by Helen Forbes
At the thought of his friend, he remembered he hadn’t checked his email. His phone was beside the bed, but he couldn’t face it. And he wasn’t going downstairs. As he turned over and moulded his body against Sharon’s, he felt a sense of relief and release. Maybe it was time to let go, to move on.
*
Looked like all was not rosy in paradise. Chris had his head in a book all evening, and she was reading a gossip magazine. They’d seemed close enough, but Chris was looking really down. Good.
Speaking of down, if Chris didn’t come down those fucking stairs soon, bad leg or not, and reply to his email, there was going to be trouble. This was not the deal. He wasn’t having it. Chris had been slipping for a while now. No respect, no gratitude. No fucking way.
Todd thumped the table, toppling his mug of lukewarm coffee. It missed the laptop, spilling across his thighs. As the coffee soaked into his jeans, it took all the self-control he had not to hurl the laptop at the window. No fucking email. Someone was going to pay for this. That skank, Sharon MacRae. And his so-called mate.
A few taps on the keyboard and he saw that Ryan was still missing. And he and Kat were the top headline on the Scottish news. No picture of him. No name. Good picture of Kat. And look. Wee Danielle in her school uniform. Bless.
He looked at the time again. Bastard. He’d go for a shower and hope, for everyone’s sake, there was an email waiting for him when he came out.
*
Katya heard the sound of the shower in Todd’s en-suite. She waited a bit, then she crept out of her room. She checked the living room first. No sign of her phone or her passport. She pushed open his bedroom door. He always took ages in the shower, so she must have a bit of time. She’d hoped to see his clothes lying on the floor or the bed, with her things in his pocket, but there was nothing. He must have taken them off in the shower room. She checked the drawers and under his pillow. Nothing.
Maybe she’d have time to log in to her email. She could contact someone, ask them to come and get her. But who? She only knew Todd, Danielle and her clients. There were plenty clients that would like to hear from her, but none that she wanted to contact. And what could she do without her passport?
The shower was still running. She kept the living room door open, so she’d hear when it stopped. She switched on the laptop, her heart racing. It only took seconds to open at the last page he’d been looking at.
She took a step back. What? Why was her picture on here? And Danni? Her English wasn’t great, but she knew it was a news website. And she knew what murder meant.
Katya pulled her jacket on as she ran down the road. She could hear the coins jingling in the pocket of her jeans. She’d found them in a dish in Todd’s room. She didn’t know where she was and she didn’t know where she was going. Anywhere away from him. She prayed as she ran. Please please please don’t let him look into the bedroom. And if he does, make him think the two pillows she’d shoved under the quilt were her. And may God and the priest and her mama forgive her for turning her back on them.
Old Edinburgh Road. She knew what this Edinburgh was, but why was it here? There was a young couple walking on the other side of the road. She could stop them, but what would she say? If she asked for the police, she would go to prison.
She reached a junction. Balloan Road. A phone box; the first she’d seen. Even as she ran towards it, she had no idea who she would phone. Inside, she breathed in the stench of urine and scrabbled for the coins in her pocket. A number came to her. She hadn’t consciously remembered it. Indeed, she had probably hoped she’d never have to use it again. Now, it seemed like her only hope.
***
Chapter 24
The breathing exercises didn’t work. Christopher felt hot and uncomfortable, and his head wouldn’t stop. Sharon had been sleeping for a while. How he envied her. He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Not that he could see much. One of the things that had attracted him to Ness Castle was the privacy and the lack of street lights. The trees surrounding his house ensured he couldn’t see any of his neighbours. Although it wasn’t far to the nearest housing estate, it felt like the countryside.
He thought of Todd. Was he sitting waiting for an email? He’d not be pleased, but he was sick of thinking of Todd’s feelings. There was no point lying here awake; he might as well get up and have some tea. As he reached for his dressing gown, he saw his phone flashing. At least he’d remembered to put it on silent. Was it Todd? It wasn’t. Though the number wasn’t stored on his phone, he knew it. They hadn’t spoken in a long time. The deal was there would be no more contact. He was free. He’d really wanted to keep it that way.
*
There had been no surprises in the interim report of Danielle Smith’s post mortem. Her body temperature confirmed what they already knew; she’d died not long before her body was found. The cause of death was manual strangulation, the skin of her neck showing typical contusions and abrasions left by her assailant’s fingers and nails. Beneath the skin, there was massive bleeding in the muscles, and damage to the tiny bones in the front of the throat. Her assailant had faced her as he killed her, using much more force than was needed. There was recent genital bruising consistent with rape, although her occupation made it difficult to be conclusive. No semen. There were traces of skin under her nails, and a badly sprained right ankle. Her clothes and other samples had been sent for analysis.
‘Sarge,’ Roberts said. ‘The sprained ankle is interesting. Remember SOCO found a hair clasp and signs of a possible struggle further round in the lane?’
Joe nodded. ‘She ran from him or them, and fell.’
It had rained the night before Danielle died, leaving the ground soft and ideal for capturing shoe marks and other signs. There were two areas identified by SOCO that suggested a struggle may have taken place. One of them was further along the lane, with marks that looked to match Danielle’s sandals, and larger footmarks. The same larger marks and another set of smaller ones were found in the flat area above the slope where Danielle’s body was found.
As Joe drove home, he wondered. Two struggles. Two men and Danielle. Todd and Ryan MacRae? Had Ryan helped Todd to throw the body down the slope after they were done with her?
*
When Sharon woke, Christopher was gone. Must be his leg. She put the light on. It was four o’clock. Not long until they had to be up. As she stretched to get her phone, she noticed the bottom drawer on the bed-side table on her side was slightly open and there was something sticking out. Looked like a photo.
She pulled it out and her stomach lurched. Who was she, this gorgeous bird in expensive underwear? Was she the one from nine years and eleven months ago? It didn’t look like an old photo. There were more. They weren’t porn shots; everything was covered up, just. Maybe porn would have troubled Sharon less.
She heard the front door open and close. She put the pictures back, the corner of the first one sticking out of the drawer, then she switched the light off. She heard him flush the toilet downstairs before he came up. He didn’t come into the room. Sharon got out of bed and crept to the door. She could hear him talking, but she couldn’t make out the words. When the talking stopped, she went back to bed.
Christopher joined her, and his skin felt cold. She didn’t turn. ‘Where have you been?’
He was silent for ages. ‘I…I went for a drive.’
‘You what?’
‘A drive.’ His voice sounded strange. ‘Sometimes I have to do that, if I can’t sleep.’
‘Was it your leg?’
‘Yeah.’
She knew he was lying. He wouldn’t choose to drive if his leg was sore. She didn’t ask who he’d been speaking to, though she would have loved to know. ‘Can I get you anything?’
He put his hand on her arm. ‘No. Thank you. I took some tablets. Should help me get a bit of sleep now.’
Lucky him.
***
Chapter 25
Ryan drifted in and out of troubl
ed sleep until the alarm on his phone went off. Sean was snoring next door. Ryan was supposed to wake his friend and get the plan in motion. He listened for a while, then he decided. What was the point in involving Sean? Might end up getting him into trouble too. He’d do this by himself. Almost.
He looked in the mirror and laughed. His mother wouldn’t recognise him with this hair and these clothes: skinny jeans, a flowery shirt, and a rainbow-striped back pack. There were bruises on his throat; they’d attract attention. He rummaged in Sean’s bottom drawer and found a scarf. A great, long maroon thing; it didn’t exactly go with the image, but he had no choice. He wrote a note for Sean. ‘Gay Boy, I’ve taken your homo gear. I’m doing you a favour, leaving you some decent clobber. If you come to your senses, maybe you’ll get a look in with Natasha. Cheers. You’re a good mate. Will be in touch.’
There were cops at the bus station, but they didn’t give him a second glance. He bought a ticket for the Glasgow bus, then he sat at the stance and waited. He was feeling okay. This might just work. He felt the phone vibrate in his pocket. Probably his mother.
It was Todd on Snapchat. A photo of a white sport sock with a splattering of red spots, lying in a pile of leaves. And a caption: ‘Cheers Sharon’.
Ryan watched the image until it disappeared, then he called his mother. Her phone was switched off.
*
There was a lot of faffing about with this flying malarkey. Turbulence. Expensive plastic food. No toilet while the seat-belt signs were on. A bumpy landing, then crammed into a bus at Gatwick. Even when you got off the bus, there was miles to walk. Christopher took Sharon’s hand. ‘Come on; this way for the shuttle.’
‘Shuttle?’
‘To the South Terminal; that’s where we get the train.’
‘This isn’t easy, is it?’
He laughed. ‘You get used to it.’
She never would. And see those lines on the ground in the South Terminal to show where you should walk? She couldn’t make any sense of them. And the lane system for buying rail tickets was completely overwhelming.
‘Just as well you’ve got me, then,’ he said.
Was that right? Sharon couldn’t get the photos, or his trip in the middle of the night, out of her head. But she couldn’t find a way to ask him about them that didn’t sound like she was snooping. She shouldn’t have come, no matter what Ryan had said in his text. It was too far away.
On the station platform, while Christopher watched the board for the next train to East Croydon, Sharon searched his face. There was no sign of fear, and there had been none in the shuttle. Had he been having her on? If she’d experienced what he said he had, she’d never go near another train.
He saw her looking. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’
‘You don’t.’
‘I do. And you’re right to wonder. It was all down to a friend.’ He hesitated. ‘There’s more to tell you another time, Sharon. Much more. Let’s just say it wasn’t easy. There was a lot of crying, swearing, biting, kicking, threats of arrest…’
‘You or him?’
‘Both. Here we go.’
*
Pinching herself had once been Sharon’s speciality. She had the marks to prove it. You could do a lot of damage by pinching, as a self-harm method of last resort when there was nothing sharper around. While Christopher paid the taxi driver, she stood before his family’s Gothic villa, her nails digging into her arm as she counted the floors. There were four, and bay windows that gleamed in the morning sun, a couple of spires, and a small turret. The garden was huge, a lawn stretching out the back as far as she could see. She felt Christopher’s hand on her arm, stopping her nails before they broke the skin. ‘You okay?’
She shook her head. ‘I could have stayed in a hotel.’
He smiled. ‘Hardly.’
The door opened into a massive entrance hallway with dark wood panelling and a tiled floor. Through an archway, she could see a huge staircase, masses of paintings and a sparkling chandelier. It was like Downton Abbey.
A blur of shouting children descended on them. ‘Uncle Chris, Uncle Chris!’ Three boys and a girl.
‘Children, give Uncle Chris a break, will you?’ Isobel had long dark hair, and eyes just like his. She hugged Christopher, then she put her arm round Sharon’s shoulders. ‘You’ve no idea how pleased I am to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s such a surprise.’
Aye, for you and me both, doll.
Sharon felt a hand in hers. It was too small to be Christopher’s. It was the youngest, a wee girl with Frozen pyjamas and a lisp. ‘Would you like to see our spaceship?’
Her mother shook her head. ‘Ruby, not now. Uncle Chris and I are going to visit Grandma in hospital. You’re going to Nanny’s with the boys. Go and get dressed.’
‘I don’t want to go to Nanny’s. She just talks to the boys about football all the time and I get bored.’
‘That’s too bad.’
‘Sharon can look after me.’
That would do Sharon nicely. They hadn’t discussed whether she’d go to the hospital with Christopher. She’d hoped not. It was one thing bringing your girlfriend home for the first time, and quite another introducing her to your mother in intensive care. One look at Sharon and the mother might peg it.
As Ruby led Sharon up the never-ending stairs, she got a glimpse into several rooms with deep pile carpets, satin bed-linen and antique furniture. This was mental. Why would someone like Christopher, born with half a dozen silver spoons in his mouth, want anything to do with her? And why was Ruby insisting on taking her to the attic?
Ruby ran ahead of Sharon up the last few steps, and threw the door open. Though she was trying hard to watch her mouth, Sharon was unable to stop herself. ‘Bloody hell’. Ruby giggled.
The attic was a spaceship. Two old car seats were fixed in front of rows of monitors and a huge control panel. There were wheels and dials and lights, buttons and cables and speakers. Ruby pressed a button, and music from Star Wars came bursting out of the speakers, accompanied by flashing lights. ‘Look up,’ Ruby said.
Stars and planets drifted across the roof in a mass of colours and lights.
‘That’s the solar system. I can teach you the planets, but first I’ll go and get dressed, then you can read me a story in my room.’
Ruby’s room was huge, with shelves of books, an intricate doll’s house, and a rocking horse. The décor was white and pale lilac. She’d wanted pink, she told Sharon, but her Grandma said pink was common. ‘What’s common, Sharon?’
You’re looking at it, kiddo. ‘It just means lots of people have it. This is much nicer than pink.’
‘I like you,’ Ruby said, when Sharon finished reading Emily Brown and The Elephant Emergency.
Sharon smiled. ‘I like you too.’
‘Are you a mummy?’
Sharon nodded. ‘I’ve got two sons, Ryan and Liam. They would love to see the spaceship.’
‘Then you’ll just have to bring them for a holiday. Are the boys with their daddy?’
‘Eh, no; they’re…they’re with their aunt. Their daddy died.’
‘That’s sad. Our dog died once. My daddy’s away somewhere. Probably work.’
Christopher had told Sharon that Isobel’s husband had run off with their au pair, three years ago. Clearly, no one had told Ruby.
‘Sharon, do you fuss like the elephant’s mummy in the story? My mummy does.’
Fuss? She hadn’t even switched her phone on since they arrived at Gatwick over an hour ago. She was a shit mum.
‘Ruby, I’m just going to run down and get my phone. I need to call the boys and check they’re all right.’
Four missed calls from Ryan. She called him back and the phone rang once before he answered it, and started shouting.
‘Calm down, Ryan. I can’t understand you. What is it?’
‘You tell me. That bastard, Todd; he’s sent me a picture of a sock on Snapchat with ‘Thanks Sharon’ written on
it. What’s he on about?’
Sharon’s heart started to race. ‘A sock?’
‘A white sports sock with something red on it – spots of blood, maybe. What’s going on, Mam?’
Sharon felt as if her legs were going to give way. She sat on the stairs. ‘The day of the shooting, you dropped a sock in the kitchen. I…I got rid of it.’
Ryan’s roar nearly deafened her. ‘And Todd’s got it? How the fuck did that happen?’
‘I don’t know. I…I gave it to Christopher before the cops arrived.’
‘Christopher? He’s in this with Todd. They’re both involved in the shooting. It’s all to do with Dad; I know it. They’re getting their own back for something he did.’
‘Christopher’s involved in the shooting? He knew your father?’
‘I don’t know. Todd did. I’m fucked, Mum. Totally fucked.’
*
The bus came in. And it left. Ryan watched it go, then he picked up Sean’s back pack and left the bus station. On Academy Street, he heard another text.
Ryan, darling, where r u? I’m coming home. We’ll get this sorted.
He walked towards the car at the top of the taxi rank. Just before he reached it, he replied to his mother.
Sorting it. Sorry. Luv u xx
He switched the phone off and took out the sim. As he opened the back door of the taxi, he dropped the phone and sim through the metal grate in the road.