by Ed James
Cullen looked away. The place looked like a charity shop – one where all the good old stuff had been sold and nobody had dropped off anything new. Piles of unwashed laundry, an empty play pen, a sad assortment of half-broken domestic goods, mismatched furniture.
Candy looked up at him, and again she seemed to know exactly what he saw. ‘I’m in the middle of sorting the place out.’ Her voice was an exhausted drone. ‘I just never get around to doing much. The wee one screams as soon as I put him down. He’s four months now and all he does is feed, but he’s still not growing as he should and the health worker said I’m to breastfeed him whenever he’ll take it, so…’
He tried to make his next question sound as inoffensive as possible. ‘Is his dad not around?’
Her look hardened. ‘He’s Dean’s kid.’
Another one.
Shite.
‘Only gives me the bare minimum child support cos his businesses are squirrelled away abroad. Some shite like that. He’s never shown his face around here since the day this wee terror was born. Now he’s not even answering his phone anymore.’ She looked down at her baby, gazing at him with nothing but love in her eyes. ‘Your father’s a fucking arsehole. I hope you grow up nothing like him.’ Her voice was so soft, her words were hard to hear.
Cullen thought he hadn’t heard right.
‘What?’ Candy glared at him. ‘Are you shocked a mother would say something like that to her child? Shocked I hate that fucking bastard?’
‘Just makes our job easier.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Well, we’d normally ask to have a Family Liaison Officer here to help you deal with the news, but—’
‘What?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘What the hell’s happened?’
‘Vardy was murdered.’
The words didn’t seem to have the slightest effect on her. Maybe she hadn’t heard right. Then her eyes went out of focus. ‘Good fucking riddance.’ She let out a gasp. ‘What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry he’s finally pissed off the wrong person? I’m only sorry his payments are going to stop now…’ Her eyes went out of focus again. ‘Not that it’s keeping me in the lifestyle I’d like to become accustomed to.’
Don’t lose her. Keep her away from reflecting on her sugar daddy’s demise and her impending financial doom.
He cut into her thoughts with a sharp cough. ‘I’m sorry I have to ask you this, but you didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?’
Her shrug suggested she’d considered it every sleepless night since her child was born, but she shook her head. ‘To be honest, I’d love to have had the privilege, but—’
Hunter’s phone rang, the opening riff of Pearl Jam’s Alive blaring out of his suit pocket. ‘Sorry.’ He rummaged around for the mobile.
The baby latched off his mother’s breast to scream the house down.
Hunter left the room to take the call outside, killing the jangly music with a curt, ‘What?’
Candy stroked her baby’s bright red face and cooed at him until he calmed down enough to take her breast again.
Cullen glanced away to grant her some privacy, but she didn’t seem to notice, or care. ‘Candy, you were saying. About Dean?’
‘I had nothing to do with it. You know that, right? That prick’d never have got close enough to let me. After he raped me—’
A sour taste filled Cullen’s mouth. ‘He raped you?’
Candy blinked away the dazed look in her eyes and focused the full force of her resentment on Cullen. ‘Is that so hard to believe?’ She stared at him, the exhausted baby still suckling away at her exhausted breast. ‘Are you surprised that he’d want to have sex with a woman as fucked as me?’
‘No, no… I had no idea. I’m so sorry.’
‘Wee Stuart…’ Candy gestured at the little thing, eyes half shut, chin trembling in a semi-conscious feeding instinct. She snorted, shaking her head. ‘My wee Stu’s the only good thing in my shitty wee life.’
Cullen said nothing, just stared at the mother and child.
‘I know what you’re thinking.’ Candy stroked her kid’s cheek. ‘Why didn’t she get an abortion after that bastard raped her? Why is she raising a child in this shithole?’
‘No, no. Not at all. I just feel so sorry—’
‘Don’t insult me, you prick. I’ve enough to deal with as it is. Listen to me, I’ll tell you the truth. I thought about an abortion. Had the appointment made, but in the end, I couldn’t go through with it.’
Cullen tried to reach out to her. ‘You’re not the only one in this situation, you know?’
‘You mean Amy Forrest, right?’ The tears broke from her eyes, but she didn’t brush them away. Just let them run down her cheeks like silent screams of accusation. ‘He did the same thing to her. We worked together at Wonderland before she… left. Even seeing what happened to her, I just…’ She looked down at her tiny child, tears welling up in her eyes as she stroked his forehead. ‘I wanted to protect this little bastard. Dean couldn’t ruin him as well. I wasn’t going to let that happen.’ A tear dropped down on the wee boy. With a quiet sniff, Candy blinked her blurry eyes clear, then ever so gently wiped the tear off the child’s still face. She looked back up at Cullen with a hardness in her grey eyes, like a rock face after a thunderstorm. ‘I love my son, and I promised myself that he’ll have a better life than I’ve had. I didn’t act out any of those revenge fantasies so this wee sod has a mother and that bastard kept paying for his son. If Dean ever got put away, his people would take all of his money and we’d be left with nothing. And now he’s dead…’ Her eyes went out of focus again as she got lost in her thoughts.
Cullen wanted to do more for her, but no helping words came to him. There weren’t any.
Candy looked up at him, a child herself. Then her empty gaze dropped back to her sleeping child.
There was a soft knock on the door. It opened and Hunter stuck his head into the living room. ‘Sorry, mate, the boss wants us back at the station.’
‘—shouldn’t be here, Scott.’ Sharon stared at Cullen. She didn’t even look at Hunter. ‘And I thought better of you, Craig.’
Hunter cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, boss, but I gave Scott Miss Broadhurst’s address and took him there to follow up on a—’
She gave Hunter a thin smile. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’
Hunter stood there.
She jerked her head at the door. ‘That means leave.’ She waved Hunter away with a flick of her wrist and watched him go.
Cullen waited for the door to click shut. ‘Listen, Sharon—’
‘No, you listen to me. You’re a DS and I’m a DI. You’re in my office and you’re messing up my case without my knowledge, let alone my approval.’ She paused, her scornful gaze drilling into him in a way he’d never seen, even during their worst arguments. ‘Have you nothing better to be getting on with these days?’
‘I’m following the best lead available. Since Dean Vardy got murdered, we’re—’
‘What?’
‘You hadn’t heard?’
She was quick to recover, sitting up and tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘Does Methven know you’re over here?’
Cullen clenched his teeth, biting back the hurt. He breathed in and out and counted down from five. ‘He knows. So does Bill Lamb.’
She held his stare for a few seconds, fury burning in her eyes. ‘I hear that Livingston are catching up with you and your antics.’
‘Is that why you’re kicking me out? So I don’t smear your lovely career?’
‘What the fuck, Scott?’
‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You took over my case without telling me, groomed my witness when you knew full well that we’d been forced to drop the case – all while we were living together.’
‘Scott, at some point in your life, you need to stop acting like a child and just—’ She looked like she was about to say more but released her fury with a sigh. ‘I can’t deal with
you any more.’ She waved at the door like he was Hunter. Just some junior cop in her office. ‘Get out. I’ll take this up with Methven or Lamb or whoever you’re pretending to work for.’
Cullen looked at her. He thought he had so much left to say, but he just felt empty. With a nod, he turned to leave. ‘I’ll get my stuff later tonight.’
She looked away. ‘I’d rather you cleared your crap out when I wasn’t there.’
Cullen waited for her to make eye contact again. ‘Well, why don’t you fuck off out somewhere?’
28
Cullen closed the office door like he was putting the lid down on a coffin. He wandered through the Sexual Offences Unit, aware of their eyes on him, but he ignored them and powered down the corridor towards the front desk, bumping through a pair of uniformed officers streaming towards him.
Hunter stood in the low murmur of the public waiting area. ‘Hey, Scott. Are you—?’
Cullen walked right on by with a bland nod, then stepped through the front door without looking back. He stomped across the road, the ice-cold wind cooling his face and neck, and unlocked his car.
‘Scott!’ Hunter dodged through the traffic, then round the bonnet of his car. ‘Wait up, mate.’
Cullen stood there, grabbing the handle, ready to open the door and get the fuck out of there. His heart was hammering. But he stopped and let out a deep breath. ‘What do you want, Craig?’
‘Never seen DI McNeill that pissed off. What did she want from you?’
‘My soul.’
Hunter grinned. ‘You want to talk about it?’
‘Not really.’ Cullen tugged the door wide open and got in. He slumped behind the wheel and stuck his head against it.
What the hell do I do now?
The passenger door opened and Hunter got in. ‘Scott, you need to—’
Cullen sat up straight and started the engine. ‘You probably want to get out.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To our flat. Her flat.’ Cullen stuck the car in gear, but held the clutch. ‘I’m getting my stuff.’
‘Wait. She kicked you out?’ Hunter smirked. ‘Who’d you shag this time?’
‘Craig…’ Cullen turned off the engine. ‘Listen, I can only apologise so many times for—’
‘I know.’ Hunter’s smile gave way to a tired frown. ‘You don’t need to apologise again, okay? I’m in a good place. Start the car and let’s go before Sharon catches us sneaking off together again.’
‘So, yeah.’ Cullen kicked down to fourth and pulled into the slight gap on the fast lane and overtook the coach, settling into the rhythm of rush-hour traffic. ‘I didn’t see it coming. Feel like such a twat.’
Hunter narrowed his eyes. ‘Where are you going to live?’
Cullen glanced around the car. ‘I was checked in at Tulliallan for this course, but Lamb’s chucked me off it and they’ve kicked me out of there. Guess I’ll live out of the car for a while.’
‘The Lincoln Lawyer, eh?’ Hunter looked around at the midden on the back seat. ‘Bad news, mate, this isn’t a hotel.’
‘No shit.’
Hunter cleared his throat with a loud cough. ‘I’ll probably regret this, but if you promise not to shag my cat, you can sleep on my sofa.’
Cullen laughed. ‘Seriously? After—’
‘No more apologies. Just for a few nights, mind.’
Cullen trudged up the stairs to Sharon’s flat, frazzled from all that stop-and-go traffic. He took a moment to stare at his key, then shook his head at his daft sentimentality. ‘Come on.’ He opened the door and led through the hallway into the kitchen. It looked clean for an emotional crime scene, the place where she’d ripped out his heart and stomped all over it. He fetched a roll of jumbo bin bags from the cupboard under the sink and tore off a few for Hunter. ‘Just shove it in a bag and we can get out of here.’
Hunter followed him into the bedroom. ‘Just like old times, when I moved my bin bags into your old place in Porty.’
‘Maybe we’re destined to end up together, Craig. Police Scotland’s odd couple.’
‘Next stop, sleeping under a bridge.’
Cullen laughed. He opened his chest of drawers and start piling his clothes into a bag.
Hunter laid his empty bags on the bed and picked up Cullen’s first full one. ‘Tell you what – you pack and I’ll take the bags down to the car.’
Cullen passed the final bag to Hunter, his precious stereo all packed away like a pro had done it. ‘Be down in a minute.’
‘Take your time, mate.’ Hunter frowned at the cat swarming round Cullen’s feet. ‘That’s Chantal’s cat’s brother, right?’
‘Something like that.’ Cullen knelt in front of Sharon’s cat. ‘Give me a minute.’
‘Sure.’ Hunter’s footsteps rattled in from the stairwell, the door clicking shut.
Cullen sat on the floor, stroking the purring wee thing. ‘Hey, boy, I know you hate me but I’m going to miss you.’
‘Ma-wow!’ Fluffy did his little dance, arching his back halfway through his march around in a tight circle. ‘Ma-wow!’
‘I know, boy.’ Cullen stroked the cat, slowly and tenderly, the fluff balling up on the laminate.
It’s not just leaving him, it’s a whole chapter of my life. The number of times the little guy had been patiently waiting for me when I got back in, Sharon working late in Bathgate. All the times—
Cullen got to his feet. ‘See you around, Fluffy.’ He tore the first key off his ring and the first tear hit his cheek. He didn’t wipe it as he tore the second key off. One last look at Fluffy, sitting there, staring up at him, and he forced himself to shut the door. Then pushed the two keys through the letterbox. He wiped the tears away with the palms of his hands. Felt about three stone lighter. Then he started skipping down the stairs, catching one last ‘Ma-wow!’ muffled by the door.
Out on the street, Hunter stood by double-parked car, forcing the last box onto the rammed back seat, the boot long since filled up. ‘It’s never just about leaving a person behind, is it?’
‘No.’ Cullen felt a lump in his throat, the kind you can’t swallow, so he didn’t bother trying. ‘No, it’s not. Let’s get going.’ He got in the car and pulled out his phone. ‘I’ll just text Sharon.’ He stared at the phone, no idea what to say to the woman he’d once wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He sat there, discarding all the platitudes people reserve for these moments, hand-me-downs from generations of thoughtless break-ups, cast-offs from soap operas.
In the end, he typed what he felt.
‘Thanks for trying with me. I loved what we had. See you around. Scott X’
Cullen dumped the two bin bags behind the sofa. His new bed.
Bubble lay smack bang in the middle of it, and she stayed right where she was even when Cullen settled down next to her. A cat with enough confidence for two.
Cullen tickled her tummy. ‘I could use some of that. Fancy sharing it?’
Bubble meowed and turned away.
Hunter stood in the kitchen doorway, a beer bottle in his hand. ‘You alright there?’
Cullen settled back on the sofa. ‘This’ll do fine, thanks.’
‘Not what I meant, but I’m glad to know it.’ Hunter poured the beer into an ornate schooner glass. ‘Don’t mind me.’
‘You wouldn’t happen to have any more, would you?’
Hunter walked over and handed Cullen the glass. ‘Have this one, mate.’
Cullen nodded his thanks while he took the first sip. ‘Good stuff.’ Another sip. Becoming a habit. ‘Least I can do is take you out for something to eat.’
‘I don’t go down on a first date.’
Cullen swallowed the mouthful of beer, careful not to spray it all over his new digs. ‘I’m serious.’
‘So am I.’ Hunter picked up a brightly coloured leaflet from the coffee table and handed it to Cullen. ‘This is decent.’
‘My treat.’ Cullen scanned the menu, but after a couple of s
econds he placed it on the sofa next to him. ‘Listen, I know you don’t want me to go on about it, but… Thanks for helping me out. After all the shit I put you through with Yvonne—’
‘You’re right, I don’t want you to go on about it. Time to put that old story to bed now. I’m over it, and I’m in a much better place with Chantal.’ Hunter folded his arms, squinting down at Cullen. ‘Anyway, why do you keep going on about Yvonne?’
‘No real reason.’ Cullen covered his embarrassment with a fake yawn, but it quickly turned into a real one. ‘Jesus, I’m tired.’
‘Long day, I suppose.’ Hunter dropped his arms again and looked around the room. ‘You know what, I’ll leave you to it. I sleep at Chantal’s most nights, so you can have my bed. Fresh sheets in the cupboard. Some of my brother’s eggs in the kitchen if you want some breakfast.’ He pointed at the menu lying on the sofa. ‘And I heartily recommend the banana, mushroom and chocolate pizza.’
Thursday
16th February
29
Cullen brushed hard, trying to get the taste of banana from his mouth. He spat into Hunter’s sink and glanced down. A shred of mushroom sat right in the middle of his toothpaste.
What the hell?
He split his lips and said cheese, but his teeth still looked brown.
That’s what I get for following Hunter’s culinary recommendation. Hard enough eating the thing in the first place.
He stared at his reflection a moment longer. Could’ve sworn it was a stranger. The haggard face, the grey hair despite being damp from his shower, the empty eyes…
He headed into the living room with a towel around his waist and started searching the bin bags for fresh clothes.
Bubble shot out of the first one and ran over to hide under the sofa.
Little bugger.
He rooted around in the leftovers of his life, finding clean underwear, socks, and a crumpled shirt next to a washed-out Pearl Jam tee that Sharon had given him as an ironic souvenir. He swallowed hard as he tugged his pants on.
