Storm and Stone

by Joss Stirling

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘We’ve possibly spotted the set-up but not what makes the whole thing hold together as a scheme.’

  ‘Well, once you’ve done one favour for the network, they’ve got that to hold over you. The temptation would be to keep your head down and do what’s asked.’

  ‘That’s the problem—it doesn’t look to me as if it works like that. It’s more than silent grudging consent—it’s active participation. I don’t get the feeling that blackmail is the main motive. Self-interest and something else.’

  ‘Yeah, Key’s right.’ Joe poured himself a glass of water and topped up Jan’s drink with his usual thoughtfulness. ‘From what we’ve seen of the parents, they’re acting more like they’re part of one of those secret societies, Freemasonry, that kind of thing. They probably have funny handshakes—I bet they go the whole nine yards.’

  ‘Carry on investigating the dynamics of this group, but we now need to move to evidence gathering if we are to take it down.’ Isaac gestured to the files. ‘We’ve got a pattern but it would be next to impossible to prove this in a court, as it’s easily denied.’

  Jan nodded. ‘But just as Al Capone was sent to jail for tax evasion and not murder, our boys have to find the loose thread that we can pull—something that’ll get them arrested.’

  ‘Yeah, good point. I don’t mind what the crime is as long as we can make the charge stick. These guys are dangerous, but take out the kingpins—the trustees—and I think the network will collapse.’ Isaac looked over at Dr Waterburn. ‘Have you anything to add, Naomi?’

  Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she paused in her typing. ‘Isn’t that rather a job suited for B or D stream students?’

  Kieran frowned at his fingers. Logically, his mentor was right but Kieran did not want to hand Raven’s future over to one of the smooth-talking Cobras like Daimon, or even a hunter Wolf like Nat.

  ‘Kieran, do you assess this situation to have gone beyond your capabilities?’ asked Isaac.

  He meant had it moved from the deduction phase to action? ‘No, I think there’s still a role for Joe and me. Besides we’re embedded in the school. A new team would have difficulty taking over this late.’

  ‘So the level of danger is acceptable?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Joe?’

  ‘I’m cool with staying.’ Joe glanced over at Kieran. ‘There’re lots of loose ends that still need tying.’

  ‘All right. Tie them up for me; get the evidence; then get out: those are your orders. I’ll handle the take down of the trustees but any tip-off when they are next in one place would be useful.’ He gathered the files and tapped them straight on the table top. ‘I think we’re done here. Enjoy your free afternoon.’

  Joe snagged Kieran’s elbow as they left the meeting.

  ‘What?’

  ‘In a hurry to meet Raven?’

  ‘No.’ Yes.

  ‘I want to talk to you about the prom.’

  ‘About what?’ Sometimes Kieran couldn’t find a logical thread to Joe’s conversation. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong but aren’t we in the middle of a complex operation here? What has the prom got to do with anything?’

  ‘You can’t keep up the cover if you miss the details, my friend. You must have noticed that almost everyone is going on about it. Hedda has been dropping heavy hints she expects me to ask her.’

  Kieran grinned. Finally: payback for Joe’s sins enrolling him in arts. ‘Are you going to take one for the team and do it?’

  Joe’s lips curled in disgust. ‘I suppose so—it would keep me on the inside track of her clique. But have you asked Raven yet?’

  ‘I don’t think she wants to go.’ He had given himself a pass on the prom thinking they would both prefer to remain at home that night. He’d been thinking pizza, a sofa, a couple of DVDs she liked and a little together time.

  Joe sighed. ‘And I thought you’d made such progress on female psychology, but you’re still on course 101. Yes, she hates the school prom but also it would be worse to have no one ask her. She would enjoy shocking everyone’s expectations and turning up looking amazing on your arm. Think of it as her giving the finger to all those who have tormented her.’

  This female brain stuff was far more complex that Kieran had guessed. ‘So she hates them all but still wants to spend the evening with them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With me?’

  ‘Yes.’ Joe nodded encouragingly.

  ‘That’s not logical. And I thought you told me not to get too serious about her—to keep some distance as the rules demand? Isn’t the prom something of a declaration, you know, that we’re dating.’

  ‘Key, you are dating—your brain hasn’t caught up yet with your subconscious. I’m not asking you to get serious, just to make sure she’s OK for the big night. Ask her.’

  Kieran suddenly felt very worried. ‘What if she turns me down?’

  ‘That, my friend, is the problem of being the boy in a relationship. Even in these days of sexual equality, you are still expected to stick your neck out.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Welcome to my world, Key.’

  Raven perched on the wall outside the Globe, people-watching—one of her favourite pastimes. She wondered what the party of Chinese tourists would make of the play they’d booked to see. She sometimes had to find a translation for Shakespeare, so imagine making sense of him from another language. Four skateboarders rolled by—a single file cavalry charge, scattering people out of their path. A woman fed the pigeons and seagulls, a lumpy collection of bottles in a plastic bag at her feet. She moved off, taking the flock with her, birds wheeling over the choppy grey waters of the Thames.

  Then someone pounced and put his hands over her eyes. ‘Guess who?’

  As if that woodsy smell of his aftershave wouldn’t give him away? ‘Um, the Mayor of London?’

  ‘Nope. Try again?’

  ‘Prince Harry.’

  ‘Sorry, no.’ He lifted his hands away and dug them in his pockets. Who needed a prince when she had Kieran standing in front of her?

  She swung her legs over the edge of the wall so she could stand and face him. ‘Then it must be Kieran Storm.’ She went up on tiptoe to brush a kiss on his cheek. ‘And that’ll do nicely.’

  ‘It will?’ He smiled down into her eyes. ‘Well then.’ He dipped his head and kissed her lightly on the lips, her lids closing as she savoured the sensation.

  When she opened them again, he was smiling down at her, green eyes no longer distant but very present. ‘Hello, Kieran.’

  ‘You got here OK?’

  She grinned. ‘Obviously I did because I’m standing right in front of you.’

  A little frown line appeared between his dark brows. ‘Yeah, I suppose that was a stupid question.’

  It was sweet to find that he wasn’t his usual arrogant self with her. Both of them were fumbling to find a new way of relating now they had shifted up a level to more than friends, and it was reassuring that he wasn’t too confident with his moves. She tucked her thumbs in her jeans, unconsciously mirroring his stance. ‘You’re never stupid. It’s not possible.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m glad you think so.’ He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, letting them drift to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. It recalled the moment in the garden when he had first touched her in that way. She held his gaze.

  ‘Did I really have grass on me?’

  He knew exactly what she was talking about. His eyes skated away for a second to rest on the flags flapping on the poles along the edge of the Globe site. ‘You could’ve.’

  ‘But I didn’t, did I?’

  ‘No.’

  Thoroughly pleased by his answer, she linked her arm with his and tugged him towards the theatre. ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Glad?’

  ‘Yes. I thought I imagined the moment, that I’d stood there like a chump dreaming up a special tingle between us when all
the while you’d just been thinking practical thoughts about getting me tidy.’

  He shifted from holding her elbow to putting his arm around her shoulders, bringing her to his side. ‘I wasn’t thinking practical thoughts, I promise you.’

  She laughed. It was so perfect to be with him she wanted to do something foolish like sing at the top of her voice. Not wanting to embarrass him, she settled for more conversation.

  ‘How was home?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Mum, Dad?’

  Kieran’s eyes flickered over the crowds on the South Bank. He rolled his shoulders, relieving some tension he had stored up since the day before. ‘Same as usual. Asking what I’m doing, how the exams are going—you know the kind of thing. They liked the sound of the dance we did—said they wished they could’ve come.’

  ‘Why didn’t they?’

  ‘Oh, they would’ve but were too busy with their jobs. Do you want to hire a cushion?’

  ‘No, I’m OK. So we are sitting, not standing in the pit?’

  ‘Maybe another time we can be groundlings. I thought I’d treat you on our first date.’

  First date: that sounded wonderful. ‘And so you should, Ace. What’ve you done with Joe?’

  ‘He’s meeting us later. He’s seeing friends.’

  They passed the lady checking tickets at the door and climbed up the wooden staircase that wound inside the circular walls of the Globe. Built to match the original Elizabethan theatre that had stood near this site, the Globe was a unique acting space, open to the elements just as it would have been in Shakespeare’s day. Raven was really excited to see it: the pictures on the web didn’t do it justice.

  ‘Oh, it’s so pretty!’ She leant over the railing. ‘I didn’t know the canopy above the stage was painted—wow—there are stars and zodiac creatures. And the thatched roof: that’s just so amazing.’

  ‘They made it as accurate as they could. A bit daft really considering the number of days of rain we get in London.’

  ‘But it’s only the groundlings who get wet and who cares about them?’ joked Raven.

  ‘Not us, not today, as we are in the posh seats.’

  ‘What are we seeing?’

  ‘The Winter’s Tale. Raging jealousy and women pretending to be statues. And there’s a great bear scene.’

  ‘Yeah, my all-time favourite stage direction.’

  Despite knowing about that, Raven had never read the play so wasn’t aware how it all unfolded. It was rather fun watching a Shakespeare play without foreknowledge of how it ended—fresher somehow. The acting was riveting, helping her over the more boring stretches; the intimate space of the wooden O involved every member of the audience with the cast. The only thing that annoyed her was the insipid heroine of the second half, Perdita. The play could’ve done with someone who was less of a doormat.

  After the prolonged applause at the curtain call, they rose to go, the rumbling thunder of audience feet descending the wooden staircases rolling through the acting space.

  ‘Verdict?’ asked Kieran.

  ‘Great show but I wanted to shake Perdita.’ She buttoned up her jacket.

  ‘Why? She’s supposed to be sweet and naive.’

  ‘Yeah, but she believed that guy was a shepherd when he was really a prince. I mean, c’mon, he was called Florizel! That should have been a warning. No girl can possibly fall in love with someone with such a stupid name.’

  Kieran smiled. ‘I think Shakespeare was referring to the Jacobean love of Arcadian poetry. These weren’t smelly peasants but idealized classical figures.’

  ‘But strip away the silly names and you get a guy lying to a sappy girl.’

  ‘He does tell her the truth eventually.’

  ‘Yeah, but only after she’s fallen in love with him.’

  ‘Well, I enjoyed it,’ Kieran said briskly as they walked out into the sunshine.

  ‘So did I—I can’t help getting involved. Just ignore me.’

  ‘I’d never ignore you, Raven. You have my full attention.’

  A flock of pigeons scattered in front of them, the downdraft of their wings wafting her hair. Crowds massed in the pavement under the blue summer sky; language students all wearing the same orange backpacks occupied the South Bank taking photos of the theatre, so that Londoners had a struggle to get through them. The city had surrendered to the invaders without putting up a fight.

  ‘The acting was first class.’ Kieran tucked her hand in his.

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘Amazing: you agree with me on something!’ He tapped her nose. ‘Is that a first?’

  ‘Don’t push it, pal. I’m not going to be making a habit of it.’

  He sighed and shook his head. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

  She raised one eyebrow. ‘Kiss me again, maybe?’

  He put his finger under her chin to tip her head up. ‘That’s an excellent suggestion and a second point of agreement.’

  ‘Kieran? Kieran? Is that you?’

  Startled, Raven took a step back. Kieran froze, his eyes screwed shut. The pigeon woman from earlier pushed through the Italian school party and dumped her shopping bag of booze by his feet. She did not look like someone Kieran would know: her mass of badly dyed black hair tumbled from a red scarf, her lids were heavily rimmed with kohl, her skin slathered with too much foundation so that it had caught in the lines around her eyes and mouth. As for her clothes, if the black skirt was any shorter she would be arrested.

  ‘Hey, baby, it’s me. I’ve been dying to see you but Isaac wouldn’t tell me where you are. I’ve been coming to the YDA every day hoping to run in to you.’ Her voice was hoarse, like she’d gargled pebbles.

  Kieran moved to put himself between Raven and the woman.

  ‘I’m sorry but I can’t speak now. I’m with someone.’

  ‘I can see, baby. I won’t keep you long.’ The woman peered round Kieran’s shoulder. ‘She looks very sweet. Works for Isaac too does she—one of your students of crime at your college?’ The woman held out her hand to Raven, each finger weighed down with rings. ‘Hi, honey. I’m Gloria, Kieran’s mum.’

  His mother? Automatically, Raven shook her hand.

  ‘Mother. Please.’ Kieran sounded desperate.

  Raven didn’t know what to think: she’d expected him to deny it but it seemed Pigeon Lady was what she said. How had that happened?

  Gloria smiled at Raven, swaying slightly. From the smell coming from her breath, she had begun her drinking early, or maybe never stopped. ‘He’s ashamed of me, poor baby. Doesn’t like to be seen with his mum.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘But he’s my only one left to me—the only one who loves me since his shit of a father ran out on us.’ She gave a half-hiccup, half-sob. ‘Don’t turn your back on me too, baby—I couldn’t bear that.’

  Raven glanced up at Kieran. He looked cold, completely unmoved by his mother’s pleas. She was so pathetic; Raven didn’t know why he wasn’t rushing to help her, but he probably had his reasons. Clearly, a very complicated history here and she’d just been dropped right in the middle of it.

  ‘This isn’t the place for this.’ His voice was clipped, allowing no emotion to seep through.

  ‘It’s OK, Kieran, if you need time with her, I can … um … go to a coffee bar or something,’ Raven offered.

  ‘I don’t need time with her.’

  Raven winced at his cruel tone. This wasn’t a Kieran she knew. In fact, she had been brought slap up against the reality that she didn’t know him at all.

  Gloria gripped his forearm with her chipped multicoloured nails. ‘I won’t spoil your evening. You go have fun—that’s all I ever wanted you know—for you to be OK. The YDA is your big chance—I understand. But … but I’m short again, baby. Can you give me the fare home?’

  ‘How much this time?’ Kieran took out his wallet.

  ‘I know Isaac pays you well for your work for him,’ she wheedled, eyes on the notes he had in the pocket. ‘Fifty quid?’


  He took out all his money and thrust three twenties at her. As she flicked through the notes to check the amount, he began walking towards the nearest underground station, towing Raven along with him.

  ‘Love you, baby,’ Gloria called. ‘See you again soon?’

  As Kieran didn’t reply, Raven turned to give her an apologetic wave for her son’s abrupt departure. Gloria was watching him with agonizing longing on her face.

  ‘Don’t,’ snarled Kieran.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t look at her.’

  ‘But she’s your mother!’

  ‘She’s nothing to me.’ He swiped his ticket at the barrier with the desperation of someone fleeing a fire.

  ‘That can’t be true.’

  ‘Just … just drop it, Raven. I can’t talk about this.’

  She stood beside him on the platform, no longer touching, anger burning down the gunpowder trail to a keg of explosive emotion. It didn’t take a genius to know that his relationship with his mother was a broken one, but how did that square with Kieran’s spiel about his parents being too busy with their jobs to visit Westron, and Joe’s claim that Kieran came from a posh family? Gloria’s accent suggested pure London, no aristocratic upbringing, and she was a highly unlikely candidate for employment. Who did that make his father?

  Another of Gloria’s comments came to mind.

  ‘Kieran, who’s Isaac? Is he your dad?’ Maybe he would redeem himself by setting the record straight for her?

  Kieran watched the train announcement board count down to the arrival of their service. ‘Forget she mentioned him. Forget everything she said. It’s not important.’

  But it was. ‘I only asked if he was your father.’

  ‘No, he’s not my father. He’s my friend.’

  ‘A friend you work for. Doing what? What’s the YDA and why did she say you studied crime?’ No reply. She tried to piece together what he had told her about himself. ‘Was that the school you got expelled from?’

  Kieran turned on her, his hands were shaking. ‘Can’t you just leave it alone, Raven? Must you stick your nose in to my private business? That woman is my biological mother but she lost the chance to be anything more a long time ago. I have nothing to do with her. If you want to be with me, then you won’t mention her again.’