Gypsy Girl (27 page)

I’m sitting up in bed in my little room. There’s a couple of chairs and a bedside table, and that’s it. My hair is still sticky with blood. They’ve taken away the torn and filthy remains of my once beautiful bridesmaid’s dress, and I’m wearing a hospital gown that doesn’t do up at the back. My shoulder has a dressing on the front and one on the back, where the bullet came out. The wounds are very small, considering how painful it was. They’re going to scar me for life, but with every minute I lie here, propped up on pillows, I can feel myself getting stronger again. I’m no longer like a kitten, but my brain is still haunted by Hudson and Pony. Every time I shut my eyes I see Pony’s face again.

Don’t think about his face.

When the nurse comes back in, I demand to see Gregory again, but I’m still not allowed. They don’t care that Gregory saved my life, and I saved his. They just keep on giving me tests. I’ve had so many needles stuck in me, I swear, I’d leak like a sieve if they ever gave me a proper drink. Instead, I have to take small sips of lukewarm water, even though I’m dying for a Diet Coke. I’ve tried explaining to the nurses that I’m a chief bridesmaid and I have to go and find out what happened to the bride and her groom, but they ignore me.

I’m not sure what the time is, but with everything that’s happened, time doesn’t matter any more. Especially for Granny Kate. Her time has run out, and although my heart aches for her, this still isn’t the time to grieve, not here in this place. But there will come a time when I will weep for her. And a time when I will get revenge for her pointless death. Just thinking about revenge makes me want to move, however much it hurts. I’m thinking about sneaking along to Gregory’s room when I hear Sabrina and Beryl outside having an argument with someone. I think it’s the poor policeman. He’s telling them that I should only have two visitors at a time, but Beryl’s taking no notice. She bustles in, followed by my father, Bartley and Sabrina.

“Here she is!” she shouts.

“Oh my God, get me out of here,” I say straightaway. “I’m going crazy. I’m suffocating. And everyone’s asking me questions, but no one’s telling me what’s happening.”

Beryl plonks down in the nearest chair. She’s still in her wedding outfit, with her fascinator sagging from one side of her hair. Sabrina sinks into the other one, smoothing her white going-away outfit, her face miserable. Bartley and my father loom over the bed, staring at me.

“Well, this is a mess,” says Bartley.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell the police,” I say. “They’ve stuck a policeman outside my door, but they should be protecting you, and everyone else as well.”

Bartley looks horrified. “We don’t want the police hanging around us.”

They don’t understand. “You’re all in danger. They’ve got McCloud but not his son!”

“Calm down.” Bartley pushes me back onto the pillows. “It’ll be fine. McCloud is helping them with their enquiries, so are his men. His business is finished. He’s got more to worry about than us.”

I sit straight up. “You’ve got to make sure they arrest him and don’t let him out.”

“I knew that man was evil,” says Beryl. “Every time we drove into the field he was there, glaring at us like we were the criminals. And now it turns out he is one!”

“Leave it, Beryl,” says my father. “She’s wound up about it enough as it is.” He turns to me. “Why didn’t you tell us he’d threatened you?”

I look from him to Bartley. “Because he said he’d get my family if I told anyone. I thought if I stayed in the crowd and kept them at a distance, and showed them I wasn’t running off to the police, that we could just leave after the wedding and never come back.”

“No one is going to get us,” says Bartley. He leans down and strokes my hair back. “Seriously, you were worried this man was going to get away with hurting the Smiths?” He smiles. “Just let him try. I’ve alerted everyone, and I mean
everyone
. We’re all on the lookout.” He pats my good shoulder. “I think we can get on with our lives without worrying about McCloud.”

He looks so strong and capable standing there that I do start to relax. I almost feel like smiling, but then I see my father’s face. I know what’s coming.

“There’s something else we’ve got to straighten out, haven’t we, Sammy-Jo?” he says.

I slump back on my pillow and try to look weak. “The fights?”

“Yes, the fights, you little madam. You’re never going to fight in those places again, do you hear me?”

I give a small nod. “Yes.”

“We’re better than that, Sammy-Jo! You’re better than that!”

“I know.”

But he can’t shut up. “Running wild and sneaking out without me knowing. Maggie would die of shame. And now look at you!” He shakes his head at my cuts and bruises and the bandages on my shoulder. “I’m at my wits’ end with what to do with you. Rocky’s told me all about it. He’s going to have a word with you as well.”

I roll my eyes. “Can’t wait.”

“Why did you do it, Sammy-Jo? Tell me that!”

“It was exciting.” I’m not going to tell him the truth, that I needed the money for the wedding.

He sighs. “I’ve not been taking enough notice of you. From now on, you’re not going to go running off all over the place. I’m keeping my eye on you, girl. And no more fights until you’re eighteen and you can enter the legal ones.”

I shrug. “I don’t want to fight in competition any more. I’m not interested. I know I can win them, that’s all that matters.”

“Good. I’m glad you said that,” says Beryl, quickly. “Because Bartley’s got an idea.”

I bet I know what it is, but suddenly Sabrina comes to life. “Shut up, all of you! Sammy-Jo’s recovering from a trauma, and you’re all shouting at her.”

This is something new: Sabrina sticking up for me. And the shouting does stop, because a nurse has popped her head round the door to have a word with my father. Beryl and Bartley follow him, which leaves me and Sabrina alone. She’s looking dangerously close to tears.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she says, blinking madly. “I couldn’t cope. We all thought you were going to die. First Granny, then you.”

“Sorry. And sorry your wedding got ruined.”

She wipes her eyes carefully, so she doesn’t disturb her eyelashes. “And our wedding night. That was a disaster as well. We didn’t go away on our honeymoon, as you can see. It turned into a wake for Granny Kate and you.”

“I’m not dead.”

“You nearly were! We took it in turns to be at the hospital. Everyone else went back to Tyson’s house. We weren’t alone for two minutes, I swear.”

“Very romantic,” I say.

“Some bridesmaid you turned out to be.” She stops, bites her lip and starts winding her hair around her finger. Something’s up with her, something more than a ruined wedding night. I wait. Eventually she glances up at me through her lashes, and whispers, “You paid for the wedding, didn’t you? From those fights.”

That gives me a jolt. “Who told you that?”

“No one. I just figured it out. I’m right, aren’t I?”

I relax again. “Yeah. My choice. But don’t tell anyone.”

Her face crumples. “I’m going to cry.”

“Oh God, no, please don’t.”

Her lip trembles. “I was such a bitch…”

“You were you. Now shut up about it.” I have to distract her, and I know just the thing. “Do you want to see the bullet wound?”

That perks her up. “Go on, then.”

I lift the dressing. She peers at it. “Urgh. That’s disgusting. It’s going to scar you for life.”

I can’t help but smile. It’s good to hear her back to normal. Yesterday I thought I’d never hear her moaning ever again. But the others haven’t finished with me yet. The nurse has gone, and they have returned to my bedside. Beryl comes straight to the point.

“Bartley, tell her your plan. It’s the answer to everything. Listen.”

Bartley sits on the end of the bed, which creaks under his big frame. “Come to America for a holiday. It’s going to take a while for them to investigate McCloud and catch the son. You need to get away from it all for now.”

My daddy’s nodding and saying, “Bartley’s right. Go back with him. We can get a ticket next week, after the funeral.” His face looks strained. I can tell he’s been worrying all night. “You’ll be safe in California. No one will ever touch you again.”

“No.” I have to put my foot down now. “You’ve got to let me live my life. I don’t want to get out of the way. I want to get back to normal.”

Like hell I do. I want revenge, but I’m not telling them that.

Now Beryl’s chiming in. “And the best place to do that is America. Tell her, Bartley!”

“Quiet, Beryl! I’m trying to tell her. I want you to join the training courses I run out in the desert for the contestants. We’re thinking of having girl contestants, so you’d be the guinea pig. You’d be doing me a favour.”

“I can fight already, Bartley, I don’t need to go to America.”

“It’s not just fighting. It’s boot camp. It’s about surviving, and it’s worse than military training. You think you’re tough, but you need discipline. You’ve been running wild for too long.” He narrows his eyes at me. “It’ll be the hardest thing you’ve ever done—”

“You’re not selling it well, Bart,” mutters my father.

“—but it’s better than being injured in one of these illegal fights,” he finishes, quickly. “Say the word, and I’ll get you a ticket.”

“And you can be with family, instead of hanging round with people we don’t know,” says Beryl.

“She means Gregory,” interrupts Sabrina. “She’s been glaring at his mum and dad in the waiting room, and they’ve been staring at us.”

Beryl’s face goes stubborn. “Well? He’s not family.”

I can’t let her get away with that. “He’s my friend, OK?” I slide down my pillow and let my eyes droop. “Anyhow, you’ve got to leave me alone, all of you, and not nag me, the nurses say. I’ve been shot. I’m still recovering. But I’ll think about your offer, Uncle Bartley. I really will. I’ll decide after the funeral.”

They have to put up with that. It’s been a long day and an even longer night as well for them.

Finally, after they all kiss me and hug me, they leave me alone. But there’s no peace for me, and no chance to sneak off to see Gregory, because soon as they disappear, Rocky bounds in, followed by Miss Stroud.

Rocky throws himself into the nearest chair. “About time. I’ve been here most of the night.”

I push myself back up against my pillows, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. “Why is she here?”

“Miss Stroud?” He gives her a glance as she sits in the other chair. “She’s helping with the investigation. She’s not really my probation worker.”

“You don’t say.” So I hadn’t been dreaming, when they both turned up at the reservoir last night.

“Too right, I’m not.” Miss Stroud has cool blue eyes, and she’s pretty enough. She’s lounging in her chair, tipping it back onto two legs, her feet in biker boots sprawled across the floor. “I’m CID.”

That makes me blink. Rocky hanging round with a plain-clothes woman detective? I turn to him.

“I swear I’ll need emergency treatment if you tell me you’ve joined the police.”

He pretends to look offended. “Heaven’s sake. Of course I’m not a gavver, Sammy-Jo. Never was, never will be. I’d sooner chew off me own leg.”

“That’s the truth. He’s definitely not the police,” says Miss Stroud. “He wouldn’t last a day.” She looks at him like he’s some naughty boy. “We’re both investigating illegal fights.”

I hadn’t expected that, but then my brain starts ticking over. That must be why people knew him when he followed us to the fight the other night. And how he got to hear my name, Gypsy Girl.

Rocky looks smug. “The police were getting nowhere, so I had to help them out.”

“Don’t push it,” says Miss Stroud.

He laughs. “OK, the truth is I’m helping them and they’re helping me. We’re going to stop all the illegal fights before more people get killed, or crippled.”

I remember him going mad at me that night, telling me about his mate who got crippled. “Is this because of Billy Lee?”

He nods, the smile fading. “Of course it is, Sammy-Jo. Me and him were like brothers. It was my fault he got into fighting. He came to the gym with me one day and got hooked on it. When he got crippled, I went a bit crazy and started doing stupid stuff.”

Miss Stroud gives a small smile. “I was the one who arrested him. When he told me his story, I realized we could be of use to each other.”

“That’s why I went mad at you at the fight. I don’t want anyone else injured.” Rocky glances at Miss Stroud. “Me and her have got the same aims. She’s doing it for the police, and I’m doing it for Billy.”

“But it’s still taking a long time,” she says. “We’ll never close the fights down until we find the one man who runs everything, even though no one ever sees him.”

I suddenly realize who she’s talking about. “Maltese Joey?”

“That’s the name he’s trading under. But no one knows who he is or where he lives. He’s at the centre of all the deaths and injuries. Plus he sells steroids, and gets kids hooked.”

All this talk of Maltese Joey is getting Rocky riled. His hands are in fists, and he springs to his feet and starts pacing. “He was the one who got Billy taking steroids. And that’s how he made him keep fighting.”

He goes on and on, pacing and ranting about the fights and how dangerous they are, and how Billy Lee will never walk again, and how stupid I was to get involved with it. “You were all being exploited. Maltese Joey is clever. He sits back and rakes the money in from idiots like you.”

He’s making my head ache. “I knew what I was doing. Nobody forced me or any of the other fighters.”

He throws out his hands. “You were exploited!”

“How?”

Miss Stroud’s keeping out of this. She’s sitting back, watching, as Rocky sits down again, leaning forward, counting on his fingers.

“Steroids, DVDs of the fights. Pay-per-view Internet sites. The numbers of hits on the Internet for some of these files are in the millions! No proper referees, no medics, no first aid of any kind. There’s been deaths, permanent injuries and brain damage at his fights.” He shakes his head at me. “And you went and put yourself at risk.”