(2013) The Catch

by Tom Bale

  Hank O’Brien had placed his sumptuous converted farmhouse on their books three years ago, following an acrimonious divorce. Tenants were found and signed up to a long-term lease, but a death in the family meant they had to terminate after less than a year.

  While the house was still vacant, Robbie happened to get chatting to the friend of a friend of a location manager, scouring the south of England for a large rural property, needed for several weeks of filming. A quick guided tour later and Robbie had secured himself a nice little bonus: five grand straight into his pocket. The film people were done within a few weeks, and then the house was taken on a new short-term let; O’Brien himself moved back in just under a year ago, with nobody any the wiser about Robbie’s deal on the side.

  Except that the movie, a mid-budget Brit-flick comedy, proved to be an unexpected hit. Not to Hank O’Brien’s taste, particularly, but three weeks ago it happened to be the least worst option on his British Airways flight from Tokyo to Heathrow. Waking from a brandy-induced slumber, Hank had opened his eyes to find two vaguely familiar actors engaged in a passionate clinch on what was unmistakably his living-room carpet.

  For Robbie, the only saving grace was that he’d intercepted O’Brien’s complaint before it reached his mother’s ears. But even the briefest of conversations convinced Robbie that he lacked the diplomacy to massage Hank’s wounded ego. Robbie didn’t do grovelling apologies.

  In desperation he had enlisted his sister’s help. Cate had taken over negotiations and swiftly agreed to pay Hank three thousand pounds in cash, with an undertaking that neither party would breathe a word to the taxman.

  Robbie had correctly sussed that O’Brien would have an eye for the ladies: another reason for Cate to conduct the handover. But his sister would do it only on the condition that she had backup close at hand.

  Hank had never met Robbie face to face, so that was fine. Dan was roped in to make Robbie’s presence less conspicuous, and once he’d learned that Cate had been saddled with the most difficult role Dan had felt obliged to go along with it.

  A messy business, but at least O’Brien was here now. Soon it would be over and they could all go home.

  ****

  ‘Has she given it to him yet?’ Unwilling to turn and look, Robbie was relying on a running commentary from Dan, who had pulled a face when he saw the way O’Brien was leering at Cate.

  ‘They’re talking.’

  ‘What is there to talk about?’

  ‘I think he’s coming on to her.’

  ‘Christ, he must be desperate.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  Robbie made a crooning noise. ‘Ah, you’ve still got the hots—’

  ‘Sshh. Just leave it.’

  At the other table O’Brien abruptly leaned back, his expression hostile, while Cate drew herself upright and crossed her arms. There was only one explanation for such negative body language. She had rebuffed him.

  Dan felt glad, as well as relieved that Robbie had no way of influencing the conversation. To save his own skin he’d want Cate to flirt shamelessly with the man.

  ‘He’d better not try renegotiating,’ Robbie muttered.

  Cate was talking in a low, steady voice, O’Brien scowling as he listened. She produced the envelope from her bag and handed it over. Hank lifted the flap and peered inside. His eyes widened greedily.

  ‘She’s given it to him.’

  ‘Good. He can take it and piss off, and I’ll have a drink to commiserate.’

  ‘You’re still two grand up.’

  ‘Technically, yeah. But it was spent eighteen months ago. I had a nightmare getting that lot together.’

  ‘Oh well. Put it down to experience.’ Dan found it hard to be sympathetic. When Robbie was flush he could cheerfully blow in an evening what Dan took home in a month.

  From the other bar, a song ended on a wave of heartfelt applause. It only diverted Dan’s attention for a second, but by the time he looked back it was already too late to do anything.

  ****

  The timing was ironic – just as Cate dared to believe she could wrap this up without any great unpleasantness.

  O’Brien seemed happy enough as he examined the contents of the envelope. She’d been worried that he might insist on counting it out, note by note. If he did, they would have to go somewhere more private, and Cate couldn’t bear the idea of being alone with him.

  But Hank merely slipped the envelope inside his jacket and offered his hand. It was only as she went to shake it that she spotted the malevolent gleam in his eyes. He grabbed Cate’s wrist and hauled her towards him.

  ‘The price just increased.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want the other two thousand. And a kiss.’

  ‘Let go of me.’

  ‘You’re coming back to mine. We’ll talk about it there.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’ Twisting away from him, she tried to wrench her arm free but he was too strong. He swooped in on her, his pink lips puckered, the large pores on his nose glistening with sweat.

  Filled with revulsion, Cate acted on pure instinct: she punched him in the face. She had to use her left hand, so it lacked the power of her dominant arm; the noise he made when her fist connected with his cheek was more an exclamation of surprise than a cry of pain.

  But his retaliation was brutal. Releasing her arm, he shoved her backwards, putting all his weight behind the move. Cate hit the side of her chair and tumbled over it. As she fell she glimpsed the middle-aged couple bolting for the door. Beyond them, the barmaid’s hand was clamped over her mouth. In the other bar, the band had struck up a new song, a jauntily inappropriate soundtrack to the brawl.

  Hank growled a threat as he came round the table: he wasn’t done hurting her yet. Cate tried to curl into a protective ball but the overturned chair was jabbing into her side, impeding her movement. She was conscious of her brother on his feet, but he kept his back to her, reluctant to get involved.

  O’Brien was lining up to kick her when Dan wrestled him away, allowing Cate to wriggle clear of the chair. In the calm that followed Robbie turned, surveying them with a kind of bemused detachment, as though the whole display had been staged for his entertainment.

  ‘Glad to see you’re enjoying it!’ she shouted, and Robbie glared at her, no doubt because she’d broken cover.

  Sure enough, Hank was turning to inspect him. As he did, Dan gripped his arm. ‘You need to leave.’

  Another voice broke in. ‘That’s right, Mr O’Brien.’ It was the barmaid, gesturing towards the public bar. ‘Lance won’t stand for any trouble.’

  Dan said, ‘It’s sorted. He’s going.’ He regained O’Brien’s attention. ‘After you apologise to this woman.’

  Hank gave Dan the same suspicious appraisal. ‘What’s your part in this? Do you know her?’

  ‘Just leave it and fuck off,’ Robbie said. ‘You’re outnumbered.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ O’Brien took a step forward, his face blazing with fury, and Cate saw the moment it dawned on him.

  ****

  Dan saw it too: the man’s eyes narrowing, his brows dipping together.

  ‘You’re Robert Scott. You’re the scrote that cheated me.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘I recognise your voice. You made a major mistake, buddy, thinking you could swindle me. The film-makers paid you five thousand, not three.’ Puffing himself up, he jabbed a finger at Robbie. ‘I’ll see to it you lose your job over this.’

  ‘I dunno what you’re on about, mate. You’re pissed.’

  Affecting disdain, Robbie turned away. Hank lunged at him and once again Dan thrust himself into the gap. He caught a faceful of the man’s sour, booze-sodden breath and nearly gagged.

  ‘I want you out,’ the barmaid shouted. ‘Otherwise you’re gonna get barred.’

  At this, O’Brien faltered, giving Dan the chance he needed.

  ‘You’re mistaking him for someone else. My frie
nd’s name is Gary. The only reason we got involved is because I saw you hit this woman. We don’t know her, and we don’t know you, but unless you leave right now we’ll call the police.’

  ‘Just go,’ Cate added as she climbed to her feet. ‘Please.’

  Hank glowered at them for a few more seconds while he summoned up some dignity. ‘I will,’ he told Cate. ‘But you mark my words, lady. You haven’t heard the last of this.’

  CHAPTER 4

  Nobody spoke as they watched Hank O’Brien depart. A deeply unpleasant man, for sure, and now a deeply unhappy one. Dan had no doubt that O’Brien would make good on his threat.

  ‘Thank you for helping,’ Cate said, pointedly ignoring Robbie.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Dan asked, seeing that she was fighting back tears.

  ‘Actually, no. I’m in a stinking temper, which is why I’m going to get out of here before I say something I might regret.’

  She picked up her bag. Dan said, ‘Shall I walk you to your car, in case he’s still out there?’

  ‘If he is, I’m going to bloody kill him.’ From the look on her face Dan wouldn’t have bet against it. She gave her brother a similarly ferocious glare, then marched out.

  Robbie waited till she’d gone before he met Dan’s eye. ‘Gary? Do I look like a Gary?’

  ‘It was the first name that came into my head.’

  ‘Mm. Quick thinking, I’ll give you that.’

  Dan grunted. ‘We may as well get off now.’

  ‘Just a second.’

  Leaving Dan to pick up the overturned chair, Robbie sauntered over to the bar, choosing a spot about six or seven feet from where the barmaid was standing. Dan knew it was one of Robbie’s golden rules: Always make them come to you.

  And the girl took the bait. She was around twenty, with jet-black hair, pale doughy skin and piercings in her nose, lips and eyebrows. Far too stocky and unkempt for Robbie’s taste, Dan would have said, but it was clear what he intended to do. He was already leaning on the bar, his head tilted at an angle that oozed sincerity.

  In little more than a whisper, he said something that elicited a yelp of laughter. Within seconds she was gazing deep into Robbie’s eyes, the stud in her lower lip bobbing gently as she recited something to him: probably her phone number.

  Robbie nodded, then deftly planted a kiss on her cheek: too quick for the girl to react, but afterwards she looked thrilled.

  Turning away, Robbie caught Dan’s eye and winked. ‘Okay. We’re done here.’

  ****

  The car park was just as crammed as before, save for a space where Cate’s Audi TT had been parked. Dan relaxed at the knowledge that she had left without further incident.

  They crunched over the gravel, avoiding puddles from a recent shower. The night air was damp and fresh and fragrant, and Dan felt his spirits lift at the thought that they were heading home.

  He climbed into the Fiesta, nearly bumping his head as Robbie simultaneously dropped into the passenger seat, causing the car to rock on its suspension like an ancient pram.

  ‘How about we grab a nightcap in Brighton?’ Robbie said.

  ‘It’s too late.’

  ‘Should take around twenty minutes if you floor it. We’ll cruise West Street, see who’s available.’

  ‘If you’re on the pull, what about that barmaid?’

  ‘Leave it out. I wouldn’t do her with yours. I was just making sure she was cool with what happened.’

  ‘And you got her phone number?’

  ‘In one ear, out the other.’ Robbie tutted. ‘Ah, come on. Dump the car at my place and we’ll go somewhere in Hove. Get a few shots inside us.’

  ‘Yeah. You’re two minutes from home, but I’ll have to get a cab.’

  A snort from Robbie, as though he’d hoped Dan wouldn’t spot the flaw in his plan. He waited a second or two, then said, ‘You were telling me about these cafes. The bank gave you the cold shoulder, yeah?’

  ‘Pretty much. I was thinking ...’ Dan checked the road was clear, pulled out of the car park and accelerated. ‘Either we have to raise the money from somewhere else, or maybe find someone who can lease the premises at a really good rate—’

  Robbie’s laughter was loud and coarse. ‘No chance. And believe me, you wouldn’t wanna do it. My mum’s a slave driver.’

  ‘So you keep saying. But I’ve always got on well with her.’

  ‘Yeah, in a civilian relationship. Going into business with her is a different ball game.’

  ‘But isn’t it worth having the conversation, at least?’

  ‘Not when she’s watching every frigging penny like a hawk.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘How am I gonna stop her from hearing about Hank the Wank?’

  ‘You’re not. You’re better off coming clean.’

  ‘Bollocks, am I. Any excuse to cut my wages and she’ll do it.’

  Now it was Dan’s turn to sigh. With the banks so risk-averse, he’d hit on the idea that Robbie’s mother could be his potential saviour.

  ‘Surely her core business is sound enough? I mean, with the property portfolio?’

  ‘Oh, she’s sitting on a fortune. But nobody’s gonna prise her hands off that till she’s dead and cold. I bet the old witch’ll live to a hundred just to spite me ...’

  His voice dwindled to silence. Dan’s parents had been killed in an accident when he was fourteen.

  Robbie shifted in his seat. ‘Sorry, mate. You know what I mean, though?’

  ‘Mm. Seems we’re both out of luck.’

  ‘Yep. Life’s a bitch and then you die.’ But this was followed by another change of mood; a jubilant cry: ‘Hey hey, well, look who it is!’

  CHAPTER 5

  It all happened so quickly.

  Dan knew it was a dreadful cliché, even as the thought passed through his mind.

  The road was narrow and dark, hemmed in by overhanging trees on the left and a dense hedgerow on the right. There was no other traffic. No street lighting, no moon or stars.

  At first Robbie’s shout made no sense. Perhaps his night vision was superior to Dan’s, or perhaps he’d caught an earlier glimpse of the pedestrian as the car’s headlights swept round a bend in the road.

  It was Hank O’Brien. He was on the left-hand side, walking on the uneven grass verge along the edge of the tree line. Stomping home, no doubt plotting his revenge.

  He should have been on the other side, Dan thought, dredging up a memory of the Highway Code. At night you’re supposed to walk towards the traffic.

  Dan automatically lifted his foot from the accelerator. By now the lights had picked up O’Brien’s unsteady gait. There was room for him to shift another foot or so away from the road, but with typical arrogance he made no concession to their approach. Maybe he was too preoccupied – or too drunk – to react.

  Fortunately there was no oncoming traffic, so it was perfectly safe for Dan to encroach on the opposite lane. That was exactly what he set out to do.

  He was conscious of glancing at the mirror, noting the darkness of the landscape behind him; he felt the subtle shift of the muscles in his arms as he eased the steering wheel to the right—

  Then Robbie said, ‘Let’s scare the shit out of him,’ and he leaned over and yanked on the wheel.

  The Fiesta, in the process of drifting right, made an abrupt lurch to the left. Dan felt the loss of traction as the front tyre slithered on to wet grass and mud. Then an impact, grotesquely loud and somehow unexpected, a voice in his head shrieking: How the hell did that happen?

  There was a startled cry from Robbie as a fist-sized spider web of cracks materialised in the top left-hand corner of the windscreen. A heavy form thumped against the passenger-side window and was gone.

  Dan was already correcting the steering, the Fiesta slipping obediently back on to the road, Robbie also straightening up, his arms flopping demurely into his lap as if nothing had happened – and even if it had it was nothing to do with him. Dan hit the brakes, remembering too late that he ou
ght to check his speed. It would be important to know exactly how fast he’d been going.

  For the investigation.

  For the trial.

  By the time he looked, the needle was juddering towards zero. No use to anyone, but it couldn’t have been more than forty to begin with, and the limit for the road was, what, sixty? Fifty, at the very least.

  Well within, he thought, and the phrase became a nonsensical litany repeating in his head. He might not be very confident, but that didn’t make him a bad driver. He was safe, sensible, cautious. He was well within.

  Then it registered that the car was stationary, and Robbie was staring at him with a look of horror and disbelief that must have mirrored his own expression.

  ‘I just wanted to scare him,’ Robbie said. ‘He’ll be all right, won’t he?’

  ‘We knocked him down.’

  ‘He’ll be okay. Let’s just go.’

  It took Dan a few seconds to digest the idea, so terrible and so attractive, before he managed to respond.

  ‘No.’

  ****

  He heard himself say it, and was perplexed that a sound could emerge so calmly from a body where every cell felt weak and flaccid, sloshing around like water in a bag.

  Robbie twisted in his seat, looking over his shoulder. ‘It’s still clear. Come on.’

  Ignoring him, Dan checked the mirror, then kangaroo-hopped the car forward like some hapless novice driver, parking with the nearside wheels up on the verge. He activated the hazard lights, turned off the ignition and took the keys with him as he got out of the Fiesta. Deep in his mind the possibility must have lurked that Robbie might commandeer the car and abandon him to his fate.

  And it was a fate Dan saw clearly, as he stepped into the vanilla-scented air of a spring evening. It dropped into his vision like an elaborate stage set, gliding down on silent ropes and pulleys.