by Sarah Hilary
And there it was at last – a grin. A normal ten-year-old grin, reconfiguring the cautious lines of his face. He was wearing new sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that Marnie had bought in an all-night supermarket, cutting off the tags before giving the clothes to Noah to bring here. Finn’s face had lit up when he’d seen the hoodie, as if Noah was handing him body armour.
‘By the way, a couple of your mates from school say Hi.’
‘Yeah?’ Finn wrinkled his nose. ‘Say Hi back, I guess.’
‘You were smart,’ Noah told him, ‘to stay wide of the Crasmere Boys.’
‘Not really.’ Finn studied his fresh hand of cards. ‘If I’d been running with them I’d have been harder to snatch. Then people wouldn’t be dead.’
He knew about Kyle and Carole, but it was Ollie’s death that haunted him. Noah could see its ghost in the boy’s big eyes. ‘DI Rome’s been to see your dad.’
Finn kept his stare down, but his shoulders were rigid. ‘Is he okay?’
‘He misses you. Sends his love.’
‘Does he know what happened?’
‘He knows you were in that house, and that you’re out of it now. He knows how brave you’ve been.’
Finn flinched on the word brave, and didn’t speak.
Noah tried to remember the tactics he’d used to talk to Sol when he was Finn’s age. But whatever they were, he doubted the same words would work with Finn. And the thought of Sol, what he’d done to Sol, was still too raw.
‘Couple of things you need to know,’ he told Finn. ‘We’ve arrested Zoe Marshall. She’s not coming back here.’
Finn didn’t need to know that Zoe was dead. There was enough death in his head already. Noah thanked God that Harry Kennedy was going to be okay. Post-surgery, but the prognosis was good.
Finn took another card from the pile, adding it to the ones in his hand. ‘Okay.’
‘And no one’s going to be charging you with what happened to Huell.’
‘Why not?’ Taking a card. ‘I stabbed him, didn’t I?’
‘There shouldn’t have been all those guns . . . Our boss’s in trouble over that.’
Finn looked up. ‘DI Rome’s in trouble?’
‘No. Our boss. Hers and mine. DCS Ferguson.’
‘From the telly.’ Finn was studying Noah. ‘That one.’
‘That one,’ he agreed.
Except now Ferguson was dodging the cameras, and the awkward questions about why she’d put an Armed Response Unit in the mix. Overkill wasn’t a joke so much as an epitaph. Marnie had made peace with the woman, and told Noah to do the same. They were moving on.
Finn threw the cards down and shifted backwards on the bed, crossing his legs under him, hiding his hands up the new hoodie’s sleeves. ‘Is she coming? DI Rome?’
‘She’s coming,’ Noah said.
Finn was eating supper by the time Marnie got to the hospital. She’d brought a bag of books. ‘From Colin. He says he thinks you’ll like them.’
Finn wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘Thanks.’
Noah got to his feet, stretching his legs. Marnie watched him, with concern. It was there in his face, well hidden from Finn but she saw it: Sol’s arrest. He’d called to tell her what he’d done, sounding dazed and unhappy: ‘It was me. I made the arrest.’
‘I’m here,’ Marnie told him now. ‘If you need me.’
Noah nodded. He rubbed at the shadow on his cheek then crouched to collect a playing card from the floor, handing it to Finn. ‘Dan’s home. I’ll be okay.’
She nodded. ‘Get some proper rest.’
‘What about the paperwork?’ From Zoe, he meant. He searched Marnie’s face.
‘I’ve got it.’ She was tired but the case was gone from her, that worry she’d been wearing for the last week. She smiled. ‘At least there’s good news about Harry.’
‘Yes.’ Noah reached for his coat. ‘See you, Finn. Don’t chew your winnings all at once.’
Finn nodded, but his eyes were on Marnie. He ate the rest of his food quickly, pushing the table away from the bed when he was done.
Marnie sat in the chair vacated by Noah. ‘How are you?’
‘Okay. Chart’s there.’ He jerked his head at it, fingers fidgeting with the playing card that Noah had rescued from the floor. ‘You saw my dad.’
‘I did. He sent his love.’
A photo, not a playing card. Creased across one corner, dulled by time and fingers. Two faces, both smiling. White teeth and black curls, a beach in the background. Aidan and Finn.
‘What did he do?’ Finn’s face was pinched. ‘No one’ll tell me what he did. Ollie said they made him hurt people. That’s what I was for – so he’d hurt people.’
‘He didn’t do what they wanted,’ Marnie said.
‘That’s—’ He stared at her with those grey eyes so like his father’s. ‘You’re lying. My dad loves me. He’d do whatever they said. He loves me.’
‘Yes, he loves you. That’s why he didn’t do anything stupid. Because then he’d be in prison a lot longer when what he wants is to get home to you.’
‘Is that what he wants?’ Finn’s eyes jittered. ‘Is it?’
‘Yes. He told me, and I believe him.’
‘And he didn’t hurt anyone?’ The photo was curled between his hands.
Holding hard to his fear, reluctant to let it go.
‘They wanted him to.’ Marnie ached with fellow feeling. Fear had been her insulation for years. ‘But no. He didn’t.’
‘He’s done it before.’ Finn let go of the photo to grip his bare toes. ‘Hurt people.’
‘I know, but that’s finished. He wants to get home to you. That’s what matters now.’
She’d lost count of the apologies Aidan had made when he was thanking her for the good news that his son wouldn’t be charged with assault. It had reminded her that she owed apologies of her own, to Alan and Louise Kettridge. They were here, in this hospital. When it was visiting hours, she’d walk to the wards and see them. And Harry too. She wanted to see Harry.
Finn said, ‘I was stupid. I got sick because I was scared. I let them grab me and then I couldn’t get out and Ollie came and I had the knife and Brady was right there—’
‘You did what you had to do. They took away all the other options. And it’s okay to be scared. Being scared’s a big part of being brave.’
Finn stared at her, strawberry jelly at the corner of his mouth. ‘You’re not.’
‘Scared? Yes, I am. Every day. But that’s okay. Scared’s good. It keeps you alive, and it stops you from making too many mistakes. Besides,’ she picked the paper towel from his tray and wiped the jelly from his mouth, ‘it’s okay to be scared when you’re as brave as you are.’
The car park was patchy with ice but its grip was loosening, the cold less tight around her shoulders. She found a bench close to the entrance and sat with the hospital’s noise muted at her back. She rang Ed first, to say she’d be home late, and to tell him that Finn was safe. And Harry, but she didn’t tell Ed that. Ed didn’t know Harry, didn’t know about him. The cold crept closer and she buried her hands in the pockets of her coat, finding the hard edge of the paper wallet pushed there.
Across a frosted rank of cars, London thumped, beating time. Waiting for her.
She put her hand over the wallet of photographs, keeping it closed.
In a minute, she’d open it and look through the pictures taken by her father on the old camera which he’d loved too much to replace with a digital model.
Twenty-four prints, developed in an hour for a premium price. She’d walked to fill the time, looking in shop windows, seeing the slow shove of traffic as the city crawled home.
Noah was on his way home, but not happily. Blaming himself for Sol’s arrest and whatever had forced him to make it. Marnie knew he wouldn’t have taken that decision lightly. She wanted to tell him to let it go, the blame and the hurt. But it was too soon.
Harry was in a hospital bed, sleeping or n
ot. She’d visit him, tomorrow. And Finn too, wanting to be sure that he was safe. She would put her hand on those heavy hospital doors, one after another, and walk down those long corridors to stand by their beds, because it was all that she could do.
The car park was freezing, one windscreen at a time.
Her breath was wet, her eyes watering with the cold.
In a minute, she would open the envelope and find out whether Stephen was telling the truth or just a new lie. Whatever she found, she’d take it home with her.
His truth, or his lie.
She would take it home and let it go, and sleep.
Author’s Note
Quieter than Killing is a work of fiction, but I found the following to be particularly relevant and/or inspirational when I was writing and later editing the book: The Forgiveness Project by Marina Cantacuzino, published by JKP, 2015
HM Prison Service – A Survival Guide by Aidan Cattermole, published by Ditto Press Happy Like Murderers by Gordon Burn, published by Faber & Faber, 1998
