Page 56 of Secrets at the Little Music Shop

‘And then this gang found us. We were hiding out in a disused warehouse, starving because none of us knew how to shoplift, we were all too scared of getting caught, and it turned out we were hiding in a crack den.’ I gave a sudden, shocked laugh. ‘We didn’t even know what a crack den was. But these guys, they took us in, me and Ran and Chris and they looked after us. Properly, I mean, they got us a place to live and food and stuff. And okay, so we didn’t go to school much or anything but we were together, things were fine. Say what you like about street gangs, but they look after their own.’

‘You joined a gang?’ Ben’s surprise was almost comical.

‘We talked posh. Well, according to them we did, anyway. And it’s surprising what people will believe from someone who talks “posh”. The gang used us, con tricks, distraction, that kind of thing.’ I took a long, deep breath. ‘I got the mark, I went on jobs. I was good.’ I defied Ben to speak but he stayed silent, watching me.

Breathe, Jemima. Breathe. It’s all over now.

‘Despite it all, Ran and I stayed clean, it was the only way to be ahead of the game, to be in control. But Chris . . . he joined a band.’ I gave a smile which was like a humour black hole. ‘Always loved his guitar, did Christian. Obsessive. Thought he’d make it big, get discovered, that kind of thing. He thought he could handle anything, he was very young, didn’t know what he was getting into, he didn’t know how hard it would be to get out of, he thought he could drop it any time but—’ I stopped.

Ben leaned forward and refilled my glass. ‘We’re talking about what? Heroin?’

I talked to my drink. ‘Have you ever? Tried it, I mean?’

Ben shook his head. ‘Nah. Hate needles, hate smoke. I’ve done most things but not smack. I know Zafe did it once or twice but . . .’ he shrugged. ‘Nothing heavy.’

‘It was heavy for Chris. Five years it took but eventually . . . he dumped the band, vanished for days, turned up rambling and sick. Even . . .’ I gave a strangled hiccup of ironic laughter. ‘Even sold his guitar. We tried to straighten him out, Ran and I, but—’

‘You have to want to stop. I should know. No-one can tell you.’

Despite the cosiness of the little room the air felt like a corpse. I should have known Ben wouldn’t flinch at this story. I should have trusted him.

‘While this was all going on I . . . got together with Gray. Ran warned me off him, told me to keep away but, I dunno. He was sexy. Dangerous but sexy. And I was seventeen, thought I was in love, so of course I wouldn’t listen to my brother, I mean, what did he know—’ My voice cracked and I took a deep gulp of the whisky, even though it was bitter and hot in my throat. ‘I thought love was meant to be like that.’

I could see Ben open his mouth to ask what it had been like, then think better of it. A little shiver ran over his skin and I saw the goosebumps rise.

‘Then Chris OD’d. One day, down a back alley in Bristol. He’d been sold some stuff that was pure and we didn’t find out for a week.’ I tilted my chin up to stop my voice cracking. I could still smell the smoky, foul odour that I’d grown to associate with Christian, still taste the fear at the back of my throat. ‘Ran found the guy who’d supplied Chris. It took time to track it all back, but he found him. Killed him.’ I licked my lips. There were no tears. Not now.

‘Wow.’ Ben rubbed the back of his neck. He was about to say more but I leaped in. He had to know it all.

‘I was there, I begged Ran to stop but he wouldn’t. Just kept on and on . . .’ I half covered my ears as though I expected the echoes still to be sounding. ‘I called an ambulance, and I lied, Ben. Told them that there was another gang trying to take over the area, that there’d been a fight. Oh, the police found out I was making it up, of course, it was hardly CSI and I’m not exactly a criminal mastermind. They got hold of Randall, open and shut case. I went to prison as an accessory.’ The cells, the noise, the relentless banging. No peace. Never any peace, not now.

‘But why? Why all this, over something that wasn’t your fault?’

‘Because the dealer was Gray.’ I drained the nearly full glass in one gulp. ‘And now you know. My judgement in men is so crappy that I spent nearly five years with a guy who was dealing heroin and I didn’t know. He was selling to my own brother and I didn’t know.’

‘Shit.’ Ben put down his glass.

I started talking quickly. ‘Ran went down for murder. For life. I was only inside six months and while I was there I learned to make jewellery so I took that and I ran away.’

‘And you’re still running?’

I nodded. Five years of running, of setting up and moving on. Of living in people’s spare rooms, in guest houses and squats. Of making just enough money to eat.

‘But why? What are you running from?’

‘Memories.’ I held out my glass for a refill and was proud of the way my hand didn’t shake. ‘I’ve blocked this all out. There’s some kind of psychologist’s word for it, but I’m good at not remembering now, if I don’t try it all stays dark. Ran died in prison. Knife fight. And once he was gone there was nothing to hold me, nothing to stay anywhere for. So I’ve kept on travelling. It keeps . . . it keeps the memories from surfacing. That’s why I didn’t know anything about Willow Down. I was abroad, working anywhere I could get a bed for the night. I’d make a few pieces and sell them to get enough money to move on whenever . . .’ I tailed off.

‘Whenever you felt you were getting settled? Oh, Jemima.’

I drained another glass. ‘And my name isn’t Jemima. It’s Gemma. Gemma Bredon. I chose Hutton off the map one day when I was passing through. York seemed such a nice place. Then I started supplying Saskia regularly. I met Rosie and I thought — I thought it might be different this time.’

Ben’s eyes were immense in the lamp light. ‘And I thought I was damaged,’ he said softly.

The whisky was making my head swim. ‘I’m pissed,’ I announced.

‘You wouldn’t have told me, not without a bit of Dutch courage.’ Ben held out an arm and hauled me to my feet.

‘I wanted you to know.’ His body was pressed against me, I could feel every bone through his clothes and smell the fresh, clean scent of him. His hair brushed against my neck. ‘But I thought you might hate me for it.’

---