After You

by Jojo Moyes

  made tea, but inside I simmered with an anger I didn’t dare show.

  As soon as Lily went off to bed I beckoned Sam silently onto the fire escape. We climbed up to the roof, where I could be sure I wouldn’t be heard, and as he sat down on the same little wrought iron bench, I told him what she had told me in that spot just a few hours earlier. “She thinks it’s going to hang over her forever. He still has the phone, Sam.”

  I wasn’t sure I had ever been so furious. All evening, as the television burbled in front of me, I had recast the last weeks in a new light: I thought about the times the boy had hung around downstairs, the way Lily had hidden her phone under the sofa cushions when she thought I might see it, the way she had sometimes flinched when a new message came through. I thought of her stuttering words—of the way she described her relief when she thought she had been rescued—and then the horror of what was to come next. I thought about the arrogance of a man who had seen a young girl in distress and viewed it as an opportunity.

  Sam motioned to me to sit down, but I couldn’t keep still. I paced backward and forward across the roof terrace, my fists tight, my neck rigid. I wanted to throw things over the edge. I wanted to find this Mr. Garside. He came and stood behind me and rubbed at the knots in my shoulders. I suspected it was his way of just making me stand still.

  “I actually want to kill him.”

  “It can be arranged.”

  I looked around at Sam to see if he was joking, and was the tiniest bit disappointed when I realized he was.

  It had grown chilly up there in the stiff night breeze, and I wished I had brought up a jacket. “Maybe we should just go to the police. It’s blackmail, isn’t it?”

  “He’ll deny it. There are a million places he could hide a phone. And if her mother was telling the truth nobody is going to believe Lily over a so-called pillar of the community. That’s how these people get away with it.”

  “But how do we get that phone off him? She won’t be able to move forward while she knows he’s out there, while that image is still out there.” I was shivering. Sam took his jacket off and hung it around my shoulders. It carried the residual warmth of him, and I tried not to look as grateful as I felt.

  “We can’t turn up at his office or her parents will find out. We could e-mail him? Tell him he has to send it back, or else?”

  “He’s hardly just going to cough it up. He might not even answer an e-mail—that could be used as evidence.”

  “Oh, it’s hopeless.” I let out a long moan. “Maybe she’s just going to have to learn to live with it. Maybe we can convince her that it’s as much in his interest to forget what happened as it is hers. Because it is, right? Maybe he’ll just get rid of the phone himself.”

  “You think she’ll go with that?”

  “No.” I rubbed my eyes. “I can’t bear it. I can’t bear that he’ll get away with it. That creepy, nasty, manipulative, limo-driving scumbag . . .” I stood up and gazed out at the city below me, feeling briefly despairing. I could see the future: Lily, defensive and wild, as she tried to escape the shadow of her past. That phone was the key to her behavior, to her future.

  Think, I told myself. Think what Will would do. He would not have let this man win. I had to strategize like he would. I watched the traffic creeping slowly past the front door of my block. I thought of Mr. Garside’s big black car cruising the streets of Soho. I thought about a man who moved silently and easily through life, confident that it would always work his way.

  “Sam?” I said. “Is there a drug you could give that could stop someone’s heart?”

  He let that hang in the air for a moment. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “No. Listen. I’ve got an idea.”

  • • •

  She said nothing at first. “You’ll be safe,” I said. “And this way nobody has to know a thing.” What moved me most was that she didn’t ask me the question I had been asking myself ever since I outlined my plan to Sam. How do you know this will actually work?

  “I’ve got it all lined up, sweetheart,” Sam said.

  “But nobody else knows . . .”

  “Anything. Just that he’s hassling you.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  She pulled at her sleeve, then murmured, “And you won’t leave me with him. At all.”

  “Not for one minute.”

  She chewed her lip. Then she looked at Sam, and over at me. And something seemed to settle inside her. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  • • •

  I bought a cheap, pay-as-you-go handset and called Lily’s stepfather’s workplace and got Mr. Garside’s mobile phone number from his secretary by pretending we had arranged to meet for a drink. That evening, I waited for Sam to arrive. Then I sent a text to Garside’s number.

  Mr. Garside. I’m sorry about hitting you. I just freaked. I want to sort it out. L

  He let half an hour pass before responding, probably to make her sweat.

  Why should I talk to you, Lily? You were very rude after all the help I gave you.

  “Prick,” muttered Sam.

  I know. I’m sorry. But I do need your help.

  This is not a one-way street, Lily.

  I know. You just gave me a shock. I needed time to think. Let’s meet up. I’ll give you what you want, but you have to give me the phone first.

  I don’t think you get to dictate terms, Lily.

  Sam looked at me. I looked back at him, thinking, then began to type.

  Not even . . . if I’m a really bad girl?

  A pause.

  Now you’ve got my interest.

  Sam and I exchanged a look. “I just did a little sick in my mouth,” I said.

  Tomorrow night then. I’ll send you the address when I’ve checked my friend will be out.

  When we were sure he wouldn’t respond, Sam put the phone in his pocket, where Lily couldn’t see it, and held me for a long time.

  • • •

  I was almost ill with nerves the next day, and Lily was worse. We picked at our breakfast, and I let Lily smoke in the flat, and was almost tempted to ask for a cigarette myself. We watched a film and did some chores badly, and by seven thirty that evening, when Sam arrived, my head was buzzing so much I could barely speak.

  “Did you send the address?” I asked him.

  “Yup.”

  “Show me.”

  The phone message was simply the address of my flat and signed L.

  He had responded: I have a meeting in town and then I’ll be there shortly after eight.

  “You okay?” he said.

  My stomach tightened. I felt as if I could hardly breathe. “I don’t want to get you into trouble. I mean—what if you get found out? You’ll lose your job.”

  Sam shook his head. “Won’t happen.”

  “I shouldn’t have pulled you into this mess. You’ve been so brilliant and I feel like I’m repaying you by putting you at risk.”

  “We’ll all be fine. Keep breathing.” He smiled reassuringly at me, but I thought I could detect a faint strain around his eyes.

  He glanced over my shoulder and I turned to see Lily. She was wearing a black T-shirt, denim shorts, and black tights, and she had done her makeup so that she looked simultaneously very beautiful and very young. “You all right, sweetheart?”

  She nodded. Her skin, normally the slightly olive color Will’s had been, was unusually pale. Her eyes were huge in her face.

  “It’s all going to be fine. I’d be surprised if it takes longer than five minutes. Lou’s been through it all with you, yes?” Sam’s voice was calm, reassuring.

  We had rehearsed it a dozen times. I wanted her to reach a point where she wouldn’t freeze, where she could repeat her lines without thinking.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Right,” he said, and clapped his hands together. “Quarter to eight. Let’s get ready.”

  • • •


  He was punctual, I had to give him that. At one minute past eight my buzzer rang. Lily took an audible breath, I squeezed her hand, and then she answered the entry phone. Yes. Yes, she’s gone. Come up. It didn’t even seem to occur to him that she might not be what he thought.

  Lily let him in. Only I, watching through the crack in my bedroom door, could see the way her hand trembled as she reached for the lock.

  Garside ran his hand over his hair, glanced briefly around the hallway. He was wearing a good gray suit, and tucked his car keys into his inside breast pocket. I couldn’t stop staring at him, at his expensive shirt, his beady, acquisitive eyes as they scanned the flat. My jaw tightened. What kind of man felt entitled to press himself on a girl forty years younger than he was? To blackmail the child of his own colleague?

  He looked uncomfortable, far from relaxed. “I’ve parked my car out back. Will it be safe?”

  “I think so,” Lily swallowed.

  “You think so?” He took a step back toward the door. The kind of man who sees his car as an extension of some minuscule part of himself. “And what about your friend? Whoever owns this place. They’re not coming back?”

  I held my breath. Behind me I felt Sam’s steadying hand on the small of my back.

  “Oh. No. It will be fine.” She smiled, suddenly reassuring. “She won’t be back for ages. Do come in. Would you like a drink, Mr. Garside?”

  He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “So formal.” He took a step forward and finally closed the door behind him. “Do you have scotch?”

  “I’ll check. Come through.”

  She began to walk to the kitchen and Garside followed her, removing his suit jacket. As they entered the living room, Sam walked past me out of the bedroom, strode cheerfully across the hallway in his heavy boots, and locked the inside door to the flat, placing the keys, jangling, in his pocket.

  Garside, startled by the sound, turned and saw Sam, joined now by Donna. They stood there in uniform, against the door. He looked at them, then back at Lily, and faltered, trying to work out what was going on.

  “Hello, Mr. Garside,” I said, stepping out from behind the door. “I believe you have something to return to my friend here.”

  He actually broke out in a spontaneous sweat. I hadn’t known that was physically possible. He looked around for Lily, but as I had stepped out into the hall she had moved so that she was half behind me.

  Sam stepped forward. Mr. Garside’s head reached just above his shoulder. “The phone, please.”

  “You can’t threaten me.”

  “We’re not threatening you,” I said, my heart thumping. “We would just like the phone.”

  “You are threatening me just by blocking my exit.”

  “Oh, no, sir,” said Sam. “Actually threatening you would involve mentioning the fact that if my colleague and I chose to, we could pin you down right here and now and inject you with dihypranol, which would slow and then ultimately stop your heart. Now that would be a threat, especially as nobody would question the word of the paramedic crew who had apparently tried to save you. And dihypranol is one of the few drugs that leaves no trace in the bloodstream.”

  Donna, her arms crossed over her chest, shook her head, sadly. “It’s a shame, the way these middle-aged businessmen just drop like flies.”

  “All sorts of health issues. They drink too much, eat too well, don’t take enough exercise.”

  “I’m sure this gentleman here isn’t like that.”

  “You’d hope not. But who knows?”

  Mr. Garside seemed to have shrunk by several inches.

  “And don’t even think of threatening Lily. We know where you live, Mr. Garside. All paramedics have that information at hand if and when they need it. It’s amazing what can happen if you piss off a paramedic.”

  “This is outrageous.” He was blustering now, his face drained of color.

  “Yup. It really is.” I held out my hand. “The phone, please.”

  Garside glanced around him again, then finally reached into his pocket and handed it to me.

  I tossed it to Lily. “Check it, Lily.”

  I looked away out of deference to her feelings, while she did so. “Delete it,” I said. “Just delete it.” When I looked back, she had the phone, its screen blank, in her hand. She gave a faint nod. Sam motioned to her to throw it to him. He dropped it to the floor and stamped down on it with his right foot, so that the plastic splintered into pieces. He crushed it with such violence that the floor shook. I found myself flinching, along with Mr. Garside, every time Sam’s heavy boot came down.

  Finally, Sam stooped and gingerly picked up the tiny sim card from where it had skidded under the radiator. He examined it and held it up in front of the older man.

  “Was that the only copy?”

  Garside nodded. Moisture had begun to darken his collar.

  “Of course it’s the only copy,” said Donna. “A responsible member of the community wouldn’t want to take the risk of something like that turning up anywhere, would he? Imagine what Mr. Garside’s family would say if his nasty little secret got out?”

  Garside’s mouth had compressed into a thin line. “You’ve got what you wanted. Now let me leave.”

  “No. I would like to say something.” My voice, I noted distantly, shook slightly with the effort of containing my fury. “You, Mr. Garside, are a sleazy, pathetic little man and if I—”

  Mr. Garside’s mouth hooked upward in a sneer. The kind of man who had never once felt threatened by a woman. “Oh, do be quiet, you ridiculous little—”

  Something hard glittered in Sam’s eyes and he sprang forward. My arm shot out to restrain him. I don’t remember my other fist pulling back. I do remember the pain that shot through my knuckles as it made contact with the side of Garside’s face. He reeled backward, his upper body hitting the door, and I stumbled, not expecting the force of the impact. When he righted himself, I was shocked to see blood trickling from his nose.

  “Let me out,” he hissed, through his fingers. “This minute.”

  Sam blinked at me, then unlocked the door. Donna stepped away, just about allowing him through. She leaned toward him. “Are you sure you don’t want a dressing for that before you go?”

  Garside kept his pace measured as he left, but as the door clicked shut behind him, we heard the sound of his expensive shoes picking up into a run down the corridor. We stood in silence until we couldn’t hear them anymore.

  And then, the sound of several people exhaling at once.

  “Nice punch, Cassius,” said Sam. “Want me to take a look at that hand?”

  I couldn’t speak. I was doubled over, swearing silently into my chest.

  “Always hurts more than you think it will, doesn’t it?” said Donna, patting my back. “Don’t stress, sweetheart,” she turned to Lily. “Whatever he said to you, that old man is nothing. Gone.”

  “He won’t be back,” said Sam.

  Donna laughed. “He pretty much crapped himself. I think he’ll be running a mile from you from now on. Forget it, darling.” She hugged Lily briskly, as you might someone who had toppled off a bike, then handed me the pieces of the broken phone to throw away. “Right. I promised to pop round my dad’s before our shift. See you later.” And then with a wave she was gone, her boots clumping cheerfully down the corridor.

  Sam began to rummage through his medical pack to find a dressing for my hand. Lily and I walked into the living room where she sank down on the sofa.

  “You did brilliantly,” I told her.

  “You were pretty badass yourself.”

  I examined my bloodied knuckles. When I looked up, the smallest grin was playing around her lips. “He totally wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Neither was I. I’ve never hit anyone before.” I straightened my face. “Not that, you know, you should consider me any kind of moral example.”

  “I’ve never considered you any kind of example, Lou.” She
grinned almost reluctantly, as Sam came in, bearing a sterile bandage and a pair of scissors. Lily looked up at him.

  “You okay, Lily?” He raised his eyebrows.

  She nodded.

  “Good. Let’s move on to something more interesting. Who fancies spaghetti carbonara?”

  When she left the room, he turned to me and let out a long breath. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if composing himself, then turned to face me.

  “What?” I said.

  “Thank God you hit him first. I was afraid I was going to kill him.”

  • • •

  Some time later, after Lily had gone to bed, I joined Sam in the kitchen. For the first time in weeks it felt as if some sort of peace had descended over my home. “She’s happier already. I mean, she bitched about the new toothpaste and left her towels on the floor, but in Lily terms, she’s definitely better.”

  He nodded at this, and emptied the sink. It felt good having him in my kitchen. I watched him for a minute, wondering how it would feel to simply walk up and place my arms around his waist. “Thank you,” I said instead. “For everything.”

  He turned and wiped his hands on the tea towel. “You were pretty smart yourself, punchy.” He reached out a hand and pulled me to him. We kissed. There was something so delicious about his kisses; the softness of them compared to the brute strength of the rest of him. I lost myself in him for a moment. But—

  “What?” he said, pulling back. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re going to think it’s weird.”

  “Uh, more weird than this evening?”

  “I keep thinking about that dihypranol stuff. How much would it take to actually kill a person? Is this something you all carry routinely? It just sounds really dodgy.”

  “You don’t need to worry,” he said.

  “You say that. But what if someone really hated you? Could they put it in your food? Could terrorists get hold of it? I mean, how much would they actually need?”

  “Lou. There’s no such drug.”

  “What?”

  “I made it up. There’s no such thing as dihypranol. Totally invented.”

  He grinned at my shocked face. “Funnily enough, I don’t think I’ve ever had a drug that worked better.”

  22

  I was the last one to arrive at the Moving On Circle. My car wouldn’t start again and I’d had to wait for the bus. When I got there the biscuit tin was just closing, a signal that the real business of the evening was about to begin.

  “Today we’re going to talk about faith in the future,” Marc said. I muttered