Gary McMahon: The Concrete Grove

“Thanks,” she said. Her voice was dry and croaky. She lurched upright, holding on to him for support. Her grip was tight, her fingers digging into his biceps. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. Let’s just get you on your feet.” Tom was painfully aware of his bare legs, his ridiculous running shorts and the T-shirt with the silly logo that said “If Lost, Return to the Beer Tent.” For some reason he wanted to impress this teenage girl, to make her feel safe. She invoked a strange paternal instinct that took him by surprise as well as a faint erotic charge: a curious set of feelings that he had not realised he was capable of experiencing.

“I’m okay,” she said, still leaning against him. He prayed that he didn’t get an erection, and deliberately ignored the sight of her thighs, visible through the rips in her tights.

Still sweating, but now for a different reason, Tom led the girl over to a low garden wall. She sat down, finally relinquishing her grip on his upper arm, and rubbed her face with her hands. She had a long, graceful neck. The top three buttons of her blouse were undone.

Stop , thought Tom. Just stop it.

“Are you… are you injured?” He kept his distance, still feeling silly in his shorts and T-shirt.

The girl looked down at herself, seeming to inspect her body for signs of damage. “No. I don’t think so.”

“What happened? Were you attacked? Mugged? Did they take anything?” Tom licked his lips. His throat was dry.

“I dunno. I think I just passed out, like. Fainted. You know?”

Tom nodded. But he didn’t know; he didn’t have the slightest clue as to why a healthy young girl might faint. “Are you ill, or something? Is that why you passed out?”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t know why it happened. It just did. I was walking around near the Needle, next thing I know I’m waking up here.” She smiled, but it looked forced, as if she were trying to convince him of something.

“The Needle? That’s all the way over there, isn’t it?” Tom turned his head due north, raised a hand to point but dropped it before it even reached waist level. Everybody knew where the tower block was; it was visible from just about everywhere on the estate.

“I know. Weird, eh?” She smiled again. “What did you say your name was?”

“Tom. Tom Stains. I’ve been running…” He glanced down at his legs, lifting his arms away from his body in an almost apologetic manner.

“Yeah. Whatever.” She glanced along the street, dismissing him.

“What’s your name? I should take you home; get you back safe and sound to your parents.” God, he sounded like an old man.

“I’m Hailey. I live a few streets away. I’ll be fine.” She pushed away from the wall, but stumbled a little. Steadying herself, she grinned. “Or maybe not.”

“Come on, Hailey, let’s get you home. I’m sure your parents will be worried.” He took a step towards her but did not touch her. It wasn’t appropriate, not now. She could walk by herself, unaided, and if he grabbed her she might get the wrong idea — or he might.

“Mum. It’s just me and Mum. But, yes, she will be worried. She worries about me all the time round here. It’s not like where we used to live.” She turned and began to walk along the street, her strides slow and uncertain.

“I see.” Tom fell into step alongside her, ready to catch her if she stumbled but not willing to offer his arm unless she asked. “Just you and your mother, eh?” Something turned inside him, like a key in a lock or a tumbler falling into place: some hidden mechanism within the chambers of his heart. Tom didn’t believe in fate or destiny, he clung to no god. But there was something about these events, a sense that the picture was not what it seemed. Beneath the surface, under the façade of reality, something was happening, changes were taking place.

Unbeliever that he was, Tom was confused to think that the steps he was taking now were in fact the beginning of some kind of journey. The destination was unclear, the aim unknowable, but he had willingly taken a turn off the beaten track and allowed himself to be led astray.

Somehow these thoughts failed to trouble him. In fact, he felt more alive than he had in years. Tom couldn’t remember the last time he had embarked upon anything that might be considered an adventure.

NIGHT WAS FALLING in slow shades as they walked along Grove End, past the dark hulk of the primary school, and headed towards the Grove Court flats. The long nights were drawing in. It would soon be Christmas. Tom hated Christmas.

He was so aware of Hailey strolling along at his side that he could think of nothing else, not even the things he hated. He knew that Helen would be expecting him home to prepare dinner, but he could barely even picture her face. All he could see was the girl.

Tom realised that after the initial near-sexual thrill he’d experienced his feelings towards Hailey had faded to something more like fatherly concern. The girl was in some kind of trouble, that much was certain. He didn’t believe her story about fainting and not knowing how she came to be lying unconscious at the side of the road, half a mile away from where she’d been roaming.

“Just down here,” she said, as if she were deliberately trying to break into his thoughts. She turned, smiled, and then faced forward again. Her strides were now long and even. She seemed much more in control than when he’d first found her. Perhaps he should just leave her here, close to home, and be on his way?

No. If she had been accosted, as he suspected, that would be a foolish thing to do. She was a young girl and it was growing dark. He was duty-bound to accompany her at least to her front door.

There was also the voice at the back of his mind, the soft, purring one that suggested if the girl was this pretty, then her mother must be beautiful. There was no father around, and she might be so grateful that she invited him in for coffee…

Tom laughed softly.

“What’s wrong?” Hailey glared at him, her blue eyes flashing in the growing dimness. “What you laughing at?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was nothing. Just a silly thought I had, that’s all.” He smiled at her and hoped that she couldn’t see through his mask.

Hailey coughed, and then glanced slowly around, as if she were looking for someone. “I don’t like it here. The closer you get to the centre, the weirder it feels. Don’t you feel it? It’s like something in the air — a gas, or something.”

Tom was confused. He didn’t know what she wanted him to say. “This is a run-down area. There are people here who you don’t want to meet after dark. That’s all.”

Several lights had come on in the front rooms of houses and flats. Television light shuddered like a submarine’s lamps through thin curtains. Tom knew what the girl meant. This was a strange place, especially after dark. That was why he didn’t like coming here, why he wished he could run the other way… any way, just not deeper into the estate.

They turned right onto Grove Mount and then crossed the road. There were two cars parked alongside each other at the mini roundabout at the end of the street, young drivers leaning out of the side windows to make some kind of exchange. Tom thought it was probably a drugs deal, but it could be something worse. He’d heard rumours of all kinds of things changing hands down here, and lethal weapons being given to kids who were stupid and desperate enough to use them.

“Which number is yours?” He tore his gaze away from the illicit transaction — although, part of him reasoned, it couldn’t be that illicit if it was being carried out in plain view. Another, more cynical voice replied: it’s more a case of nobody giving a damn . The air was turning cold, and his legs prickled with gooseflesh.