Witness - [8]

‘You heard about the Nineteen Crew?’ Vinia asked her, keeping her voice low.

Cheryl shook her head.

‘Fired into Sam’s house last night.’

Cheryl swallowed. ‘Anyone hurt?’

‘Nah. They were lucky, man.’ Vinia shook her head. ‘But everyone’s wanting payback now.’

‘Wankers,’ said Cheryl. Vinia cut her eyes at her, a warning. Vinia had to be careful around Carlton. He was a man with a lot of power. A dangerous man. Twenty-four years old and running the neighbourhood like some feudal prince.

Cheryl sighed. Eased the buggy back into the centre of the pavement.

‘Dry clean only.’ Vinia was returning to the theme of her jacket when a loud crack split the air, echoing through the sunlit streets. Vinia looked at Cheryl, Cheryl gave a slight shake of her head. This she did not want. It was never-ending. Tit for tat. Boys running wild with guns and knives.

‘It came from over there.’ Vinia gestured in the direction of the dual carriageway and the recreation ground. She made to walk that way but Cheryl put a hand on her friend’s arm.

‘Wait, there might be more.’

Vinia took a drag of her cigarette and rolled her eyes at Cheryl’s caution. There were no more loud noises until the same car appeared, crossing the road ahead of them. Gone round the block. It careered down the centre of the narrow road and disappeared. Cheryl could smell rubber burning and see the cloud of exhaust, hot, making the road junction ripple in the heat.

‘Come on,’ said Vinia.

They walked quickly to the corner then along Marsh Street to the end. Cheryl saw someone on the grass, halfway across the rec. He had a green sweatshirt on. A woman was running up to him, kneeling down. Some kids on bikes were racing to reach the scene of excitement first. Her heart thumped in her chest. ‘No,’ she moaned. She pulled on her cigarette, her hand trembling, took the smoke in deep.

Vinia swore under her breath.

‘I’m going home.’ Cheryl wheeled the buggy round.

‘Don’t you want to see who it is?’

‘I know who it is.’ Her throat hurt and she felt sick.

Vinia had her hands on her hips, glaring at her.

‘It’s Danny Macateer.’ Cheryl’s eyes burned. She threw down her cigarette.

‘No!’ breathed Vinia. ‘How can you tell from here? We need to get a closer look.’

‘I’m not taking Milo there!’ Cheryl was furious. ‘You think a baby should see that?’ She couldn’t bear the way Vinia was talking about it, the avid interest in her eyes.

‘How do you know it’s him?’

Cheryl didn’t want to tell Vinia that she’d chatted to him. Not wanting to share the words they swapped. ‘He always wears that green top. You go.’ She was anxious to be free of Vinia. ‘I’m going back.’

‘Okay.’

Cheryl pushed the buggy as fast as she could go, biting her lips, her nose stinging, her chest aching. She burst into the house, dragging the buggy in after her. Slammed the door and sat down hard on the sofa.

Later, he’d said. Later. There wouldn’t be any later. He’d not get to rehearse, or play the gig, or make his mum proud. It wasn’t fair. The bastards had shot him down for no reason. He wasn’t in with the gangs. They’d shot him. Maybe a mistake. Or just because they could. And no one could do anything to stop them.

CHAPTER FOUR

Zak

Zak had spent all morning on the supermarket car park near the precinct. He did try getting into the precinct first, tied up Bess at the bike racks, but the guard gave him a stone dead look and jerked his head. ‘On yer way.’

‘I haven’t done ’owt.’ Zak protested, all injured pride.

‘And yer not going to, neither.’ The guy was chewing gum. Nicorette. Zak could smell it. Rank. He’d got some from the GP once, on prescription, sold it in the pub for a knock-down price.

‘Yer can’t do that,’ Zak said. Though he knew he could. Said it for the wind-up really. Liked the idea of toying with the guy for a bit. Bound to be on a short fuse, on the gum, trying to kick the smokes. ‘’S a public place.’

‘Wrong.’ The guy gave a smug little smile. ‘This is a private development, privately owned. Anyone may be refused entry or ejected. And I’m refusing you.’

‘Why, what’s your grounds?’

‘I’m not obliged to say.’

Zak snorted. Drew the roll-up out from behind his ear and fired up.

The guy’s cheek twitched, like there was a bug under the skin. ‘No smoking,’ he said tightly.

Zak took a pull, released it slowly, like an old advert, the smoke swirling up all lazy and relaxed. ‘I’m not inside.’

‘Within ten metres of the entrance.’ The bug jumped again.

Zak took a step back, and another drag.

The guard’s jaw jerked up, his eyes darkened.

‘Fair enough.’ Zak raised his hand, flaunting the ciggie. ‘I get the message. You have a nice day, now.’ He gave a little bow and spun away. Walked back to Bess. She wriggled like mad, ecstatic, as though he’d been gone for hours. He patted her back, rubbed the loose fur under her chin.

After that they went round the other side of the block to the supermarket car park. He left Bess at the far end where there was some shade.

Zak struck lucky first time: a good omen. A youngish woman, early twenties like him, plain-looking with a trolley full of food. He’d watched her load her stuff into the hatchback then return the trolley to the bays and get her pound back. He met her halfway back to her car.