silent as need be

Rain battered down. A give-and-take. They walked side-by-side, silent as need be. They crossed Kilbowie Road, watching for traffic, listening for the haunting sounds of sirens. So frightened of the unexpected and of the near and far.  Angel knew what it was like when people got scared. How blind and violent they became.

Kimmie didn’t know the contours of the odd clumsy nowhere. How they butted out. In her dreams. In her house. In her room. Her face locked in a trembling grief. No matter how slow she travelled. The journey ahead was long and short, with one destination. That  feeling what it was like to hide under your bed and not breathe because your stepdad would find you—he’d found you easy as a dog smelling vomit and lapped it up—dragging you out of  yourself as if it was a game they regularly played. She didn’t know fear. The way it took over your throat and possessed your body. So playing dead was as natural as not breathing.

Kimmie had been small and round at school. Pudding-bowl hair with too many milk teeth like little needles that appeared when she smiled shyly. She hung around and waited to grow up and be invited into the girlish games they played, skipping ropes and tig. Angel had always been an ace at running. No one could catch her. Not even the boys. She’d squirm away from them and come out punching, kicking and biting. She didn’t bother with her classmates, but it got her back up when somebody like Jennifer Stewart started picking on Kimmie, because she could, because of who she was. She was older, taller and heavier than Angel, all straightened hair and lips gloss but she’d seen the fear in her eyes and admitted to herself she liked that bit too. She waited a week until Jennifer apologised to Kimmie before she’d let it go but she kept watching and waiting.

Kimmie mopped the top of her hair flat and flicked rainwater away with her twisted wrist. She broke away from Angel. Held up her sodden arm and shouted and waved. The black Hackney, a beacon of light slowed but changed gear with a throbbing noise and the diesel engine purred louder on the hill as it passed through puddles and disappeared around the Radnor Park Hotel.

 Angel tugged her elbow back from the edge of the pavement. ‘Whit yeh daeing?’

Kimmie whined, ‘Whit dae yeh think I’m daeing? Trying tae get us a taxi.’

Angel turned and walked fast past the side entrance of the Health Centre and down the hill, but waited until Kimmie caught up with her. ‘Ur yeh fucking crazy?’ she said ‘We’re trying tae keep a low profile. And yeh want tae get a taxi tae drop yeh aff? Yeh might as well gie the police yer name and address.’

Kimmie tottered along beside lifting her chin. ‘I never though aw that. But my feet ur killing me.’

She tried to fix the impossible height of the heels strapped to her childishly small feet but after a few steps gave up and hung onto Angel’s arm.

Angel tried to make light of it. ‘We’ve nae money for taxis, anyway.’

Kimmie chuckled. ‘Well, I’ve got about a quid. And so huv you?’

She pulled her arm away from Kimmie. ‘Yeh holding oot on me? Where’d yeh get a pound fae?’

Kimmie shook her head. ‘Doesnae matter. Don’t be so fucking daft. I thought yeh were meant to be psychic, or something?’ She rambled on in increasingly aggrieved tone. ‘I mean, I heard about yeh finding that passport. And aw that money for that daft woman.’

Angel tried to explain, then stopped.

Kimmie pressed forward her advantage. ‘But how come yeh didnae know that guy was gonnae try and rape yeh? And put us aw in the fucking shit?... Listen, if it wasnae for me, yeh’d be locked up noo.’

 Angel couldn’t listen to any more. She walked towards the High School, where a man was walking his dog, waving a red umbrella, turning inside out in high winds.

Kimmie caught up and hooked onto her arm without speaking for a few minutes. She sniggered, ‘I mean yeh could even see the funny side. Yeh, crowning him wae a fucking lighter shaped like a dove.’

‘I didnae find it funny, Kimmie. The good thing about yeh, is it’s always about you. Naebody else matters. There’s nae great pretence, like there is wae o’er folk. It’s always aboot me, me, me. I guess like yer honesty. At least I know where I stand wae you.’

Kimmie cut in. ‘I’m no like that. It’s jist yeh  always hud it easy. Aw the boys chasing yeh. Trying tae attract yer attention. Daeing handstauns. Hanging on yer every word. But I’ve always been there for yeh. No matter whit.’

‘Yeh, huvenae been there Kimmie. Yeh huv been there for you. But yer right. I’ve no been the best aw friends. And maybe I huv taken yeh for granted.’

‘Too right.’

‘Yeh got me oot a hole the night. Honestly I’m grateful.’

‘And so yeh should be.’

‘And yeh asked me if I was psychic? Well, let me put it this way. Yeh didnae need tae be Uri Geller tae know that guy was an evil bastard. And I told yeh that at least three times. I told yeh, I didnae want tae go tae nae party. But yeh begged me. And against my  better judgement, I went alang wae yeh.’ 

Kimmie butts in. ‘So yer saying it’s my fault again?’

Angel held up a hand to let her finish. ‘No, I’m no saying that.’

‘Sounds very like it, tae me.’

‘It was both our fault.’

‘Whit kinda shite’s that?’

‘OK, it was my fault. Totally, my fault.’

Kimmie sniffed and wiped at her nose. ‘Too right.’

‘But I know, stauning right here and noo, yer gonnae screw me up at least three times.’

They waited for the guy pulling the dog and pushing on the umbrella to pass before Kimmie answered. ‘I’d never let yeh doon. Ne’er. Get that thought right oot yer heid.’