Two-Way Cut

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The thing is, shed moved into this house only a few days ago, and yet they’d found her. Before that there’d been another house, and before that a couple of cheap and nasty flats. Cheap and nasty houses, too, so who was she kidding? The thing is, they’d found her at each of her boltholes and told her she was a dead woman.

This time they’d buried her car in a truckload of sand and placed a cardboard coffin on top of the heap. There was a doll dressed in a blue uniform cap and overalls inside the coffin. Overalls because some of them thought she was a lesbian. Lived alone, no boyfriend, didn’t mix, she had to be a dyke, right?

She was actually straight, but that wasn’t the issue, it was just their way of putting the boot in further. Some of them wanted her dead, and they were cops, and knew how to find her. Knew how to make her dead.

So there and then Leah Flood walked away from all of that. Literally. No more flats or houses in this city. She shoved clothes, toiletries, Swiss Army knife, sleeping-bag, tent and a couple of paperbacks into her pack and hit the road. Leah didn’t look back, not even at her buried car. It was a good car but a rope around her neck now. A rattly red MG with personalised plates, LEAH82 for the year she was born, shed not last five minutes on the open road.

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