‘Who’s Ken Shankley?’ she said as they settled on the bench.
‘A climber. One of our best customers at the school. First he used to come on his own, then he started bringing colleagues from GlobWasMan for what he called corporate-bonding weekends.’
‘GlobWasMan?’
‘Yes. They came three or four times.’
‘Did they ever bring a lawyer with them? A man called Ben Givens?’
Maryan sat, stroking her cheek with her right hand, round and round. Then she took it away and nodded decisively.
‘A tall man with greying hair, a bit curly? Rather arrogant?’
‘That’s right, and old acne scars.’
‘Yeah, it was him. He came once and he couldn’t climb for toffee.’ She laughed.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘He hated Ken for being so much better at it than him, and Ken teased him. Barry joined in, which is why I thought Barry liked Ken. That’s why I was nice to him. But it was never any more than that.’
‘So why did Barry think you wanted to stay in England for him?’
‘I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter now. I’ve drawn a line. Forgotten it all.’ Maryan looked uncomfortably at her watch. ‘Are you OK now?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Great. Because I’ve got another party of tourists arriving in Chelsea and twenty minutes to get there. They’ll get lost if I’m not there.’
‘You carry on. I’ll rest a little longer,’ Trish said, still not sure whether Maryan was a brainless innocent or a highly efficient actor with a scapegoat conveniently out of reach.
Still, the leaflet she’d given Trish had two phone numbers, as well as postal and email addresses. She’d be easy to find again.
David sat in the dark cinema, next to Jay, waiting till the ads were over and the film could begin. With luck that would fill up his mind and stop him worrying about what Jay was going to do next. He’d already mucked about with the overflowing rubbish bin in the foyer and threatened to tip it up.
The ads were flashing and noisy, trying to sell them jeans and cars and drinks, and Jay was fidgeting and muttering. Some of his breathy swearing was as bad as it had been on the night of the Scrabble drama. But at least he wasn’t screaming and yelling tonight.
He was being like this because David had insisted on getting tickets for Henry V instead of Kathryn Bigelow’s Near Dark in Screen Two, which Jay wanted to see because it was full of vampires and cowboys and lots of blood. At first when David had handed over the ticket, Jay had said it didn’t matter a fuck which screen it was for because there was hardly anyone about and they could just move from One to Two once the films had started and no one would notice.
‘George gave us the money for Henry V because of school,’ David had said all over again, knowing he sounded like a girl. ‘So that’s what we’ve got to see.’
‘He won’t ever know if we don’t.’
‘He would,’ David had said with conviction.
George could always tell what you’d been doing when you tried to lie. Anyway, David didn’t want to see any horror film. He wanted to see Henry V.
It was always easier to deal with set books if you’d got pictures in your head and seeing a film or some telly was the easiest way of getting them. And he liked the speeches, although he’d never admit it to anyone: ‘He that outlives this day, and comes safe home … will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, and say …’
It was partly the bit about coming safe home, David had decided as the woman with the torch showed them to their seats. And partly the thought of the yearly feast and the remembering and the courage needed for dealing with all those wounds and scars.
He liked the quiet bit before the battle, too, with the soldier Michael Williams telling the king the truth about ‘all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in battle’. He silently recited it in his mind again now while he waited for the ads to finish.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
The sound forced David to look at Jay again. All he saw were flashes in the dark. Then he understood: Jay had a cigarette lighter.
David sat on his hands. It would only cause trouble if he tried to grab the lighter or say anything.
Flick. Flick. Flick. In spite of the flashes no one was looking at them. Jay was right: there were hardly any people here.
David turned, twisting his neck so he could look across the empty seats towards the place where the woman with the torch had been standing when they came in. There was no sign of her or her light now.
A disgusting smell stuffed itself up his nostrils. Jay was holding the lighter to the back of the seat.
‘Fuck! It won’t light.’
‘Of course not, you fucking twat,’ David said, trying to sound like they all did at school so it wouldn’t set off one of Jay’s worst rages. ‘It’s fireproofed.’
Jay turned to him with the lighter’s flame bigger than ever flickering up over his face, making him look like a gargoyle.
David didn’t say anything else as he thought about grabbing the lighter after all. Jay let it go out and bent double to scuffle about in his schoolbag. David held his breath, wondering what was coming next.
The ads had finished and there was the old-fashioned black screen now, saying the film had been passed for exhibition to everyone. Then came the music. George had told him to listen out for the sound of a thousand arrows fizzing out of the longbows.
Jay straightened up in his seat at last and sat fiddling with something in his lap. Then he started flicking the lighter again. Concentrating on the screen, David hoped Jay would stop if he didn’t show any fear. The actors looked weird: wooden and made up like clowns. A smell of real burning caught in his throat and made him cough. In the silence afterwards, something crackled, and bigger flames lit up the space in front of Jay.
Trish went home in good time to oversee the boys’ prep and cook, only to find no sign of them in the flat. Instead, there was George sitting on one of the black sofas with Shelby Deedes, who looked very comfortable with her short legs crossed, a mug of tea in her hand and a plate of biscuits conveniently close beside her. They weren’t talking, but both stared at Trish as she took off her coat. Their expressions were self-conscious enough to suggest they’d only just stopped discussing her.
‘Hi,’ she said, trying not to feel that something important was being negotiated behind her back. ‘No boys?’
‘No,’ George said. ‘They went off to the flicks to see the six o’clock showing of the old Laurence Olivier Henry V. It seemed a surprisingly tame and educational choice.’
Shelby flinched visibly.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Trish asked too aggressively. She moderated her voice. ‘It’s one of their set books.’
‘Nothing’s wrong, if that’s what they are watching,’ Shelby said. ‘But the local cinema’s also showing a 1980s arthouse horror film called Near Dark. Are you sure they’re not going for that?’
‘Does it really matter? They’re fourteen,’ Trish said. ‘There can’t be many films worse than their beastly computer games.’
‘Jay is very susceptible at the moment,’ Shelby said, pursing her lips with a particularly prissy air. ‘Horror or violence on the big screen should definitely be avoided.’
‘I think it will be,’ George said comfortably before Trish could make a remark about Shelby’s refusal to take Darren’s actual violence half as seriously as this. ‘David swore they’d see Henry V, and he’s like his sister. They always keep their promises.’
Trish blew him a kiss.
‘Anyway, moving on,’ he said, acknowledging her gesture with a secret smile, ‘Shelby just missed them, so I thought we’d have tea to make up for her wasted journey. Jay hadn’t told me he’d arranged to meet her here or I’d never have let them go to the cinema at all.’
‘I can imagine. How irritating for you, Shelby,’ Trish said, trying to feel friendly. ‘But good in one way because I wanted to run something by you.
’
‘Oh yes?’ She sounded not just doubtful but actively hostile.
Trish bit her tongue to keep her own dislike in check. Then she smiled.
‘Jeremy Black may have told you that I’ve volunteered to pay half of Jay’s fees at Blackfriars, but I’ve been wondering since whether it might be better to find a boarding school for him. It would be a lot more expensive, of course, but it could be worth it to get Jay away from Darren for three-quarters of the year.’
And it wouldn’t be half as difficult as having him living here, she added to herself, then went on aloud: ‘What do you think, Shelby?’
‘Sounds ideal to me,’ George said with even more warmth. ‘Just what Jay needs. I’ll happily chip in the extra.’
Shelby wrinkled up her nose as though trying to get rid of a pungent stink.
‘Not a good idea,’ she said.
Trish was about to protest when George extracted himself from the depths of the sofa.
‘Tea, Trish?’ His warning voice told her he thought she was about to be unhelpfully provocative.
‘Thanks,’ she said, smiling up at him and trying to show she knew they needed to keep Shelby reasonably sweet for Jay’s sake. ‘That’d be great.’
She and Shelby watched George’s backview as he disappeared into the kitchen.
‘Boarding school would be divisive, Trish,’ Shelby said, recrossing her short legs so that her right foot stuck out. She was wearing diamond-patterned tights, which made her legs look even fatter. ‘I mean, why should Jay have so much, when the other two will never get a chance like that?’
‘Isn’t it better that one is saved than none at all?’
‘Not at the cost of the others.’ Shelby paused, uncrossed her legs, then offered a small placatory smile. ‘You see, there’s hope for the family now they’ve got the man who attacked Rosie.’
‘Have they? I hadn’t heard. Thank God for that. Who is he?’
‘A rough sleeper, who seems to have passed Rosie, seen her cans of White Star and tried to get them off her. Rosie fought back, which is why the beating was so bad.’
‘So, once more Jay was innocent when half the world was sure he was guilty.’ Trish looked at the other woman, hoping to see some signs of shame on her very pink face. There weren’t any. ‘He is worth helping, you know.’
‘Rosie’ll be dried out by the time she’s released from hospital,’ Shelby went on, as though she hadn’t heard Trish’s comments or didn’t think them worth discussion. ‘We’re arranging some family therapy so she can learn to interact safely with her kids when she gets home. If Jay’s taken away now and given all these extra advantages, the whole dynamic will be changed, and that could screw everything up for the other three.’
Trish wanted to push it, but George came back with her tea before she’d thought of a safe form of words.
‘You must be so busy, Shelby,’ he said, handing the mug to Trish. ‘We shouldn’t keep you. I’ll ask Jay to give you a ring as soon as the boys get back.’
‘Thanks, George. I’d appreciate it.’ She picked up a sacklike bag and stuffed a notebook into it. ‘Goodbye.’
‘I’ll see to your car. Back in a moment, Trish.’
She hoped he’d take the opportunity to dent some of Shelby’s prejudices against Jay. When he came back he was looking preoccupied. Trish sipped some tea while he flumped down beside her on the sofa.
‘She’s not such a bad woman,’ he said. ‘Although she was expecting to see Jay, she actually came to tell me I’ve been officially cleared. Which was good of her. She didn’t have to do it.’
‘Cleared? What on earth d’you mean? Cleared of what?’ George kissed her. ‘You’d forgotten, too, hadn’t you? Apparently Darren didn’t stop at telling Jay I was a paedophile; he told Shelby too.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Surely she didn’t take it seriously.’
‘She had to look into it. Come on, Trish, with all your experience in the family courts, you know what’s done to children. Any allegation like this has to be investigated.’
He was right. But it was different when it affected your own family.
‘You haven’t actually been interviewed by the police, have you?’ she said, appalled at the idea that she might not have noticed something so important going on in front of her.
‘Nope. Shelby’s too experienced to take anything Darren says at face value. When she asked for evidence, Darren talked about the trainers and the iPod and the Play Station – about which, of course, she already knew. So she was more or less sure there was nothing in it, but just to be safe she had Jay physically examined by a doctor.’
‘Poor boy,’ Trish said. That kind of physical examination could seem like an outrageous intrusion to anyone; to a damaged adolescent like Jay it might be unbearable. ‘As though he hasn’t had enough to put up with!’
‘Precisely. But there’s nothing we can do about it now. So, what would you like for supper? Shall I do the lamb? There’s time to roast it before the boys get back.’
‘Why not? Who’s that now?’ Trish said, as the iron staircase clanged outside her front door. A key crunching in the lock told them both. Trish snatched a look at her watch: it was far too early for the film to have finished.
David skidded in and came to an abrupt stop as he saw both of them staring at him.
‘What?’ he said with an aggression that was new.
‘What’s happened?’ Trish said, still wanting to protect Jay, still trying not to blame him for the way David was changing.
He shrugged and turned away, dragging off his jacket.
‘David!’ George said in a voice that made Trish flinch.
‘Something’s happened,’ she said, much more gently. ‘Can’t you tell me what it is?’
David stood where he was, shaking his head. His chin jutted as it had when he was much younger and she’d tried to make him do something he hated, like handing over his favourite clothes for cleaning or washing his hair.
‘Is it Jay?’ Trish said. David didn’t move, so she said: ‘Where is he?’
‘At the cinema.’
‘What did he do?’
He turned his head a little towards her and looked out from under his fringe.
‘Why d’you think he did anything?’
‘Because you look so worried. Did you fight? Did he—?’
‘He had a cigarette lighter,’ David said, looking at the floor and picking his nose. Now was not the time to tell him to use a handkerchief.
Trish thought of all the arson cases in which appalling damage had been done by boys of Jay’s age. Was this a reaction to whatever Shelby’s doctor had said or done to him?
‘He was trying to set fire to the seats in front,’ David went on, ‘but they wouldn’t light.’
‘No,’ George said in a reassuring voice, obviously trying to cool the emotional temperature. He smiled at both of them. ‘Too much fireproofing, I imagine.’
David’s pale skin was flushing. In spite of the colour, he looked more like his usual cooperative self. ‘That’s what I said too, so it’s my fault.’
‘What is?’ Trish asked, feeling as though they were all standing on the very edge of a cliff. ‘What happened when they wouldn’t light, David?’
‘I tried to concentrate on the film, so I didn’t see what Jay was doing. Not really. But he took off his socks and filled them with bits of paper torn out of the books in his schoolbag, then he draped them over the seat in front and flicked the lighter on again. I was still there when the first bits of paper started to crackle and smell. The flames were getting bigger when I left.’
‘Did you tell someone?’ George was keeping his voice impressively calm.
Trish searched David’s face and clothes for burn marks. There were none. Would Jay have been so lucky?
David nodded. George and Trish both breathed again.
‘I said if he didn’t stop I would. And he didn’t stop. So I told the person in the ticket booth, who was the only one
I could find. Then I came back here. I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but …’ His voice faded and he had another go at excavating his nose.
‘You were quite right.’ Trish remembered a fire at a private cinema in north London some years ago. A lot of people had died.
‘Try not to worry too much,’ she said. ‘Jay was probably only testing you, trying to find out how far—’
‘Why do you always have to talk about everything?’ he shouted. ‘It’s fucking boring!’
He stormed off to his room and slammed the door behind him.
‘Shit!’ Trish said. She looked up at George. ‘I should have handled that better.’
‘Yes,’ he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘Although you were right. Maybe not lamb tonight. I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing Jay and you won’t want a great huge lot of meat after that. I’ll go and turn off the oven, then I’ll phone the cinema and find out what’s happening.’
Chapter 17
Angie spent Saturday morning cleaning. The more she did, the more she understood how tired Polly had become, and how poor her eyesight must be. At first sight nothing in the house had looked too bad, but with every wipe of wet cloth or duster, more dirt had been revealed. Each time Angie moved a piece of furniture she saw curls of dust floating above years’ worth of grime and dead insects. There were hard black mouse turds too. But no sign of rats, which was something on an isolated farm.
When Polly came in for lunch, ahead of Bill, she was limping and one hand was clamped to the small of her back. Angie, who had her own aches, could see how much Polly hurt from the careful way she was breathing. But when she caught sight of the table, already laid, with cold mutton and hot vegetables, as well as a newly defrosted loaf and a hunk of cheese, she smiled.
‘What luxury! Thank you, Angie. Bill will be here in a moment.’
‘You look all in.’ Angie pulled out a chair for her. ‘Sit. D’you want some tea? Or just water?’
‘Tea would be great. But why haven’t you laid a place for yourself? You’re not going to pretend to be a servant, are you?’ Polly rubbed her eyes, then put back her glasses, blinking. ‘That would be silly.’
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