by Tom Bale
‘Push him on it, and he may claim that Monday’s incident is what provoked the desire to leave.’
Jen sighed. That hadn’t occurred to her. ‘What about the “girlfriend”, then?’
‘Just because Mr Pearce hasn’t seen her, it hardly means her existence can be called into question, particularly as we have doubts about his credibility.’
Jen had no option but to nod. Go on insisting and he was likely to view her as unhinged.
Allenby’s next report was that the police had failed to record the presence of a notepad in the storeroom. ‘So that’s no longer an avenue we can explore. But if I can engineer a suspicion that Mr Wilson isn’t what he purports to be, I will gladly do so.’
Jen’s mood was flat as she left the solicitors. Physically, she wasn’t feeling too good, either. The headache was creeping back, along with an intermittent queasiness.
She bought a carton of fruit juice and a banana from a supermarket in North Street, and sat on one of the long benches in New Road, a pedestrian thoroughfare on the edge of Pavilion Gardens. Was there anything else she could do, or was she better off going home?
An idea occurred to her, which involved the risk of personal humiliation, as well as another encounter with Nick. She decided it was worth trying, and returned to North Street to catch a bus to Portslade. On her limited income, her one lifeline was the annual bus ticket bought through a scheme at work, the cost deducted monthly from her wages.
It wasn’t a particularly long journey, but in the heat she found herself unable to keep her eyes open. She kept jerking awake, her head lolling like a daytime drunk. Was this her destiny, to become an embittered spinster and ex-jailbird who couldn’t control her drinking, shunned by her grown-up son and his family?
At the Skyway she got lucky. A few of the staff, including Nick, weren’t yet back from lunch. In the main reception area, someone was taking a new member through the health and fitness questionnaire, leaving just one person at the desk. Nina was an unassuming young woman who’d only recently been hired and barely knew Jen.
‘Hi, Nina. Mind if I check something on the database? I can’t seem to access it from the climbing centre.’
‘Sure.’ She moved aside, and as Jen stepped behind the counter she spotted an e-cigarette lying beside a coffee mug.
‘Actually, I can spare five minutes if you want to get some fresh air.’
Nina’s eyes lit up. ‘Do you mind? I need to call my boyfriend.’ She grabbed the e-cig and was gone. And if she’d noticed that Jen was wearing denim shorts and black T-shirt, rather than her normal sports gear, she obviously hadn’t thought anything of it.
She’d also left herself logged onto the system. Jen got to work, and within thirty seconds had confirmed that Alex Wilson was a registered member of the gym. He’d joined in late May, three months ago, and taken only the most basic membership.
The Skyway used swipe cards, so it was possible to see how often he’d attended. There was a rash of visits at the start, quickly falling to just once or twice a week, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Most people joined with good intentions and then lost the discipline as other, everyday demands took priority over fitness.
With the desk to herself, she opened up the centre’s incident log, which was an intranet file updated from a handwritten book kept in the manager’s office. Jen found an entry from last Sunday, recorded at 4.20 p.m. Loss of house keys, possibly from the main locker room. No damage found to the locker. No witness corroboration. No relevant CCTV available. A thorough search had failed to yield any clues, so the complainant had been advised to check at home in case he was mistaken, or failing that, report the loss to the police.
Which tied in with what the detectives had told her, though Jen would have expected the complainant – Alex Wilson – to have made a bit more fuss than this. Nothing in the report indicated that he’d demanded to see a manager, or threatened them with a claim for compensation: the usual response nowadays to any kind of problem.
She imagined taking that argument to the police, or even to Allenby, and being told: ‘Perhaps he’s just a reasonable guy?’
It was another dead end. Sighing, Jen waited for Nina to return, chatted for a minute and then left the building feeling more despondent than ever.
In fact, this was worse than a dead end. If the whole thing was a set-up, how on earth could Wilson have known that Jen would notice the keys and go inside the house?
He couldn’t have.
So how had he been able to report the keys missing the day before?
That seemed impossible, and yet she’d just seen solid evidence that supported his version of events. Which meant the only logical explanation was the one she’d been trying so hard to dismiss. She must have blanked out taking the keys on Sunday, and blanked out the destruction of the artwork the following day, while dreaming up a flaky alternative scenario which nobody – including her lawyers – thought was remotely plausible. . .
No, she told herself, that isn’t me. She could see herself picking up the keys from the lawn, writing the note and sticking it to the door. She couldn’t have invented those memories.
‘Then how do I explain it?’ she whispered aloud. How do I prove my innocence, when all this evidence says I’m guilty?
She took a bus to Queens Park and walked to her flat on a route that avoided both number 14 and Russell Pearce’s house. Running it through in her mind, she had to accept that on the basis of the known facts – supported by police reports and CCTV – a jury was almost certain to prefer the prosecution’s version of events over hers.
In that case, the only option was to find stronger evidence in her favour, or else adjust to the reality of a prison sentence. Her chances of surviving were probably better if she spent time preparing for it, as she would for any other major challenge: look at her diet and fitness, work on meditation techniques – and brush up on her self-defence skills.
All well and good in theory, but for one fundamental flaw.
Charlie. She couldn’t bear the thought of him having to visit her in prison, and yet incarceration without contact would destroy her utterly.
As she reached home, there was a niggling feeling that she’d failed to pick up on the significance of something Russell Pearce had said, but she knew it would never come to her if she approached it directly. In any case, the vibe she’d got from Pearce was that he shouldn’t be trusted on anything.
By late afternoon the effects of her hangover had mostly worn off, but she still didn’t feel much like a night out. She was cheered by a brief phone call from Charlie, using his dad’s phone. They had arrived safely in Crete and Charlie was almost gabbling in his enthusiasm for the villa.
‘It’s so amazing, there’s a massive swimming pool, and it’s got a slide! There’s table tennis which Dad’s gonna teach me, and some proper arcade games, and I can hit the drums as loud as I want cos the nearest house is so far away!’
‘Take lots of pictures and get your dad to email them to me.’
‘I will. Love you, Mum.’
‘I love you, too. Have a brilliant time.’
After he rang off, the flat seemed morbidly quiet. Anna’s right, she thought. A night out will do me good, and so what if she keeps trying to hook me up with suitable new boyfriends? It was largely her own fault for giving her friend the impression that no one was interested, when the truth was rather more complicated than that.
Nick, for instance. And then there was—
She sat up in shock, recalling what Pearce had said.
No.
It couldn’t be.
22
Anna rolled up in her Volvo estate, ten minutes late because Lucas had insisted on one more chapter of James and the Giant Peach. ‘He says Daddy doesn’t read it as well as I do.’
‘Can’t argue with that.’ Jen settled in the passenger seat, then registered Anna’s scrutiny.
‘Well, well. For somebody who sounded mighty reluctant to go out, you’ve scru
bbed up rather nicely.’
Jen managed a smile, though she was nervous about her reasons for making so much effort. She was wearing a black lace body-con dress and strappy sandals with a three-inch heel. She had applied a little make-up – lips and eyes, and a hint of blusher on her cheeks – and her blonde hair had been pinned in a deliberately tousled up-do: it was against her nature to look immaculate.
Anna, who was dark-skinned and curvy, let out an appreciative whistle. ‘Wow! That stomach of yours is flat even when you’re sitting down.’
‘I’m breathing in. Anyway, what about you – got a licence for that cleavage, have you?’
Anna looked down. ‘Mm, sorry. Road testing a new bra, and it’s not so much balcony as forklift truck.’ She gave her boobs a comical squeeze. ‘If you think it’s too obvious I’ll take it off.’
Jen grinned. ‘That seems to be all the rage at the moment, going braless. I saw a guy at the gym literally fly off a treadmill because of the distraction.’
‘I wouldn’t dare go untethered,’ Anna said. ‘Whereas you’d look stunning.’
‘Stop it! You’re far more attractive than me.’
‘Oh, don’t you be starting that again. This is Freddie’s work, doing you down.’
‘Actually, it’s more of a family trait. My dad would rather hack off his own foot than boast about something.’
‘Well, modesty has its place, but not right now, when you’re about to get back in the game.’
‘I can’t. The situation’s too delicate.’
‘I think that’s become your fallback. What about Nick?’
Shocked, Jen could only bluster: ‘Wh-what about Nick? Why would you...?’
‘Save it. I know you’ve got the hots for each other.’
Jen shook her head. ‘You should have let me drive. I still feel a bit ill.’
‘Changing the subject!’ Anna clicked her tongue, and was abruptly serious. ‘By the way, if you want to talk about Monday, or anything else. . .’
‘I don’t think so. But thanks.’
‘All right. So where are we going?’
‘Actually, I wondered about Breakaway.’
‘That’s a bar, isn’t it? Near Hove town hall?’
Jen nodded. ‘The food’s good, and it’s lively – just what you wanted.’
‘Okay. What made you come up with that?’
A shrug, to mask her dishonesty. ‘I was there a few weeks ago with a couple of girls from work.’
‘Anyone pull?’
Jen laughed. ‘No, but it was a possibility.’
‘For one of them, or you?’
‘My lips are sealed.’
‘Well, well. Breakaway it is, then.’
The bar/restaurant occupied the ground floor of a large Victorian mansion block on the corner of First Avenue and Church Road. It was a large space with a central serving area, squared off with counters on all four sides. The walls were lined with booths, and there was a small stage and dance floor for their live music and comedy nights.
At a little before eight, the place was still quiet. Jen counted about twenty patrons, mostly an after-work crowd, plus a few mellow souls who appeared to have come straight from the beach.
‘Looking for someone?’
‘Not really.’ Jen pretended not to notice Anna’s wry smile. An attentive waiter rescued her with the offer of drinks, and seemed disappointed that the order was for two Diet Cokes and a jug of tap water.
‘Living it large,’ Anna quipped, and that led to a discussion about healthy diets. In the course of their relationship, Anna’s partner had become a vegetarian, then a vegan, and now he was talking of ditching his high-flying job in corporate acquisitions and retraining as a nutritional therapist. ‘I’m practically teetotal these days, because when I drink I want a cigarette, and when I smoke I fancy a joint. But imagine – no bacon, Jen. No chicken, no fish, no cheese.’
‘What does that actually leave?’
‘Grass and twigs, I think. I’m protected at the moment, because I’ve insisted that Lucas eats a balanced diet until he’s old enough to decide for himself. But once he’s grown up, I might as well just buy a hutch and call myself Bugsy.’
Liberated by her partner’s absence, Anna ordered deep fried camembert followed by pork belly. Jen had bruschetta and then sea bass. As they ate, they kept the conversation fairly neutral – not too much about the kids, because Anna knew how much Jen pined for Charlie when he was away.
The bar started to get busier around nine. Thanks to a well-positioned mirror, Jen could keep tabs on quite a large section of the room. Anna caught her at it more than once; she said nothing but quietly smirked, as if she knew exactly what was going on.
But you don’t, Jen thought sadly. You really don’t.
Then, as they were finishing the main course and debating the wickedness of dessert – mitigated if they had one to share – and Jen had all but dismissed the foolish hunch that had prompted her to nominate this venue over any other. . . there he was.
He’d come in alone, dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt; no tie. At the bar he waited with his hands in his pockets, his stance casual, no apparent interest in who else was present. Just as he lifted his hand to pay for his drink, her view was obscured by somebody moving to the bar.
By then, he’d sensed that he was being watched, though he pretended he hadn’t. Playing it cool – which was logical, after last time.
Anna began to lose the thread of a somewhat catty anecdote about her mother’s new boyfriend, then broke off mid sentence. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You look tense.’
Jen glanced in the mirror and saw he was heading away from the bar; a moment of eye contact with her reflection and he gave a little double-take, then turned in their direction.
She sat up straighter. Tense didn’t begin to cover how she was feeling. She heard Anna emit a tiny gasp of pleasure as she registered what was going on, but Jen’s heart was pounding from something very different to attraction. She looked him up and down, saw he had a bottle of Peroni in his right hand, but his left was still thrust into a pocket.
Damn.
‘Hi there – Jen? Nice to see you again.’
‘You, too.’ With quick thinking, Jen offered her hand to shake. The man had to switch the beer to his left hand, and as the cuffs of his shirt and jacket rode up, she was able to see his wrist.
No watch.
He shook hands, but also leaned over and kissed her cheek. As he straightened up, Anna was rising from her seat.
‘This is my friend, Anna.’
‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Sam.’ A slight smile to acknowledge the possibility that Jen hadn’t remembered his name. Then he tutted. ‘You didn’t call me.’
‘Been busy, you know how it is.’
‘Shame. You’ve still got my card, though?’
Jen managed a flirtatious smile. ‘I think I mislaid it.’
He grinned back, a lot of light in those gorgeous brown eyes. ‘Mislaid into the nearest bin, I bet. You must get given so many.’
‘Oh, hundreds,’ she said, in a mock weary tone. ‘Let me have another one, and maybe I’ll be more careful this time.’
‘I hope so, or else I’ll have to keep coming back here to find you.’
‘I’ll make sure she does,’ Anna cut in, which was his cue to turn the charm on her.
‘Then I’ll be forever in your debt. Thank you.’
Jen braced herself for a spiel, but Sam left it at that, simply reaching into his jacket and bringing out a business card, which he set down upon the table. No cheesy comments, no sleazy attempt to brush against her – significant points in his favour, or might have been...
It was as he retracted his hand that she saw the watch, big and brash and chunky; not on his left arm but his right. That’s a fuck-off watch right there, Jen thought, and felt an icicle of pure fear plunging into her heart – a reaction she had to hide, at least for the few second
s it took Sam to wish them both a fine evening.
Then he sauntered away, and Jen felt sure that Anna, vibrating with curiosity, couldn’t fail to ask why she looked so stunned, so disturbed. But she didn’t.
‘Oh. My. God. You lucky cow!’
23
Jen bought herself some time by turning to watch Sam stroll away. She wanted to see if he was meeting up with anyone, though not for the reasons Anna would have assumed.
Her friend hissed a warning: ‘Don’t be too obvious.’
Jen snorted. ‘Did you really just say that, after months of urging me to jump on any half-decent bit of male flesh?’
‘Your friend Sam is rather more than “half-decent”. Now tell me everything!’
‘It’s no big deal. Last time I was in here, with the girls from work, we got talking at the bar and he offered to buy me a drink. In fact, he offered to buy all three of us a drink. I said no, and he backed off, but asked if he could give me his card. The others were urging me to take it, so I did.’
‘Good grief, Jennifer. Why didn’t you call him?’
‘I keep telling you, I can’t afford to be in a relationship until the divorce is complete. Freddie’s girlfriends are one thing – it’s like everyone expects men to shag around. But anyone new coming into my life and his lawyers will make out it’s party night for paedos, and suddenly I’m not trusted to have Charlie anymore.’
‘No, no, you’re exaggerating. Whatever the risks, you make an exception for a guy like that.’ Anna gestured at the bar in exasperation. ‘It’s so blinking obvious how keen you are. You can’t stop looking at him.’
Jen was fighting the urge to stare. Sam had moved to the far side of the bar, only a sliver of his right arm and shoulder visible. Tracking him, she felt sick with confusion, but somehow to Anna it came across as uncontrollable lust.
The waiter sidled up, and Jen changed her mind about dessert. ‘What the hell, let’s have a banoffee pie to share.’
Anna grinned. ‘Two spoons, or three?’
