Anywhere's Better Than Here (20 page)

They came to a junction where they had to wait for a run of taxis to pass. Gerry ducked between the cabs, but Laurie waited on the pavement, holding the boy back with her. Suddenly, realising she was as close to her flat as she was to Gerry's, she felt very weary and started to think about heading home. Maybe Ed would already be there and she could convince the boy to talk to Ed about whatever was going on. But then the boy very slightly leaned towards her and she felt herself fill up with sympathy about how shit it was being a teenager. She decided to stay a bit longer and see what she could do. The road cleared and she led the boy across. She turned to him.

‘‘I don't even know your name.'' The boy stared after Gerry who was standing waiting for them across the road. ‘‘Paul,'' he said, without turning.

‘‘Right, Paul.''

He turned to her quickly. ‘‘No, no, I mean, I get called Jamie.''

Laurie frowned. ‘‘What?''

He looked away, shrugging and shaking his head. ‘‘Okay.'' She frowned. ‘‘Jamie then.''

He turned his head to her and his eyes filled with tears. ‘‘Paul's dead.''

‘‘What?''

What was going on here? Laurie felt panic rise in her. Was this boy unstable? Was that what Ed was doing? Working with mad teenagers? She tried to remember if he'd said anything to that effect.

‘‘My friend, Paul.'' The boy stopped walking and started to cry. ‘‘He died.''

‘‘Oh, I'm sorry.'' She patted his shoulder. ‘‘And your name's Paul too?''

‘‘No.'' He glared at her through his tears. ‘‘I told you – it's Jamie. My mate was called Paul.''

She decided just to go with it. It was probably just confusion because he was upset. Maybe he had a head injury from the accident. She scanned his face but there were no visible signs of injury.

‘‘Come on,'' she nudged him. ‘‘Gerry's waiting for us.'' There was no way Gerry could cope with this on his own. Someone sensible had to be around. She put her arm around the boy's shoulder as they walked but he was slightly taller and completely rigid so it was painful and clearly not actually helping the boy at all, so she withdrew her arm and put her hands in her pockets. At least it had stopped sleeting now and they weren't far from Gerry's place.

The Christmas lights strung from the lampposts in this part of town looked as if they'd been up for years. Some of them had bulbs missing which gave them a deformed appearance. Several of the reindeers had only partially lit antlers and Santa's half illuminated face made him look a bit Phantom-of-the-opera-esque, but Laurie preferred the older, damaged lights over the newer, more minimalist decorations the council had bought in recent years. Christmas should be gaudy and twinkly and imperfect. She had no time for anti-tinselists.

‘‘What are you getting for Christmas, Jamie?'' As soon as she asked, she regretted it. What a stupid thing to ask an abused child.

But he didn't seem particularly disturbed. He shrugged. ‘‘The usual.''

He turned to her. ‘‘What about you?'' He gestured at Gerry. ‘‘What's he getting you?''

‘‘Gerry?'' She laughed. ‘‘Probably nothing. I don't think it's occurred to Gerry that it's Christmas. Anyway, we're not at a buying presents stage.''

The boy considered this. They turned the corner into Gerry's street. Gerry stopped at the tenement door until they caught up with him.

Gerry turned to them and nodded.

‘‘Right.'' Gerry pointed at the door with his keys. ‘‘We just need to get a few things and then we're off.''

‘‘Off where?'' asked Laurie as Gerry unlocked the door.

‘‘You'll see,'' he said.

Clearly, she was going to have to have a private chat with Gerry about his game plan. She was more than a bit concerned about his demeanour. What with all the upset in the cafe at the hospital and then this man-of-action stuff, she knew she had reason to be concerned. But it was nice to see him geared up like this. She could see the officer side of Gerry. She liked it: this was her idea of what a grown-up man should be.

She followed Gerry and the boy up the stairs. Inevitably there was movement behind Gerry's slutty neighbour's door. Laurie leaned up to the peep hole in the door and looked into it. She couldn't see anything, but she whispered at the door, ‘‘Get over it Theresa,'' as she walked past. She might have heard an intake of breath on the other side, but that was probably just wishful thinking.

Gerry opened the door to his flat and pointed in the direction of the kitchen.

‘‘Laurie, you make a flask of coffee and get whatever food you can find into a bag.'' He turned towards the bedroom. ‘‘I'll get some things together.''

The boy stood ramrod straight, awaiting instruction. Laurie could imagine him in a World War One uniform. She could see Gerry dressed similarly, standing holding a pocket watch in his hand, telling the boys when they'd be going over the top.

Gerry put a hand on the boy's shoulder. ‘‘You sit down and have a rest. You'll need your strength.''

What on
earth
was he planning? Laurie tried to smile at the boy as Gerry went into the bedroom.

‘‘Go and the stick the kettle on would you? I just want a quick word with Gerry.''

The boy hesitated then went into the kitchen. She stood for a moment staring at the wallpaper, trying to decide what the right course of action was. Clearly, Gerry had gone a bit mental. She wasn't sure if he'd had a lot to drink or if it had just been a couple of sips from his hip flask. He didn't seem drunk. But he did seem odd and it was probably best that she didn't leave him on his own with the oddly-behaving boy. Perhaps their oddness would cancel each other out, but it was best not to take the chance. She sighed and then knocked on the door frame of Gerry's room. She didn't want to startle him.

Gerry was packing things into a camouflage duffle bag. There were two sleeping bags rolled up on the bed. Camping? She shuddered.

‘‘Hi Gerry.'' He looked up at her and smiled. He didn't seem mad now. Just focussed.

‘‘So. What's the plan?''

‘‘We're going up to Perthshire.''

‘‘Okay.'' She scanned his face, but nothing else was forthcoming. ‘‘Why Perthshire?''

‘‘My family have a house there. A holiday place – it'll give us a chance to work out what we're going to do.''

‘‘Okay.'' She took a step closer. ‘‘But shouldn't we tell someone about Jamie?''

‘‘Laurie, the papers are full of child abuse stories where nobody does anything and the kid ends up dead.'' He gripped the duffle bag. ‘‘We aren't going to just dump him, are we?''

‘‘Well, no, but we don't want to do something hasty and then get into trouble ourselves, do we?''

Gerry laughed. ‘‘That's why we're going to Tarnbrae.''

‘‘Tarnbrae?''

‘‘The house. We'll have time to regroup there.'' He went back to packing the bag, then glanced at his watch. ‘‘We're leaving in ten minutes. Grab some cards and things. There's no TV.''

She frowned. ‘‘Okay. But I think we should at least phone Ed.'' Gerry didn't look up. ‘‘He'll be really worried and he might get into a lot of trouble for this.''

Gerry looked up, his face very serious.

‘‘No offence Laurie, but I've no time for people who just stand by and do nothing.''

‘‘That's not very fair.'' She was surprised by herself. ‘‘We don't know what's happened do we?''

‘‘It's not a risk I'm prepared to take.''

She sighed. ‘‘Alright.'' It was obvious that there was no dissuading him. She could also see that the boy would probably rather go off on a hare-brained adventure with Gerry than go home with her to face Ed. ‘‘Fair enough. But we need to talk about this properly when we get to the house.''

There was no response.

‘‘Okay?''

He nodded, but he didn't look up.

She should tell him about the dead friend, this Paul, but she didn't want to make things even more stressful. She'd wait for the right moment, maybe try and get more info out of the boy first.

She went through to the kitchen.

Jamie was standing in front of the bookcase staring at the picture of Gerry in his uniform. The kettle was boiling and he'd found the flask and some other things which were sitting out on the counter. He glanced over at Laurie then turned back to the photo. She went over to the counter and started to root around for the stuff to make a flask of coffee. She'd need it; she was as tired as she'd ever been. What she should be doing now was having a shower and then going to bed. She poured boiling water into the flask and dumped in a good dose of instant coffee.

She should be in her own flat telling Ed that it was over and that they needed to move on. She screwed on the lid and the cup and gave the flask a good shake. She needed to think about what on earth she'd been up to over the last wee while. She put the flask and a pint of milk and a bag of sugar into a plastic bag.

But sometimes the things you needed had to wait until other things had been sorted out. Surely, she knew that by now. Besides, there had to be a female presence in this situation. Not only to keep Gerry from being accused of something, but also to think about the things he and the boy wouldn't think of.

Gerry walked into the room holding up his kit bag in one hand and a clutch of sleeping bags in the other.

‘‘Right. That's us.''

Jamie turned to Gerry and pointed at the photo. ‘‘Who's that?''

It was obvious it was a younger version of Gerry.

Gerry grimaced. ‘‘Me.''

The boy nodded. ‘‘So you were a soldier.''

Gerry nodded. ‘‘I was.''

‘‘What do you do now then?'' Gerry nodded his head at the door. ‘‘Come on, let's get going.''

He walked out into the hall.

Laurie picked up the plastic bag. She watched the boy. His hand hovered over the photo. She knew that if she hadn't been there he'd have nicked it. He'd need some watching over. He was probably used to stealing things. She really hoped he wasn't going to cause any trouble for her and Gerry.

‘‘Come on,'' she said, pointing at the door.

He nodded, wet eyed.

She thought fleetingly about giving him a cuddle but doubted he'd welcome it. ‘‘Here. Take this.'' She handed him the plastic bag. He didn't move but just stood, staring at her. ‘‘Go on,'' she said gently, ‘‘follow him.''

He left the room. She glanced around, zipped the photo into her coat and followed the other two out of the flat.

***

The street was still deserted and Laurie started to get that post-apocalypse feeling. This situation was much more believably post-disaster than when she imagined it usually. There were all the classic ingredients for drama here: the strong, silent man, the woman who might be handy with a knife but was also prone to dramatic crying and a moody teen who will learn the meaning of life while trying to save himself, or something. Actually, Gerry was the perfect hero type. He had a fairly secret past and no real family connections. She had no idea what was going on in his head most of the time. But he had that necessary filmic sadness about him: a sort of wistful rancher cast to his face that women would fall in love with and men would admire.

Jamie was perfect as the teen runaway. He was obviously from a difficult background but he looked bright enough. He was nice looking too – quite tall and dark with sharp eyes that hinted at hidden depths. But what about her? She doubted she was leading lady material. She was too small, too normally proportioned. However, she knew she did have a steely core that could most likely be relied on in a crisis; she'd shown that she could follow the hero's lead, however daft it might seem; and she had a fairly complicated back story of her own.

Gerry walked beside them now, leading the way to a street around the corner. He stopped in front of an old Mercedes estate.

‘‘Here we are.'' He put the kit bag on top of the car and fished the key out of this pocket.

Jamie stood between Laurie and the car and looked ready to lay claim to the front seat.

‘‘Right Jamie, you're in the back. I'll sit in the front and navigate.''

Jamie scowled at her but moved to the back door.

‘‘Go ahead,'' said Gerry, ‘‘the doors are unlocked.''

‘‘How come you've got a Merc and you live in
that
?'' Jamie thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of Gerry's flat.

‘‘It was my Gran's. I inherited it.'' Gerry walked round to the boot and chucked the kit bag in. ‘‘Get in.''

Gerry and Jamie opened their doors and got into the car. Laurie stood for a second, playing for time. She looked up and down the street at the Christmas lights hanging from the lampposts and at the cars all neatly tucked in at the pavements. She could still easily walk home from here. Gerry was putting the key in the ignition. She felt something pulse through her. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew she had to go with them, at least to see what happened.

She opened her door. The car smelled of a combination of pine and mint.

‘‘Mmm, old ladies' handbags,'' she said climbing in. ‘‘Your granny kept a good smelling car.''

Gerry gave a slight smile. ‘‘She never drove it.''

Laurie had a picture of an old lady standing at her window staring out at her car from behind a pair of heavy damask curtains.

‘‘Why have a car if you aren't going to drive it?'' asked Jamie from the back seat.

‘‘She must have driven it sometimes, I suppose,'' said Gerry as he fiddled with the controls. Warm air started to fill the car. Laurie settled into the seat.