Read Online The Age of Scorpio by Gavin Smith - Free Book Online Page A

would call when she got a phone.’
    Beth knew for a fact that Talia couldn’t live without her phone. There was no chance she didn’t have one. It just wasn’t important for her to call her father. After all, what use was a poor, broken-down, dying old man?
    ‘Look, Dad. London’s a big place. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.’
    Beth was surprised when her father reached forward and grabbed her arm. It felt like a skeleton had grabbed her, but for all that his grip was still strong.
    ‘What is it with you? Why can you only hurt this family? And believe me, you have no idea how true that is!’ Beth closed her eyes, wondering if this was when her father was going to blame her for her mother’s death, but he let go. She opened her eyes and he was struggling to his feet. He brushed away her attempts at help.
    ‘Look, I’m not going to London but I’ll phone a few people, okay?’ she told him. He just nodded as he made his way towards the door.
    Beth was angry with herself. She was angry because she was concerned despite herself. When she had seen Talia’s pale, spite-filled pretty face from the dock, she had sworn she was never going to help her again. Let her die choking on her own blood and vomit face down in the street somewhere. But after calling around she was starting to share her father’s worries.
    Talia had not gone to London; she had gone to Portsmouth. That was good. It was a smaller city and she should be easier to find. She had been in semi-regular contact with her remaining friends in Bradford, those she had not used up, until a few weeks ago. Talia had gone down to meet some goth, or whatever they were called now, a pretty boy called Clark who Beth vaguely knew. She had managed to get his number out of one of Talia’s friends and called him. He had given her a mouthful of abuse and hung up, refusing to answer any more of her calls.
    However, another of Beth’s friends, Billy, who also worked the doors, had said that there had been some Internet porn clip doing the rounds recently. He was not alone in thinking that the girl in it looked a lot like Talia. He had not gone into details and Beth had not asked, but he had said awkwardly it was some pretty raw stuff. Billy had been one of those guys more than a little bit in love with her sister but was too nice for Talia to be interested. Billy had gone round to see some more of Talia’s friends in person. It sounded like he had been not quite so nice this time. Two hours later he had phoned Beth back with an address in Portsmouth.
    ‘I have some money saved from my disability,’ her dad said from the doorway to the living room. She had been sitting on the stairs talking to Billy on the phone.
    ‘This is it, Dad. This is the last time I try and help her.’
    ‘Just bring her back to me before I die.’
    She doesn’t care! Beth wanted to scream . And you’ve always been dying, haven’t you, Dad? It’s a wonder that Mum beat you to it. The only thing Talia is interested in is using you in her ‘poor me’ stories. Instead Beth just nodded.
    In her room Beth packed. Clothes, soap, toothpaste, deodorant, ratty old towel, sleeping bag, all went into the army-surplus kitbag with the Celtic knotwork patterns drawn on it with marker pen. It was not much. Beth knelt in front of her bed staring at the kitbag, trying to make a decision. Finally she reached under the bed and pulled the box out. Opening it, she laid each item on the bed carefully. Brass knuckles, not the ones she had used on Mikey, her old ones that had lived in her pocket when she was working the doors. A pickaxe handle, one end with a bike chain wrapped tightly around it. A Balisong knife, often incorrectly called a butterfly knife. Beth had confiscated it from some kid when she had been working. She had kept it because she recognised a high-quality blade when she saw one. Finally she drew her great-grandfather’s First World War bayonet out of its sheath and looked at the old