Outside (Outside Series #1)

  ‘I think this is going to be an expensive visit,’ he says, drawing half-a- dozen silver bits from his pocket to grease more palms.

  Finally we’re in.

  Chapter Eleven

  Riley

  *

  Once inside, the stench triples in awfulness and the place looks like nothing I’ve ever seen. The Compound’s inner entrance doors open up onto a long street, lined with busy shops and eateries. Above these, precarious-looking flats jut out all higgledy piggledy in various styles. No cars clog the roads, just pedestrians, horses and an imaginative array of non-motorised vehicles: push bikes with home-made trailers, wooden carts, covered wagons and people-powered rickshaws.

  In front of the cosmopolitan shop facades, a vibrant street market is in full flow, packed with stall holders and shoppers. I don’t think I can recall ever seeing so much activity and so many people together in one place. I feel a little overwhelmed and have to stop to take several deep breaths.

  ‘You okay?’ Luc asks, as I tug on his hand for him to stop.

  ‘I just need a few seconds.’

  ‘Here, sit down and put your head between your knees for a minute.’ He guides me over to the side of the road, behind a cake stall and squats down, patting the ground next to him. I sit and take a few swigs of water. After a minute or two, I feel slightly less giddy.

  I realise Luc has his arm around my shoulders. It feels good. Reassuring. Eventually, I compose myself and recover enough to stand.

  ‘Take your time.’ Luc rubs my arm and smiles into my eyes.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I feel like such a lightweight. But the noise and heat; the smells. There are so many people. It’s amazing, but it freaked me out a bit.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I should have warned you what to expect. I didn’t even think. You’ve never been outside before have you?’

  ‘You kind of just assume it will be the same as home. The Perimeter is so peaceful and calm. This is great but it’s a bit intimidating, seeing all these people in one place.’

  Vendors shout at the top of their voices and buyers haggle over produce with pretended indifference. There are fruit and vegetables in varying stages of freshness, great mountains of autumn-coloured grain, unappetising fly-covered meat, sweets, cakes, biscuits, home-made and second-hand clothing, skittish livestock, toys and crockery. Fire-eaters, jugglers, dancers and fortune tellers jostle for space. Now I’m over my panic attack, I’m hypnotised by it all.

  ‘Is it like this all the time?’ I ask Luc.

  ‘Every Saturday, darlin',’ an elderly street vendor standing next to me replies. ‘Where you from then?’

  ‘Just visiting,’ Luc says. He grabs my elbow and propels me forward into the throng.

  ‘I’ll mind me own business then shall I?’ The vendor goes back to crying his wares.

  The main Charminster Road has smaller roads leading off it, which appear to be residential with a mixture of run-down houses and slightly larger apartment blocks. Some of the roads have been converted into small strips of farmland, with narrow paths running in front of the houses to allow access. There are penned animals, garden produce and crops, all patch-worked along into the distance.

  Most plots have someone on guard, but it’s quite a laid-back affair. A man lounges on a garden chair, chatting to his neighbour, a rifle lying at his feet. The crop-carpeted roads give the overall impression of a quaint rural village and, from what I can see, most of the residents seem to be very cheerful and friendly. I could spend hours wandering the streets, sightseeing. It’s a huge and fascinating settlement, but the vastness of the place is going to make finding Chambers’ accommodation very difficult.

  ‘We’ll have to ask someone where he lived.’ I state the obvious.

  ‘Yeah. We need to find someone.’

  I get a sudden surge of bravery. ‘Excuse me.’ I turn to a girl my age who strolls past, biting into a toffee apple. ‘Sorry, do you know where I could find Ron Chambers’ place?’

  ‘The electrician?’

  ‘That’s right,’ I reply, not believing she actually knows who I’m talking about.

  ‘Haven’t you heard?’ she says. ‘He’s not here anymore. I think he was arrested. Not sure though. He used to live with the other trades on Porchester Road, D’you know it?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘It’s down there.’ She points back down the road. ‘Northumberland Mansions. They’ll definitely have reallocated his apartment by now though.’

  ‘Thanks very much.’ I smile.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ She gives us a curious stare before turning off down a side street and disappearing.

  ‘Cool, Riley.’ Luc punches my arm.

  Northumberland Mansions is a large ugly brown block, reserved purely for skilled trades people and their families. It sits on a wide tree-lined road and is probably quite a prestigious place to live. Close enough to the main road and the main gates, but far enough away not to be disturbed by the noise of the street market. Litter covers the pavement though and there’s dog shit everywhere.

  Luc says I should speak on the intercom, as a girl’s voice is less intimidating. We stand in a urine and cabbage-smelling foyer and buzz a few numbers until someone answers. The woman on the other end confirms Chambers has left the compound, but that he used to live in apartment 26B. I duly press the bell for 26B and a man’s voice answers.

  ‘Hello,’ he says.

  ‘Hi, my name’s Riley. Can I speak to you for a few minutes?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Riley. I wonder if I could speak to you.’

  ‘Dunno any Riley. You need to go through the committee if you want an electrician.’ The intercom squeals and then goes dead.

  ‘Offer him some cigarettes,’ suggests Luc.

  I press the bell again and put Luc’s offer to him.

  ‘Fifth floor. Come on up.’

  We jog up the dim airless flights of stairs until we finally reach the fifth floor and push open an opaque glass door at the top of the stairs. I scrutinise the flat numbers listed on the wall and Luc points to a short, dark corridor on our left. There at the end we see a man peering out from behind his door, with 26B in dull gold lettering on it. He has the chain across and eyes us warily as we approach.

  ‘What do you want then?’

  We briefly explain the reason for our visit, saying Chambers is wanted for murder and we’re here to see if he’s left anything behind that might give us a clue to his whereabouts.

  ‘Who are you then, the Munchkin Army? No offence, but you look a bit young to be playing detective.’

  ‘He killed my sister,’ I say quietly, starting to loathe this rude man.

  He doesn’t reply for a while. Just stares, as if sizing us up.

  ‘Come on, Riley,’ says Luc. ‘We’re obviously wasting our time. We should go.’ He turns, as if to make his way back to the staircase.

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ says the man. ‘Got those smokes you were talking about?’

  Luc produces a packet of cigarettes from his rucksack and holds them out for the man to see.

  ‘Blimey, those look like the real thing? Where’d you get those? Better not ask eh?’ He closes the door and I hear the sound of the chain sliding across.

  The door opens again, without the chain, and a middle-aged man stands before us wearing a pair of almost indecently threadbare red nylon football shorts and a matching vest. His large white hairy belly protrudes from a gap between the two items of clothing. He pats it.

  ‘Maybe I can start to lose some of this now I’m on the fifth floor with no bloody lift.’ Luc passes the cigarettes across and the man steps aside. ‘Okay, come through then, but no funny business. I’m watching the pair of you.’

  We follow him in and stand awkwardly in his entrance hall. I ask if he’ll let us have a quick look around the apartment.

  ‘Got any more of those ciggies?’ he asks, eyeing Luc’s rucksack.

  Luc raises
his eyebrows at me and I reluctantly nod. He produces another packet and hands them to the man.

  ‘You beauty.’ He grins at Luc and claps him on the shoulder. ‘Mi casa es tu casa’ he says cheerily, in bad Italian. ‘But I’ll come round with you, don’t want you rooting through me underwear drawer do I?’ He raises his eyes at me, as if to imply I’d enjoy doing such a gross thing.

  I shudder.

  ‘Just moved in last week. Bloody lovely place. Clean white walls, wood floors. Can’t believe my luck. Didn’t find anything out of the ordinary though. Can’t believe you’re telling me the bloke’s a murderer; that’s a bit creepy. I’m a sparky, new to the area. Ever need anything electrical doing, just talk to the committee and I’ll give you a good deal.’

  We follow him around the flat. There’s a large lounge, two double bedrooms, an adequate kitchen and a shower room. It’s a lovely, airy apartment, simple and clean with high ceilings and, best of all, no horrible smell.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ I say. ‘We’re not going to find anything.’

  ‘You done now?’ asks the man, as we follow him back into the hallway. He looks as though he’s about to say something, but then he closes his mouth again and gives a tight-lipped smile. ‘Well, cheers for the smokes.’

  We leave his apartment and make our way back down the five flights of stairs. We’re about half way down when we hear an echoing voice.

  ‘Oi, you two!’

  I glance up to see the man’s round face peering down at us. We turn around and head back up the stairs. When we reach the top, he’s got a strange expression on his face and he’s chewing his lower lip.

  ‘There was this one thing,’ he says.

  Luc and I glance at each other and then turn back to look at the man, waiting expectantly. I feel a surge of hope.

  Chapter Twelve

  Riley

  *

  I wonder what this man’s going to tell us. Could it be something that will lead us to Chambers?

  ‘I found something,’ he says.

  ‘What?’ Luc says.

  ‘I found it down the side of the sofa.’

  I look sideways at Luc. He raises his eyes at the man.

  ‘A lighter. I found a lighter,’ the man says.

  Something stirs in my memory, but I can’t quite remember. ‘Can I see it?’ I ask.

  ‘Um.’ He seems reluctant, but finally concedes and pulls a silver lighter out of his pocket.

  I stare at it, puzzled. ‘That’s Pa’s lighter.’

  ‘Your old man’s? Yeah right.’

  ‘Check the bottom,’ I say confidently. ‘And you’ll see the initials JRC. My father’s initials.’ I wait.

  He looks at me and frowns. Then he peers at the underside of the lighter and his frown deepens. ‘Shoulda kept my mouth shut shouldn’t I. That’s a nice lighter that is.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, reaching out for it.

  ‘So.’ He smiles at me, showing yellow teeth. ‘What’s it worth?’ He makes no move to hand it over.

  ‘What?’ I splutter. Luc puts a warning hand on my arm and I turn to him in annoyed disbelief.

  ‘I’m sure you’ve got plenty of goodies in that bag of yours,’ the man says. ‘You can’t blame me. I’d be a prat to pass up an opportunity like this. Those smokes will sort me out big time. So come on, don’t be tight. A couple more packets and we’ll all be happy.’

  We do the deal and I finally have Pa’s lighter, feeling its warm weight in my hand.

  ‘Cheers,’ says the man, as he walks back into his apartment and closes the door without saying goodbye.

  What on earth was Pa’s lighter doing on Chambers’ sofa? It doesn’t make any sense. We leave the apartment block and step out onto the street.

  ‘Maybe Chambers was a thief,’ Luc muses, as we head back up Porchester Road towards the street market.

  ‘Must have been,’ I answer. ‘Otherwise, how else do you explain the lighter?’ It feels solid and reassuring in my hand, as if I have a piece of Pa. I imagine the lighter feeling pleased to have been returned to its family. Pa doesn’t smoke, but a lighter is a handy thing to have. I remember last month, Pa asking me if I’d seen it, but I didn’t pay much attention. Funny to think of it all the way over here. I click it, but it just sparks impotently.

  We hurry back through the street market, towards the car park. Nobody stops us as we pass through the exit door. I immediately spot the huge AV at the other end of the car park, which is just as well as neither of us had thought to take note of where we’d parked.

  Luc’s quiet. He seems annoyed.

  ‘Are you cross with me for making us come here?’ I ask.

  ‘No. No, course not,’ he replies. ‘I’m just annoyed at that bloke. We gave him way too much of our stash. I feel like an idiot.’

  ‘There was nothing else we could do. It’s only a few packs of cigarettes and we’ve got loads more.’

  ‘I suppose. We better get going. We can’t be anywhere near Ringwood when night falls.’

  ‘What about if we stay here until tomorrow?’ I say. ‘See if we can find any more people who knew Chambers. Maybe we’ll find out some other stuff about him.’

  ‘We could, but I think we’re too close to home and I don’t want to risk anyone recognising us. They’d probably be rewarded for taking us back.’

  ‘But who would recognise us?’

  ‘Any of the workers who come to our Perimeter. Some of the guards’ families live here too. Anybody really. That’s why I didn’t want to come here in the first place, but I understand why you wanted to. I just think we’re lucky no one’s spotted us yet. I don’t want to push it.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘It gets dark about half seven, eight. We need to go now. Once we get on the road we’ll be able to pick up some real speed.

  We head out of the compound and onwards to find the road.

  Luc was right about picking up speed once we hit the Wessex Way. It feels like we’re flying. The speedo now reads an impressive thirty five miles per hour, a massive improvement on the measly five to ten we’d gotten used to on the rough ground.

  The Wessex Way is a dual carriageway that used to be divided along its length by metal crash barriers. These have long since been removed and now the central reservation is choked with weeds, bushes and trees, so you can’t see the other side of the road. This suits us fine as we’re not keen to meet any other vehicles anyway. We pass nobody and, about three quarters of an hour later, we come to a huge roundabout.

  Luc brakes as we get closer and it’s a good thing he does, as three large army trucks rumble straight across our path and away, to our right. They don’t stop to give way to us or to check us out, thank goodness.

  ‘They’re heading to Ringwood,’ Luc says. ‘We’re going to be driving in that direction for a while, until we turn off north to Salisbury.’

  ‘Shall we wait a bit, so they get a good head start?’ I ask. ‘I don’t like the idea of driving right behind them.’

  ‘Definitely. It’s only four and it shouldn’t take more than an hour to get clear of Ringwood.’

  ‘Good,’ I reply.

  ‘I’m going to close my eyes for ten minutes.’ He yawns and stretches. ‘Keep a look out, Riley and wake me if you see anything.’

  He parks up on the grass verge and switches off the engine. My mind wanders over all we’ve seen this morning and I ponder the sheltered existence I’ve led.

  I try to imagine what Skye would have made of it all, sure she would have felt a lot braver than me in the same situation. She was always up for anything. I’m overcome with a wash of sadness that she’ll never have the opportunity to experience anything like this. I want to tell her all about it and see the look on her face as I describe the Charminster Compound, the horseman, everything.

  I study Luc’s sleeping face It’s so familiar. I’ve known him all my life, but he feels different to me now. We’re closer than we ever were before.

  I sudd
enly worry in case I’ve missed something on the road, or that Luc might wake to find me looking at him. That would be too mortifying to contemplate, so I quickly turn away and stare out of the windscreen. Nothing stirs in the hot afternoon and the AV is already starting to feel warm without the air con. I reach into my bag and take out some bottled water. I sip it slowly.

  Luc starts the engine, interrupting my thoughts.

  ‘Good sleep?’ I ask.

  ‘Mmm, a power nap,’ he says, stretching his hand out in front of him like Superman.

  ‘I can’t sleep in the daytime, it makes me irritable.’

  ‘Really? I feel great now. I so needed that snooze.’

  We cruise around the roundabout and take the last exit, the same one the soldiers’ trucks took. We’re heading towards Ringwood and I’m keeping my fingers tightly crossed that we don’t encounter any trouble from the riots. The reality of our vulnerability is starting to sink in.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eleanor

  *

  The next two weeks were life-altering for me. Connor and I stole every spare moment we could. My family wouldn’t have shown him such generous hospitality if they had known exactly how we were spending our time together. We couldn’t get enough of each other. While my parents and brothers were out working, we went off in Connor’s camper van and, as soon as we found a quiet place to park, we would close the curtains. There, in the illicit gloom, our minds and bodies became the source of endless fascination.

  ‘Ellie, you’re amazing.’ He kissed my arm, soft butterfly kisses that sent me half-mad and he wasn’t afraid to stare right into my eyes, unnerving me with his candour. I savoured every single word and every single kiss, memorising it all and storing it away to dissect and revel in later.

  He pushed me gently down onto the converted bed. ‘I feel like this is my real home - here with you,’ he said with a half-smile. ‘I know it sounds cheesy, but ... it’s how I feel.’

  ‘I know,’ I whispered, gazing up at him. ‘I just wish we could stay here and forget everyone else. I never want to have to go home.’

  ‘So let’s pretend there’s no outside. This is all there is.’ He leant over me so his dark fringe fell into his eyes. He lowered himself down and kissed me until I didn’t even know who I was anymore.