive and miserable? What was it about Beth that Talia had hated so much when all she had wanted was to be her older sister?
‘What happened to her?’ she asked.
‘We don’t know,’ he finally managed. ‘Nobody does. Some kind of terrorist bomb, but there’s nothing in the papers. What, you don’t think that I…’
Beth took the blade away from his eye and sat down on the ground. What the fuck am I doing? she asked herself. This was a good way to get put back in prison.
‘What was she to you?’ she finally asked. ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ she added.
‘We saw each other for a while, you know?’
Yep, you’re just about a big enough sleazebag for her to be interested in you.
‘But she was just using me, you know? Because I had gear and she liked it.’
She hadn’t changed, Beth thought.
Jaime had been in love with her, he said. Beth felt more embarrassed than anything else when he started crying. ‘I miss her, I really miss her,’ he wailed.