Of course just when I’m not really paying attention someone steps off the street and walks up the alley. A man. But is it Bob?
And now he has his back to me.
He’s grey-haired, thin, wearing beige trousers and a navy-blue jacket and carrying a holdall. He walks fast, not looking to the door on the left that I escaped out of, not looking at the gates that the van went through, and he carries on to the end where he turns to the door on his right and unlocks it. As he turns the handle and steps inside he looks towards me. Then he’s gone.
So, if that is Bob, do I wait for him to come out again? He might stay in there for a few days. I’ve got to see him. Must stop being so pathetic. I’m crossing the road.
Now what?
A girl is walking up the alley ahead of me; she’s moving fast and is already at the end and knocking on the man’s door and going in.
What?
Do I do the same? Or wait?
A horn blasts. I’m in the middle of the road. I scuttle back to my side of the street and my doorway.
Was the girl watching too? Is she seeking help, or is she his assistant … daughter … friend?
She’s coming out already. She’s a kid, younger than me.
She’s walking fast, jogging across the road through a gap in the traffic, turning to her right and glancing at me.
Beckoning me.
I look at the alley.
It will still be here later.
I swivel round in time to see the girl turn down another street and I jog to catch up.
She cuts down another side street and then another and out into a major road with people and shops. Busy, barging people and I can’t see the girl. She could be in any of the shops. Clothes. Phones. Music. Books.
I turn round and she’s standing right in front of me.
‘Hi,’ she says, and grabs my arm. ‘You look like you need a drink.’
She’s chosen a table at the back of the coffee shop. We’re sitting opposite each other. She bought the hot chocolates and asked for extra mini marshmallows, then told me to carry the tray, and now she has the cup to her lips and is staring at me over its pink and white mountain. Her eyes are definitely fain: green, pretty but lacking that witch thing … the sparks. Definitely fain. And yet they’re weird; they have a liquid quality. There’s another colour in there, a turquoise that’s sometimes there and sometimes not. Like a tropical ocean.
‘You want to see Bob?’ She flicks her long brown hair over her shoulder.
I nod and attempt to sip my drink but can’t get at it for the pile of marshmallows. I eat all the marshmallows to get rid of them.
‘I can help you.’ She picks at her marshmallows, waves a pink one in the air as she says, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Um, Ivan.’
‘Unusual name.’ She picks up another marshmallow and adds, ‘Well, not in Russia, I suppose.’
She takes a sip of her hot chocolate. ‘I’m Nikita.’
I don’t think so.
‘Do you work for Bob?’ I ask.
She looks about fourteen, fifteen tops. She should be in school.
‘Do the odd job for him. A bit of this. A bit of that. Run errands for him. You know.’
Not really.
She finishes her hot chocolate, getting everything out with a spoon. After a lot of scraping she puts it down, and says, ‘Want a cookie?’ She’s up and gone before I can answer.
She comes back with two huge chocolate cookies and passes one over to me. I have to concentrate on not stuffing the whole thing in my mouth at once.
‘You shouldn’t hang around in front of the Council building,’ she says.
‘I was being careful.’
‘I spotted you.’
I was being careful.
‘You need to get some sunglasses to hide your eyes. And I’ve no idea what those are –’ she points to my tattoos – ‘but I’d get some gloves.’
I have a scarf round my neck that I took from the holiday home, but there weren’t any gloves.
She leans over. ‘Cobalt Alley is protected.’
‘Yeah, how?’
She waves her hands around. ‘Magically, of course. Fains don’t see the alleyway. Only witches see it.’
So she is a witch. But her eyes are different.
‘Once you’re in the alley you won’t get out of it unless you look at where you’re going and think about where you’re going. And I mean look hard and think hard. On the way in only look at Bob’s door, think about the door and nothing else and you’ll get to it. On your way out stare at the buildings on the street at the end. Don’t look down. Never look down. If you look at the gates to the Council building, if you think about the Council building, that’s where you’ll end up.’
‘Right … Thanks.’
‘Your homeless disguise is good, by the way.’ And she gives me a smile so I’m not sure if she’s joking or not. Before I can reply she gets up and walks out of the coffee shop.