Keep Your Friends Close

by June Taylor

  Louie took it out and examined the blade.

  The car pulled away again.

  39

  Karin

  ‘Right. I need everyone to pull their weight today and work as a team,’ said Karin. It was the morning of the launch and she had gathered everyone together to run through a few final things. ‘Remember we’re under scrutiny from the press and TV cameras, so we absolutely have to get this right.’

  Morale had taken a knock this week with the news of Will. Not least her own. But Karin had managed to turn this into a positive, by encouraging everyone to work hard for Will’s sake. ‘Today has to be perfect,’ she added, concluding her team talk. ‘We’re doing this for Will.’

  So far the police had not been back asking any more questions. As far as she knew, they still thought his death was accidental. By misadventure. Nevertheless, it still felt like a torrent of water was only moments away from rampaging through her life, sweeping everything along with it.

  It was simply a matter of time.

  Certainly all the pressures of the launch had helped take her mind off other matters. The last thing Karin wanted was for anything to kick off, either in the run-up, or on the day itself, and she was relieved that both Mel and Aaron were respecting her wishes to deal with these other matters once today was over.

  Aaron was now aware of the situation with Louie. Or rather, he knew as much as Karin dared tell him. He found her yesterday morning, head in hands, slumped over the side of the bath and it just didn’t seem fair to keep him in the dark any longer. So Aaron knew that Louie had blackmailed Karin out of her mother’s money, even if he didn’t fully understand why. Karin just told him that the reason for not mentioning it sooner was out of embarrassment for having allowed it to happen in the first place. In turn, this had led to the lie about her mother withdrawing the payment altogether, for which she apologized. Aaron was furious, naturally, and wanted to take action immediately. But Karin had made him promise not to do anything until they could both sit down and work out a plan together. She never even mentioned the connection with Will’s death, and that Louie possibly had something to with that.

  Karin just wished this would all go away quietly. But it wasn’t going to.

  Her only hope was that Louie would see sense quickly and they could reach some kind of compromise. What Karin hadn’t yet worked out was how much more to reveal to Aaron about why Louie had the power to blackmail her to begin with. Rather ironically, although she had no intention of telling him, Karin now felt that Aaron could possibly forgive her for what she did to her stepdad, as long as she explained absolutely everything to him. Whereas having sex with Louie in the toilets just before he proposed to her was still something he would never be able to deal with. Karin didn’t doubt for a minute that Louie would use the latter to her advantage if pushed.

  She still wasn’t convinced that Louie would be vindictive enough to send her to prison. After all, what would that achieve? Besides, Louie could be done for blackmail herself presumably. Mel had kept hold of those earlier intimidation notes. And then there was Will’s death too. At the same time, Karin did wonder how things could conceivably work out with both her secrets and her relationship with Aaron intact. They were supposed to be getting married. Sometimes she had to remind herself of that.

  For now, though, she had to concentrate on the launch. None of these other matters could occupy her mind today.

  ‘The BBC are coming. We’ll make the evening news,’ said the site manager, flying at her as she came out of Will’s room.

  ‘It’s just the local news,’ she replied. ‘Don’t get too excited, Ron.’

  ‘Nope, it’s the national! The Government’s supposedly rolling out some half-baked initiatives to try and tackle this problem. We’re in the spotlight and so are they.’

  It was only after celebrating this incredible news with him that Karin considered its implications. This was as high-profile as it could get, which meant that even her mother might see it.

  She began to reflect on the person she used to be:

  Karin the useless daughter

  Karin the hopeless student

  Karin the basket case

  Karin the suicide victim

  Today simply had to go well. Not only for her sake, but for the sakes of all the people on the scheme, and many more besides who would benefit if this one was deemed a success. She didn’t think for a minute that anyone would jeopardize things from within the project. Even if some still needed help to adjust, everyone had put their heart and soul into it. There had however been a few murmurings in the local and wider community, the minority voice claiming this was nothing more than a glorified hostel or halfway house.

  In the end, trouble came in another form which Karin hadn’t expected.

  It was the same two police officers as before. They were shown into the site office flashing their ID, addressing her as Miss Rhodes, wanting to ask her a few more questions about Will.

  ‘We’ve spoken again to … your housemate …’ The police officer stopped to consult her notebook. ‘Melanie Pritchard.’

  Karin felt her body freeze. ‘Okay. Yes, Mel.’

  ‘We’ve found some items of jewellery near to the scene of the incident. We wondered if you’d ever had any go missing, Miss Rhodes?’

  Karin tried to swallow. Anything she said could potentially contradict what Mel had already told them. They were waiting for her answer, weighing up every second’s delay. It was like being on some quiz show against the clock where the answers had to completely match.

  But Mel was a loyal friend. She had tried to ‘cover Karin’s arse’. Her words. So she felt sure of her answer.

  ‘Erm no. We trusted Will, totally. Like I told you, he and I were good friends.’

  Apart from anything else, Karin really couldn’t bear the idea of anyone thinking Will was a thief, and especially not today. He was dead. The least she could do now was defend his honour. A flash of inspiration suddenly came to her. Another lie, but what difference would one more make?

  ‘He did say once that he had a few bits of his mother’s jewellery. She died. I never saw it or anything but that’s possibly what you found.’

  Her answer seemed to satisfy them but they weren’t ready to leave just yet.

  ‘Would you mind showing us round, Miss Rhodes?’

  Karin had to disguise her unwillingness. She began with Will’s room, in the hope this might be enough and then they would go.

  ‘We’re still calling it “Will’s Room”,’ she explained as they walked down the hallway to the last door on this level. ‘For the time being anyway. There’s nothing of Will’s in here though. He didn’t actually move in. Just decorated it, ready for when he did.’ As she turned the handle, she wondered whether to warn them about the colour scheme they were about to encounter, but stopped herself.

  It still smelt of paint.

  ‘Gosh,’ said the female officer as she stepped into the room.

  Royal blue with flame red woodwork.

  ‘Will always said that he liked to hear colours,’ Karin found herself explaining. ‘To make up for not hearing sounds.’ The memory of Will’s eagerness to show her the finished result came flooding back. It just made her sad whenever she came in here now, especially as she knew that the next occupant would probably find it too noisy and stressful and want to change it.

  Karin sniffed, wiping away a tear.

  ‘Was there anyone who might have wanted this room, enough to want Will out of the way, do you think?’

  ‘Erm. I wouldn’t think so. It doesn’t really work like that. People have to earn their place, work hard, train up to get the necessary skills.’

  They wanted to see the garden after that. Karin had foolishly pointed out the commemorative bench they had been able to see from the window.

  ‘A couple of the other project workers made it,’ she informed them. ‘This was Will’s favourite tree, and we’re going to have a plaque too.’ The bench wrapped aro
und the trunk of an ancient oak at the bottom of the garden. For now, it just had R.I.P. WILL carved into the bark.

  Although it was a relief when they said they were going, Karin felt their visit was rather cursory. Insulting to think they were only paying lip service to investigating Will’s death. In the scheme of things, his life didn’t really matter. A deaf homeless man. Will was only too aware of that himself.

  Karin stood in the porch and watched them go. In her mind she was running after them, shouting, as they climbed into the police car: I have more information for you. Wait!

  Will deserved so much better than this. From Karin. From everyone.

  But she waited until they had disappeared down Ashby Road and then returned to his room. On her way there, people were coming at her from all angles trying to speak to her. She told them she needed a moment on her own.

  Sitting on Will’s bed she felt the emptiness and loss all the more. She pictured him at his desk, his head in one of those Russian novels, stroking his beard. She must have stayed like this for at least a quarter of an hour, in quiet contemplation. It was the hideous colour scheme which revived her in the end, and becoming aware of it again made her laugh out loud. ‘What the hell were you thinking, Will?’ she said, getting up off the bed.

  She had to get back. There were things to be done, to oversee. People were relying on her. As she was about to open the door she noticed there was a missed call from Mel on her phone, so she listened to her voicemail before going out.

  ‘Karin. Just had those two sniffer dogs back asking about Will. They’ve found some jewellery and were asking if we’d ever had anything go missing. I said we hadn’t. Hope that was what you’d want me to say. Am guessing the sniffer dogs will probably be on their way over to you now. I wanted to warn you, so hope you listen to this before they get there. Hope it goes really well today. So sorry I’m working but I will look out for you on the TV. Bye for now.’

  Karin kissed her phone and went back out again.

  40

  Louie

  The news had just finished when the knock came. The item on the city of Leeds leading the way in tackling solutions to the homelessness problem had caught Louie’s attention. When she heard the Ashby Road Housing Project in Headingley being mentioned, she looked up from the painting that she was working on and increased the volume. There was Karin, wearing her bottle green dress, instantly recognizable. It was the one she had worn for Louie’s art show, which she was most flattered by because it showed Karin had regarded that as a special occasion.

  Some local celebrity was ceremoniously cutting through the ribbon strung across the doorway, having to catch it first as it dodged his oversized scissors in the flickering breeze. Louie thought she must have walked through that doorway herself, the day she volunteered there. When she was helping Karin out – in more ways than she actually realized.

  A round of applause erupted as the camera pulled back to the presenter. Standing next to her was Karin. ‘You must be absolutely delighted today,’ the presenter said, indicating behind them, as if to say with all of this.

  Karin waited for the microphone to arrive under her chin. ‘Totally. Yes. I’m just so thrilled we can offer so many people new homes and new skills with this project. We need lots more schemes like this though. Not just in Leeds, but countrywide.’

  Hearing her speak so confidently and with such passion gave Louie a sense of pride. ‘Go tell ’em, girl,’ she shouted at the TV.

  Karin was still speaking: ‘At the moment these initiatives are just too small and too few, and this really has to be the way forwards. I’m sick of tripping over people sleeping rough on our streets. I think we all are. Leeds has realized it has to clean up its act. And I don’t mean by bulldozing these people out of the way. When will we wake up to the fact that homeless does not mean helpless? These people are in this position for all sorts of reasons, young or old, from all walks of life, and with a bit of assistance they can help themselves. I implore all councils in this country, and our Government, to get properly on board with this. Give solid incentives to landlords and the private sector to turn these empty spaces into affordable, habitable homes. It needs proper funding.’

  ‘You used to live on the streets yourself, didn’t you, Karin?’

  The question made Louie anxious. Would she really want to be labelled that way? But Karin responded as confidently as before.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ she said. ‘It’s tough and degrading. Dangerous too.’

  ‘Especially for a woman,’ the presenter cut in.

  ‘Well yes. Luckily I made a very good friend who always looked out for me. And then, also, I was fortunate enough to be helped by someone who actually took me off the streets. Helped me get back on my feet. She wouldn’t want to be named but she knows who she is.’

  She meant Louie. Of course she meant Louie. It made her shed a tear, and Louie never cried. She was so overcome with emotion she had to text Karin immediately to say how proud she was of her.

  The reporter was about to ask another question, but Karin grabbed the microphone, saying: ‘I just want to ask this.’ She had that spark in her eye and was pointing her finger at the camera. Karin was so sexy all fired up like that. ‘Why are there a million people in this country – and that figure is rising by the way – using food banks, when we are still the fifth or sixth largest economy in the world?’

  ‘Okay,’ said the presenter, making sure she got the microphone back this time. ‘You certainly have a lot to say on the subject. Maybe the Government ought to take notice of this young woman. The voice of a generation perhaps.’

  There was another round of applause. Then the mood shifted.

  ‘But tell me, Karin. You were good friends with Will Langham, I believe. The homeless man who died in tragic circumstances, drowned in the River Aire about a week ago. He would have been living here now, wouldn’t he, having worked very hard on this project. Is that right?’

  Louie could see the dread in her eyes. She obviously hadn’t been expecting to be asked this question and therefore wasn’t prepared for it. When she became too emotional, the presenter took her by the arm, the camera following them down the garden to a bench dedicated to Will Langham.

  The knock on the door had startled Louie, even though she was half-expecting it, having been on the alert for days now. When the banging grew more insistent she turned the TV off, firing out a series of energizing breaths – a reminder that she was ready for this. Louie felt underneath her T-shirt for the knife, still in its horizontal sheath attached to her belt. She practised drawing it quickly a few times then put it back.

  It was necessary to pick her way carefully across the room, walking round the easel, avoiding the propped-up canvases leaning against any available wall space. On reaching the door, she put her ear to it, listening out for any warning sounds. In case he was trying to shove a firework through her letterbox, or gas, or petrol.

  Another knock.

  Keep him waiting a bit longer. Let him get angrier.

  She waited until his knuckles turned into a fist and he was braying at the door. Her hand hesitated over the handle.

  One, two, three.

  ‘Aaron,’ she said as he tumbled into the room. ‘Shouldn’t you be in Leeds? I just saw your fiancée on the TV. Couldn’t you be bothered or something?’

  He grabbed the neck of Louie’s T-shirt and thrust her against the wall. ‘Listen you thieving little bitch, you pay that money back into Karin’s account because I am not leaving until you do.’

  ‘Well that could be a long wait then.’ Louie was finding it difficult to speak as the neckline of her T-shirt cut into her windpipe. She could smell alcohol on his breath. ‘Would you like some tea?’ she sputtered, surprised when he let go of her, tossing her backwards.

  Rubbing the soreness out of her neck, she tried to pre-empt his next move. It was sudden when it came. He lashed out at a chair with his foot. The leg came off and then it toppled over. Louie touched her belt thro
ugh her T-shirt for reassurance, feeling the bulge of the knife in its sheath. She didn’t want to draw attention to it though, and pretended she was adjusting her T-shirt, pulling it down over her thighs.

  Aaron wiped the sweat from his top lip. His other finger was raised, hovering in that position, until he shouted: ‘Put that money back into her account. It belongs to Karin, not you.’

  ‘Oh. Is that why you’re marrying her?’ Louie put her hands up to protect herself as Aaron came towards her again, but then realized he was looking for something else to break, not her. Not yet. Deciding upon another chair, he smashed that to pieces too, afterwards standing with his legs apart, hands on hips, demonstrating the hierarchy in their strength. It seemed like he had had quite a lot to drink and Louie wondered how he had got himself over from Leeds.

  Her hand was poised, ready to whip underneath her T-shirt. She had practised the move many times.

  ‘To think I went out of my way for you, as well,’ he said, wiping his lip again. ‘I could have opened doors for you in the art world. It could have been the making of you. Too bad.’

  ‘Well I did consider it, I must admit. But I can open my own doors, thank you. Got some good contacts from that exhibition in Leeds, as well as quite a few sales. So how do you like your painting, the one I gave you? Meet Me at the Edge. Did Karin tell you the story about it? I saved her life, you know.’

  Aaron kicked out at the easel. The canvas she was currently working on wobbled but didn’t fall. Louie had no intention of stopping and continued to bait him. ‘Do you even love her? Or just love having her draped over your arm? Old boy like you, it must give you such a confidence boost. I’m guessing her money helps too, of course.’

  There was no room to manoeuvre in this tiny bedsit, and even less now with all the broken wood strewn everywhere, but she began to circle him as best she could, stepping over the debris in her way.