by Louise Voss
But he had hit a dead end. After speaking to a few of the larger hospitals in the area and trying to get information out of them, he had heard the same refrain several times: it was too long ago, and even if he was looking for a current patient, there was confidentiality to think of and court orders to obtain. He had also done more research into scoliosis while he was waiting on the phone. According to NHS Direct, if the curve was less than 20 degrees, and Melinda had said it was a mild curve, treatment was rarely necessary.
Declan turned away from the railing and started walking back to his car. He cursed when he reached it. A seagull – a giant one by the look of it – had crapped over the windscreen. He sat in the car and watched the wipers sweep back and forth, smearing the guano over the glass. It stank of fish, even though he’d only ever seen the gulls round here eating chips and doughnuts.
By the time he got back to the station his good mood had evaporated. His shoulder was throbbing and he just wanted to go home, watch a film and open a bottle of red.
But as he walked towards his office, Bob came bounding out, looking very much like a puppy that had been given a new ball.
‘Please tell me you’ve had some good news,’ Declan said.
He grinned. ‘Yep. Melinda Moore just called.’ He paused for a moment, perhaps picturing Melinda’s lovely bouncy hair. ‘She got a hit on the DNA.’
20
Amy
Wednesday, 24 July
Amy had sunk into an introspective gloom on the bus back from Soho. They hadn’t discussed the fact that Gary seemed to be accompanying her home, but she didn’t care either way. She hadn’t thought it through enough to wonder if he would want to stay over, or what repercussions this would bring, but she knew that she did not want to be alone.
Gary nudged her. ‘Say something,’ he said.
Amy looked out of the window of the bus, then focused in on her own reflection. Even in the dim glass, she could see the dark shadows under her eyes, and the worried pinch of her mouth. She felt as though she’d aged ten years in the last week. She turned back to Gary.
‘I don’t want to,’ she replied abruptly. ‘I can’t. If I start talking about her again, I’m going to panic, lose it, and there’s no point in that, not for either of us.’
He nodded soberly. ‘Fair enough.’
Neither of them spoke again until after they had alighted at the bus stop at the end of Amy’s road.
‘Will you come with me to take Boris out? He only needs to go round the block.’
‘Block. Sure, no problem.’
They fetched Boris from the flat and walked in silence along the dark, quiet, suburban pavements, the only sound the jangle of the brass connector of his lead. Amy kept opening her mouth to speak but her tongue was too dry. At some point, Gary reached out and took Amy’s hand, and she let him. His hand felt hot and dry in hers. It felt good.
When they returned home, Amy went to the kitchen. ‘Wine, or coffee?’
‘Wine, please,’ said Gary. He took off his shoes and left them neatly by the front door. Amy unstoppered half a bottle of red and was just sniffing it suspiciously in case it had turned into vinegar when Gary padded up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, making her jump.
‘Gary! I nearly dropped it!’ she said, more loudly than she’d intended, and Gary backed away, looking hurt.
She took down two glasses and poured them one each. When she handed him his, she leaned in close to him. ‘Cheers,’ she said, giving him a small, apologetic smile.
‘Cheers, darling,’ he said, looking unsure. She was still face to face with him, and when he’d had a gulp of the wine, she moved even closer until their foreheads were touching.
‘Thank you for being such a good friend,’ she said, so quietly that her voice was barely audible. ‘I couldn’t do this without you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he replied. His breath smelled nice, of beer and wine and mint. He reached to one side, put his glass down on the kitchen counter, and placed his arm back around her waist. ‘I’d like to be more than just your friend, you know.’
Amy froze, even though the admission wasn’t entirely unexpected. ‘Really?’
He nodded, making Amy’s own head nod in tandem where it was still pressed against his. His aftershave wafted up into her nostrils, and she felt a rush of tenderness for him.
She pressed her body closer to his. Suddenly she knew that the proximity of warm male flesh was the only thing that could make her stop worrying about Becky. Amy slid her fingers through the gaps between the buttons on his shirt, and stroked his hot, flat belly. It elicited a stab of lust in her so tangible that she gasped. It had been so long since she had touched a man’s body.
‘Amy,’ said Gary in a strangled voice, taking her wineglass out of her hand and putting it down next to his. She immediately wrapped both her arms around his waist, and in one fluid movement they were kissing, neither of them sure who had initiated it, and the kiss was effortless and so erotic that Amy wondered if her legs would even hold her up.
She kicked off her shiny black shoes, and suddenly she was three inches shorter than Gary, which made them both laugh. She stood on tiptoe so that she could carry on kissing him, and he pushed her against the kitchen counter so that she could feel his hard penis press against her. She moaned, and rubbed her fingers through his hair, and he reciprocated by sliding his hand up her top and into her bra, grasping her breast, kneading gently at her nipple with his thumb.
‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘Gary …’
He pulled away momentarily. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
‘No! No … please keep going …’
He grinned, but didn’t replace his hand on her breast. Instead, he pulled up her full skirt, his hand vanishing inside a mass of poppies and daisies on black cotton, and then Amy felt his fingers on the fabric of her silk knickers. It was like an electric shock, and instinctively she reached her own hand out to touch his erection. They stroked one another, kissing continuously, until time slowed down and Amy finally forgot about Becky, a momentary reprieve. Gary lifted her up bodily and sat her on the kitchen counter, and she yanked his jeans down so that she could wrap her legs around his waist and feel him even closer to her.
‘I want you, I want you,’ he whispered into her hair. Her knickers had come off but she couldn’t remember who’d removed them, or when. She reached into his jockey shorts and liberated his cock, almost climaxing just at the feel of his girth in her hand.
‘I want you, too,’ she said, pushing him away just for a minute to rip off her top and bra. Now she was only wearing the skirt, and the air felt good on her bare breasts as they bounced free. Gary peeled off his shirt and stepped out of his jeans, his eyes wide at the sight of her.
‘Condom?’ he murmured, and she shook her head, looking stricken. ‘Wait – there might be one in my wallet. Don’t move.’
She laughed. ‘Shouldn’t we go to bed?’
‘No. I want you right here in the kitchen. Don’t you dare move – I’ll be right back.’
He ran so fast over to his jacket that he almost tripped over Boris, which made her laugh again. While he extracted his wallet and searched frantically through it, she lifted her bottom so that she could pull the skirt away, too, and she was completely naked, next to her toaster and coffee machine.
‘Have you got one?’ she called, but then saw him bend over himself, and heard the crackle of the foil wrapper and the snap of latex.
I’m really going to do it, she thought, with mingled wonder, excitement and horror. With Gary! Good grief.
But she felt as though she had never wanted anyone so badly. He returned within seconds, his condom-clad penis sticking out in front of him, as naked as she was. His body was taut and muscled, just hairy enough, with tan lines above his knees, on his biceps, and around his neck.
‘You’re so gorgeous,’ he said, kissing her again. Very slowly and deliberately, he spread her legs as he moved his tongue in languorous circles i
nside her mouth, then down to take her nipple gently between his teeth. His finger traced matching circles around her clitoris.
‘You’re so good,’ she panted, and the compliment seemed to make him even harder. She could feel the tip of him rubbing against the sensitive opening of her vagina, but as she moved forward, desperate to feel him inside her, he backed away very slightly, teasing her. She couldn’t move any closer to him without risking falling off the counter, so she groaned, and tried to pull him to her. He did it again and again, always stopping at the point of entry, or just millimetres inside of her. She admired his self-restraint – she thought she would explode if he didn’t penetrate her fully soon.
‘Please,’ she begged, and he chuckled. He put his thumb into her mouth for her to wet it, then massaged her clit again. She closed her eyes and could already feel the first shudders of orgasm approaching in the distance. After all this time, she was amazed she’d lasted as long as she had.
‘I’m going to—’
‘Come!’ he yelled suddenly, and thrust his entire length deep inside of her with one smooth movement, filling her up. She shouted, too, incoherent cries as he pounded into her, lifting her off the counter entirely, smashing one of the glasses of wine to the floor where it exploded in a river of ruby red that made Boris yelp and hide in the bedroom.
Gary carried her like that across to the wall next to the fridge, still thrusting wildly. She clasped her hands behind his neck and leaned back, allowing herself to sail away on the waves of an orgasm so strong that everything went black, and her world shrank down until all it consisted of was his cock inside her, fucking her so hard that she saw stars light up the blackness.
Afterwards, they slid down the wall together to the floor, incapable of moving anywhere else. The wine and broken glass crept in a slow puddle towards them, and they watched it for several minutes, panting and wordless, Amy cradled in Gary’s arms. She noticed that one of the cups of her ivory bra was now stained with Merlot, and that some of the broken glass had gone dangerously close to Boris’s bowl.
‘Better get this lot cleared up,’ she said eventually, and staggered back to her feet. Gary just smiled up at her, all goofy and smug and satiated, but with a hint of his previous uncertainly back again. What next? It was a question she wasn’t ready for, not yet.
Her mobile phone rang from her bag in the other room, and Amy instinctively looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was 1.24 a.m.
‘Oh, my God,’ she said, and ran for it, not caring how she looked naked. Scrabbling in her handbag, she reached it just before it went to voicemail. ‘Hello? Amy speaking?’
She listened for a moment, her hand over her mouth. ‘Really? Right. OK. I’ll be there in half an hour. Thank you. Thank you very much.’
‘Who was it?’ Gary had thrown a tea towel down over the glass and spilled wine, and was already gathering up his clothes.
‘It was that barman, Olly. The guy that Katherine was with on Monday is back in there again, with another girl. I’m calling a cab.’ She paused. ‘Please don’t feel that you have to come with me.’
Gary looked her in the face. He was still flushed and his hair was on end.
‘Let’s go,’ he said.
21
Amy
Thursday, 25 July
Miraculously, the minicab arrived within seven minutes. Gary and Amy barely had time to try to make themselves look a little less as though they’d just had rampant sex, and to clear up the spilled wine and broken glass in the kitchen. Amy checked that the envelope containing the Xeroxed photos was still in her bag, and they set off, leaving behind a very doleful Boris.
The cab smelled strongly of body odour, and the driver was uncommunicative, which suited Amy fine. She was relieved that he didn’t question why they might be going out to a bar in Soho at 1.30 a.m. They hadn’t gone more than half a mile before Gary put his arm around her in the back of the car. She tried not to flinch visibly, but forced herself to relax into his embrace.
‘Hey,’ he said, kissing her hair, ‘did you know that Ben Folds Five are touring over here again this year? I think it’s in early December – shall we go together? I was going to go with a bunch of people from work, but I’d rather go with you. Not that my workmates aren’t cool, or anything – they totally are – in fact, you’ll meet them all at our summer party, it’s in a few weeks …’
Amy made a noncommittal sort of noise. She felt a prickle of irritation, even though she knew he was just trying to take her mind off Becky and their mission.
Less than an hour ago, they had been naked together, he had been inside her – but what made him assume that they were suddenly an item? Next, he’d be inviting her to meet his parents …
‘We’ll see,’ she said, and moved slightly away from him. He shot her a hurt look, but although she felt bad, she knew that she didn’t currently have the emotional resources necessary to start a ‘let’s not be too hasty here’ conversation with him. She decided she’d do it tomorrow; tell him that she just wanted to be friends. Hadn’t she already said that she didn’t ‘do’ relationships? Wasn’t that a bit arrogant of him to assume that because they’d had sex, all that would instantly change? Amy’s lip curled. Men were so obtuse sometimes.
The cab carried them round the South Circular, almost deserted at this time of night; just a few other taxis and night buses on the road, and the occasional urban fox streaking in and out of alleyways. Gary’s hand was warm on her upper arm, and for a moment she relaxed into his embrace. What was wrong with her? Why shouldn’t he start talking about the future?
But then didn’t men always start out being sweet and sexy and kind and loving? Look at bloody Nathan, she thought. He could do no wrong in her eyes, not for months.
‘What do we say to this guy, assuming he’s even still there?’ Gary asked abruptly.
Amy was relieved at the change of subject. ‘I reckon we just give him the spiel, show him the photo of Katherine without letting on we’re already aware he was with her in there on Sunday. If he denies it, then we can say we know. But let’s see what his reaction is. I hope he’s not going to be too drunk. That barman, Olly, said he’s pretty out of it.’
Gary looked at his watch. ‘It’s ten to two. He’s got to be a pretty dedicated boozer to still be out at this time. Or he’s high.’
‘Oh, yeah. That’s more likely, by the sound of him.’
By the time they got back to Old Compton Street, Amy had convinced herself that the man would no longer be there.
‘Can you wait, please?’ she asked the cabbie. ‘We won’t be longer than ten minutes or so – and we might be straight out again if the person we’re meeting has already gone.’
The bar was as empty as it had been the previous evening, but the feel of it was entirely different – instead of the happy-hour chilliness of a newly vacuumed pristine place where the chairs were neatly lined up at the tables, it felt exhausted, hot with the drunken exhalations of a night’s worth of punters, the floor sticky with spilled drinks and the tables and chairs every which way. Olly, the barman, had vast grey bags under his eyes, and was leaning wearily on the bar. He straightened up in surprise when Amy and Gary came in.
‘Didn’t really think you’d make it down. He’s still here – look.’
He jerked his thumb towards the recesses of the bar, where a row of square seating blocks upholstered in leopard-print fabric formed a kind of sofa. The man sitting there had two girls in short skirts on either side of him; he had an arm round each of them. There was an empty bottle of champagne upended in an ice bucket next to them, plus champagne flutes and shot glasses scattered across their table.
‘I ought to go and clear up their empties,’ he said wearily. ‘But he’s such an arsehole that I can’t be bothered. At this time of night, I really don’t need the sort of abuse he’s been dishing out all evening. I told him he was barred, and he just fucking laughed at me. Our bouncer’s not in tonight, otherwise he’d have been out on his ear.
’
Amy gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Thanks again. It was really good of you to call me.’
Olly shrugged. ‘I hope you find your sister and her friend. Can’t help thinking that the little twat might well have something to do with it. Watch out for him, OK, he’s a piece of work. Do you want a drink?’
Gary and Amy shook their heads.
‘Thanks, but we’ll just get this over with,’ Gary said.
They walked over to the group of three and Amy took out one of her A4 appeal sheets. She folded it in half so that the only photo visible was of Katherine and the giraffe.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, standing right in front of them. ‘Can I bother you for a second?’
The man looked her up and down. His pupils were vast and black, his face looked purplish, and his foot jiggled compulsively. Coke, thought Amy. No question. He was mean-looking, with a scar bisecting one eyebrow and thin lips, belly bursting out of an expensive-looking suit for which he had grown too fat. He had the appearance of a gone-to-seed boxer, even though he probably wasn’t yet forty.
‘You can bother me for as long as you like, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘As long as you sit on my face while you do it.’ He barked with laughter.
Amy blinked, and felt Gary tense next to her. She put a reassuring hand on his arm. The man slapped the thighs of the two girls with him and they laughed, too, but Amy could tell that at least one of them thought he was a prat. She put the sheet right in front of his face, as he seemed to be having problems focusing anywhere but her breasts.
‘This woman was apparently seen in here recently. Do you know her?’
Without even looking at the photo, his face changed, and he clamped his hand on his leg to stop the jiggling. ‘Are you plainclothes cops or what?’