by C F White
“He was—is—a bit more than a mate.” Callum flicked his hair back and wished he either had a pair of scissors to cut the whole thing off or at least a band to scrape it back as the riverside breeze was wreaking havoc on it.
“I see.” Errol nodded. Just the once. And nothing showed in his expression other than that he’d heard and he understood. Callum wasn’t sure why he’d worried that there might have been any other reaction. “So, a boyfriend?”
Callum shrugged. “Maybe. I dunno.”
“Perhaps you need to ask him?”
Callum laughed and it released some of the tension he held within his shoulders. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Talk to me, Callum. I’m off the clock, but I’m still your parole officer.”
“That the only reason you’re here?” Callum sniffed, his eyes stinging. He’d never been a crier. Not even the first night when that heavy door had slammed shut and the bolt lock had echoed through the oppressing concrete walls. Not even when his bunk mate had torn up all the letters he’d tried to write. Not even when his dinner tray had been slapped out of his hands and he’d had to pick the discarded food up off the floor and eat it as a second helping hadn’t been on the cards. And not even when he’d been beaten to a pulp over a debt that wasn’t his.
But right then, he would have cried over Kez.
“I’m also a friend.” Errol dug thick fingertips into Callum’s shoulder. “And one that wants to help. You called me. You called me to here.” He waved his hand to the derelict surroundings. “The last time I stopped you jumping.”
“I ain’t gonna jump.” Callum wasn’t sure who he was convincing. “I got too much to sort out.” He couldn’t do what his mum had. He couldn’t run off, hide or even end his own life because they all now knew where Kez was. He had to settle this himself.
“Good to hear.”
“I did something stupid.”
Errol slipped his hand from Callum’s shoulder and his chest heaved with the force of his agitated inhalation. “Go on.”
“They jumped me. Few weeks ago. Mum owed them and she ran.”
“Why didn’t you come to me then?”
“Because I’d been released. I was out. I was free from my license to do as I fucking well pleased.”
“Within reason, Callum. You still need to notify me of anything that could lead you back inside. Like a change of address. Like being compromised from those who got you there in the first place. Callum, come on. I know you’re not stupid. I know you make stupid mistakes, but there’s a brain in there.” Errol flicked Callum’s temple. “You should be using it.”
“All right. I know. Don’t you think I know?” Callum’s head pounded. “But you know why I couldn’t, right? You know what happens to a grass, dunt’ya? They end up in there.” He nodded to the river. “’Cept they’re never found. In one piece, anyway.”
“So what did you do instead?” Errol’s scepticism spoke louder than his words.
Callum didn’t blame him. Errol lived this sort of shit all the time. He spent his life trying to convince those who had been caught to rat on their mates, or even their worst enemies, in order to follow the path to the top of the organised crime chain. No one would, though. That’s what petty street life was all about. You keep schtum no matter what.
“I fucked up,” Callum admitted, screwing his eyes shut. “I took some in for them. I was meant to pass it on, but the fire happened and that stash is either burned to ashes, still in that flat or being analysed by the feds. I’ll be called in soon, I know it. I was hiding out at Kez’s for a while hoping it would all just disappear.”
“It didn’t, I take it?”
“They found me.”
“Well, they have better resources than I do.”
“Come on, Errol. You know people don’t talk to the pigs.”
“I’m not police.”
“But you’re with them. Round here that means you keep your mouth shut.” Callum gripped the railing, the metal digging into his palm. “They know about Kez.”
“So that’s why you’re here?”
Pursing his lips, Callum nodded. “I can’t have them get to him. This ain’t about me anymore. It’s about him. Fuck, Errol, I can’t bear it. I couldn’t live with myself if they got to him. Or to Eve. I need this over. No matter what happens to me, I need him—them—safe.”
After a tense pause, Errol nodded. “You know what you need to do then?”
“Yeah.” Callum held out his hands, his wrists banging together. “It’s a fair cop, guv. Rack ’em up.”
Slapping Callum’s arms away, Errol tutted. “You should have done this the first time round.”
“I know.”
Errol tugged out his mobile from his back pocket and hit the Call button, placing the phone to his ear. “Hey. Got an empty? Yeah…bringing one in.”
As Errol hung up, Callum’s breath was caught in his chest. For probably the first time in his life, he’d done something right. Errol held out the phone to Callum.
“Want to call him?”
Callum stared at it. What would he even say? Nothing that would make this situation any better. Nothing that would make him see that this was right, that Callum had to do this. Would Kez even want to hear from him at all? Maybe it was better for everyone if he remained ignorant to it all and carried on with the life he had before Callum had ruined it all for him. Maybe Rafferty would have Kez back?
The thought caused bile to lurch up into Callum’s throat. He shook his head, pushed away from the barrier and headed toward the parked-up car that was to take him to where he should never have left.
Chapter Fourteen
Lost Property
For the first time in Kez didn’t know how long, he didn’t want to go to work. Dread loomed heavily in his stomach, swirling along with the thoughts of having to leave his house—the one place where he could expect Callum to show up, if he ever were to again, that was. But it wasn’t only that he could miss the chance of knocking some sense into Callum. It was having to face reality. Callum was gone. Kez knew that deep down. He wouldn’t come back. His distant memory had returned for such a brief moment, but now Kez had to shove it far away so he could resume with his life. The life he’d had to build without Callum, except it was tainted now. Callum was all over it. Callum held his breath waiting for the inevitable as though it would somehow change his life for good to the point Kez could still smell him on his skin.
And his bedsheets.
He’d shoved those in the washing machine before forcing himself to dress. He left the house, riding the Tube with a solemn undercurrent of gloom. He almost wished for a disaster to prevent him from making it to the hospital. How ironic, that things have come full circle. As he trudged over the crossroads toward the gleaming frontage of St. Cross, his home from home, the place that had saved him, he caught sight of Rafferty heading in. The heaviness in the pit of Kez’s stomach plummeted harder, to the point Kez wasn’t sure he could even walk anymore. His legs made that decision for him by stopping. Rafferty clutched a takeout coffee cup in one hand and a stack of paper folders under his arm and entered through the sliding doors. Kez hovered back, not wanting to come into direct contact with him. Another change from a mere few days ago when laying eyes on the man had made Kez erupt in a grin.
Once Rafferty was out of sight, Kez forced his feet to move closer to the doors. When they slid open, he blew out an agitated breath. Rafferty had stopped by the main reception desk and was talking to a suited woman, her severe bun scraping back her skin like a face lift. Kez checked his watch. He was in danger of being late. Epic late. As the conversation between Raff and the woman grew more serious, Rafferty focused his attention on her and Kez took the opportunity to sneak past without being seen, or at least under the pretence he hadn’t noticed Rafferty.
Quickening his pace, Kez shuffled through those heading out of the building ending their nightshift and had just about made it through the entrance doors when a toddler running away fr
om his mother caught under his feet. Kez tripped, his bag falling from his shoulder to spill its contents to the floor in a loud clang and bash the woman’s stiletto heels. And with all that kafuffle, Raff looked his way. Typical.
“Kez!” Rafferty looked as startled as the toddler now being scooped up by the mother and giving a stern talking-to.
“Hi.” Kez bent down to gather the crap he had no idea why he kept in his bag. He’d managed to put his prosthetic on that morning, so he couldn’t even use his limb to gather the contents up and scurry off. With just the one hand, he’d never be as quick.
“I’ll catch up with you later. In your office.” The woman was stern in her delivery. She was clearly one of the top execs who didn’t have time for such clumsy starts to her morning.
“Sure.” Raff waved her off. After a brief hesitation, he eventually crouched beside Kez and aided the collection efforts along. “I’d do this for anyone.” He handed Kez a notepad and several branded St. Cross pens with an arched eyebrow.
“These write so much better.” Kez blushed, taking the pens and shoving them in his bag. “And I know. Thanks.”
As they both stood, Kez adjusted his bag on his shoulder and the prolonged eye contact made Kez feel like he was under a microscope. As if Raff knew. As if he knew everything.
“How are you?” Rafferty asked, searching Kez for the answer that he hadn’t found spilled on the floor.
Maybe I just look like crap? Kez hadn’t checked in the mirror before he’d left, not having been able to face his own reflection, so it was a real possibility that his face gave away his internal anguish.
“Okay,” Kez lied.
Raff tilted his head, drawing his eyebrows in. “Are you sure?”
Hefting out a sigh, Kez shook his head. “It’s complicated.” He couldn’t tell Rafferty. He couldn’t tell him any of it. He’d already used him yesterday to talk through things and it wasn’t fair to bring him into a situation that wasn’t exactly legal. Knowing about a criminal act and not reporting it was as bad as the act itself.
“So I hear.” Raff offered a timid smile that broke Kez’s heart. “I’m always here to talk. Like I said, I’d like us to be friends.”
“So would I,” Kez admitted. He did. He wanted that more than anything. A friend would definitely be welcome about now. “Trouble is, if I tell you, that might not happen.”
“I doubt it.” The look on Rafferty’s face certainly looked genuine.
Could Kez really trust him? He hadn’t known Rafferty long, but if length of time was conducive to trust given, then Kez would be waiting forever. He’d known Callum most of his life and yet here he was…fooled again. He was just about to open his mouth and ask to borrow the man’s shoulder when a deep, demanding voice interjected.
“Kwesi.” Dr Rawlings was firmly in work mode. Suit work mode. He didn’t often don the full-on grey jacket and tie ensemble. The doctors at St. Cross tended to be more relaxed in their attire to be open and welcoming to the frightened children they looked after. A relaxed child was far more agreeable to being poked and prodded than a kid who thought they were in trouble with the headmaster. Rawlings’ suit suggested he was due another leadership meeting, or had just come from one.
“Yes, Doctor?” Kez swallowed, his throat dry. Once upon a time, he would have had to hide his lustful thoughts regarding how delectable the man looked in a tailored jacket, but all Kez could see before him was a man who had watched Callum being intimate with someone who hadn’t been Kez.
“Could I speak to you for a moment? Before you head to the office?”
“Of course.” Kez’s heart skipped several beats, punching against his chest like it wanted to escape. He kinda hoped the doctor wasn’t that good a cardiologist who he could tell that by just looking at him. If Rawlings could, he’d make for a great human polygraph. Kez wished he’d used one on Callum. The mere thought of Callum whilst Kez stood next to the doctor caused him to clench his jaw.
“I need to head straight to the examination room. Could you come there?”
Rawlings peered over Kez’s shoulder, his gaze landing on Rafferty who offered up a smile, one that ignited his whole being.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Rawlings held out his hand.
Kez scooted to the side to allow Rafferty to slip his hand into the doctor’s.
“Rafferty Carmichael.” Rafferty shook, pushing his glasses up his nose. “From Grants.”
“Oh, yes.” Rawlings nodded. “I sent you through my research proposal. Dr. Rawlings.”
“Yes, I know who you are. Researching the developmental delay in neurotypical infants after heart surgery is certainly an intriguing proposal. I’ve been looking into possible funding avenues.”
“Well, that’s good to know. Perhaps we could catch up some time over coffee and talk it over?”
“I’d be delighted.” Rafferty beamed and added a few inches to his height so that he towered over Kez and matched Rawlings’ six feet.
The doctor nodded once, before flicking his gaze to Kez then strode off, leaving Rafferty staring after him.
“I’d heard he was all sorts of attractive, but—”
“I’d caution against that.” Kez shook his head. “A long line of broken hearts.”
“His or theirs?”
Kez was about to respond with the latter, until he recalled the state of Rawlings’ office earlier that week. Perhaps that had been why he’d become an avid frequenter of some sex club? Loneliness? Desperation? Filling a void left by someone’s departure? All the things Kez assumed Callum must have been searching for. For a smidgen of a moment, Kez felt sorry for the man. Until Callum flashed before his eyes. Naked and being commanded to take two men at once. The anger seeped back after that, and the nausea.
“You have my email, Kez.” Rafferty tapped his arm. “If ever you want lunch. No romance involved.”
Kez smiled, then nodded. Rafferty practically skipped off down the corridor. At least Raff had found a new man to swoon over. The only life Kez had ruined was clearly his own. With heavy steps he made his way to the elevator and up to Walrus Day Ward where the outpatient examination rooms were set away from the in-patient bays. It might well have been ice running through Kez’s veins as he trudged closer to Rawlings’ examination room. What could the doctor want with him? Had Callum gone ahead with his ridiculous plan? Instead of coming back to Kez last night, had Callum found the doctor? Had he gone back to the club? Was Rawlings about to give him a warning? An ultimatum? His P45? One word from Rawlings and most people bowed to his every whim so the idea he could be sent on his way wasn’t that absurd. Rawlings would laugh in his face at the idea that he—the most influential doctor at St. Cross Children’s hospital—could be blackmailed by his paper-pusher and an ex-con.
Or worse, is he here to give me the money?
The door was open when he got there and Rawlings sat behind the desk, reading through the first file on his table. Kez tapped the door frame and the doctor hummed.
“You wanted to see me?” Kez stepped in, albeit with caution. And fear. Phenomenal, overriding fear.
“Yes. Please. Come in.” Rawlings kept his gaze firmly on the file. “I need your support with this first patient.”
“Support? What type of support?” Kez hadn’t ever been asked of that before. Nurses gave the support. Or play leaders. Not secretaries.
“I have had to take Dr. Khan’s morning caseload. He’s been called to a personal emergency. Too late for Lisa to have cancelled them. This first patient is…” Rawlings closed the file and twisted in his seat to face Kez. “Awkward.”
“Awkward? As in the patient is awkward? Couldn’t we get a play leader? Or maybe the SEN—”
“Not the patient as such. More the situation. And the parent.”
“I see.” Kez might as well have been blind, if he was honest.
Rawlings sighed. “Can you keep a secret, Kwesi?”
“I—Is this a test?”
“Of your
loyalty? You have a loyalty to this hospital, yes. Hence I have invited you in. I need a chaperone. Or more the patient does. A third party, perhaps. That is in the hospital’s interest. As for keeping secrets, I’m sure you’re quite good at that?”
Kez shifted. “I wouldn’t know what you mean?”
Rawlings gave him a long, hard stare. Kez might have well have been one of his medical journals—Rawlings was reading him like one.
“Your friend.”
“Callum?”
“I am sure he has told you by now. I don’t need you to confirm or deny. I would rather it be something that is never discussed, certainly not in the confines of these hospital walls. All I ask for is discretion. For, if you don’t know, I’m sure you will soon enough.”
“I don’t know what this has to do with the patient?”
“Nothing.” Rawlings twisted back to the file. “But maybe after you’ve met Daisy Monroe, you might understand a little better. This is her first check-up since her surgery a few months back and I believe she will be accompanied by her father.”
Kez had vague recollections. The name certainly rang a bell. An alarm bell. One that pierced through his skull to make him wonder what the hell was going on, and what this had to do with Callum. Should he just ask outright? He had to know. He had to find out if Callum had been to the doctor last night. More than anything, he had to know if Callum was okay.
Rawlings stood, gave a curt nod to Kez then clomped along the freshly washed floor to the waiting area. A few moments later, he returned and in skipped a young girl, her mound of dark curly hair swishing with each step. She was around nine years of age and holding her hand was a man with unruly curls to match her own. His stony-faced expression wasn’t usual for an accompanying parent to a heart check-up. Normally they had hope, or fear or anticipation in their eyes. His looked to be pure hatred.
Kez recognised the man instantly. Jacob. Ollie’s boyfriend. The one who’d kick-started all the rumours about Rawlings’ affair with the nurse.
