And now? Now I was back at Emmy’s house, and much as I wanted to hate being there, I also didn’t want to leave. The fridge was full of food, and I didn’t have to worry about waking up and finding a stranger standing over me. If I hadn’t been so stressed over Lenny, I could’ve rolled over and gone back to sleep for the rest of the day, but I needed to know how he was, and also work out what was next for us. When Alaric started shoving my belongings into bin bags yesterday, I’d been too stressed to pay much attention, but did that mean he’d try to stop me from going back to the pub? Because where the hell else did he think I was going to live? I couldn’t afford rent in London, and I also had to find a new job, one where I could keep a better eye on Lenny. Some companies allowed pets, or so I’d heard. I needed one that would let me bring my damn brother to work.
I rolled over, found the number for St. Thomas’s and dialled, then did my best to sound polite when a woman answered.
“Hello? Can you tell me how Lennon Powell is?”
Alive, upset, and going into withdrawal was the verdict. Shit. Why had he gone back to the junk? The drink and the pot I could handle, but not heroin.
Dammit, Lenny. Every time I thought I was coping, things went tits-up again.
What was the time? Ten o’clock, and with Lenny staying overnight at the hospital again, I could at least get out and earn some money. Move my stuff back to the pub, run an errand or two for Digger, then head to Harlequin’s. Schoolwork would have to wait.
My room came with its own bathroom, like a hotel, and I stood under the hot water until my fingers went pruney. Then I pulled on my grubby clothes, which spoiled the feeling of being clean, and ventured off to find Alaric. And Emmy. I needed to thank them, both of them, even if the words might stick in my throat when it came to the latter.
Last night, I’d memorised my way from the hallway to my bedroom, and now I reversed the route. Turn right, go around the corner, head down two flights of stairs, follow the corridor to the left, walk through the door by the painting of a horse, and there I was, back in the art gallery. I stared up at the Picasso again. I’d only ever seen stuff like that on the telly, and although the picture was all wonky, it was also kind of impressive to be standing in front of something a hundred years old that still looked so fresh.
The house was quiet, insulated from the sounds of traffic on the road outside. I couldn’t ever remember experiencing that kind of silence in London. Even in the middle of the night, there was usually some idiot yelling or slamming a door. Was I alone? It felt like I was alone. But then I caught the merest whiff of bacon and figured someone was cooking. Not Emmy, apparently.
But she was the only person in the kitchen when I finally found it again, sitting at the table with a plate of crumbs and a laptop in front of her.
“Morning. Hungry?”
Always. “Is there any food?”
“Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge, or Ruth’s left bacon in the oven.”
“Where’s Alaric?”
“Out. He’s gone to talk to people about Hegler.”
“Do you know where he put my stuff?” He also owed me money, but I wasn’t sure how to ask for it after everything they’d done last night.
“Yes.”
“Can I have it back?”
“Later. I want to talk to you first.”
“Then can you hurry up? I’ve got things to do.”
“Get some food.”
I’m not hungry anymore. The words hovered on the tip of my tongue, my annoyance at being ordered around warring with my need to eat. In the end, hunger won. How long since I’d had a proper bacon sandwich? Months. The pub didn’t have a working kitchen, just a now-defunct microwave. It only had electricity at all because Tyson had found a way to wire us into next door’s supply. He was good at stuff like that. If he’d had actual qualifications, he could’ve made good money, but since he was an ex-con, nobody would employ him, so he made cash rewiring cannabis farms instead.
I found four types of bread in the fridge, along with ketchup, HP Sauce, and two kinds of orange juice. Emmy stayed seated, but even without looking, I felt her gaze burning into me as I moved around the kitchen. Talk about uncomfortable. The intensity could melt steel.
Finally, I took a seat opposite her, and sauce squished out the other end of my sandwich as I bit into it, splattering onto the white china plate.
“Where’s my stuff?”
“GCSE maths?”
“You went through my things? Don’t you understand the concept of privacy?”
“The bottom of the bag split and your textbook fell out.” Oh. “Having said that, I did take the liberty of running a quick background check. You’ve stayed out of trouble with the police. Fuck knows how.”
That bitch.
“I never did anything illegal until yesterday.”
“Bullshit.”
“What do you want? Look, thanks for saving Lenny and all that, but I just need to get out of here.”
“What do I want?” She pushed the laptop to the side and watched me, elbows propped on the table. Yep, intense. Don’t squirm, Sky. “What I want is to make you an offer.”
“Huh?”
“I want to make you an offer.”
“What kind of offer?”
“You remind me very much of myself eighteen years ago.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I sat opposite a man with a broken nose, and he made me a similar offer. I’ll adjust for inflation, of course.”
What was she talking about?
“You’ve got a lot of potential, Sky, and I don’t think you realise quite how much. Come and work for me for six months. Let me train you. At the end of that period, either one of us can terminate the contract if it isn’t working out, and I’ll pay you three hundred grand either way.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Three hundred thousand pounds for six months of your life.” Was she for real? “And I’ll also pay for Lenny to go to rehab. My assistant tells me the Abbey Clinic’s the best place in London. Lenny’s an addict, Sky, and with the best will in the world, you can’t fix him by yourself.”
Didn’t I know it? I’d tried and failed. And I knew all about the Abbey Clinic too. It cost over two grand a week, and you couldn’t even get an appointment without connections.
“Why me? I don’t have a single qualification, and my work experience is basically shady shit and serving shots to drunk people.”
“It’s the shady shit that interests me. And you also have other qualities.” She ticked off points on her fingers. “You’re loyal. You take care of Lenny no matter how many problems he causes. Plus you have a conscience. In Richmond, you could’ve walked off into the sunset, yet you came back. And you’re driven. Why else would you be pushing yourself to do schoolwork and keeping so fit in your spare time? You’ve got gifts, and I want to exploit them.”
At least she was honest about the exploitation part. But even so… “Three hundred grand? Are you crazy?”
“If it works out the way I hope it will, it’ll be the best money I’ve ever spent.”
This was insane. I stared down at my rapidly cooling sandwich and found I suddenly had lost my appetite.