by cass green
Once off the first bus, Angel looks up at the sky and sees there is a brightening beneath it, the sun starting to burn through.
She has plenty of time and the smells of other humans on the bus were starting to get to her, so she decides to walk the rest of the way to the police station, along the canal. This morning’s weirdness seems to have stopped anyway, which is either good news or bad news. She has no idea which.
Maybe a walk will help her clear her head about it all.
Angel crosses the road and heads down the stone steps to the towpath. She slowly ambles along the river and under the bridge, her footsteps ringing out.
The heavy footfall behind her seems to come from nowhere.
She doesn’t even have time to turn round before the blow lands.
50
Lucas
When Lucas was five and Angel eight, his sister had gone for her first sleepover with someone from school.
She had been annoying about it for days, telling her brother that she was going to be given as much cake and chocolate as she wanted to eat, and be allowed to stay up until one in the morning if she wanted to. Lucas remembered how brightly the envy had burned at his sister’s exciting life.
This was in the time before Quinn entered their lives. Lucas remembers only a normal dull evening of fish fingers and spaghetti hoops in front of Brookside, which Marianne loved because she came from Liverpool.
Those kind of good/boring evenings, lacking in drama, became something he craved later. But at the time, they were the fabric of his day-to-day existence. Later that night, though, Lucas had woken with sharp pains in his stomach. He hadn’t made it across the coarse blue carpet of his bedroom before the sour sick was pumping out of him.
He called for Marianne and she came quickly, looking sleepy and concerned, before swiftly getting Lucas into the bathroom and beginning the process of cleaning him up.
But what he remembered most, as he sat shivering in the bathroom that was never warm enough, was that he felt instantly better in his stomach after the evilness had been expelled. What was worse, though, was that he suddenly wanted his sister more than anyone in the world and had begun to cry in a way that Marianne couldn’t understand or begin to placate.
He hadn’t been mortally scared before then. That was a feeling he would wear like a heavy coat in the years to come, but for now, this corrosive dread was something new.
Marianne had been annoyed with him when he said, ‘Something’s wrong with Angel.’ It had frightened her and once she was sure he wasn’t going to be sick again, she had told him off for being silly and then brought him into bed with her, where he lay wide awake, like an ice block for most of the night.
When the phone rang at five am, Lucas hadn’t been surprised at all. He had quietly gone back to his room and got dressed, while his mother spoke on the phone to the mother of Angel’s friend, Soraya.
She said that Angel seemed to be very sick and they had called an ambulance and Marianne should meet them there.
Marianne had given Lucas a strange, wild-eyed look, then kissed the top of his head and called him a clever boy.
Lucas is now lying awake on the top bunk in his cell, shivering so hard his jaw hurts. His body is coated in a slimy cold sweat and his stomach is roiling as though he is at sea.
He had been dreaming about his sister. She had been sitting in the cell with him and taking the piss about how lazy he was lately. It was nice. It felt so real, especially when she grimaced at the toilet in the cell and made jokes about what she called the Wanking Russian.
But then, out of nowhere, she opened her mouth and began to scream at the top of her voice. Lucas couldn’t make her stop. She just carried on screaming, her face quite impassive, almost curious.
He rubs his sweaty face now. He can’t shake the dirty remnants of the dream away, like they are cobwebs that cling to him.
Angel.
He sits up in bed, as far as he can without banging his head, and leans on his elbows. He is wide awake and can hear the loud nasal rumble of his room companion’s snoring below so the whole frame of the bed vibrates with it.
What has he done? He has disappeared inside himself here and let his sister deal with everything alone. And now he can’t shake off the feeling that something bad is happening to her. Something he should be able to stop.
The feeling is intolerable and the room seems to shrink around him, encasing him in a tomb. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and dangles his feet down, leaning forward with his head in his hands and trying to slow his galloping heartbeat and shallow breathing.
The sharp slap against the sole of his foot is a surprise.
‘The fuck you doing?’ says the Russian, his already gravelly voice even coarser with sleep. ‘Is middle of fucking night. Lie the fuck down before I cut you throat.’
Lucas forces himself to lie back again and stares up at the ceiling. Lights stream in around the edges of the door. It’s never dark here.
He starts to think about that night. How Marianne had been full of wonder the next day and claimed Lucas had a ‘premonition’ about his sister’s appendicitis. It had only happened that one time.
But he can’t get it out of his head now.
Angel. There’s something wrong.
51
Nina
Sam’s almost home.
Only an hour until they touch down at Heathrow. I think they will probably get here about three, allowing for traffic on the M25. I thought about meeting them at the airport, but concluded it would be too strange, seeing them looking like a family. So, I decided that the best thing would be to make the house feel as welcoming as possible.
I can’t wait to see my boy. The fridge is stuffed with all his favourite things, from Pepsi Max to fresh mango to jumbo hotdogs for dinner.
I don’t care if he’s had unhealthy stuff on holiday. If anything, he’s more likely to have been force-fed sophisticated adult food from what I’ve heard. Well, there will be no moules or fois gras here. It’s going to be wall-to-wall comfort food if that’s what he wants. He’s not the only one who might be craving it.
I need all the comfort I can get, right now.
I’ve been busy cleaning bathrooms and hoovering and now I’m having a quick sandwich in front of the lunchtime news on the telly. It’s just for company, really; a new, rather tragic habit. The local news reporter talks about a robbery at a betting shop and then about a violent mugging on the canal. The suspect was captured on a CCTV camera and there is a shot of his face, quite clear, but I am distracted and don’t pay much attention. They move on to a story about a woman celebrating her hundred and tenth birthday.
I switch it off. I’ll stop having this need for noise when Sam’s home. It will be so good to have him back under this roof again. I need normality and a boy’s chatter to exorcise the ghosts still lingering after That Night. Hopefully it will stop me obsessing about it all.
I’ve already put all the paper from that strange feverish research in the recycling bin. I’m telling myself that if I do ordinary things, then I’ll stop thinking about it all the time. It isn’t really working, but having Sam home will help, I’m sure it will. I just need to resume my life, and to stop going over things I can’t change and don’t really understand.
That’s not even to mention the ridiculous thing that happened with Ian. I bitterly regret what we did. But more than anything, I find myself despising him a bit for it. Make up your mind about what you want. Stupid man.
In Sam’s bedroom, I dump the pile of clean bedding on his chair and then lift off his blue and white Chelsea duvet from the bed. As I begin to unsnap the buttons on the cover, something flutters to my feet. I reach down and pick up the unfamiliar photo, puzzled for a moment. This isn’t Sam’s. Then realization dawns.
Lucas lay down in here. That night, or rather morning.
It’s a Polaroid picture, which gives it even more of a retro feel than its mere age should. But there is something about t
he lighting too, bleached a little and faded by handling.
It shows a woman perhaps in her thirties and two children; quite recognizably Angel and Lucas. Angel is mugging furiously; standing on one leg and thrusting the other out to the side, bony knees emerging from red shorts. Her hair is short and bushy and she looks like a handful, but also enormous fun.
Lucas was clearly an adorable little boy. He is giggling; his two front teeth are missing and the curve inwards of his skinny little chest suggests the woman’s hand on his chest is tickling him. He looks like he is squirming with pleasure. There is a shaggy old Golden Retriever at his feet.
I sit down on the bed and study the woman. Marianne, I think Angel said she was called.
She was very beautiful, with thick honey-blonde hair and wide eyes. Dressed in a short pink sundress she looks so fresh and young. A slow wave of sadness washes over me at the thought of her taking her own life. And for Lucas to find her. No wonder he is such a messed-up person, and Angel too.
This photo must be very special to him and I hate to think that he was lying in this bed looking at it, maybe before he did that crazy thing on the road. I wish there was some way I could get it back to him. Maybe when the trial happens, I might find a way to pass it to the defence team …
The very thought of going to court makes me want to be sick. I’ve been warned it may be months and months until it happens. With a sigh, I put the photo in the pocket of my jeans and start changing Sam’s bed. But all the energy I had for his homecoming is turning in the wrong direction now and I can feel my mind being yanked obsessively back onto its usual hamster-wheel.
What if Lucas goes to prison for a murder he didn’t commit? And Nick Quinn gets to carry on as he has always done, possibly going on to hurt more women and ruin more lives? Zach might be living with his grandmother for now, but the time may come when he goes back into that house.
When he learns how to be a man from Nick Quinn.
I quickly stuff the duvet into a new cover and pillows into fresh cases. After snapping a new fitted sheet onto the bed, I pick up the dirty bedding and take it to the laundry basket on the landing. My mind is whirring with an idea that has brought a storm of butterflies to my stomach. I know I must leave it alone.
But there’s still ages until Sam gets back. I’ve got plenty of time.
The thing is, I’m certain that Nooria woman knew something she wasn’t saying.
I can just make one last attempt to speak to her. She may not even be there now that the baby has gone off with his grandmother. If she is there, she might slam the door in my face. I have to try, though.
I’ll have one last go. There’s no harm. Then I’ll leave it alone and wait for a chance to speak in court. Move on with my life.
As I hurry down the stairs, I decide this will be the dividing line of my summer; a demarcation line between the horrible dark events of that night and my normal life as a schoolteacher and mother to Sam. I’ll be able to enjoy hanging out with my son much more if I know I really did try to make this right.
Grabbing my car keys and handbag, I make for the front door. As I’m about to leave, though, I think of something.
It’s still there; the scrap of paper with Angel’s mobile number on it.
I know I shouldn’t contact her – for all the reasons she couldn’t be here in my house. But I need her to know that things have changed in my mind. It feels important that she knows someone is at least beginning to believe her.
I’ll send her a quick text, let her know that I am going to speak to Nooria, and then I’ll go over there and have one last attempt at making things right before Sam comes home and my life is able to move on.
52
Lucas
Lucas can see the slight surprise on his solicitor’s face as he is led into the room. He hopes it is because he is properly awake and on his game. But, equally, it might be that he looks even worse than when they last met.
Shah looks immaculate in a charcoal suit and pale blue shirt, smelling of an aftershave Lucas recognizes but can’t name. Lucas feels disgusting in comparison and hates that his body slightly reacts with attraction to the other man. Another consequence of coming off the drugs, he supposes.
For the last couple of days now he’s been refusing the diazepam he has been offered and, even though the panic is swirling like an oily pool just below the surface, he knows he must stay on top of things.
‘Did you find out anything about my sister?’ he says after they shake hands and sit down at the Formica-topped table.
Shah frowns as he pulls papers out of his brown leather briefcase and places them neatly before him.
‘I’m afraid all I know,’ he says, frowning, ‘is that she didn’t check in to the police station yesterday as she was due to.’
Lucas feels an icy tickle up the back of his neck.
‘What do you mean, didn’t check in?’
Shah’s dark eyes look serious as he gazes back at Lucas. ‘As part of her conditions for bail,’ he says, ‘she is required to report to the police station twice a week. It seems this didn’t happen yesterday. I expect if she doesn’t go in today, then she’s going to be in serious trouble.’
Lucas sits forward and places both his hands down on the table to stop them shaking.
‘I think something has happened to her,’ he says. ‘I can feel it.’
Shah’s expression doesn’t suggest that he thinks Lucas is an idiot, for which Lucas feels immense gratitude.
‘Well,’ says Shah after a moment. ‘I’ll find out for you whether she goes in today. Let you know if I hear anything, OK?’ He pauses. ‘Try not to worry, Lucas,’ he says. ‘There’s absolutely nothing you can do from here. I’m sure she’s OK. But your sister will find herself in prison if she breaks the terms of her bail, I’m afraid.’
Lucas’s mind is whirring. It would be just like Angel to stick a finger up to the police and take off. At least it would if it were just her in trouble. But when he is already in prison and about to go on trial for a murder he didn’t commit? No. Something isn’t sitting right here.
Shah begins to sort through his bundle of papers, lifting a sheet to the top.
‘So,’ he says, ‘we have the date of the plea hearing. It will be next Monday, the twenty-fifth.’ He slides the paper towards Lucas, but Lucas doesn’t look at it. Shah continues, patiently. ‘At this hearing,’ he says, ‘the charges against you will be heard and you will get the opportunity to make a plea of guilty or not guilty, which we can talk through. The date for the actual trial will be set then too.’ He pauses. ‘Do you want to ask me anything so far?’
Lucas’s stomach is churning. He nods slightly.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘There’s still time then?’
Shah frowns. ‘What do you mean, exactly?’ he says. ‘Time?’
‘To tell you the truth,’ says Lucas. ‘About what really happened that night.’
53
Lucas
Lucas wasn’t working that day, which was just as well because the van was in the garage waiting for a new gearbox. All day he had felt restless and couldn’t really settle to anything. The ever-pressing heat didn’t help. He’d only seen her once or twice since the little boy had been born. She had stayed with her mother for a while afterwards. He’d made all the right noises when she showed him Zach for the first time, but it had felt too strange. He had quickly made himself scarce, citing urgent garden jobs.
When his phone buzzed with a text at seven pm he was lying on his bed, desultorily flicking through Facebook; something he did only very rarely.
It was from Alice. He sat up quickly and swung his legs round to sit on the side of the bed.
You here tomorrow? Ax the message read. Lucas had pressed his number on her some time ago, without explaining why she might need it, and they had exchanged a few texts about his working hours, but the kiss was something new. Entirely possible that it was a mistake and she was right now kicking herself, he thought.
He
hesitated and replied. Sorry. Van knackered and it wasn’t in the diary anyway. He added an L and contemplated adding an x, but decided against it.
The message showed as ‘read’, then Lucas watched the grey speech bubble with three dots pulsing on the screen, signifying that Alice was replying. But no message arrived. He waited for several minutes but still there was no response.
He let out a frustrated groan and glared down at the screen as if he could will the message into existence.
Had she deleted it before sending?
Before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped out another message:
Everything ok?
An agonizing few seconds passed before the bubble appeared again, this time followed by the words: Not really.
Lucas’s heart was thumping. He knew he may be overstepping the mark now, but he replied: Want me to come over?
He stared down at three floating bubbles for several long seconds then read, just: Yes x
It took almost two hours to get there, on three different buses. On the way he wondered whether he was making a terrible fool of himself.
When Alice opened the door, she gave a wan smile and said, ‘I shouldn’t have dragged you all the way over here,’ but without much conviction. She was wearing a baggy white jumper with a roll neck, even though the heat had been an assault all day. Her face was pale and drawn, her lips dry-looking and chapped. She kept gnawing on them and bringing her hand with its small blunt fingers to her cheek and then away as though brushing something unseen away. Her hair looked greasy at the roots.
They went through to the kitchen, which looked so clean it was though no one had used it for days.
Zach was in his Moses basket on the table, his face turned to the side, so he was all curved cheek. Alice grimaced and lifted a finger to her lips and then seesawed her hand. Clearly, things could still go either way on the nap front.
She gestured for Lucas to go with her through to the sitting room, a place that had put Lucas on edge the few times he had peered in there. He much preferred the large kitchen, generally Alice’s favoured place to hang out too, it seemed, from the amount of time she spent there.
