by Luke Walker
‘Who?’ she said again. ‘We don’t know anyone who’d do something so shitty. Even if we did, why now?’
She gazed at their furniture, at the big TV, and at the patio window. Here they were in their nice house with its nice garden and their nice jobs in nice Cambridge and here they were with something that made no sense.
She glanced at Will, meaning to say something that would be as comforting as she could make it and saw the look in his eyes. All at once, she felt as if she stood a hundred feet up on a tiny ledge.
He looks young.
The panic vanished. Dismay took its place. She fought it and gazed at Will. While it might have made sense for this—whatever this was—to have aged him, it had done the opposite. A wildness shone from his eyes. The muscles in his face jumped and one hand gripped his knee to keep his leg from jiggling. Tendons stood high on his forearm, but more obvious than those things was the something new in his face.
Not new. Old. She hadn’t seen it for years.
He looks young. Oh God. What the hell is this?
Panic and fear raced through her and in an attempt to ignore both, Karen registered a third emotion. Jealousy.
She cleared her throat and remembered the taste that filled her mouth in the car park. She hadn’t told Will what it was, hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so.
It’ll be a long time before he gets another blowjob.
Horrified laughter rose and she coughed to hide it. Ignoring Will reaching for her, she stood and her gaze landed on the drawing on the table.
It was looking at her.
There’s no way we can stop this.
The thought didn’t make any sense and it didn’t matter. What mattered was the look in Will’s eyes.
‘I need to call Stu,’ he said.
His mobile rang.
Eight
‘Elton, you fairy,’ Stu said.
His eyes were closed, had been from the moment he’d pressed a thumb over their number on his phone. Even though he’d closed his eyes and the kitchen door, he’d been unable to block out the outside world. The sound of the TV was a meaningless drone from the next room, occasionally punctuated by Lucy’s giggles at Kirsty’s singing. Despite the closed doors and his closed eyes, he saw his wife and daughter as easily as he would have done had they been right beside him.
He didn’t want them beside him now, though. Not with this conversation.
‘Stu?’ Will said. And was there something other than surprise there? Yes. There was definitely something.
‘The one and only. How’s it going?’
‘I’m okay. You? Shit. This is strange. I was just about to call you. How long’s it been?’
Nothing since Christmas. How about that, Big Willy?
‘Long time. I saw you were on Facebook a couple of weeks ago. Anyway. How’s Karen?’
‘Good. I’ll pass you over.’
‘Hold on a second, Will. Need to talk to you.’
Stu opened his eyes, gazed at the window over the sink and wished that night had come so he wouldn’t be able to see the pavement and road.
‘Why? What’s up?’ Will asked.
‘You were about to call me?’ he said and the pause was long enough for Stu to wonder at the fear making goosebumps rise on his arms and shoulders.
Eventually, Will managed to reply. ‘Yeah. Been a strange day.’
‘Been a strange few days here,’ Stu said before he could stop himself.
‘Why?’
Will asked his question after another pause and Stu imagined Karen beside him, listening to half a conversation. Although he hadn’t seen Will or Karen in best part of a year, picturing them was oddly easy.
She’s cut her hair shorter; it’s at her neck now and lighter than it was. She’s lost weight. So’s he. Needs a shave, too. There’s ink on his fingers. The tips are black.
Stu’s stomach rolled. The thought wasn’t his. How the hell could he know that Karen had cut her hair or that Will needed a shave?
What the hell is this?
‘Stu? You there?’
‘Here, Willy. Stupot in the house.’
Stu said the words before he realised he’d even thought them and a burst of pain came with them.
Will laughed and, thankfully, it sounded real. ‘Shit, it’s been centuries since I heard that.’
‘About that long.’
There was another pause, one that still hurt but a hurt he could handle. Stu inhaled deeply several times. Brief tears fell. He wiped his eyes and said: ‘It’s Geri, Will. It’s about Geri.’
And when Will replied, there was no surprise in his words. There was only an ache.
‘Yeah. I know. She’s come to see us, too.’
Nine
Andy stood beside the doors ten minutes before the train arrived in Dalry. His luggage pressed against his shins and he kept glancing at it as if expecting it to have vanished. Maybe disappeared here and returned to London without him.
Why not? Stranger things had happened lately.
He watched the fields and trees grow more sporadic as houses and roads took their place. Then industrial estates, seemingly asleep this afternoon; then roads busier the closer they drew to the centre of the city.
Andy gave it a minute’s thought and decided at least eighteen months had passed since he’d last been in Dalry and that had been a quick weekend trip to see his mother. The little he’d seen in a few minutes didn’t look much different to how he remembered it. A couple of tall office blocks were now flats and there looked to be some work going on beside the river, although it was hard to be sure as they passed over the water and the great clacking rose from the bridge. Beyond that, it was Dalry as he’d known it for the first twenty odd years of his life.
The thought was pleasing and Andy realised he was smiling as the train closed in on the station. He saw a tiny fraction of Thorpe Road and was unable to stop himself picturing that long road curving into the suburban areas of Dalry, of the streets he’d known, of the houses and his school.
I think I’m getting old.
The thought made him smile a little more. That smile died as he remembered the day before. Stu had called him for the first time in God knew how long and got into it without much warning.
I just spoke to Will. He said I should call you. It’s about Geri, Andy.
No pause. No chance for him to think of a reason why he couldn’t go back to Dalry. No time to think of the most convincing way to tell Stu he was full of shit. Only time to wonder if he was going to vomit, then time to say he’d get the train and see them all tomorrow night. As soon as he’d hung up, he shouted at himself he should have got out of it. Why not tell Stu he couldn’t make it or that the whole thing was stupid or he’d be there next week? At least that would have given him some time to think.
Andy had smacked the window and relished the throbbing in his palm. It shut the voice up. Even if it hadn’t, he knew why he hadn’t said any of that stuff to Stu.
He’d seen. He’d been back in his childhood flat. It was real just like Will’s drawing was apparently real. Having a go at Stu or saying he couldn’t make it wouldn’t make either less real.
Andy knew that. And still he wished to be back in London, to be anywhere but closing in on his hometown.
‘Shit,’ he breathed and pressed his forehead against the window. The train passed a retail park, then greenery. Andy stared at the fields, at a herd of still cows and pictured himself getting off this train in Dalry and getting straight on the next one to London. The picture was as clear as the fields and cows.
Get off the train. Get on the one going back to London and call Stu. Tell him there’d been a change of plan. He saw it as if it had already happened.
Bollocks, he told himself.
In his jeans pocket, his mobile rang. He glanced at the screen but didn’t recognise the number. He answered it, raising his voice over the noise of the train wheels.
‘Hello?’
‘Andy?’
<
br /> A woman’s voice, disturbed by a crackle of interference.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Karen.’
‘Hey, Karen. How are you? Everything okay?’
His voice sounded normal to him. And never mind about the sudden increase in his heartrate. This was Karen. This was Karen and Will and what was frightening about two people he’d known forever?
‘Yeah, we’re fine. Where are you?’
Another crackle came, loud enough to make him flinch.
‘Almost in Dalry. What about you?’
‘Almost …’ crackle ‘ …tunnel. Should be there in an hour.’
‘Good stuff. Where are you staying?’
His mouth was too dry to get the words out properly. The train was slowing and it could only be seconds before the other passengers were right behind him, pressing into him.
‘Will’s dad.’ More interference broke Karen’s voice in half and Andy flinched again.
‘Karen?’
‘Yeah?’
Her voice sounded clearly and Andy laughed for the first time in days.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing you. Is that strange?’
She laughed as well and repeated his words to Will, then Andy caught a murmured reply. Karen came back to the phone.
‘Looking forward to seeing you, too, although Will says “Pateman, you’re a big poof.’”
He laughed, more static crackled and it was no longer important. His fear had lessened and that could only be a good thing.
‘Karen, this is a pretty bad line. I’ll see you tonight, okay?’
He caught her goodbye and pocketed his mobile with relief. As he pressed it into his pocket, a soft voice asked why Karen had called him. To say hello? Not likely. Not when they’d be together in a few hours.
Behind, people filled the narrow corridor and took their luggage from the racks. Andy let the thought go. He held his bag, gripped the handle beside the door and tried to control his breathing. Through the little window in the door, the edge of the shopping centre came into view, then the bulk of it. On the surface at least, it hadn’t changed at all in eighteen months. As the train passed, he kept his eyes level with the building, picturing the shops inside, the escalators, the wide seating areas and the daylight shining through the skylights. For a moment, it was easy to pretend this was just a trip to the hometown for someone’s birthday or maybe a wedding. Getting off the train, squeezing through the crowds around the exit, grabbing a taxi, get to his mum’s house, a shower and some food, then to the pub to see old faces and tell stories of old days.
Fat chance.
The train eased to a gradual halt. Andy tightened his hold around the handle of his bag as the door slid open and there was the platform, just a few steps away, waiting for him.
Move now or you won’t ever move.
The thought sent him forward before anyone behind had chance to comment on his lack of movement. He stepped down to the platform and crossed quickly to a bench. Around, people strode from all directions, passing him, suitcases and bags wheeled on the ground. Andy pressed himself against the bench and fought the urge to throw himself back on the train and go anywhere that wasn’t Dalry.
‘Get a grip, you ponce,’ he whispered and the words were so like Stu’s that he laughed. Nobody heard it; the sheer volume of people prevented the sound from carrying. He covered his mouth with both hands as if blocking a cough and laughed again.
‘This is mad,’ he said and that also helped. Made it feel as if this was happening to someone else.
He glanced at his watch. 4:19. Plenty of time to get back to his mum’s, shower, eat, get changed, speak to the old dear for a bit and then find out the plan. Stu hadn’t specified anything during their brief conversation the day before. There’d been no need to. And definitely no need to say Geri’s name. They knew what this was about.
‘Course you do,’ he muttered and realised he’d spoken aloud. With that realisation, another crowded in. He was more terrified now he was back home than he had been during his visions of St Mary’s.
Still wishing he was anywhere but Dalry, Andy took his bag and joined the flow of people to the station exit.
Ten
Mick sat on a bench opposite the taxis and studied his mobile. Behind, the shadow cast by the Station Hotel buried him and the bench. Although the afternoon wasn’t much beyond mild, the coolness in the shadow was welcome. This little spot seemed quieter than the pavements and roads. There was space to think here.
For the third time, Mick read the text he’d typed. Telling Jodie the train had been delayed and that he’d only just arrived; telling her a lie and it came easy. Telling the truth that he’d been sitting on the bench for almost an hour was just stupid and he couldn’t have that. There was no way to explain it because it didn’t make sense. Better to lie.
He read the text a fourth time, decided it wasn’t personal enough and added three X’s at the end. Putting their standard end to a text was a sham act. Adding a kiss for her and a kiss for the babies, that was something another bloke would do. That guy wouldn’t be sitting here in the shade; that guy wouldn’t even be in fucking Dalry.
‘Fuck it,’ Mick said and sent the text. The delivery report arrived a few seconds later. Mick deleted it and slid his mobile into his coat pocket.
Okay. Text sent. Now what?
That was obvious. Get the fuck out of here.
Mick grinned, wondering if anything had ever seemed less funny. He watched a group of teenage girls exit the station, all of them laughing, their shadows long, and their voices high. One saw him looking, nudged a friend and they both appraised him as he studied them.
Mick gave them a sunny smile, expecting abuse. The girl who’d see him first returned the smile and Mick allowed himself a snigger when she walked on with her friends.
‘Girls,’ he muttered.
All the pretty girls. All the smiling girls who’d come his way back in the old days. He pictured their faces, said their names in his head and said Geri’s name aloud.
Geri. The one who got away.
He didn’t smile at that thought.
He stood and his gaze landed on a man outside the station entrance. The man shielded his eyes from the sun and stared across the road at him.
‘Andy?’ Mick muttered with dumb surprise. His mind flipped back to a day that had to be over a year before, a wedding reception. Him, Andy, Stu and Will all drunk, all laughing and all promising to keep in touch.
Neil and Sarah’s wedding, a voice said. April last year. You never kept in touch.
Andy crossed over the road, dropping his hand from his eyes to offer it to Mick to shake and Mick grabbed him, held him hard.
‘Pateman, you fucker,’ he said.
Andy slapped his back. ‘Nice to see you, shithead. Been too long.’
The men stared at each other, luggage at their feet. Abruptly, Mick let out a great burst of laughter.
‘It’s been a long time, me old fruit,’ he said.
‘Got to be a year. Neil and Sarah’s wedding, wasn’t it?’
Over a year. You never kept in touch, Mick’s mind whispered to him again and he wished for the voice to die.
‘Yeah, probably.’ He managed a smile which felt pretty close to genuine. ‘Looking good.’ He grabbed at Andy’s beard. ‘Not sure about this, though. Giving it the Peter Sutcliffe look?’
Andy sniggered. ‘Fuck you.’
They stared at one another, silent for a moment.
‘Stu phoned you?’ Andy said.
‘Will did. Said he’d spoken to Stu.’
The laughter, seconds gone, felt as if it had never been. Mick searched for something to say that would bring it back, a mention of the teenage girls, more insults. Anything.
‘What happened to you?’ he muttered.
Andy shook his head. ‘Long story. And I need at least a few pints to tell it.’
‘Yeah.’ Mick pulled his mobile from his pocket, gazed at it for a moment, th
en put it away. ‘I got a phone call. I hope I never get another one like it. I was with Jodie. We were having a drink and my phone rang.’ He wiped his lips. ‘Jesus, I’m sweating just thinking about it. I heard her, Andy. She was a kid. She was crying. And I heard myself. I was telling her to cheer up. I heard us as kids.’ He shook his head. ‘Jodie thought I was taking the piss for a minute. I wish I had been.’
They gazed at the ground, neither speaking for a moment.
‘You staying at your mum’s?’ Mick asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘Share a taxi?’
Andy laughed, a healthy, honest sound. A few seconds passed during which Mick believed this was all utterly normal. They were back in town for a wedding or something like that. They’d all get together and they’d all get drunk and all would be as cool as it always had been.
‘Yeah,’ Andy said.
Mick lifted his bag and swung the strap over his shoulder. Andy gripped the handle of his case. An abrupt burst of fresh wind blew over them and scattered leaves.
This isn’t normal. Not at all, Mick thought and tried to ignore himself. He could focus on the shitty business that had brought them here. He could think of that and be miserable and frightened. Or he could talk to his friend and be glad to see him.
He made his decision in a heartbeat.
‘So,’ he said. ‘You still like little boys?’
The men gripped their luggage and crossed over to the taxis, both talking as the wind grew stronger.
Eleven
Stu closed the door to his daughter’s bedroom and remained still, listening. He pressed an ear against the door. No sounds emerged from inside and he let out the breath he’d been holding for the last few seconds. Getting Lucy to sleep easily tonight was a huge stroke of luck. Stu knew he could have been with her for another hour at least, in and out of her bedroom while she cried or needed her nappy changing. Tonight, though, she’d dropped off in minutes which gave him plenty of time to get ready and get to the pub.
He counted to thirty silently and walked to the downstairs hallway. Kirsty stood at the kitchen door, arms folded over her breasts.
‘All right?’ Stu said.
‘Yes.’
Stu attempted a smile. ‘Yes said like that means no, you’re not.’