The Grave (10 page)

Samuel dragged her towards the front door, she pulled back,
afraid of the car park. His grip on her wrist was painful and she was aware of
people staring as they shuffled past. 

“Samuel, wait they’re out there, they’ll see us.  Wait, come
the other way.”

“No, there’s no way out, those doors are locked and alarmed,
trust me, just come on now, quick.”

They slid through the great doors and turned sharply left,
away from the car and towards the coach and lorry parking area. 

It was still raining, everything was sodden; they ran
through the puddles, muddy, oily water splashing up around their feet, soaking
their shoes and clothes.  He wove between the great trailers dragging her
behind him and hefting the heavy bag.  A driver climbing down from his cab
collided with Samuel.

“Hey, you stupid bugger, watch where you’re going,
asshole.” 

“Sorry, we’re sorry.” 

Sylvie gasped an apology and twisted to smile at the man but
he’d turned his back and lowered his head as he stomped towards the lights of
the building.  There were a number of trucks parked up.  Many of them had the
curtains pulled over the windscreens, the drivers sleeping away the hours until
they could legally get back behind the wheel.   He ignored those and the ones
that were obviously local, based in Preston, Lancaster, Morecombe, there was no
point stowing away on something only going five miles down the road or worse
still which had only just left the depot and wouldn’t be stopping again until
Portsmouth or Dover. 

A great red truck with a curtain sided trailer attracted
Samuel, he laid his hand on the bonnet. Cold, the cab empty but not curtained,
the depot in Liverpool.  They were on the southbound carriageway and so by
deduction it was a safe bet this guy had been heading for home.  Probably his
taco graph had demanded he stop, and so he had slept away the day and had now
gone in, to the toilet or for a cup of coffee and some carbs before finishing his
delayed journey.  He would be annoyed because he hadn’t made it home in time
and so hopefully, less likely to do much checking before he got back on the
road, especially in the rain and cold.

Putting his finger to his lips to warn Sylvie against
speaking he took a knife from his pocket.  He cut an L shaped slit in the heavy
siding, he lifted the edge to peer inside.  The truck was part loaded with
wooden boxes, tied and secured and he judged it to be as safe as they could
hope for. 

He ran around the back without much hope and, as expected
the doors were padlocked.  Using two hands he stretched the gap he had made in
the curtain.

“Do you think you can get in here, if I lift you up?” 

She nodded and raised her hands to hoist herself towards the
entrance he’d made, holding the wet curtain away from her face.  Wrapping his
arms around her he lifted her to the space and she slithered inside on her
belly, kicking and squirming.  It was dark, dirty and unpleasant and she was
terrified. As soon as her legs were in she rolled over onto her behind and
pushed herself into a sitting position.  Shakily she rose to her feet, Samuel
was pushing the bag of money in through the hole and she bent down to grab it
with both hands and drag it across the scarred wooden boards.  He followed and
then turned to pull the trailer side back into place.  He couldn’t do much but
it was taut and would face away from the wind as the truck moved.  Providing the
driver didn’t examine his charge on this cold, wet night they should get away
with it, all they could do was hope.

The light was very dim, only the glow from a small window in
the roof, but Samuel checked the strapping on the boxes, watching him Sylvie saw
this wasn’t the first time he had done this.  He shoved and pushed at the load
testing it for movement, though it had obviously been okay for the first part
of its journey.  He turned back to her and tried a smile, it was a valiant
effort under the circumstances but it was empty, she took what she could from
it and curved her lips upwards in response. 

There was a pile of dirty blankets neatly folded in the
corner near to the back doors and Samuel pointed to them, she nodded and
flopped down onto the hard makeshift seat.  Her insides were in turmoil, this
was very frightening.  She had no idea what it would be like when this great
leviathan moved off but she didn’t expect it to be pleasant, she was cold, wet
and scared.  Samuel lowered himself to the floor, wrapped his big arms around
her and hugged her to him.  She laid her head on his shoulder and relinquished
all responsibility for what was happening, her eyelids closed squeezing out two
fat tears which dribbled down her cheeks and unregarded dripped away to be lost
in the muck and moisture on her jeans.

She had never felt so tired, so dreadfully weary or so utterly
content all at the same time.  She was shivering still, from fear and cold, but
as his body heat and the strength of him leached into her bones she relaxed and
let herself drift in the dark, cold void that held her now.

In the event the movement in the back of the trailer wasn’t
as bad as Sylvie had feared. It was disconcerting to hear the traffic
swhooshing by on the road without a view of it, but the rocking was soothing
and they sat cradled together, silent in their exhaustion.

She had left everything behind save the things in her
handbag, her phone was there but the battery had flattened long since and with
no charger it was useless. Samuel had flung his from the car window before they
had reached the service station. She had some money, not much, her debit and
credit cards and some bits and pieces of cosmetics. Samuel must have even less,
only what he had in his pockets and anything else stuffed in the big bag along
with the money.

It was liberating, she felt cut loose, free-floating.
Nothing to hold her to her past life and no evidence of where she came from.
She relished her new-found anonymity for such a very short while. Mulling it in
her mind she realised she had no means of identification, her driving licence
was back in her other bag, at first she didn’t mind, she could change her name,
re-invent herself, her past was in the car park on the motorway. With this thought
the fragile sense of peace deserted her, bursting like a soap bubble in the
rain and she shot upright. Samuel had been snoozing but now he was alert and
awake, his head flicked back and forth.

“What, what is it.”

“My driving licence, it’s in my bag, in the car. They’ve got
my name, my old address, the flat. There’re some photographs in there as well,
me and Phil.”

He didn’t speak but merely drew her closer to him, they both
knew she was now complicit, her name was linked indelibly with his.  No matter
what, she was a part of his problems and had taken on board all the things he
was fighting and fleeing from. They didn’t know Phil was no longer a threat;
the great storm had taken him from their lives forever.

For a moment she buried her head in his chest. What did it
mean? she raised her eyes to his.

“Shit Samuel, I guess we’re stuck with each other now.”

Surprisingly he grinned at her, bent and kissed her
forehead.

“Well, I think you may be right.”

There was nothing they could do and so, accepting the
reality, they settled in the cold darkness of the trailer and listened to each
other breathing.

In little over an hour the speed changed and there was a difference
in noise.  They had left the motorway and were weaving through urban streets.
Samuel moved across the wooden boards and lay down in front of the slit in the
vinyl; he lifted it and peered into the night.

“Looks, like we’re nearly there, wherever ‘there’ might be,
can you push the bag over. Be careful stay on your bottom, don’t stand in case
he goes round a corner. Slide across. Be ready to jump out if he stops.”

They waited tense and watchful; Samuel held the gap open,
waiting for the truck to pull over.

“When I tell you to go just jump out and get to safety as
quick as you can. Then, no matter what, stay where you are. I will try to get
out at the same time but if I can’t I’ll come for you. I promise you, okay.”

She nodded and reached up to kiss him briefly on the mouth.

“What I said, in the café, about the way I feel.”

He nodded.

“I meant it. I really do care about you Samuel. No matter
what happens I want you to know I really do care.”

“I know.”

He didn’t say anymore but turned back to the slit, peering
out into the rain-swept night.

“Right, now, jump down.”

The truck was stopped at a six road junction, the lights
were red, there was little traffic. He held the space open as Sylvie lowered
herself backwards dropping the last few feet and then he threw the bag after
her. He turned and came behind her lowering himself almost to the road and then
letting go with his hands, landing with his knees bent. He grabbed the bag and
pushed Sylvie ahead of himself onto the pavement and into the darkness of a
shop doorway as the truck drew away, onwards towards the city.

“Are you okay, not hurt?”

“No, no I’m fine, are you?”

“Yeah, no problem. Okay, first of all, let’s see if we can
work out where we are. Come on, which way, left or right, it doesn’t matter,
you choose.”

“Oh, erm, okay left, let’s go left.”

It was cold, wet and inhospitable. They were on the
outskirts of a city, they assumed it to be Liverpool but as yet had no real
proof. It was a main road of shops and garages.  There was a glow in the sky,
the promise of bigger things a few miles distant. Here there were a couple of
small supermarkets still open and the ubiquitous kebab shops and pizza places. 
The electric colours spilled out to shimmer in kaleidoscopes on flagstones
soaked by the continual downpour. Wet litter shifted in the cold wind and they
had to jump back from the kerb as cars sped through the lying water sending
great fountains across the pavement.

Samuel stopped outside a snack bar.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m not hungry, I could use a drink, just some water or
juice but I don’t want to eat anything.”

“Hang on then.”

He went into a small convenience store, came out with
cartons of juice and a bottle of water. He had bought some chocolate and broke
a piece from the bar and fed it to her.

“You have to keep your sugar levels up. It’s cold and we
might have to walk for a bit.”

As he spoke they saw, up ahead, a bus stop with a small
queue of people huddling under the meagre shelter. Samuel spoke to a couple
standing with arms wrapped around each other, locked together, spacey looking.

“Excuse me mate, can we get a bus here for the town centre
do you know.”

“Yeah, number thirty-six takes you in. Where’re you going?”

“We just need to get into town, find somewhere to stay. We
were supposed to be going away.” He hefted the bag as evidence of the trip,
“But we had some trouble, my mate was taken ill now we just need a place for
tonight.”

“Well if you get the number thirty-six it’ll take you in,
but you could stay at the place up the road if you only need somewhere to
sleep.” He pointed towards a building, a large house, a few hundred yards away
from where they stood. There was an illuminated sign on a post in the almost
empty front garden which had been tarmacked over to form a car park.

“Oh, right. We didn’t see that, do you know if it’s okay.”

“Yeah, my mate’s mum runs it. It’s not dear and you get a
brilliant fry up for breakfast. Tell em, Stano sent yer.”

Samuel stretched out his hand and the youth simply knocked
at it with the back of his knuckles.

“Thanks Stano.”

“No problem.”

With the dismissive comment he turned his attention back to
the spliff his girlfriend had been holding out to him.

The hotel was small, old-fashioned and warm. It smelled of
dust and cooking but it was clean. The middle-aged woman who opened the door
had a friendly smile, a spare room and a nod when they mentioned Stano.

“Mates rates then for you.”

She grinned as she said it and they all acknowledged the
emptiness of the statement. She pushed the register across the top of a small
wooden counter positioned in the corner of the hallway.

Without a moment of hesitation Samuel signed them in as Mr
and Mrs S Percy.

“‘Ave you some i.d?”

“We lost some of our bags, is it going to be a problem?”  Sylvie
stood silent at his side, afraid to speak in case she spoilt the confident act.

“Well, normally I’ve to keep to the rules, but seein’ as you
know Stano.  Again she grinned.  “Are yer payin’ with a card? cos if yer are I
need to take it now.”

“Cash okay?”

She nodded.

“Just one night?”

“I think so, if it changes is that okay?”

“‘Course, let me know before twelve thass all. Double room,
fifty for cash.”

She grinned at him as the tax man was denied his cut, Samuel
winked at her, unzipped the bag top and bending low to block her view he slid
out some notes handing them over in a crumpled bunch. She stroked at them,
easing out the creases, a questioning look on her face.

“It’s not hot this is it?”

“No, we haven’t got cards, we had to go bankrupt, bloody
bankers.”

The story was familiar and she accepted it with a nod.

“Bloody bankers, soddin’ government, sod the lot of em I
say. Well, you guys ‘ave a good sleep, breakfast from seven-thirty to
nine-thirty and you ‘ave the room till twelve, less you tell me otherwise.
Okay.”

“Thanks.”

The key was attached to a large wooden fob painted with a number
eight.

“Second floor, ‘ave you just the one bag?”

“Yes, thanks, it’s fine we can manage. Can we get a cup of
tea.”

“Kettle and stuff in the room love. Do you want a sandwich
or somethin’?”

Samuel glanced at Sylvie, she simply shook her head. Her mind
was already full with thoughts of a hot shower, clean sheets and stretching out
beside Samuel. It felt like years since they laid together in the little room
in the Lake District.