This is the same as the hiss from mobile phones, but much quieter. I never got any hissing with Celia. She didn’t have a mobile. But when the Hunters came I could hear them hissing.
There is no hissing in the woodland here.
Just had a shower. There’s a load of shampoo, soap, and stuff in the bathroom. And there’s an electric razor, which is a nightmare and hacks bits off my chin, but I can heal quick enough so I use it.
I check the tattoo on my neck. It’s just the same.
I check all my tattoos every day and they are all just the same as the first day. I scraped the skin off the one on my ankle to see what would happen and Mr. Wallend was right: the tattoo reappeared. It even showed through on the scab as a fluorescent blue.
I look in the mirror at my eyes, my father’s eyes. I wonder if he looks in the mirror and wonders about my eyes. I want to see my father for real one day, just once, just meet him once, talk to him. But maybe it’s best for us both if we never meet. If he believes the vision he won’t want to meet me. I wish I knew more about the vision. Was it of me stabbing him with the Fairborn? Stabbing him through the heart? I want to tell my father that I would never do that. I couldn’t.
My eyes look so black now, the triangular hollows are hardly moving.
I’m back in the kitchen, the last teabag and me.
I’ve got to go. I’ve got to find the way to Mercury and get my three gifts. And I’m running out of time. It’s just over two months to my birthday.
And that means I’ve got to go to Bob’s place, the place in the A to Z. Only that leads me back to my problem. It leads me back to the alley.
When I stepped through the door from the courtyard of the Council building into the alleyway and I started running, I went at a good pace, a hard pace. I was still running three or four minutes later and I still wasn’t at the end of the alley. It was like running on a conveyor belt that was going the wrong way, like they were drawing me back in. And I was panicking and almost screaming by the end of it but I kept at it and somehow I got to the end, where the alley turned. I held on to the corner of the wall, and a woman walked past and stared at me. Then I walked round the corner but I didn’t let go of the wall, not for ages did I let go of that wall.
And now I have to go back there, past that corner and up the alley. The address of Bob, the man I need to see, is Cobalt Alley. That alley.
Nikita
The Council building is across the road on my left. I wasn’t sure it was the right building at first. I was expecting it to be gothic with spires and leaded windows like it is inside, but it’s different on the outside. It’s a seventies office block, all big and square and concrete, dark gray and stained black in places. I know it’s the right building because of the alleyway next to it. Also, I’ve walked round the block and found the entrance Gran and I used to use. It’s at the back through a little gatehouse that’s still there. That’s the only old bit of building that can be seen from the outside.
I’ve been standing in a doorway for a while watching the building. It’s sunny today, but this side of the road is in the shade and the shadows stretch across to halfway up the street frontage opposite. The Council building has rows and rows of regularly placed square windows, most of which reflect the sunlight in a blue-black shimmer, though tatty vertical blinds can be seen hanging unevenly at the lower ones in the shade, unwatered potted plants standing on the sills. It looks like an unloved, uncared-for office building. There’s no movement inside. I’ve seen two people go in, two women. They might have been witches, but I couldn’t see their eyes from here.
Nothing and no one has gone up or down the alley.
I told myself I would watch for an hour or two, but it feels like the office windows are watching me. I need to get this over with.
Feeling a bit shaky.
Couldn’t do it. I got close but I couldn’t go up there.
I will do it though. I’ve got to do it.
Just not yet.
Nothing happening at all. I was hoping to see the bloke, Bob, walk down the alley, but he hasn’t appeared.
He has to come out at some stage though. The best idea is to keep well back and watch.
He might be having the day off or be away on holiday for all I know.
It’s only one day gone. Only one day less.
Day two.
Okay. Day one was not a success. Nobody went up or down the alley (including me). A few people went in and out of the Council building.
But I’m here early now. Slept in a different doorway half a mile away.
And success already. A few people have gone into the Council building, but, more importantly, a van drove up the alley. It drove up, the gates to the courtyard opened, in the van went, and the gates shut. It all looked normal.
Nobody has walked up or down the alley yet. I’m waiting for my man to do that.
And waiting.
And waiting.
But everyone just walks on past the end of the alley, not even looking up there, like they don’t even notice it. There’s a dead-end sign and a brick wall at the far end, so no one’s likely to go up there. But still it’s like it’s invisible to passersby.
And what if he never comes? Mary told me about him years ago. Maybe he’s not here anymore. Maybe the Council has caught him.
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 gray 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 toward 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.”