‘Sorry. Just dozing.’
‘Any news?’
‘All quiet. All good.’
‘Fine,’ Solomon said, putting a hand on his chest. ‘Our brother – I don’t trust him to play his part. Keep a sharp eye on him from a great distance. He’s been given instructions. Make sure he’s playing to the rules. Let me know if there’s anything amiss.’
‘I will.’
‘Don’t let me down.’
‘I won’t.’
<><><>
Bodies were strewn about Suede nightclub, central Manchester. Not in the kind of numbers that gathered at the weekend, but there was a decent crowd. Two dancers in tiny black shorts were on either side of the bar on raised platforms. The music throbbed a frantic beat. Lights pounded in time to the pulse. Nathan was alone. He surveyed the bodies carefully from above.
Beneath him was an open staircase. Metal rails, wooden slats. He’d climbed it to find a strip of floor lined with cosy seating and a balcony. Nathan was leaning over the balcony now and studying the polished wooden floor and the illuminated dance floor and the girls moving to the music, barely clothed. It made a change from trying to hack into a bank account from his room.
Suede nightclub was Solomon’s fiercest competition. They were virtual neighbours and absolute rivals. Rhapsody was on Deansgate. Suede was around the corner. Nathan had often heard Solomon mention it, with venom in his tone. Nathan had never been allowed to plant a foot in this place in the past, but now that Solomon had cut him off like a gangrenous limb, Nathan was staging a pointless act of defiance. He knew none of Solomon’s clan would ever be seen in here. So he knew that in his mutiny, he was safe.
One girl caught his eye, and not because she was underdressed. She was a good dancer. She was wearing a short red dress that was neck high at the front, open at the back. No sign of a bra. Black shoes. The glint of glitzy, swinging earrings caught the light as she moved, arms raised, oblivious to his scrutiny. She looked tantalising and familiar. Nathan examined her carefully and dug around his memory. It didn’t let him down.
He smiled, relieved. ‘Interesting,’ he muttered sipping his drink, plotting his next move.
There were two staircases beneath him, ten metres or so apart. He picked the one where he was most conspicuous, the one nearest to . . . her name wouldn’t come, and paused half way down the stairs to glance over the dance floor and make a point of looking around the room as if he’d lost someone.
The exact moment she noticed him, he knew. He continued to scan the room without making eye contact. She was moving to the beat more carefully now.
Result, he said to himself and carried on to the bar, cutting across the dance floor and gently brushing past her, eyes elsewhere. Within a minute she needed a drink too. What were the chances? He ordered one gin and tonic and forced himself not to look at her. She was to his right trying to flag his attention without doing anything obvious. There was one guy between them. As Nathan paid for his drink, he ordered a bottle of champagne, and asked the girl behind the bar to bring it to his table with two glasses. He made a show of twisting around and pointing to the spot on the balcony where he intended to return to next. That done, he collected his gin and tonic and made his way to the closest staircase and back to the cosy sofa.
Then he waited for the champagne and for her. The champagne arrived first, followed a minute later by the girl in the backless red dress.
He saw her in his peripheral vision and sipped his gin. When she drew level, he fixed his eyes on her and smiled warmly and mouthed hi. She was stunned. She stopped walking and didn’t quite know what to do. But Nathan did.
He stood up.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I thought I knew you and now I realise that I don’t. You look very familiar. I suppose all the guys say that. It sounds like a really bad chat up line. I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Don’t be. We have met,’ she said, and her cheeks coloured.
Nathan feigned surprise. ‘Really? I thought I was just drunk. I have had too much to drink,’ he said. ‘Definitely. I’m told I’m far too forward and honest when I’ve had a few. You’ll have to forgive me in advance.’
‘Forgiven,’ she said, and glanced away from him to hide her blushing cheeks. She looked back at him and eyed the champagne. ‘Not drinking all that alone are you?’
‘I hope not.’ Nathan dropped into his seat. ‘Join me for a minute, would you?’
She hesitated, but not for long. Time to see what she was willing to share. Anything and everything, judging from the look in her eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken they were an appealing shade of green.
‘I want to say right now that I’m married,’ he said, displaying the wedding band he still wore. ‘I’m not trying to come on to you or anything, but a little company would be good.’
‘OK,’ she said, crossing her legs. ‘Who are you hoping to find in here?’
‘This is going to sound nuts,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping to see my wife.’ He leant closer. ‘We’ve separated. I keep writing her notes and texting her. I even wrote her a poem. Every Monday for the past month, I’ve told her I’ll be in here. You might remember me. There was a big case last year about my wife going missing.’
Her face didn’t register surprise, as Nathan knew it wouldn’t. ‘I remember you, Nathan,’ she said. ‘For what it’s worth, I always thought you were innocent.’
Nathan spread his arms on the back of the sofa either side. His left hand hung loosely and his fingers lightly touched her shoulder. ‘My wife was innocent too. We were both innocent, and both guilty. Such a mess,’ he said, leaning to the table, pouring the champagne. He filled both glasses and handed her one.
‘To new beginnings,’ he said, sipping.
She raised her glass and filled her mouth and swallowed. ‘What do you mean, both innocent, both guilty?’
Nathan turned his body to face her, to give her the full force of his attention. ‘I’m not proud of this, but I cheated on her before we got married.’ Nathan’s eyes filled, an accomplished trick that he could call upon at any time. ‘It wasn’t her fault, it was mine. So we went on honeymoon and she left me and I thought she’d drowned. It was her way of letting me know how she felt when she found out about . . . you know. So she was a victim. I was a victim. At the same time, we were both guilty of wrongdoing. Do you see? Naomi never expected all the media involvement. She’s young. It never occurred to her.’ He looked deeply into her eyes. She met his gaze wonderfully well. ‘I’m saying too much, aren’t I?’ he said, finally looking away. ‘How did you say we’d met?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Sorry. I’m making an idiot of myself, rambling.’
She touched his arm. ‘I don’t think you’re an idiot. And you’re not rambling.’
He managed a tight smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘My name is Kerry Marshall,’ she said, waiting for some recognition. Nathan kept her waiting just for fun, and narrowed his eyes. ‘PC Kerry Marshall?’
‘No kidding, you’re a policewoman?’ He smiled.
‘Yeah, even policewomen have a social life you know.’
‘I remember you now. You un-cuffed me and felt me up and down at the cemetery gates.’ He nodded his head and smiled, as if remembering something pleasant. ‘I remember thinking how good you looked in your uniform with your hair up.’
She grinned. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I’m being serious. See, I’m too honest when I’ve had a few. It’s a fault of mine. Naomi overlooked it because she’s that kind of person. There was only one thing she couldn’t forgive, which is understandable really. I wonder if she’ll ever give me another chance. I keep apologising to her, Kerry. Keep hoping she’ll let the past go and have me back.’
She lightly touched his arm again. ‘Give her some time.’
‘I torture myself wondering if she’s still seeing my brother. Ironic, isn’t it, that she turned to him for support and comfort and ended up falling for him?’
‘She was with him Christmas Eve,’ Kerry said, hanging her head a little. ‘I’m sorry.’
Nathan sat up straighter. Genuinely, he was surprised. This chick knew something and she didn’t look sorry at all. She looked ready to stir the pot and serve him something tasty. Perfect.
‘Christmas Eve?’ Nathan said, with as much concern as he could induce. He’d researched concerned looks very thoroughly.
‘I don’t want to upset you,’ she said, unconvincingly.
Nathan shuffled closer and placed a hand on her shoulder and left it there. ‘Kerry, I need to know. My brother has cut me off, and no wonder if he’s seeing my wife. If this is a dead end for Naomi and me, I have to know where I stand so that I can accept the truth.’
She produced a half smile – that is, she reduced the beginnings of a warm smile to half its strength. ‘Well, my police partner and I were following her on Christmas Eve in the early hours. We’re always on high alert for drunk drivers around Christmas and we watch for young people. More coppers out than motorists. Anyway, we pulled her over for using her phone. Long story short, she’d been to Dan’s and was on her way home and was nervous of being followed and didn’t even know how to get to her new house.’ She paused. Nathan held his breath. The music was at a great distance now. He watched her mouth, willing her to say the words. ‘So we did the decent thing and led her back to Bramhall.’
Nathan resumed breathing; the music rushed back. ‘That’s really helpful of you, Kerry. Thank you. Yes, it’s lovely, the new house. I can’t remember the street name.’ Nathan clicked his fingers, trying to summon it, not from his own memory, but from hers.
‘We didn’t go as far as the house,’ she said, sliding one smooth leg on top of the other. ‘We led her to the roundabout at the bottom of Bramhall Lane. She said she’d manage from there.’
‘Well, I’m gutted that she was with Dan, Kerry, but I’m grateful for what you did. I don’t know what we’d do without people like you.’
Kerry Marshall beamed. ‘Just doing my job, as the old cliché goes.’
Nathan picked up the bottle and started to refill both glasses. ‘Doesn’t sound like there’s much hope for my marriage,’ he sighed.
Kerry Marshall inched closer and lost the smile and replaced it with a sincerely meaningful look that was dredged from the heart of her bottom.
‘I’m really sorry, Nathan.’
Oh, sure you are.
<><><>
Camilla never mentioned New Year’s Eve in the weeks that followed. She hadn’t tried to compensate either. Henry had followed suit, neither mentioning the incident nor reminding her of a promise she couldn’t keep. So they’d returned to ordinary life, if that was what it was. It had become normal to speak to Camilla without really talking, and to be married to her without really being her husband. They were living in the same house without spending their lives together, seeing each other without really looking. The only way Henry could deal with it was to create some distance. And – to rub salt in the wound – Camilla seemed relieved.
They were alone in the house too, which only heightened the separateness. Naomi had settled back at college and Annabel had gone skiing with Joel, after which she was starting a new job in a shop – a pit-stop until she’d finally start a degree course in the autumn. Camilla continued to ferry boxes from the old house and bury herself in the work of sorting and organising, her speciality and her camouflage for not unpacking her own problems. Come spring and she’d set about the garden. She never stopped. Henry hated to use the word, but it popped into his mind all too frequently: lonely. Why had he taken early retirement again? It was the hundredth time of asking.
So one night, when Camilla had been in bed a couple of hours, Henry was at his laptop and another message arrived from Lorie. She was online. For the first time, Henry found himself drawn into a conversation. It was good to talk, even if talking meant silent finger jabbing.
‘Hi, Henry. Was just thinking of you all. Hope you’re finding your feet in a new area.’
Henry was past being cagey and unresponsive. If Naomi could resume her relationship with Nathan, then he could exchange a few words with Lorie. Better to build than to tear down.
‘Hello, petal. We’re doing fine, thank you.’ Henry paused to check if his nose was growing. It was more comfortable to deflect attention from himself. ‘I’m selling the car. I decided it was time.’
‘What, THE car?’
‘I’m afraid so – time to move on.’ It wasn’t really, but Henry didn’t entertain that thought. He daren’t.
‘Are you sure?’
No, but he typed, ‘Yes. Camilla wants rid of my Ford too, but that’s a step too far.’ Even the thought sickened Henry. A change of subject perhaps. ‘What are you up to these days?’
He clicked send and waited. Another message came back quickly.
‘I have a job. Had to give up on the nursing idea, but I’m working for an old friend. Can I ask a favour, Henry?’
The question was left hanging. Henry responded.
‘Fire away.’
Thirty seconds later, ‘I have some stuff at your house in Alderley Edge. Any chance of meeting you there to collect it?’
This stopped Henry. His fingers hovered over the keys. He allowed thinking time. It was all too easy to be accommodating, then have regrets.
After some thought, he wrote, ‘Camilla has been sorting things from the house. She may have let your stuff go. If it’s still there, I don’t see why you can’t have it.’
Henry’s mind was already searching the days of the week and coming up with Tuesday. Camilla religiously did the food shopping on Tuesdays. It was also the day she always stripped the bed and changed the bedding.
There was another reply. ‘Thanks, Henry. I’d really appreciate it. Can I meet you there one day next week? My working hours are flexible. Just give me a time to suit you.’
Henry was ready. ‘How about Tuesday?’
<><><>
Naomi had been at the piano playing the same sixteen bars for two hours. Her concentration had cracked. Her back was aching. She wasn’t in the mood. Her thoughts were straying to Dan, who wasn’t helping her nail her sixteen difficult bars.
She hadn’t seen much of him since her return to her studies. Work ensured that she was constantly tired and busy, but that wasn’t the reason. There’d been a glint of light, an easing of the strain surrounding her attendance at the college. She was starting to feel less like the unwanted ghost who haunted the place. A few friends from her first year had started to cast a friendship net her way again and she found herself caught up in it and accepting the odd invitation. Being grafted into old branches wasn’t so bad. When did inclusion ever hurt? The big question was almost written in their eyes at times, ‘So, come on, Naomi, what really happened? Are you actually a weirdo, or were you just married to one?’ No one ever said it though.
It was a relief to sense a thaw, a slow return to normality. Having felt like she’d been ostracised for months, the brutal truth was, she hadn’t wanted to be seen with Dan. Dan was inseparable from the past and those unspoken questions. Publicly at least, keeping Dan at a distance was a must.
As time drifted away from the previous summer and the events surrounding it, the shore of remembrance was turning misty for the kids at college. Naomi felt comfortably smaller. She blended more successfully into the crowds and turned heads rarely now. Having Dan around could prod memories, arouse feelings, renew suspicions, pull the drawbridge up and leave her on the outside, exposed and vulnerable again. Dan understood, or said he did. He’d agreed to hang back and be her invisible support. Siobhan was the only friend who knew about him.
Dan texted every day, rang every evening; never failed to be there. He never complained of being too tired or too busy or too sick of the craziness of it all. She was sure she didn’t deserve his patience.
Then one dark night in February, Dan had a proposal.
‘I want to see you every day for the next
fortnight.’
Naomi fell silent.
Dan carried on. ‘A date every morning at 6. What do you say?’
Naomi didn’t say anything, she laughed. ‘Why the next fortnight? Why every morning at six? Are you mad?’
‘Just the next two weeks. I’ll let you have weekends off, OK?’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Do you trust me?’ Dan said.
‘Of course I trust you.’
‘Well then! It will be a secret date. No one will see us. I’ll have you back before eight so that you can get on with your college stuff. Deal?’
‘What have you got planned?’
‘It’s a surprise. I’ll pick you up at the primary school gates at six tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.’
She laughed. ‘OK.’
<><><>
The alarm went off at five-fifty. Her phone was beneath the pillow to dull the sound. Naomi could see Siobhan’s shape in the darkness. She was clutching Snugpooh, her bear, and never stirred. Naomi dragged herself out of bed and threw her jeans and boots on and a warm jumper. She finger combed her hair, brushed her teeth and slipped downstairs to find a warm coat.
It was black outside – moonless and starless and no hope of the sun. She locked the door, looked up and down the dead street, and proceeded to the end of the path where an engine was running.
Her eyes stung. Dan was parked behind a white van. She got in the car.
‘Morning,’ he grinned.
‘What is this about?’ her voice was croaky.
Dan laughed and put the car in first and headed for the end of the street and indicated to turn right.
‘You’ll see.’
Ten minutes later, they pulled into the grounds of a big house. An outside light shone by the front door.
‘Who lives here?’ Naomi asked.
‘No one at the moment. They’re on holiday.’
Naomi had a few pangs of anxiety. ‘Whose house is it?’
‘A friend of mine, a doctor, Les Brown. He works on the children’s ward. He’s gone to Austria.’
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