‘All I want to know is why,’ Gardner said, following her in, taking in the mess. The room looked like a bomb had hit it. ‘Why is that too much to ask for?’
Annie picked up her make-up bag, clinging to it like it was a life raft. ‘Why do you think?’
Gardner shrugged. He honestly didn’t know. Things weren’t perfect. They were hardly romantic novel material, but they were all right. They were married. They shared a bed. They had sex when it hadn’t been a long week. They ate in front of the telly most nights when he was home. They talked about crap they’d seen on the news. Occasionally they went out. They were married. They were like his parents, her parents. Like everyone who’s married.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘How about the fact you’re never here. Or that everything is about your job or this stupid fucking exam. Or that you come home and barely speak to me because you’re too busy thinking about some poor bastard’s family who’ve just buried their son.’
Gardner laughed. ‘Is that why you’re fucking another copper, then?’
‘He’s different.’
‘Is he? I’ll give you six months and you’ll change your tune.’
Annie looked away from him, lips pursed.
‘It’s been going on for more than six months?’ Gardner asked. He could feel the familiar burning in the back of his throat, behind his eyes. ‘How long?’ Annie’s eyes filled up. ‘How long?’ he said again, slowly.
‘Almost a year,’ she said.
Gardner looked at his wife. His chest was tight. She’d been lying to him for a year. Stuart Wallace had been laughing at him for a year. Who else knew? He sat down on the bed amongst the detritus of their marriage.
‘I’m sorry,’ Annie said and sat beside him. She put her hand on his. He wanted her to move it but it was probably the last time he’d touch her.
They sat there for a long time. The light changed outside. Next door’s cat was on their fence. He hated that cat. He’d always wanted a dog but Annie didn’t like them and she’d only end up looking after it while he worked day and night.
The cat jumped down and slunk away until he couldn’t see it any more in the rapidly dimming light. Annie stood up and carefully folded her work clothes into a holdall.
‘Stay,’ he said.
Annie stopped. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Please,’ Gardner said and took the holdall from her. ‘Please. We can talk it through. We can get through this. Please.’
Annie shook her head again. ‘I’ve already made my decision. I decided weeks ago.’
‘That’s why you told me?’
Annie nodded.
‘Where are you going to go?’
‘Where do you think?’ Annie said.
‘What, Wallace’s wife and daughter are going to put you up in their fancy fucking house?’
Annie’s fist clenched. ‘We’ve got a flat. He’s already there,’ she said.
Gardner tried to keep the quiver from his voice but failed. ‘I don’t understand why you’re choosing him over me.’
Annie picked up her holdall and took one last look around the debris of the wardrobe.
‘Because I love him,’ she said. ‘I’ll come back for the rest later.’
Gardner watched as she hauled her bags out of the room. He wanted to call out to her, to stop her. But what was the point? She didn’t love him. She didn’t love him.
The front door slammed shut and Gardner slid off the bed onto the floor. He let the tears come for the first time, let them come until he was sitting in the dark, exhausted.
He thought about Ray Thorley. He wondered how the man had felt when his wife had gone, taken by cancer rather than by some fat, fucking bastard copper. He knew deep down that death was worse but the way he felt now it was pretty stiff competition.
Gardner shifted and realised his foot had gone to sleep. He hauled himself back on to the bed, not bothering to move the remains of Annie’s stuff. He felt overwhelmingly tired. As he started to drift off he thought that even though he’d let Annie go, Wallace wouldn’t get it so easy. Stuart Wallace would pay for what he’d done.
Chapter 12
13 December 2010
Adam Quinn walked in with the post and flicked through it. ‘Boring, boring,’ he said and then held one letter up. ‘You have your first Christmas card.’ Louise came in, towelling her hair. There were dark brown splodges around her hairline where she’d been dyeing it. She turned down Lady Gaga, who was blaring out at him. He hated Lady Gaga. Couldn’t see what Louise liked about her or how she tallied with the folky-Americana music she usually listened to. But that was Louise. A surprise around every corner. He handed her the envelope, expecting her to tear into it like she normally did. Instead she turned it over in her hand before leaving it on the mantelpiece, unopened.
‘What’s up?’ Adam asked, pulling her towards him, arms around her waist.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I just don’t feel too good.’
‘Need me to give you a check-up?’ he asked and kissed her neck. Louise pulled away from him. ‘What?’ he said.
‘Nothing. I told you – I don’t feel well.’
Adam looked at her with more concern. He reached his hand to her face, brushing his fingers across her cheek. ‘Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit? I’ll make us something to eat.’
‘I’m not really hungry,’ Louise said and Adam dropped his hand from her face, wondering if he’d done something to upset her. She’d been quiet the night before, went to bed before him, something she rarely did. Unless he’d managed to piss her off somehow.
‘All right. Let me know if you change your mind.’ He slumped onto the settee and turned on the TV. The news was on – something about a body being found. He’d heard about it the day before so went to switch over to something less depressing. Before he could pick up the remote, Louise turned the TV off, and stood in front of him, about to say something. Here it is, he thought. The reason I’m in the doghouse.
‘I might put the Christmas tree up tomorrow,’ Louise said, glancing at the space beside the window.
Adam tried to get his brain around the shift in mood. But if it meant she wasn’t pissed off at him, he didn’t really care. Instead he played into their yearly ritual. ‘Tomorrow?’ Adam said. ‘It’s too early.’
‘No it’s not. It’s December.’
‘Yes. December the thirteenth. It’s wrong.’
‘You’re such a Grinch,’ Louise said. ‘Loads of people have got them up by now.’
‘So?’
‘So? You get your money’s worth if you put it up early.’
Adam laughed at her logic. The same argument every year. The same one he lost every year.
‘Please?’ she said, making puppy-dog eyes; Adam rolled his and gave in.
‘Fine. I’ll get it out of the loft in the morning.’
‘Thank you,’ Louise said.
‘But you’re doing the lights. I hate doing the lights.’
‘Deal,’ she said and bent down to kiss him. He took her face in his hands and held her there. Her eyes glistened and he knew there was something else. She gave him an almost smile and he let her go.
Chapter 13
14 December 2010
‘Emma.’
He couldn’t help it. Every time he slammed into her the name came out. Like a mantra. Emma. Emma. Emma.
His hands were tangled in her hair. Caught like a trap. He could feel the sweat dripping from his body onto hers. But he couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t bear to see her face.
He needed this. Needed to let all the anger out. The hatred.
Bitch. Slut. Junkie. Whore.
Emma.
He pulled his hands free and moved them to her neck. He could feel her pulse against his hand.
‘Emma. Emma. Emma.’
Her eyelids fluttered.
And it stopped.
Lucas woke up. His breath caught in his throat. He’d come back to the shithole
after visiting the police station the day before, and had fallen asleep. He must’ve been asleep for a good twelve hours, longer maybe. He sat up, head in hands. His elbows dug into his thighs as he tried to erase her from his thoughts.
His head was pounding. He got up and turned the cold tap on. The water sputtered out and he gulped it down. His heart rate slowed and he looked around for his cigarettes. He pushed one from the pack and stood at the window.
You’d have thought that in a dump like this they wouldn’t care about the smell of smoke but Mrs Heaney, the shrivelled-up landlady, was always giving him grief about it. If you have to smoke, do it outside. Lucas had nodded like a good little boy. There was something about the old battleaxe that reminded him of his nana. She was tough as old boot leather with a face to match and had been the one to look after him most of the time when he was a kid. It wasn’t long after she’d died that he’d started getting into trouble. Maybe he could write one of those misery memoirs about it and make a killing. Anyway, he’d agreed not to smoke in his room but it was too cold to go downstairs and outside so he just stuck his head out the window instead. It’s not like they’d notice the cold air coming in. The old crone was too stingy to put the heating on in any case. Lucas relied on a little portable heater he’d nicked from the alcoholic upstairs.
He flicked his cigarette out of the window and laughed as it floated down onto a girl walking past, no doubt doing the walk of shame. Why else would she be up at this time of the morning? He closed the window and put his hands over the heater.
He’d been thinking about Ben ever since Emma’s dad mentioned him. Wondering what he knew, how hard it’d be to keep him quiet. But after talking to the dykey copper, he wondered if Ben was the least of his worries. He had to admit, seeing the photo had rattled him. Brought it all back. But he couldn’t get his head around it. Couldn’t work it out at all. He was in trouble and he knew it, but as long as he stayed one step ahead of the coppers maybe things would work out fine. Maybe finding Ben was the only way to go after all. Find out what he knew. He was always lurking around Emma, poking his nose in. He’d even tried to get his claws into Jenny – that’s how desperate he was. Always hanging around. So it was likely he knew something about how the body ended up in the ground. And Lucas needed to know what it was.
Chapter 14
10 February 1999
Lucas glanced around at all the crap – the teddy bears, the knick-knacks, the half-used make-up from Boots. The cans of Impulse scattered about the place, uniting to create a smell that stuck in his throat. She wasn’t bringing all that shit.
He tossed the red velvet box towards her and leaned back on her bed. He could see she was tense, expecting her old man to burst in at any moment. It was the first time he’d been in her room. The first time he’d been in her house. It’d probably be the last time. They weren’t coming back after this. Get what she needed and they were gone.
She was scared about what her dad would say if he caught her packing her bags. Lucas wasn’t stupid. No matter how much Emma tried to act like the bad girl he could see her for what she really was. Daddy’s girl. Her mum had died not long back. That’s what all this was about.
Emma picked up the box. She looked over at him but didn’t seem that grateful. The girl barely cracked a smile, rarely spoke either. Suited him. The less they said the better, as far as he was concerned. But sometimes he did wonder what was going on in her head. There was something different about this one. The other slappers he usually hung around with were all the same. Desperate for attention, couldn’t keep their gobs shut or their knickers on. Emma was different.
She opened the box and took out the necklace.
‘Real silver, that,’ he said, nodding at the chain in her hand. She turned it over. ‘Silver plated, anyway.’
‘Thanks,’ Emma said and put it back in the box.
‘Put it on.’
Emma rubbed the heart-shaped pendant between her fingers and Lucas moved behind her. He started to take off the gold piece of tat from around her neck but she pulled away.
‘What?’ he said.
‘Nothing,’ Emma said, her fingers clutching her neck. ‘It’s just this was my mam’s.’
‘So? This one’s off me. Put it on.’
She stared at the worn pink carpet and said nothing. He could see her hands were balled up. She was in one of her moods. She didn’t want it. Ungrateful cow.
‘Put it on,’ he said again, walking up to her, holding the necklace in his open palm. Emma reached out to take it. ‘Take that one off first.’
‘I can wear both,’ she said.
‘I don’t want you to. Take that one off.’
She was silent again, staring at the floor. Lucas took hold of her chin, forced her to look at him. He waited for her to do as she was told. Kept waiting.
‘Well fuck off then,’ he said, throwing the chain against the window. Emma flinched and Lucas pushed her away.
‘I’m sorry.’ She tried to take his hand. ‘Don’t be in a mood with me. I love the necklace but this is my mam’s.’
Lucas ignored her and opened the bedroom door. ‘Just get a shift on.’
Emma started to collect things together from drawers and shelves. Lucas watched her and wondered if he’d been wrong. If she was just like the rest of them. She was doing his head in. How long did it take?
‘Just leave it,’ he said eventually and took the bag from her hand. ‘You don’t need any of this shit.’
‘But—’
‘Let’s just go, for fuck’s sake.’ He pulled her out of the room by her elbow. She could say goodbye to all the teddy bears and knick-knacks. That life was over.
Chapter 15
14 December 2010
Lucas finished his cigarette and stomped it out, glancing behind him, expecting to see Detective Freeman hanging around. When she’d approached him outside the bedsit his first thought hadn’t been ‘cop’. She looked more like one of the Goth kids he used to torture at school. Long black hair with a streak of blonde at the front, and head-to-toe black clothes with a pair of dykey boots too. But as soon as she opened her gob he could hear it. Had that way of talking down to him like all coppers do.
Lucas watched people dribble in and out of the clinic. He didn’t recognise any of the faces. He supposed the junkies he’d known were either dead or had no intention of quitting after all this time. He’d known a few people in the past who’d come here, who reckoned they were going to quit and make something of their lives. He knew better. None of them ever did it. Most were back on the smack or whatever was their pleasure within weeks, if not days, and the ones who did give up had either topped themselves or were living an existence as crappy as when they had been addicts – but minus the bubble of comfort the drugs gave them. It was pointless. People like that never changed.
He wondered if any of the scumbags would recognise him. The staff wouldn’t know him, he’d never set foot in the place. He started walking towards the door. A young girl was leaving and he held the door open for her. She didn’t even look at him.
‘You’re welcome,’ he muttered and walked through the reception area. The middle-aged woman behind the desk didn’t look up as he approached. They might teach sobriety but they didn’t teach manners.
‘Hang on,’ she said and scribbled something on a notepad. Lucas said nothing but continued standing over her, watching as her thin hand shook.
The woman finished her note and sighed, ‘Yes?’ She looked up and did a double take. Lucas knew what it was. The shirt and tie. No one wore a shirt and tie in these places. The woman looked over her shoulder as if dealing with a shirt and tie was something she was incapable of, not in her job description. ‘Can I help?’ she asked, possibly more to herself than him.
‘I’m looking for Ben,’ Lucas said with a smile.
The woman frowned and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, who?’
‘Ben. Sorry, I can’t remember his surname. He works here.’
The
woman looked at him blankly. ‘I don’t know him,’ she said.
‘Well, it was a while ago. He helped me get my life back on track.’
The woman looked behind her again, starting to get flustered.
‘I just wondered if he was here, or if you knew where I could find him?’
The woman shook her head. ‘I couldn’t tell you that, even if I knew. I could ask and see if anyone knows him. What was it regarding again?’
Lucas smiled. The woman had probably been on a week-long training course in customer care. ‘I just wanted to thank him. He saved my life. I wanted him to see what he did for me.’
The woman nodded slightly. Maybe that was too much. He doubted many of the customers here actually were a success, never mind came back to thank anyone. That wouldn’t have been in the training.
‘I’ll go and have a word with my supervisor,’ she said and opened a door that connected the reception to an office behind. Lucas saw two more members of staff sitting drinking coffee: a young man who looked like he was on something stronger than coffee and was wearing sandals in December, and a blonde woman with tight jeans on. From behind she looked quite fit but as she turned around he could see she must’ve been at least late forties. Either that or the drugs had hit her hard.
The woman from the desk had left the door open. The pair were discussing something that’d been on TV the night before. Something about fat people. The receptionist stood, hovering until they noticed her.
‘What’s up, Catherine?’ the blonde woman asked.
‘Where’s Jessie?’
‘She’s gone out. She won’t be long,’ the blonde replied.
‘Something personal,’ Jesus-sandals said. ‘Andrea reckons she’s gone to the clap clinic.’
The blonde shoved him. ‘I never said that.’
Catherine stepped forward, interrupting their flirting. ‘Well, there’s a man here who wants to speak to someone called Ben?’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know who that is.’ Lucas smiled and gave a little wave as they all turned and looked at him. ‘I said I couldn’t give any information anyway,’ Catherine continued. ‘He said Ben got him clean and he wanted to thank him.’
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