“Do you know of any relatives at all? Any who live nearby?” He’s still softly spoken. Non-judgemental.
“She doesn’t talk to her mum. Hasn’t seen her for years…” I trail off, trying hard to think. “I don’t remember her mentioning any other relations.” I’m not including Darren. He’s not a relative, he’s a parasite.
“In that case I’m going to need your help.” He looks over at Allegra. Dee is leading her into her flat next door. Her arm is wrapped protectively around her. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you that CPR hasn’t worked. They tried to revive your friend for the last ten minutes, but there’s no sign of life.”
“You mean she’s dead?” Even though I’m expecting this, I’m still taken aback. It’s the thought of somebody larger than life just disappearing that gets to me. She seemed invincible. Every time life beat her down she managed to rise up better than ever, like a messed-up phoenix. “Are you sure?”
“She’s a-systolic.” He says it as if it should mean something, and it does. Memories from nine years ago assail me—another night, another death. “The paramedics declared her dead a few minutes ago.” He rubs my arm and it feels vaguely comforting.
“How... how did she…?” I break off. I can’t even say the word. If I say it, I’ll make it real.
How the hell is Allegra going to get over this?
“There are all the symptoms of a heroin overdose. We can’t confirm it until after the post-mortem, but there doesn’t appear to be any foul play.”
Heroin? What an awful way to die. Horror and disgust wash over me, tinged with an edge of anger. Even if Darren didn’t hurt her, and even if he wasn’t the one doing the injecting, he’s still the man responsible for her death.
Not that Daisy doesn’t bear blame, too. But with her body lying on the floor of a run-down tower-block flat, I can hardly bring myself to think it. They’re all victims here. Her daughter most of all.
“Darren Tebbit.” I say his name with a low voice. “Her boyfriend is called Darren Tebbit. He hangs around the rec dealing to kids in the afternoons. Feel free to chop his dick off.” I walk away, fury boiling in my veins because I have to go and break a little girl’s heart.
28
When I see Niall’s name flash across the screen of my phone, I have to bite my lips so I don’t cry. Three simple words turn me inside out.
How’s it going?
He’s asking about my dinner with Simon.
My reply is just as brief—brutal, even—but I don’t have the energy to sugar-coat things. Daisy’s dead.
Allegra stirs in my arms, murmuring unintelligible words before she drifts back into unconsciousness. Her head rests against my chest, all tear-stained and red. Even in her sleep she sobs—tiny gasps that come every three breaths—and I stroke her hair, hoping somehow she knows I am here.
We’re sitting on a beige faux-leather sofa in Dee’s tiny flat. It’s very clean and tidy in here. Even her cat seems well-trained and under control. When she gives me a mug of hot, sweet tea and strokes my forehead with her plump hand I try to reward her with a smile. It turns out twisted but she doesn’t seem to mind. She may be taciturn, but she’s a star. I don’t know what we’d have done without her.
My phone vibrates and I know it’s him. The thought somehow grounds me.
“Hi.” I speak softly down the mouthpiece, trying not to disturb Allegra.
Niall doesn’t seem to have received the memo, though. His voice is loud and thick with Irish. It makes me flinch. “What the hell happened? Are you okay, did you get hurt? Jesus, babe, I’m freaking out here.”
“Hush, Allegra’s asleep.” There’s some kind of irony going on here. I’m the calmer of the two of us. “Daisy overdosed and Allegra found her. She called me at the restaurant and I came right over. The police are here now and we’re waiting for social services.” I can tell him all this without getting emotional because they’re just facts. If he asks me how I am, I know I’ll end up wailing like a baby.
“Is Simon with you?”
“No. I told him to go home. There’s nothing he can do here and he looked really uncomfortable.” I don’t tell him that Simon looked like an old man, shaking softly as he stared at the poverty surrounding him. He was shocked, that much I could tell. As if he couldn’t believe a world like this could exist in the centre of London.
“Are you still at the Whitegate Estate?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’m on my way.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to come over. We’re just waiting for the social worker to arrive.” I don’t tell him there’s no way I’m letting them absorb Allegra back into the system. I’ll fight them tooth and nail if I have to.
“I didn’t ask for your permission. I’ll see you in half an hour.” He sounds pissed off but it warms me inside. I like that edge to him; the protective side that doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s the reason he waited for hours in the rain while I sat in a police station. He wants to take care of me. I can live with that.
As long as he lets me take care of him, too. Equals in everything.
Allegra and I are still sitting in the same position when Niall arrives about thirty minutes later. Dee has turned on the TV and some inane late-night detective show is flickering across the screen. Allegra is still out for the count, her dark hair tangled across her face. If it wasn’t for the fact there’s a whole phalanx of police outside, I’d steal her away before the social worker gets here. I want to tuck her up in bed and hold her until morning.
I hear his voice before I see him. It’s distinctive—deep and slightly gravelled, his accent adding a cadence you don’t find in a native Londoner. Having him close feels as if somebody has placed a warm blanket across my shoulders. He’s there, standing in the doorway, his hair messy and wet as if he’s just stepped out of the shower.