CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FIFTY

MOONA POV

If I had any credit left on my mobile I’d consider calling ahead, but I don’t. It’ll be a risk showing up there without something to give him, but Amie hasn’t left any cash around for weeks now. I’ll have to turn up emptyhanded and there’s fuck all I can do about that unless I take to breaking and entering before the morning’s out.

  I dip into the public toilets on the way through town to fill up my bottle.

      It’s still early and I’ve hardly slept. My face looks pale and drawn and my eyes look sunken. My hair is a crazy mess and looks little better for me running my fingers through it. It’ll have to do as it is.

      I try to keep my spirits up as I set off. I’m going to take a route across the countryside, so at least there’s that to look forward to. I conjure up crazy fantasies as I walk, imagining that I’ll run into a travelling community with traditional wagons. Maybe one of them will be a distant relative and there could be a big happy reunion. Maybe they’ll cry and say they’ve been looking for me my whole life. Maybe they have dogs, too. They’ll surely have dogs, and horses.

      I’m happily lost in the fantasy as I stumble upon Brian’s apartment block. I hold my breath as I pass the entrance to his car park, and all thoughts of my long-lost traveller family disappear at the prospect I could knock on his door for real and ask if he really can help me after all.

      My heart will almost let me. Almost.

I’m almost at the rear door of his block when I think better of it.

He’ll just take me back to Nick and Amie’s.

      Once I realise that cold fact, it’s easy to turn away, even though I don’t want to.

      It’s only when I’m on my way out again that I register there’s no sign of his old blue Ford. I guess he didn’t come home last night, and I don’t know why I feel so miserable at the thought of him being with a girlfriend somewhere, but it quickens my pace as I power on.

 Of course he has a girlfriend, why wouldn’t he?

  He’s old. Older than me. He must be at least forty, and that means he could be married or anything for all I know.

Maybe he laughs about me with her. 

Maybe he tells her I’m just a fucking nightmare, and a vicious little bitch. 

Maybe that’s why he was always so cool and calm when I asked him disgusting questions in his office.

 Most people hate that, it makes them uncomfortable. Nick left the house and slammed the door behind him when I told him I knew he wanted to lick my pussy, but not Brian.

      Maybe Brian doesn’t give two fucks about my pussy, because he’s riding some gorgeous bitch of his own every fucking night after work.

 What nobody gets is that this crap is all talk with me.

      I’ve messed about with guys, but nothing serious. I’ve had boyfriends, but they were only stupid young pricks who didn’t mean anything.

  I’ve not been anywhere near an actual man, and I nearly crapped myself the one time Nick finally did answer my question and told me that yes, he did want to lick my pussy. He hated me even more after I laughed in his face and told him I was gonna tell Amie and call the cops.

      I didn’t do either, but that didn’t matter to him. He’s been gunning for me ever since.

My phone starts bleeping in my backpack when I’m a couple of miles outside Lydney. One incoming call and then silence. I check out the handset and find the voicemail icon, but I haven’t got enough credit to listen.

  It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m on my own now, on the road and happy about it. I’ll only stay with Raul a short while, just enough time to try to earn a bit of cash and find a way to join some travellers somewhere.

      He always promised we could go together one day, but over the past few years – since he’s been dealing drugs – I don’t think he has any intention of really coming with me. He never says he gives a shit about me anymore either.

 I wonder if it was always all just a load of empty words. Promises made out of thin air meaning sweet fuck all.

      I have to double up on socks by lunchtime, and my belly is rumbling worse than ever. I pick some blackberries from a hedge but they don’t do shit to stop the hunger. My water runs out not long after and fuck knows where I’m going to find another tap to fill it back up. I consider knocking on someone’s door and asking to borrow their bathroom, but I’m too worried they’ll call the cops on me.

      By the time I reach the outskirts of Gloucester my feet are so blistered I’m limping. My shoulders are aching from my backpack and my lips are dry as fucking paper.

      My mind is so numb that all I can do is count my steps to keep on walking.

      One. Two. Three.

      Twenty-nine.

      Thirty.

      On and on and on until I'm well into the city.

 I drop my backpack to the floor when I finally get to Raul’s. I hammer his door with all the strength I have left in my hands, and even then it takes him a minute to open it.

     

He used to be pleased to see me, but not anymore.

 He leans out and looks behind me, checking for other people – like I’ve never brought anyone along to this shithole with me.

      “What are you doing here?” he asks, like my backpack doesn’t speak for itself.

      “I left,” I grunt. “Gonna let me stay or what?”

      He takes a drag on his skinny roll-up and I hold up my fingers for him to give it to me, but he doesn’t. “Bring any cash?”

 I knew this was coming, and I knew I’d feel like crap to say no. I shake my head. “Amie’s been careful. She even hides the chocolate now.”

 He laughs and I’m not sure it’s not at my expense. “Stupid bitch.”

 I wonder if he’s talking about her or me. Maybe both of us.

      “Can I stay then or what?”

      He smirks. “Or what?”

 I fold my arms. “I don’t fucking need you, Raul. I’m here because I want to be, not because I’m fucking desperate. I can take care of myself.”

 “You can’t take care of yourself enough to outsmart that snooty fucking bitch and bring me some fucking cash though, can you? How are you gonna pay your way?”

      I shrug. “I don’t need her cash, I’ll make my own.”

 “Oh yeah? You're gonna be earning your keep?”

 I nod. Grit my teeth. “I’ll pull my weight.”

 I stare at him, taking in the tattoos on his neck, the buzz of close cropped hair on his scalp. The way he could be such a looker if he wasn’t always so filthy and scruffy.

  I bet they say the same about me.

  “Alright,” he says finally. “You can stay, but you better make it worth my while.”

The place smells rancid as I step foot in there, but I’m done caring about any of that. He doesn’t offer to take my backpack and I don’t expect him to. I don’t expect him to do shit for me other than give me somewhere warm to sleep tonight and maybe a bit of food in my belly.

      I set my backpack down and take a seat on his grimy armchair, choking back the sadness that this is really it for the time being.

      I’ve almost convinced myself it’s going to be fine when I see the package of white powder on the coffee table.

      I’ve almost convinced myself I made the right decision when he snorts up a big fat line of it.

     

I hate him when he snorts this shit.

 I hate the person it turns him into.

      But it’s too late for all that now. I’m just grateful when he makes me a sandwich.