by Jan Swick
She raised her eyebrows. "Oooh, like you thought the choice would be yours. Anyway, I think if I offered you a kiss with an anchovy between my teeth, you'd jump at it."
"Nah," Matt said, and crunched into a prawn cracker. At the same time, he snapped it with his fingers, so pieces fell into his lap. So he could look down to pick them up. So he didn't have to meet her eyes because he was nervous. She saw right through the ploy.
"Look at me, Matt." He did. Almost reluctantly. "You remember what I look like naked?" He turned away, flushing red, and she laughed. Then she got all serious and said, "I invited you back to my room here, but you know I have a boyfriend. You remember that, right?"
Matt nodded. His face was all shock. "I didn't come here expecting anything! The past is the past."
"What I meant was, don't tell him about this." She took the bone she had crunched and put it between her teeth. "I will let you kiss me," she mumbled around the bone. "Once. If you can take this out of my mouth with your teeth."
"Ha ha," Matt snorted. He still looked horrified. She closed her eyes and stuck her chin out, giggling. Then gasped as she felt his lips on hers. The bone dropped out of her mouth and he pulled back just enough for it to fall away, and then he was kissing her again. And she kissed him back. His hand went to her shoulder, or just below it. Between shoulder and breast. Just where you might place a hand if you were worried what reaction you might get from an outright breast-grab. She didn't mind. She kissed him harder and felt the hand begin to slip lower. His wrist was curving the rise of her breast when he stopped.
"Sorry."
He moved away. Lisa straightened her clothing. She grinned at him. "Glad to be of service in helping you get over your bones phobia."
There was a moment's awkward silence, interrupted by Matt's ringing phone. Glad of the distraction, he rushed to where it was plugged into the wall to charge. He had stopped by a shop to buy the charger. He listened for a few seconds to whoever had called, then hung up. Not a word spoken. His look said their fun was over.
"That was my brother. The police are at the house. They've found Karen's killer."
*
When they pulled up outside the house, Lisa said, "I can wait here if you like. It's a family thing."
Matt was ready to object, then seemed to think about it. "If you don't mind."
"Of course not. I'll be here, no matter how long it takes."
She smiled to show her sincerity, but he wasn't looking. His eyes were on the windscreen, the world beyond. He seemed to be delaying his exit from the car. Nerves, she guessed. She waited. He checked his face in the rear-view mirror, and checked his phone for whatever reason. Eventually he could think of no additional distractions, and unclasped his seat belt and got out. She watched him approach the front door and knock, as if he felt like a stranger to the family home. She didn't see who answered the door because his tall frame blocked it. He went in and the door shut and she put her head back on the headrest. That was when she realised how tired she was. Her eyes started to close.
But jerked open again as the driver's door opened. A man about Matt's age climbed in and sat there as if he belonged. Long hair and a suit - always a suit, Matt had said. Danny, his brother, she realised.
"Search and rescue woman, hello," he said, but didn't look at her. He was perusing the dashboard of Matt's old Mondeo, sneering at it.
"How did you know who I was?" she said. Matt had had to tell her a whole bunch of times that he wasn't embarrassed by her, and this was because she had complained that he refused to send the family a photo of her. So how did this guy -
"No offence to old Matt, but he's not exactly a ladies' man. I think you were the first proper girlfriend he had. I figured he hadn't seen much action since the paras, either. A woman by his side two days back in London, I figure she must be the faceless search and rescue woman. I don't recall the name, sorry. Why you sat out here?"
"It's Lisa. I, er, didn't want to go in. Don't know anyone."
"Good choice. Family thing and all. Didn't know you two were still in touch."
She had to be cautious here, because she didn't know how in-the-loop the family was about what Matt had been up to since his return to London. "He said he needed information. I came down from Manchester."
He twisted at a few dashboard dials, jabbed a few buttons, then finally sat back and turned his head to face her. He flicked on the interior light and took a good look at her. She felt scrutinised.
"Matt doesn't trust anyone in the world, you know?" Danny said. "He doesn't like people. He doesn't trust humans, so he keeps them at a distance."
He was waiting for a response. She just sat there.
"He was always a bit like that, but after the army he got worse. He came back, and he was a bit distant. Not like you'd expect, all traumatised and stuff. It wasn't that. He was distant in the way you would be if you were at work and around people you didn't like."
He was again awaiting a response. The one she wanted to give him was anger. She wanted to shout, "You're supposed to be his brother!" but didn't. She sat there and clenched her jaw and wondered what this ill-speak of Matt was meant to accomplish.
But she stayed silent.
He said, "Ever been out around a dodgy area of a town at night? That feeling you get, sort of on edge, knowing you might get into trouble for no reason, for minding your own business? That's Matt's world. That night-time dodgy area, that's what he sees all the time. He sees that in a shopping centre on a sunny afternoon."
She just looked at him.
"Matt's on edge all the time, no matter where he is. Alert, on his guard, ready. Only way he can feel safe and relaxed is alone. He came back to us, and then off he went again. To be alone." He paused. "But he's not alone. He's with you."
She had planned to say nothing again, but felt she couldn't avoid speaking her mind. "What are you saying to me? What's your point?" She looked past him, at the house. She wanted Matt to return and end this torture.
"He was terrified of spiders when we were kids. I chased him with one. Cornered him, held him down, tried to force it into his mouth –"
"The loving brother."
"- and in it went, crushed all over his lips and stuff. He cried. Then he chewed." Danny laughed. "The guy fucking chewed it. Chewed and swallowed and actually said thanks to me. Know why he said that?"
"I don't know," Lisa said, and this time it wasn't just some remark. Now she was kind of interested, sensing that this guy actually had a point other than insulting his kin.
"Bye bye fear, that's why. All of a sudden he knew that his fear of spiders had been just silly. And that's how he did things after that. If Matt got a fear, he killed it instantly. He used to hang out the bedroom window by his hands, so he didn't mind heights. He used to cut himself, so he didn't mind blood. He used to get me to punch him all over the body, so the pain of physical attack didn't bother him. I remember a lot of little things that made him seem weird as a kid, but I understood it all later, when I got wiser. He slept on a pile of bricks outside the house once. He could sit or sleep in any position for hours after that. He wore pebbles in his shoes for a whole day. His feet never hurt again after that, no matter how far we walked. There was always a little grin on his face when other kids got in pain. Some of the teachers thought he might be a bit mental, but it wasn't that. It was Matt seeing flaws in people that he didn't have. That was Matt. And that, Lisa, was why Matt joined the army."
"He told me-"
"Travel. That was what he told people after it became too cheesy to say he joined to serve his country. Travel, see the world. Bullshit. He joined because guys who see violent action in the army see the evil that humans can do. He wanted all the weapons and martial arts training. He was just acclimatising himself, that's what I think. And once he was immune, he left. He just upped and left."
"What you think? So this is all just your theory?"
Danny studied her face.
"I know my brother. I watched him grow
. Into a machine. Are you a machine?"
Now she was losing interest again. "Where's are you going with this?"
"The man doesn't trust the world, Lisa. There's tough, smart and dangerous people out there, and you never know when some shit's going to land on your doorstep. So it's like Matt thinks the only way to survive this world is to be tougher and smarter and more dangerous than everyone else –"
"Is that such a bad thing?" she jumped in, angry.
But Danny was also angry. He slapped the dashboard. "Does that mean the rest of us are weak and useless?"
She glared at him, surprised by the outburst.
"I know he's a good guy," Danny said. "By early teenage years he was looking out for us. I was still bigger than him then, but he was big brother really. Beat the hell out of people who threatened me. He'd stalk those fuckers for days to get them alone. He obsessed about that sort of stuff. It ate him up when one of us had a problem with something, or someone, like he thought we couldn't look out for ourselves. Well I can, so –"
In she jumped again: "What is your goddamn point with –"
"I want to know what's going on!" he yelled at her. "I'm not a fucking weak little girl. I know Matt feels like he betrayed Karen by leaving. If he'd stayed, she wouldn't have gotten into trouble, some shit like that. And I know he's not back to do the grieving family member thing. He's back because he wants to tear the head off the bastard who killed her. But he won't tell me, because I'm some mere mortal who can't be involved in case I graze my knees. But you're obviously helping him, he obviously thinks you can handle it without crying, so I want to know what you two have found out."
She wanted to tell him to piss off, but thought better of it. She chose ignorance: "I don't know what you're talking about. We've been catching up on old times, that's all."
He stared out the windscreen in silence. Thirty seconds. She watched his chest fall and rise rapidly and knew he was fuming. But she said nothing.
Eventually he threw open the door and got out. But before he shut it and left, he bent down and looked at her and said, "He left home because he doesn't like to let people get close. He cares too much and hates it. Worrying about us mere mortals all the time takes its toll. He won't let you get close. He'll leave again when this is over. He'll just up and go and leave you standing."
She sat and tried to forget about what he had said. Especially that last part. But it was hard. Her relationship with Matt back in Cyprus had ended because Matt had left to return to England. Sure, his time in the army was up, but still… She had been wondering if they might have a future, but Matt had simply left that morning without a word, as if he was doing no more than just popping out to the shops.
Matt emerged twenty minutes later, looking grim. His mother hugged him at the door. Behind her, his father, who gave a thumbs up. Instinctively she ducked, as if fearful of what might happen if they saw her. Then the door was closed and he was jogging back to the car. He handed her his phone even before he'd gotten into his seat. But he said nothing.
There was a picture on the phone. It was a photo of a photo. Some mug shot. The police must have provided a picture, which Matt then took a photo of. A guy with blotchy skin, week-old stubble and army-short hair going thin and wispy at the front. He had the sort of look that fit different scenarios. Put a white coat on him and a stethoscope round his neck and no one would doubt he was a doctor. Same if you put him in a traffic warden's uniform, or a McDonald's cap. And in the police mug shot, he looked every part the criminal, just like a guy who might have murdered a prostitute.
"Is this him?" she said, although she knew it was.
He took the phone back and stared closely at the picture as he told her what the police had told the family.
Yesterday the police responded to a loud music complaint in Woodberry Down, Hackney. Kicked in the door when there was no answer. Found this guy dead in an armchair. Heroin overdose. Known user. A cursory search yielded evidence that linked him to the killing of a prostitute in Hackney last week. They also had CCTV footage showing the dead man's vehicle close to the area where her body was found, on the very night she was killed. Name: Daniel Barthow.
She watched him bore his eyes into the face of the man he had hunted. The look on his face was as if a void had opened in his gut. Like something painful, like a genuine hole there. Like a space that had expanded and pushed aside organs. Maybe it was simply the anger anyone would display upon seeing the face of one who caused so much pain. But she suspected Matt was angry because this Daniel Barthow had escaped justice. He was dead, but he was dead by his own hand, and in a sense that made him still a free man, to remain so forever. Matt would not get his revenge. But dead was dead, and there was nothing they could do about it. It was over.
"Is it over?" she said. In a way she hoped not. Because that might mean having to go home. She didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay with him, at least a little longer.
He dropped his phone into the footwell and rubbed his temples with both hands.
"We read too much into it. Fucking telescopes and listening devices and grand conspiracies." He sat in silence for a few moments, moments in which Lisa felt as awkward as she ever had in her life. There had been no talk of a conspiracy until she entered the scene. She felt stupid. She felt as if she had led him on a wild goose chase.
Then he abruptly climbed out of the car. Just like his brother half an hour before, he stood by the open door and bent and looked at her and said something that stung: "You should go home. I need to stay here."
She watched him enter the house. Then realised she was in his car. She locked it, went to the house and posted the keys, and then pulled up her collar ready for a long walk back to her B&B and a long drive home to Manchester.
*
The next morning Matt went to the Woodbury Downs estate to check out the house of his sister's killer. He turned onto the street and saw it immediately. The street was lined on both sides with terraced flats, two storeys. Balconies for the upper flats, small, square lawns without fencing for those below. There was a uniformed cop in a raincoat outside the entrance of one of the blocks. His shift must have been ongoing a while, because he no longer stood at attention like a serious guardian. He leaned against the entrance doors, hands in his raincoat, looking about as bored as it was possible for a man to get. It was a communal entrance, each door serving a number of flats. His job, Matt guessed, probably just to make sure nobody who wasn't a resident entered.
Matt wasn't a resident. But he was family to the dead girl, and maybe the cop had a soul.
The cop stood upright when Matt's Mondeo slipped to the kerb. He watched Matt come up the path, put a hand up like a traffic officer when Matt was still eight feet out.
"You live here?"
"The guy who killed my sister did," Matt said. If he expected some sympathy, he got a shock. The guy sturdied his halting hand as if his bosses had shown him a photo of Matt and said this is the very last guy you let anywhere near the flat.
"You can't come here, sir. Sorry about your sister, but you have to leave."
"Did he definitely do it?"
"I'm just here to watch the door. You need to just leave."
"His van was seen driving past the wasteground where she was found. Did -"
The cop looked shocked. He waved his hands like some kid refusing to be potty-trained. "I'm not involved, sir, so just please go."
"Do you know if the CCTV showed him actually in the driver's seat?"
Now the cop gritted his teeth. Clearly he didn't care about the dead girl or her family, just what trouble he could get into for talking to Matt. Through those gritted teeth, his eyes scanning left and right as if to make sure nobody was watching, he told Matt to piss off.
Matt considered smacking the guy, damn the consequences. Instead, he left.
As he was driving back to his parents' house, he caught sight of an employment agency and thought about work. That made him realise he might be here to stay. Then he
drove right past, and wondered what that meant.
At his parents' house, he found them dressed ready for heading out. Cinema, Mum said. They didn't go often, but there was a place showing the old Star Wars films, and Mum was a big fan. They asked if he wanted to join them, but he declined, as they knew he would, he figured. Being nice to their errant son. When they were gone, he fired up their laptop computer and tried to find out more about Daniel Barthow, the police investigation into Karen's death, and what the job market could offer an ex-soldier with - because all his work had been cash-in-hand – a blank work record over the last seven years.
When his parents returned, he was asleep on the sofa. It was early evening. His mother was standing over him, craning her neck to see what he'd been up to on the laptop. He was glad he hadn't been watching porn.
"Are you looking for a job?" she said, her face lit up like a sun-washed beach.
He nodded. She stroked his hair. "I'll ask Danny. He's a boss. It'll be good to have you around again. Hungry?"
He nodded again. Wondered what it would be like to work for his brother. Degrading, probably.
They sat down to eat in front of another Star Wars film, now that Mum had a reacquired taste for it. Matt watched without watching. He was thinking about Karen, the funeral, the fact that Mum and Dad hadn't mentioned her all day. He now wondered if the reason was not him but them. Rather than to avoid upsetting him, were they trying to avoid upsetting themselves? He tried to push the thought aside, but was constantly aware that he couldn't see Karen in the house. Not a picture on the walls. What did that mean?
He excused himself around about ten p.m. He went to his old bedroom and laid down on the foldaway bed and stared into space - literally. The painting on his ceiling made him think of Karen as a child. And it gave him an idea. It might never come to fruition, and if it didn't he was going to have a very stressful life. But just in case, he made a mental note to get hold of some photos of Karen.