Bitter Moon

by R. L. Giddings

  I never normally drink during the day but I felt that I’d deserved it. You drink sherry at a Christening, I reasoned. So why not a G+T at a funeral? Even as I was watching the bath fill up I was making a conscious decision that I would limit myself to one drink. I didn’t want to set a precedent.

  I lay in the bath trying to picture Terence’s face but found that I couldn’t.

  Then I thought about Anja, the girl in the art gallery whose neck he’d broken. I could picture her very clearly. Both of them had died as a direct result of Stahl’s involvement, and to what end? It didn’t seem to make sense to me. None of it did.

  Not for the first time, I wondered if I would ever be able to go back to working at The Bear Garden. I had been so happy there once: just getting into the building had been cause for celebration. Now, I couldn’t think of anything worse.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I had to catch a bus to meet up with Millie. I’d checked the app on my phone before I set off. I could have gone by Tube but then I’d have had to have caught the same bus at the other end in order to complete my journey. This way was quicker and meant that I wouldn’t have to change. The rain hadn’t let up all day and most of the people on board looked bedraggled.

  I wasn’t happy with what I was wearing: white, distressed jeans with a pink vest under a short grey cashmere cardigan. I’d really wanted to wear the jeans with an off-the-shoulder black Bardot top which belonged to Millie. Normally, she would have been fine with me borrowing it but it didn’t feel right for me to turn up in a perfectly co-ordinated outfit if she was going to be coming straight from work wearing the same clothes she’d worn to the funeral.

  I mean - we are friends and everything - but there is a limit.

  Despite the rain, it was quite humid and the windows of the bus had steamed up, making it difficult to see outside. At one point I wiped the condensation away but when I stared out at the dark streets I came away with no idea as to where we actually were. So, it was a relief when my phone rang.

  It was Millie.

  “Hi! Just checking that you’ve not changed your mind.”

  “No, I’m on the bus right now. Had a bath and everything.”

  “Making yourself all fragrant for tonight?”

  My heart sank. She wasn’t trying to set me up with some bloke, was she? As a way of getting my mind off Silas? I certainly hoped not.

  “It’s not going to be one of those nights is it?”

  “Might be. Bad news is that the half price cocktail offer finishes at nine.”

  “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

  I could sense Millie thinking this over. “We could. Problem is that I’ve invited someone else to join us.”

  “From work?”

  “Not exactly. Carlotta. Spoke to her earlier.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  This was worse than I’d thought. I hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place, now I was going to have my love life pondered over by those two as they formulated a plan to get the two of us back together.

  I took a deep breath, “How did she get your number?”

  “Said that Silas had it on his phone.”

  “Sounds odd.”

  “Doesn’t it just. But she sounded genuine. Said that you two had gotten off on the wrong foot.”

  “Well, she’s right about that.”

  “So she wants to try and make amends.”

  “I’m not sure about that. Not after the way she messed me about.”

  The bus came to a stop and a couple of people got off. I was in half a mind to join them. I felt thoroughly disconsolate.

  “I know you’re annoyed,” Millie said after a while. “Tell you what, if you can stick with it for an hour I’ll pay for the cab home.”

  “An hour you say?”

  “Yeah, oh and I might be a bit late getting there. We’ve had a hell of a day. Tell you all about it when I get there.”

  She was going to be very late, that much was obvious. And I was going to be stuck making polite conversation with Carlotta. Why had I ever agreed to come in the first place? The evening was shaping up to be a complete disaster. It was nearly nine o’clock already so it looked like I was going to get to the bar first. I was self-conscious enough just being out of the house let alone sitting at a bar on my own. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Carlotta again but that couldn’t be helped now.

  Plus, by agreeing to come out for a drink I had done my bit to ease Millie’s concerns that I might be having some kind of break-down. I was going to be fine. This was all part of my rehabilitation. I’d sit in the bar, spend a fortune on a cocktail I couldn’t afford and make small talk with the sister of the man who wanted nothing to do with me. Perfect!

  The bus dropped me opposite a small village green. A light fog hung over the area partially obscuring the children’s play area which stood at the far side. I could make out the thin orb of the moon hanging over the burnished orange street lights. A collection of bars and restaurants hemmed the green in on three sides. According to Millie, the cocktail bar was over on my right.

  I crossed the road. There was an ornate Victorian gas light at the centre of the green and someone was standing just to one side of it, perfectly still. He was looking in my general direction but I couldn’t help but feel that he was watching me. I quickly looked away but not before I’d got a good look at him. He was dressed for the weather with one of those long, waxed riding jackets and a baseball cap. I assumed that he was out walking his dog.

  Only, he didn’t seem to have a dog.

  I didn’t look at him again. I concentrated instead on finding the cocktail bar.

  *

  I searched the whole place for Carlotta but she was nowhere to be seen. It was a nice, busy bar decorated with lots of dark wood and mirrors. For some reason I’d expected it to be some kind of student dive but it wasn’t like that at all: the clientele were that much older, well turned out and, judging by the prices, reasonably wealthy. I hung my coat up and went around to the side of the bar in an attempt to get served, it was a little less hectic around there. I decided to start with a beer. There was no point drinking a cocktail on my own. I mean, where’s the fun in that?

  It was a quarter to ten before Carlotta showed up wearing a white jacket and jeans. She was using her card to pay for her drink at the main bar. I felt guilty about not offering to buy it for her but, by the look of the designer hand-bag she was carrying, I assumed that she could afford it. She saw me looking at her and gave me a big smile. She indicated the machine and pointed at my drink. On a reflex, I held up the bottle and nodded. I thought that was a gracious gesture on my part: letting her buy me a beer. I could have gone for a cocktail but I didn’t want to look like I was sponging off her.

  When she’d finished paying for the drinks she brought them over to my side of the bar. A beer and a martini.

  “No, Millie?”

  “I think she’s been held up. I was just about to give her a call.”

  “I hope you didn’t mind me butting in like this?” she raised her glass in a little toast and I clinked my bottle against her glass. “Just wanted to apologise for earlier.”

  “Nothing to apologise for,” I said. I scanned the door, hoping to catch sight of Millie but instead I caught sight of myself reflected in one of the mirrors. I’d decided to wear my hair back and was surprised how well it suited me. Even the cardigan looked good. If I didn’t watch myself, I could be dating a nice Estate Agent before the end of the night.

  “I’m surprised you’re still here,” I said. “I thought that you’d be heading back up to Scotland.”

  “Oh no, I don’t live in Scotland. I’m at the L.S.E.. London School of Economics. I’ve got my own place over by Tower Bridge.”

  It took a moment for this information to sink in. She had her own place at Tower Bridge! I couldn’t even begin to work out what the rent would be for a flat in that area. But then I corrected myself: Silas’ family wouldn’t be renting. Th
at would be dead money. They’d have bought her a flat. It would be a sound investment.

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Not long, just over three months. I quite like it. It’s nice and central.”

  I vowed there and then that Carlotta would never be allowed to visit my flat. She’d be appalled. I was embarrassed just at the thought of it.

  “I’m surprised you’d want to drag yourself all this way out here.”

  She grinned, showing a lot of gum when she did so. “I’d have travelled a lot further.”

  “Really, I can’t see why.”

  She looked down then became suddenly serious. “I’m really worried about Silas.”

  I held up my hand. “I don’t want to know.”

  “I know he’s hurt you. I’m sorry about that but everything’s all messed up at present.”

  “Carlotta, I don’t think you understand. Initially, I was attracted to Silas, at least I thought I was, but now I’m not so sure. Werewolves…”

  I realised what I was saying but I didn’t care.

  “They make themselves irresistible to women but then it’s largely a chemical reaction. I admit, the first time I met him I was pretty overwhelmed. But now? I’m pretty much over it. What is that chemical they use again: pheromones?”

  “Something like that. Look, you’re right, when he’s transforming there is a lot of chemical stuff going on. But I’m not talking about how you feel about him, I’m talking about how he feels about you. He’s smitten. I’ve never seen him like this.”

  “I’m sure he’ll get over it.” I tried to keep all the emotion out of my voice but, on the inside, it felt like something had broken. I was the one who was smitten. I struggled to get a hold of my feelings. “Look, I thought he was dead. For all these months people have been telling me that I have to get over it. That I have to accept the truth. Well, now I can. Because, for all this time, he’s been sitting up in Scotland doing whatever it is he does, never once thinking to pick up the phone and let me know that he’s still alive. How little must he think of me?”

  Carlotta placed her glass on the bar before she started rifling through her handbag. It was a very nice bag. Millie had an almost identical one her parents had bought her for her birthday; only Millie’s was a copy. Carlotta pulled out a crumpled slip of paper.

  “Here,” she passed it to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a letter. He started writing it when he knew I was coming back to London.”

  I opened it up, smoothing out the creases. There was barely half a page of writing on it.

  “He didn’t finish it?” I asked.

  “He had an argument with my mother. Then he screwed it up and threw it in the bin.”

  I wasn’t impressed. I didn’t hide the scorn in my voice. “What was the argument about?”

  Carlotta’s shoulders dropped. “It’s not for me to say. But you must understand one thing: my family isn’t like normal families. There’s a lot of pressure on Silas at present to do the right thing.”

  I pressed the letter back on her. “I don’t want to read a letter you had to fish out of the bin.”

  Carlotta waved the letter away. “But you do need to speak to him.”

  She looked in her bag and pulled out her phone. “I’ll give him a ring and then you can speak to him yourself. You’ll see.”

  “No! No! No! No! No!” I started heading for the door. The bar had become much busier and I really struggled to get through the throng of drinkers. I had tears in my eyes as I approached the main door.

  What did she want me to do? Stand there while she chatted with him before passing the phone over to me. What was I supposed to do then? Inquire after his mother’s health? It was ridiculous. I had more self-respect. I refused to let him treat me so shabbily and then pretend as if nothing had happened. I unfurled the top of the letter and looked at it for the first time. There was an embossed family crest at the top of the page. Did people still use personalised stationery any more? Was that even a thing?

  A wave of self-righteous anger carried me out into the street. A couple of young men were arguing with the bouncers and I had to push my way past them. Voices were being raised but I got a sense that both sides were just going through the motions.

  I scrunched the letter up in my fist. I just wanted to get rid of it but there were no bins around. Plenty of cigarette butts scattered about but no bins. I looked across to the swathe of greenery at the centre of the square but couldn’t see one there either. I was looking around for the nearest bus stop when I remembered about Millie.

  I pushed the letter into my bag and took out my phone.

  I was instantly transferred to Millie’s Voicemail so I just ended the call.

  Almost as soon as I’d done that the phone started ringing. It was Millie’s number.

  I pressed ‘Accept’ and then someone was speaking who wasn’t Millie. A man’s voice but he wasn’t English. Cultured, European, his vowels clipped and precise. There was the slightest trace of an accent but I couldn’t place it.

  “Hello, Bronte is it? Good to finally speak with you. I’m afraid your friend can’t come to the phone right now. Things have gotten rather hectic.”

  I could hear raised voices and shouting in the background, but then another sound asserted itself. Like a milling machine sorting grain. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. Then someone screamed and the line went dead.

  Who was that on the phone and what had happened to Millie? A cold sweat prickled my skin.

  There was a motorbike coming down the middle of the road. A couple of cars had stopped at the lights leading onto the main carriageway. Neither one of them was a cab. I tried to calculate how far I was from the campus building. Too far to travel on foot.

  I stepped out into the road, holding up both arms.

  The motorcyclist swerved to avoid hitting me, narrowly missing a parked car in turn. Even though it had stopped raining the roads were still wet. The rider planted both feet on the ground, pushed his visor back and wheeled around in my direction.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

  I walked purposefully towards him, shortening the strap on my bag before looping it over my head

  “Bronte, wait!” Carlotta had just emerged from the bar.

  “Millie’s in trouble,” I shouted. “Whatever it is will have to wait.”

  I strolled up to the motorcyclist who was man-handling his wheel away from the parked car.

  “Look,” he said. “If this is one of those insurance scams ...”

  “It’s not an Insurance scam. I’m just in a bit of a hurry and this looks like a seriously fast bike.”

  He regarded me with fresh eyes. “Nought to 60 in 4.2 seconds. Top speed of 158 although I think you’d be hard pressed to get that on these roads.”

  “Fantastic. Now, do you know where the University Halls of Residence are?”

  He curled his lip, obviously disappointed. “I do, but haven’t they been closed down?”

  “They’re about to be re-opened.”

  I went to throw my leg over the saddle but he stopped me. He eased himself off the bike and then located a catch under the seat. The whole thing hinged upwards allowing him to reach in and retrieve a second helmet.

  “I’m alright, thanks. We’re not going far.”

  He tossed the helmet over to me and I struggled to catch it.

  “No helmet, no ride.”

  *

  As we drew closer I could see that the sky over the halls glowed bright orange. Something twisted in my stomach. I didn’t need to give my new friend any instructions. As he indicated to turn into the entrance of the campus I recognised it as the one Carlotta had used the previous day: the eastern entrance. With a slight shift of weight, he brought us through the main gate and, after a series of smooth down-changes, pulled up in the coach bay. I took off my helmet and handed it to him.

  “Thanks very mu
ch for that.”

  “Anytime. What’s going on? Some sort of house-party?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” I patted him on the shoulder and then looked around. Where was the security component? Had they been completely overwhelmed? I set off across the grass in the direction of the Secure Unit. Behind me I could hear the motorbike pulling away, giving a little roar of acceleration as it re-joined the main road.

  If this had been a standard emergency I would have just called the office and left the Ministry to deal with it but there was nothing standard about this. Millie was on the campus somewhere and, by the sound of it, she’d already been caught up in the action. And, from the glow in the sky, it looked like everyone was going to have their hands full. There was probably only a skeleton team of people on duty and, clearly, they’d been overwhelmed. No doubt one of them would have rung for help. I’d be just another caller jamming up the switchboard.

  The Secure Unit was perhaps three hundred metres to the southwest of me and I supposed that would be the focus of the attack. That was supposing that they were after Stahl, in which case Kohl was almost certainly involved. If I could steer clear of the Secure Unit itself then I’d be able to stay out of harm’s way until I could work out what was going on.

  As I drew level with the entrance to one of the halls of residence I realised that all the lights were out. The entrances and stairwells of these type of residential blocks were normally lit up at night to make them more welcoming. Now, they had been transformed into gaunt parodies of themselves, the entrances dark and foreboding. I didn’t fancy going in there unless I could help it.

  The thing that was really starting to concern me though was the fire. I was close enough to smell it now. But what exactly was on fire? The Secure Unit hadn’t struck me as being particularly flammable, which sort of suggested that it might be one of the actual accommodation blocks themselves. Was there a chance that I was wrong and that the attack was aimed at the Novices instead?