Laying the Ghost (26 page)

Nell felt a small guilty flicker, even though she knew that if at any time
she
dared use the world ‘child’ when talking to Mimi, she’d get the sharp end of teen scorn. She wasn’t sure why the omission had occurred, but somehow she hadn’t got round to telling Mimi that she’d spent an afternoon on the London Eye with Ed. On the day, Mimi had had a crisis of homework to be dealt with, next day a late play rehearsal, and since then she’d been anatomically welded to a new set of must-listen iPod downloads, and unavailable for chat about anything that didn’t involve basic information regarding the presence of food on the table. It was now as if the event had a life of its own and could make its own decisions about whether it came out into the open or not. Days later, and it still hadn’t got itself mentioned, so it would seem peculiar to bring the subject up now. Mimi would have questions to ask about why she hadn’t told her before. And worse, Nell would have to think about that herself.

‘You’re nearly sixteen, Mimi! Or would you like me to get you a babysitter? I know … I can ask Charles and Ed if you can go and sit with them next door till I’m back. You’ll like that.’

‘Aaagh noooo! I’m not going in there with two old men. They’ll make me play chess or something!’

‘Well, that wouldn’t hurt – it’s good for the logical
side
of your brain. It might help with your maths. Though I doubt it’s what they’d do. Ed’s more likely to initiate you into the finer points of the Jimi Hendrix catalogue.’

‘Oh, I already know all about Hendrix. Joel says he’s—’ Mimi suddenly clammed up, shifting about, rearranging her cushions and leaning forward to take an intense interest in a car-parts rip-off scandal on
Watchdog
, leaving Nell, who was now running very late, storing away the existence of ‘Joel’ for discussion another time.

As she left the room, Nell caught Mimi giving her a sly sideways look, as if assessing whether her mother had clocked the reference. Daughters, Nell thought – did they imagine mothers were born yesterday? Of course she’d clocked it.

‘It feels all wrong, coming here on a Thursday,’ Abi grumbled as she and Nell approached the Body and Soul studio. ‘It’s Olly’s darts night and he didn’t take kindly to coming over to mine to keep an eye on the evil brood.’ She pushed the studio door open and recoiled. ‘Phew, it’s whiffy in here!’

The studio definitely wasn’t perfumed with lavender-candle smoke today. The class before theirs had been something called Hyper-robics. All the women leaving the class had muscle definition that rivalled Madonna’s. They were panting, pungent and glistening, and left an aroma
of
bodies that were in obvious, post-exertion need of the showers.

‘Hmm. Bring back Advanced Yoga and scented meditation,’ Nell agreed, sniffing the air. ‘And I know what you mean, it sort of puts your week out, doesn’t it? Somewhere in my head I imagine I’ve got three more days to get this week’s work quota done.’ She’d got diseased fruit to do now;
Home Grown
’s editor had called to say that following on from the identification of vegetable ailments, they were
branching out
(peals of laughter down the phone) into soft fruit.

Abi and Nell sat on the bench at the back of the studio. Nell kept an eye on the doors, waiting for Steve to arrive. She felt a bit churned up inside, wondering if he’d look at her and sense that she was thinking handcuffs, cages, chains, whips – all of which he might not be into at all. It might just be an interesting collection of confiscated police items … hmmm. The last part of this class was going to be a women-only session about fending off sexual attackers, but surely that must apply to men, too – didn’t they get sexually assaulted sometimes? If Steve had a hands-on demonstration in mind, she’d make sure she kept well out of range when he asked for volunteers. And suddenly there he was – as ever she’d watched the wrong door and he appeared as magically as if he’d materialized through the mirrors. How did he do that?

‘Right! We’re having sex today!’ he announced cheerily.
There
was a ripple of sniggering from the ponytail girls and groans from the more world-weary. ‘We’ll start off with car safety. Now, you do all lock your cars when you drive, don’t you?’

Steve didn’t look at Nell once as he spoke. She concentrated hard on taking notes about what he was saying and found nothing to argue with in the common sense he was dealing out to them, although she did wonder how her car-insurance company would take the news of a collision that was somebody else’s fault, when she hadn’t stopped to take the collider’s insurance details on the grounds that the shunt might be a hijacker’s ruse.

‘And you do keep your handbag locked in the boot? Please tell me you don’t keep it on the seat next to you, in full view as you’re in a traffic jam down the high street?’

Patsy squeaked, ‘In the boot? What about … well, my mascara and my phone and stuff?’

One or two of the other women muttered agreement. ‘Definitely phone,’ Wilma pointed out. ‘I mean, if someone runs into your car you’re going to need that for calling the police, aren’t you?’

‘Yes – and it might be your phone they’re after, if you’ve got some state-of-the-art all-dancing gadget,’ Steve told her, with seen-it-all patience. ‘In a car, you’re best with some old pay-as-you-go thing that nobody in their right mind would think of nicking, just for this eventuality. And even then, you don’t want it in full view. Just sit on it.’

‘
Sit
on it?’ Abi said. ‘Are you saying I should have a special phone just for the car and that I should
sit
on it?’

‘Yeah right, that’ll be safe,’ Patsy giggled. ‘If you’ve got it on vibrate, you could definitely cause an accident, all on your own!’

‘You may laugh,’ Steve said. ‘But this could save your life.’ He waited patiently for all the female hilarity to settle.

‘OK – we’ve more or less covered car travel. What about when you’re out? It goes without saying, or it should, that you never lose sight of your drink if you’re in a bar.’

‘Never been known to let the glass out of me hand,’ Abi whispered to Nell.

‘And then there’s if you get lucky …’ Steve glanced down at Nell and she avoided his gaze, feeling her face getting warmer.

‘I can teach you everything I know about self-defence, you can be a black belt in karate, judo, t’ai chi, but it could all be for nothing in a date situation if you don’t stay sober enough to take care of yourself. Basics …’

Nell concentrated hard on her note-taking, having more than a vague suspicion about what was coming.

‘… well they’re obvious, but worth repeating. The things you don’t do. I’m not talking like those old-school judges who used to think that you were asking for it if you wore a short skirt—’

‘Well, good,’ Patsy’s friend interrupted. ‘Because girls like to have fun, you know? And if you can’t get a bit
dressed
up for a night out without some git saying you’re gonna get what’s coming … I mean this
is
the twenty-first century, no?’

‘Indeed it is,’ Steve agreed, ‘and have you ever been the one who needs to get home on her own and you’ve got in a car because the driver has pulled over and asked if anyone needs a minicab?’

‘Er, like no?’ she said. ‘Obvious, innit?’

‘Or met someone you fancy and gone back to their place just for coffee …’ There was a ripple of knowing laughter. ‘… and not, as it happens, actually known exactly what his address was once you’re in there?’

Nell looked up. Steve was staring straight at her. What was
his
address? She didn’t know now and hadn’t known then. She bit her lip, conscious that she was being told something here. Mimi should be hearing this – it would surely be a good thing if her daughter didn’t wait till she was in her forties to do this kind of essential learning.

‘And maybe decided that a tour of the apartment might be interesting?’ Steve’s voice became slower, quieter. ‘Did you notice how the door locks worked or refuse another drink because, actually, you’d had enough?’

The room was silent now; everyone was listening intently. Nell could have sworn she heard her own heart thudding. According to what Steve was saying, she was lucky it was still beating at all. She deserved to be lying
under
his floorboards, stone dead and trussed up in a binbag. ‘
You’ve only yourself to blame
.’ She could hear her mother’s voice; it was what Gillian had said the time Patrick had told Nell to get rid of the baby or forget about long-term life with him.
Why
did she have herself to blame? Being on the pill wasn’t fail-safe. Well, it was, so long as you didn’t cop a nasty dose of food poisoning. Here, though, would she have had herself to blame if Steve had persuaded her that a demonstration of the handcuffs would be fun? All those D-rings on the headboard – plenty of choice to clip the cuffs to … She had no reason to think he’d have hurt her but … it was a sharp lesson in the dangers of risk-taking, of not having a clue if your date’s idea of fun could turn out to be a long way from your own.

To be fair, Steve did offer the men the chance to stay for the physical fight-him-off section of the class. None did, and none moved out of the studio faster than Hell’s Angel Mike, who raced away as if he was terrified Steve would change his mind and insist on him hanging about to play the part of the Second Attacker.

‘Right – now this is where it gets serious,’ Steve said as soon as the door was closed. ‘Sexual crime, rape by a total stranger, the sort you read about in the worst-case events, they’re pretty rare, but whether it’s someone you know quite well who doesn’t understand the word no, or a nutter who’s followed you off the train, this’ll all come in
useful.
Now a volunteer. I want one of you girls to come and get on top of me, pin me down …’

There was nervous laughter. Steve lay flat out on the floor on a gym mat and looked at the faces above him.

‘Well, come on then! One of you’s got to pretend to be the attacker so I can show you how to preserve your virtue! Nell?’ He was grinning at her, provokingly.

Nell frowned at him. What was he playing at? Why couldn’t he have picked Wilma or Patsy? They’d shown a finer line in brass nerve in the class than she ever had.

‘No, not me,’ she said, simply.

Steve sat up abruptly. ‘
No?
As in, “No, I’m not interested in learning these techniques that might keep me alive”?’

‘No, Steve, it’s no as in, no, I’m not going to do it. Not this time. I’ll watch, I’ll pay attention and I’ll practise with one of the girls but I’m not volunteering.’

‘Right. And why not?’ He gave her one of his best, most disarming smiles. She smiled back.

‘I’m doing what you’re always telling us,’ she told him with calculated sweetness. ‘I’m saying no and meaning it. Being assertive. Defying the lion. You should be pleased with yourself – it shows you’ve taught me something.’

‘OK, Nell. It worked – you win. Nice one!’ he laughed. ‘What about you, Abi?’

‘Oh thank you, God!’ Abi squealed, sprawling herself across him almost before he’d finished asking.

* * *

‘What was all that about? What’s going on?’ Abi pounced on Nell as they were leaving the building. ‘You’ve been seeing him, haven’t you? I knew it! I could tell from
day one
that he fancied you.’ Abi looked very pleased with herself.

‘Once. I went out for lunch with him once. And before you get all oooh-er about it, nothing happened!’ Nell laughed.

‘Nothing? How disappointing!’ Abi patted her shoulder.’ Not even—’

‘No, really,’ Nell interrupted. In the light of what she’d learned in the class, he more than deserved a top reference. ‘Steve was a perfect gentleman.’

‘So where are we going? What’s all the mystery?’ Mimi had never been on the Silverlink rail line before. In her experience, Richmond station’s London trains went to Waterloo or were the District Line towards Hammersmith and Harvey Nichols. Now they were past Gunnersbury she was in unfamiliar territory and hadn’t a clue where they were heading. She felt nervous. How many hours this time? Were they going to end up in Scotland or something? This surely wasn’t the seaside trip? He’d said they’d need all day for that, not just a few hours after school.

‘I told you, we’re going for a picnic,’ Joel said. He put his arm round her and hugged her close to him. ‘It’s not far, not by train. Just up to north-west London,’ he said reassuringly.

He might as well have said the North West Frontier. Mimi recognized how pampered she’d always been, driven everywhere by her parents, who had been safety-conscious enough to ensure that wherever she was going, she got there safely. Or they had been, until her dad went. It all seemed to have fallen to pieces a bit since then, and her mum’s attention was definitely in a different place. But then, to be fair, Mimi’s social life so far had occurred in quite a small, restricted area, if you didn’t count Joel’s train habit. Being fifteen was strange: you sometimes felt as if you knew so much, that you were digging your way out of the burrow and could go anywhere, do anything, but then other times, you felt as if you’d love to be all cosied down in the back of your mum’s car, listening to music or playing some silly kids’-type car game, taking no notice of where the roads led and depending on someone else to get you to where you were heading. Here with Joel, she was in danger of doing that toddler thing and saying every few minutes, ‘Are we nearly there yet?’

‘Look up there on the map.’ Joel pointed above the carriage door. ‘Kensal Rise is only two more stops and then we walk a bit.’

Mimi had never heard of Kensal Rise and felt even more confused as the train pulled into Willesden Junction. Weren’t picnics for fields and country, birdsong and sunshine? Here they were in what looked like an endless industrial jungle. And she had the wrong clothes – what
she
’d planned to wear (cute bell-sleeved grey-blue dress, blue footless tights) was with her, but uselessly, pointlessly in her bag. Somehow this was all going horribly wrong. The scenes of near-sex in Joel’s bedroom that she’d tentatively rehearsed in her head hadn’t involved her school uniform and an endless vista of railway container-truck sidings.