by Alison Bond
‘You okay?’ she said. ‘You look really miserable.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Yeah, sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.’
‘Yeah.’ He knew he was being a twat but somehow he just couldn’t help it. Layla had come all this way and yet he couldn’t stop being annoyed that she was seeing him like this, vulnerable and sort of broken, annoyed with her, which was unfair but yet equally unstoppable. ‘How’s Daniel?’ he said. Daniel the Dick.
She shrugged. ‘I dunno.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘We sort of split up.’
‘You sort of did?’
‘We did, yeah.’
‘Why’s that then? I thought you were crazy about him?’
She gave him an odd little sideways look, not quite sure why he was being so aggressive, but willing to give him leeway because of the circumstances. ‘He couldn’t really deal with all the newspaper stuff, you know, about me and you. Some of his mates were giving him grief.’
‘And he split up with you because of that?’ He felt guilty and delighted at the same time. When his thoughts strayed to Layla late at night as they inevitably did, he wouldn’t have to picture her kissing someone else.
‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘I thought he was being a bit stupid so we argued and, well, that was that.’
‘That’s a shame,’ he said, and he didn’t mean it and he didn’t care if he sounded like he meant it either. She could tell.
She perched on the chair beside his bed, like she was visiting him in hospital. He was embarrassed, he couldn’t think of anything to say, but she chattered on as if this wasn’t awkward for her. Which went to show how stupid he was for having all kinds of romantic thoughts about her. His spirits sank deeper into the moody funk that just wanted her to leave.
‘Guess what?’ she said. ‘An agent called me yesterday, asking if I had representation.’
‘For what?’
‘For, you know, celebrity stuff.’
‘Huh?’
‘They think we’re together,’ she said. ‘You and me. I’m, like, a WAG or something. Isn’t that stupid?’
‘Did you tell them the truth?’
‘I don’t think they’d believe me. Besides, it all depends what happens, doesn’t it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘With your knee and that,’ she said. ‘It depends if you play or whatever.’
He stared out of his bedroom window again, at the shit-grey building opposite and the fucking ugly tree and thought how utterly incompatible this scenario was with his daydreams of seeing her again.
In his daydreams it was post-match, post-victory and she was all dressed up ready to celebrate and he was fresh from the shower and glowing with triumph. Instead he was sitting up in bed like an old man. ‘Oh hey, I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘if my totally random injury is going to mess with your showbiz career. How inconsiderate of me.’
‘Joe,’ she said, her warm smile faltering and her eyes drifting down to the floor. ‘Don’t.’
‘No, no,’ he said wildly. ‘Here was me just being selfish, didn’t realize that my fake girlfriend would be inconvenienced by my pain.’
She shook her head and gave him the nearest thing to a dirty look a sweet girl like her could muster. ‘You think it’s been fun for me?’ she said. ‘Being followed around by reporters these last few weeks?’
‘I do actually. I think you’ve probably loved every minute of it.’
‘Then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did,’ she said.
‘Obviously not.’
Her pink marshmallow cheeks were fast turning cherry red. Her eyes flashed with something and he couldn’t tell if it was tears or rage. He was longing to sweep her up in his arms and apologize and cover her in kisses, but he couldn’t even stand up, could he? And, besides, inside he was churning with all kinds of mixed-up emotions, feeling injured and injurious, proud and terribly angry. He wanted her to leave, but he wanted her to crawl under the covers and soothe his throbbing knee with her leather-gloved hands.
‘You’re acting like a knob, Joe. I came a long way because I care about you, but if you don’t want me here then I should go.’ She paused, waiting for him to say something but he didn’t. A single hot tear plopped onto her lovely cheek. ‘So yeah, I get it. I think I’ll go. Good luck with the knee and everything.’
She stood up to leave. Her hands plunged into the small rucksack she was carrying and brought out a giant Toblerone.
‘Here,’ she said, ‘I brought you a present.’ She threw it at him and it landed squarely on his knee, his bad knee.
He screamed out in agony.
A red bubble of pain exploded, blocking out his peripheral vision and sending tremors from his battered knee to his toes and his thigh.
Layla’s hand flew to her mouth, mortified. ‘Oh shit, oh, Joe, I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid.’
He fought back the wave of nausea and the feeling like he was going to pass out. He closed his eyes tightly and didn’t breathe for a few seconds.
‘Joe? Are you okay?’
He nodded, not yet trusting himself to open his eyes or to speak. Gradually (and it felt like ages) the pain subsided until there was nothing left.
‘Joe?’
He could smell oranges. He opened his eyes and her face was right in front of his.
He kissed her.
Her lips were warm and sugary and he forgot all about his knee, and the seventeen days and four hours, and the view from his bedroom window.
And then a miracle occurred.
Layla Petherick was kissing him back.
33
Samantha hadn’t said anything for several seconds. Aleksandr Lubin was looking at her with an expression somewhere between curiosity and amusement.
Liam?
‘Sam,’ he said, ‘is everything okay?’
‘I need …’ Her vision misted. ‘I just need a minute, okay?’ She grabbed the edge of the hotel bar. The waitress behind it sensed the private moment and moved swiftly away. Samantha could hear the blood coursing in her temples and wondered why. Of course it could not possibly be Liam.
Liam?
It was ludicrous. Liam was the only person she would trust with her life. It had been that way for as long as she could remember: the Sharp siblings against the world. Even from behind bars Liam had been there for her. It made no sense, no sense at all. What did he stand to gain from her downfall? Unless perhaps the downfall itself was enough.
‘There’s no way,’ she said. ‘There’s just absolutely no way it could be Liam.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Liam? He’s my brother.’
‘You have a brother? You never mentioned him. You are not close?’
She laughed, almost hysterically. ‘I love him,’ she said. ‘He loves me. We’re close.’
Lubin took her hand. The gesture felt horribly intimate. Stupid considering what they had done together these last few months, but still she snatched her hand away.
‘Then I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This must be very painful.’
‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘You’ve made a mistake. I would stake my entire reputation on it.’
What little reputation she had managed to claw back, that is. She was still a long way from where she once had been.
‘There is no mistake,’ he said. ‘The man I asked for the information does deals for my family risking hundreds of millions. When he tells you something you can be assured of his accuracy. He does not make errors.’
‘This time he has. He must have.’
She had been at the very edge of ruin. It was impossible to conceive that Liam would take her there. He only ever wanted good things for her. He was proud of her. But …
But nothing.
Wasn’t he jealous of her too? Hadn’t he admitted as much one cold Primrose Hill night? He had said that he would like to see her fail. Just once. Hadn’t he? And the look on his face that n
ight. It chilled her soul to remember it. He looked as if he hated her. He had looked at her once like that before, years ago, when she had continually refused to get him an interview at the hotel in Seven Dials, condemning him to remain in the job that would ultimately ruin his life.
Was it possible that he blamed her? Anything is possible.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘This is absurd. For one thing, he has no money, and I mean no money. He couldn’t get his hands on three hundred pounds let alone three hundred thousand dollars.’
Lubin nodded. ‘My associate tells me that the money was funnelled through a bonds and securities company.’
Wasn’t that the same thing that the private detective had told her? Slowly but surely painful pinpricks of logic and doubt began to creep into her staunch defence. ‘I know,’ she whispered.
‘So it is possible that he borrowed the money?’
‘He would never be stupid enough to borrow such an amount without any way of paying it back. Besides which …’
‘Besides which?’
She took a deep breath. ‘He’s been in prison,’ she said. ‘For a long time. That’s why I didn’t tell you about him. I didn’t tell anyone.’
Lubin nodded. ‘You are ashamed.’
‘That sounds terrible, putting it like that, but yes, I suppose I was. We came from nothing; I didn’t want to be known for anything other than where I was going. It’s been hard enough for me, being a woman, I didn’t need another handicap.’ She stopped and rubbed her face, tired and overwhelmed. ‘Wait, that’s not what I meant …’ She had been loyal to him, hadn’t she? She had been a devoted sister.
‘It’s okay, Samantha, really it’s okay. I understand. Families can be very complicated.’
‘So how could he set up a loan like that from behind bars?’
‘This kind of company, it is not – how can I describe it? – it is not particularly honourable. I would think that would be relatively straightforward.’
‘Nobody would lend 300K to a criminal.’
‘True perhaps, but has anyone actually seen this money? Is it real, or is it just paper money? Paper money can be bought very cheaply. You are paying for an illusion, for nothing. A criminal could find the means, or find a dishonourable company willing to extend credit.’
She could run away. Running away works. If she ran back up to her hotel room and never spoke to Aleksandr Lubin again, perhaps then he would stop talking. Every word that he said was beginning to sound more plausible, more convincing, and she could no longer refute his scenario out of hand. But she remained fixed to her seat as the case against Liam grew.
‘He is out of prison now?’ said Lubin. ‘He has been released?’
‘Just a few weeks ago.’ There had been some brief days of awkward happiness and then their big falling out. That was the big reunion she had been waiting for all these years?
‘The paper money debt would need to be settled. There would have been a fee, with interest. He would want to repay it very quickly. Has he asked you for any money?’
‘No,’ she said, grasping at the hole in the argument like a tear in a net, ‘not a penny.’ Then her eyes clouded with a memory.
‘What?’ said Lubin. ‘What is it?’
She put her hand to her mouth. ‘I bought him a house,’ she said. ‘I bought him this stupid house and we fought, and then at Christmas he told me that he wanted to put it on the market.’
‘He wants to sell it?’
She pressed her lips together and nodded. ‘As quickly as possible.’
Liam.
She threw her scalding coffee down her throat and pushed her seat back from the bar. ‘I have to go,’ she said.
There was only one way to find out the truth.
‘Where?’
‘I have to go to London. I have to see my brother.’
‘Samantha, don’t be stupid. What about the transfer window?’
‘Nothing gets signed until the window’s about to close. That’s three days away. I’ll be back in twenty-four hours. Leanne can handle the exasperating delaying tactics until then.’
‘What about Joe?’
‘You think Joe’s knee will heal more quickly if I stay in town? Do I have magical powers? Alek, I have to go, don’t you understand? I have to look my brother in the eye and ask him if he did this thing. I’ll know. As soon as he opens his mouth, I’ll know for sure.’
Lubin grabbed her arm to stop her running. ‘Slow down,’ he said. ‘Let me come with you. He could be dangerous.’
‘He’s my brother!’
‘It doesn’t matter. Sam, please. We can take the jet.’
The airfield at Farnborough was overcrowded. High winds, rain and dreadful visibility meant that they could not land for forty-five minutes, but to Samantha every minute was too long.
‘This is crazy,’ she snapped. ‘I would have got there quicker by easyJet.’
‘Try to stay calm,’ said Lubin. ‘In a few hours your name could be clear, your reputation restored.’
He was right. But there was no comfort in knowing that her brother’s guilt would confirm her own innocence. For months she had pictured the look on Jackson’s face when she confronted him with vindicating proof. But not like this. The cost was far too high. If she lost Liam then she had lost everything that ever mattered. To learn that she had lost him months ago, years ago, hurt her more than any boardroom decision ever could.
Oddly, piercing her panic was a deep longing for Jackson’s steadying influence. He would know what to do. She could sense that she was rushing headlong towards a confrontation with Liam, but was powerless to slow down.
‘Let me come to the house with you,’ said Lubin.
He wasn’t Jackson. It wasn’t his hand she wanted to hold. Lubin was exciting, excitable. And he didn’t know her well enough to be a part of this. In a moment of crisis some matters become clear. And it was clear to her that things with Lubin would soon be over.
‘I’m grateful for everything you’ve done,’ she said. ‘But I have to do this alone. If I need you I’ll call.’
‘Please, you must call me anyway. I will worry.’
‘You?’ she said. ‘I thought you never worried.’
‘Promise me?’ His voice was soft and serious. ‘Promise me you’ll call?’
She reached out for him and drew him to her for a kiss, feeling nothing, wanting Jackson even more.
‘I promise,’ she said.
*
It was raining hard and the London traffic was crawling, so after leaving a message for Liam to call her she abandoned her cab, dashed through the rain, the puddles spraying water up her ankles, and jumped on the tube, wet and troubled.
She thought of all those times she had visited Liam in prison, not too far from here. Behind their light-hearted chat had he been thinking forward to wreaking his retribution? Had he perhaps been picturing her on the other side of the table, relishing the prospect? To make her pay for all those years of freedom that she had enjoyed? His imprisonment had altered his perception of reality.
He blamed her. And perhaps she was to blame. She didn’t know any more. This morning seemed like weeks ago and the confrontation awaiting her was too immense to contemplate so she sat on the tube stubbornly fixed in the present as she whipped beneath the city streets, begging her mind to be still.
Her house was dark when she finally arrived, the low angry clouds were smothering the daylight and all the lights were turned off. She knew he wasn’t there, but she called out for him anyway.
Silence. The drone of a nearby helicopter and a flash of lightning, immediately followed by a roll of thunder. She shivered. There was nothing to do but wait.
She searched her memory for some indisputable fact, some flaw in the case against him, that would prove that Lubin’s source was mistaken. But how had he even known Liam’s name? And if it was true – then what? Would she honestly be able to hand her brother over to the police?
She found herself in the
basement office, so often her safe place in troubling times. Work had always been there for her, the most constant thing she had. She didn’t know what she was looking for exactly, but the paperwork of her life was there. Perhaps there would be some clue, some diary page or forgotten document that would disprove the case against him.
Or, worse, condemn him.
If it had been her in there, in prison, paying for a moment of madness with the best years of her life, might she have gone a little crazy too? Perhaps it was enough to unbalance him. To unbalance anyone.
She would forgive him.
No matter what.
Had there ever really been any doubt? They could talk this through; they could work it out. It would take a long time, perhaps the rest of their lives, but she would try.
She thought she heard footsteps upstairs, coming her way.
‘Liam?’ But there was nobody there.
An enormous roll of thunder seemed loud enough to shake the entire house and the lights in the office flickered. She looked up apprehensively and instinctively tried the phone line. It was dead.
Then she heard the unmistakable creak of the basement door closing.
‘Liam? Wait.’
And the sound of a key turning in the lock.
She ran up the stairs, two at a time, losing her footing in her haste to get there, but she was too late.
She was trapped.
34
Layla was right by his side, holding his hand, when the doctor told Joe the good news. Just a sprain, and a mild one too. A little bruising. By the time the swelling receded the damage was almost imperceptible.
‘Your body overcompensated to protect the muscle,’ he said. ‘It sometimes happens to professional sportsmen.’
That’s me, I’m a professional sportsman.
‘So what now?’ he asked.
‘I think the best thing to do would be to rest for a couple more days and then get you to training.’
‘At the White Stars stadium?’
‘No, I meant England training. We can monitor your progress more easily in Hertfordshire. There’s no pain?’
Joe shook his head. ‘None. You’re telling me I’ll play?’ It was more than he had dared to hope for, but then so was the affection of the girl sitting beside him and so far that seemed to be going well.