Lady Bag by Liza Cody Page B

and was wandering around with amnesia? Or was it possible that someone had simply forgotten to stop a dead woman’s cards and account? Or was it all a clever trick to catch me out?
    As we emerged, breathless, from the eighth floor stairwell we almost walked into a violent confabulation. Buzz-cut Kev had his back to the door of our flat and he was surrounded by angry people. In front was the bearded man I’d mistaken for an ogre in a white nighty. He was saying, ‘Don’t you read your own fucking jacket, you moron? It says “Security”. You’ve supposed to be protecting us from trash like them, not giving them free board and lodging. Security, my arse!’
    ‘I’ve lived here for twenty-three years,’ an old bird piped up. ‘I’ve never seen the like. Pooh in the lift—syringes every-bloody-where. It’s disgusting.’
    ‘It just ain’t good enough,’ yelled a man with a shaved head, pushing forward belligerently. ‘Do your bleedin’ job!’
    Kev retreated into the flat. Baldy banged on the door with his fist. Kev reappeared almost immediately with a billystick in one hand and a tyre-iron in the other.
    I crouched down beside Electra and made myself as small and still as possible.
    Kev advanced on the residents’ committee. Baldy was the first one to scuttle away. The ogre vanished behind his own door. The old bird stood her ground for about ten seconds, saying, ‘You can’t intimidate me—I survived the Blitz,’ before limping away as fast as she could, leading the rest of the residents in an untidy rout. I couldn’t blame them—Kev followed them down the corridor like a bull chasing picnickers out of his field.
    I remembered the fist-sized bruises on Smister’s body. ‘Quick,’ I whispered to Electra, and we scurried into the flat while his back was turned. He’d left his keys in the lock. I grabbed them as I went past. I shut the door behind us, bolted it, slipped on the chain and wedged a chair under the knob.
    I was shaking like a jelly on a plate. Electra’s tail was between her legs. We looked at each other, horrified. I took her into the kitchen and, moving like an automaton, I stripped the polythene off her, dried her with a tea towel and opened a can of dog food. I’d promised her that I’d see to her first and that I would stay sober. But a woman can only take so much stress in one night. I opened a bottle of red wine and drank deep.
    ‘I kept half a promise,’ I said. ‘It’s better than none.’
    She stared at me with sorrowful eyes.
    The kitchen stank of wet fur, dog food and blocked drains.
    ‘One day,’ she said, ‘you’ll keep a whole promise.’
    The doorknob rattled.
    ‘What have you done?’ she whimpered. ‘He’ll be rageous. He’ll kill us.’
    ‘Maybe he’ll think the door blew shut. He didn’t see us, did he?’
    ‘But he’ll hear us if you keep on blabbing.’
    So I shut up and listened while Kev hit the door three mighty blows. It sounded as if he was running at it head first.
    ‘Can I have a cuddle?’ Electra whispered. We sat under the kitchen table, my arms tight around her. We were both trembling wildly. Her ears were pinned flat against her head.
    ‘Jody?’ Kev bellowed. ‘Stop acting like a disgusting little fag and let me in.’
    ‘Is that Smister’s real name—Jody?’
    ‘Could be it’s one of those boy-girl names he picked for himself.’ Electra’s so wise.
    Kev yelled, ‘Let me in. I’ll give you such a leathering.’
    ‘Not much with the psychology, is he?’ she murmured. I was glad I’d brought the bottle under the table with me.
    ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! ’ he screamed. ‘I’ll get a circular saw and cut the door open. Then I’ll cut you open.’
    He kept it up for twenty-five minutes and only stopped when the voice of the ogre threatened to call the cops. The door held and we stayed quiet. He couldn’t be sure that Smister was inside. He couldn’t be sure anyone was. And with any luck we’d stolen the key to the