Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,52
eventually. I just nodded. “I think we should risk using the phone. Get a taxi.”
“No way. They’ll trace it. It’ll be the end, Spider.”
“What else can we do? We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere here.”
“I dunno — but they’ll be waiting for us to use the phone, won’t they?”
He dropped the cigarette butt and ground it under his foot. “I’m hungry, Jem. I’m cold.”
“I know. Me, too.”
We lit another smoke and passed it back and forth, a small comfort in an otherwise bleak world. After a couple of minutes, we heard a car crunching down the drive behind us. We looked at each other. No time to move on, no point, really. A massive four-wheel drive thing came ’round the corner. They hit the brakes when they saw us, then drove around us. I could see the driver as the car went past — a woman, early thirties maybe, quite polished, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a bit of toast held in her mouth like a beak. There were a couple of kids in the back. They looked like dolls strapped into that massive car.
The woman looked at us — surprised, wary, a bit angry, maybe — then drove up to the junction and turned left out onto the road. A few feet down, she stopped and reversed until she was level with us. The front passenger window went down and she took the toast out of her mouth and leaned across.
“Are you waiting for someone?” The voice was sharp, like she was accusing us of something. The crime of being strangers. The crime of being young.
Spider held his hand up. “We just need a lift. Into town.” He was busking it now — neither of us knew if there was a town nearby, or where it might be.
She looked at us doubtfully, her mouth a thin, tight line.
“Right. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” The window went up again and the car set off.
“Bitch,” I said. Spider nodded and took another drag.
Ten feet along the road the car stopped again and reversed. This time another car was coming up behind, and its horn blasted as it overtook her. The window came down.
“You’d better get in,” she said briskly. “I’m going into town. Put your bags in the back. One of you will have to go in the back, in the middle.”
Spider and I exchanged glances, then he opened the trunk and slung in the bags. I pulled open the back passenger door. The kids were staring wide-eyed, like their mum had lost her marbles. I tried not to look them in the eye — I can’t stand that, seeing kids’ numbers. Gets to me. They were in posh uniforms — blazers, shirts, and ties, you know the sort of thing — and they were looking at me like I was some sort of alien.
“Um…’scuse me…can I just…?”
The boy, sitting nearest to me, swiveled his legs to the side and leaned back into his seat. I clambered past him and settled in the middle. The little girl, on the other side, shrank away from me.
Spider had closed the trunk and was up front now. “Thanks, thanks, really appreciate it. It’s cool, it’s cool. Nice car. Great. Cool. Cool.” His head was nodding in appreciation. I wanted him to shut up, not to sound too crazy. “This is really good of you. It’s fucking freezing out there.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath from the boy. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him, eyes like saucers, mouth open. The woman spoke very slowly, carefully.
“Listen, I’m happy to give you a lift, but not if you’re going to swear. We don’t do that in this car.”
Spider clapped his hand to his mouth. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. No offense, lady. Alright, kids?” He turned around, flashing them a smile. “It’s not cool to use those words, is it? Not cool.”
I thought I heard a little squeak from the girl. I glanced at her. She was absolutely terrified. Quite possibly wetting herself. She’d probably never even seen a black man, let alone a six-foot-four, foulmouthed black dosser. I guess you could find him intimidating at the best of times, but after a couple of days on the run and sleeping rough, he was a bit of a sight.
Spider’s nerves were getting the better of him. He just couldn’t stop. “It’s very good of you. To stop for us. Very good.”
“That’s all right.” You could tell now