by Dan Malakin
‘You want to grab a coffee? Work out what to do next?’
‘I’m going to be late getting Lil.’
‘We can’t leave it like this.’
She checked her phone. Just before nine. ‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Let’s find somewhere near the station.’
Konrad gave her a relieved smile. ‘We can go to the – oh! Big problem.’
‘What now?’
‘Who’s going to pay?’
Chapter Twenty
Mum
Konrad borrowed ten pounds from his father and took Rachel to an artisan café on the high street called Bakehouse, the kind of place with chalkboard menus, industrial light fittings, and a million types of gluten-free muffin. ‘He’ll be as annoyed about that ten as the rest of the money,’ Konrad had said, as they’d hurried through the spitting rain.
The café was busy with the Sunday brunch crowd, a melee of raucous kids and hungover parents. The smell of baking croissants wafting from the kitchen competed with drizzle damp clothes and last night’s wine burps. Konrad went to order at the counter while Rachel ducked out to ring Mark. She’d missed his call on the way over.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ she said, sheltering in the next doorway along. ‘I’m just running–’
‘You do this all the time,’ Mark cut in. ‘You say one thing, then you change it at the last minute, and we’ve all got to drop everything to accommodate you.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘I’ve got plans this morning.’
‘I’ve said I’m sorry.’
‘I’m not joking, Rach. I’m sick of being your skivvy.’
Where had that come from? Yes she was late, but it wasn’t by long, and he never did anything on Sunday morning beside watch Nickelodeon and scratch himself – and it was her birthday! – so he didn’t have to be such a dick about it, to be honest.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘Give me an hour. I’m just–’
‘No. I won’t give you an hour. I told you, I’ve got plans. So get someone to pick up Lil, or better yet, take some responsibility for your life for once and get her yourself!’
Mark hung up before she could reply. What was that about? He’d never spoken like that to her before! Her brain raced back to yesterday morning, his apartment. What had happened? What did she do wrong? She couldn’t think. Her mind was a fog. She called her dad; if he couldn’t get Lily, Rachel would have to tell Konrad she’d speak to him later. Thankfully her father picked up and said he’d go round.
Back in the café, Rachel found Konrad at the end of a communal table. ‘Weird sitting here without a phone,’ he said.
‘Like primitive times,’ she replied, sliding onto the bench.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Mark’s not happy. I had to call my dad.’
Konrad cleared his throat and looked at her imploringly. ‘You do believe me, don’t you, Rachel? I know how it looks, with me owing money and yours getting nicked…’
She wanted to believe him. As he told her what happened in his room, looking so sad and vulnerable, she’d been sure he was telling her the truth. But now her brain had sifted through everything he’d told her, doubts were appearing. His explanation sounded feasible, and it did fit in with the idea that Griffin was behind it all, trying to break them up. Plus his offer to go to the police pointed to his innocence… It was just, the whole thing was so elaborate. So clever. Like on a grand scale. Alan Griffin was many things – cruel, manipulative, devious – but this was a world away from hiding a camera in a tree to steal her passwords. Yes, if he was planning on stalking her again, he’d want to get rid of her boyfriend, and she could see how he could’ve got involved with gangs or something in prison, the kind of people who’d do him a favour by extorting money out of Konrad. But stealing money from bank accounts? That was serious stuff.
Something about it still felt off.
‘Oh, sorry,’ he said, looking away. ‘I just thought…’
‘It’s a lot to take in, is all.’
‘You kept stuff from me too.’
‘I know, I know–’
‘I mean, my car…’
Rachel put her hand over his. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so exhausted, I’ve barely slept for days. I’m not thinking straight. Of course I believe you. It’s him, I know it’s him. He’s trying to break us up.’
Konrad leaned in and took her hand in both of his own. ‘But we won’t let him, right?’
‘The last few days have been so horrible. I feel like I’m losing it.’
‘Jesus, me too. It’s been… It’s been brutal. But we’ll beat this creep together.’ His pale green eyes went suddenly bright, his smile deepening to make the little dimple in his left cheek she always loved. ‘In fact, remember what we were talking about before all… you know, all this. About me moving in. Might not be such a bad idea, right? Have a bit of muscle around the place.’
The switch in his mood made her flinch. She couldn’t work out if she was intuiting something wrong in his behaviour, or just feeling jumpy and paranoid, because she’d suddenly realised – she still had no evidence that it wasn’t him. And the fact remained that her money was gone. What if Konrad had humiliated her, stolen from her, and was now not only getting her to take him back, but charming his way into living with her?
‘It was just an idea,’ he said, letting go of her hands.
‘I’ve got to get through today,’ she said.
‘Sure.’ He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, as though it were bitter. ‘Whatever you say.’
After coffee, Konrad went home, to come clean about the missing money. Rachel said she’d give him a call later on his parents’ landline, and jumped on the tube. All the way back, she swung from berating herself for even thinking Konrad had done anything to harm her, to picking apart his story like a legal defence team, to resolving never to see him again, because if there was even an atom of doubt in her mind that it was him – and not just him, what about Pete? That fake tax letter to their business? He was quite involved in all this, with that and the dick pic, now she thought about it. And if either of them were involved, then she could never see Konrad again. She couldn’t expose Lily to that risk.
Rachel wasn’t thinking straight. Of course it wasn’t Pete. This was the bloke who spent half the night on Konrad’s birthday staggering around with his fly open because he was too drunk to button it up. A criminal mastermind he was not. And Konrad! What had he done wrong? Nothing, except been her boyfriend. Because of her, he’d been beaten, burned, drowned, and scammed out of all his things. Griffin had done this. Alan Griffin. So what if it was elaborate? He’d had eight years to plan his revenge!
When she got home, she’d call Konrad. See if he wanted to come over later. Start rebuilding their relationship.
But what if it was already ruined? What then? Could she take Lily and run away? Sell the house, start afresh? The way the area was changing, gentrification reaching even her high street, transforming caffs into cafés and corner shops into mini supermarkets, it was probably worth quite a lot.
Rowena, who worked on the ward before Spence, lived in Australia. Didn’t she have a job at a private practice in Sydney? Rachel pictured herself on Bondi beach with Lily, sitting on a towel and looking at the swelling sea, the sun drying the water from their skin. Maybe they could learn to surf together? They could go out every morning, early, while it was still quiet, to lie on the boards and chat about some boy Lily fancied at school while waiting for the next wave.
As quickly as the daydream came on, it disappeared, and she was back in the clammy carriage, back to her dry throat and burning eyes and headache.
Back to being terrified of what was going to happen next.
When she got home, her dad was watching Frozen with Lily. Rachel breezed in, smile rigid, saying, I’m just getting a drink as she headed straight to the kitchen. She yanked open the cupboard under the kettle and rooted inside for her tub of Ensure. Where had she put it? She couldn’t find
anything in this house! It was filthy in here, that was why she couldn’t think. She found the pastel green tub behind a stack of breakfast-crusted bowls on the counter, and fumbled off the lid. No clean glasses. She flipped on the tap, found a mug that wasn’t too dirty, and ran it under the water, using her fingers to–
‘I’m glad you’re back, love.’
Rachel spun and yelped, nearly dropping the mug. ‘Bloody hell, Dad,’ she said, pressing a shaking hand to her chest.
He was standing by the fridge, shoulders hunched, like she was the one who’d summoned him, and he was expecting a telling off. ‘I got you a card,’ he said. ‘Little something in there for you and Lily. It’s by the telly.’
‘Oh… thanks, Dad.’
She saw his eyes catch the open tub of Ensure, and his mouth tighten. ‘We need to talk.’
‘This isn’t the right time.’
‘I know I was away for a long–’
She groaned and turned back around. The tap was still running, so she filled the mug and turned it off.
‘No,’ he went on. ‘I’m going to say this and you’re going to listen. You’ve got a lovely girl there. A beautiful little girl. Don’t do what I did. Don’t do what your mum did–’
Rachel slammed the mug down and faced him. ‘I told you, I don’t want you talking about Mum!’
‘You know nothing about your mum.’
‘I know what you did to her.’
‘You were a baby.’
‘I was eight when you left!’
‘You only heard what she told you.’
No way. Rachel had been there, she knew what happened. She was the one who grew up with her parents! Although she could think of a few more accurate terms to describe the experience. She survived them, she suffered them, she bore the brunt of them. Not that either was cruel, more they were too caught up in their own psychodrama, with her eating and his drinking, the two of them forever shrieking and bellowing at each other, until they were both gone.
‘This isn’t about me, or your mum,’ her dad said, wiping his brow with his sleeve, leaving a dark sweat patch on the denim. ‘This is about you. You’re shrinking in front of me. I can’t just stand by while–’
‘Then leave.’
‘I watched your mum do it, and I won’t–’
‘After you left to get pissed with your mates–’
‘I was on the streets. I was homeless.’
‘Good! You deserve it. I hope it was cold and miserable every night.’ Her heart was pounding, her body trembling. Who was he to tell her off? He had no right. None at all.
‘I didn’t want to leave you,’ he said, his voice not much more than a whisper. ‘But she wanted me out. She said it was because of the drinking, but I was never violent. I never hurt her, or you. Think about it, love. I never did anything, did I?’
‘Fine, you didn’t beat us up,’ Rachel said.
‘So why would your mum throw me out?’
‘Because you were a drunk.’
‘She wanted me to go so she could, you know, end it. That’s what really happened.’
An image of her mum on the back step flashed in her mind, her thin fingers lifting a cigarette to mouth as she stared at the darkening sky. Was she expected to believe he was the victim here? ‘I’m not listening to you.’
‘She got rid of me, then she got rid of you–’
‘No – that’s not what happened. She was sick.’
It was infectious, her illness, that’s why Rachel had to move in with her gran. She remembered her mum explaining, tears in her eyes, that it wouldn’t be for long, a few weeks at most.
‘I won’t let you do the same thing to Lily,’ he said.
Rachel looked at her dad, and a strange laugh escaped from her lips. Here he was, this man who she barely knew, this impostor of a father, lecturing her about how to be a good parent!
‘Get out,’ she said. ‘You get out right now, or I’m going to throw you out.’
He faced her, back straight, tall enough to tower over even her. ‘How many times has the little one stayed at mine the last few weeks? Four? Five? She’s with Mark some nights too, right? You can’t see it, but I–’
‘But you nothing!’ She dragged him away from the fridge. ‘Get out – get out now!’ She pushed him back through the living room, towards the front door. ‘And don’t you worry about your granddaughter staying with you anymore, because you’re never going to see her again!’
Chapter Twenty-One
Text
Rachel gnawed the back of her knuckle as she stared at Alan Griffin’s face on LinkedIn. Such a nothing bloke. With his office hair and dumpy cheeks and boring eyes. The kind of man who cared more about the football results than his kids, who complained about his wife getting fat while he busted out his belt. It was the same picture as before he went to prison. But what had changed was his status.
I’m available for work after a long absence, and am open to all suggestions. Please contact me.
This was her last lead, and she was excited to see it hadn’t come to a dead end like the rest. He had no other social media presence, his Twitter and Facebook accounts were gone, and no-one had posted on the paedo-hunter forum since reporting his release, but here he was, on her screen, looking for work – after a long absence. He made it sound like he’d been caring for a sick relative, or been on a round-the-world sabbatical. Bullshit to that. She wasn’t going to let him get on with his life while he simultaneously tried to ruin hers.
But how was she going to stop him?
She realised her jaw was clenched and her finger was tapping rapidly beside the keypad, so forced herself to take a deep breath. Tell Mark, that was the obvious thing to do, get his take on it. Except, she’d already found Griffin, he was right here, so what help would Mark be realistically? Especially when, as she looked at the LinkedIn page, a plan was beginning to come together in her mind. And she knew already that he would not approve.
Lily scrambled over the sofa towards her as the bombastic end-credit version of Let it Go began. ‘Can we watch Frozen again?’ she asked, her mouth pulled into a pleading angelic grin. At least she seemed happy. After Rachel threw her dad out, Lily had stared at her, lip trembling, and wailed, ‘Where Granddad go?’ as though he’d been smacked by a bus in front of their eyes and flung over a fence.
‘Why don’t you do some colouring, sweetness?’ Rachel replied. ‘Or play with your Lego.’
‘But I want to watch–’
‘Okay, okay,’ Rachel said, starting it again. She felt guilty enough already about Lily sitting here all afternoon, watching the same film on repeat – especially as she hadn’t seen her for a whole day – but she had to do this, she had to take action. Griffin had stolen her money and tried to destroy her relationship. Enough was enough. She wasn’t weak, not this time.
She wasn’t going to be a victim anymore.
She went back to the LinkedIn login page and moved the cursor over the Join Now button. Could she really do this? Create a fake profile, send him a message saying she had a job, and ask him to meet for an interview? What was to stop him from turning around and leaving? Or acting as though he had no idea who she was? Maybe she could bluff, tell him she had evidence that he was stalking her again? Or she could threaten him. Say she’d write to every recruitment company in the whole country if she had to, telling them what he used to do to her. By the time she was finished, he wouldn’t get a job delivering ice to the arctic!
Or what if Konrad bundles him into a car, they drive out somewhere remote, and finish this once and for all.
Was that so crazy?
At first, creating the profile was easy – she chose a name, Sophie Thomas, as generic as she could think of, and selected a stock photo of a well-groomed blonde woman in her mid-twenties, wearing a cream blouse and black blazer – but then she got onto the employment history section and stalled. What did she know about IT recruitment? Before Griffin went to prison, he worked as a software engineer, s
o the job would have to be like that to definitely interest him. It didn’t help that sharp snippets from the row with her dad kept cutting into her thoughts. The nerve of him. Standing in her kitchen and giving out parental advice.
What next? Fire safety tips from an arsonist? Stock market recommendations from the bag lady pushing a shopping trolley down the Holloway Road? Rachel could parade Lily before social services in a bin bag and still be ten times the parent he ever was. Because he left, her mother died. Because he left, there was no father to protect her from men like Alan Griffin.
That was the truth.
She pushed the laptop aside. This headache was making it impossible to think. No doubt she was dehydrated. She stood to get some water from the kitchen, but straight away her head went light, her fingertips tingled, her heart flapped in her chest like a fish on the deck. She flung out her hand for balance, sure she was going to black out, but instead managed to guide herself back down onto the sofa. A sheen of cold sweat covered her skin. Just breathe, take five minutes. Not enough sleep, not enough food, too much stress – a toxic combination. At least Lily hadn’t noticed her mum’s distress.
Rachel went to stand again, slower this time, but a double rap on the front door made her jump to her feet. That was Konrad’s knock, but he had keys. Was someone pretending to be him? Her eyes darted around, looking for a weapon. Had she put the knife back in the cutlery drawer? She got a vague mental picture of hiding it under the sofa. She dropped to a crouch and patted around her feet.
The letterbox clattered, and Konrad shouted inside. ‘It’s me.’
‘Coming,’ she replied, and hurried to open the door.
‘Sorry, your keys are somewhere in the mess in my room,’ he said, holding out a bunch of daffodils, tied with a silver ribbon. He was wearing a white polo neck, a skinny black blazer, and a cautious, but optimistic, smile. ‘These were in the garden, and I thought, you know… Happy birthday, Rachel.’