by Deborah Finn
She looked back at him. Her eyes had started watering, her nose was red. “That’s what you did to me,” she said. “That’s my life now.” She laughed bitterly. “You ruined my life.”
“Now, come on, Mar—“
“You raped me, you fucking bastard. You totally fucked me up. You left me for dead. Did you never even wonder what happened to me?” Tears spilled over and ran down her face, red blotches spreading over her white skin.
“Oh no, no, no,” Gallagher said quietly. “I do not remember it that way.” He stepped towards her and she wheeled away, her fingers wrapped round her skull and tangled in her hair. He stopped and watched her. She was cowering at the edge of the path. What was he going to do with her?
“I don’t know what’s happened to you, Marilyn,” he said. “I’m sorry you’ve fallen on hard times.”
She didn’t move.
“Of course, I’d always like to help a friend in need. Do you need money?”
She looked up at him then. She’d stopped snivelling at least. “I told the police, you know.”
Gallagher felt a twitch in his eyebrow and reached up to smooth it.
“About you. I told them about the rape.”
Gallagher shook his head. “There was no rape, Marilyn. I don’t know where you’ve been these last ten years or what’s happened to you. Is it drugs? Is that why you’re in this state?”
Marilyn laughed, a bitter, strangled noise. “You fuck! I told them it was you. They wrote it all down. They put it in a file.”
Gallagher tilted his head indulgently and smiled. “Marilyn, what are you talking about?” He spread his upraised palms. “Don’t you think I’d know about it if someone had accused me of rape? Don’t you think the police would have been to see me?”
“I pulled out,” she said. Her eyes fell to the ground. “I couldn’t do it. But I still told them. They still wrote it down. I could still go back there now.”
Gallagher shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry to see you in this state, Marilyn. I really am. And I would like to help. How much do you need, do you think, to get back on your feet?”
Marilyn looked up at him. There was a long silence as she chewed her lower lip. At last she spoke. “Three hundred thousand.”
Gallagher looked at her for a moment. She really was going to try and screw him. He laughed. “That’s quite a lot just to get back on your feet.”
“It’s earnings,” she said. “Lost earnings. That’s not even for the... for the... what do they call it? The pain and suffering. That’s just the earnings you stole from me. I worked it out.”
“I bet you did.” He stared at her and she stared back. She wasn’t backing down. “Are you blackmailing me, Marilyn? Is that what you’re trying to do?”
“It’s what I’m owed.”
Gallagher nodded. “And if you got what you were owed – what then?”
Marilyn looked away, and he saw her shoulders slump, her face turn soft and confused. “I could buy a house,” she said. “I could live.”
Gallagher turned away from her. The calculating fucking bitch. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s keep walking. I’m getting cold.”
He moved off down the path. Three hundred thousand? In your dreams!
“So, how come you’re not ironing today, Marilyn?”
“I’m on later.”
“You do shifts?”
“Yeah.”
Gallagher smiled, a picture in his mind of the way she’d walked about the place, swinging her arse. Those stupid glasses she wore so she could look over the top of them at him, like he was beneath her.
“Messes with your head, that. Doing shifts.”
She made a noise. He glanced over his shoulder at her. She was creeping along behind him, just keeping pace.
“You wouldn’t want to go back to office work? You know I’ve got a campaign on the go. Always looking for good people.”
She stopped walking. Her mouth fell open like a cartoon character. For a moment, she looked like she was going to throw up.
“You? Work for you?”
He shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s better paid than the laundry.” He waved at her clothes. “Doesn’t look like you’re doing too well at it.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“You were always good, Marilyn. The best.”
She laughed. “You’re mad! Oh my god, you must be mad.”
He turned away and carried on walking. “Think about it, Marilyn. It might be the best offer you get. I mean, look at yourself. Look at your CV. Who’s going to give you that kind of job again? No one. You’re kind of stuck at the bottom now, aren’t you? This could be a big chance for you to pull yourself back up, get things straight.” He heard her scurrying along behind him.
“You make me sick.”
Gallagher laughed. “Well, you know, I’m the boss, Marilyn. Sometimes I have to do things that people don’t like. But I’m not in it to make people love me.” He stopped and turned towards her. “I don’t really care if you call me names.”
“You think I’d come back and work for you? You really think that?”
“Just think about it. It makes a lot of sense. You get yourself back on the ladder. I get you back in the firm, we have an understanding, right? I’m sure we could negotiate a salary that would, you know, set things right for you, make everything work for both of us, if you get what I mean.”
He could see the confusion all over her face, her lips moving, trying to figure out the words.
“This isn’t how you thought it would work out, is it Marilyn?” He laughed. “Did you really think you could turn up here and say: give me three hundred thousand pounds, Lester – for old time’s sake?”
“I’m owed it.”
And suddenly the laughter was gone and he stepped right into her space, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling her face close to his. “You’re owed nothing, you stupid cow.” She tried to turn away from him, but he leaned round pushing his face into hers. His face twisted in disgust. “You smell. You work in a fucking laundry. Don’t you even wash your own clothes?”
She whimpered, trying to pull her hair away from him.
“You’re going to have to clean yourself up before you come and work for me again, you dirty girl.”
“I’m not working for you. You must be fucking mad. I’m never working for you.”
“But I haven’t even told you how much yet. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want the money?”
She stopped pulling and looked at him. “How much?”
He laughed then, and let go of her hair, stepping back. Marilyn rubbed her scalp, her eyes fixed on him.
Gallagher shrugged. “Forty thousand?” He saw her eyes flare open for a moment, then her face closed up again. “Just think about it, Marilyn. This is the best offer you’re going to get. Forty thousand for a bit of admin. You’ll get to buy your little skirts and handbags again, a fancy apartment in town.” His mouth curled in disgust. “Before you know it, you’ll be your old self.”
“I don’t...” she began and then stumbled to a halt. She was shaking her head, but she didn’t mean no.
The stupid bitch, he thought. So easy to confuse, just like always.
“Look, you go away and think about it. You’ve got my number. You give me a call when you’re ready to talk. OK?”
She put her hands up to her temples, like she had a headache.
“OK?” he asked again, and she nodded.
Gallagher clapped her on the shoulder. “I better get going. People to do, places to see.” He laughed. “It’s good to see you again, Marilyn. You take care now.”
And he jogged back up the slope, without even noticing the incline.
Nine
“Jesus!” Jango’s voice came out of his barrel chest as a low growl. “I nearly trod in it.” His big head swivelled round slowly towards Farren. “Look what your fucking dog’s done.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Farren waved the complaint a
way. “I’ve brought bags.”
Jango lifted one polished shoe, then the other. The soles were clean. He watched Farren scoop the mess into a mint coloured plastic bag. He took a step back and crossed his arms. “That’s disgusting,” he said. The seams of his suit jacket strained over his biceps.
“You can’t just leave it there,” Farren said. He looked around for a dog bin. “Here, hold her lead.” He jogged off to the bin and back again and took the lead from Jango. “Kids get diseases when it goes in their eyes,” he explained.
“Why would they put dog shit in their eyes?”
Farren shook his head. “They don’t, you mong. It’s a worm or something.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Jango turned away and looked down the path. “Hey, look. There’s the boss.”
Farren looked up, saw Gallagher jogging up the path, wearing lycra shorts. Farren laughed. “Who the fuck does he think he is? Usain Bolt?”
Jango snorted, then twitched his head sideways. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”
Farren sighed. “Where is she anyway, this Marilyn bird?”
Jango shrugged. “They went down together.”
“Well, we better go down after her. He’ll get a right nark on if we let her get away.”
They walked towards the path, heading down as Gallagher came up.
“Are we supposed to act like we don’t know him?” Farren asked.
Jango shrugged.
Gallagher drew level and passed them, his eyes dead ahead. Farren looked over his shoulder for a while, watching Gallagher climb the slope. “He’s going to have a fucking heart attack if he carries on like that. Did you see his face?”
“Stop looking, will you. Jesus, you’re like a kid. Have you got the fucking camera?”
“I’ve got me phone,” Farren said.
“I told you to bring that camera. We can’t get too close. You need to zoom.”
“Zoom,” Farren laughed. “It’s not Interpol, you know.”
“Shit,” Jango said. “Here she is. She’s coming this way. Just keep walking.”
“We can’t keep walking,” said Farren. “We’ve got to follow her.” He looked at Marilyn as she got closer. Her face was really white. She had on a thin windcheater that she was pulling around her like she was freezing. He saw her eyes dart over, checking them out. Then she turned her head away, like she was trying not to be seen, trying to be nobody.
“Mate, I’ve left me phone in the car,” Farren said loudly. “Let’s just go back a minute and get it.”
“You’ve got it right...”
Farren silenced Jango with a look.
Marilyn walked past them and they turned to follow her. When they reached the top of the path, Gallagher had disappeared. Marilyn stopped dead near the gate. She turned and stared into the park. She pulled a woollen hat from her pocket, then her arms hung limp by her sides.
“What’s she doing?” Jango muttered. “Just act like we’re talking about something, alright.”
“What if she goes out and gets on a bus?”
“Well, then you’ll get on the bus.”
“Can you take dogs on the bus?”
“You shouldn’t have brought the fucking dog. I told you so.”
“I told you so,” Farren mocked. “How old are you?”
“Hang on. She’s getting on the phone. Who’s she talking to?”
“How the fuck would I know? Shall I get a picture?”
“Yeah, go on.”
Farren took a few snaps. “Why am I doing this? We all know she was in the park.” He sighed and looked around. “This is fucking stupid.”
“Look, she’s off,” Jango said. Marilyn was walking away from the gate and towards the lawns.
“She’s staying in the park,” said Farren. “That’s great, isn’t it Holly? Do you want to get off the lead now?” He bent down and unclipped the spaniel’s lead, rubbing its ears as the dog licked his face. “Oh you do, don’t you? You do!”
“For fuck’s sake Farren. Stop shagging your dog.”
Farren pulled a face. “Jesus, you’re disgusting. Off you go Holly.” He threw a ball far into the broad central lawn. “Hey, it’s a nice day, isn’t it?” he said, squinting up at the sun.
“A nice day?” Jango shook his head. “Since you got that dog, you’ve gone soft in the head.”
“Where’s she going anyway?” said Farren, ignoring him. “Where’s that path go?”
“Goes down the other end. Is there another way out down there?”
Farren shrugged.
“What if she goes out and we’re nowhere near the car. Has she got a car?” Jango asked. “Shit,” he muttered.
“Don’t sweat it,” Farren said. “Just tell the old man how it went down.”
Farren watched the twitch in Jango’s cheek. That was the difference between them. Jango was scared of the boss. He wanted to be the boss’s right-hand man, like that was ever going to happen.
“Holly,” Farren yelled to the dog. “Come on. She’s getting too far away.”
They walked on.
“What do you think it is anyway, all this?” Farren asked. “I mean, she looks like a junkie. He’s not... you know.”
Jango laughed. “On H? The boss? Give over.”
Farren narrowed his eyes. “Well, maybe he used to,” he said. “Maybe that’s what this bird is all about. Someone he used to know back then.”
Jango shrugged.
“Hey, she’s sat down by that bloke,” Farren said.
“Is she talking to him?” asked Jango. “Get some photos.”
Farren took a few shots, squinting at the screen. “She doesn’t look happy about something. Oh my god, look at that. She’s kicking off!”
Marilyn was jabbing a finger in the man’s face. Even from that distance they could hear that she was shouting.
“Are you getting all this?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Farren laughed.
“Can you see his face?” asked Jango. “Make sure you get some of him. The boss’ll want to see that.”
“He’s giving her a shake. Oh my god, that’s a brilliant shot.” Farren laughed. “Farren’s your man for all your PI needs.”
Jango watched, his heavy brow like an overhanging crag, shadowing his eyes. “That bloke, he’s no junkie,” he said. “Look how he’s dressed.” He shook his head. “What the fuck is going on?”
Martin was on a bench but not where he’d agreed to be. She’d told him to go into the play area, let Ben play on the pirate ship while they talked. But no, he was sitting on a bench on the path above the play area, and there was no sign of Ben. Marilyn’s head hurt. Why didn’t he do what he said he’d do? She rubbed her forehead. She could feel the dry skin of her ridged frown. There was a tingling line across her scalp where Gallagher had yanked her hair. She felt a pressure inside her like she wanted to cry but there were no tears. He said he’d come. He said he’d bring Ben. Only now did she realise how she’d been holding herself together for this. How could he let her down after what she’d given him? How could he treat her like this? She tried to steady her breathing, blowing out through pursed lips. She wouldn’t let him see her shaking.
She walked towards him. It could have been nice, she thought. It could have been friendly, if he’d done the right thing. She used to like Martin, back in the day, when he’d been Gallagher’s architect. He’d been a bit of a flirt, but never sleazy or sly. It was more like he needed to be liked. There was something in it she recognised. And after all, she’d given him her baby. Her baby, for God’s sake! Why didn’t he show some respect? She paused for a moment, getting control of her anger, before she walked on.
She saw his eyes flick sideways at her as she approached. She sat on the bench, watched his hands clench into fists. He turned abruptly towards her.
“Hi, Martin,” she said.
She watched the confusion chase across his face.
“I know you,” he said. She could see him scanning his brain for her half-re
membered face.
“You used to,” she said slowly. “Marilyn Souter.”
There was silence for a moment as he stared at her. “Marilyn..?” he said at last. His voice was high with disbelief. “From Gallagher’s?”
She thought she knew what he was thinking. Look at him: his expensive shirt, that thick gold wedding band, the suntanned hand around the newspaper. She flicked imaginary dust from her charity shop t shirt.
“We’ve all changed, Martin.”
He nodded several times, his mouth open, struggling for words. She could see the thoughts lumbering through his head, great big simple thoughts, banging into each other. Had he not put it together yet? She could feel her heart thumping, waiting for him to catch on.
“I was waiting for someone,” he said at last. His eyes met hers, and moved away again: it’s not you? She could see the sweat on his forehead. He was so slow.
“Lady friend, is it?” Marilyn asked. “Someone special?” She raised an eyebrow.
“No,” he said quickly. “Nothing like that.” He sounded so stuffy, so respectable. “I’m married.” He stood up, as if he was going to move away. He looked around, scanning the park.
She felt him dismissing her, putting her out of his mind. “You were married back then,” she said.
He snapped back towards her, his eyes fixed on her face. He was getting it now.
“Didn’t seem to stop you then.”
“That was a long time ago,” he said thin as an echo.
Marilyn pulled a sympathetic face. “Did Beth find out about your girlfriends?” she said in a mockingly sweet voice. “Was she very angry with you?”
She could see his chest moving as he struggled to breathe. It made her smile.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” he said, his voice hoarse.
She stood up, moved close to him and laughed. “Ding dong!” she said, her eyes flashing wide open. “You figured it out at last!” She looked around her, pantomiming surprise. “But no prizes for you, Martin,” she said. She poked him hard in the shoulder. “You didn’t bring Ben, did you?”
