The Way Back (Not Quite Eden Book 6)

by Dominique Kyle

  They eyed me.

  “I work at the Williams factory,” I added for extra effect.

  They glanced at each other. “Nish Gilbraith was burgled two days ago,” one said.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Is there anything at all you can tell us about the man you saw?” They pressed.

  I frowned. I hadn’t wanted to say this, because I couldn’t be quite sure. “I think he was brown.”

  “Brown?” One of them echoed, with a query in his tone.

  “It’s just that his face didn’t light up as white as you’d expect it to in the light coming in from the street,” I explained. I sniffed the air. “And you can still smell him. Leather. Garlic. Some sort of aftershave?”

  The police sniffed then shook their heads. “We’ll take your word for it. Sure it’s not one of us that’s been eating garlic bread?”

  I shook my head. “I smelt it as soon as he opened the door…”

  After they left, warning me that the lock would no longer work since he’d forced it, I was too scared to stay there in case he came back. I sat on my bed, thinking about it, then I took a risk, and rang Nish’s mobile. It rang and rang, until finally a sleepy sounding Nish answered it.

  “I’ve had an intruder and I’m too scared to stay here on my own, can I come round to yours?”

  He yawned. “What?” He said blearily. He yawned again. “Yeah… ‘Cept Sappho’s in the spare room.”

  “You’ve got an enormous sofa,” I reminded him.

  “What? Oh, yeah, sofa..?” I could hear him getting up and moving around. “I’ll just go and unlock the front door and then you can creep in without needing to wake us.”

  It was a good idea, but I was concerned about him leaving the door unlocked, so I very quickly gathered up my uniform for tomorrow, my laptop, tablet and phone, shoved them into a rucksack and left immediately on my bike.

  Inside Nish’s flat, all was dead quiet apart from some gentle snoring issuing from Sappho’s room. I snapped the door back on the latch, took my trainers off and crept softly over Nish’s deep pile carpet to get to his massive sandy coloured, deep and squishy sofa. I curled up with one of the scatter cushions tucked under my head. I was a bit cold, but I was too knackered for it to keep me awake.

  Sappho’s voice woke me up. The morning sunlight was flooding through the now open curtains. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” She sounded a bit put out.

  I yawned and stretched. “Nish let me in. A man broke into my flat and I couldn’t stay there.”

  Sappho was in cream, grey and pale pink silk pyjamas with some sort of Japanese cherry blossom design on them. Her long dark hair fell in a charming cloud around her face. “Coffee?” She offered.

  I usually had tea first thing, but right now I’d take anything that was on offer. I glanced at my watch. Phew, only seven thirty. For a moment I’d wondered if I was late for work. She handed me a bone china mug of fragrant hot dark liquid and then she curled up at the other end of the sofa with her own.

  “You’re smaller than I imagined,” she opened.

  I frowned. “Why were you imagining anything?”

  “Oh,” she said casually. “We were all complete addicts of that series you were in, us girls at school. I feel like I already know you! I was so excited when I realised who Nish was talking about!”

  “Why was he talking about me?” I asked with a wrinkled nose.

  “Oh, he rang me up to complain that you were treating him like a potential rapist and wouldn’t even come into the flat with him…”

  She tossed all this off in such a conversational tone I was taken aback.

  At that moment, Nish wandered out in just a set of boxers. He stopped short when he saw me. “I forgot you were here, are you ok?”

  He stood to one side of us, stretching sleepily. Well, I thought, sick or no, all that work he was doing down the gym had sculpted every muscle in his body. He’s one very pretty boy, I thought. No wonder everyone at work assumes I must fancy him. If he stood there semi-naked, stretching, for much longer, I might just start fulfilling their expectations.

  “I was just telling her that you said she was treating you like a rapist and that I’d told you that if only you’d only watched that programme about Stock car racing the other year like I kept telling you to, instead of being too snobby to lower yourself to it, you’d know that Eve was raped by a work colleague when she was only seventeen, so no doubt she makes a point of not trusting anyone these days…”

  I stared at her, appalled. Nish saw my expression and said rather feebly, “I don’t think you should be saying all this Sapphie. I’m sure Eve doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  I carefully put the mug of coffee down on the glass topped table near the wounded orchid. My hand was shaking.

  Sappho looked over at me, all constructed wide eyed innocence. “I figured that since it was all broadcast on National TV, she really couldn’t mind me mentioning it – it’s not exactly the world’s best kept secret is it?” She twisted round to look at her brother. “And anyway you look exactly like that Mohammed – that grooming gang leader she exposed – so maybe you’re making her feel rather queasy!”

  Nish stared in a bewildered way at her.

  Sappho looked triumphantly back at me. “He does, doesn’t he?” She appealed. “When I was watching that programme I was thinking, shit, I hope no one thinks that Mohammed is my Nish! And then you went to the guy’s flat and it was exactly like this one wasn’t it? Lay out, colour scheme… And I thought, oh no, someone’s bound to think he’s Nish!”

  I tried to clear my throat, it felt tight and I couldn’t speak. I looked around the flat. Orange and white colour scheme, white sofa, white rug. I looked at Nish’s face. Handsome. His dark eyes fixed on mine.

  “What grooming gang?” Nish asked worriedly. “You’re not serious are you, Sapphie? That I look like some paedophile?” He looked back at me. “Eve..?” He queried.

  I had a sudden flashback to looking up at his face as he forced me to sit on his lap and watch some poor young girl being made to have sex with a disgusting old bloke. I suddenly saw myself kneeling in his flat on the soft white sheepskin rug on the orange carpet, massaging his head then leaning over to kiss his soft lips when he asked me to.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Sapphie needled with a sly smile.

  I stood up sharply, snatched up my rucksack and walked out. Nish tried to reach out to touch my arm as I passed but I whisked myself round him and stalked out, slamming the door behind me. Back on the bike I drove dangerously fast up the narrow winding lanes to the downs. I got off and ripped my helmet off, feeling like I needed air. I couldn’t go for a walk now, I only had twenty minutes before I due into work, but I just needed a moment alone. My fingers were still trembling slightly. I had no idea why she was behaving like that, but was she right? Was I being defensive and aggressive because subconsciously he was reminding me of Mohammed? Or was it just because he was an A1 arsehole? No, that was unfair. He was ok really. He couldn’t help what family he was born into. But that Sappho had made me uneasy now. She might be being a bitch, but she’d maybe done me a favour by making me aware of why I felt so uncomfortable alone with him in the flat, and so unwilling to lay myself open to him. It made me feel a bit sick.

  And then something occurred to me that made me feel even worse. Could these break-ins be something to do with my undercover foray last year to expose the grooming gang in my home town? I hadn’t been called to court yet as a witness, something I’d been warned I might have to do. Was someone trying to get their hands on all the recordings I’d made on my trips into the gang? I’d wiped them off my computer after they’d been deposited in an online Dropbox which only the journalism team and the police had access to. If Mohammed’s contacts had found out where I was living now, I wouldn’t be safe. Witness intimidation and reprisals were the norm. Or even, and at this thought my heart sank, did someone think that because Nish was part Pakistani, I
was working undercover to expose some sex scandal involving him too? Some disgusting rag of a paper hoping to dish the dirt on a minor celebrity? Or even some rival trying to discredit William’s development driver with filth that they hoped I’d recorded? I was going to have to go straight to Mr. Heskett with this when I got in.

  He looked over his desk at me, his grey eyes thoughtful. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you? You think the two break-ins were linked in some way?”

  I nodded.

  He drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment. “Hmm, like you say, there are a number of possibilities as to why they were after your computers… I’ll inform the IT department to make sure they’re on high security alert and check all their firewalls, or whatever it is they do. And we’ll instruct everyone to change their passwords, which Nish especially should do. He must change every one that he’s got.”

  I nodded.

  “Ok, thanks,” he said absently, looking back down at his papers. I took it as my signal to leave. As I walked out he lifted his head and said, “Enjoy Hockenheim!”

  I was puzzled. What had he meant by that?

  Half way through the morning, I found out. After three pit practices in a row with myself in each of the three different positions, Alan clicked his watch off and looked around at the men. “What do you think?”

  “Yeah, go for it,” Ben said with a grin.

  Alan looked across at me. “You’d better pop home and get an overnight bag. The taxi’s coming to pick you, Ben and Sam up in an hour.”

  I stared at him.

  “You’re coming to Hockenheim with us to join the Pit team for the weekend,” Ben informed me with a laugh at my gobsmacked expression.

  And it was then that Nish walked in.

  I turned round to him. “Nish, I’m going to Hockenheim for the weekend, but that guy bust my lock last night and the police told me I’d have to replace it so the flat’s wide open!”

  Nish sighed. “I wish I was going to Hockenheim,” he said wistfully. “I’ve got to host the F1 experience in the conference suite on Sunday and commentate on what’s going on. Honestly, the sort of people that book into that…” He looked glum.

  “Come on, Nish,” I urged robustly, pinching his cheeks. “Get your smiley face on! That’s what you’re paid for, Petal. 24/7 Ambassador remember?”

  Nish grimaced.

  “What should I do about my flat?” I swopped the subject back to the one most exercising my mind. “I’ve got to go back now to pick up some overnight things and my passport…”

  “Heskett just called me in and told me to change my locks and my passwords,” Nish informed me, “so I’ll get the locksmith to go along to yours after, shall I? If you give me a moment to pop down to the guys to warn them I’ll be a bit late for the simulator test, then I’ll run you home to get your stuff and you can show me what needs doing.”

  “God, thanks Nish,” I said in relief. “You’re a star!”

  After Nish walked out, I caught the guys looking fixedly at me. “What?” I challenged defensively.

  “Did we just see you pinch the cheeks of one of our drivers and tell him to get his smiley face on?” Sam asked.

  “Petal,” Ben added with a grin.

  “And your point is?” I said aggressively, folding my arms.

  Sam, Ben, and several of the others were just grinning.

  “And he just took it from her without batting an eyelash,” Zak pointed out with a smile.

  “I’d like to see her try that with Bottas,” Duncan said wryly.

  “What have I done wrong now?” I sighed resignedly. Working here was like walking through the looking glass into a weird world where I didn’t understand any of the rules.

  “I can see why the management’s set her on him though,” Zak observed to the others, ignoring my question. “She’s obviously going to do him the world of good…”

  “Chop, chop!” Alan said sharply, putting a stop to all the banter. “Fifty-five minutes till the taxi arrives, and counting!”

  The first thing I did when I got back on Monday was go straight to Nish’s.

  “Blimey, you’re actually awake for once!” I exclaimed as he answered the door.

  “How was Hockenheim?” Nish asked as he stepped back to let me in.

  “Need you ask?”

  “No,” he sighed wistfully again. “Your face is glowing…” He followed me into the living room where I had thrown myself down on his luxurious sofa. “Did you mess up at all?”

  “Course not!” I scoffed. “Do you think they’d have sent me if I was going to mess up?”

  “We saw you on the live feed on Sunday,” Nish informed me as he sat down beside me.

  I frowned. “Did you? How come?”

  “They always do a pre-race link up with one of the drivers and you were beavering away at something in the background with the rest of the team. But the cameraman was obviously intrigued with you being there, so every now and again he’d do a panning shot and make sure he got you in it, and one time you straightened up and looked straight at the camera and it seemed like you were looking straight at me, and it felt really weird…”

  “I had no idea I was being filmed,” I said uncomfortably. “Did I look ok?”

  “Sure.” He looked seriously at me. “One thing you have to remember at any Formula One event is that there are cameras absolutely everywhere and you are bound to be on at least one of them. So don’t even think of picking your nose or scratching your arse!”

  “As if I would!” I said indignantly.

  “Everyone picks their nose or scratches their arse at some point,” Nish pointed out pragmatically.

  I pursed my lips. He was right. Of course they did. And I just mustn’t!

  “How many times did they focus on Ben’s tattoos?” I queried curiously.

  Nish gave me a weird look.

  “Don’t you know about the Pit Team Tattoo Championship?” I laughed.

  He raised his eyebrows and pulled a face.

  “They try to get them on TV. The person who gains the longest screen exposure time across the different broadcasters at each venue is counted as having won that leg, and at the end of the season it gets totted up and there’s a grand winner…”

  Nish stared at me. “Really?”

  I grinned. “Yeah. You watch Ben more closely next time. He’s always posing ‘casually’ in the doorway to the garage with his arm out, exposing his full sleeve tattoo. Haven’t you ever noticed?”

  Nish’s expression told me he definitely hadn’t.

  “Yeah, Ben’s in the lead at the moment, but Kielty’s not far behind. His are really colourful so the camera tends to linger, but he doesn’t get to go to the front so often, so he’s struggling for air time. And Sam’s confided in me that he’s planning some really cool Williams F1 car portraits for his biceps in time for next season because he’s certain the cameras will be tempted into focusing on them.”

  Nish abruptly changed the subject. Tattoos obviously weren’t his thing. “About what happened before you went away…” he said awkwardly.

  I thought he was going to talk about the break-ins. But he didn’t.

  “I’m sorry about my sister’s behaviour,” he said with a frown. “I don’t know what got into her…”

  “I don’t care about her behaviour,” I said crossly. “It was you joining in with it that upset me. Why were you so cruel?”

  He stared at me. Then he bit his lip. “God, I was, wasn’t I?”

  “Yep,” I denounced bluntly. “You were sly and mean and horrible.”

  He flopped back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling as though he’d find the answer magically written up there. “I don’t know why I did it,” he confessed at last. He glanced briefly sideways at me. “Sapphie has that effect on me. She somehow always manages to suck me in.” There was a bit of a pause. “I’m sorry.”

  I sniffed and said nothing.

  As though he didn’t know how to fill the sil
ence he said, “Coffee?”

  Since he’d never offered me anything before, I accepted.

  When he came back with it I said irritably, “And why were you complaining to your sister that I was treating you like a rapist? That’s a really weird thing to say!”

  I saw him struggling with himself and then he said, “You were so prickly and edgy with me and you stalked round the flat suspiciously then refused to stay, and then when Quinn warned me off I thought you must have been saying stuff about me to him…”

  I frowned. “I know he talked a lot of crap about me swearing off relationships, which by the way is untrue, but I wouldn’t call it a warning off.”

  Nish looked away. “Last thing he said before he left on the Sunday was and if I hear you’ve laid a finger on her without her express permission then you’ll have me to deal with. Then when I didn’t answer he said do you hear me? rather threateningly.”

  I stared at him. “That doesn’t sound at all like Quinn’s usual style! What on earth got into him? I don’t remember saying anything to him to cause him to react like that…” I put my chin on my hand and thought about it a bit. Nish watched my face. “I really don’t think I’ve behaved any different with you than most women do with a man they don’t know, have I? It’s normal to keep your distance and stay safe isn’t it?”

  Nish sat back in the sofa. He looked stung. “That’s so insulting! That’s still implying all men are a threat!”

  I looked him straight in the eye. “They are, Nish. Sorry but they are, potentially at least. Until we’ve sussed out who’s trustworthy or not. Ask Sappho what’s happened to some of her friends.”

  He stared at me. “What’s Sapphie said to you?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’m just taking a punt that given the statistics of how many women have suffered either sexual abuse as a child or sexual assault, rape or other similar unwanted attention as an adult, she, along with every other woman in this country will be able to tell you a few tales that would put paid to your pious moral high ground.”