Lifting the Lid(74)

Trevor had had a vision of scores of heavily armed police officers in riot helmets descending on his camper van as soon as he turned the key in the ignition.

Get the hell away from this woman. She’s trouble. You really want to be cut up into little pieces by a bunch of psychopathic gangsters?

The image of his own disembodied head rocking gently from side to side in a pool of blood and surrounded by a variety of internal organs and severed limbs had made him feel decidedly unwell.

You’re the one who wanted an adventure. You’re the one who wanted to do something with your life. So you want to quit the moment things start turning a bit dodgy? What are you, a man or a mouse?

He had pictured himself in his black and orange Dreamhome Megastores uniform but with the addition of enormous whiskers and huge mouselike ears, nibbling on a lump of cheese whilst sweeping up an avalanche of broken plumbing accessories in Aisle Three.

Okay, so you think this Sandra woman’s attractive. So she reminds you a bit of Imelda. Get real, Trev. You seriously believe she might be interested in a loser like you? She worth getting killed for, is she?

Well of course she’s not worth getting killed for, he’d replied to himself, but I have to say that I strongly resent being referred to as a loser. After all, that’s one of the main reasons I set off on this trip in the first place – to prove to myself that that is precisely what I’m not.

‘Besides,’ he’d said aloud as if Sandra had been privy to his internal debate, ‘I’ve got a sister in Bristol.’

Even allowing for the fact that he hadn’t seen Janice since soon after Imelda’s disappearance more than eighteen months ago, Trevor had been well aware that the convenience of being able to call in on his younger sibling was hardly a valid reason for putting his life in danger. The decision hadn’t been simply about whether to carry on to Bristol or not. Staying in Sandra’s car instead of letting her drop him off meant that he would be committing himself to an encounter with whatever might be awaiting them in Flat 12, Cabot Tower.

When he had finally told Sandra he’d decided to go with her, she hadn’t seemed as surprised as he would have expected. Naturally, he’d been somewhat economical with the truth when she’d asked him his reasons, and the bit about being an ideal opportunity to visit his sister clearly hadn’t washed. Even so, despite her doubts about his motives, Trevor thought he’d detected the faint trace of a smile when he’d observed her reaction in profile. Perhaps she’d been secretly pleased that she wouldn’t be on her own if anything hit the fan. Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t be his own first choice as an ally if things got out of hand, but she’d have to admit that it was because of him she’d escaped the clutches of Harry Vincent – for the time being anyway.

Regardless of what her true feelings had been, the result was that they were now sitting in her car opposite a shabby block of flats, inside which they would soon discover the unknown object of their quest.

‘Flat Twelve, right?’

He pulled the two index cards from his jacket pocket and smoothed the worst of the creases against his thigh before reading out the address. ‘Flat Twelve, Cabot Tower, Milton Street.’

‘Might as well get on with it then,’ said Sandra, unfastening her seatbelt.

Trevor wound up his window, and Milly withdrew her snout just in time to avoid it being trapped between the glass and the top of the frame.

‘I suppose we’d better leave her here,’ he said, remembering that Milly was well overdue for a pee and turning round in his seat to clip a lead to her collar.

‘She can guard the car,’ said Sandra. ‘At least then it might still be here when we get back.’

Her use of the word “when” rather than “if” struck Trevor as encouragingly positive, and he hoped her optimism didn’t turn out to be misplaced. He opened the door, and Milly hurtled across his lap and down onto the street. It was as much as he could do to keep hold of the lead and stop himself from being dragged headlong out of the car. He shouted at her and pulled back on the lead, but Milly was far too intent on investigating the nearest pile of busted rubbish sacks to take any notice.

The lead went slack as soon as they got there, and Trevor stood patiently as the dog began a detailed examination of the rotting debris in search of anything edible. While he waited, he watched Sandra go to the back of the car and open the tailgate. She leaned inside and then re-emerged a few seconds later. Slamming the tailgate shut, she sauntered over to him and held out her hand. Lying flat on her palm was a gun.

‘You ever used one of these?’ she said.