Heather's Busy Week Pt. 06

'Not a chance. I'm with you all the way.'

It wasn't the moment to argue and besides, wasn't there safety in numbers? 'Okay,' Heather said. 'In through the gate and straight into those trees over there. We'll give it five. If someone comes to investigate, run like fun, back out of the gate and towards civilization.'

'You can follow my scorch marks,' said Naz.

A few seconds later they were hiding behind a couple of mature silver birches. Heather would have preferred trees with wider trunks . . . a pair of giant redwoods, say . . . but these two just about sheltered two slender girls. And the major risk had been in getting to the trees, anyway. If they'd been seen, they'd soon know about it.

'That has to be ten minutes,' Naz said eventually. 'I think we made it.'

'Me too. Time to snoop.'

'How are we going to do it?'

'We get up against the house and sidle from window to window. See whatever there is to be seen, and then come back here to review. Unless we get rumbled, in which case . . .'

'Run like fun.'

'No, Naz, run like all the devils in Hell are on your tail.'

Thinking about it later, Heather supposed they must have looked comical, sidling around the big old house like actors in a silent movie, communicating by mime and extravagant facial expressions. At the time it hadn't been funny at all. There were a lot of ground floor windows and, as she cautiously peeped into one after another, she was always expecting the worst. Maybe a decapitated head suddenly appearing, a la the sunken boat from Jaws. Or Jason, erupting out of the depths of Crystal Lake.

Or Spider, bursting out through the glass and grabbing her.

Nothing happened. The downstairs rooms were totally devoid of people . . . unless there were rooms in the middle without external windows. Heather considered this as they finished their circuit, still pressed up against the house wall, trying to slow racing hearts. Did houses have rooms without windows? If so, was this big enough to qualify?

Giving up on that, she considered what she'd seen of the contents of the rooms. While Spider had kept up appearances outside, the interior had surprised her. She wasn't au fait with the latest drug dealer chic, so hadn't been sure what to expect, style-wise. Something spartan in blacks and whites? Or maybe something out of Footballers' Wives? Whatever; she certainly hadn't expected what she actually saw. It looked as if he'd bought the place from a widow in her nineties, carpets and furniture included . . . and then left it as it was.

Don't say we've got the wrong house!

'Hev,' Naz hissed. 'Did you hear that?'

A second cry rang out before Heather could answer. It was muffled but coming from directly above them. And muffled or not, it was coming from a female.

There was a fall pipe close to hand. Like the rest of the property it was old but sturdy, made to last. Heather was no metallurgist but guessed it was cast iron.

'Stay here,' she hissed back. 'And this time don't argue.'

'You'll break your neck.'

Heather ignored that. She'd been able to climb every tree on Hunters Farm long before her tenth birthday. And it had been a big farm with lots of very tall trees. Shinning fifteen feet or so up a firmly fixed drainpipe wasn't anything to worry about. And the lawn below was monsoon-drenched and soggy. She wouldn't hurt herself too badly even if she did fall off.

Naz stopped arguing and waited below while Heather swiftly ascended. Naz was very clearly nervous, so much so she was wringing her hands. Seeing her do that made Heather feel like Pearl White, risking imminent death. If she hadn't been so afraid of getting caught she might have laughed.

The window was about three feet from the pipe. Gripping cast iron between her knees and with her left hand, Heather reached out until she could land the palm of her right hand on the solid stone ledge. Then she peeped in through yet another window.

She'd heard more muffled cries on her way up so wasn't exactly astonished by what she saw: a woman on her back on a bed. The woman had a large, muscular guy on top of her, manfully banging away. Her face was obscured by the back of the guy's bald head. It wasn't possible to recognize her or try to read her expression. Ditto the guy. Apart from taking in his powerful build, the only distinguishing feature Heather could see was a mesh-like tattoo. Starting most of the way down his right arm, it ran diagonally across his back and up onto his neck.

It slowly dawned on Heather what that tattoo was supposed to represent. It was meant to look as if he'd barged shoulder-first into a gigantic web . . . a web that had bounced him back after branding him for life.

Definitely Spider, then. So, is this rape or . . .

The woman answered that by screaming out what could only be encouragement.

Not rape, then.

Heather glanced around the bedroom. The slice she could see was as dingy and washed-out as the rooms downstairs. The bed looked new, though. That was just as well because Spider was banging away harder than ever. The woman was relatively lifeless beneath him. No, she was completely motionless, her involvement restricted to supportive cries and screams.

Hmmm . . .

Spider finished with a loud cry of his own and almost immediately got up off the bed. Heather couldn't help but notice his willy. No wonder the girl had been supportive; he was hung like a horse!

He moved out of sight within the room and Heather looked back to the bed. The woman lying there had a large chest on an otherwise athletic body. Unfortunately, she had her head in the gap between two pillows. Her features were still not easily seen.

Spider came back into view, holding a small tray. Whatever was on it roused the woman on the bed. From lifeless she suddenly leapt into a sitting position, boobs bouncing becomingly.

It was Carrie. Her face was deathly pale but she was smiling and holding out her hand. Spider said something that made her laugh. Then he passed over what wasn't a tray after all. It was a mirror, Heather realized. With mounting horror she watched Carrie lift the mirror to her face and snort . . .

Coke. It had to be fucking coke!

Heather wanted to bang on the window but couldn't. Her position was precarious. Whichever hand she used she'd surely lose her balance.

Carrie had finished snorting and was licking the mirror's glass face. Heather could almost feel the girl's desperation to get every last grain. It was not a nice feeling to share.

Now Carrie said something that made Spider laugh. He joined her on the bed and she made an instant snatch at his groin. And, although he wasn't erect anymore, she'd obviously found a new lease of life. When he didn't harden straightaway she lowered her head, licking at him, flicking her tongue at him . . .

Heather had seen enough. Heaving herself away from the window ledge, she grasped the fall pipe with both hands and descended slowly, left over right, not wanting to slide down and hurt herself on the supporting brackets.

Naz met her with a mighty hug and a flurry of pecked kisses. Using another extravagant facial expression, Heather signalled that they should retreat to their birch trees.

'If we keep the volume down we can talk here,' she said. 'The glass in that window is thick. I was right next to them and I could hardly hear a thing.'

'I was afraid you'd fall.' Naz gripped Heather's arm. 'I don't know what I'd have done if you'd crashed down at my feet.' Then, not letting go: 'Is Carrie up there?'

'Yes. No doubt about it. It's her.'

'Is she being . . . raped?'

'No. There's no doubt about that, either.'

'Are you sure? You don't sound too certain.'

'Naz, she's taking drugs. I actually saw her taking some. She's not being forced to do any of the things she's doing. But that doesn't mean her judgment's fit for purpose, does it?'

'What things? You look uneasy.'

'Don't worry, she's not doing anything perverted. I'm just uneasy because of the drugs. It's only a few days since she overdosed. Now she's at it again while bloody Spider shags her seven ways from Sunday.'

Naz frowned. 'Did you see what she was taking, exactly?'

'No.' Heather grimaced. 'I had to keep my head down. Not that I had much choice in that position. The angles were wrong. It took me long enough to realize she was snorting off a mirror.'

'Snorting, eh. What was she like afterwards?'

'She was like the life and soul of the party. One minute she seemed to be almost asleep, the next she was all over the bastard, wanting more.' It was Heather's turn to frown. 'It was odd. When she was getting shagged she put nothing into it at all. Well, she shouted out quite a bit, otherwise she just lay there as if she wasn't interested.'

'I think he's feeding her uppers and downers,' said Naz. 'What you saw her snort was coke; it has to be coke. Before that it could have been pills or anything.'

'Pills?' Heather echoed.

'Pills or other powders.'

'Thanks Naz. Now I'm even more worried about her tolerance.' Heather looked back up at the bedroom window, tears of frustration in her eyes. 'She shouldn't be taking anything after what she's been through, never mind an ongoing cocktail.'

'We have to stop her then, don't we?'

'But how?'

'You know what we agreed. Ring her mum and tell her where she is.'

'I can't.' Heather shrugged helplessly. 'Her mum is nice but she can be domineering. She can be according to Alex, anyway. According to him, that's where Carrie gets it from. If I ring her she might show up on Spider's doorstep, breathing fire.'

'Isn't that what he deserves?'

'I can't let her face up a guy like that. You haven't seen him, Naz. His huge muscles have got huge muscles.'

'Ring the police then. Tell them you've witnessed what you believe to be Class A drugs being taken. Let them sort it out.'

'That would get Carrie arrested as well. And besides,' Heather pulled a face, 'I tried reporting something similar only last week. They won't really want to know.'

'What about your police friend?'

'She's not in Narcotics. And she'd probably arrest me for fibbing to her.'

'So what are we going to do?' Naz demanded. 'Wait until Spider goes out dealing and try to break in?'

'He might not go out for hours yet. And how long has she been with him? From half past one this morning? Even if he made her wait until the nightclub closed, she must have been taking stuff for over twelve hours. I . . .'

'Hev,' Naz hissed. 'Look at the house. In the nearest downstairs window. Is that him?'

Normally Heather would have made a joke about not recognizing a bloke with his clothes on. Not today. And she recognized him anyway. She'd recognize him anywhere.

'It's him,' she said. 'Can't you see the tattoo on his neck?'

'I can see something smudgy and black.'

'I think he's going to fetch something from his car. Quick, follow me.'

Keeping under cover as best she could, Heather hurried through the small stand of trees until she found the best vantage point. Hidden behind what might have been a young oak, she was swiftly joined by Naz. Instinctively clinging to each other, they were there in time to see Spider emerge from his house. He wasn't fetching something, however, he really was on his way out. To Heather's utter amazement, he locked the front door and then casually tossed the key into a nearby hanging basket.

'Fuck me,' said Naz. 'Did you see that?'

Heather was still blinking in disbelief. Imran had more locks, bolts and chains than Fort Knox. Spider didn't seem to give a fig.

Don't say we've got the wrong house . . .

But they hadn't got the wrong house. She knew they hadn't. Carrie was upstairs, flying high as a kite on Spider's crap.

As they watched, Spider got in his BMW and made the engine purr. He must have had state-of-the-art power steering, because he casually made a two point turn in his quite narrow drive. No doubt pleased with himself, he slowly drove out into the perpetually strafed road, obviously taking care of his suspension.

'Fancy car indeed,' Naz said.

'Stuff his motor. I'm off inside while the going's good.'

'Me too.'

'Naz . . .'

'Me too. We're in this together. Friends to the end, and all that.'

Heather didn't argue. There wasn't the time to bicker and, safety in numbers or not, she would be glad of the company. She held out her clenched fist. 'In and out like the SAS, yes?'

Naz bumped knuckles. 'So be it,' she said, as if she was a Robert Ludlum hero.

Heather fished the key out of the hanging basket and put it in the lock. 'If there's an alarm we run round the back and out the tradesman's way.'

'With all the devils in Hell choking on our dust.' Naz nodded solemnly. 'I get the drift.'

'Is there anyone about?'

'Not that I can see.'

'Okay, here goes.'

The key turned easily and there were no bells or sirens when Heather cautiously pulled open the door. She swiftly closed it behind them when they'd hurried inside.

'Tattie!' Naz cried. 'What's that?'

Heather turned and almost screamed. There was a giant spider advancing on them. Its body had to be at least six feet across. Black as pitch and with glowing red eyes, it was scurrying along the hallway, its legs half on the ceiling, half on the wall to their left. Most scarily of all, it had a pair of enormous curved fangs, both of them dripping venom.

'Wow,' she said shakily. 'This guy likes his artwork.'

'I nearly peed my pants.' Naz's voice was low. 'I thought it was real.'

'I bet it's Spider's alarm system. It gives out a message, doesn't it?'

'So does that.' Naz pointed to a message painted on the wall to their right. Written in capitals, using gothic letters, it said:

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

'Must be cheaper than electronic security,' Heather said. 'Come on. Let's not waste our time down here. Carrie's upstairs, in a room on the right of the building.

As they went past the spider Heather felt the hairs go up on the back of her neck. She was trying to seem cool and collected but good grief, wasn't that creepy! It was also excellently done as well as eerily lifelike. And having it behind her was even worse than facing it off.

The stairs were at the end of the hallway. Clouds of dust came off the carpet as they started to climb. Spider probably employed gardeners for outside but the inside of his house couldn't have seen cleaners for years. Arachnophobia must have frightened them all away.

'Okay,' Heather said as they reached the landing. 'It's one of these two doors in the middle.' She tried the nearest handle and the door opened into an empty, unused room. She could see bare floorboards, yellowing wallpaper and not a stick of furniture.

'She's in this one.'

Naz was gesturing from just inside the second door. Heather recognized that room as soon as she followed her friend inside. She hardly recognized Carrie, though. The girl was naked on the bed, her legs spread in a most unladylike manner. Even more unusually . . . so much more unusually . . . she was grinning like a loon.

'Girls,' she gushed, 'have you come to join the party?' Then, out of the blue, in a loud, uneven voice, she began to sing: 'We're having a gang bang . . .'

Carrie broke off abruptly. 'I don't normally do girls,' she said. 'But I bet you do, Heather. You are always sticking up for your lesbian buddies. Fancy sticking something up me? You might as well have a go. Everybody else has. And how about you, Naz. Do you . . .'

She stopped mid-sentence and simply fell asleep.

'This is too weird,' said Heather. 'One moment she's the life and soul . . .'

'I think the bastard's given her heroin,' Naz interrupted. 'He's given her coke and heroin. And coke doesn't last anything like as long. I reckon it just wore off and she's running on H. She'll be drowsy for hours now.'

'Drowsy? She's comatose!'

'Hev, I thought you said she hadn't been raped. Look at her pussy.'

Heather had seen a lot of women's parts over the years, both for real and on video. She knew that some got swollen and red even before sex had been had. And some got swollen and red during and after sex, of course. But she'd never seen anything like Carrie's. She'd never seen anything remotely like Carrie's.

'I think she's sore rather than bruised,' she said uneasily. 'I mean overused rather than strictly abused. And I think we'd better get her out of here before that bastard comes back to use her again. Can you see her kit?'

'Here, on the floor.' Naz stooped and retrieved an extremely untidy pile of clothes. Stuffypants would not have been impressed.

'Alex's boxers,' Naz said, tossing them to Heather.

Under other circumstances Heather would have laughed. Carrie had caused quite a stir when she'd first turned up in her brother's underwear. That had been a few months ago and had not gone unnoticed in a changing room full of nosy lady footballers. At the time some players had opined that perhaps she had a sense of humour after all. Right now it wasn't funny. Right now Heather saw it as conclusive evidence that Carrie was no longer "her usual self".

An early sign. One we all missed!

Getting Carrie's boxers on was surprisingly tricky. Her legs were dead weights and she was in no state to make it an easy task. The harder Heather tried, the trickier it seemed to get.

'Carrie,' she said, 'show willing, for God's sake!'

Naz had clearly seen enough. Pushing Heather out of the way, she quickly pulled the garment into place. 'Trackie bottoms,' she said commandingly. 'And haven't you ever dressed anyone before?'

'I haven't actually. I've undressed loads and loads of people, but maybe that's easier to do.'

'Didn't you even play with dolls?'

'On a farm? No way. I had trees to climb and crows to shoot. I didn't have any time for dolls.'

'Bra. Thank you. You don't have brothers and sisters, do you?'

'No,' Heather confirmed. 'I suppose that's how you learned the art of dressing other people. By having brothers and sisters, I mean.'

'Minha and I were the oldest,' Naz said. 'Well, I was the oldest by a couple of hours. I never had to dress her, for obvious reasons, but we had to help with the other four. Two boys and two girls. Sweatshirt, please. Right, now for her trainers.'

'Okay,' said Heather once Carrie was as decent as she was likely to get. 'Here's the plan. I'm going to pick her up in a fireman's lift and take her to the stairs. Then we're going to work out how to get her down them. That might take both of us.'

'And then?'

'Then we get her out, into a taxi and far, far away.'

'Taxi drivers don't like letting you in if you're even a little bit drunk,' said Naz. 'They expect you to throw up in the back of the cab. I can't see anyone letting Carrie in while she's like this.'

'I know one who will. Let's do the difficult bit and get her downstairs. Then I'll ring him.'

'Okay, how do we begin?'

'Let's get her on her feet. You can support her while I get her onto my shoulder. I won't have to lift her so far that way.'

Amazingly, Carrie's legs supported her weight when she was up. Her eyes were still closed and she didn't reply to questions, but there was something going on behind the blinds. There must have been.

'Change of plan,' said Heather. 'You take that side, I'll take this. We can drag her along, sort of. We'll get her downstairs that way, too.'

Heather put Carrie's arm over her shoulder, drunken sailor-style, and put her own arm around the girl's quite shapely waist. Naz followed suit from the other side.

'Got her?' Heather enquired.

'Got her,' Naz confirmed.

They exchanged glances and cautious smiles.

'I think this is going to work,' said Naz.

'Don't count your chickens. I can't believe Spider's gone out drug dealing as early as this. The Cat's Whiskers doesn't open until nine. He could be back at any moment.'