THE SIXTH GUEST: Chapter Four - Part Two

“You look cold.” Selina stopped in front of the girl and smiled at her, hands behind her back, head tilted to the side. “How’s the food?”

“Alright. A bit cold really.” The girl, whose name Selina couldn’t quite remember had a pink ankle length puffa coat wrapped tightly round the zig zag of her body, knees up under her chin, the disposable foil container for her free food as close to her mouth as she could hold it, spooning the food in through her lips. The coat looked second or third hand, scuffed and dirty, but it wasn’t. It had looked almost brand new when Selina had first seen her a couple of weeks earlier.

Hearing the girl’s voice helped Selina to tweek her own. She’d always been a mimic and the closer she could get her accent to match her “victim’s,” the better result she usually got. This time it was a soft private school daddy’s-girl voice. An exaggerated version of that was one of her more popular party pieces, so making her own dialect close to it wasn’t a problem. “I’m not that hungry at the moment. I’ve got a dicky tummy. Mind if I sit here though?” The girl shook her head. “How’s it going?” The name came back to her. “Megan, right?”

The girl brightened that she’d been remembered; that she had a personal connection in what was otherwise a pretty shitty life; but she still only shrugged.

“Not so good?”

“Not what I was expecting.”

“So why don’t you go back to your old life?” It was a risky question; quite the opposite of what Selina wanted, but it cut through the bullshit and got straight down to it.

Megan shrugged, a deep shrug that left her hunched shoulders up by her ears and seemed to say it all as far as she was concerned.

“What’s keeping you away?” asked Selina. Megan stared down into her food, spoon loose in her hand. “A bloke?”

“Sort of.”

“Boyfriend?”

“My stepdad.”

Despite herself, Selina’s jaw tightened. “What did he do to you?”

Megan shrugged again. “My mum... died.” Selina touched her shoulder and squeezed gently, only realising after she’d done it that it wasn’t part of the act. Selina hadn’t been so lucky with her own mum but she knew about loss. “It’s complicated.”

“It can get cold on the streets,” said Selina.

“Yeah.”

“And getting money together’s a nightmare. You don’t want to be living rough for the rest of your life, do you?”

“I thought it would be warm here,” said Megan. “We came to Bournemouth on holiday when I was in primary school.”

“It’s the sea wind,” replied Selina. “It’s a right fucking bitch.” Megan giggled. “What’s funny?”

“The way people talk around here. I didn’t know anybody who said stuff like that where I came from.”

Selina grinned. “Well you can do what you want now. You can say any fucking thing that crosses your mind and nobody can stop you. Am I right?”

“Yeah,” said Megan.

“But am I fucking right?”

Megan giggled. “Yeah. You’re fucking right.”

They both laughed. Selina held back for a moment, letting the camaraderie sink in. Over near the steps leading up past Mary Shelley’s grave into the woods at the back of the churchyard, Travis was dealing, one eye on her exchange with Megan. They shared a conspiratorial grin that Selina kept hidden from the girl but she needn’t have bothered. When she came back to the moment, the girl wasn’t even looking at her; she was staring straight up.

“Look at that!”

The clouds were close, almost touching the spire, the spotlight that illuminated the walls of the church accentuating the curves and grooves in the cloud. They were roiling, like the upside-down froth in a boiling cooking pot after a good stir, turning slowly. Selina hadn’t felt any wind – the air was quiet down on ground level, but powerful forces were at work up there. She’d never seen anything like it.

“Isn’t that weird?” said Megan.

“Yeah.”

“Like the clouds are circling.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think there’s going to be a storm?”

Selina gave a little shake of her head to say fucked if I know.

“Only I left my stuff stashed somewhere. Exposed. I don’t want it getting wet.”

“Yeah, about that...” said Selina. “I was thinking about a way that I could maybe help you out. Get you off the streets. Get a little money in your pockets.”

Megan looked sceptical; maybe even suspicious, but also hopeful. “Really?” It was that hope that was going to do it to her. Everyone hoped for something. It was a matter of finding out how that could be twisted in your favour.

“Sure,” said Selina. “I have a friend that—”

“Er, do you mind if we talk about this another time. Maybe tomorrow?” Megan looked up again at the bubbling sky. “I’m really sorry and I am interested but I can’t risk my stuff getting wet. Some of it belonged to my mum. I’ve got to find somewhere dry before it starts to rain.” She got to her feet awkwardly in her long coat.

Selina didn’t think it was going to rain. It was too warm for that. Freakish though this weather was there was no moisture in the air. But she was happy for Megan to go on now. The seed had been planted. That was enough. When she was tucked into a musty sleeping bag under a railway bridge at three in the morning, shivering and waiting for the sun to come up, she’d remember this conversation. When they spoke again she’d be ready.

“I do want to hear about it,” said Megan. “Could we meet up tomorrow?”

“Sure. You know where Asda is?”

“By the station?”

“Yeah. There’s a road opposite there. About three hundred yards down it on the right is a little park. I’ll meet you there at twelve.”

“Okay. Great. I’ll see you then.” Megan smiled full of that delicious hope and yearning friendship. She probably looked just the same as she did when she got her first merit badge. Selina smiled at her as she walked away, hoping her lips didn’t give away the fact she was smiling at her, not with her.

It wasn’t the victory she’d bragged she’d get to Travis but it was a definite maybe. She didn’t know what Megan’s stepdad had done – probably nothing serious – but this girl was only going back to that life if nothing else came along to keep her off the streets. All Selina had to do was make sure something did.

She walked across toward the steps where she’d last seen Travis. He wasn’t there now, had probably gone up into the woods, but he’d be easy enough to find and she still wanted to ask him her question, about the rape. Before she went under the cover of the trees she took another glance up at the sky, wondering if the girl had been right; if maybe a storm was coming. But it didn’t look like that. It was definitely odd and the wind in the trees was picking up but it didn’t look like rain.