Lasting Scars

by Lenny Brando

  Alice laughed. “Don't worry, Connie. I won't take him.”

  Connie leaned into Lucas. “I know you won’t. Nobody will ever take him from me.”

  Lucas turned to Connie. “I’ll show you why later...”

  “Stop it Luc,” Connie said. But the smile on her face told its own story.

  Alice bit her lip and thought she’d made a mistake. “Are you guys on a date night?”

  “No,” Connie said.

  Lucas kissed Connie on the lips “Always,” he said.

  “Don't mind him,” Connie said to Alice. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

  They studied the menus at the table, and Alice flipped to the wine pages. “Any preference for wine?”

  Lucas waved his hand. “You choose. But not too expensive, huh?”

  Connie put her hand on his arm. “Alice knows, Lucas.”

  When the waitress took their order, Alice noticed Lucas’s eyes flit to the menu as she ordered an Amarone. His lips thinned and he shook his head.

  Halfway through the main course, Alice made to top up her glass, but the bottle was empty. She shook the bottle at Connie. “Another?”

  “Sure,” Connie said.

  “Um, guys?” Lucas raised his eyebrows. “It’s like Kr800 a bottle.”

  Connie rolled her eyes. “It’s okay, Luc. I’ll pay.”

  “That’s not the point,” Lucas said. “They’re ripping us off.”

  Connie laughed. “Luc’s a leftie. That’s what happened when you work at the university. The student mentality rubs off on you.”

  “I’m the Associate Dean of Technology. Hardly a student.”

  Connie turned to Alice. “You know what his salary is?”

  “Really, Connie?” Lucas asked.

  “It’s okay,” Alice said. “You don't have to say.”

  Connie called the waitress over and motioned to the wine. “Another please.”

  Alice shrunk back in her seat and wished she was back in Portobello, sitting at her kitchen counter. She wouldn't have to listen to all the banality. The price of a bottle of wine. Or how much anyone earned. Or how obviously happy and content Connie was with Lucas. And they could keep their bedroom antics to themselves. Alice didn't want to know.

  In these circumstances, with everything so nice, so mundane, how could Alice pose the question she’d wanted to ask for years? Alice’s gaze swept around the restaurant. Couples and groups occupied every table. More people sat at the bar, biding their time with elaborate looking cocktails. Her eyes swivelled back to a table in the corner. The guy looked familiar. He looked towards her with a faint smile. Then she gasped and jerked her head away.

  “Alice?” Connie asked. “You okay?”

  “I... No. I don't think so.” Alice picked up her glass and drained the last of the wine.

  Connie leaned in. “What?”

  “The guy in the corner. With the blue shirt. I think it’s one of them.”

  “One of who?” Lucas asked.

  Connie raised her hand at Lucas.

  The empty glass trembled in Alice’s hand. She went to set it down but misjudged the movement and the glass fell over. It rolled to the edge of the table, but Connie reached out and caught it before it fell. Connie looked Alice in the eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  Alice took a deep breath. “I think it’s Jesper Gronning.”

  Connie whispered something into Lucas’s ear, and he left the table. She reached to take Alice’s hand in hers. Connie blinked back a tear and squeezed Alice’s hand. “I was never certain what happened in Ved Volden. I suspected. But I convinced myself otherwise. I lied to myself. And I never asked. Never tried to talk to you. I thought that was how you wanted it and that eventually you would, you know, when the time was right.” Connie closed her eyes and shook her head. “This is a conversation we’ve postponed for too long. I always… I thought it was... Now I see it wasn’t. Oh my God. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “You couldn't know, Connie. It was my fault. The whole thing was my fault. Everything that...”

  The waitress came back and opened the wine with a wide smile that disappeared when she looked from Connie to Alice. She left the open bottle and hurried from the table. Connie filled up their glasses and Alice continued. “The two of them, Jesper Gronning and Thorsten Pederson, they…” Alice looked down to the floor. “I still can’t say it.”

  “Alice,” she said. “Nothing that night was your fault. Nothing. Those two guys were responsible for everything. Never forget that.”

  Alice looked over to the corner. Lucas had engaged the guy who looked like Jesper in conversation. They laughed. Alice swung her eyes back to Connie. “What’s going on?”

  “I asked Lucas to find out if it is Jesper Gronning.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s time for both of us to stop hiding from it.”

  Alice picked up her wine glass and took a long sip. “For pokker.” She shook her head. “I went to Prinsessegade today. But I couldn't go to Ved Volden. I stood on the corner and shivered.” She held Connie’s gaze for a beat. “I’m still hiding from it.”

  Connie nodded. Her lips moved as if she was about to speak. But she appeared to struggle to find the words.

  Alice looked down at the table. “I heard you laughing. You know, that night. You in the other room. Safe. Me in the bedroom. Not so safe...”

  Connie’s left eyelid twitched, and she looked away. “I didn’t know what was happening.” She rubbed her eye and turned back to Alice. “And I’ve tried to convince myself there was nothing I could have done.” She shook her head. “I mean, how could I know? I thought you were into it.”

  “So did those bastards.”

  “We were 19, drunk, naive. Knew nothing about men. Didn't realise some were predators.”

  Alice leaned forward. “Most of them are.”

  Connie shrugged. “Perhaps. But I never thought they'd do that. And you never spoke about it. It was like we kinda knew. But never said.” Tears ran down Connie’s face. “I’m so, so sorry, Alice. I feel I didn't do enough. And I let you down. Worse, I told you to have fun.”

  “It’s not your fault either, Connie. You couldn't have known what they would do.”

  Connie shook her head. “I wish I could have done something. Sorry...”

  Alice crossed her legs in the chair. “I had no control over the situation. I couldn't stop it. Didn't know how. Stupid me. The shame. The feeling of helplessness. I was weak. Feeble. Fragile. Afterwards, all these negative words filled my head. They began to take over. To define me. I couldn't let that happen.” Alice looked down at her wrists and rubbed the scars. “I could see no way out. But somehow I found the strength to bury it all. The passing of time helped too. And moving to London. Then all this lort happens. And I was stupid again. I thought I could face Ved Volden. You know, get over the self-blame for what happened. I guess I was wrong.”

  Connie wiped her eyes with her napkin. “No, Alice. No. It’s not down to you. It’s down to those two skiderikker. Let’s not play with nice words. This is what it is. They raped you.”

  The words jolted Alice, and she shifted in her seat. Before she could reply, Lucas returned. He sat down and shook his head. “Not even Danish.” He looked from Alice to Connie. “Want to tell me about this? Perhaps I can help?”

  44

  Cole grabbed a beer from his fridge and cracked it on the way to his computer. Froth overflowed and dripped onto the rug. He wiped it with his foot, but it made little difference, so he kept going. No-one would notice the new stain among all the old ones. He lit a cigarette and took several heavy drags while he downloaded his phone video footage of the viewing with Flanagan.

  Half an hour later, he finished cutting and slicing it into meaningful clips. Out of focus problems and blurry camera shake rendered most of the footage useless. Then he set about viewing the edited video. He watched Flanagan key in the alarm code several times, until he was certain of the digits, 8294, which
he recorded in a file on his phone.

  He examined the tin of plasticine and grinned in anticipation of what he’d do with a key to the house. Meanwhile, he would call on his experience with wireless security systems. He never expected his job would come in so handy. First, he needed images of the motion detectors installed in the house. He zoomed in on the video he’d taken in the hall and took a screen shot of the detector in the top corner. Within minutes, he’d found what he was looking for in a nearby electrical store. Wireless cameras that looked like part of the alarm system. Exactly what he needed for her bedroom.

  Cole knew that sooner or later, someone would discover camera, but he only needed a week or two of recording Alice in her bedroom. That should give him enough to work with. His grin widened as he thought of where he could post those videos. Twitter? FaceBook? YouTube? All of them? What wouldn't he give to see the look on Alice Madsen’s face when she realised her most intimate moments were on public display, and the watching world subjected her to the derision and humiliation she deserved?

  45

  The following morning, Cole stood outside a door next to a shop on Bethnal Green Road. There were several buzzers to the flats above, and Cole pressed the one marked ‘C’. Nothing happened and Cole pressed it again. Longer this time. Cole wondered whether the buzzer worked, and he kept his finger on it. After a minute, a window above opened and a shaved head peered out. “Huh?”

  Cole squinted up in the sunshine. The guy looked to have a smudge on his forehead. “Looking for Scully.”

  “Huh?”

  “Tell him it’s Coley. He’s expecting me.”

  A few minutes later the door buzzed open and Cole climbed the stairs. Scully opened the door before he knocked. Scully wore briefs and a sleeveless T-shirt. Tattoos covered his arms and legs. He stared at Cole. “You gonna stand there all day?” When Scully turned, Cole glimpsed a new tattoo on his head. He couldn't make it out and decided not to ask.

  Junk lay all over the living room, except for a clear path between the threadbare sofa and the TV. The smell of weed hung heavy in the air. The guy with the shaved head sat slumped on the sofa, gazing towards the TV. He had a distinctive spider web tattoo that spread from his neck to his ear. The smudge on his forehead turned out to be a third eye inked between his brows.

  Scully pointed at him. “That’s Mince on the couch. Mince, say hello to Coley.”

  “Huh?” Mince looked up, grunted something and returned to staring at the TV.

  “Mince? He a bandit or what?”

  “Wanna ask him that?”

  Cole glanced at Mince and thought again. “Nah.”

  “Smart move, fella. It’s Mince as in minced meat. Said he brained someone once.” Scully shook his head. “Said it reminded him of mince.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Cole pointed at the TV. “Does he know the sound is off?”

  Scully shrugged and pointed to a large joint sitting in an ashtray. A narrow plume of smoke rose from the tip and dissipated halfway to the ceiling. “Mince is someplace else, fella. See, he oughta be at a ton forty an ounce. If I wasn't someplace else after smoking that stuff, I’d be demanding a refund. A refund with menaces.” He looked Cole in the eye. “Know what I mean? Anyway, best let him alone. He don't like to be disturbed. Now, show me what you got.”

  Cole took out the tin and prised open the lid with care. “I need keys made from these impressions.”

  “Two?”

  “Yeah, one of each. I don’t know which is the real one.”

  Scully took the tin and examined it. “Can’t guarantee these’ll work, fella. These are a bitch to make.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “No. But maybe I know a bloke?”

  “How much?”

  “£200. Half now. The rest on delivery.”

  Cole raised an eyebrow. “For both?”

  “Yeah. Both.”

  “How long?”

  “Two days.”

  “Fuck that. I need them in the morning.”

  Scully sucked through his crooked teeth. “Could be a problem. I don’t do them myself. Gotta find the appropriate locksmith. Takes time.”

  “You having a laugh? It’s a 30 minute job. And you said you knew a guy.”

  “I said maybe, fella.” Scully spread his hands. “An extra £50 and I’ll have them in the morning.”

  “Christ. All right. £100 now, another £150 tomorrow.” Cole counted out the notes and got up to leave.

  “Hey, now we’ve done the business, you wanna try some of this ton forty weed?”

  Cole looked to the sofa. Mince was now staring at the ceiling. He blinked slowly, as if the effort of raising his eyelids took too much energy. The extra eye tattooed on his forehead fascinated Cole. It was like Mince still watched everything around him, even in the depths of stupor. “Nah. Think I’ll pass.”

  Scully shrugged. “Your loss.”

  Scully held the door open, and Cole stopped on his way out. “Them keys don't work, mate, I’ll be the one demanding a refund. With menaces. Know what I mean?”

  Scully reached out and grabbed Cole by the shoulder. Cole felt the fingers bite in, but he didn't flinch. Instead he stared Scully down.

  “Look here, fella,” Scully said. “Here’s how it is. You don't fuck with me and I don't fuck with you.” Scully stared right at him. Never blinked once.

  Cole nodded. “All right. But hand off the shoulder. Now.”

  Scully withdrew his hand. “We got an understanding here, fella?”

  “Yeah,” Cole said. “We do.”

  When he got to the street, Cole rubbed his shoulder. There’d be a bruise later. He spat onto the street and lit a cigarette. Nobody does that to King Cole. There might come a day to settle Scully’s mark. But only after he got the keys to Alice Madsen’s house. That bitch’s mark was a lot bigger and her settlement would be a lot higher. He grinned at what he would do to her. In the meantime, he’d send another tweet.

  46

  Alice ate breakfast alone in the hotel. Her head throbbed to the beat of another hangover and she berated herself for drinking too much the previous night. Connie and Lucas had drunk less, they used the sensible excuse of having work in the morning. Perhaps I should quit, she thought. Or at least cut down.

  She glanced at her phone to get the time. Kasper would be here soon. She downed the last of a large glass of water and walked out to the lobby. Fifteen minutes passed while she caught up with news from London on her phone. The police charged Samir Hassan with multiple terrorist offences. A male relative was currently in custody, helping with enquiries. They released three others after questioning, including a 31 year old foreign woman. She read the paragraph several times. The pall of suspicion would linger long after the event. That’s me, she thought. A suspicious 31 year old foreign woman. But I’m not foreign here. Copenhagen was true home, despite not feeling like it.

  A man walked towards her. She heard his footsteps on the tiles and looked up at his approach. Was it over two years since she'd seen him? Her brother looked older than 38. His hair was thinning, and he looked tired and gaunt. His body too thin for his clothes, as if he was too busy preparing food for others to eat any himself. When she got to her feet and embraced him, the acrid smell of stale tobacco filled her lungs.

  “Alice, hi.”

  “Hello Kasper. You look like you’re working too hard.”

  “Never stop. I don't have long this morning either. A supplier on Skindergade is waiting for me. I have a problem with the dishwasher. The temperature is too high for the wine glasses. They weaken, then they crack, or worse shatter in your hand. I had to send a waiter to hospital the other day. He needed ten stitches and two weeks off work.”

  “Problems, eh?”

  “I’ll survive, but I could use more hours in a day. You know how it is when you’re self-employed.”

  Alice nodded. “A lot of hassle.”

  “Well, if you ever want to move
home, you can have a job at my restaurant. I could use someone like you at front of house. You’d be a great hostess.”

  “Thanks, Kasper. Good to know there’s something more female waiting for me here.”

  “I meant it as a compliment.”

  Alice sighed. “Well it’s not. I’ve a serious TV show waiting for me back in London.”

  Kasper raised his eyebrows. “Sorry. I guess we’ve a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Come on. Let’s walk and talk.”

  By the time they ambled through the university and strolled by the cathedral, Alice had told Kasper her story. He nodded occasionally, and Alice had to look at him from time to time, to make sure he was listening to her and not concentrating on his restaurant business or his brittle wine glasses. “So,” he said. “Everything is okay now, yeah?”

  “I hope the worst is over. And I’ve stopped using Twitter and FaceBook.”

  He said nothing as they turned onto Skindergade and they walked in silence for a moment. He took a deep breath and glanced her way and Alice furrowed her brow. “What?” she asked.

  “Mama has a problem. Big problem.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “For sure. Yes. Cancer. It started in her breast and now it’s everywhere. Lungs, liver, bowels, pancreas.”

  “She say that?”

  Kasper stopped and grabbed her. “It’s serious, Alice. She’ll be dead in months, maybe weeks.”

  “I see.”

  “Christ, Alice. Don't you care?”

  “Of course I care, but you know how it is.”

  “I’ve made my peace. You should too.”

  Alice scoffed. “Never could admit she was wrong. Everything was always someone else’s fault.”

  “The cancer changed her. Once she looked death in the eye, she searched for her soul.”

  “That must have taken a while to find.”

  Kasper laughed and they continued walking. “She’s changed.”

  “Sure.”

  Kasper stared down the street and took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He shook one loose, lit it and took a long pull. “She needs to see you Alice. Before, you know...”