Blood Lines by Grace Monroe Page A

exactly what I found myself in. Thirteen and living by my wits? It wasn’t easy.’
    That was some understatement. I knew that Kailash had been whoring herself out since then – the only difference now being that she was in charge. When Malcolm first met her she was one of the many skinny wee things he was employed to patch up and send out onto the streets again. When Kailash left, Malcolm did too.
    It made my troubles seem petty.
    Kailash looked uncomfortable with her confession, or maybe I was, and we didn’t make eye contact. Anyway, it was less painful to look at her feet. She wore Jimmy Choos, as always. Maybe her love of luxury wasn’t so indulgent after all. As usual, her foot tapped a restless rhythm, as if it would be dangerous to stay in the one spot too long. She cleared her throat and brought me out of my daydream.
    ‘There wasn’t a lot of beauty in my life then, and I found a nicer class of client basked in the company of Rembrandt. For turning my life around, I will always be grateful to the Rijksmuseum.’
    ‘Hence the name?’
    Kailash didn’t add anything. I felt even guiltier that she had wanted to share her story with me, but I didn’t feel ready to deal with the burden of her pain. The atmosphere lay heavily between us.
    Malcolm made mutterings of disappointment as he collected their coats and held the front door open for her. If he’d expected an emotional reunion with me calling her ‘Mummy’ he would have to leave dissatisfied.
    Kailash turned to face me just before she left.
    ‘Why won’t you do it, Brodie? Why won’t you ask for my help?’
    I gave her a look that Mary McLennan used to describe as silent insolence. I didn’t see her hand move but I felt it when it slapped my cheek. Tears of frustration ran down her face.
    ‘There is no need for any of this,’ she hissed. ‘You know I would give you the money to pay off Roddie Buchanan’s debts, to get you out of anything.’
    Malcolm ushered her out before I could reply. I leaned against the door. I knew she was right, but I could never buy my way out of trouble on her money. Not because I didn’t feel anything for her or was too stubborn, but because the money she had was earned by her pain.
    The answering machine flickered, alerting me to messages from the men in my life. Wriggling snakes trying to charm me to do their bidding?
    All I could think of was Kailash’s eyes, because I knew I was the one who killed the light in them.

Chapter Twelve
    ‘Wipe that face off now. Nobody is anybody until they’ve been arrested, Brodie. Look on it as an education for the job.’
    If I had been expecting tea and sympathy from Lavender, I was sadly mistaken. I’d stayed in the flat on my own all night after the rotten afternoon I’d had with Kailash and Malcolm. I hadn’t returned any calls – not to Joe, not to Jack, not to Kailash, and not to Lavender herself. They were probably all pissed off with me, but only Lavender had the chance to show it to me now.
    ‘The problem with you, Lavender, is that you never know when enough is enough.’
    She wouldn’t stop. ‘Just think of all the famous jailbirds: James Brown, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash …’
    ‘I don’t think Johnny Cash ever actually spent any time behind bars, he just sang there a lot. And …’
    ‘Well, there’s …’ She ignored me. Like I said, the problem with Lavender was she never knew when to stop.
    ‘Hitler?’ I finished her sentence for her.
    ‘Well, if you’re going to be stupid about this …’
    Then I saw in her eyes the look I really didn’t want to see. Lavender was fighting hard to stop herself from hugging me. We both knew that if she did she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears that were giving her eyes such a romantic dewy look. Eddie should come in now and sweep her off her feet.
    The clock showed that it was shortly before 8 a.m., so there wasn’t really much chance of him turning up. Lavender had collected the post from Rutland