‘Your face.’
She said, ‘What’s wrong with my face.’
‘Nothing, apart from the misery written all over it.’
She let out a sigh. She looked on the verge of tears. ‘I just got a call. They put Anna on a plane about an hour ago.’
‘Jesus Christ!’
‘Well, you could try him but I don’t think he’s got much sway with the Border Agency.’
‘But how... why would... Didn’t they think—?’
‘Oh who knows? But a big fucking waste of time and we look like fucking eejits with it all over our front page and launching a fucking campaign when the fucking girl is on a slow boat to China already.’
‘Fuck,’ said Rob.
‘Fuck, indeed.’
They stood, side by side, and sighed at the same time.
She said, ‘Too late to change the front page? Could we not recall the papers and—’
‘No. They’re gone.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘Yup.’
‘Can they even do that?’
‘They clearly have.’
‘You don’t think... we might have caused this... or at least made matters worse?’
‘You mean by poking our noses in, asking questions, threatening a campaign? Yes, possibly.’
‘But that would just make them mean and vindictive.’
‘Possibly. But the truth is probably more mundane than that. They’re just bureaucratic. And efficient. So at least that’s a positive.’
Alix snorted.
Rob managed a smile. ‘Listen, it’s annoying, but it can’t be helped. We did our job, same way as they did theirs. So don’t beat yourself up about it.’
‘Likewise,’ said Alix.
Rob zipped up his jacket. He said, ‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’
‘No, no – I’m fine.’
‘Sure? It’s no problem. I don’t know if you fancy a dr—’
‘Ah, here’s my ride now...’ said Alix, cutting in as a red and sporty Mini pulled into the car park at speed and stopped directly in front of her.
Rob saw a young man with short dark hair and gleaming teeth lean across, give a little wave, and then reach across to open the door for Alix. He appeared to be wearing a bright yellow tracksuit. Rob thought he recognized him from the photo of the netball team on their doomed front page.
Alix stepped forward, put one hand on the door, then glanced back at Rob. ‘See you in the morning,’ she said, and then climbed in before he could respond. She shut the door and the car immediately pulled away. Rob swore to himself. The Aztecs might not have gotten a result, but it looked as if Alix had.
Rob shook his head, swung his keys in his hand, and crossed to his car. His smart car.
He swore again.
CHAPTER 5
THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE QUITE UGLY
Rob’s crappy smart car car wouldn’t start on Monday morning, so he gave Alix a call asking for a lift to work. She thought this was odd because Rob lived pretty close to the office and kept making noises about getting fitter, so she asked him why he didn’t walk, or jog, even. He said it was raining outside. She said, ‘Right enough, wouldn’t want you to dissolve.’ He said, ‘If it’s a problem, it’s fine.’ She said, ‘No, it’s not a problem.’ He said, ‘If you’re not ready...’ She said ‘Always ready’ and promised to be there in ten minutes, which would take some doing as she was half-way through a bowl of oats, her hair was up in a towel and she had the toenails of one foot freshly painted.
But she made it.
Of course she made it.
And a little spray of perfume before she left the car, just in case the one she’d applied before leaving the house had dissipated. She was wearing open-toed sandals, which she was already regretting. Not because it was still raining, but because she’d decided to go with the one-set-of-toes-painted look, which, in the fogginess of the new day she’d thought she might get away with, might almost pass as cool or anarchic, but which in the damp light of a street-lit morning just looked sloppy. She reasoned that Rob wouldn’t notice, and put the nail varnish in her bag, planning to finish the job in the toilets once she got into the office. She was more preoccupied on the journey over with exactly why Rob had phoned her when, besides the fact that he could walk, if he was determined to get a lift, geographically both Michael and Pete lived closer to him. She thought maybe it was because he wanted to fill her in on why his wife, Rebecca of the fat arse, had turned up like that, or he needed a shoulder to cry on because she was probably the only woman – or man, for that matter – in the entire city he felt he could open up to. He was her boss, yes, but they were already pretty good friends. And there was that suggestion of a spark between them – hadn’t they almost kissed outside that art gallery a few weeks back? Hadn’t they felt awkward in the wake of it? That wasn’t just because they’d been very drunk. Or, only partially. She didn’t know how she felt about him. He was the boss. He was older. He wasn’t particularly attractive, wasn’t in any kind of shape – she had a sudden flashback to the netball coach – great snogger, six-pack to die for, vain as a supermodel, a three-times-a-night man, as sleek and reliable as a Ferrari, but you really don’t want to be riding around in a Ferrari all the time, not when you’ve shopping to do in Sainsbury’s, it was just impractical; Rob was much more like a... like a... she didn’t really know her cars, but like a... Land Rover, sturdy and dependable, maybe a little rusty; if you chipped away at it you might get it through the MOT, but irrespective of whether it was legal it would keep going for ever and still be sturdy enough to land on the beaches of Normandy to help rid Europe of Nazis. She was spraying perfume, smiling at the Nazis, final re-touch for her hair, while also thinking what a really, really bad idea it would be to even think about pursuing a relationship with Rob Cullen.
Alix parked beside Rob’s ridiculous little car. She expected that he’d be sitting in it, waiting for her. But no. She pumped her horn. Nothing. She sent him a text. He immediately texted back saying he’d be down in five minutes, or you can come up and wait. Good sense told her to stay where she was, but purely out of journalistic curiosity she decided to take him up on his offer. She wanted to not only see where he lived, but how he lived. He was neat and efficient in his work, but he also always looked ever so slightly dishevelled, as if he lacked a mother to smooth his hair down and tuck in his shirt tails. She wanted to know if he lived in a typical bachelor pad with dishes piled high, air freshener instead of cleaning, a super-sized TV for the watching of football; or if it was pristine, because he’d nothing else to do in his life but clean, clean, clean. It was a relatively recently built apartment block; she read his name on the box outside and pressed his buzzer; he said, sixth floor, number 6D. The foyer was spic and span; the elevator glass recently polished; 6D towards the end of a corridor that gave a shock of electric static as soon as she stepped out onto the carpet. The door was open; she knocked on it anyway and he called ‘Come on in’. And there he was, suit on, tea-towel over one shoulder, spoon-feeding his two children at a kitchen counter. One was in a high chair; one, somewhat precariously perched on a bar stool. His children had never entered her head. Not in a million years. She stood there with her mouth half open, flummoxed. She managed to say, ‘Sorry, I didn’t realize... they were still—’
‘Leaving today,’ said Rob, while performing helicopter manoeuvres.
‘Oh... right... and is your ex coming to—?’
‘No, his ex is right here...’
Alix wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Rebecca-of-the-fat-arse was standing in what had to be the bedroom doorway; she was wearing a shirt that looked a lot like the one Rob had worn to work yesterday, and, apparently, nothing else. She wasn’t just standing in the doorway, she was leaning in it. She had her arms folded, and she had a smile that smacked of... that just wanted to be smacked off.
Alix said, ‘Oh – I didn’t mean to intrude...’
‘Not at all. I think it’
s great that Rob can call up his personal taxi service.’
Rebecca’s eyes flitted up and down, giving her the once-over, and then she turned back into the bedroom.
Alix said ‘Fuck’, but under her breath.
Rob said Sorry, but miming it with an apologetic grimace.
‘Run on, Rob,’ Rebecca called from the bedroom. ‘I’ll take over in a moment.’
‘Nearly done,’ said Rob. He said to Alix, ‘Do you want a wee cup of—’
‘I’ll wait in the car.’
She spun and was out of the door and down the corridor and into the elevator as fast as her heels would carry her; her face was burning. Personal taxi service. Personal fucking taxi service! She told herself, warned herself, to calm down. But who the fuck did Rebecca think she was?
His wife, said a wee voice.
Yes, but who the fuck is she to speak to me like that?
His wife, said a wee voice.
His wife who had fucking assessed her like she was a delivery from Argos. His wife with the big ass who she was virtually certain had spotted her oddly decorated toes and smirked and turned haughtily, dismissively, condescendingly away, with her still-big ass.
Alix slammed into the car and started the engine.
She was going to drive off.
The wee voice told her to catch a grip. What had happened, after all? She’d turned up to give her boss a lift to work. If Rob had had an ulterior motive, he certainly wouldn’t have invited her up; he just wanted a lift. Had Rebecca really actually talked to her the way she’d imagined? Hadn’t she just been joking, having fun? Had she actually looked at her one painted foot and scoffed?
While she was still weighing this up, Rob got into the car.
He said, ‘Sorry about that.’
Which Alix took to be confirmation that Rebecca-with-the-big-ass had been as nasty as she had imagined.
‘None of my business,’ said Alix.
They said nothing the rest of the way in. It wasn’t far, and traffic was light, so it wasn’t like it was a long journey, but still. She was fuming. Embarrassed. Belittled. Screw the painted nails, she had emergency comfortable shoes in her desk drawer. Nobody deserved to see her painted nails. She’d been looking for Nazis all her life. And now she’d found one. Rebecca was a big-assed Nazi.
*
When Alix got to work, first thing she did was go to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Major breaking news could wait until she had a coffee. Gerry and Janine were already in there. Gerry was standing over the open fridge and wondering who’d moved his cheese. Janine said she’d binned it because it was all blue-mouldy. Gerry said it was meant to be like that, and Janine said, ‘Not bloody Philadelphia.’
Pete came and said it was a good movie.
Gerry just said, ‘What?’
‘It was so sad,’ said Janine.
‘What was?’ Gerry asked.
‘Philadelphia,’ said Janine. ‘And it was blue-mouldy.’
‘It was maturing nicely,’ said Gerry.
‘Tom Hanks certainly is,’ said Janine. ‘And it was rancid.’
‘Just... don’t touch my stuff! I own this place!’
Gerry slammed the door and huffed off, though they were all aware that he was mostly only joking. Pete tried to engage Michael in chat about last night’s football, but the boy seemed distracted. He asked if everything was okay and Michael said ‘Sure’, but unconvincingly. Michael took his cup and walked across to Rob’s office. The door was open. Rob looked up from his computer and asked for five minutes to get himself sorted out for their morning editorial meeting. Michael said he wanted a quick chat before it, if he could. Rob, noting the serious look on his face, told him to come in and close the door. As soon as Michael sat down opposite him, he was up again and handing Rob an envelope. Rob took it wordlessly and began to open it up, but before he got there, Michael said, ‘I’ve been offered a place at university. Newcastle. In England. Journalism.’
Rob said, ‘That’s brilliant.’
‘I got it a couple of months ago, but with Mr Maxwell dying, and then you settling in, I’ve kind of been putting off telling... It’s just that I really like it here and I think, I hope, I’m doing okay, so I’m not entirely sure if I want to go or what benefit it would be to me.’
Rob took a quick look at the letter and then folded it back into the envelope. He handed it back across to his young cub reporter. He said, ‘Michael – you’re doing grand here. Absolutely. You’re part of the team. I should really be saying to you to stay, that jobs are hard enough to come by, and now you’ve got the foot in the door you should see it through, that you don’t learn how to be a journalist by studying books and taking a degree, you learn about journalism by being a journalist, on the ground, knocking on those doors.’
‘Yes, I kind of know that.’
‘But at the same time, we’re only a wee local paper, and there’s a big wide world out there. I got out of here as soon as I could. I’d be a hypocrite to advise you not to grab this with both hands. But I’d be sorry to lose you.’
‘I don’t know what to do. My parents are keen for me to—’
There was a knock on the door.
Alix was there.
Rob began to say, ‘If you’d just give us a couple of—’
But she already had the door open.
‘I think you should talk to this guy,’ she said.
‘If you—’
‘This fella’s just walked in, says he’s found a human skull.’
*
His name was Daniel Martin, and he said he’d found it ‘round the Point’. The Point was the finger of rock pointing out to sea at the far end of the bay; it was all pretty wild ground out there, with a public right of way between the beach and the fields that was popular with dog-walkers and a pleasant enough stroll on a summer’s day. Rob had walked it just the weekend before, and nearly got cut off by the tide. Janine had recommended it to him. She hadn’t mentioned the tide. Part of him thought she hadn’t mentioned it on purpose. When she asked him about his walk on the Monday he didn’t say that he’d nearly drowned.
Walking to the counter, Alix said, ‘I can’t decide whether he’s a time waster or he’s genuine. He seems genuine.’
‘The best time wasters always do,’ said Rob.
Daniel Martin was in his late thirties, but had the kind of grizzled look of a much older man, a look that came not with being an out-doorsy kind of a guy, but from being a homeless alcoholic. He was flush-faced and wore his greying hair in a bushy ponytail. Rob shook his hand, and nearly had his own crushed in the process. He was quite relieved to get it back. He tried not to flex his fingers in case they were broken. As Rob said, ‘Daniel, so what’s the story?’ his eyes flitted to Pete, who was just coming into the office. Pete clearly recognized Daniel, gave Rob a slight shake of the head, and almost tiptoed past him. Clearly he’d been caught with him before. For a moment Rob wondered if Alix had purposefully foisted the local nut on him in revenge for that morning’s embarrassment at his apartment.
Daniel said, ‘So I was in the farmer’s field looking for magic mushrooms—’
Rob cut in with, ‘For...’
‘Aye, you have to get them first thing in the morning. That field’s just perfect for them.’ Rob looked at Alix. She was sporting what he could easily have interpreted as a mischievous grin. ‘So anyhow, I was there first thing, not doing any harm to anyone, and next thing I know Farmer Giles was there with a bloody shotgun and a couple of his mates with him too, and I think maybe they thought I was out lamping—’
‘Lamping?’
‘Aye, lamp—’
‘When you go hunting rabbits,’ said Alix, for Rob’s benefit, ‘you blind them with a torch and—’
‘That’s it love,’ said Daniel, ‘but that’s not my game, I was just after the mushrooms, but they weren’t the sort to stop and ask questions, so I took off and they came charging after me. I may not look it, but I’m fit enough, so I led the
m a merry chase...’
‘A merry chase,’ Rob said.
‘I was across two fields, and then there’s, like, a dip down and another field before the main road... you know where I mean?’ Rob nodded, though he wasn’t clear at all. ‘Well I came to the slope and lost me footing there – still mostly dark, grass was wet, boots went from under me, and next thing I’m rolling down the hill right down into the bushes at the bottom and it’s not a soft landing, I tell you that, bloody Farmer Giles has been using it as a dump, all sorts of crap down there, and I try to get to my feet but the ground gives from under me and I’m on my ear again. I put my hand out to stop my fall and when I look down – fucking hell, there’s this, like, skull in my hand. A skull!’
‘You’re sure it was a skull?’
‘Absolutely fucking certain...’
‘But you didn’t bring it with you...?’
‘Well, it wasn’t the first thing on my mind, mate, because Farmer fucking Giles right at that moment lets loose with his shotgun and nearly takes the arse off me, so I dropped the bastard and ran like billy-o. You see, I knew if I made it to the road then I’d be safe, they couldn’t touch me, like crossing the state line in an old Western, you know what I mean?’
Rob nodded. Alix was still smiling.
Rob said, ‘You’re sure it was a human skull? Not like a sheep’s skull?’
‘Mate, I know the difference between a sheep and a human.’
‘And you’ve told the police this?’
‘No, the police and me, we don’t agree. I wouldn’t give them the skin off my custard. No I came to you because... well, it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? Someone lying dead out there, they deserve, like – proper burial and all that shit.’
Daniel nodded from Rob to Alix.
Rob said, ‘Would you give us a minute?’
‘Sure.’
Rob gave him a nod and indicated for Alix to join him in his office. As he closed the door behind her he said, ‘Thanks a lot. That certainly needed my attention.’
‘It’s a skull. Skulls don’t come along every day.’
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