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  I’ve got them now! she thought. They were far enough away from Shannon. She suddenly turned and ran, long strong strides that took her round the corner. She heard the three boys yell out in anger and the sound of their thumping footsteps as they gave chase. By then she had leaped up a nearby wall and stood legs apart over the connecting alley as the boys ran past beneath her, blind to everything except running her down.

  Fools, she thought to herself. She waited till they had run to the end of the alley and disappeared out of sight, before jumping down and running back to Shannon. Shannon was huddled over, not moving. Kerrys wondered if she’d fallen asleep. She reached down and shook Shannon roughly. Shannon’s head jerked up and looked at her blearily.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘One minute everything was fine, and then . . . then it wasn’t.’

  Kerrys gave Shannon a wry grin.

  ‘I think they liked you,’ she said.

  ‘Then . . . why did they chase after us like that?’ asked Shannon, her tone one of bewilderment.

  Kerrys gave a shrug.

  ‘Who knows? Maybe you’re that desirable.’ She grinned, slightly more relaxed now. ‘If we could figure men out, we’d be millionairesses.’ She hauled Shannon to her feet and took in their setting: the dumpsters, the newspapers and takeout boxes, the crap. ‘Slumdog millionairesses,’ she added wryly. She released Shannon. ‘Can you stand?’

  She watched as Shannon tested herself, swaying slightly. But she stayed on her feet.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘OK,’ said Kerrys. ‘I think you should go home. Be safe there.’

  ‘OK,’ agreed Shannon. She swayed slightly, took a deep breath, then stood firm again. Suddenly a frown crossed her face, as if she was struggling to remember something important.

  ‘Kerrys,’ she asked, ‘when we were all together in the coffee bar, did you see a note?’

  ‘A note?’ echoed Kerrys, puzzled. This was a fine time to be asking questions.

  ‘In an envelope,’ explained Shannon.

  ‘Who from?’ asked Kerrys.

  Then Kerrys was aware that Jas had pulled up in her car and was waiting, ready to get them away.

  ‘You wanna lift?’ she asked Shannon.

  ‘No,’ said Shannon. Then she added with a polite smile, ‘Thank you.’

  And she began to walk away, still stumbling slightly.

  Kerrys watched her go. I sure hope she’s OK, she thought.

  ‘I’ll call you in the morning!’ Kerrys called after her.

  Shannon didn’t reply, just kept walking. Kerrys shrugged and ran towards Jas and the waiting car.

  31

  Kerrys woke next morning in Cass’s apartment and looked round it. Fabulous. This was the way to live. Lots of space. Cool decor. Cool clothes. And a cool car to go with it.

  But first, get the driving licence.

  Today’s the day, she told herself. This time she would pass. By the end of the morning she would have that vital slip of paper in her hand that said ‘Pass’ and she would be free to drive on her own.

  As she thought of the forthcoming test she couldn’t shake off the slightly sick feeling in her stomach. How hard could it be? Jo had a driving licence. Jas had one. Manuel had one. Shit, people with less brains and less physical skills than Kerrys had one. OK, she’d screwed up the last test, but everyone did. Or most people did. It was that bitch of an examiner who’d failed her because she didn’t like her. OK, they’d ended up in the instructor’s car in the middle of a round-about, but that hadn’t been completely her fault; she’d just got a little confused between the pedals. Accelerator, brake, clutch. ABC. Only they weren’t in that order, left to right. They were CBA. Clutch, brake, accelerator. What was the use in the instructor telling her to remember ABC, accelerator, brake, clutch, when she read left to right!

  And don’t put your feet on the brake and the acceler-ator at the same time, she told herself. That’s where it had gone bad last time.

  She took another deep breath. At least the chance of her having that same bitch of an examiner had to be remote. Ten to one against, surely. More. With luck she’d get a black gay woman examiner, someone who’d understand and be sympathetic.

  She looked at the clock by the bed. Nearly time.

  Kerrys sat in her driving instructor’s car, hands on the steering wheel, going through the procedures in her head. Mirror, look, signal, manoeuvre. Remember to take rear observation. Not just using the mirrors. Turn your head and look behind you. There are blind spots. Make sure your examiner sees you turn your head to make that rear observation. But don’t hold your head turned too long. Just long enough.

  ‘Ready, baby?’ asked her instructor.

  Kerrys looked at him and gave him a confident smile.

  ‘Born ready,’ she said. Then she laughed. ‘Even though it took six months.’

  Her instructor laughed.

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Let’s go.’

  They got out of the car and walked towards the test centre building. As they walked, Kerrys ran through the signs in the Highway Code. Single yellow lines. Double yellow lines. A white circle with a black diagonal line through it. She knew them. She could do this!

  Kerrys pushed open the door and walked in. And stopped. She was there. The bitch from last time. She was holding a clipboard, studying it. She looked up as Kerrys entered. No smiles. No welcome. Nothing.

  ‘Ms Jauo-Pinto?’ she said coldly.

  Bitch! thought Kerrys.

  Kerrys’s instructor stood outside the test centre, watching and waiting. OK, it was the same bitch as last time, he thought, but Kerrys was cool. She was more mature than the last time. She could handle this. All she had to do was follow the procedures and keep her head. Kerrys could do this. She would be cool. It would be OK.

  The sound of tyres squealing made him look up, and then his jaw dropped and he let out a groan as he saw his car, with Kerrys at the wheel and the terrified examiner next to her, skid into the yard and brake with a force that almost set off the airbags.

  He saw the examiner struggling with her seat belt, eager to get out, but before she could Kerrys was out of the driver’s seat and had run round to the passenger side. As the examiner pushed the door open, Kerrys kicked it shut with a metallic clang. She then carried on kicking at the car door, and the rest of the body. The instructor rushed forward.

  ‘Kez, stop! That’s my car!’

  He grabbed hold of her from behind and pulled her away, her feet still kicking out, but now just hitting empty air. Kerrys flailed with her arms, trying to break free of his grip around her.

  ‘Get your hands off my chest!’ she raged.

  Reluctantly the instructor released her, poised to grab her if she started attacking his car again.

  The examiner pushed the door open, got out of the car, glared at both Kerrys and her instructor and stalked off towards the test centre building. Kerrys let out a groan and dropped her head into her hands.

  32

  Kerrys was glad that her grandparents and her aunts from Brazil were gone when she got back home. As it was, it was bad enough to see her mother and stepfather standing in the living room, waiting for her, expectant smiles on their faces. As she walked in they both threw their arms wide and chorused, ‘Congratulations!’

  Kerrys shook her head.

  ‘I didn’t pass,’ she said miserably.

  ‘You didn’t pass?’ echoed her stepfather, surprised.

  ‘No,’ groaned Kerrys. ‘And I got banned from that test centre.’

  Manuel, who was sitting in an armchair near his parents, sniggered.

  ‘Figures,’ he chuckled.

  Mr Jauo-Pinto turned on his son angrily and clipped him round the ear to shut him up. Then he turned back to Kerrys and appealed to her: ‘Kerrys, why do you do these things? No daughter of mine should behave like this.’

  ‘No daughter of yours would,’ snapped back Kerrys. Even as she said it, she wished
she hadn’t. That was unfair. He hadn’t been a bad father to her. And it couldn’t have been easy for him bringing up another man’s child, with all that Brazilian macho shit. Kerrys’s mother glared at her daughter, furious at her for having said what she said, and then walked out of the room. Her stepfather shook his head sadly. ‘Why you say these things?’ he demanded unhappily. ‘Why can’t you be like . . . ?’

  ‘Like this little arsehole?’ demanded Kerrys angrily, gesturing at Manuel. ‘Doing his little dodgy dealings that you never seem to notice.’

  With that she stormed out of the room. She needed to get out of this house, away from here. As she opened the front door she felt a firm hand grip her arm and spin her round. It was Manuel, and he looked angry. He pushed her against the wall of the hallway and wagged his finger in her face, his voice low and threatening.

  ‘Hey, half-breed. You better keep your mouth shut about anything you see me do.’

  Kerrys felt her face burn with anger. She shoved Manuel back, harder than he had pushed her.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ she spat at him. ‘You hate me that much because we have different dads? Or you jealous cos I get more girls than you?’

  For a moment Kerrys thought he was going to launch himself at her, attack her, and she clenched her fists ready. But Manuel must have seen the anger and determination in her eyes and he just stood where he was, his face twisted into a sneer.

  ‘Just remember: no matter how bad you think you are, you still have to squat like a bitch to take a piss.’

  Kerrys’s open hand swung up and slapped Manuel across the face.

  ‘You know what? Fuck all of you!’

  With that she pushed past him, out of the house.

  Shannon was walking down the path towards her. ‘You didn’t call . . .’ she whined.

  I don’t need this, thought Kerrys grimly. Tears were already pricking at the backs of her eyes. She didn’t like people to see her cry. Not tough, hard Kerrys.

  ‘Go away, Shaz,’ she said through clenched teeth, and pushed past her friend.

  33

  Kerrys lay sprawled on the bed in Cass’s apartment. Junk food packs and beer cans were discarded on the floor around the bed. Kerrys felt . . . abandoned. Abandoned by everyone.

  The TV was on, a twenty-four-hour news channel. The newsreader was talking about diamonds again. Fuck diamonds — just give me the money, thought Kerrys.

  ‘Global Witness claims that terror groups have infiltrated diamond trading to raise funds for their cause and launder huge amounts of money . . .’

  The doorbell sounded. Kerrys got up and pressed the buzzer to let the visitor in, then returned to the bed. The newscaster was still talking. ‘It’s claimed that diamonds mined by the rebel group the RUF in Sierra Leone were responsible for 50,000 deaths.’

  Kerrys looked towards the door and saw Jas, and her heart lifted. This was what she needed. Arms to hold her, lips to kiss her, a body to press close against her. She smiled and patted the space beside her on the bed.

  ‘Hi, babe. Come and lie down.’

  Jas didn’t come over. There was something in her stance that said something was wrong. Kerrys felt a stab in her heart. What bad thing was going on? She turned off the TV and looked enquiringly at Jas, who held out her hands in a gesture of apology.

  ‘Kez, I brought someone with me. He came to see me at work. I think you should talk.’

  Kerrys sat up, bewildered, and then she saw that Manuel had appeared from the doorway and was standing just inside the room, an awkward grin on his face.

  ‘What the fuck!’ exploded Kerrys angrily. ‘Jas, what the fuck you doing bringing him here?’

  Jas opened her mouth to explain, but before she could Manuel had moved further into the room, his eyes taking it all in, his smile getting broader as he saw the richness and class of it all.

  ‘So this is Cass’s flat,’ he murmured. ‘Nice. Maybe I should get me in there.’

  ‘What do you want?’ demanded Kerrys, now standing and glaring at her brother, very angry indeed.

  Manuel sighed and extended his open palms towards her in a gesture of surrender.

  ‘I came here to make peace,’ he said. ‘I promised Mum and Dad I’d come and say sorry.’

  But you don’t really mean it, thought Kerrys angrily. You fooled my girl, but I know you don’t mean it. It had always been this way with Manuel, ever since they were kids. Manuel making her life a misery, then apologising publicly when forced to by their parents, but carrying on making her life a misery again as soon as their backs were turned.

  ‘Fine,’ snapped Kerrys, unmoved. ‘You said sorry. Now go.’

  ‘The thing is, they want a big happy family thing for my birthday tomorrow,’ continued Manuel. ‘Which means you. Me, I’d rather do a thing with the boys but we gotta keep them happy . . .’

  ‘We both know it will go a lot better without me there,’ Kerrys told him tersely.

  ‘True,’ agreed Manuel absently.

  Kerrys wondered what he was up to. His attention had moved off her and he was examining the bed, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. Actually, Kerrys had never seen a bed quite like this one, raised up high the way it was, like on a platform or something. Manuel reached his hand towards the bed, his fingers going under it, searching. Kerrys was about to snap at him to get his fucking hands out of it, when he pressed something: a switch or a button or something, because the top of the bed began to slide to one side.

  Puzzled, Kerrys, Jas and Manuel moved nearer, looking down into the space below the bed, and continued looking down into the room that was revealed below. It was completely furnished: bed, TV, everything.

  Shit! thought Kerrys, stunned.

  Manuel gazed at the exposed room in awe.

  ‘She’s got a panic room!’ he said.

  Jas shook her head, as amazed as the other two. ‘Wow! I read about people doing this shit ever since that damn movie came out.’ She shook her head. ‘The movie wasn’t that good, but this . . .’

  Kerrys struggled to find her voice.

  ‘Even I’m impressed,’ she admitted. ‘Cass sure kept this quiet.’

  Suddenly she realised that Manuel was climbing down into it.

  ‘Look at this!’ he said, awed. ‘Toilet, TV, phone, CCTV, food, a bar . . .’

  Kerrys hesitated, then she joined Manuel in the panic room, Jas following her down as well.

  As the two girls began to examine the equipment in the room, Kerrys became aware of a movement above them. She looked up and saw the bed sliding back into place, and realised with a shock that Manuel was no longer in the room with them.

  ‘Manuel!’ she began, but it was too late. Her last glimpse of Manuel was an evil smile on his face, before the ceiling slid fully into place, blotting him out completely. There was the sound of a deadbolt clicking into place and a low blue light came on in the room.

  They were locked in.

  34

  Along with the low blue light, all the other electronic equipment came to life as the deadbolt clicked into place. The CCTV display showed four screens: the bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. Manuel could be seen lounging in the living room, one leg slung casually over the arm of a chair as he talked on his mobile.

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ muttered Jas, pushing against the ceiling and finding it firmly locked in place. There was an illuminated keypad in the ceiling. ‘All we’ve got to do is ask Cass for the code to open it.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Kerrys.

  ‘Sure you can,’ said Jas. She pointed to the landline phone. ‘Just bell her.’

  ‘I can’t because she doesn’t know I’m here,’ admitted Kerrys. ‘I stole her keys.’

  ‘You what?!’

  ‘I didn’t do it deliberately. They fell out of her bag and I picked them up. I wasn’t planning to do this. It just seemed to me that with Cass in New York, and my family being the way they are, we’d have some private time together
.’

  Jas spotted a movement on the CCTV cameras: Manuel getting up and heading out of the living room. He appeared in the hallway, went to the door, and opened it. Two young men were standing there. One of them held out his hand. Manuel took something from his pocket; it looked like a little black bag. He handed it over to the young man, who took it from him and then looked past Manuel into the apartment. The two girls couldn’t hear what the boys were saying, but it was obvious the young men were admiring the place.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Jas.

  Kerrys scowled.

  ‘Something bad,’ she muttered. ‘That’s Dillon and Smoothy, two of the lowlifes Manuel hangs with.’

  ‘He slipped them something,’ said Jas. ‘Did you see?’

  ‘Dope.’ Kerrys nodded. ‘Sure to be.’

  She looked at the keypad in the ceiling. She’d seen this on the movies. A four-figure number should do it. Like a PIN. What numbers would Cass use as her code? Her birthday. That’s what they said on TV — people always use their birthday as their PIN. OK. She tapped in the date of Cass’s birthday. A bleep from the keypad. Access denied. OK, not her birthday. Her address? No, that wasn’t four digits. The year she was born?

  Kerrys tapped in the year. Another bleep. Access still denied.

  Maybe it was one of the other girls’ birthdays? Kerrys typed in her own date. Access denied. Shannon’s. Access denied. Jo’s. Access denied.

  On the screen they saw Manuel check his watch and then head out of the front door, taking care to leave something stopping the door shutting completely. You bastard, thought Kerrys. She tried variations on the birthdays: month and year, then year and month. Access denied.

  ‘This is gonna take for ever,’ moaned Jas.

  ‘I’ll crack this if it’s the last thing I do,’ vowed Kerrys. She looked at the keypad and gave a heavy and weary sigh. ‘Guess I’ll just start from the beginning.’