“But then again, it’s not that stupid an idea, it might work; and more to the point, you wouldn’t get another chance. Because if they’d said no, or ‘come back next year’ or whatever, you might not have stuck around with us, and the moment would have passed. I didn’t want your moment to pass, Daisy.”
“You must have loved her so much!” Daisy blurted out. “You must have!”
He laughed. “Oh, I did, and I don’t regret one moment of my time with her. She was the girl I loved, and I got to be with her. I got what I wanted and there’s many people who can’t say that.”
“You really loved her,” said Daisy again, and Aiden nodded and put down his mug, and closed his eyes, and Daisy could see the moisture collect and fall, down his cheeks and she came and she put an arm around his shoulder and drew him to herself, and they sat in silence for a few moments. She thought he was going to speak again when he moved slightly; but instead his whole body shook, and he began to cry.
He stayed like this for long minutes and she felt the tears on her shoulder, the moisture on her tee shirt, and compassion welled up within her like something waking from a long deep sleep, and she felt a kind of love for this man. It was a love she had never felt before. She supposed this was what people called compassion, and she was amazed that such a feeling could exist in a world that, until recently, had seemed so hollow and uncaring to her.
16
On the evening that Alex was supposed to have dinner with Lewis, a storm of such ferocity blew in across the city that she was tempted to stay at home, close the curtains and camp on the sofa for the evening.
But she found within herself that she did not want to stay at home.
If her visit had been purely business, a discussion of strategy or a review of figures, then she would have done just that. She would have called him, full of apologies, talked matters over on the phone, and stayed in the warm. But somehow she knew that this was more than business; what else it was, she did not know, but she did want to visit him.
She was getting dressed for the evening when the rain had started. The wind picked up, the clouds gathered, and then the water drops fell, and soon those drops turned to hail and fell with a thunderous power that drowned out everything else.
As she looked at the different outfits spread across her bed, the phone rang. After years as a PA, Alex had developed the habit of reacting quickly to a ringing phone and she ran into her lounge, unclothed, but aware that the curtains were drawn against the storm outside.
“Hi, this is Alex.”
“Alex, it’s Lewis, I was wondering whether you still wanted to come over; I don’t know what the weather is like where you are but it’s blowing a gale here.”
Before she could answer, the whole room was suddenly lit by two flickers of lightning, illuminating everything – the furniture, walls, mantelpiece – all revealed for a moment in silhouette. She paused before speaking.
“Of course I still want to come over,” she was interrupted by a deep rolling rumble of thunder, “I’m just getting changed; I’ll be with you soon.”
“Are you sure about that? We can re-schedule,” said Lewis.
“No I want to come,” she said, “and I’ll see you later.”
Alex was on the main road heading out of the city when the rain really started to come down hard, smashing against her windscreen. Through frantic wipers she could just make out the smudged images of red taillights in front of her. The storm made such a racket in the car that she switched off the radio and concentrated on driving.
For some reason, which she could not fathom, she was feeling sad. It wasn’t the prospect of an evening with Lewis; that was something she was looking forward to, it was something else.
She searched her mind, and her heart and she remembered her parents, and her sadness crystalized around the memory of them. She thought about Daisy, and the damage that had been done to her, and Conner, abused by some anonymous assailant, and Bridget, who, like her parents, had paid the ultimate price.
Why did life have to be so hard? Why was it all so unfair?
But there was no good answer to these questions and at some level she knew she had to accept that this was how things were. But God had placed a defiance in her, it manifested itself in the desire to resist the despair and the weariness, and in the face of it all, to lament, to be kind, to have courage and to love.
In the safety of the noise of her car, she opened her mouth and spoke out.
“I will not give in, and give up; no.” She repeated the word again and again, gradually louder: “No. No. NO.”
She felt like a child trying out a new toy. Then she screamed, with all of the sound that she could muster against the cacophony around her.
“NO!”
And the rain crashed again into her line of sight and the traffic continued at a steady crawl.
By her side but outside the car, Angel observed her, sensing her pain and her passion. He wasn’t unduly concerned. She was suffering and learning, and somehow this was as it should be. She had travelled through a furnace of experience, and it had not consumed her; rather it had purified her, and made her strong.
Neither was he as worried about this visit to Lewis Ashbury as he might have been. Angel was no fool, of course; he could perceive the emotional, and even sexual tension that ran between these two. He could see these things clearly in Alex that she could only just perceive herself, feelings and desires she did not want to admit to, let alone face and process. He could see these deep things within her as easily as he could penetrate the rain and glass and metal and watch her physically, sitting in this car as it moved along the road. He listened to her utter that single word, “no”, and he heard her scream, and he felt just a tiny fraction of the compassion that God felt for her now.
Finally, her car rumbled over the wet gravel in front of Lewis’ house. The wind of the storm had eased away, but the rain still fell. Alex stopped the car, switched the engine off, and bowed her head. She whispered a prayer of thankfulness for a safe journey, the rain still sounded as if a thousand birds were pecking and scampering just above her head.
She picked up her bag and her coat and stepped out of the car, avoiding a puddle of water. She could smell the scent of the rain on the plants and in the earth around her and feel the water drops pattering onto her head, so she hurried up to the front door and pressed the bell. A heavy drop of water fell from some creeping ivy arranged around the lintel and slipped in between the collar of her blouse and the back of her neck; the shock of the cold moisture made her shiver.
“Come on, Lewis,” she whispered.
After a few moments she located an impressive knocker and rapped it twice, hard. It made a very satisfying thunk, thunk sound that reverberated from the door and into the structure of the house.
Almost immediately she saw a figure through a glass panel in the door hurrying towards her. The lock clicked and the door opened.
“Alex, come in, come in!” He stepped aside and she walked into the warmth of Lewis Ashbury’s home.
“Can I take your jacket?” he said.
She realized she had not even put the jacket on, just carried it with her to the house. She passed the jacket to him and he led her through to the lounge. The air was full of the aroma of cooking food, and her stomach rumbled with hunger.
The lounge was warm and the rain a distant roar now. She looked around the room. Robin’s egg blue walls gave the space a light airy feel, and she was surprised to see those walls hung with a number of Norman Rockwell prints. She would have guessed Lewis to be a little too cynical for the kind of vision that Rockwell’s prints required.
A large cream carpet lay over the dark wood of the floor, framed by a couple of comfy armchairs and a sofa. The room had a working fireplace and flames fluttered around some newly arranged logs.
“Want something to drink?” he said.
“Yes, please.”
“Water, or fruit juice, or I can get you something a bit stronger
after that journey.”
“Just water, thanks.” She smiled at him.
“Make yourself at home; I’ll be back in a minute.”
He disappeared, humming to himself, and Alex moved over to the wall to look more closely at the prints. She studied two of them before lingering at a larger one, hanging above one of the chairs. The picture showed a little boy who may have run away from home, sitting with a police officer on the chrome seats of a classic American diner. There was something delightful and innocent about the picture; the suggestion of safety and reconciliation, even for the prodigals. It was an appealing thought, and Alex was moved by the vision of it.
She tried to imagine herself as the little boy who had run away, but she couldn’t connect with the image in front of her. In Rockwell’s world the little boy would be going back to his parents, and she was never able to do that.
She remembered Alice, a kid she knew from church who’d run away from home and lived on the streets for a few days before being taken in by the Salvation Army. The Rockwell print was an idealistic image of what might happen to a runaway. And yet, this is what happened to Alice, so people could dare to hope, even in the face of the brutality and tragedy of the world.
“Thank God for the Salvation Army,” she whispered under her breath.
“Do you like Rockwell, then?” Lewis had returned with the drinks.
“When I’m feeling hopeful,” she replied. “I like art that suggests hope, and love.”
He nodded, thoughtfully.
“These are all quite new,” he said. “I’ve always had a sneaking admiration for his work, but it’s only recently that I have found the courage to put them up. Come and sit down.”
He put another log on the fire, blew gently on the embers and sat in the other armchair across from Alex. Flames licked around the wood even as he settled into his seat.
“I saw an old colleague of ours recently,” he said.
“Oh, who was that?”
“Martin Massey.”
She stared at him. “Really? Where did you see him?”
“Oh,” said Lewis, “I dropped by to return something I had of his, a briefcase from the SLaM days, he’d asked me to look after. I thought it was time he had it back.”
She looked at him as he stared at the fire with a frown on his face.
“Did you tell him what you’re up to now?” she said.
“Oh, we talked about a few things,” said Lewis. “Me working for you now, he found that very amusing as you’d expect, but mostly we talked about Bridget and what happened to her.”
Alex sensed he wanted to tell her something more so she deliberately said nothing and waited.
“I did love her, very much,” he said. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I used to think that was sentimental rubbish, but now…”
“Now you’re a wiser man,” she said.
“Maybe, but not wise enough to get over a dead colleague.”
“Perhaps you have to admit to yourself how much she meant to you first,” she said.
“Your friend Caleb said more or less the same thing to me,” said Lewis, smiling. “Her murderer is still out there,” he continued. “The police are never going to catch him.”
“No,” she said, “maybe they won’t.”
“Caleb thinks it’s the same guy who came to your café,” he said.
“So do I,” she said. “He also thinks it might have been the same person who was involved in the attack on Conner. He’s spoken to Conner and me about it. All three incidents, it’s the same person.”
“It’s interesting,” said Lewis, “if it is the same person, he could easily have killed Conner, in fact he could probably have killed any of you, but he hasn’t.”
“God,” said Alex, “I hate this, these people who seem to want to destroy us, who are they?”
“I think old Caleb is intent on finding out,” said Lewis. “He’s focused on that now, but he thinks this murderer has a boss, and that’s the prize he’s going after.”
“But we’ve no idea who that is,” said Alex.
“Probably the creep who confronted Daisy and you in the car park all those months ago,” he said. “But that’s Caleb’s target, mine is Bridget’s murderer.”
She looked at him. “For God’s sake, Lewis, please be careful.”
“Why? Why should I be careful?”
“Caleb told me you were still very angry, he’s concerned for you.”
Lewis burst out laughing.
“Bless him,” he said. “So did he send you along here to try to talk me out of doing anything stupid?”
“You were the one who invited me over, remember?” she replied.
“Indeed I did,” he said, conceding the point, “and I’m very pleased that you are here.”
“But yes,” she said, “Caleb did want me to speak to you. He is concerned about what you might do, and frankly so am I.”
“You are?”
“Oh, come on,” she replied, “you know I’m concerned for you; I always have been. I don’t want you to get hurt. Besides, the company needs you at the moment, and I like having you around.”
“Well, I like working for SUMMER; and I like working for you, Alex.”
He sniffed the air. “I also like to eat, and I think dinner is ready.”
Lewis served a very passable satay sweet potato curry, remembering that Alex was a vegetarian. The portion he gave her was more than she would normally eat, but she cleared her plate and as she did so, they talked about the old times at SLaM, and Lewis talked about Bridget and the relationship they’d had, both professional and personal, over the years.
He’d prepared a fresh fruit salad for dessert and Alex took some. They went back to the lounge with some coffee, and Alex decided to return to the subject of Lewis’ quest for justice for Bridget.
“So let’s talk about what you are going to do then, shall we?” she said, as they settled into their chairs.
She looked straight at him, and he stared back at her and he remembered again the desire he’d felt for her when she joined SLaM. He’d always known she would be unattainable, and yet what was it that Caleb had said?
“…don’t confuse morality with indifference. She is fond of you…”
“Lewis?” she said.
“Sorry,” he said, “yes, what I am going to do? To be honest with you, I don’t know. I could go back and lean on Martin again, try and force him to tell me what he knows, if he knows anything else, or I could do the sensible thing and back off, leave it alone, let the police do their work.”
“Tell me about Martin’s connection to this,” she said.
“At first I thought Martin had arranged for someone to kill Bridget,” said Lewis, “because she was rapidly going off the SEEKA project, and I think she might have threatened him.”
Alex’s eyes widened at the suggestion.
“Martin? Arrange to have someone killed?”
“Yes, well, I dismissed the idea pretty quickly,” he added. “Martin was ambitious and greedy, but a killer? No, for all his faults he wouldn’t do that.”
“You know it’s us they’re after, don’t you?” said Alex. “Not you. You could get away from all this if you wanted to.”
“Are you serious?” said Lewis, leaning forward. “I’m not going anywhere. You and your holy huddle are the people I’m closest to now. There isn’t anyone else, you’re my tribe, and I’m on contract with you, so no, I’m not going anywhere.”
“And apart from all of that,” he continued, “these are probably the people who killed my lover and ruined my business. That’s why I want to go after them, I really want more than justice, Alex, I want vengeance, I want them to suffer and to die, the people who did this. That’s what I want.”
In the fireplace the blackening logs popped and crackled.
“Please,” she said, suddenly, “don’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t go after them: Massey, this Joseph, a
ny of them, whoever they are. I don’t want you to go after them.” She was sitting forward now, looking straight at him.
“Why not?” asked Lewis, staring back at her.
“Because, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Why shouldn’t I avenge Bridget if I want to?” he said. “Or even die trying? Why shouldn’t I do that?”
She knew he was forcing her into admitting what she really felt. But she did not answer him because she didn’t know herself. Eventually he stood up and walked over to the window; the wind had settled and the rain had softened to a steady patter on the glass.
“Because it’s better to love the living than avenge the dead,” she said finally.
“That sounds like the kind of thing your old friend Caleb would say.”
“Don’t go after this murderer,” said Alex. “The police have Conner’s testimony as well as all the other evidence, let them do their job. And whoever these people are, they haven’t destroyed Conner, all they’ve done is make him stronger than he was before.”
Lewis smiled. “Well, I think Conner’s new friend Poppy might have had a hand in that as well.”
“Yes,” said Alex, “that’s true.”
He continued to stare out of the window.
“Please, Lewis, I don’t want you to get hurt!” she said loudly, and before he could respond she continued. “Okay, okay, I am fond of you, I care what happens to you, that’s all the truth I know.”
They were both silent for a long, long time, and then he let out a long sigh.
“Okay, okay,” he said, “here’s the deal. I’ll leave it alone, for now. But if anything happens to you or your brother, or Daisy, or even old Saint Caleb, or any of you, so help me, I am going to go after every last one of them; and I won’t stop till one of them gets me or I’ve got all of them. I’ve lost one person I love to these people, and…” his voice caught and he coughed, “…and she was the most precious thing I had.” He swallowed.
Alex stood up and moved slowly towards him and then without any more reflection on what she was doing she put an arm around him and kissed his cheek. He moved away slightly from her as she did it.
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