The door was on the chain. A shirtless Keith peered through the gap.
‘Robbie,’ he said, scratching his belly. ‘Long time no see. To what do I owe the pleasure?’
I noticed that, despite the pleasantry, he didn’t remove the chain from its bolt.
‘Where is she?’ asked the man. He jammed his foot in the gap at the bottom of the door.
‘Don’t know.’ Keith stopped scratching. ‘Haven’t heard from her in ages.’
‘Don’t lie, fat boy.’ The man got in as close to Keith’s face as the gap in the door would allow. ‘I know you two. You’re thick as bloody thieves, always were.’ He thrust his hands in his jacket pockets. ‘I’m going to ask again and this time I want you to tell me the truth. Where is my wife?’
‘Like I said before, I don’t know.’ I heard the catch in Keith’s voice. He was trying to sound brave, but this man frightened him. I remembered what he’d said to me about the shop the first time I went in there. The cage was good because it meant no one could get back there to beat him up.
The man laughed, a half-hearted attempt at nonchalance.
‘I heard they let her have the kids back?’
Keith said nothing. The man tried again.
‘They’re my flesh and blood,’ he said, his indifference forgotten. ‘My son and daughter. I’ve got a right to see them.’
I wanted to keep listening, but I also didn’t want to be stuck here when the man finished. If Keith was frightened of this person, then I definitely should be. I tried to get up and creep away, back the way I’d come, but I’d been crouching on my haunches for too long and my muscles had seized. I fell onto the metal bin I was hiding behind and it moved forward on its castors, letting out a low rumble.
Spooked by the noise, the man stopped ranting and looked over in my direction.
I tried to scrabble back into my hiding place, but it was too late.
‘Who’s there?’ The man turned towards me and, as he did, he removed his foot from the gap. Keith took his chance and, with no interest in who or what might be lurking, slammed the door shut.
Realising what had happened, the man turned to the door and started to kick and punch the metal.
‘Fuck, fuck!’
It took seconds to realise his efforts were futile and then he returned his attention to where I was trying to get to my feet.
His face was churned up, gunning for a fight, but then as I came into view his expression changed to one of confusion. He looked me up and down and then his face relaxed, as though he’d had some kind of revelation.
‘Oi oi. What do we have here? Hello, sweetheart.’
Now upright, I started to back away.
‘You interrupted something very important just now.’
There was still at least ten feet between us, but he was trying to close the gap.
‘How about you make it up to me?’ He tugged at the front of his belt. ‘What’s the going rate these days?’
I started to run.
Far ahead was the rectangle of orange light that marked my exit. If I could just get to the street, there might be people. I’d be safe.
I heard him laugh, hard and loud, and then I heard the friction-swish of his arms pumping against the insulated fabric of his Puffa jacket. He was in pursuit.
I tried to break into a sprint but I kept banging into things, my ankles twisting on the tin cans and wrappers underfoot.
‘Don’t cock-tease,’ he shouted after me. ‘Not tonight. I’m not in the mood.’
I turned around, trying to see how far away he was, but as soon as I stopped looking where I was going, I crashed straight into an empty drum of vegetable oil. The momentum sent me careening towards the ground. I only just managed to right myself in time and was nearly at the end of the alley when my foot slipped on a cobble. I went over on my ankle and something sheared in my foot. The pain was white-hot but I couldn’t stop. He was gaining on me. Please let there be someone on the street, I prayed. Please let there be someone to help me.
I reached the pavement and, panting for breath, looked left and right. But the place was deserted. My car, I needed to get back to my car. I turned left and left again, back onto the high