Next of Kin

by Welfare, Sue

  ‘Oh yes, I’m certain. He said, “If you help me then I will help you”.’

  ‘And by help he meant you marrying him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘More or less the same as Ryan had said, that if I agreed to marry him that it would only be a piece of paper. Just a formality, he said. And that it would save me.’

  ‘Save you? Is that what he said? Didn’t that strike you as an odd thing to say?’

  ‘I suppose so, but I didn’t really think about it till later. He just said we needed to make sure it stood up to scrutiny. People would need to believe it was the real deal. Not a sham. All I had to do was say yes and marry him and everything else could be taken care of.’

  ‘And you’re certain that that’s what he said? For the benefit of the tape could you say yes or no, please, Sarah, rather than nod?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure that that’s what he said. All I had to do was marry him.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘I can’t,’ said Sarah. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t. Please, Woody, can’t you just lend me the money? I’ll pay you any amount of interest that you want and as soon as we sell the house I’ll pay you back. Every last penny. Please, Woody. I’m not like Ryan. You know that your money would be safe with me. We can have a proper legal contract drawn up if you don’t trust me. Can’t we come to some sort of an arrangement?’

  ‘I do trust you, and this is my arrangement,’ he said, his gaze not leaving hers. ‘We get married, you get your money and I get to stay here.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Sarah said again, but this time she sounded and felt less sure, less certain. It was just a piece of paper said a tiny insistent voice in her head, a voice that sounded uncannily like Ryan’s.

  Woody shrugged. ‘Okay. It’s up to you. It’s very simple. I can help you out, I can pay Ryan’s loan off, but I won’t wait forever. I need to know your decision by tomorrow.’

  Sarah stared at him; she felt sick. ‘Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?’

  He smiled and drained his mug. ‘Because time is running out for me too, Sarah. I have things that need sorting out, things that need to be arranged. Things I need to do.’

  Sarah didn’t know what to say. This was crazy. ‘Okay,’ she said after a moment or two. ‘I understand that, but it’s a lot to take in. I need to think and I need to talk to Josh about it,’ she said. ‘He needs to know what’s going on. I just need to explain things to him and then we can maybe sort something out.’ She was playing for time, trying to work out some other solution – surely there had to be one?

  Woody’s expression hardened and he shook his head. ‘You can’t tell Josh about this. You can’t talk to anyone about this. Do you understand? If you tell anyone then the deal is off.’

  ‘What?’ gasped Sarah. ‘No, that’s not going to happen. He needs to know what’s going on.’

  ‘You heard me. You can’t tell anyone about this. Particularly not Josh. Do you understand?’ His tone was hard and uncompromising.

  ‘Why? Josh is my boyfriend. It would be easier to explain to him—’

  Woody shook his head. ‘Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.’

  Sarah stared at him. It felt like someone had reached into her chest and was crushing her heart in their fist. This couldn’t be happening, Sarah thought. It felt as if she had walked into someone else’s life or onto the set of a soap opera. ‘But I can’t do that, Woody. I can’t. I love Josh. He’s going to move in here with me.’

  Woody shook his head. ‘No, he isn’t, not if you want the money. Not if you want Ryan off the hook. My offer is very straightforward, Sarah. We get married and I will pay off Ryan’s debt. That is it, take it, or leave it.’

  During their conversation there had been a subtle shift in Woody’s demeanour, the way he stood, the way he spoke to her. Sarah stared at him, trying to fathom what he was thinking, why he was doing this, and what had changed.

  ‘I don’t understand why you won’t just lend me the money. I mean I’d have no trouble paying you back if you’re just prepared to wait a while. Won’t you at least consider it, please?’

  Before Woody replied there was a knock at the front door. Sarah got to her feet to go and answer it.

  ‘Wait,’ snapped Woody, catching hold of her arm.

  ‘It’s all right; it’s probably just Josh. I rang him on the way back from the hospital,’ Sarah said, shaking him off, but there was something in Woody’s tone that stopped her from heading out into the hall. Her earlier fear seeped back like a chill and she stood very still. ‘What’s the matter?’ she whispered.

  Whoever it was knocked again, a little harder this time and Woody held a finger to his lips. Sarah stared at him, her pulse quickening. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. The knocking became louder and then louder still till it was a banging and a kicking and Sarah couldn’t bear it and clamped her hand to her ears, terrified that the door might give way and break – and then what would they do?

  ‘Is the back gate locked?’ hissed Woody.

  Sarah swung round and peered out into the darkness beyond the kitchen windows, trying to remember if she’d locked the gate before she went out to work, her heart starting to race now as the adrenaline kicked in. ‘I think so,’ she stammered. ‘I’m sure I did.’

  ‘Good.’ Woody nodded.

  Sarah reached across the table and grabbed her handbag.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ whispered Woody, as she started to search through it.

  ‘I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, holding up a hand to still her. ‘It’ll only make things worse. And they’ll never get here in time. Just shut up and keep quiet.’

  After a moment or two more the banging stopped. Sarah wasn’t sure that the silence wasn’t worse, and then someone shouted through the letterbox.

  ‘No good you hiding, bitch. We know you is in there.’ The voice was male, sing-song, taunting, streetwise.

  ‘No point you thinking we can’t see you, cos’ we can. We know where you is. We know where you work, where you live, we know where you go,’ said the man, his tone sounded as if he was teasing, and that the threat was some kind of a sick joke. ‘We can get you anytime we want, any time we choose. Any time. You remember that.’

  Sarah stood rooted to the spot, her hands clenched into fists, curled so tight that her nails dug into her palms. Woody lifted his finger to his lips again, as if there was any chance she was going to say something.

  ‘You got two weeks, bitch,’ said the man outside her front door. ‘Two weeks and then we’re coming to get you and that dipstick brother of yours. You hear what I’m saying? Two weeks and then you pay, one way or another.’ With that the letterbox dropped.

  And then it was quiet, all except for the beating of Sarah’s heart, so loud now that she was sure Woody could hear it. When, after a few more minutes, she was sure they had gone Sarah up ended her bag onto the kitchen table and snatched up the phone.

  ‘Are you totally crazy?’ snapped Woody.

  ‘No, no I’m not. I don’t care what you say, I’m calling the police,’ she said. ‘This is my home.’ Her voice cracked with emotion. Her hands shook. ‘I can’t live like this, they can’t threaten me, they can’t; it’s ridiculous. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

  Woody grabbed her wrist. ‘Don’t. It’ll make things worse.’

  She spun round to confront him. ‘What do you mean, don’t? You can’t tell me what to do. I’m being threatened in my own home by the same thugs that nearly killed my brother. How can it make things any worse if I get them arrested? Tell me.’

  He didn’t move. Sarah snatched her hand away and fumbled to unlock the phone, fingers trembling.

  ‘I’ll sort it out,’ he said.

  Sarah glanced up. ‘How can you sort it out? Aren’t these the same guys who you were frightened of?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, but I know them,’ he said. ‘I know w
hat they’re like. I know what they want.’

  Sarah stared at him. ‘And that’s going to help?’

  ‘I’ll talk to them. If you go to the police it will make it worse. Promise me.’

  ‘You keep saying that. If you know who they are why don’t you just give the police their names and stop them? How the hell can it get any worse than it already is?’

  ‘Believe me it can get a lot worse than this.’

  ‘So what am I supposed to do?’ she said. In her hand the phone screen shut down.

  ‘Marry me,’ Woody said. ‘Please, Sarah. I will make sure that they don’t ever come round here again. I promise you. Just say you’ll do it. I’ll make all this go away.’

  Sarah laughed and then, when she realised that he was deadly serious, said, ‘I don’t want to marry you, Woody, I love Josh.’

  Woody nodded and then took a piece of paper from his pocket and set it down on the table alongside the mug of tea.

  ‘Let me know what you decide tomorrow,’ he said, and turning away headed back upstairs.

  ‘What if they come back?’ she called after him.

  ‘They won’t,’ he said, without looking round.

  When her phone started to ring she almost jumped out of her skin. Sarah glanced at the caller id: it was Josh. She pressed the button to decline the call, hoping he would think she was still at the hospital, and then she text him:

  ‘Sorry. Can’t talk now. Love, S x’, she typed and then pressed send.

  And then Sarah picked up the piece of paper that Woody had left and unfolded it. It was a cheque for twenty thousand pounds, unsigned, but made out in her name. Sarah dropped it as if it was on fire.

  Sarah

  ‘What did you do with the cheque?

  ‘I left it on the table.’

  ‘And do you know what happened to it?’

  ‘No, it was gone in the morning.’

  ‘So did you call Josh after your conversation with Woody?’

  ‘And say what? No, I didn’t. In the end I text him again later just to say that I was okay, just tired and that I was going to go straight to bed.’

  ‘And what did Josh do?’

  ‘He text me back to say that he loved me and if there was anything I needed or wanted all I had to do was call. And he wished me sweet dreams.’

  ‘You didn’t mention Woody’s offer?’

  ‘No, I didn’t know what to say to him and Woody had made it crystal clear that I wasn’t to tell anyone about our arrangement.’

  ‘But you could have? The police, Josh – friends?’

  ‘You weren’t there. You say Woody’s offer like I had some kind of a choice but it wasn’t like that. It didn’t sound like an offer; it sounded more like a threat.’

  Chapter Ten

  They could both hear the phone ringing. Sarah glanced over her shoulder towards the closed bathroom door but said nothing.

  ‘Do you want to go and get that?’ Ryan asked when it was obvious that whoever it was wasn’t going to ring off. ‘I don’t mind if you want to go and answer it. I can manage in here now. Really.’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘No, you can’t, and it’s fine. A couple more rings and the machine will cut in. If it’s important they’ll leave a message. Are you ready?’

  Ryan nodded. It was a few days later. The hospital had kept him in to make sure that he was stable: make sure his brain didn’t swell, make sure that the damage to his eye wasn’t permanent, not that Sarah had talked to him about that.

  She had taken time off to drive to Addenbrookes and pick him up, helping him gingerly into the car, trying to strap him in without hurting him. He’d been home long enough to eat, long enough to say that he hadn’t had a bath since the night he was admitted to hospital. Long enough to make Sarah’s heart ache. There was so much she needed to say to him but it didn’t feel like now was the right moment, although if not now, then when?

  Climbing the stairs to the bathroom Ryan had moved like an old man. She had helped him off with his clothes, dropping the ones he had brought home with him, crisp with dried blood, grease and gravel into the dirty washing basket.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘If you’re sure that you’re ready. The water’s not too hot. I’m just worried that it’s going to hurt.’

  Ryan laughed grimly. ‘I’ll be fine. Just go for it,’ he said.

  ‘Tell me if it’s too much.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will.’

  He was perched on the edge of the bath, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Sarah stared at his body. It was hard not to, although she felt uncomfortable seeing him as good as naked. He was muscular, tanned golden brown from working outdoors with his shirt off. The last time Sarah had helped Ryan into the bath he had been a little boy, six, seven maybe, certainly not a man. But the sight of a mass of bruises and cuts offset her self-consciousness and discomfort. Ryan’s body was a mess, a war zone.

  Gently, Sarah peeled away the great wad of dressings from his shoulders and back, trying hard not to hurt him, trying hard not to cry, trying hard not to be angry or to scream at him for being so stupid. There was so much that needed to be said, but for the moment the screaming stayed on the inside.

  Since Ryan had been attacked she had barely been able to sleep or eat or think about anything else; every thought, every moment of every day she found her mind being dragged back to Ryan, and Josh, and the money and the men banging on her door, and Woody and his proposition.

  After all he was right, when it came right down to it; what choice did she have? How could she ever be safe again while Ryan owed so much? Sarah turned the thoughts over and over and over in her head, and when she was asleep she dreamt about it. In her dreams the men were banging on the door, breaking in through the windows, tearing up her home, setting fire to the house, beating her and far, far worse. She was exhausted.

  Ryan gasped. Here and there the scrapes and grazes had wept and glued the fabric pads to Ryan’s skin. He winced as she eased them off and dropped them into the bin.

  ‘How’re you doing?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘I already told you I’m fine. I’m looking forward to getting into the bath.’

  ‘Just a couple more to go,’ she said. ‘And I‘ve put some salt in the water. As well as bubbles, not so much that it’ll sting but it’ll help clean the cuts and those grazes.’ Sarah had left the big dressing across his lower back until last.

  ‘Last time I put you in the bath you were about six,’ she said, trying hard to keep the shock and the despair out of her voice. It felt like she had been looking out for Ryan all her life. It wasn’t going to do either of them any good if she caved in now. ‘Come on; let’s get you in the bath.’ She made the effort to sound bright and competent, as he got to his feet.

  ‘That’s it, just hang on to me, that’s it, gently now, gently,’ Sarah said, taking his towel as she tried to support him, trying to find a part of him that didn’t look as if it might hurt, while all the while trying not to stare at the livid bruises, the angry purple patterns of trainer soles stamped into his skin, or the scrapes and the cuts. The expression of pain on his face made her flinch with him, as she helped him over the edge and took some of his weight as he lowered himself very slowly into the warm water.

  ‘God, that feels so good,’ he sighed, letting out a long slow breath as the warm bubbly water sucked him down. ‘Oh yes, that is fantastic.’

  ‘You’ll be all right now?’ Sarah asked, looking away. ‘I won’t be very far away if you need me, just give me a shout when you want to get out. And there’s a plastic jug on the side there if you want to wash your hair or do you need me to do it?’

  Ryan shook his head. ‘No, I’m good to go now,’ he said, letting himself sink even lower into a sea of bubbles. Sarah looked back at him as she picked the towel up and hung it up on the back of the door. ‘I’ve put your robe on the chair,’ she said. ‘And I wondered, are you going to be staying in the house or are you going back downstairs? I could make up the
spare room if you wanted me to?’

  ‘I just want to get back to my own place really,’ he said. ’Sleep in my own bed.’

  In spite of everything Sarah was relieved that Ryan was back home. His face was a mess. His body wasn’t much better, although his clothes seemed to have saved him to some extent. He looked tired and lost and vulnerable. The steam from the hot water had twisted his sun-kissed hair into ringlets.

  ‘Downstairs, back in my flat,’ he continued. ‘I need to get some sleep, and get back to normal.’

  Normal. What a joke. What was normal now, she thought grimly.

  ‘Sarah,’ he said, as she opened the bathroom door.

  ‘Yes? What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  Ryan didn’t turn round, his voice was low and even and she didn’t know how to reply, so instead she turned to stare at him, but it appeared that Ryan’s attention had moved back to his bath, he was tipping his head back, letting himself slide lower down in amongst the bubbles, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Something flared white hot in her stomach. Thank you? Was that all? It felt like she had been dismissed. There were so many things that Sarah wanted to say to him, so many things that she didn’t know where to start.

  With the words all crammed up in her throat, Sarah hurried out onto the landing and downstairs, tears rolling down her face. Thank you? Did Ryan mean for the bath or for what she had agreed to do for him? Had he any idea of the position he had put her in? And worse still what choice did she have but to go through with what Woody was proposing if she didn’t want Farouk’s thugs to kill Ryan or for her to end up like him, or worse?

  Sarah turned slowly and went back upstairs. When she opened the bathroom door Ryan was lying on the bottom of the tub, with his knees bent and his head submerged beneath the water. As she came in he exploded up from beneath the bubbles, sweeping the water back over his face and hair with both hands.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, now what?’ he said, sounding annoyed. ‘I’m fine, all right? I was just having a soak. I’ll give you a shout if there’s anything I want. Didn’t I just say that? You can go and get on with whatever it is you do.’