The Elephant Girl(99)

Clutching her things, Helen watched Moody drive off, slowly, because she was no danger to him. He didn’t expect her to go against him.

‘Arsehole,’ she muttered.

Still shaking, she crossed the road and let herself in. Leaning against the front door, she drew comfort from the dry rot-infested wood.

She let out a breath, realising only then she’d been holding it in. Moody had presented her with an ultimatum, but she supposed she had a couple of choices. She could either isolate herself as she’d always done, or she could drum up the support of her friends.

Friends. She savoured the word on her tongue. She would do that, and if Charlie had a hissy fit and continued to avoid her, she would apologise. If Moody thought she was a forlorn and shrinking violet, he could think again.

Easier said than done. The house was deserted. No lights from Jason’s basement flat, none in the kitchen, and the door to Fay’s room was gaping wide, her empty walls a reminder of what Helen had done, of the damage lies could do.

No milk in the kitchen for a decent cup of tea was the last straw, and she slammed the fridge shut again.

‘Damn!’

A scuffing noise from the garden doors sent her heart leaping into her throat, and her pulse throbbed loudly in her ears. The blood left her face. She went cold, then hot again. Quickly she switched off the light and tiptoed over to peer out by the side of the threadbare curtains which someone must have closed earlier.

There was nothing to see except one of Fay’s cats on the shed roof, but she wasn’t sure what she’d expected anyway. Jason’s father had said what he came to say, and the man Helen had spotted in the alleyway could have been a neighbour if it hadn’t been one of Moody’s goons. Sneaking around the back of people’s houses didn’t seem quite his style anyway.

She let the curtain drop and poured a glass of water in place of tea. Her throat was dry and on fire, and her head still ached. Reaching for the kitchen door handle, she noticed her hand was still shaking, and a sick feeling curled inside her.

‘To hell with you,’ she muttered. Jason’s bastard dad might have won the first round, but she was damned if he was going to intimidate her forever.

Her courage left her at the sound of a key in the door. Without rationalising it, she looked around for a place to hide, found it in the shape of an old coat on a peg by the basement stairs, and slid in behind it. She heard footsteps approaching and the rustling of a plastic bag but stayed where she was.

The coat had a musty odour with a hint of old man’s sweat, and she tried to block her nose against the smells. Something tickled her on the side of her face, and she flicked at it with her hand. When she discovered the source of the tickling, a large house spider, she shrieked, burst out from behind the coat, and ran headlong into Jason.

‘Jesus Christ!’ he groaned. ‘What are you doing? You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘Sorry. It was a spider.’

She picked up her rucksack and the folder she’d dropped when she knocked into him. Some of the pages had come free of the binding and were spread all over the floor. Jason handed them to her.

‘A spider?’ he grinned. ‘What are you, man or mouse?’

‘Neither. Where’ve you been anyway? I was looking for you.’

‘We were out of milk.’ He held up a blue plastic bag from the corner shop. ‘Why were you looking for me?’

No more secrets, she thought. ‘Because your father’s just told me this town isn’t big enough for both of us.’

‘What?’

‘He told me to stay away from you.’

‘He doesn’t own me.’

‘Maybe not, but he’s pretty scary.’

Jason laughed. ‘He’s a crook, he’s supposed to be. Don’t listen to that old goat. He’s just blustering. He wouldn’t harm you.’

Involuntarily her hand went to her windpipe. She remembered Jones’s grip, and Moody’s indifference to her terror. ‘How can you be sure?’

With a frown, Jason moved her hand. ‘What’s this? You have a massive bruise on your neck.’

‘That was the “old goat”. Well, his man Jones, actually.’

‘Jones did this?’

She nodded.

‘The bastard!’ He whipped his phone out of his pocket and began to dial, but Helen stopped him.

‘Please, just leave it be. I don’t want any more trouble.’

He scowled furiously for a moment, then he sighed. ‘Oh, man. I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

‘He’s only doing this because he knows I like you.’ He touched a finger to her cheek. ‘Look, I know how upsetting it must be for you, with Fay running off just when you had the chance to really talk to her. And now this with my dad as well, but I promise you Fay will come back. And I’ll tell my dad to back off. He’ll listen to me.’