Lasting Scars

by Lenny Brando

  Kapoor ran her hand through her hair, still familiarising herself with her new hairstyle. “We’re looking at one person in particular. They told Cole that Alice was staying at the Metro. Encouraged him to 'give it to her’ and ‘smack that bitch hard’. Went by the username HardBoy97.”

  “Bloody hell. That sounds ominous.”

  “You could say. We tracked her down...”

  “Her? Thought you said he called himself hard boy?”

  “It’s easy to hide behind a username, and direct messages on social media are normally hidden from the wider public. You use them too, right?”

  “What?”

  “DMs. Direct messages.”

  “Suppose.”

  “Well it turns out Cole wasn't the only person she DM’d on a regular basis.”

  Ian swallowed. “Who was she?”

  “Do you know Jo Page?”

  Ian’s face coloured, and he nodded. “Yes.”

  “Friend of yours?”

  Ian nodded again and winced.

  Kapoor cocked her head. “With benefits?”

  Ian squirmed and shrunk back into the pillows. “What did she tell you?”

  “Let’s just say she cooperated.”

  “I had nothing to do with it. I would never do anything to endanger Alice. You know that.”

  Kapoor cocked her head at him. “Yeah? You’ve a Twitter account too, right?”

  Ian blinked. “Uh huh.”

  “You sent a tweet saying…” Kapoor pulled a small notebook from her pocket and read “LOL #champagneterrorist deletes account and flees UK after Twitter pressure!! #SouthKen. Care to explain?”

  “I was only trying to help. Someone had smashed our window with a brick. I figured if people thought Alice had fled the country, they’d forget about her. You know, leave her alone.”

  “You tell her that?”

  Ian grunted. “I took a knife for Alice.”

  “If we thought you were part of it, we'd be having a very different conversation.” She slipped the notebook into her jacket.

  “You going to tell Alice?”

  Kapoor leaned back in the chair and put her hands behind her head. “You know, there can be days in life where you look back and say, yeah, that’s when I changed. Like a moment in time you can point a finger at. A specific thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Kapoor nodded. “See, when I was in my twenties, I had boyfriend. I loved him. Thought he was the greatest thing ever. I was sure we would spend the rest of our lives together. House. Kids. Cat. You know, happy ever after and all that. All that youthful naivety.” She shook her head. “April 16th. It was a Tuesday and the sun was shining when my best friend told me she had been sleeping with him for months. I lost a lot in one instant. The love of my life. My best friend. Innocence and trust. So yes, I changed that day.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don't be sorry. Who needs friends like that? It was a lesson I needed to learn. Granted, I would have preferred to learn it in a less severe manner, but hey...” She spread her arms wide and smiled. Then she got to her feet.

  “Are you going to tell her? I mean, can’t we just, you know...”

  “Forget about it?”

  Ian nodded. “Yes.”

  Kapoor laughed. “That would be convenient, wouldn't it?”

  “It’s over. Finished. Cole’s dead. Alice is safe. What’s the point?”

  Kapoor stopped at the door and turned to him. “If you can't see the point...”

  “But if it wasn't for me, he’d have killed her.”

  “A proper hero, huh?” Kapoor put her hands on her hips. “Then I’m sure you’ll have the courage to do the decent thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  Kapoor just smiled and walked out.

  127

  For the second time in recent weeks, Alice retraced her steps from the past. With her head held high, she walked along Prinsessegade until she came to the bar. It was late in the afternoon and the place was open. She strode in and looked around. Nothing was as she remembered. Perhaps it was the light and the absence of customers.

  The barman looked up. “Hi, can I help?”

  “I used to drink here when I was a student. Haven't been back in years, guess I just wanted to see the place again.”

  “The good old days, huh?”

  Alice looked to him and smiled. “Sure.”

  “Well if you need anything, let me know.”

  “Is it okay if I take a photo?”

  “Go right ahead. Say something nice on social media too. It helps.”

  Alice wandered around until she came to the corner where she’d sat 12 years back. She plonked herself down on the sofa and wondered whether it was the same one. She took photographs on her phone and nodded to herself. After several minutes, she got to her feet, thanked the barman with a wave and left.

  Outside, she put on her sunglasses and headed to Torvegade where she stopped at the pedestrian crossing. When the light turned green, she crossed the street and thought of the last time she'd stood at that crossing. Now she kept going. Several minutes later she stood on Ved Volden and looked at the door into the apartment building. As she took out her phone and took more photos, she noticed how steady her hand was.

  At the Metro station, Alice called Connie. This time she answered.

  “Yay Alice. Sorry, I’ve been with clients all day. Have you arrived?”

  “Yes. Checked into the hotel a while ago. Can’t wait to see you.”

  “Me too. There’s so much you need to tell me.”

  “Patience, Connie. I’ll tell you everything later.”

  “You're killing me.”

  Alice laughed. “I’ll see you at 7.”

  *

  Later that evening, Alice leaned against the kitchen wall in Connie’s apartment and heard Lucas leave to buy wine for dinner. Connie looked to her and smiled. “You sure you’re okay with water? Lucas is going to splash out. He remembered the Amarone.”

  Alice shook her head. “I’ve given up on wine. At least for a while. Lost almost half a kilo already.”

  “Like you needed to.” Connie put her hand on Alice’s arm. “Stop keeping me in suspense. I’ve waited too long for the details. Tell me everything.”

  “All right then,” Alice took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m good. Therapy helps. I lost people along the way. Ian. Kristin…”

  “I spoke to her.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Uh huh. Perhaps in time.”

  “She lost a lot too. You. Olivia.”

  Alice shrugged. “Be better if she lost her suspicion and jealousy.”

  “You think she wanted you?”

  Alice laughed. “Maybe that’s unfair.”

  “Will you forgive her?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Might help.”

  “Yeah. Perhaps…?”

  Connie nodded. “I could...”

  “Might work.”

  They said nothing for a moment, then Connie asked, “What about Ian? What’s happening?”

  Alice sighed. “He was seeing someone else.”

  “What?” Connie shook her head. “Shit.”

  “I know. He claimed it was only sex, and that if I had been more interested, it never would have happened.”

  “You mean he tried to blame you?”

  Alice shrugged. “Doesn't matter anymore. But the bitch he was sleeping with encouraged the guy to rape me. Seems she wanted me to go back here and leave Ian to her.”

  “Will she get what she wants?”

  “Dunno. Can't imagine Ian would be happy with someone like that.”

  “No.”

  “It was my choice to leave. Not hers. Or Ian’s. I know Ian nearly died trying to save me, but I couldn't stay. Not after all that.”

  “You feel guilty?”

  “No. I don't see the point in carrying that weight. I want something else.”

  “
Like what?”

  “Someone new. A fresh start.”

  “Good for you.” Connie hugged her. “And what about the TV show?”

  “Can you believe they gave it Laura Bowfield?”

  “Yeah?”

  “She got an exclusive of the police storming my house. Perhaps that even swung it for her. Ironic, isn't it? The nasty, scheming bitch.”

  Connie put up a hand. “You don't mean that, do you?”

  Alice put her hands on her hips and tried to look indignant, but all she could manage was a wry smile. “No. Guess not...”

  “What then? There’s something else. I can tell.”

  Alice’s smile broadened. “I wanted to tell you in person. I’ve had an offer here.”

  Connie’s mouth opened and her eyes lit up. “Really? You’re coming home?”

  “It’s split between London and Copenhagen. Best of both worlds.”

  Connie grabbed Alice and squeezed her tight. “Yay Alice, Yay.”

  “Thanks. I guess I’ll see Mama one more time. Kasper said she’s near the end but fighting hard.”

  “Sorry. At least you made things better between yourselves.”

  Alice shrugged. “Suppose. But no matter what way you look at it, it’s sad. Sad because looking back it was pointless.”

  “Our mums and dads fuck us up.”

  “How very Freudian of you.” Alice looked at Connie’s expression and added, “I mean that in a light-hearted way.”

  Connie laughed. “I mean it in a Larkin kind of way.”

  Alice held on to Connie for moment then pulled back and looked her in the eye. “I did it, you know. Went back to Ved Volden.”

  Connie raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

  Alice nodded. “After I checked into the hotel.”

  “What did you feel?”

  Alice shrugged. “No fear. No anxiety. But I don't feel like I’m finished with it yet. It’s strange. Closure is still elusive.”

  The apartment door opened, and Lucas came into the kitchen. “Hey guys.” He hugged Alice and pulled a bottle of wine from a bag. “Amarone for you.”

  Alice smiled. “Thanks.”

  Connie put her hand up. “Lucas has some information. It might help?”

  Lucas gestured with his head. “Let’s go inside.”

  In the lounge they sat around the coffee table. “Luc,” Connie said. “Why don't you tell us what you found out about ... you know...” Connie glanced from Alice to Lucas and back again.

  Alice put her hand on Connie’s shoulder. “It’s okay.” Alice turned to Lucas. “Tell us about the rapists. Let’s call them what they are.”

  Lucas cleared his throat. “Jesper Gronning hung himself three years ago. It seems he had been suffering from depression and alcohol problems. There wasn’t much information available on him, so it’s a dead end. Literally.” Lucas looked at Alice. “However, Thorsten Pederson is alive and well. He’s a planning officer with the city. Married, three children. Normal life. No police problems. I met him.”

  Alice bit her lip. When she realised what she was doing, she stopped. “What’s he like?”

  Lucas rubbed his forehead. “In a word? Terrified.”

  “Terrified?” Alice asked.

  “I told him I was a private detective hired to investigate a rape 12 years ago. I said I had witnesses from the party in Ved Volden who claimed two guys raped a girl and one was Pederson. He almost cried when I asked what his wife and children would think if they knew he was a rapist. Then he said he was sorry. That he regretted it every day.”

  “Yeah, right,” Alice said. “Not as much as me.”

  “He knew your name. He said to tell you he didn't know what he was doing.”

  Alice nodded. “I don’t know what to say. Or what to feel.”

  Lucas shook his head. “You could go to the police. But convictions for rape in Denmark are rare.”

  “Damn right,” Connie said. “Far too rare. And sentences are too low, almost biblical in their misogyny. Even if you get convicted, righteous men might let you away with paying 50 shekels, or whatever that is in Krone.”

  “Not so sure about that, Connie,” Lucas said.

  Alice looked at Connie with a puzzled expression.

  “Sorry guys,” Connie said. “A Biblical reference. I didn't mean to interrupt. Alice? What do you think about the police?”

  Alice shook her head. “It’s been 12 years. That’s too long. The police won’t do anything.”

  “You’re right,” Lucas said. He waved his phone in the air. “Even with the recording I made of his regret.”

  Alice pointed to his phone. “With that I could probably ruin his family life, cost him his job. Make him suffer like me.” She looked around at the others. A silence fell, and no-one met her eyes.

  “I see,” Alice said. “You think that would make me the bad person?”

  “It might be best to leave it, Alice,” Connie said. “Closure?”

  “I suppose.” Alice folded her arms and turned to Lucas. “But maybe you could send me the recording, Lucas? I’d like to listen to the fear in his voice. Perhaps that will be enough.”

  “Sure. Give me your number and I’ll do it now.”

  “Thanks Lucas,” Alice said. “It feels like... like it’s over, I guess.”

  Connie stood. “Great. Let’s get dinner started. I’ll open the wine.”

  Then Alice’s phone beeped several times. She looked up at Lucas, and he put his finger to his lips. He leaned in and whispered, “I sent two mobile numbers. One belongs to his boss, the other to his wife.”

  Alice smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

  In the bathroom, Alice locked the door behind her. She leaned against the wall and stared at the phone. Several minutes passed before she came to her decision. She neither wanted to hear his voice nor accept his apology. It was too late for that.

  She checked the Danish SIM card was installed in her phone and prepared to send the sound file to both numbers. A knock on the door interrupted her. “Alice?” It was Connie. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Fine. I’ll be out in a minute. Girl stuff.”

  “Oh sorry.” After the footsteps receded, Alice stared at the screen. “Fuck you too, Thorsten Pederson,” she whispered. Her steady finger pressed send without another thought.

  After she sent the files, she removed the Danish SIM from the phone and replaced it with her UK one. Tomorrow, she’d buy another local SIM. She snapped the Danish SIM in two, wrapped it in tissue and threw it in the toilet, then she deleted all traces of what she’d done from her phone.

  As she flushed the cistern, the small cubist style painting on the wall caught her eye. She studied it for a moment, searching for the meaning. When she thought she figured it out, she smiled to herself. For their new place in London, she’d buy another Marquez photograph. Perhaps the companion piece she saw in the gallery? The one with the broken chains? Yes. That would work.

  Acknowledgements

  The debt of gratitude I owe to my wonderful wife, Sinead, is immense. Without your support and encouragement, I doubt that I would have persevered to complete the journey and write these words. For the freedom to take the time out when I needed it most, I thank you. And for the understanding you showed when I thought I was banging my head against a very hard wall, thanks for cushioning the blows. My head no longer hurts.

  To my family for reading early drafts and telling me to continue, my father Frank, brothers John, David, Colm, Peter and Stephen, thanks guys. I would thank my mother, Pat, too, but unfortunately, she’s no longer with us, however, I know she would have offered her encouragement, support and love without question.

  Thanks also to my friends, in particular Lanny, Carol and Fran. Your feedback was much appreciated. As was your patience and forbearance with drafts that were in hindsight, too raw and too early for release. I promise never to do that again.

  The professional input from my editor, Brian Langan, was invaluable. Without
Brian’s insight and advice, this book would be so much poorer. Thank you, Brian.

  Thanks to Sue in Anam Cara Writer’s & Artist’s Retreat way down in the Bearra Peninsula in far West Cork where I spent days in splendid productivity bashing out thousands of words.

  Finally, I would like to thank the Irish Writers Centre in Dublin for the courses and education on offer. Further, it is difficult to stress the importance of the encouragement and boost I got when the manuscript was highly commended in the Novel Fair 2019.

  Thank you for reading this novel and I hope you enjoyed it. If you did enjoy the story, could you please leave a five-star review for me on Amazon? It makes a big difference. I would be very grateful for your support.

  Best,

  Lenny