by G. Brailey
“In what way?”
“I don’t know if I should say.”
“I’m giving you permission to say.”
“Okay, well… there’s only one word that comes anywhere near… and that’s paranoia.”
“Still… I mean I know I was, but lately?”
“Even more so, and the look on your face when you were fighting with Sam Stein…”
“Yes, that was unfortunate…”
“For him it was, certainly.”
“By the way, I think I can redeem myself with the Wahlbergs,” said Zack, rather embarrassed by Rose’s searching look, “I know the whole office is waiting for me to mess up again, well, I know Sam is, the swot… doing extra homework for the fun of it while I’m on detention struggling with a hundred lines.”
Rose obliged by offering a distant smile but he could tell she was worried and he also knew that anything he shared with Rose would not be repeated, so he made the decision to speak up.
“Can I burden you with all this?” he said suddenly, “with everything that’s been going on.”
“If it helps, of course you can…”
“It’s weird stuff, Rose.”
“Try me.”
All the time Zack was filling Rose in he was questioning his motives for doing so. Whatever the reasoning, Rose listened attentively as he told her everything, from the regression and the suicide to Russell’s death, Susan’s allegation included and it was clear from her reaction that she had not imagined anything quite as complex or as bizarre.
“So there you have it, the life and times of Zack Fortune.”
Right on cue their starters turned up for which they were grateful as it gave them a little bit of breathing space. They ate in silence for a while, Zack hoping that he hadn’t shot himself in the foot, prompting Rose to think about going off and being magnificent elsewhere.
“I think you need to see someone,” said Rose, casually.
“You think I’m mad?”
“No I don’t think that, but clearly something is wrong. The deaths might be symbolic, like waking dreams for instance. It’s not my area of expertise, obviously, but I’m sure it’s someone’s.”
“But the deaths have stopped,” said Zack.
“And what if they’re on hold?” she said, surprising Zack by voicing his deepest fear. “And as for the other stuff, well… for my money I think you should speak with Geoff straight away.”
“He’ll sack me, Rose.”
“Why should he? You haven’t been convicted of anything but you do need to tell him what’s been going on.”
Zack knew Rose was right, she always was, and if he didn’t intend taking her advice why ask for it? But with each new day that dawned Zack was still hoping that Tracy would work her magic and say that the CPS had come to the conclusion that with both Susan and Russell there was no case to answer. If he had waited this long without owning up to Geoff, surely he could wait a little longer?
Veronica had intended spending the evening with friends but it didn’t turn out that way. It was nine o’clock as Veronica’s Saab turned into a dull suburban cul-de-sac in Cricklewood and parked up. Veronica found number 29 easily enough and knocked. A light switched on in the hall and a blurred figure approached on the other side of the tacky glass door. When the door swung open she recognized the woman straight away.
“It’s you,” she said, “I thought it might be.”
“Come on in,” said Barbara Quinn and stood back.
“You don’t live down here do you?” said Veronica, stepping into the hall.
“No, this is my sister’s house, but she’s away at the moment so I get roped in to look after the cats. I have to bring my own two down with me so it’s a bit of a nuisance to be honest, but a change of scene now and then is no bad thing.” They were in the front room now, Barbara indicating a chair. “Do sit down Veronica can I get you a drink or something?”
“No thanks, I’m fine.”
The room was a throwback to the sixties, brown and orange décor, a frayed Parker Knoll suite on which the cats had been sharpening their claws, and a bulbous ugly sideboard, its top cluttered with cheap silver plated trays, Babysham glasses and soda siphons.
The room had a strange atmosphere Veronica decided, as though it had been waiting a long time for real people to come and live in it. Barbara sat opposite Veronica and smiled, she was wearing exactly the same tartan kilt and the same blue hand knitted cardigan that Veronica remembered her wearing at the Baptist chapel in Renfield. Her white hair was swept away from her face and tied up in a neat bun, her clear blue eyes twinkled behind bifocals.
“I knew Russell quite well,” said Barbara suddenly, “in fact we were sweethearts years ago.”
“I was so sorry about what happened,” said Veronica, picking up on the prompt.
“Yes, it was all quite a shock and there are moments when I don’t quite know what I shall do without him.”
Was that why this woman had asked her here thought Veronica? Did she want an apology for Russell’s death?
“Why did you come to the meeting in Renfield, may I ask?”
“A friend of mine died last year in tragic circumstances, I wanted to make contact I suppose.”
“You’re a believer?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Opened minded, that’s all…”
“And your friend, Mr Fortune?”
“Oh no, not his scene at all.”
“Isn’t fate strange,” said Barbara, after a hesitation.
“Yes isn’t it,” said Veronica, knowing exactly what she meant.
“Look, I’ll come straight to the point, Russell was very gifted you know, he made so many predictions and every one of them came true…” Although not his own death Veronica wanted to say, but out of politeness, refrained. “Russell said something to me that night which I feel compelled to tell you.”
“And that is?”
“You must have nothing more to do with Zack Fortune, it’s not safe.”
Veronica was staring across at Barbara, reflection from the ceiling light shone in her glasses now making her look as though she had no eyes at all.
“Russell said there was no point in telling you this because he believed no one can cheat death as death is preordained, but I’ve never been convinced by the theory.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you don’t heed this warning your death will be very soon my dear, I’m so sorry.”
“This is your idea of revenge, I suppose,” said Veronica, sounding rather ratty.
“No, not a bit of it, I could have kept all this to myself but I decided you needed to know, what you do with this information now is up to you.”
“Russell was scared of Zack, why was that?”
“He’d broken the rules.”
“What rules?”
“The rules of living and dying, there’s a protocol you see.”
“So what happens if you remember a past life, or an aspect of it?”
“Nothing at all, it’s harmless, but remembering a death is something else.”
“Is that what happened? Is that what this is all about?”
“That’s why Russell didn’t want him anywhere near, he’d brought something back.”
“You get off on this do you… churning out this garbage, putting the fear of God into people? What had he brought back?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“No, because he had nothing to say, he was just on some idiotic power trip.”
“Veronica, there is one way out of this…”
“I could no more leave the man than swim the English Channel. He’s everything to me, he’s my future.”
“No he is not, Veronica,” said Barbara, patiently, “he is actually anything but, because if you remain together neither of you will have a future.”
“We’re both going to die is that it?” she said, stunned to hear herself asking this stupid question.
“Unfortunately, y
es you are.”
“What else did he say?” snapped Veronica, still curious, despite everything.
“Nothing else, he just professed great sadness that someone as lovely as you should die so young.”
“I want to leave now, please don’t make contact with me again.”
Veronica stood up, dived out of the room and struggling to open the front door which had sweated in its frame, she burst out of the house and hurried along the path.
“I’m sorry,” Barbara shouted after her from the step, “I’m so sorry.”
Veronica did not turn back she just threw herself into the Saab, rammed her key into the ignition, switched on the engine and floored it, the car skidding into a squealing swerve in response. An hour later she realised she was in Hertfordshire of all places, somewhere she had never been before in her life.
Zack and Rose enjoyed their time together in Trench Town, the main course when they eventually got it was good, and the atmosphere convivial and laid back. Zack dropped Rose home promising to consider all her very worthwhile advice. He wanted to see Veronica but for some reason she wasn’t picking up. Getting her own back he thought as he kicked his heels back at his flat. He decided he was very lucky to have such a bevy of great women in his life, Veronica, Rose, Tracy and Clarissa. The only one he could do without was Susan.
Zack was beginning to wonder if a serious conversation would get her to drop the allegations. Zack felt it was probably as much a millstone to Susan herself now having to keep up the pretence, and maybe she too would like to be shot of it. He rummaged under his bed and pulled out The Collected Works of John Keats, a book that Susan had insisted on reading to him every time he had gone round there, particularly after sex. It had driven him mad in the end and so one day he’d taken it without her noticing, maybe he could return it now as a peace offering.
As Zack drove off in the direction of Stoke Newington he conceded that meeting up with Susan was a bit like betting the house, great if it paid off and you could buy a mansion with the proceeds but disastrous if it didn’t because you’d be homeless and out on the street. When Zack had mooted the idea to Tracy a week or so ago she had shouted him down, insisting Zack did not go anywhere near Susan Wilmot, but Zack hadn’t got where he was today towing the line, so he decided on balance it was worth the risk.
On the corner of Susan’s road, outside the kebab shop, Zack sat in his car a while, watching. He saw her move back and forth across the window once or twice. He recognized that funny little walk more than anything, the way she held her head on one side. She was alone it looked like. Nothing unusual there, Susan was always alone. Even the nutcase downstairs whose flat was stuffed from floor to ceiling with plastic carrier bags wanted nothing to do with her.
Zack parked up further along Susan’s street, walked back to her house and at the front door hit the familiar top bell. He could sense the surprise the sound of it had set off in Susan’s head and the very limited set of possibilities she was considering, the main one being that it was a mistake.
“Yes?” she said, part hopeful, part defeated, “who is this?”
“Susan, it’s Zack.”
He heard her absorb the shock and her subsequent hesitation, then without saying anything else she buzzed him up.
Zack had a brief speech prepared but he waited for a while as Susan took an old bottle of wine from the fridge and rinsed a couple of glasses at the sink.
“How are you?” he said.
“I’m okay,” she replied.
The wine was undrinkable but Zack took a couple of sips to show willing. He perched on the edge of her old chair that was so uninviting with its fierce springs digging out, and its stained fabric. As usual, Susan sat cross legged on the bed.
“I knew you’d taken it,” she said, nodding towards the book. “Why did you do that, by the way? It’s not a first edition or something is it?”
Zack smiled. The idea of making a couple of bob from Susan who had nothing at all was abhorrent, but then… maybe he had asked for it.
“Look Susan, I behaved very badly. I have serious problems with women and you got caught in the crossfire. I made a mistake. I thought we could have a good time for a while and then move on, but I didn’t consider you or your feelings and I regret that. It was totally selfish, and if it’s any consolation I am very much ashamed of my behaviour.”
For a moment, Susan thought something good might be lurking somewhere in Zack’s soliloquy but in the end, as with life in general, Susan was disappointed.
“However, I didn’t rape you,” he continued, “we both know this, and in order for us to continue as friends, maybe… we need to sort this out.”
“You want us to be friends?” she said with a little laugh, “goodness, how funny you are.”
“What I’m getting at,” said Zack, persevering, and aware that this was not going well, “is that this way we’re arch enemies, but when you drop the rape allegation, who knows…” he said with a generous shrug.
“Gosh,” she said, “yes, I see… what an opportunity!”
Zack stood up feeling extremely foolish, aware suddenly that their roles had been reversed. How could he have got this so wrong?
“I need a bit of water with this, I’m driving,” said Zack, crossing over to the kitchen area where he opened up the fridge and looked inside.
“You get water from the tap,” she said coming up behind him and slamming the fridge door shut. Zack threw her a smile which told her that he knew what she had been up to, then dropping the pretence, he moved back across the room and this time sat awkwardly on a hard backed chair standing against the wall.
“We could pop out for a drink, maybe,” said Zack, clearly unenthused at the prospect.
“I’m not withdrawing the allegation,” said Susan, “and you know you shouldn’t be here. When I tell the cops, you’ll be in big trouble.”
“Don’t you want an end to this?”
“There will be an end to it when you’re in nick.”
“It’s impossible to prove, you know that don’t you?”
“It’s impossible not to prove too.”
Zack gazed across at her and wondered if his assessment of Susan had been wrong. Perhaps it was all just an act, her childlike understanding, her Alice in Wonderland lack of guile.
“In the end it’s down to who is the most believable on the day,” she said, “and I can be very believable. A girl on the wrong side of the tracks with barely enough money to charge the electric key each week, swept off her feet by a handsome city animal, ruthless, and power mad. Whose side would you be on?”
“Have you done this before?” said Zack, holding Susan’s gaze. “You have, haven’t you? How many times have you got away with this?”
Susan just sat there emitting the most overwhelming sadness and despite everything, Zack could not find it in his heart to drive the point home. Instead, he stood up and left. Outside in the street as he headed back to his car Susan yelled at him from her open window.
“You wait… you’ve had it now, Zack Fortune! Just you wait.”
“Tracy,” said Zack, “this is Jason.”
It was 9 o’clock the following morning and they were all standing in Tracy’s office, a noticeable awkwardness between them.
“Sit down, please,” she said, moving round her desk and sinking into her squeaky, spinning chair. “The hearing has been postponed by the way, they came back to me last night.”
Jason shrugged, he could not have looked more indifferent.
“But we’ll have a chat, and go through all this.”
“So I’ll leave you to it then shall I? Thanks Tracy,” Zack was on his feet again and Jason was too. “No, you stay here, mate.”
“I don’t want to stay here, not without you.”
“Okay,” said Zack patiently, “we have been through this I don’t know how many times. I can’t represent you, but Tracy here can. Now, it’s up to you whether you take my recommendation, you could approach any nu
mber of solicitors who do legal aid…”
“I don’t want anyone else, I want you.”
“But you can’t have me, mate, can you?”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not allowed, I am not an option, but Tracy here is.”
Tracy found herself contemplating Zack, intensely curious. Where had this patience come from, and this compassion? Had she been asked, she would have said that Zack Fortune would not have passed the time of day with someone like Jason Heart, or even acknowledged his existence, yet here he was surprising her with all this, and here she was being drawn to him again… something she really could have done without.
“Look, Jason,” said Tracy, jumping in and trying to help, “Zack has done his bit and now it’s up to us. If after our conversation you don’t like the advice I give you, you can go elsewhere, you are under no obligation to instruct me but you do need some advice, and soon. This is a serious charge, so let’s see what we can come up with, what do you say?”
What Jason wanted to say was that he hated the way she eyeballed him over her brown owl glasses that made her look a hundred years old, and like he had just crept out from a sewer. He wanted to say that all women stank, Ms Tracy Bright included, because even Kelly had dumped on him in the end, but Jason didn’t want to piss Zack off so he said none of these things. “All right,” he said instead, as though agreeing to face the firing squad.
“Are you coming back again,” said Jason, “what time? Shall I meet you somewhere?”
“No mate, I’ve got to go to work and I’m late already, but Tracy will keep me in the loop.”
“What loop?” said Jason, knowing full well what he meant but desperate to delay his leaving.
“You’ll be okay, trust me,” said Zack, patting him on the back.
Jason flinched at Zack’s touch, an automatic flash of fear in his eyes and the clearest indictment yet of Jason’s short life. Zack pretended he hadn’t noticed but he had and he found it instantly depressing.
“Can I get you a drink, Jason, a juice or something,” said Tracy, once Zack had gone.
“I’m not a kid, I don’t drink juice,” said Jason, shrinking back into his hood.