‘Stay behind me,’ Daniels murmurs.
They stand with their backs to the wall. It is not much of a defensive position and if it comes to a fight, he will have to let her go to fend them off. The seconds tick by, the boys glancing from one to another. They are like hounds: if they rush together, their chances are improved but at least one of them will be taken down.
‘Clear off!’ A small man, not much larger than a boy himself, his head oddly narrow as if it was clamped or squashed as a baby, emerges from the shadows. He holds a shotgun at his waist, the stubby barrels levelled on the group. He slides it over their faces and brings it to bear on the chest of the tall one who is evidently the leader. ‘Go‘n,’ he says, ‘mek yer move.’ It’s as if the shape of his head causes the words to come out squeezed.
This older lad stares back, unwilling to concede, before muttering a command, and the smaller boys shrink away. Walking backwards, he slinks into the building, holding his fingers up in a three-fingered gesture of contempt, his strange mouth wide and disdainful.
Evie and Daniels are left alone on the towpath with their rescuer.
‘Thank you,’ Daniels says.
‘Ah, think nothing of it – they’re jest a set a bleedin’ cowards, pickin’ on the weak.’ He tucks the gun inside his jacket. ‘Shem they didn’t make a fight of it, it’d have been an excuse to clean out a rats’ nest and I’d have enjoyed dropping thet skinny twat in the canal. Yur Iz’s old man, ain’t yur? I saw yer over last night. You should know we lek after our own ‘ere.’
He begins to walk away, then stops and turns. ‘Oh, by the way if yur in the mood, come to the yard behind the Pissin’ Pig at noon.’ He points beyond a barrier constructed from dented car panels and driftwood blocking the path ahead, with a narrow way through hinged like a pair of gates.
‘Tell ‘em yer with Billy,’ the man shouts after them. ‘A geezer frum Wulthamstow with a bulldog the size of an ox is fancyin’ it aginst all comers.’
‘What was the matter with his face?’ Evie asks, as soon as she and Daniels are on their own.
‘Yeah, it wasn’t too pretty.’
‘Did someone do it to him?’
‘More likely born that way. A birth defect caused by toxins in the water from all the plastic and other rubbish. No wonder no one lives as long as they used to.’
They pass under a sign dangling from a lead pipe: YOU ARE ENTERING LEA RIVER ESTATE – WHITES ONLY. Evie looks at Daniels for an explanation but he huddles down into his coat as if he is trying to make himself as small as possible.
‘What does—?’
‘Evie, don’t say anything,’ he murmurs. ‘Just keep walking.’
11
In the distance a pair of enormous metal frames loom over the trees, the sharp morning light, now that the mist has cleared, jabbing between the iron pillars and struts.
‘They’re old gas holders,’ Daniels says. ‘It’s how they used to store energy. Iz’s place is on the right.’
His daughter lives in what appears to be a semi-abandoned block where the canal joins the river. They cross to the entrance through a patchwork of bare allotments, the icy clodded soil caked with snow. He helps Evie up the internal stairs, letting her pause on the landings.
‘Does she know who I am?’ Evie asks, on the last but one, as she lets her energy level stabilise before the final set.
‘She knew of you, but it was a long time ago, and she’s probably forgotten.’
She shuffles along the last stretch of corridor and holds onto the wall as Daniels knocks on his daughter’s door. From the other side they hear the scuttle of rapid footsteps.
It swings open in a rush. ‘At last,’ the woman says, ‘I thought something…’ Her voice fades, as she takes in that her father has returned.
‘I’m sorry Iz, but it’s an emergency. I’ll explain inside.’
His daughter remains in the doorway but does not prevent them from squeezing past.
‘You came with Troy?’ Iz asks. Her face is expressive of her efforts to make sense of things. ‘Where is he now?’
‘We’re on our own,’ Daniels says.
Evie glances from one to the other. There are two conversations going on and neither father nor daughter seem aware.
Iz pays attention to Evie for the first time. ‘So, you brought “it”,’ she says, then, glaring at Daniels, ‘what do you mean you’re on your own – where is he?’
‘Where is who?’
‘Troy,’ she shouts. ‘Where is Troy?’ Tears leak from her eyes and she wipes at them angrily. ‘I’ve been waiting here for hours, not knowing what was going on. You have no idea what I’ve been through. These people are not to be messed with. Is he with the hova?’
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about,’ Daniels replies, ‘but I’m sure everything is fine. Evie needs to rest. Can she use your back room?’
Iz drops onto a stained two-person sofa, knocking aside a low table. ‘I don’t understand,’ she mutters, ‘first he doesn’t answer calls and now you’re here…’ She tries to think things through, fiddling agitatedly with the cuffs of her all-in-one.
‘Iz,’ Daniels says, ‘we’ll sort it out. There’ll be a simple explanation.’ He turns to Evie. ‘I’ll show you where you can go.’
He leads her down a narrow passage crowded with coats into a box room just wide enough for a narrow bed. A large holdall fills the remaining floor. Evie squeezes around it and peers out through a grimy window onto a fire escape. Beyond are a pair of canal locks, the river slopping over swollen gates held together by rusting iron plates.
She undoes her wet coat and passes it to Daniels who hangs it on a hook. She then sits on the bed and pulls off her hat and unwinds her scarf, releasing her hair, which unfolds flatly over her shoulders.
Daniels takes out her transformer and cable from his backpack and plugs it into the socket beneath the wardrobe. He passes her the cable. Past considerations of propriety, she lifts her jumper in front of him and peels back a strip of skin below the jut of her ribs to expose a gold-plated socket and twists it clock-wise to lock. She hasn’t charged herself in this way for years and the sudden rush of electricity, stronger than through the wireless arrangement in the apartment, kicks her in the spine, sharply lifting her chin.
For ten or more seconds she remains seated stiffly, eyes closed, letting the power flood through. Then her body slumps.
Daniels lifts her legs onto the mattress and props a pillow under her head. He raises her heels, removing her wet shoes. Finding a nanoflec blanket on top of the wardrobe, he draws the lightweight gauzy material over her feet to her waist. These gestures are unnecessary for her comfort but the kindness underpinning them warms her from within.
‘You’re safe,’ he says quietly. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be with Iz. Nothing will happen to you here.’ He gazes down at her face and she opens her eyes and smiles back, the electricity coursing through her inducing a trance-like grin.
Something is not right, Simon says, as soon as they are alone.
I know, she mutters, wishing to put herself under, but reluctantly staying with it, listening to Daniels return to the other room.
‘What has happened?’ Iz demands as he enters. The walls are so thin, it is as if he and his daughter are only just outside the door.
‘What do you mean?’
Evie hears the spark of Iz’s lighter and her breathe out. A chair creaks.
‘Where is he?’ she asks.
‘Where is who?’
‘Don’t play games with me.’ An ashtray scrapes across the coffee table. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I went back to the apartment—’