Jack felt his heart hammering. It was hard to breathe. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Her head was bowed, eyes on her hands. ‘I … killed someone.’
Jack felt the world slip away beneath him. His head began to spin. He blinked. Once, twice. Looked at his mother. She was looking at him now, as if in pain.
‘Who …’ His voice sounded like someone else’s in his head.
‘A … child. A boy. And someone’s found out about it. And they still hate me for it. And they want us to leave.’
Jack’s head was now spinning like he was on a fairground ride. He had no words, no coherent thought, to describe how he felt at the words.
‘I … I used to be called another name. But that wasn’t me. I am who I am now. It was … a … horrible thing to do. And I hate myself for it. I never stop thinking about it. I had a horrible time when I was a little girl. A horrible time …’
He looked at her, unable to speak. His mother started crying.
‘I’m sorry … I’m sorry …’
Jack felt like he would collapse. The walls seemed to be moving in on him. He felt trapped, suffocated. He swallowed. His throat was dry. He needed water, he needed air.
‘You … you …’
‘I’m still you mother, son. I love you. I won’t let nothin’ bad happen to you. I promise. It was … I was a different person then. Sometimes you do somethin’ bad. Everyone does. Well, I did the worst thing imaginable.’
Jack stood up. ‘No … no …’ He had to get out of there. Get some fresh air.
‘Jack, please …’
‘No … no …’
‘Jack …’
A sudden thought came to him, knifing into his mind, cutting through his mental fog. ‘The estate … there were two boys killed this week.’
Anne Marie reached out, tried to grab him. Didn’t connect. ‘I had nothin’ to do with them, honest.’
He looked at her bandaged hands. ‘Two boys …’
‘It wasn’t me …’
‘No …’ He had to get out. He had to think. He wanted to scream, to cry, to run. He wanted to sleep. Curl up into a ball, let oblivion overtake him. ‘No …’
He turned, made for the stairs and, before anyone could stop him, lurched down them.
‘Jack!’
Anne Marie reached the top of the stairs, he heard her behind him, following him. He ran. Through the front door, out into the lane.
‘Jack …’
He ran. And kept running.
‘Oh God, what have I done … what have I done …’
She sits on the sofa. Looking like all the life has drained from her, just the crumpled shell of a human being remaining. Donovan sits down beside her. She doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge his presence even.
He waits. Knows she will start speaking again soon.
‘Oh God …’
‘It was a risk,’ he says.
She says nothing.
‘D’you want to go after him? D’you want me to go after him?’
After a long time, or what seems like a long time, she shakes her head. ‘No. Give him time to think. We’ll … hopefully we’ll talk later …’
‘OK. Listen, do you want to keep talking? Or would you rather have a break?’
She sighs again. Before she can answer, Donovan’s mobile rings. He excuses himself to her, answers it. He walks to the other side of the room, away from her. Talks, hangs up He comes back, sits down next to her on the sofa again.
‘Well,’ he says. That was Amar. He’s on the way herefrom the station. He’s bringing someone to meet you. I think it should solve a lot of problems.’
She looks up, a fearful expectation in her eyes. ‘Is it …’ She can’t bring herself to finish the question.
Donovan nods. ‘It sounds like we’ve got him. All you have to do is see him for yourself, we’ll take him away and then that’ll be it.’
She is still looking at him, desperately wanting to believe him. Fear overtakes her. ‘No, he’ll see me, he’ll get me …’
‘No, he won’t. Amar will bring him in, you can see that he’s going nowhere and then we’ll hand him over to the police. End of story. The spell will be broken. No more bad spirits.’
She looks like she desperately wants to believe him but fear won’t allow her to.
‘I promise.’
She sighs again. Nods. Lets his words sink in, realizes he is telling the truth. And then the tears start.
26
‘Thanks,’ Jack said.
‘What for?’
‘For meeting me like this. When I called. I … I really appreciate it.’
Abigail smiled. ‘That’s what friends are for.’
They were back in the same juice bar in Eldon Square but everything else was different. The day was ending, the sky had darkened, the air harsher and colder. When they looked out of the window over to Eldon Square itself, the harmless goths, emos and drunks of the daytime seemed to have taken on a more sinister aspect. Shadowed and hunched and sodium-lit, they no longer sprawled, they patrolled, guarded their territory, warned unwary wanderers to stay away.
All around them the staff were trying to close up, their daytime shifts coming to an end. Jack was conscious of all this, but he didn’t want to give up his time with Abigail so easily.
He had phoned her as soon as he had stopped running after he left Albion. His head was so messed up, he couldn’t think. It was far too early to describe, even to himself, what impact his mother’s revelation had on him. He had to talk to someone. Not even to sort it out – because there was nothing he could do to sort it out, it had already happened – just to connect. Abigail had been the obvious choice. And, of course, he wanted to see her again. Even under these circumstances. Under any circumstances.
He watched her sip her smoothie through her straw. Loved the way her cheeks went in, the way she swallowed. The enjoyment in her eyes as the liquid went down. She looked up, caught him staring. Looked away quickly.
She licked her lips, sat back, looked at him once more. He noticed something in her eyes. A distraction, a tension. Was it him causing that, or was there something more? Something she hadn’t said?
He watched her. ‘So, what about you? Everything fine with you? Your trip to Newcastle still working out well?’ God, that was so lame. Why couldn’t he come out with anything but lame stuff when he was with her?
She sighed, sat back, flicking her long hair out of the way. ‘God, where do I start?’
He smiled. ‘Wherever you like.’ He hoped she would talk. That’s what he needed. To hear her talk. To not have to think too much about his own troubles, lose himself in someone else.
‘Well, I had a shock this morning. Just when I thought everything was going well, I bumped into my dad’s girlfriend.’
‘Where?’
‘In the kitchen.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. She was like, oh, you must be the daughter. I’ve just, you know, shagged your dad.’
He laughed. Abigail seemed taken aback at his reaction and he thought he had done the wrong thing again. But then she joined him.
‘Yeah,’ she said, smiling, ‘when you say it like that it does sound kind of funny. But it wasn’t at the time.’
‘Are your parents divorced, then?’
‘No, but they’re separated. Haven’t lived together since – for years.’
‘Well, that’s OK, isn’t it? For them both to have new people in their lives?’
‘I suppose so. It’s just that … that’s why I came up here. Mum’s got this new guy. And he’s OK, you know. She likes him and that. And he’s good to me. But sometimes he gets all, you know, like, telling me what to do. Like, I’m your dad. I say, you’re not. You’re my mum’s boyfriend. Don’t act like my dad. And he gets all, like, upset and we have a row.’
Jack nodded. ‘I know the feeling.’
‘Right. Well, last week, she announces to me, well, they both do. You know, sitting down on the sofa toget
her, me on a chair, them looking at me, smiling. Then they tell me. Mum’s going to get divorced from dad. And they’re going to get married. And I just blew up.’
Jack frowned. ‘Why? You didn’t think they’d get back together again, did you?’
Abigail puts her head down, her hair falling forward. She plays with her straw, swirling it round her glass, scraping the froth off the sides. ‘Well … you kind of hope they would. And … well, this just seems so final.’
Jack nodded. ‘But it happens all the time.’
‘Yeah, but …’ She sighed, still scraping at the froth. ‘There’s something else. Something I haven’t told you yet.’
Yet. He liked that yet. ‘What?’
My … brother. I had a brother. Have, I don’t know.’
‘What, what happened to him?’
‘He disappeared. He was out shopping with my dad and then …’ She shrugged. ‘He just disappeared.’
‘God.’
‘Yeah. We tried to find him, my dad spent years looking for him. And he couldn’t find him. Not a trace. It was what split us up, really. What sent him away. Just, David not being there any more.’
‘But … he still had you.’
‘I know. And that used to make me so angry. Because I was there and David wasn’t. And Dad went looking for David. Really angry. But he said to me, if it was the other way round, if it was me who’d disappeared, he would do the same. He wouldn’t stop until he found me.’ She sighed. ‘But it didn’t matter. I was so angry I couldn’t see that.’
‘And he never found him?’
She shook her head. ‘And he says he’ll never stop looking.’
‘And now your mum wants to divorce him.’
She nodded. ‘Yeah. And I suppose the thing that makes me cross, really cross, is that it means David’s dead, you know? If she marries Michael it means that’s it. That’s the end.’
She looked out of the window, wiped tears from her eyes. Continued talking, eyes on the darkness outside.
‘So I ran away. Came to see my dad. See if they could get back together again. One last time. And then I met her.’
He nodded. He wished there was something more he could do, even lean across the table, take her hand, let her know he was there for her. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. She turned back to him.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t get like this.’
‘Hey,’ he said trying to smile. ‘That’s what friends are for, right?’
She smiled. ‘You’re really … thanks for listening.’ She reached across the table, put her hand on his. His heart began to race. He didn’t know what to do, whether to pull away, put his other one on top of it, grip hen harder, what. In the end he decided to just stay as he was and hope the smile on his face wasn’t too soppy.
She ended it herself, giving his hand a squeeze and pulling away. She wiped her eyes again. ‘God, I must look a mess.’
‘No.’ He looked straight at her. ‘No, you don’t.’
Their eyes locked. Then she looked away. ‘So,’ she said, ‘how about you? Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk about?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. And Abigail sitting there in the brightly lit café, after hearing about her troubles, his own and his mother’s seemed to belong to a different world. ‘It’s a bit … complicated. Maybe …’ He shrugged, tried to smile. ‘Maybe it’s not that important.’
‘OK. Whatever.’ She looked at her smoothie again then glanced round. The staff were cleaning tables, stacking up furniture. ‘I think they want us out of here.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jack. What did they do next? ‘Are you … where are you going now?’
She shrugged. ‘Nowhere. I’m not in a hurry to go back to the flat in case she’s there again. What about you?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’
She smiled. ‘Yeah, that would be great.’
They left their table, walked out into Eldon Square.
Unaware that someone who had watched them enter the juice bar and waited patiently outside on a seat all the time they were inside, was following them.
The taxi pulled up outside Albion. Amar paid the driver, made sure he got a receipt. The cab pulled away, leaving Amar and Flemyng standing there.
‘Here we are,’ Amar said. ‘Journey’s end.’
He opened the door with his key, pushed Flemyng inside.
‘Joe? Hi, honey, I’m home,’ he said in an exaggerated, camp American voice.
Donovan came down from upstairs. Saw Amar and his reluctant guest in the doorway. ‘Come on in,’ he said. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’
He motioned Amar to follow him upstairs and to bring Flemyng with him. On the way up, he says to Amar. ‘I’ve told her what’s happening so she knows what to expect. If we show him to her then get him out of the way, that should do the trick.’
‘Fine by me,’ said Amar.
They reached the top of the stairs. Donovan knocked. ‘You decent?’
‘Yuh – yeah.’ Anne Marie’s voice, through the door, was small, unsteady.
‘OK.’ He put his hand on the door handle.
‘Wait, please.’ Flemyng put his hand on Donovan’s arm. ‘There’s no need for this. It’s just dredging up unpleasant memories. For both of us. Why put her through this now? What do you have to gain from it?’
Donovan gave a tight smile. ‘Nice try. But you’re still going through with it.’
He opened the door. Anne Marie was still sitting on the sofa, a look of expectant dread on her face.
‘Here he is.’
Donovan ushered Flemyng into the room, Amar behind him, ready to grab him if he made a run.
Anne Marie’s face turned to a mask of horror. ‘No … no … take him away. Not him, no …’
Donovan looked between Amar and Flemyng, then back to Anne Marie.
‘No … no …’
‘But, Anne Marie, this is him. Martin Flemyng. This is the guy.’
‘No, it’s not! Not him! He’s not Jack’s father …’
‘What?’ Flemyng tried to make a run for it. Amar grabbed him.
‘What?’ said Donovan. ‘You never said he was Jack’s father …’
‘No, he’s not the one. He’s not the one …’ Anne Marie looked distraught.
‘Shit.’ Donovan looked at Amar.
They had the wrong man.
Jack and Abigail were sitting at a table in Pizza Hut on Grainger Street in the city centre. They didn’t know of many places to eat and this was one of the cheapest and also one of Jack’s favourites. Abigail hadn’t minded. She didn’t know anywhere else either.
They had pooled their remaining money, realized that they had enough for a large pizza plus salad and drinks. That was fine, thought Jack. Anything to extend his time with Abigail.
‘Do you have to go home soon?’ asked Jack.
Abigail shrugged. ‘Don’t know. I’m waiting for my dad to call me. Find out where I am. We’re still not speaking.’
Jack nodded. ‘Right.’
‘What about you?’
He shrugged. ‘Same. My mum and I … we had a bit of a falling out today.’
‘Is that what you wanted to say earlier?’
He nodded.
‘What about?’
‘Well …’ He still didn’t know whether to tell her or not. He trusted her, probably the only person he could think of to open up to, but once he said it there would be no going back. The words would be out there. And what would she think of him? Would her opinion change? What would she do? ‘She … she just told me a bit of bad news, that’s all.’
Abigail leaned forward, concern on her face. ‘What kind?’
‘Well …’ Here it comes. Now or never, he thought.
‘Excuse me …’
They both looked up. A man was standing at their table. Short, bearded. Quite old. Wearing jeans, a plaid shirt and a suede jacket. He looked genial, smiling, yet slightly apprehensive at interrupting them.
‘Are you …’ He checked on a piece of paper. ‘Jack Smeaton and Abigail Donovan?’
They exchanged glances with each other. ‘Yes,’ said Abigail.
He smiled in evident relief, exhaled a great sigh. Smiled again. ‘Thank God for that. I’ve been all over town looking for you both. Tried everywhere. Just pleased that you got hungry eventually. I’m sorry to disturb you when you’re eating, but I’ve got a message from your dad. I work with him at Albion.’
‘My dad?’ said Abigail.
‘Yes, your dad. Joe Donovan. He says he wants to see you both straight away. Back at his place. The office.’
They exchanged glances once more.
‘Why?’ said Abigail. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I think you’d better ask him yourself. He just asked me to come and get you, if that’s OK.’
Abigail frowned. ‘Why didn’t he phone me?’
‘He said that …’ He rubbed his chin, looked embarrassed at what he was about to say. ‘… that you didn’t exactly part on good terms this morning. He thought you might have your phone turned off.’
Abigail shared another glance at Jack. That explanation seemed to have mollified her, calmed her fears.
‘If you want to phone him, please feel free. But let’s do it on the way. We’ve got to hurry.’
A spear of dread shot through Jack. ‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘Nothing to worry about,’ said the smiling man, giving Jack all his attention. ‘There’s been some … developments in what he’s working on, that’s all. And he wants you both there, where you’re safe.’
Jack looked at Abigail once more. She looked as uneasy as he did. They both had fears and concerns and knew not to go off with strangers, even in their teens. But this man knew things no one else could, unless he was who he said he was.
‘Well,’ the man said, ‘it’s up to you. I don’t blame you. Some guy rocks up, says who he is and wants you to go with him. Like I said, if you want to phone your dad you can do. Same with you and your mum, Jack. But you’d better do it on the way. We have to hurry.’
That settled it. Jack stood up. Abigail, still nursing doubts but trusting in Jack’s judgement, did likewise.
Besides, thought Jack, the man was old, fat, cheerful and he didn’t give out any serial killer vibes. How threatening could he be?’
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