The game, p.1
The Game, page 1
By the same author
The Front
Forget Me Not
Tainted Lives
Copyright © 2005 by Mandasue Heller
First published in Great Britain in 2005 by Hodder and Stoughton
A division of Hodder Headline
The right of Mandasue Heller to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
Epub ISBN 978 1 84894 299 8
Book ISBN 978 0 340 73507 7
Hodder & Stoughton Ltd
A division of Hodder Headline
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
www.hodder.co.uk
To the many branches of my tree,
for all that was and is yet to be . . .
Acknowledgements
Special thanks as always to my family:
Jean Heller, my mum. Wingrove Ward, my partner. Michael, Andrew and Azzura, my children. Ava, my sister. Amber, Martin, Jade, Reece and Kyro, my nieces and nephews. Auntie Doreen. Pete and Ann. Lorna, Cliff, Chris and Glenn. Daniel and Natalie. You’re all fantastic.
As are the rest of my family and friends who have supported me along the way, not least, Norman Kaine Fairweather Brown. Heartfelt gratitude to you all.
The more I see of the publishing world, the more I realise how vital a role each person within the industry plays. As I can’t hope to name them all individually, I extend an all-encompassing thank you to everyone at Hodder – particularly Carolyn Caughey, Emma Longhurst, Lucy Hale, and Phil Pelham.
Many thanks as ever to my agents, Cat Ledger and Faye Webber.
Nick Austin.
Lovely Betty and Ronnie Schwartz.
Martina Cole.
And, last but not least, Wayne Brookes – your help was invaluable.
PROLOGUE
The clock was driving Jane crazy – tick-tick-ticking a relentless tattoo into her pounding head, mocking her: It’s only twelve o’clock . . . It’s only twelve o’clock . . . It’s only—
Struggling to her feet, she winced as a knife-slash of pain sliced across her eyes. She had a terrible headache, and the unbearable tension wasn’t helping.
Looking at the drawn faces of her friends as they stared at the floor, contemplating their own versions of the hell they’d found themselves in tonight, Jane was swamped by guilt. She should never have involved them in this. It was nothing to do with them – not really. It was all her stupid fault. Why could she never leave things be?
‘Anyone want a brew?’ she asked, her voice too loud in the clock-ticking silence.
No one answered and for a moment she wondered if she’d actually spoken the words or only thought them. Given how messed up everything was right now, she couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t sure about anything.
Hobbling into the kitchen, she filled the kettle and set about finding cups amongst the mountain of dirty dishes heaped in the sink. Sensing movement at the window, she froze, the fine hairs rising on the back of her neck. Heart in mouth, she turned her head and stared at the thin curtains. There was definitely somebody out there: she could see the shadow shifting slowly along.
When the knock came, Mike crept up to the kitchen doorway and pressed a finger to his lips before moving on to the front door.
‘Yeah?’
‘It’s me,’ the shadow whispered. ‘Let us in.’
‘It’s a bit late for a visit,’ Mike said, breathing an audible sigh of relief that it was only speed-freak Roy. ‘What’s up, mate?’
‘Aw, come on,’ Roy wheedled. ‘I’ve been here later than this before. Open up, man. I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘No way!’ Pete hissed from where he was perched on the edge of the couch. ‘Don’t let him in.’
‘Er, not now, Roy,’ Mike said. ‘It’s a bit . . . inconvenient.’
‘Jane there?’ Roy asked.
As she stood in the kitchen doorway, Jane’s heart gave another painful lurch. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she bit down hard on her knuckles to stop herself crying out.
Half-turning, Mike raised a reassuring hand. ‘No, she’s not,’ he lied. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, something and nothing.’ Roy lowered his voice to a sly whisper. ‘It’s just that we had a little chat about evil the other night, and I wanted to tell her I was right.’
‘What d’y’ mean, mate?’
‘Aw, look, just open the door,’ Roy persisted. ‘This is dead important.’
‘Sorry, man, no can do. I’m, er, not dressed.’
‘Entertaining?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. So, hurry up and tell us what you want, eh?’
‘All right, I’m going. But do us a favour, yeah?’
‘Sure.’
‘When you do see Jane –’ Roy sounded muffled now, as if he had his lips pressed close to the wood ‘– just tell her I saw the Devil today. Tell her he was looking for her, but she’s not to worry ’cos I didn’t tell him where to find her. Later, yeah?’
Going back to the others when Roy’s footsteps had died away, Mike slumped down on the couch beside Pete.
‘Oh, fuck,’ he muttered, sounding as freaked as they all felt. ‘That’s all we need. What we gonna do now?’
‘We know what we’ve got to do.’ Pete sighed wearily. ‘Only now we’ll have to do it sooner rather than later, ’cos if Butler’s gripped shit-for-brains, there’s no telling what he’s let slip.’
‘You don’t think Roy would say anything, do you?’ Jane asked, nervously wringing her hands.
Looking up at her as she wandered fully into the room, Pete nodded grimly. ‘Probably, yeah. You know what he’s like.’
‘This is doing my head in,’ Tina snarled, bringing her fist down hard on the arm of her chair.
‘Yeah, well, it’s not exactly fun for any of us,’ Pete snapped, flicking her an impatient glance. It was the first time she’d opened her mouth in an hour, but the sound of her complaining voice was enough to raise a dead dog’s hackles. He wanted this over with – now. Pulling his sleeve back, he checked his watch and frowned. ‘Shit. We’ve got hours yet.’
‘God, this is awful,’ Jane moaned, swiping at a tear as it trickled slowly down her cheek. ‘I don’t think I can take much more.’
‘Don’t you dare start snivelling,’ Tina warned her unsympathetically. ‘You’re not the only one who’s suffering, you know. My back’s killing me, and I’ve got a—’
‘Why don’t you do everyone a favour and piss off to Mimi’s if you’re not up to this?’ Pete cut in coldly.
‘What for?’ she demanded.
‘To give us all a bit of fucking peace.’ He was openly glaring at Tina now, his dislike of the overweight, overbearing bitch intensifying by the second. ‘And don’t start kicking off, ’cos we’re in enough shit as it is without you making things worse.’
Bristling, Tina said, ‘Don’t tell me what to do! I’m sick to death of you and your orders. You think you’re a right hard knock, but you’re not. You’re just a—’
‘Pack it in!’ Mike interrupted sharply. ‘Pete’s right. You should go – both of you.’
‘No way,’ Jane protested. ‘I’m not leaving you to take the flak if it comes on top.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Mike assured her, his pale face belying his words. ‘It’s you they’re looking for, don’t forget. They don’t know me and Pete. If they come and you’re not here, they’ll probably just leave it.’
‘Yeah, course they will,’ Jane snorted sarcastically. They all knew that Butler would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Folding her arms, she shook her head determinedly. ‘No, I’m staying, and that’s that.’
‘Me too.’ Tina shot Pete a defiant glare.
‘Suit yourself.’ Holding his hands up in a gesture of resignation, Mike got up and went to the bathroom, his slumped shoulders clearly displaying his unhappiness.
The room fell quiet when he’d gone, and Jane felt the sound of the clock worming its way into her frazzled mind again.
Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
‘Aw, this is fuckin’ crazy!’ Pete barked suddenly, slapping a hand down on his thigh like a whip-crack. ‘Are you sure you didn’t find out where that gear’s stashed, Jane? This would all be over if we could just get it back to Butler.’
Jane’s mouth flapped open with disbelief. ‘Are you mad ? How’s it going to be over? Someone’s dead, in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘Yeah, and I don’t want to be next!’ Leaping angrily to his feet, Pete paced to the window and eased the edge of the curtain back to peer out at the road down below. ‘Shit, man, I can’t see a thing. They could be watching us right now for all we know.’
‘Losing your bottle?’ Tina gave a scornful sneer.
‘Fuck off!’
‘Hate to say it,’ Mike said, coming back with a worried frown creasing his brow. ‘But there’s an awful smell coming from the bedroom.’
Glancin g at the wall-mounted thermostat, Pete tutted when he saw that it was pushed up to its highest mark.
‘Great. We forgot to turn the heating off. There’ll be maggots and all sorts by now.’
‘Don’t,’ Jane groaned.
‘No point turning it off now,’ Tina grunted, giving an exaggerated shiver. ‘I’m already freezing.’
‘Stop thinking about yourself for just one flaming minute, will you!’ Pete bellowed at her. Then, turning to the others, his face completely drained of colour, he said, ‘Right, I’ve had enough of this. Let’s get moving.’
‘What, now?’ Jane gasped.
‘Yes, now. And seeing as you two are so dead set on staying, you can get your arses in there with us. MOVE IT!’
Gulping down the grapefruit-sized lump that was forming in her throat at the thought of the gruesome task that lay ahead, Jane helped Tina up and clutched at her arm as they followed Pete and Mike to the bedroom.
PART ONE
1
Hiding behind the stinking metal bins lining the wall beneath the grimy kitchen windows, Mary James buried her nose in her skirt to block out the stench of boiling cabbages wafting out through the clattery old air vents. Shifting a couple of inches to the left when a stream of hot grey water spewed out of the drainpipe and gurgled down the grid, she scowled at a burst of raucous dinner-lady laughter. She didn’t know what they had to laugh about. It was a shit school, and they had to be thick as shit to want to work here.
The morning bell began to clang out its warning. Staying where she was, Mary listened to the thunderous roar of footsteps as her fellow pupils ran through the scarred black doors. More thick shits, she thought with a sneer. Running along to boring assembly like their lives depended on it. God, she couldn’t wait to be free of this dump.
Reaching into her pocket for the fag that she’d dimped on her way in that morning, she was just about to light it when she heard hushed voices at the far end of the bins. Thinking it was the wag squad, she shuffled deeper into the shadows and held her breath.
But it wasn’t the nuns on the prowl, it was the so-called cock-of-the-first-year Jeanette Craig, and her sidekicks, Susan Murray and Sally-Ann Corbett.
Dipping her head, Mary peered through the gap between the bin’s wheels. She could only see the group’s feet as they gathered in the corner at the far end, but it was enough to wind her up. If they thought they were going to skip assembly out here, they had another think coming. The last thing she needed was for those dozy bitches to draw attention to her. Anyway, she was in second year and that gave her seniority. They could just piss off and find themselves another hiding place.
Pushing herself to her feet, Mary was just about to go and send them packing when she caught the nasty tone in Jeanette’s voice and realised that they were up to no good. Hesitating, she cocked her head and listened.
‘Where d’y’ think you’re going?’ Jeanette hissed.
‘The bell’s gone,’ another girl mumbled. ‘I’m g-going to assembly.’
Mary gritted her teeth. So, that was their game, was it? They were ganging up on someone.
There was a dull thud as Jeanette slammed the girl back against the wall.
‘No, you’re not,’ she snarled. ‘We ain’t said you can go nowhere.’
‘Yeah,’ Susan sneered nastily. ‘We ain’t give you permission.’
‘We’ll get in trouble.’ The girl almost crying now. ‘We’ll get the cane.’
Jeanette and the others laughed. They could see that she was crapping herself and it gave them a kick. They’d been planning this all weekend, and they weren’t going to let a little thing like being late for assembly stop them. Anyway, it was only Sister Ferdinand on duty on a Monday morning, and she was a wimp compared to the other nuns. If they didn’t do it now, they mightn’t get another chance for ages.
Whimpering as they closed in some more, the girl said, ‘Why are you picking on me? What have I done?’
Jeanette gave a nasty bark of a laugh. ‘It wants to know what it’s done, girls. Shall we tell it?’
‘Yeah,’ Susan hissed, her mean little down-turned mouth forming a perfect arch around her pointy chin. ‘Tell it we hate it ’cos it’s a filthy doggy bitch.’
‘I’ll tell you what you’ve done.’ Jeanette poked the girl’s skinny chest with a rigid finger. ‘Your mam’s a scrubber, that’s what.’
‘A proper slag,’ Susan chipped in. ‘And your dad’s a pervy old wanker.’
‘And you stink.’
‘Of piss and shit.’
‘And mouldy old bread. Haven’t you got no better clothes, you tramp?’
‘State of you. You look like you’ve been rooting in the bins. Can’t your mammy get no decent punters now she’s such an old scrubber?’
‘Get lost!’ The girl was crying now, tears of fear and humiliation streaming freely down her cheeks. ‘She’s not a scrubber!’
‘That’s not what my mam says.’ Jeanette shoulder-barged her into the bins. ‘You calling her a liar, or something?’
‘No! I’ve never even met her. How am I gonna—’
Slapping the sobbing girl hard across the face, leaving a stinging red palm print, Jeanette said, ‘Shut your bleedin’ mouth, you. No one calls my mam a liar and gets away with it.’
‘You’ve had it now,’ Susan crowed. ‘She’s gonna kick your face in for that.’
‘Nits!’ Sally-Ann squawked suddenly. ‘She’s got nits!’
‘You what?’ Jeanette jerked back.
‘There!’ Sally-Ann pointed. ‘I seen something move.’
‘Oooer, yeah,’ Susan yelped. ‘I seen it an’ all! Look, they’ve got a nest.’
‘You manky little cow.’ Lunging forward, Jeanette grabbed at the girl’s hair with both hands. Crying out when a bloated louse scuttled across her finger, she jerked back and wiped her fingers on her skirt. ‘Right, that’s it,’ she declared. ‘We’ll have to cut it off.’
‘I’ve got them scissors I nicked from art,’ Susan volunteered gleefully.
‘Giz ’em ’ere, then,’ Jeanette demanded, seizing the girl by the neck of her jumper – careful not to let the stringy hair fall onto her hand again. ‘And hurry up before someone comes.’
As Susan fished about in her satchel, Jeanette and Sally-Ann flicked furtive glances around the yard for approaching nuns. Finally, Susan pulled the scissors out and handed them over.
‘Grab her,’ Jeanette ordered. ‘Keep her still.’
‘Don’t!’ the girl cried as Jeanette snapped the scissor blades together just inches from her nose. ‘I’ll tell.’
‘And I’ll cut your bleedin’ throat,’ Jeanette warned.
Incensed by what she was hearing, Mary burst out of her hiding place and marched around to where the gang had the girl up against the wall.
‘What the fuck is going on here?’ she demanded, putting her fists on her hips.
Jumping, the girls turned around and blanched when they saw who it was. Mary James catching them at it was worse than all of the nuns put together. She would kick the shit out of the lot of them if she felt like it.
‘Nothing,’ Jeanette said, all trace of cockiness gone now.
‘Don’t look like nothing to me,’ Mary snapped. ‘It looks like you lot are causing trouble.’
‘We wasn’t doing no harm,’ Susan ventured nervously. ‘We was only gonna cut the nits’ nest out.’
‘Nest?’ Mary repeated scornfully. ‘They don’t have nests, you thick bitch. Anyhow, didn’t I see Nitty Nora dragging you out of assembly last week?’
Blushing furiously, Susan looked down at her feet.
‘We wasn’t gonna do nothing,’ Jeanette murmured. ‘We was only messing.’
Fixing her with a fierce stare, Mary said, ‘That right, is it? Well, you’d best not let me catch you messing with her again or you’ll have me to deal with. Got it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. Now, give me them and piss off.’ Snatching the scissors, Mary used them to motion the bullies away. ‘Go on – get moving before I change me mind and give you lot a haircut.’
Turning to their victim when they had fled across the yard, Mary looked her over and immediately knew why they had targeted her. She was a newcomer, for one thing, and she was skinny and scruffy, and smelled musty – like stale biscuits dunked in hot wee. The poor cow was asking for it.
