by Karen Swan
‘So,’ Lee said, her eyes scanning the room but trying not to stare. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I got you a few more things than just pears. These oranges were on special too – so important to keep your immunity up in this cold weather – and I didn’t know if you liked tomatoes?’ She pulled everything out – fresh seeded bread, a steak, some lettuce, two pints of milk, yoghurt, a tompouce pastry, today’s newspaper. ‘I’ll just put them away for you, shall I? Save you the bother.’
Pabe stared at the produce, his mouth hanging slackly, looking overwhelmed, as she found the fridge, larder and fruit bowl. She also refilled the kettle, turning it on.
‘Why don’t you sit down while I do this and you can tell me about your daughter’s move. Antwerp, was it?’ she asked, hoping to distract him from her over-generous help. ‘I’ve always wanted to go there. Have you been?’
Pabe shuffled to the chair, looking grateful for the order to sit.
‘Not yet. We had talked about me going for Pakjesavond but they hadn’t finished setting up the house; some of their furniture was still in storage, and I didn’t want to be a burden for them, trying to find somewhere for me to sleep. But I may go for Christmas.’
‘That sounds great. You must miss them.’
‘I do.’
She poured the hot water from the kettle. ‘Do you take sugar?’
‘No thank you. I have to watch my waistline. For my lady admirers, you know.’
Lee threw her head back and laughed, surprised by the unexpected joke. ‘Well, quite.’
She handed him his coffee and leaned against the worktop with her own, hands wrapped around the mug for warmth, and she resolved to bring some flowers next time to brighten the place up, as well as a mop; the floor looked filthy. ‘So do you think this move is permanent for them? Or will they be back?’
‘My son-in-law is an engineer so they’ve got him heading up some research laboratory project. Five years, they’re saying, but I’ll be long gone by then.’ She looked up to find him pulling a face, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth. It was feeble but still funny.
‘Pabe, don’t say such a thing,’ Lee scolded, laughing. ‘You are clearly in your prime.’
‘Thank you, my dear, as are you. I keep hoping we’ll see a handsome man standing on your doorstep with flowers one day.’
‘So do I,’ she laughed, wanting no such thing. ‘Let me know if you see him, won’t you?’
He chuckled so that his shoulders shook.
But a sudden thud beneath their feet made them both startle. ‘Oh, what was that?’
Pabe rolled his eyes as a male voice drifted through the floor. Gus? ‘Always arguing,’ he tutted. ‘He shouts, she cries.’
‘Oh no, that’s such a shame,’ Lee said, immediately remembering Gus on the bridge on Tuesday morning, walking with that other woman. It seemed like confirmation of her suspicions that he was having an affair. ‘Lenka seems so lovely. Quiet but very . . . sweet.’
‘I never see her, just him. He does all the dirty work, complaining at me.’ Pabe sighed, looking away, his mouth drawing into a thin line.
Lee gave an awkward smile, hoping he wasn’t going to start bad-mouthing Gus, the way Gus had bad-mouthed him; their tenant–landlord relationship was none of her business. She checked her phone, hoping to move the conversation along. ‘Sorry, I’m just keeping an eye on the time. I need to collect Jasper shortly,’ she said, feeling bad for leaving him. ‘But listen, while I’m here, why don’t I put a fire on for you? A proper one. It’ll warm the house through more thoroughly than an electric fire.’
‘I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve done so much already.’
‘Nonsense. It’ll only take a few minutes and I’ll feel a lot better to know you’re not freezing over here.’
‘Well,’ he blustered. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Are your logs in the bin out the back, like ours?’
He nodded. ‘I can’t get down the steps to them, that’s the problem.’
‘Yes, I can see it would be,’ she said, peering out through the window and seeing moss growing on the stone steps. ‘Listen, why don’t you get settled next door? Let’s take your coffee and this newspaper through and then I’ll bring up the logs, enough to keep you going for the rest of the day.’
She went ahead into the living room and quickly disconnected the electric fire. It had to be at least thirty years old and would never pass fire regulations now – if a blanket or towel was to accidentally cover it, they would go up in flames within minutes. Moving it out of the way, she picked up the log bag. ‘I’ll only be a minute.’
She unlocked the back door, leaving it ajar so that some fresh air could enter the kitchen. She picked her way carefully down the steps and pulled up the lid for the log bin. It was set against the back wall of the house and positioned by the edge of the concrete well that allowed light – and garden access – to the basement apartment. Not that Gus or Lenka ever got to come out here; Gus had told her the key to the door had been lost ages ago. It looked from here like a black bin bag had been taped against the glass in lieu of a curtain.
Lee filled the log bag with as many logs as she could carry, staggering up the stairs and depositing them in the basket. She did that twice more, then knelt on the floor and got a fire going for him. Again, he was in his nineties; he couldn’t be getting up and down on his knees any more, but she knew one of those combustible fire starters that burned for twenty minutes and allowed a fire to get going easily would make all the difference for him.
Her mental shopping list grew longer.
‘There,’ she said, setting the fire mesh in front of the flames, lest there should be any sparks, and bringing the TV remote to the arm of his chair. The room flickered with a warm glow, the crackle of the wood as comforting and companionable as a pet. Talking of which, it might help bring his errant cat back too; she had a penchant for scratching and wandering off – Pabe could often be heard calling for her from the back step at night – and now Lee knew why. Cats liked comfort.
‘I don’t know what to say, my dear,’ he said, looking back at her with an expression of genuine amazement as she shrugged her coat back on, preparing to fly. She had eight minutes to collect Jasper. ‘I never expected any of this.’
‘It’s no big deal, but if it’s all right with you, I’ll pop over before I go to work in the mornings, just to get the fire going for you and replenish the logs.’
‘I can’t ask that of you.’
‘You’re not asking, I’m offering.’
‘No, I can’t,’ he protested.
She looked back at him, wondering how to convince him to let her help. ‘Let me at least do it until your new carer comes in a couple of weeks? You need to stay warm enough, especially with this cold snap we’re having. You know they’re forecasting snow?’
‘I heard. There’s even talk of the Elfstedentocht happening this year.’
‘Of course there is,’ she smiled, giving a roll of her eyes. Any time the thermometers dropped below zero for more than three days running, talk would start up and down the country about this being the year the iconic cross-country ice-skating race would finally be held again. But the odds were firmly against them; linking eleven cities over 120 miles, it hadn’t been held in over twenty years. The last had been in 1997 when she’d been eight and still living in the UK, but she had understood by her first winter here, a few years later, just what a huge deal it was for her adopted country. For the race to go ahead, the ice needed to be six inches thick all the way around the course and it had only been held fifteen times, since the first one in 1909; the doomsayers were convinced global warming meant it would never happen again and Lee suspected they were probably right. She checked her watch again. ‘Oh shoot, I’m late. I’ll see myself out. See you tomorrow, Pabe.’
She closed the door behind her with a click and a feeling – the first in a while – that she had done something meaningful wi
th her day. We’re going to do some good in this godforsaken hellhole today. She paused as she felt Cunningham at her back, in her ear. Always there.
Just not when it mattered.
‘You made it!’ Liam’s relief was evident as she slid onto the tall stool opposite him.
‘Seems like it,’ she smiled as he reached over and kissed her on both cheeks. She was warm, having cycled a few miles to get here. To her delight, the book had been gone by the time she’d unlocked her bike this morning, although she still had a niggle of concern that it had just been lifted by another passer-by, possibly even someone who knew about the distribution marketing campaign – apparently it had a hashtag on social media now – and assumed it was there for the taking. If it was fair game by the bronze feet of a boy statue, why not a bike basket too?
Still, what else could she try? She had no idea from what or from whom this person even needed saving; to go public, to put it on social media or the local press, to go to the police even . . . she could well do more harm than good. It was an impossible predicament.
She pulled off her hat and smoothed her hair of static, having a quick glance around the seafood bar. It was always a dazzling experience – rough, pale-pink brick walls highlighted by tall backlit mirrors, glossy white surfaces and a counter of seafood nestled on shaved ice.
‘Ooh,’ she said, looking down at the platter he had ordered for them both – smoked mackerel, shrimps, crab salad and smoked salmon. ‘Boy done good.’
‘I remembered you like the salmon with the avocado,’ he said proudly, pouring her a glass of wine and looking irritatingly handsome in his suit, a grey padded Loro Piana jacket slung over the back of his stool. Lee was pleased Mila wasn’t here to see him looking so good.
‘You’ve got an eye for the details, I’ll give you that,’ she said, picking up her glass and toasting with his. ‘Cheers, chap,’ she said in English.
‘Cheers,’ he replied in kind.
‘So how was your Pakjesavond?’ she asked him, spearing a morsel of mackerel.
‘It was fine,’ he shrugged, digging in too. ‘Just family time, you know.’
‘Oh dear. It sounds rather underwhelming.’
He shot her a weary look. ‘It just got a little repetitive having my father go on and on about why I haven’t settled down with a nice girl yet, that’s all.’
Lee spluttered. ‘Oh God. Does he have any idea about the reality of your social life?’
‘Of course not. He wants grandchildren.’
Lee laughed. ‘Well, he can have Jasper for the weekend if noise, mess and no food in his cupboards are what he wants!’
‘I’ll let him know,’ he grinned. ‘How was yours?’
‘Mmm . . . yeah, fine.’
‘Now who’s being underwhelming?’
‘We had Gisele Cunningham over.’ She shrugged.
Liam’s expression changed. ‘Harry’s wife?’
‘Yeah, I mean she was there on her own. I couldn’t just let her . . .’ She sighed. ‘The girl’s pregnant. What you gonna do, you know?’
‘No, I get it, it’s a nice thing to do. I just didn’t realize you were that close to her. I didn’t think you and Harry were on good terms . . .’
Lee smiled. Liam had a way with understatement. ‘We’re not. But I didn’t do it for him.’ She dipped a prawn into the garlic butter, remembering why she’d called Gisele in the first place, hunting down the letter-that-wasn’t. Dita’s words floated back into her mind too. The Americans have authority to arrest him on sight. She felt another ripple of fear shimmy through her. That had been two days ago and there’d been no word since; she’d expected Cunningham to have been picked up by now. Unless he was on the move again?
‘Anyway, what’s up?’ she asked him, determinedly pulling her thoughts back to lunch. ‘I know you haven’t called this emergency lunch so that you can find out about my riveting Pakjesavond with my five-year-old.’
‘True that,’ he sighed, dabbing a napkin to his mouth and taking another sip of wine. ‘I need to ask a favour.’
‘Oh yes?’ She arched an eyebrow, looking at him over the rim of her glasses.
‘It’s about Haven.’
Lee paused for a moment. ‘The singer?’ Or specifically, the ‘new Billie Eilish’, as Lee knew her.
‘Yes.’
‘What about her?’ she asked warily.
‘I need to get hold of her.’
Lee sat back in her stool. ‘Oh Liam, seriously? I am not hooking you up with Haven—’
‘No, no, it’s not for me,’ he said quickly with a frown. ‘Jesus, Lee, no, she’s a teenager.’
‘So who then?’ she frowned, spearing a chunk of crab salad.
‘It’s for my boss’s daughter. It’s her eighteenth birthday coming up and he’s doing this huge party for her. They’ve taken over De School, got van Buuren on the decks, but all she wants is Haven singing there.’
Lee stared at him. ‘You know that everything you’ve just said to me is abhorrent, right? I want, I want, poor little rich girl.’
He put his hands up in surrender, agreeing with her. ‘I know, you’re absolutely right. It’s disgusting. She’s already ruined. They’ve got too much money.’ He didn’t mean a word of it. Money was his god. ‘But that’s not my lookout. I just need to make this happen and secure myself the fat promotion I’ve been trying and failing to nail for the past three years.’
‘It’s the only thing you’ve failed to nail for the past three years,’ Lee quipped, munching on a slice of avocado.
He mouthed a silent ha-ha, looking around and checking no one had overheard. ‘Seriously though. If I could just pull this off, it could be the break I’ve needed.’
Lee looked at him. Liam was a cryptocurrency broker, although no one really seemed to know what that meant (including Liam). ‘It’s pretty sad you’ve got to arrange your boss’s daughter’s birthday party in order to move up in your job, isn’t it?’
‘I’ll take whatever edge I can find.’ He shrugged. ‘Please Lee, I know you know her. Wasn’t she at your party last week? If I’d known back then they wanted her, I’d have asked her myself; it only came up incidentally on our way over to a meeting this morning.’
Hence his last-minute text. She watched him as she sipped her wine. He looked desperate, and Liam was never usually jostled out of his elegant air of calm. ‘When’s the party?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘Tomor—!’ Lee spluttered. ‘Oh my God, Liam! Not a chance! You’ve got to be joking!’
‘I know it’s highly, highly unlikely. But can’t you at least ask her? Where’s the harm?’ He spread his smooth hands wide. ‘Her management won’t even put the request through. Couldn’t you just . . . text her direct?’
Lee groaned, slumping back in her chair. ‘Ugh, that could be really awkward, Liam.’
‘I would owe you. I would owe you so hard!’
‘No, no, I’m really not sure—’
‘He said they’ll pay seven figures.’
Lee groaned louder. ‘That’s disgusting! Do you know what good that money could be put to, instead of a spoilt little rich girl’s eighteenth?’
‘I know, I know!’ He cringed, hiding his face in his hands. ‘We’re monsters. Debauched pigs.’ He peered through his fingers at her with his big blues. ‘But can’t you at least just ask her. For me?’
Lee stared back at his puppy-dog eyes. They were wholly resistable to her, but to most other women . . . To Mila . . . Yet she already knew perfectly well she would be seeing Haven at the Hot dinner tonight. It would be far easier to drop it into conversation, face-to-face, than to have to send a text. ‘Okay, look, I’ll—’
‘Yes, thank you!’ he cheered, fist-pumping the air.
‘Wait,’ she said, shushing him. ‘I have a condition.’
Liam’s jubilation disappeared. ‘What sort of condition?’
She considered for a moment – was this the best idea she’d ever had, or the worst?
– then leaned in, resting on her elbows as she regarded him. ‘I want you to take Mila on a date.’
He stared at her, baffled. ‘. . . Mila? Our Mila?’
She nodded.
‘Mils Mila?’
‘Yes, Liam. That Mila.’
‘But she’s my . . . friend. I can’t take her on a date.’
‘Well, that’s my condition.’
He leaned in closer now too, pinning her with his extraordinary blue eyes again. She remained unmoved. ‘Lee, I’m not sure you’re quite aware of what happens on my dates.’
‘I am. And I’m not asking you to do that.’ She tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘I just need you to take her out and flood her with attention. Whatever it is that you do with women that makes them go ga-ga for you, do that. Talk to her – I mean, really talk – make her laugh, give her a good time. She needs the ego boost.’
‘But why me? It’ll just be weird if I start . . . doing that, with her. She’s my friend.’
Lee leaned into him. ‘Liam, are you saying you’re never friends with the women you date?’
‘I’m saying I don’t generally see women for long enough for them to become my friends. I’m like you. Hook-ups work fine for me. Work’s too crazy to commit to anything more.’
She sighed, hardly able to dispute his logic. ‘Okay, well, just pretend she’s not your friend for one night. Make out she’s doing you a favour going out with you, and then give her the best night of her life. Make her shine.’
‘That’s putting a lot of pressure on a guy,’ he laughed.
Lee smiled, knowing all Liam had to do was turn up and breathe for Mila to have the best night of her life.
‘I don’t know why you’re asking me to do this. Mils is stunning. There are loads of guys who would want to date her.’
‘Yes, sadly all of them married. Look, she’s just really down since her last break-up and she’s lost her confidence. She thinks men only want her as their mistress. You are the flirt maestro. Just build up her ego again and show her that not all men are cheating bastards so that we can send her back out there.’
‘There?’
Lee waved towards the city. ‘Out there. She’s threatening a six-month dating sabbatical and I for one don’t think I’ll survive her doing it.’