‘Found it last night in the phone box, down on the right by the arches near Ladbroke Grove. My phone’s broken and my mum hasn’t got any credit on hers.’
I know where she means. Amongst the dirt and grime, piss and chewing gum, a collection of adverts live. Me. A new face, added to the bill. Roll up roll up, a tasty newcomer. A gallery of boobs, open mouths, weird grotesque looks on the women’s faces. And now, a schoolgirl. The image, the same one used on the poster left on my locker. New words.
SCHOOLGIRL MILLY ‘DTF’ READY TO SUCK COCK, CALL NUMBER BELOW
The science-block toilets. Izzy. ‘I won’t ask again.’ My phone vibrates, a buzzing from inside my left pocket, I enjoy a brief moment of how popular feels. Hungry lambs at a teat, enough is never enough.
‘No offence, but you don’t look the type.’
‘I’m not.’
‘What’s it all about then?’
‘Someone’s idea of a joke.’
‘You must have pissed them right off, it’s a pretty sick joke.’
‘It’s a couple of the girls from school, and the girl I live with.’
‘What, that snotty blonde bitch?’
She points towards our house, I look over my shoulder.
‘Yeah, her.’
The driveway obscures most of the windows but two or three look out on to the street. I’m hit by an urgency to keep Morgan a secret.
‘Has anyone called you?’ she asks.
‘Somebody just did.’
‘Fuck. What are you going to do to get her back?’
I’ll think of something.
‘Not sure, probably just let it go. How long do you reckon the postcard was up for?’
‘Maybe a day or something, I don’t know. You just moved here, didn’t you?’
I nod, reply, ‘They’re my foster family.’
‘We were almost in care for a bit when my mum was sent down but our nana came and looked after us.’
‘So your mum’s out now?’
‘Yeah, she was only in for a few weeks. Something stupid she helped my uncle with.’
She picks at her lips again. I resist the urge to slap her hand away, tell her to stop. She pushes her body off the wall, stands up. I ask her if she wants to hang out some time. Maybe, she replies. Suspicious. That’s good, I want to tell her. Safer that way.
‘We could meet at the bottom of my garden. The blue door in the close takes you into it, it’s usually locked but I could open it. My room’s the one with the balcony.’
‘Why are you so keen to hang out?’
‘Dunno. It’s not easy being the new girl, especially with a foster sister like mine.’
She nods. I get the impression she’s lonely too.
‘What do you reckon? Do you fancy it?’ I ask her again.
‘Like I said, maybe. You want us to meet in your garden so no one knows we’re friends, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not that, it’s to do with the blonde bitch I live with. Your words not mine.’
We both smile when I say it.
‘She’d find a way to ruin it, tell her dad or something,’ I explain.
‘Bet she would, silly cow.’
I need something to close the deal. Gifts open doors, trust comes easier afterwards, I watched you do it a hundred times with the kids at the refuge. THINK, ANNIE, THINK. Your voice in my head. The phone thinks for me, vibrates again in my pocket. I ask Morgan if she’s any good with them, take it out, show her.
‘I’m all right.’
‘What am I supposed to do now that I’m getting calls from the advert?’
‘Don’t know, change the number?’
‘I can’t, I’d have to ask my foster dad, he’d figure something was up.’
‘Chuck it?’
‘It’s brand new, it’d be crazy to throw it away. I could tell him I lost it but he’d be pretty angry I think.’
‘Who cares, they must have a shitload of money, what’s a stupid phone to them.’
‘True, but I still feel bad about binning it. You said your phone was broken, maybe you could borrow mine for a bit, get the number changed or something.’
‘Nah, it doesn’t feel right, I don’t even know you.’
‘It means we’d be able to stay in touch though, if we did want to hang out.’
‘And I wouldn’t have to do anything for it?’
‘No, nothing. Like I said, you’d be helping me out.’
She chews on her lip some more, stares down at her feet, then looks up and says, okay, deal. She takes it, says she’ll find a way to let me know when she’s sorted a new number, then asks me what to do with the postcard.
‘Was it the only one?’
‘Only one that I saw.’
‘Do what you like with it, burn it for all I care.’
She nods, and walks away. I watch her go, pleased with myself. Your lessons, your voice, helpful to me. Sometimes.
The house is quiet when I open the door, unlocked, so somebody must be home, likely Saskia, she always forgets to lock the door behind her. The radiator next to the shoe cubby releases a whispering sound, the effort required to keep the entrance porch warm exhausting for its ancient pipes. I notice a pair of trainers on the floor I don’t recognize, too large for a woman.
I take off my shoes and dump my stuff at the bottom of the stairs. Rosie looks up at me with half-closed eyes, too comfy to rise out of her basket to greet me, a vague thump of the tail. Dinner is plated, left out on the kitchen counter. Three in a line. Sevita knows better than to leave anything for ‘Miss Saskia’, which means both Mike and Phoebe are still out. I take the chance to switch on the radio while the stew is heating up in the microwave, see if I can hear anything, but the headlines are over. I eat fast, hoping to avoid Phoebe, and after I put my plate in the dishwasher I head to Mike’s study, knock on the door, make sure he’s not home. No answer. I use a Post-it note from the block on the table next to the alcove, write ‘Dear Mike, I’m so sorry but I’ve lost my phone, I can’t find it anywhere. What should I do?’
I stick it on the middle of his study door, at eye level, so he can’t miss it. A neon-pink apology, and a secret fuck you to Phoebe. I want to get a new phone as soon as possible so Morgan and I can stay in touch. I notice the door to the basement is open as I pass it, it leads to the laundry and the gym. I have a quick look to make sure Sevita isn’t down there, then close it, wishing there was a lock.
I check from my balcony if I’m right about the gate leading into the garden being hidden from the house. I am. I’m about to come inside when I hear the whistle, a small figure in the close, waving at me. She does something after that with her hands. A spark, another, a lighter being lit, followed by a lick of flame. Impossible to see from this distance, but I know it’s the postcard she’s burning. When it becomes too hot to hold she drops it on to the ground, makes a swiping motion with her hands, job done, and jogs back up the close towards the street.
I let down my guard, fall asleep too fast. You come to congratulate me. Remind me if it hadn’t been for your lessons, I’d never have got Morgan to trust me. I wake up crying.
Up eight. Up another four.
The door on the right.
Put the trousers on.
Put the shirt on.
Do as you’re told.
Dress up. Your favourite game.