The Truth About Celia Frost Read online

  It was Celia who heard the noise first.

  “Quiet!” she hissed. “What’s that?” It sounded like a herd of elephants coming up the stairs.

  “Oh my God!” Sol froze mid-swipe. “It’s my brothers.”

  Celia hit the light switch, hugging herself in an attempt to control the rising laughter.

  “Can you hear something?” Abs said to Yacob as they reached the landing.

  “Yeah, it’s coming from Sol’s room. Bit late for him, isn’t it?”

  “Hey,” Abs whispered. “I think he’s crying.”

  They put their respective ears to the bedroom door and heard the distinct sound of sobbing. They looked at each other, concerned.

  Abs nudged his brother. “Go in there and see what’s up.”

  “No, you go in. It could be something embarrassing.”

  “We’ll both go in then.”

  Abs tapped on the door.

  “Sol,” he said gently, “are you all right? Can we come in?”

  Sol and Celia were on the verge of hyperventilating, producing periodic gasps as they tried to stifle their laughter. Sol scrambled up the ladder. “Hide,” he mouthed to Celia.

  Celia dived under the duvet, her cloud of orange hair poking out.

  “Don’t come in,” Sol said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.” He pulled Celia by the ankles so that her hair disappeared from view. He jumped in the opposite end and smoothed the duvet over the suspicious mound.

  “You don’t sound like you’re fine,” Yacob said, opening the door a fraction, light from the landing penetrating the room. The brothers’ faces appeared around the door. Sol popped his head up, desperate to stop them coming in.

  “What’s the matter with you two?” he said groggily. “Why have you woken me up?”

  “We thought you were crying,” Abs said, puzzled.

  “Crying? I’ve been asleep.”

  “Listen, buddy, there’s no shame in having a little cry every now and then. If something’s bothering you, you can tell us.” Abs started to edge further into the room.

  Sol could see the duvet moving with Celia’s quivering. He put his hand out like a policeman stopping traffic. “Honestly, I’m fine. I must have been having a nightmare, that’s all. You two get to bed – you need your beauty sleep.”

  “Okay, but you know, Sol, any problems, anyone giving you a hard time, and me and Yac will sort them out.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks, guys,” he said, watching his brothers’ heads disappear and the door shut once more.

  Celia threw the duvet off, gasping. “Oh my God! I thought I was going to die of laughter under there. They are so sweet, aren’t they?”

  “They have their moments. Listen, I’m going back on the floor,” Sol whispered.

  “Don’t be stupid. We’re both up here now, so let’s just stay like this; heads and tails. I promise to keep my hands off you.”

  “Okay,” Sol’s voice squeaked.

  Ten excruciating minutes passed as they lay there in the dark, listening to each other’s breathing, terrified to move a muscle in case they touched, acutely aware that there was only a layer of body heat between them.

  Sol couldn’t stand it any more. He sat bolt upright in the bed. “Actually, Celia,” he whispered, “I think I will sleep on the floor after all.”

  “Okay then.” She nodded with relief. “If you’re sure.”

  Celia couldn’t resist the lure of the Giran household. She’d planned to go straight home from the flooded quarry this evening, but when they reached Sol’s house, Mrs. Giran had invited her to come in. Two hours later she was still there, watching TV with Sol and devouring delicious home-made biscuits.

  “Your mum’s the best!” Celia sighed, sipping her sweet, treacly, Ethiopian coffee.

  “Yeah, well, for some strange reason she thinks you’re great, but she might change her mind if she knew you spent Wednesday night in my bedroom,” he whispered, wagging his finger at her.

  “Shut up!” Celia blushed.

  “You should phone your mum, you know. She keeps ringing. You should answer her.”

  “Why should I? I’ve already phoned her once today. She’s got to stop stalking me. I tell you what, though,” Celia said excitedly, “something’s going on. I think she may have found herself a man.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well no, but for the last few days she’s been getting these phone calls. Every time it rings she dives into her bedroom to answer it. Next minute I hear her giggling like a schoolgirl, and when she comes out she’s all pink, with a stupid smile on her face.”

  “Well, haven’t you asked her?”

  “Of course I have. She just said why should she tell me, when I won’t tell her anything?”

  “Suppose that’s fair enough.”

  “Anyway, I’d love it if it was a boyfriend. That’s what she needs; someone else in her life. Maybe then she’d stop obsessing about me.”

  Mrs. Giran appeared in the room carrying a fresh supply of coffee and biscuits, just as Celia’s phone rang again. Celia tried to ignore it.

  “Aren’t you going to answer your phone, Celia?” Mrs. Giran asked.

  She picked it up reluctantly. “Hi, Mum... The chicken’s burned? What are you talking about? What chicken? ...Oh, did you? I mustn’t have heard my phone... Okay. I’m coming home now anyway... Just around... Out and about... Listen, don’t worry, I’ll see you in a minute.”

  “That was your mother?” Mrs. Giran asked.

  “Yeah – she wants me home.”

  “Well, maybe next visit you’ll bring her with you. I’d love to meet her. It’s hard for us women bringing up our children alone. I want to tell her what a wonderful job she’s done with you.”

  Celia flashed an angelic smile and then turned to Sol, pulling a cartoon face of horror. The thought of Sol’s mum meeting Janice sent shivers down her spine. The shame of Mrs. Giran meeting her deranged mother – no way was that going to happen.

  “You know that you’re always welcome here, Celia. There’s a lot of bad things out there and it makes me happy that my boy has a nice friend like you to keep him away from trouble.” Mrs. Giran beamed, as she ruffled Sol’s hair.

  “Mum, get off!” Sol said, squirming.

  “Walk Celia home, Sol, but make sure you come straight back. Goodnight, darling girl.” Mrs. Giran threw her arms around Celia, pressing her into soft, ample flesh.

  Celia was overwhelmed by the embrace and hugged her back. She realized that things were far from perfect in this family. On top of living with the agony of trying to find her husband, Mrs. Giran had two wayward sons to contend with and a third who, though she was blissfully unaware of it, had been bunking off school. However, despite all these stresses, there was no hint of the suffocating tension that Janice created in their own home. Sol didn’t have to endure any wild-eyed interrogation every time he walked in the door. He didn’t have to cope with a mad, out-of-control mother.

  Is this what it’s like to have a normal mum? Is this what I’ve missed out on all my life? Celia was suddenly in danger of crying. She quickly released Mrs. Giran, letting go of the comfort and safety that enveloped her in this woman’s arms.

  “You okay?” Sol asked, puzzled.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go,” Celia blustered, hiding her face.

  They headed towards the dark towers. The evening air was still warm from the day’s sun. A perfect full moon sat so clear in the sky that it looked possible to reach up and grab it.

  “I’m starving. Do you fancy going to the chippy?” Sol said.

  Celia was incredulous. “Don’t you ever stop eating?”

  “I’m a growing boy.” He shrugged. “Come on, I’ll race you. Last one there buys!” Sol started running before he’d finished his sentence, leaving Celia standing, but her long-legged strides soon closed the gap. They weaved in and out of the blocks of houses, skidding around corners, yelling through the echoing passageways, swerving past the bu
rned-out wheelie bins that were strewn around like some modern art installation. They didn’t take any notice as they ran past the figure, who looked up on seeing them, then quickly reached for his mobile.

  A minute later they became aware of someone sprinting up behind them. A voice shouted, “Hey, you two! Stop, please stop. I need your help!”

  Celia and Sol slowed down and cautiously looked behind. The youth was panting, beckoning them towards him. Sol and Celia maintained their distance.

  “What’s up?” Sol called to him.

  “It’s my mate,” the boy spluttered. “He’s been beaten up, he’s hurt bad. Please...help me. I’m on my own with him. I don’t want to leave him.”

  “Have you called an ambulance?” Celia asked.

  “Yeah. They said they’d be ten minutes. I don’t want to be on my own with him for ten minutes. Please...I don’t know what to do.”

  Celia and Sol looked at each other. The boy’s panic was palpable. They couldn’t walk away.

  “Okay. Where is he?” Sol asked.

  “Thanks, mate! Thanks! It’s this way.” The hooded boy ran ahead of them, leading them to the entrance of a long, dingy alleyway.

  “It’s a dead end.” Celia’s anxiety was growing.

  “Yeah, I know. He’s down the bottom. Come on! He was bleeding bad,” the twitchy teenager said, corralling them down the unlit alley.

  They reached the end of the alleyway, but all that could be seen were piles of black bags full of stinking rubbish, which had been dumped among other debris.

  “What’s going on? There’s no one here,” Celia said tensely.

  “God! I don’t know, honest,” their guide said innocently. “He was here. He must have crawled away or something.”

  “This doesn’t feel right, Celia. Let’s get out of here. Now!” Sol took her hand, but as they turned to go, they saw figures enter the alleyway.

  “I don’t believe it!” the boy announced in mock-shock. “Here he is now. Praise be to God – it’s a miracle!”

  Sol immediately looked around for an escape route but high walls surrounded them on three sides; the only way out was to go past the approaching rabble.

  “Don’t worry. Just play it cool. They’ll let us pass,” Sol said nervously.

  But Celia could see the huge, mangy Rottweiler approaching, its owner tugging on its chain. “They won’t,” she whispered with dread. “They’re here for me.”

  The group now stood in a line in front of them, barring any exit.

  “What you doing down an alley in the dark? You and her up to dirty things?” Razor said sleazily. “You don’t look capable of it.”

  The gang of shadow-faced followers cackled and jeered, lager spilling from their clutched cans. The dog started to get agitated, picking up on the growing tension in the air.

  “Look,” Sol said, trying to sound relaxed. “We don’t want any trouble. Just let us pass.” He stepped forward but the gang responded by moving in.

  “You ain’t going nowhere,” said the leader. “We have business with your girlfriend. She’s caused me a lot of bother. The pigs have been hassling me, taking up my valuable time. But they ain’t got nothing on me. It’s police harassment, that’s what I told them.”

  “You should sue ’em, Razor,” laughed one of the gang.

  “Look at you,” Razor sneered at Sol. “You ain’t even got the balls to be part of a crew, have you?”

  “I just mind my own business,” Sol replied.

  Razor gave a look of disdain before jerking his head and spitting in Sol’s face.

  “Stop it!” shouted Celia, her face screwed up in anger. “Leave him alone.”

  “You’re right,” Razor said shrugging. “It’s not him we’ve come for, it’s you.”

  Sol moved in front of Celia, trying to shield her, even though she stood head and shoulders above him.

  “Hold him,” Razor ordered his rabble. They pounced on Sol, pulling him away from Celia and pinning him to the ground.

  Razor dragged the dog towards Celia as she backed against the wall. “Rocky hasn’t eaten for a few days. I like to keep him hungry, it keeps him nice and mean.”

  The dog looked disinterested, his anvil head bowed, his black eyes dead. Razor delivered a sharp kick to the animal’s belly. Rocky let out a sickening yelp.

  “Come on, boy, have a good sniff. You lookin’ at your dinner, but maybe you need the smell of blood to get your juices flowing,” he said darkly.

  Celia flashed a look of terror at Sol, who stared up helplessly from the ground.

  “What you going to do with her?” asked Shane.

  Razor handed him the dog’s chain before grabbing hold of Celia’s mop of hair and turning her to face the wall. He kicked her behind the knees and her legs immediately buckled. As she crumpled he took hold of her and pushed her body against the wall, scraping it down the rough bricks like cheese down a grater. Celia felt the heat of the friction. She fell in a heap on the ground. Her flayed skin smarted as blood sprang from her bare knees and elbows.

  “Now Rocky might think you’re a bit more tasty. He likes raw meat,” Razor hissed. “Hey, Shane! I hope you’re getting all this.”

  The scrawny lad fumbled around in his pockets for his mobile. “Yeah, no problem, Razor,” he sniffed.

  “See that bitch over there,” Razor said, strutting for the video, “she’s about to become dog meat.”

  The baying gang bounced around like they were on hot coals, grunting and howling as they whipped themselves up into a bloodlust.

  Celia crouched in a ball against the wall as Razor pulled the dog in closer.

  “What you think, Rocky?” he said. “How about a bite to eat?”

  The whole gang joined in, trying to wind up the animal. They threw their cans at him, clapping in his face, whooping and taunting. “Kill! Kill! Kill!” they chanted, jabbing their fingers towards Celia.

  Rocky began to growl and snap.

  “That’s more like it,” said Razor approvingly. He let out the chain. Rocky was so close she could see the dripping pus from the infection that had spread over his entire mauled ear. His hot, stinking breath sailed up her nostrils as he bared his yellow pointed teeth. Celia buried her head in her knees, her hands over her head, rigid with fear, waiting for his jaws to clamp down and rip into her. But things weren’t happening quickly enough for Razor, who yanked the chain viciously, snapping the dog’s neck back.

  “Get on with it!” he roared, kicking Rocky’s festering ear.

  The dog howled, throwing himself about, jerking Razor around like a stunt kite in the wind. The chain was torn out of his grasp. The gang backed away as the unfettered dog jumped up at Razor, felling him to the ground and sinking his teeth into his thigh. Razor let out a scream as panic swept through his followers.

  A couple of them ran at the animal, attempting to kick him off their leader, but Rocky deepened his bite, his teeth hitting bone.

  “Stab him!” wailed Razor.

  Shane brandished his knife at the dog, jabbing it towards him. The dog unlocked his jaws and turned on him. Shane took one look at Rocky’s blood-soaked mouth and backed off down the alleyway. The rest of the gang followed, dragging the writhing Razor behind them.

  Celia rose shakily to her feet, leaning against the wall for support. Sol edged towards her, not taking his eyes off the dog, who was charging around in front of them, shaking his head violently and snapping at the air as his chain whipped the ground. But then Rocky paused, fixing wild eyes on Sol. Blood-stained slobber hung between his bared teeth. Every wasted muscle in his body quivered, poised to attack.

  Sol frantically looked around for some protection. In one corner he saw a broken shopping trolley and on the other side, among the sacks of stinking rubbish, he spotted a snapped broom handle. Sol inched sideways and grabbed for the handle – but as he felt it in his grasp, Rocky ran at him, launching into the air with open jaws. Sol swung the handle with all his strength. It delivered a blow to th
e dog’s chest that sent it hurtling to the ground.

  Sol repositioned himself, standing with legs apart, hands gripping the ends of the broom handle like a Samurai warrior. He watched as Rocky rolled back onto his feet and started patrolling in front of them, snarling in between deafening barks. Celia crept towards Sol, dragging the mangled shopping trolley.

  “What’s that for?” Sol asked.

  “We can trap him under it. It’s like a cage,” Celia answered quietly. Sol flashed her a look of incredulity. “Have you got a better idea?” she hissed. “Get behind it. We need to get close enough to trap him.”

  They slowly moved behind the three-wheeled trolley. Celia strained to keep it upright as it tilted forwards.

  “Now what?” Sol asked.

  “Get ready with your stick,” Celia warned, and she started shouting at the crazed dog: “Come on! Here boy!”

  Rocky bolted towards them, but as they were about to tip the trolley onto him he swerved to the side, where Celia stood, unprotected.

  “Duck!” screamed Sol as he swung the handle, narrowly missing Celia’s head but making contact with Rocky’s front legs. The dog fell backwards but instantly sprang up, more aggressive than ever.

  “Quick! Pull the trolley round to face him,” Celia rasped.

  They dragged it around as Rocky leaped towards them again but Celia held her nerve, waiting for the perfect moment before she screamed, “Now!”

  They grabbed hold of the bottom of the trolley and flipped it upside down. It landed right on target, stopping the animal in his tracks.

  They stood back, watching as the trapped dog rammed his body against the cage, pushing his nose through the grids, his teeth chomping down on the metal. When this didn’t work he started to paw at the concrete ground, his overgrown nails scratching the surface in a futile attempt to tunnel out.

  “What should we do?” Celia asked, trembling.

  “Get out of here, quick. I don’t know how long that trolley can hold him and we don’t want to be around if any of those bastards come back.”

  She winced as she stepped forward. Blood oozed out of the flayed skin on her elbows and knees.