Page 7 of Final Betrayal

Outside the nightclub, she looked up and down the narrow lane hoping to see a taxi. The taxi rank was on Main Street and she estimated she’d be drowned by the time she reached it, and anyway, she didn’t want to waste a tenner. No, she’d walk. Get some air in her lungs before she reached home. Might keep the hangover at bay.

Deciding to take the shortcut down by the railway, she turned left. At twenty-five, she was long past phoning her father to collect her, and past fearing being attacked. There were plenty of drunk and high teenagers who stumbled through the town nightly, and not one of them had been harmed. Not that she’d heard about anyway. She straightened her shoulders in her resolve and continued to walk. Quickly.

The street narrowed into an alley between a row of apartment buildings, and Amy saw a moth shimmering under a lamp outside a door. She stopped and stared as the large-winged, furry-bodied insect flapped against the light, trapped by its inability to see a way out. She felt a trickle of fear nestle in the nape of her neck, and a shiver skittered down her spine.

Turning around, she picked up speed and headed towards Petit Lane car park. It was even quicker to scoot down that way, under the railway bridge. The thump of music from the club permeated the night, and she wondered how anyone in the apartments she’d just passed could sleep at night. Then again, maybe they were used to it.

She heard the windshield wipers, swishing away the rain that was now becoming more persistent, before she heard the car. Standing to one side, she paused and waited for it to pass her. Instead, it stopped and someone got out. She moved to skirt around the back of the vehicle, but a hand caught her arm and pulled her backwards.

‘Hey, let go!’ she yelled.

‘Just a minute.’ The voice was low and hoarse. Like someone with a sore throat trying not to strain it. ‘I want a word with you.’

‘I’ll scream if you don’t take your hand off me.’

Amy thought her own voice sounded like that of someone else. Someone who was not terrified like she was. The car park light was behind the person and she couldn’t make out the features beneath their hooded coat. She felt like the moth she’d just seen flapping against the brightness. Sirens screeched in the distance; the music continued to boom from Jomo’s and she felt the night darkening with each passing second.

The grip tightened on her arm and she wriggled, trying to free herself. She fell off the high heel of one sandal, and with the strap caught around her ankle, she stumbled. An arm shot around her waist, and as she opened her mouth to scream, a hand clamped tightly over it. She thought she felt something prick the skin behind her ear.

The hoarse voice was behind her. ‘If you keep still for a moment, I will explain.’

Amy tried to scream, but the hand was stifling her cries. She was trapped. Her words were lost and her ankle pulsed with pain. As she was pulled tighter, she felt her assailant’s body against her spine. The smell of fresh mint mingled with the rain, and lips brushed close to her ear. She struggled to hear what was being said as the sirens blared louder and the music thumped relentlessly through the rain.

At last the noise faded and the only sound Amy heard was the thudding of her own heart. Her hair was plastered to her scalp but the hand held firm. She scanned the car park, the deserted spaces slipping in and out of focus, but it offered her no safety. She felt the head lower to her face again. And this time she heard the words.

If she could have screamed, she would have, but Amy could do nothing but slump against her captor as all the power disappeared from her body.

Katie Parker hadn’t been out on the town in almost two years. This was supposed to be the start of the new Katie, but now her ass of a sister was ruining it for her.

‘I told you not to drink shots, Chloe. You’re too young, plus you haven’t the constitution to withstand so much alcohol.’ Katie held her sister’s arm, trying to keep her upright.

‘You sound just like Mother. Dictators, that’s what the two of you are.’ Chloe folded into a hoop with a bout of hiccups. ‘And I’m nearly eighteen. So there.’

‘Yeah, well you’re a fool and you’ve ruined my evening.’ Katie guided her away from the gathering crowd and into the ladies’ toilets.

The cubicles were all empty. Chloe dropped the toilet lid and plonked herself down. Katie watched her in the mirror as she ran a finger around her smudged mascara. She turned on the tap and brown water spluttered into the sink.

‘What the hell is that?’

‘Water?’ Chloe offered.

‘No, the sink. It’s all gooey.’ Katie touched a finger to the bowl and knew instantly what it was. She moved to one of the cubicles and noticed the same substance on the cisterns. Vaseline. Dotted with white powder.

‘Coke, is it?’ Chloe slurred.

‘In my day, a few joints was all we could afford.’ Katie recalled with a wry smile her illicit smokes with Jason, her boyfriend and the father of her son. Jason had been murdered, and it seemed like a whole lifetime ago. She suddenly felt a lot older than her twenty-one years. Maybe she was getting too like her mother. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

‘What do you mean?’ Chloe said.

‘You can’t go home drunk as a skunk. Mam will kill you.’

‘Don’t want to go home.’

With a sigh, Katie hauled her sister up off the toilet, stretched her arm around her and hugged her tightly.

‘You and me, we have to make life work for us. And getting blotto on a Saturday night isn’t doing either of us any favours.’

‘I think you’re drunker than me,’ Chloe said.

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