to him. ‘Um, sorry, I don’t think I want to give you my number actually,’ she said. ‘I’ve decided that drugs aren’t for me.’
‘Don’t be a tease,’ Stephen said, closing his fingers round both his phone and Pip’s hand. He leaned into her.
‘No, thank you,’ she said, scooting back. ‘Think I’m going to go inside.’
And then Stephen put his hand on the back of her head, grabbed her forward and lunged for her face. Pip twisted out of the way and shoved him back. She pushed so hard that he was deseated and fell three feet from the garden wall, sprawled on the wet grass.
‘You stupid slut,’ he said, picking himself up and wiping off his trousers.
‘You degenerate, perverted, reprobate ape. Sorry, apes,’ Pip shouted back. ‘I said no.’
That was when she realized. She didn’t know how or when it had happened, but she looked up and saw that they were now alone in the garden.
Fear flushed through her in an instant, her skin bristling with it.
Stephen climbed back over the wall and Pip turned, hurrying towards the door.
‘Hey, it’s OK, we can talk for a bit more,’ he said, grabbing her wrist to pull her back.
‘Let me go, Stephen.’ She spat the words at him.
‘But –’
Pip grabbed his wrist with her other hand and squeezed, digging her nails into his skin. Stephen hissed and let go and Pip did not hesitate. She ran towards the house and slammed the door, flicking the lock behind her.
Inside, she wound her way through the crowd on the makeshift Persian-rug dance floor, being jostled this way and that. She searched through the flailing body parts and sweaty laughing faces. Searching for the safety of Cara’s face.
It was musty and hot, inside the crush of all these bodies. But Pip was shaking, an aftershock of cold quaking through her, knocking her bare knees.
Pippa Fitz-Amobi
EPQ 03/10/2017
Production Log – Entry 22
Update: I waited in my car for four hours tonight. At the far end of the station car park. I checked, no cameras. Three separate waves of commuters getting in from London Marylebone came and went, Dad among them. Luckily he didn’t spot my car.
I didn’t see anyone hanging around. No one who looked like they were there to buy or sell drugs. Not that I really know what that looks like; I never would have guessed Andie Bell was the kind.
Yes, I know I managed to get Howie Bowers’ number from Stephen-the-creep. I could just ring Howie and see whether he’d be willing to answer some questions about Andie. That’s what Ravi thinks we should do. But – let’s be real – he’s not going to give me anything that way. He’s a drug dealer. He’s not going to admit it to a stranger on the phone like he’s casually discussing the weather or trickle-down economics.
No. The only way he’ll talk to us is if we have the appropriate leverage first.
I’ll return to the station tomorrow evening. Ravi has work again, but I can do this alone. I’ll just tell my parents I’m doing my English coursework over at Cara’s house. The lying gets easier the more I have to do it.
I need to find Howie.
I need this leverage.
I also need sleep.
Persons of Interest
Jason Bell
Naomi Ward
Secret Older Guy
Nat da Silva
Daniel da Silva
Max Hastings
Drug dealer – Howie Bowers?
Nineteen
Pip was thirteen chapters in, reading by the harsh silver light from the torch on her phone, when she noticed a lone figure crossing under a street lamp. She was in her car, parked down the far end of the station car park, every half-hour marked with the screech and growl of London or Aylesbury-bound trains.
The street lamps had flickered on about an hour ago, when the sun had retreated, staining Little Kilton a darkening blue. The lights were that buzzy orange-yellow colour, illuminating the area with an unsettling industrial glow.
Pip squinted against the window. As the figure passed under the light, she saw it was a man in a dark green jacket with a furred hood and bright orange lining. His hood was up over a mask made of shadows, with only a downward-lit triangle nose for a face.
She quickly switched off her phone torch and put Great Expectations down on the passenger seat. She shifted her own seat back so she could crouch on the car floor, hidden from sight by the door, the top of her head and her eyes pressed up against the window.
The man walked over to the very outer boundary of the car