For an instant she doubted that she was simply remembering: the feeling was so clear; so real. Then she had no doubts.
She stood up, the bedsprings creaking. It wasn’t memory at all.
He was here.
58
“Flynn?”
“Hello.” The voice at the other end of the line was gruff with sleep. “Who is this?”
“It’s Marty. Have I woken you up?”
“What the hell do you want?”
“I need some help.”
There was a long silence at the other end of the phone.
“Are you still there?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
“I need heroin.”
The gruffness left the voice; incredulity replaced. it.
“You on it?”
“I need it for a friend.” Marty could sense the smile spreading on Flynn’s face. “Can you get me something? Quickly.”
“How much?”
“I’ve got a hundred quid.”
“It’s not impossible.”
“Soon?”
“Yeah. If you like. What time is it now?” The thought of easy money had got Flynn’s mind oiled and ready to go. “One-fifteen? OK.” He paused for calculations. “You come around in about three-quarters of an hour.”
That was efficient; unless, as Marty suspected, Flynn was involved with the market so deeply he had easy access to the stuff: his jacket pocket, for instance.
“I can’t guarantee, of course,” he said just to keep the desperation simmering. “But I’ll do my best. Can’t say fairer than that, can I?”
“Thanks,” Marty replied. “I appreciate this.”
“Just bring the cash, Marty. That’s all the appreciation I need.”
The phone went dead. Flynn had a knack of getting the last word in. “Bastard,” Marty said to the receiver, and slammed it down. He was shaking slightly; his nerves were frayed. He slipped into a newsstand, picked up a packet of cigarettes, and then got back into the car. It was lunchtime; the traffic in the middle of London would be thick, and it would take the best part of forty-five minutes to get to the old stamping ground. There was no time to go back and check on Carys. Besides, he guessed she wouldn’t have thanked him for delaying his purchase. She needed dope more than she needed him.
The European appeared too suddenly for Carys to hold his insinuating presence at bay. But weak as she felt, she had to fight. And there was something about this assault that was different from others. Was it that he was more desperate in his approach this time? The back of her neck felt physically bruised by his entrance. She rubbed it with a sweating palm.
I found you, he said in her head.
She looked around the room for a way to drive him out.
No use, he told her.
“Leave us alone.”
You’ve treated me badly, Carys. I should punish you. But I won’t; not if you give me your father. Is that so much to ask? I have a right to him. You know that in your heart of hearts. He belongs to me.
She knew better than to trust his coaxing tones. If she found Papa, what would he do then? Leave her to live her life? No; he would take her too, the way he’d taken Evangeline and Toy and only he knew how many others; to that tree, to that Nowhere.
Her eyes came to rest on the small electric cooker in the corner of the room. She got up, her limbs jangling, and walked unsteadily across to it. If the European had caught wind of her plan, then all the better. He was weak, she could sense it. Tired and sad; one eye on the sky for kites, his concentration faltering. But his presence was still distressing enough to muddy her thought processes. Once she reached the cooker she could hardly think of why she was there. She pressed her mind into higher gear. Refusal! That was it. The cooker was refusal! She reached out and turned on one of the two electric rings.
No, Carys, he told her. This isn’t wise.
His face appeared in her mind’s eye. It was vast, and it blotted out the room around her. She shook her head to rid herself of him, but he wouldn’t be dislodged. There was a second illusion too, besides his face. She felt arms around her: not a stranglehold, but a sheltering embrace. They rocked her, those arms.