by Mark Ayre
“Luke had nothing to do with Alex’s death.”
“Then who did?”
Again she might have thrown the coffee but again held her temper - just. Taking a sip, she found it too hot and placed it down. She took a sachet of milk and added it, stirring the cup.
“I don’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t matter. Just tell me about Luke. Tell me where he is, please. I’m his sister, and he left me. I just want to see him again.”
He tried to analyse the situation. It could be a ruse. If she believed he knew where Luke and Charlie were, maybe this seemed the best way to open him up, but he didn’t think so. She genuinely loved her brother and wanted to see him again. After everything he had done, James could barely believe it. Then again, Luke had a way of wrapping people around his finger. Sema, Amy… Would it be so odd to add his little sister to the list?
“Are you the only person who cares about your brother?”
“You know I am. Mark never liked him, and mum and dad were happy to toss him aside when he wouldn’t be their puppet. I’m the only one who loved him for what he was. Who never wanted him to change. I’m the only one who thinks it would be good if he ended up with Charlie, and who wants to see him again, just to see him.”
James pondered this. Wondered if Emma knew Luke was not Charlie’s father. He doubted it and decided to keep that to himself, if only for the time being.
“I’m not sure you’re right. It’s difficult for a parent to turn their back on a child. No matter what they do.”
“You don’t know my parents.”
“I know George has been protecting Luke.”
Again, this surprised her. She drank her coffee, and although it no longer burned her, the milk didn’t seem an enjoyable addition. After the smallest sip, she replaced the mug.
“What makes you think dad’s protecting him?”
He drummed his fingers, examined his hand, and tried to decide whether to lay his cards on the table. Tough choice, but holding them offered no apparent benefit, so he took the risk, and told what he knew. As he spoke, telling her about George sacking Mohsin for raising his Becky suspicions and keeping James’ Sema information from the police, he watched her. Hoping she would give something away. But she was good. She showed nothing and didn’t speak once he finished. Taking time to compose herself by drinking more of the coffee she hated.
“Why would George protect the son he loathes?”
James smiled at the naivety of the response. Emma hated that but didn’t speak up, so James explained.
“Cheats produce cheats. Maybe George blames himself for making Luke the sort to sleep around?”
“You’ve done your research. Found out a lot. But not enough.”
Another stir of her coffee, though this time she didn’t drink. He was halfway through his. It wasn’t pleasant, but he needed it. He waited for her to speak.
“It was like a right of passage for us, catching our father cheating. For me, it was a girl named Alice Blue. She slept with him a while then left to become a DJ at a London radio station. Like Mark, I accepted it pretty quick. Just the way things were, but Luke never could. He hated dad’s cheating. Hated it.”
“Seems pretty hypocritical.”
“My brother never cheated.”
This time it was James who wanted to throw the coffee. She spoke as though removing the affair aspect made what Luke was doing to the young girls in his care okay. James’d never believed in brainwashing, but this was it, what Luke had done to his sister. It didn’t look like it did on the telly, it was subtler, and all the more effective for it.
“How did you find out about Sema?” she asked, and when he told her, she continued to smile. When he went to ask more, she shook her head. “I’ve no interest in getting involved. Not any more. Tell me where my brother is.”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“When did you last see him?”
“Three months ago. We fought. I’ve not seen him since and don’t want to again. Unless it’s in finding Charlie.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Emma watched him a long time. When she was satisfied by whatever she had been trying to work out, she shoved her three-quarter full mug over to him and rose.
“Have this. If you want to know about Luke, Sema, and Becky, why not go back to EKC? I believe Sema is giving a little talk in the canteen this afternoon to which Becky will no doubt be listening. You may get to speak with them.”
“What do you know?” James said as she slid from her chair.
“I know everything. I just don’t think you’d listen. Speak to Sema. Find out for yourself and pay attention. This is serious. If Luke gets in touch with you, tell him I need to see him. Tell him I want to leave with him. Will you do it?”
“I won’t speak to him.”
“Will you do it?”
“Fine. If he happens to call.”
She nodded, satisfied, then looked at the counter, and the elderly couple who remained in the shop.
“Drink fast. I doubt they’ll put up with you much longer after I’ve gone.”
She went.
Seconds after Emma’s departure, the once friendly lady behind the counter circled it and approached. Had she reached him, he was being turfed out and didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Downing the rest of his coffee and leaving Emma’s, he rose. Smiling at the woman, who veered off to clean an already clean table, he jogged to the door, going with a quiet thanks that might not have been picked up, and wouldn’t have been appreciated if it was.
He crossed the village as fast as he could, head down, avoiding anyone he saw, sure if he was recognised a cry would go out, and the hordes would be upon him. Being a small village, there were few people around, but in some ways, this was worse. On the packed streets of a city thousands passed but none saw. In a village, everyone knew everyone, examined everyone, so the acknowledgement of one person could be fatal.
Luck seemed to be with him. On his way to the charity he saw no one, and while there were plenty of cars at the building itself, the few people outside were far enough away, and not looking in his direction.
Glancing at the charity, he saw the double doors into the canteen were open, and made his way towards them, keeping his head turned from a couple of groups of chatting youths and almost giving a scream as someone passed out of the door as he reached it. He stopped, and the leaver gave him an odd look, but it was a kid of no more than eleven, and there was no sign of recognition.
Stepping into the canteen, James hurried for the back. Most of the seats were full, though no one was eating. Kids sat around, talking and waiting for the event to begin. James found a table and sat, a couple of free seats either side of him. Ahead a little stand had been set up, where success stories would speak. Telling the assembled kids their condition need not be permanent. That with hard work and the help of EKC they could make a change.
There was plenty of smiling staff up front, but James ignored them, instead seeking out the speakers. He found them, standing off to one side. Three in total, all dressed in smart but inexpensive clothes, looking nervous about what they were about to do. James didn’t blame them.
Two of the speakers were chatting. Comforting each other, discussing what they were going to say or maybe Love Island. James couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter. He let his eyes leave them and found the third member, standing alone.
Sema.
She looked tired and miserable. Her clothes were ruffled, not as smart as those of the other two, and she wasn’t participating in the conversation. Her eyes were fixed across the room, and she was spinning a red object James couldn’t quite make out in unsteady hands. She looked angry, too. How had she looked before attacking Mohsin? Frightened? Determined? James wasn’t sure. He found himself wondering how long Nikesh had been with the police. Might they appear mid-speech and take her away? Would that be for the best or, if he was honest, did he want to talk to her first?
&nb
sp; He thought about Luke and when she had last seen him. If she was miserable because he hadn’t been in touch when he had promised to take her away. That wouldn’t surprise him. Luke was a liar. James had fallen into the trap of trusting him once. Never again.
Still, her eyes didn’t shift from whatever they were watching, and he followed their invisible line as though it were string running from the bridge of her nose, over the assembled kids to -
A couple, potentially. They were sitting close, though not touching. They might have been nothing more than friends.
And yet…
Now he remembered things. Names and people and places and as they came back to him he looked from Sema to the couple and back again. His heart rate rose. He stood.
It clicked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The fastest way would have been to cut across the cafe into the hallway, but he couldn’t risk being spotted by someone of authority - someone who recognised him - and being chucked out.
Rising with his back to the enemy, he walked out the way he had come in, passing Sema with less than a foot between them. She didn’t see him, but that was okay, he didn’t need to talk to her now. There was an easier way.
The gatherings outside had dispersed and flowed into the canteen like debris breaking up and disappearing down a sink. With everyone seated for the presentation, he had a free run to reception, and could only hope it had been left unmanned.
His luck held. The desk was empty and the doors unlocked. He walked with purpose, in case anyone appeared, and resisted the urge to slip into the shadows when someone stepped out of a games room. Halfway up, he slid open another door and began to climb the stairs.
Up top, he stopped. He guessed the floor would be empty, but it would be difficult to handle awkward questions if he was wrong, so he waited, listening. Nothing.
Something floated along the breezeless corridor, landing in his ears as he stepped out. The rustling of papers. A little whistling. Both emanating from one source. The office he was aiming for? Hard to tell. A perfect time to turn back but he didn’t. He needed to know.
As he walked, the whistling grew louder, kept him guessing. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the hall he realised he was okay. The whistling came from the office of Ben, the friendly part-time police officer he had met the previous day. The last man standing up here by the sounds of it.
Feeling better safe than sorry was a good policy, James placed an ear to George’s office, spent several seconds listening.
Nothing.
Still, the nerves tingled across him like pins and needles, and he opened the door with the care of someone who thinks there might be a bucket of ice water above it, ready to tip, though he didn’t look up as he went in.
The office was empty or seemed to be. Though he knew it was silly, he glanced behind the door and ducked to see below the desk, as a father might check in the cupboard and beneath the bed for monsters.
See, nothing? Sleep sound, Jamesy.
His father’s words came at him like below zero winds, and he shivered.
Be calm, James, be calm.
His words this time. But he couldn’t be calm, even knowing he was alone. He was filled with the fear of anticipation, both for what he believed he was about to find, and for someone bursting in, finding him before he was ready.
Determined to waste no more time, he stepped to the bookshelf and collected the largest volume - the charity’s success stories, valid until mid-2017. He began to thumb through the pages.
There was Sema. Exactly where she had been before, and no surprise. She was perhaps a year, perhaps eighteen months younger than the real-life version, down in the canteen, but the difference looked greater. Five or ten years might have passed and all because of what had happened to her. What she had been through.
Feeling that anger balloon begin to inflate once more, James dropped into the chair behind the desk, placing the book on the solid surface to prevent dropping it.
This done, he turned to the beginning, flicking through the pages one at a time, taking in every face, every name, every description. Most of them smiled, delighted with the way their lives had turned around. All of them looked proud, as they had every right to. For most, looking into those contended eyes would have prompted a swell of happiness. For James, they made him want to cry.
Still flicking. Still taking in every face and looking for someone specifically. Someone he had seen before and -
There.
The smile was not as broad as Sema’s, but it was there, and the pride in the eyes was the same. He read the name (AMBER MAY) and looked to the job description (BADMINTON INSTRUCTOR)
Heart pounding so hard he could feel it all the way down his arms, he turned the page and continued. Kept going and going until -
Stop.
The biggest smile yet. Hair in a ponytail falling over one shoulder. A birthmark over her left eye. Name: PENNY PHILLIPS, Occupation: POST OFFICE CASHIER.
His breathing was unsteady. Ragged as though something was tearing as it tried to escape his throat. He turned the page on Penny and kept going, stopping again on CAROL LANCE, INTERNAL SALES and a final time on a girl with cropped red hair, a slanted smile and a big thumbs up. He saw her name and profession and almost choked.
He rose, holding the book. Looked up, saw the door hanging open and gave a little cry, dropping the volume on the desk with a thud.
“Having fun?”
George took a step into the room, that white-hot rage in his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching, readying themselves to finish the job they had started earlier. All that was missing was James’ neck to slide beneath those long fingers.
“You shouldn’t have come back.”
George was gearing up to strike, and James was so stunned he was going to let it happen. At least, he was until George took another step and James realised the charity head had not come alone.
“No.”
The word slipped out, and he wasn’t sure what he meant. He wasn’t looking at George now, instead staring at the pretty kid with her hands in her pockets. Becky wasn’t smiling. She looked confused, and a little frightened. Frightened of James.
He sat back down. George wasn’t expecting the move, and the surprise bought James a couple of seconds. Trying with everything he had to retain his composure, he spun the book as George had once spun it to him, showing that smiling face to those at the door.
“We need to talk.”
George stared. He was halfway across the room and could see the face and the name on the page. His eyes turned to James, and his mouth twitched as his mind warred over his decision. The angry bull approach, as per earlier, or something calmer. James looked at Becky again, and this seemed to make up the older man’s mind. He turned to the girl.
“Becks, hon, go back downstairs and wait for me. I need to talk to James about something.”
“But -“
“Please. Do this for me, okay? I’ll be down real soon.”
The innocent girl gave another frightened glance to James, who wanted to tell her he wasn’t the monster here. Wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay, but couldn’t. He kept himself quiet as she nodded to George, and left the room.
Closing the door, George paused, keeping his head turned from James, breathing deeply, fighting to stay calm.
“Strange time to work on your next success volume isn’t it?” James asked, still looking at the upside-down book. His voice was calmer than it had any right to be, but his anger was starting to make him sweat. He went to wipe his brow but George turned to face him, and he withdrew his hand, afraid it would look weak.
“I don’t know what you think you know -“
“Yes you do,” James returned and almost laughed. Remembering how he had said something similar to Christina, and how she had cut him off in virtually the same way. He jabbed a finger at the book.
“It’s about Alice Blue here, the local DJ. But not just her. It’s also about Amber and Pen
ny and Carol and, I think, the girl you just sent back downstairs.
“Oh, and of course, it’s about Sema.”
“You shouldn’t have come back,” George repeated. He was very pale, and his legs looked weak like he might collapse at any moment. James gestured to the plastic chair on the other side of the desk.
“You should sit. You don’t look so good.”
“Fuck you. Get out of my office.”
James looked up. George had hold of the door handle, and it was clear he needed to sit, but wasn’t going to. Not now James had suggested it. Neither man wanted to give ground.
“No, thank you. As for returning, I didn’t intend to. Christina made it as clear as you I was no longer welcome and I was leaving, would you believe it?
“Then, as I stopped for a rest, a car came along and out stepped Nikesh. Friendly man. Good man. Worried about his son. Made me realise you didn’t tell the police about Sema. Showed me you were a liar.”
“I’ve had enough of this. I’m calling the police.”
He stormed towards the desk and picked up the phone. Stared at James and James stared back without fear.
“Go ahead. I can do this with an audience. I don’t mind. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry and being this angry does fire the soul with a bit of confidence. I’ll talk to you about this, and I’ll talk to them too, but please make a decision. That dial tone is annoying.”
In truth, he sounded more confident than he felt. His heart continued to hammer, and the struggle was balancing the need to decide what to say and when with trying to keep the delivery cool, and straight. No fearful wobbles, otherwise this wouldn’t go his way.
George bought it. He placed the phone into its cradle and lowered himself into the plastic seat.
“Why don’t you tell me what you think you know? I promise not to laugh until the end.”
James let that pass.
“Nikesh drove me back into town, having learned you never told the cops about Sema, and wondering why.
“At first I assumed you were protecting your son, but it was nothing like that, was it? I was too generous. Far too generous. Truth was you were doing the opposite. Hanging him out to dry. You made me believe you caught him sleeping with Sema but that wasn’t it at all. You never caught him.