Helen Black - Damaged Goods

‘Miriam, I need fifteen quid,’ came a familiar yell.

Lilly poked her head around the door. Jermaine stood on the stairs, his arms wrapped around him in his best gansta pose, glowering down at Miriam.

‘I’m not deaf, Jermaine,’ said Miriam.

‘I need fifteen quid,’ the boy repeated, almost as loudly.

‘For what?’ Miriam asked.

‘A haircut.’

Miriam pushed a stray braid behind her ear and laughed. ‘You must think I’m mad.’

‘Why?’ Jermaine shouted.

Miriam reached up, knocked off his hat and revealed his number-one cut. Jermaine kissed his teeth and disappeared.

‘Kelsey okay?’ asked Lilly.

‘The poor kid’s shattered. I don’t know why the hell they think she killed her mum.’

Lilly shrugged. ‘Most murders are by family members. Kelsey must have been pretty mad when her mum dumped her in here, so that gives her a motive.’

‘That’s not much to go on,’ Miriam said.

‘Which is why Jack’s buggered off,’ Lilly replied.

Miriam stepped out of her battered sandals and lowered herself into the chair next to Lilly. ‘Kelsey didn’t do it.’

Lilly passed over her bottle. ‘Who else has a motive?’

‘Come on, that lifestyle is dangerous,’ said Miriam between sips. ‘Working girls get beaten all the time.’

‘Yet according to Kelsey her mum was clean, so why would she even be with a punter?’ said Lilly.

‘Old habits die hard.’

Lilly conceded the point. ‘True, and maybe some misogynist did bash her head in cos she wouldn’t take it up the trap door, but why mutilate the body?’

Miriam raised her eyebrows. They both knew people got their kicks in the strangest ways. Most of the kids in The Bushes could testify to that.

The inhabitants of southern England had communally declared it too hot to cook and the fish and chip shop was full. Its owners bellowed at each other in Turkish, throwing their arms around them like Basil Fawlty on acid. Their young assistant fried the cod, his face glistening with sweat and hot fat, and ignored both his employers and the customers.

Eventually, a parcel of food was unceremoniously dumped onto the counter. Lilly’s Auntie Val, who had run the Castle Wall Fish Palace for thirty-six years and knew every regular order by heart, would have turned in her grave.

The wrapping paper steamed and smelled of vinegar.

‘What do you think we got today, big man?’ asked Lilly.

Sam giggled in anticipation. It was like a Christmas present, you never knew what was inside until you opened it. The poor service annoyed Lilly but Sam lapped it up.

‘Did you ask for a sausage?’ he asked.

‘Three times, my love,’ Lilly replied.

‘So it’s probably a fish cake.’

Lilly’s mobile rang. She ruffled her son’s hair and checked the caller ID.

‘Hi Jack. Sorry if I seemed a smart arse today, just doing what I thought was right.’

‘Me too,’ said Jack. ‘Which is why I’m giving you a heads-up on this.’

Lilly left the correct money on the counter and scooped the greasy packet into the crook of her arm. ‘Go on.’

‘On the night Grace was murdered a neighbour saw Kelsey entering the flat on two separate occasions. She can also vouch that no one else visited that night.’

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