https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
“Poppy, murdered?” I couldn't believe it.
CHAPTER
TEN
“Poppy, murdered?” I couldn't believe it.
“Strangled,” said Philip and handed me a
brandy.
“And you think, Danny…?”
“The woman next door, Mrs. Finn, heard
them arguing. Then everything went quiet. Not long after that, she saw the boy
run off. She became suspicious and let herself in. The girl’s body was lying here
on the floor.” He pointed, and the expression ‘finger of doom’ sprung
irreverently to mind. I swallowed, spluttered, drained the glass and held it
out for more. Philip obliged. His manner, like his tone, was very impersonal. The
woman next door, he’d said, and the boy, the girl.... They have names, these people, for crying out loud. I thought of
the widow Finn and how I should go to her, she must be in such a state. Poor Popp, she didn’t have much of a life,
poor kid. And what of Danny...? He’ll
be terrified. “It must have been an accident,” I said, suddenly angry with
the whole rotten world. “He loved her!”
“You don’t strangle someone by accident,
Laurence.”
“In a temper, you might.”
“That’s true. In which case we could
well be looking at a manslaughter rather than murder charge.” He sounded
doubtful.
“But why? Why would he kill her? You
know Danny. Does he strike you as a killer? The whole scenario is absurd.”
“You never know with that sort. Let’s
face it, Laurie, they’re a couple of prostitutes, hardly your average kids next
door!”
“Kids, though, all the same.” I
retorted. “Okay, so innocence gets compromised, it happens. It can’t all be
down to the likes of Danny and Poppy.” Her name hung in the air like a pretty
balloon and brought a lump to my throat. Now was not the time to remind myself
that I hadn’t liked her much.
“It’s certainly not down to the likes of
you and me,” Philip was quick to point out. “They had a choice, Laurence. We
all have choices.”
“Sure, like you chose not to tell me
you’re a copper!”
He grimaced. “Let’s not get personal,
Laurence.”
“By all means, Philip, let’s not!” We
glared at each other. I sought salvation in another brandy but found none. “Why
didn’t you try and find me?” I muttered between clenched teeth.
“There was no real urgency.”
“No real urgency? A young girl is killed
in my own house and there’s no real urgency about letting me know?”
“What could you have done, except get in
the way as usual?” he growled, “First you screw up our plans to raid the
Battersea house. Then, just when we have a chance to take out Georgie with the
video between his fat paws, you barge in and f**k that one up as well! It’s
more by luck than anyone’s better judgement that you’re not the stiff they’re tagging
down at the bloody morgue right now!”
“Pardon me for breathing!” I was
furious. “I wanted to help those kids. Don’t ask me why, I just did. Somehow I
felt…responsible for them.”
“Responsible? If you’re what being
responsible is all about, I dread to think what irresponsible is!”
I couldn’t help myself and burst into
tears. I buried my face in my hands and rocked to and fro on the damn sofa,
even the brandy conspiring against me to make my guts ache.
“Pull yourself together, man!” He came
and sat next to me. In spite of the hostility, I felt towards him, I longed for
a comforting hug. How bloody contrary can
a person get? My breathing made a chugging noise like a train. A cartoon
I’d spotted in a newspaper only recently sprung to mind. It had targeted
commuters who see each other every day, on the same train, year in, year out,
without exchanging a word. I wiped my eyes, blew my nose and felt obliged to
apologize. “I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“Shouldn’t that be my line?” he asked
wryly.
I shrugged, for want of anything better
to do or say. “It’s been such a shock, all of it, from start to finish. I’m not
used to….”
“Sordid histrionics? I should hope not
or my job would be a damn sight harder than it is already,” he declared, but
subdued, a catch in his voice that alerted me to an undercurrent of tension
between us that had nothing to do with pimps, prostitutes and murder.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated miserably.
“And so say all of us. Now we have a
murder on our hands and Fat Georgie’s laughing all the way to Sodom and
Gomorrah.”
“But surely, the video…”
“Wiped clean by the time we finally
charged in, warrants to the right, warrants to the left and all that crap. We
can’t touch the bastard. Oh, we can have his lackeys for abduction and assault
but that’s about it. I should have made a copy.”
“There wasn’t time,” I pointed out.
“I should have made time. Instead, I got
side-tracked and messed up good and proper.”
“I’m sorry you got side-tracked,” I
murmured scathingly, “but it does take two to tango.”
“I didn’t mean….”
“I know what you meant,” I snapped,
relented, sighed and started to get angry again. “Look here, Danny can’t have
killed her. He just wouldn’t, couldn’t have, no matter how much she provoked
him. I can’t, won’t believe it. You can say what you like about Danny. It
doesn’t alter the fact that he loved the girl. Okay, so you can love someone
and still want to strangle them, but that doesn’t mean to say you will.”
“Of which I dare say I’m the living
proof….”
“You and me both, I guess.” A long,
pregnant silence followed. The word ‘love’ hung over us like the sword of
Damocles. This is ridiculous. We hardly
know each other. The sword continued to dangle precariously above our
heads.
“If we hadn’t realized in time that the
spot where we lost the van was within a five mile radius of young Danny’s
flat….”
“He wouldn’t be facing a murder charge,”
I observed with irony.
“You’d be dead, probably with a knife
stuck in your guts.”
“So would Danny.”
“I don’t care about Danny.”
“So what are you saying, that you care
about me?”
“You know I care.”
“Like hell I do.”
Another long, awkward pause constructed
a wall between us, brick by brick.
“Where would Danny go, Laurence? If you
have any idea at all, you must tell me. It’s for the lad’s own good.”
“Oh, sure!”
“It’s true and you know it. We’ve
managed to track down the parents but, frankly, neither could give a damn.
We’ll watch the mother’s place, of course, the father’s too. But I don’t think
he’ll turn up at either. He must realise we’ll have them under surveillance anyway.
Mind you, if they were my parents, I wouldn’t bother. There’s no love lost
there, believe me. You must have some idea, Laurie, surely? We need to find him
before things get any worse.”
“Worse?” I was incredulous.
“The boy’s desperate. Desperate people
do desperate things.”
“You don’t think he’d kill himself? No
way. Danny’s not the type.”
Philip shrugged. “People get desperate,
frightened. They feel trapped. There is no ‘type’. It can happen to anyone.”
“Not Danny,” I was emphatic. The more I
thought about what Philip had said, however, the faster my confidence dwindled.
“You’ll let me know if he gets in
touch?”
“If he does, I’m sure your men will spot
him before I do.” I nodded all the same. “Will you do the same for me?”
“If you promise no more heroics.” He put
hand on my knee and squeezed lightly before jumping to his feet. I nodded
again, unable to speak.
Minutes after he left, the doorbell
rang. I leapt to my feet. He must have forgotten something. Ignoring the
entry-phone, I ran to the door. I so wanted it to be Philip, the old Philip,
the one I’d once believed I was getting to know and, yes, with whom I was falling
in love. At the same time, I dreaded opening that door. What would I do, what
would I say?
Oh,
God, what a mess!
I need not have panicked as it was the
widow Finn. She took charge and I was only too happy to let her put the kettle
on and bully me into taking a bath. “You’ll feel all the better for it,” she
assured me in the same brisk, no-nonsense tone that nurse at the hospital had
used. “The police have finished here, that nice detective told me. So I’ll have
a good tidy up and we’ll have a nice cup of tea together, just as soon as
you’re good and ready.”
I readily fell in with her agenda. In no
time, the place was looking immaculate and I was feeling refreshed and half
human again. It wasn’t long before the widow was telling me how she came to
discover Poppy’s body.
“I’m not one to pry, Mr Fisher, as well
you know,” she frowned, “but when a neighbour sees fit to leave his front door
key with you, well, you have a burden of responsibility.” She glared at me as
if expecting me to contradict. I smiled and nodded encouragement.
“She arrived not long after you left,” May
Finn went on, “A police car brought her and the boy, Danny, let her in along
with Mr Adams. He didn’t stay long, though. Anyway, I didn’t think too much
about it. There have been so many funny carryings-on at your house lately.”
I examined the carpet, feeling suitably
reproved.
“Well, last night, I hear the pair of
them having a terrible argument. Her language, Mr Fisher, I’ve never heard the
like and I was in the Land Army during the war, so I don’t blush easily. I
could hear every word and they were playing pop music so loud it shook the
walls! So what did they do? Turned up the volume to full blast, that’s what. It
meant I couldn’t catch what was being said, of course, but that was probably
for the best if you ask me. Oh, the language, it was vile! Vile, Mr Fisher. Not
that one expects anything less from young people today….”
I had heard this diatribe on previous
occasions and felt bound to move the story along to what interested me most,
her finding the body. “It must have been awful for you,” I agreed, “But finding
the body, that must have been dreadfully distressing for you.”
“I was distraught, Mr Fisher,
distraught, although I have to say that came later. At the time, I suppose you
could say I took things in my stride. It was the music, you see, so loud it was,
and must have dulled my senses. Banging
on the wall was a waste of time, of course, so I decided to go round and give
the little blighters a piece of my mind. That’s when it stopped, just like
that, all of a sudden. Perhaps if I had come round anyway…” she glowered at me
even more intently as if holding me personally to blame.
She
might well have a point, I reflected unhappily. I should never have left Danny alone so soon
after everything that’s happened. As usual, I had been too wrapped up in my
own feelings to give much thought to anyone else’s. I saw the widow’s eyes
glisten with tears, and realized that any hint of reproach there was directed
at herself not at me.
“The silence was even more deafening…”
she rasped, “Not long afterwards, I happened to be at my window and saw the lad
run off. Pelting down the street, he went, as if the devil himself were after
him. I was instantly suspicious, of course. Who wouldn’t have been? Not that I
subscribe to the view that being young is the crime of the century, you understand.
Indeed, no. I was young myself once. But youth should be a time of halcyon days,
not the nightmare young people seem bent on putting themselves and the rest of us
through these days. A young girl dead, boyfriend on the run, and this used to
be such a nice neighbourhood. Whatever next?”
“Was Poppy dead when you found her?” I
prompted.
“Oh, yes, I could see that at once. I
felt for a pulse, of course, but it was quite hopeless. So I called the police,
and waited.”
“You waited by the body?”
“Good Lord, no. I went into your kitchen
and took the liberty of making myself a cup of tea. The police were here in
minutes, an ambulance too. The whole street must have been outside gaping and
gossiping. It was horrible, horrible….”
We sat in grim silence for a while.
“How could such a these terrible thing
happen?” she cried plaintively, “You hear about such things all the time, of
course, but you don’t expect it on your own doorstep!” She slumped forward in
her chair. I rushed to pour her a brandy. She kept shaking her head but finally
took a sip then drained the glass and held it out for me to dispense another
ample measure before proceeding to interrogate me with unrelenting
thoroughness. “Where would the boy go? Home, perhaps. He must have one
somewhere.”
I related what Philip had told me. She
shook her grey-white head pityingly. “Small wonder he’s turned out the way he
has then. Oh, that poor boy, he’ll be
feeling so alone.” She gave a soft, uncharacteristic moan followed by a
likewise uncharacteristic fit of hiccups.
As I watched her reach for the brandy
without waiting for an invitation, I found myself wishing yet again that I’d
taken the trouble to get to know the old girl better. We had lived far too
insular a life, Harry and me. And who’s
fault is that? I reproached myself bitterly. No wonder Harry had tried to
break out of the snug little prison I had inadvertently made for us. I had let
him down as surely as I had let Danny down. “I should have stayed with the lad,
I mused aloud.” He must have felt
abandoned too, just like Harry.
If the widow heard, she gave no sign. “Did
he ever speak of anyone or any place that might have been special for any
reason?” she insisted and it crossed my mind that she was making a better job
of questioning me than Philip. “Someone, somewhere he might feel the need to go
back to, if only for the sake of happy memories…?”
As I, too, had gone back, I reflected
ruefully. For, yes, they were special, my family, all of them, even my
bloody-minded brother, Stuart. And, yes, there had been happy times, lots of
them. I should have tried harder to make them understand. Harry had frequently said
much the same thing. But I had leapt on my high horse and clung on for dear
life to our cosy, exclusive existence, uncluttered by interference and threat
from the outside world. Yes the outside world would not be bested, but had broken
into my deluded idyll and taken Harry from me.
Jesus,
what have I done?
I suddenly remembered, Southend.
Danny had talked once, briefly, about a holiday in Southend before his
parents split up. He had only been six or seven years old at the time.
“It has to be worth a try,” the widow
agreed, “When things are bad, it’s always the good times that call us back and,
God willing, give us the strength to carry on,” she added with a huge sigh.
“In the hope, I suppose, of other good
times. Not that anyone’s future ever lay in the past!” she added dryly. “Still,
needs must as the devil drives, I dare say,” she reflected prior to another
noisy bout of hiccups.
My own thoughts, meanwhile, were tearing
ahead. I hadn’t unpacked. My holdall was still in the hall where I’d dumped it,
my mother having made sure all my dirty clothes had seen the insides of a
washing machine and a hot iron before I left. I reached for the mobile and
called the local railway station. I swore inwardly. It was times like this I
wished I could drive. Even so, I worked out that it would only take me about
two hours to get to Southend.
I left the widow Finn helping herself to
another brandy and set off. Several times I sensed I was being followed. Fat Georgie’s henchmen or the police? Consequently,
I found myself diving down back alleys and doubling back with the intention of
catching a bus to any tube station other than the nearest. I felt foolish. At
the same time, it was exciting, like being in a spy movie. Who’d have thought it, an ordinary Joe like me? It just goes to show.
I could not stop myself brooding on the train how one minute life is like a
comfortable pair of slippers and the next it’s using you for a punch bag.
It was late afternoon and a light misty
rain was falling when I arrived in Southend. I took the little railway along
the pier and wandered back, getting soaked, on the lookout for any sign of
Danny. I roamed the prom and streets for hours. Nothing. I might as well have
been looking for a needle in a haystack. I checked out every café and amusement
arcade. Eventually, I sank wearily into a window seat in a pub to watch the
people go by and a brassy dusk settle over the sea.
What next? I had tried all the likely
places and it was only a long shot that Danny might be here at all. I watched a
gull circle, swoop then soar in a long, graceful arc before heading out to sea
over the few heads still bobbing about on the rainy beach. The beach! I could
have kicked myself for not trying. rain or no rain, the most obvious place of all.
A beach in the rain at twilight must be
one of the saddest places on earth. In my mind’s eye, I saw deckchairs and
people sunning themselves, children making sandcastles. Every size and shape of
human form was running to and fro, gleefully dripping at the water’s edge. I
heard cheerful shouts, boisterous laughter and ice-cream chimes. I spotted a
Punch and Judy show with a crowd of alternately cheering and jeering mums, dads
and kids having the time of their lives. Memories of long summer holidays came flooding
back. Not here,at Southend, but I could have been anywhere. I remembered taking
my brothers Alan and Stuart for donkey rides because they were too scared to go
on their own and neither parent could be cajoled into abandoning his or her
deckchair. So I’d volunteered and saved the day. I grimaced, reflecting how I
stood precious little chance saving the day here and now.
Did my brothers, too, remember those
days, I wondered? I doubted it….
A dog barked somewhere and jerked me out
of my daydream. The twilight had turned from misty amber to a dull yellow. I
stood and looked out to sea, glimpsed white horses loping towards me in a
gloomy distance and had decided there was no point in staying do I might as
well go home when I spotted a lone, familiar figure some yards ahead.
Danny was standing stock still, staring
into space at the water’s edge. The incoming tide lapped at his feet and, as I
approached, I saw that his trainers were soaking wet. He cut a pathetic,
bedraggled figure. Beads of fading light caught up in raindrops gave the
illusion of a halo around his sandy head. His profile, turned only slightly
away from me, might have been chiselled out of white marble. I was rooted to
the spot, fascinated. It was if I perceived the image of a young god, this
dreary patch of coastline a ruined temple.
He must have sensed my presence because
I hadn’t moved. He turned slowly. For a long time, he said nothing and neither
did I. When he found his voice, it was shaky, aggressive. “What do you want? What’s
your game, eh?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” I said
quietly.
“Why?”
“Because…I care about you.”
“Why?” he demanded again, “Why should
you give a toss about the likes of me?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I just do.
There but for the grace of God and all that….”
“God?” his tone incredulous, “Who the f**k’s
He when He’s at home then?” We began walking very slowly across the thickly
shadowed beach towards flickering lights on the prom. “What made you come here
anyway?”
“A shot in the dark,” I told him, “You
once mentioned that you were very happy here years ago.”
“Years ago, yeah,” he muttered,
“bleeding donkey’s years….”
We walked on. The sun had become little
more than a lemon-coloured haze on the western skyline, the moon a faint
crescent among a few stars and lots of ogre-shaped clouds. I stopped and so did
he. Together, we watched the sun’s last desperate glow disappear. Meekly and
without protest, we let it suck us into an exquisite, fathomless after-dark.
“Why did you do it, Danny?” I asked at
last, disturbed that I should have put it to him so directly when I was
supposed to believe in his innocence.
It was a long time before he replied,
his back to me, his chin tilting westwards. “I had to come. I don’t know why, I
just had to. It was a mistake, though, like just about everything I put my
bleeding hand to….” He paused and, intuitively, I waited. “I loved this place.
We came here, Mum and Dad and me. It was the only holiday I ever had. I even
used to dream about it. It sort of used to keep me going when there didn’t seem
much point in carrying on. But nothing stays the same, does it? Everything’s
different. It ain’t a patch on how I remember it. So now I ain’t even got that.
No home, no Poppy, nothing….” He turned to face me, his profile in deep shadow.
“I thought I could come here, turn the clock back and everything would be okay.
How daft can you get, eh?” He laughed, a horrible retching sound that yanked at
my nerve endings and made me want to retch.
“What about Poppy, Danny?” I prompted,
“WHAT ABOUT POPPY?” In that unholy, gut-wrenching gloom, my voice sounded
unnaturally loud although I could barely manage a hoarse whisper.
“She’s made her bed, let her lie in it,”
Danny muttered, “See if I care!”
A gull came out of nowhere, shrieking as
if raising an alarm, and hovered directly above our heads for a split second
before pursuing its ghostly path across the vanishing landscape.
A man’s voice called, “Who’s there?” A
woman’s giggle struck me as mildly hysterical. We ignored both, Danny and I,
and no one bothered us again.
“Answer the question, Danny,” I tried
again, “Why did you do it?”
“She asked for it, that’s why. I didn’t
mean to, it just happened. Even after everything what’s happened, the silly cow
has to go and fall for it, doesn’t she? Fat Georgie promises her the earth and
she’s on her knees gagging for it. I can’t go along with all that bullshit any
more, it’s screwing me up so bad it’s driving me into the bleeding ground. But
Poppy, she can’t get enough. The funny thing is, I love her. I do, guv, honest.
I really, really, love her. I thought she loved me too but….” He sighed, “I got
that wrong too, as usual.”
“Is that why you killed her?”
In the stunned silence that followed,
Danny took several stumbling steps towards me until his hot breath was like
steam hissing in my face. “Killed her? What sort of crap talk is that? I ain’t
killed anybody. F**king hellfire, guv, are you trying to scare me or what?” His
distress seemed genuine.
“Poppy’s dead, Danny. She was
strangled.”
He stared at me, eyes bulging. “No!” he
let rip with a pitiful howl, and ran off. I chased after him, the implications
of his denial running riot in my head. I was glad, of course, so much so that
it took a major effort of willpower not to pee in my pants. But if Danny hadn’t
killed Poppy…who did, and why? It made no sense.
I ran all the harder. By the time I
brought him down with a flying rugby tackle, I had all but convinced myself
that Danny was lying. I had expected a struggle. Instead, Danny simply lay face
down in the shingle, sobbing his heart out. “It’s not true, it can’t be true,”
he sobbed over and over until the sobbing became a scarcely audible whimper….
As I recovered my breath, compassion
overcame scepticism. I pulled gently at the youth’s shuddering shoulders. He
turned and collapsed, distraught, in my arms. We had been running towards the
sea’s edge and a rush of icy water soaked our legs as we knelt in the weird
parody of an embrace. It occurred to me that neither of us was in any fit state
to catch a train. As for confronting the police with the unlikely prospect of
Danny’s innocence…that, too, was best postponed until the next day. For, as I
held the shivering youth, each of us eagerly feeding on the other’s body warmth
and a fierce spiritual closeness for comfort and reassurance, I changed my mind
and reverted to instinct. Danny was no killer.
“Come on, let’s find a hotel. We’ll grab
something to eat, get a good night’s sleep and take tomorrow as it comes.
“I didn’t do it, guv.”
Another wave splashed us.
“I believe you,” I said and the
expression of relief on his puffy, tear-stained face was all the reassurance I
needed. I booked us into a nearby hotel and the receptionist gave me a look
that was anything but friendly as I paid for our rooms with my credit card. She
kept an eagle eye on the pair of us while she telephoned the company, plainly
disappointed when the transaction was confirmed.
We both relaxed in my room after a
shower and a hot, three-course meal, courtesy of Room Service. Neither of us
felt much like talking. It was Danny who broached the subject closest to our
hearts over coffee. “What happened, guv? How come Poppy’s …dead?” He could
scarcely bring himself to say the word. Much calmer now, he was wearing one of
my shirts and a pair of red boxer shorts while his jeans dried out.
I told him all I knew. “Now it’s your
turn,” I told him after a long, thoughtful silence.
“I didn’t mean to hit her, it just
happened. But I didn’t kill her, guv, I swear.”
“I believe you. Now, take me through it,
just as it happened….”
“I lost my rag and…she sort of got in
the way of my fist….” He became tearful again.
“I was provoked, guv, honest. I’d never
hurt Poppy, never.”
“Go on. You had a punch-up and…?”
“I was so angry. But she wouldn’t let it
go, and we ended up on the floor. I was on top of her. My hands were at her
throat. Her face was turning red then purple. Suddenly, I realized what I was
doing. Jesus, I was so scared I nearly shit myself. I let go and ran off. But
she was still breathing, I swear. She saw me grab the video and said something.
Only, she could hardly speak so I dunno what it was she was saying. I just knew
I had to be somewhere else, get as far away as bleeding possible just as fast
as I could before….” He he began shivering again. I tossed him a jumper. He
flung me a lopsided grin as he pulled it on. I had a sense of the old
streetwise Danny for the first time in a while, and decided I much preferred it
to this snivelling wreck of a youth sprawled opposite me in an armchair so huge
it appeared to be swallowing him up.
“Video?” I started and pricked up my
ears.
“That’s what we rowed about. Fat Georgie
told her to keep it safe for him. More fool, the pair of ’em if you ask me. He
promised she’d get to star in some sort of blue movie, the mother-f**king
toad!”
“What video?” I insisted, thoroughly
confused.
“What d’ye mean, what video? You know
what video. The one what got us all into this mess in the first place!”
“But Philip said…”
“Oh, him!” Danny snorted dismissively.
“Coppers, they think they know it all. But that Phil, he’s as thick as two
planks, just like all the rest. Georgie spots I’m being tailed, right? So he
does another swap. He takes off the label, sticks it on some Mickey Mouse vid,
then gives the original to Poppy, spinning her a line about how it’s a prezzie
for his little granddaughter. Do the cops look twice at it? Nope. Anyway, it
ain’t Poppy they’re after, except for rescuing or so they reckon.” He burst
into a spasm of forced laughter that made my blood run cold. “That’s my gel!
She can run rings around the Old Bill with her eyes shut…at least, she could.”
The laughter froze on his lips and he began to cry again. “That bastard
Georgie, he always could talk her round with his sweet talk and promises of big
money and how he’d see to it she got rich pickings.”
He sniffed noisily.
“It never bothered her much what she had
to do for it. I guess she was sick. Only, I never saw it, never wanted to see
it. She was special, you see. I ain’t never had anyone special before, not
anyone who thought I was special too….”
He sniffed again.
“We didn’t have much but at least we had
each other. I suppose you think that’s bleeding pathetic? Well, you’d be right,
I reckon.” He glared at me, fiercely self-defensive, but his lower lip was trembling
and he was still crying.
“Not pathetic,” I said gently, “just
sad, very sad.”
“Don’t patronise me.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to understand.”
“I don’t need your understanding or your
pity. I don’t need anyone. I managed on me own before, I can do it again.”
I shrugged. “If that’s the way you want
it.”
Danny dabbed at his eyes with a tissue
and blew his nose. I helped myself to more coffee while we sat through another
long, uneasy silence and struggled to collect our thoughts.
“I’ll go down for this, won’t I?”
They’ll shove me back in one of those shit-holes for juveniles,” he shouted
without taking hi eyes off the floor.
“Only if they find you guilty,” I
pointed out, “which you’re not, so you’ve nothing to worry about,” I added
hastily.
“Of course they’ll find me bleeding
guilty! Look at me. What chance do I have? Besides, I’ve got form, haven’t I?”
He spat at the carpet then glared directly at me. “Do you know what it’s like
for people like me in those places? You’re expected to spend half the time with
your arse spread and the other half going down on anybody who has a fancy for it,
and that’s plenty, believe you me!” He began rocking to and fro, clutching his
stomach, his face grey, almost the same shade as my hair. “I can’t go though
all that again, I can’t! I’ll top myself first, I swear.”
I went and stood in front of him,
grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. “Don’t you ever say that again, never,
do you hear me? Don’t even think it! Where there’s life there’s hope. It may be
the oldest cliché in the book but it also happens to be true. What good are you
to anyone dead and what good is anyone to you? So just you hang in there until
we get this mess sorted. Promise me, Danny.”
“What’s it to you anyway?” he demanded,
tears streaming down his face.
I hesitated. “You once said I was the
nearest thing to a dad you’ve ever had. Well, I guess you’re the nearest I’ll
get to having a son. It may not be an ideal package but it’s the only one on
offer. Take it or leave it. I can’t promise you much, only that I’ll do everything
in my power to help you and make things easier for you.”
We regarded each other warily.
“Can you promise they won’t bang me up?”
I shook my head. “No promises, Danny,
but I’ll try. Here’s my hand on it. What do you say? Do we have a deal?” I held
out my hand. He stared at it then scrambled to his feet.
“A fat lot of good that’s gonna do me!”
he retorted and stormed out of the room.
I spent yet another restless night
sifting through a mish-mash of conscience and emotion. I was angry, upset,
confused, you name it. I had put my heart on the line for Danny, and although
he had chosen to trample all over it I still felt much the same way towards the
lad. It was ironic that, at forty-plus, I should suddenly develop paternal feelings.
Ironic indeed. That these should seek to express themselves in a streetwise
rent boy, his first perception of me as a potential client, was nothing short
of ludicrous.
My thoughts turned, naturally enough, to
my own father, for once with a fondness that helped settle me down and drift
off to sleep.
I was rudely awoken awakened by a huge
brown bear, opened my eyes to find it towering over me on its hind legs, growling
and gesturing urgently with its paws. Even wide-awake, I seemed to feel its fur
rubbing against my bare legs, hear persistent grunting sounds in my ears.
Something was terribly wrong.
I crawled out of bed, pulling on a pair
of jeans before venturing into the corridor. I tapped on Danny’s door. No
reply. I told myself that I was behaving like an idiot and that Danny, like
most sensible people, would be fast asleep at three o’clock in the morning. I
was about to return to my own room when I heard a faint noise behind the door.
On impulse, I turned the brass doorknob and pushed. It opened and I peered
inside. “Danny?” I called softly.
In the darkness, I thought I saw some
movement on the bed. I entered and fumbled for the light switch; it was in
exactly the same position by the door as mine. The room came alive with light.
I scarcely had time to take in Danny’s inert form on the bed, when I was
grabbed from behind. A gloved hand clamped tightly over my half open mouth.
Something cold was pressed against the side of my head. Out of the corner of my
eye, I could make out the unmistakeable shape of a gun barrel.
“Try and play the hero, Fisher, and I’ll
kill you,” a man’s voice purred in my ear.
I nodded, terrified.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Fat
Georgie. My mind grappled with this likelihood with no
thought of heroics. I could feel the man’s bulk prodding me, smell his
distinctive deodorant.
“Get over there, hands behind your head,” he
snarled. I hastily did as I was told. Danny
lay perfectly still on the bed, eyes closed, his
face ashen.
“Is he dead?” I ventured to ask.
“Not as dead as you’ll be if you don’t
shut up and do exactly as I say,” Georgie observed and proceeded to study me
with a beady, penetrating gaze. I felt as if ants were crawling all over my
body. “You are a nuisance, Mr Fisher, a bloody nuisance.” Careful to keep me
covered with the gun at all times, he reached for something on the bed and
pocketed it.
“Home entertainment?” I enquired
sarcastically, assuming the video was the same one all the fuss was about.
He chuckled. The fat, sweaty face
beamed. “Quite so. I take it you’ve had a preview?”
I nodded. “Don’t tell me, let me guess.
It wasn’t to your taste.”
“It’s sick,” I got angry, “Like you, you
fat moron.”
His expression turned ugly. “Didn’t
anyone ever tell you it isn’t polite to call people names?”
“People, not animals,” I said with an
air of bravado I was far from feeling. I should have known better, of course,
but I had some mad idea that if I could provoke him enough, he would make a
mistake and give me an opening.
Obviously, I had seen too many James
Bond movies.
As Fat Georgie continued to point the
gun right at me, a chubby finger tightening on the trigger, my alter ego was
forced to acknowledge it was behaving like
a reckless prat. Slowly, he lowered the gun. My immense relief, however, was
short-lived. “Not here, I think,” glancing at Danny and back at me. “Oh, the
rent boy-client scenario may well have worked before, all things being equal so
to speak. Only, they weren’t, were they, equal I mean? I fancy your friend Fanny t Adams is unlikely
to be taken in.”
“His name is Philip,” I said unable to
swallow a catch in my voice. “But, yes, you certainly botched that one up,” I
agreed.
“No, Mr Fisher, you did, you and a pair
of fools. I, though, am no fool. Why do you think I’m holding this gun myself?
If you want a job done properly, do it yourself, as my dear old granny used to
say.”
“If she could see you now, I’m sure
she’d be very proud of you,” I murmured scathingly. He flinched and gave a
tight smile, but said nothing. “So what happens now? Are you going to shoot
us?”
“Nothing so crass, I can assure you.
Besides, the boy isn’t a problem now he no longer has the video. He assured me
there are no copies and I believe him. Our Danny will come to with a nasty bump
on his head and I dare say a splitting headache. But who cares? He’s rent. He’s
scum. Even if he blabs, who is going to believe him? As for the video, the police
believe it no longer exists. I have no worries on that score. You, though, Mr
Fisher, you are a worry to me.”
“What can I do or say without the damn
video?” I protested, “I’d have thought I’m in much the same boat as Danny as
far as you’re concerned. No one’s likely to believe me either.”
“Ah, but they might. You talk, people
listen, and I’m in big trouble maybe. I don’t like the sound of that, Mr
Fisher,” he hissed between clenched teeth.
“So?” I tried to sound confident,
nonchalant even, while so scared I thought I’d wet myself.
“So place both hands by your sides and
keep them there. I really would prefer not to shoot you. For your information,
however, you will see I have taken the precaution of fitting a silencer to my
little friend here. If I have to shoot you, I will. No one will hear a sound.
Nor, I can assure you, will I miss.” He laughed, thick lips between massive
jaws jerking obscenely. As the last, deep throat rattle died away, he farted
noisily. “After you, Mr Fisher,” gesturing with the gun.
I stopped by the door and turned. He
darted forward, pushing me against the door, the gun barrel digging into the
nape of my neck. “Where are we going?” I stammered.
“For a quiet stroll, just you and me.”
“Can I get dressed first?”
“No need for that, you’ll do nicely just
as you are.”
I winced. I was wearing only boxer
shorts under my jeans, a tee shirt and stood in my bare feet. “You’re mad,” I
muttered.
“And you, Mr Fisher, have far too much
to say for yourself.” He snatched a handkerchief from his breast pocked and was
stuffing it between my lips before I realized his intention. Ignoring my
muffled protests and pressing the gun barrel even harder into my flesh, he forced
it into my mouth. It felt like a wad of cotton wool and I nearly choked on it. Instinctively,
I raised my right hand to yank the gag free.
The gun pressed against me even harder. “Hands
down, mouth shut and keep them that way…or else,” the pimp hissed. Behind
rimless specs perched on a cauliflower nose, a pair of button eyes glittered, full
of malice and determination.” He farted again. I grimaced. So did he, only his
was a look of pure evil. Seconds later we were walking along the corridor, down
the back
stairs and through a Fire Exit into the
street, encountering no one. For a second time, I found myself heading for the
beach.
The night was damp. Paving stones, like
blocks of sandpaper, chafed the soles of my feet. A man and woman turned a
corner and approached us, arm in arm. I felt a warning stab of cold steel in
the small of my back. Tempted though I was to try my luck as the pair drew
level, the pressure on my spine increased perceptibly and I thought better of it.
Nor did I want to place the lovebirds in danger too. I managed to push at the
gag with my tongue so that a scrap of silk protruded but in vain. The couple
passed by with eyes only for each other, their hollow footsteps like a banging
of nails in a coffin. Mine, I wondered?
The beach loomed up at us and we walked
on. “Stay where you are,” the familiar hissing sound stopped me in my tracks.
“Now, take off your shirt and jeans.”
“What?” I could not believe what I was
hearing, “It’s bloody freezing!”
“Take them off, now,” the hiss became a
low bark. I did as I was told, shivering as much from fear as the chill night
air. “Now keep walking. No, leave them there,” the voice rasped as I bent to
retrieve my clothes.
We walked to the sea’s edge, wet sand
tickling my toes, shingle pricking my bare feet and waves crashing around my
ears until my mind’s eye was forced to witness the destruction of Babylon.
“Keep walking,” chuckled the pimp. Icy
water lapped at my feet, covering them. It dawned on me what he had in mind. I
panicked, stopped and half turned. The gun caught me a glancing blow on the
forehead. I stumbled further into the water. At the same time, I tugged the gag
from my mouth and tried to scream. But my mouth was parched and I could only
manage a pathetic croak. Chest high in the water now, I swung round with difficulty,
splashing, just as a fresh wave hit me and caught me off balance. I fell face down
into the murky water and only vaguely heard the sound of shots.
I had swallowed mouthfuls of water
before a burning desire to live took hold of me. Somehow, I found the strength
to scramble up, spluttering furiously and scared witless.
More shots blasted into a jaded
moonlight streaking eerily over land and sea. I staggered towards the shore,
buffeted by waves and frequently doused by them. Yet I stayed on my feet this
time and waded towards the shore, marginally less frightened of Fat Georgie
than of black, freezing cold waves, likewise out to get me. Not for the first time
in my life, I wished I could swim. Instead, I could but lift up a mute prayer
to a Godwhose existence I doubted, and persevere.
The bullet hit me with the force of a
high voltage electric shock. I sank to my knees. Another wave drenched me and
sent me flying. I found my feet, fell again, and found them again.
Someone shouted my name. It wasn’t
Georgie’s voice. I waded towards it, waves shoving and dragging at me in quick
succession. All the time, I kept swallowing salt water, retching, trying to
concentrate on hauling myself forward, increasingly aware of an agonizing pain
in my chest. Another wave had a mule’s kick and I fell, my strength almost
gone. I let several waves roll over me before I realized I was lying on sand. I
began to crawl on my hands and knees.
The moon had disappeared behind a
blanket of low-hanging cloud. I heard my name called again and strained every
aching muscle to see in the gloom.
Sudden;y, I spotted it, the outline of a
shaggy bear on its hind legs. It dropped to all fours and came bounding towards
me. I felt its hot tongue on my face, grabbed a fistful of fur and let the
beast drag me out of the water.
I heard the voice again. But, no, a
different voice this time. More voices. More shouting. “Laurie,” someone
murmured at my ear, so tenderly that I wanted to believe it was Philip.
Strong arms gripped my shoulders while I
vomited almost non-stop for several minutes. “Are you okay Laurie? Are you
hurt? If that fat bastard has hurt you, I’ll kill him.” It was Philip’s voice.
My reeling brain barely had time to register the impossible when I felt my
feeble hold on consciousness slip away. I was happy enough now, though, to clamber
on the bear’s back and trust the beast to carry me wherever it would.
The first thing that struck me when I
opened my eyes was that I was dry. Next, I began to appreciate how the sun was
shining brightly, in a clear blue sky, through a window just across the room
from the bed where I lay bare-chested and bandaged. Then I realized I was in a
room of my own, not a general ward. This came as an enormous relief, not least
because it meant I could have a stab at putting my muddled thoughts into some kind
of order at my own snail’s pace.
A nurse came in, smiled but seemed
harassed and said nothing while she took my temperature and pulse, noted them
down on a chart at the end of the bed then left me to my own devices with a
brief, “You’re doing very well, Mr Fisher. A doctor will be in to see you shortly.”
My next visitor, however, was not a
doctor but Philip Adams. He grinned and perched on a hard chair beside the bed.
“What am I going to do with you, eh?” It was my turn to grin if a trifle
sheepishly. “Whatever, we can’t keep meeting like this or people will talk….” I
chuckled, and then winced involuntarily as
the wound in my chest wasted no time asserting its disapproval.
“Danny…?”
“Danny’s fine. He’s sleeping it off at
your place. Don’t panic. Your brother Marc has temporarily moved in and promises
to keep an eye on things, especially young Danny. The widow Finn is keeping an
eagle eye on the pair of them, so no worries there.”
“Fat Georgie?”
“Under arrest along, with a few others
with whom I dare say the press will have a field day in the not-so-distant
future. So you can relax and stop worrying.”
“So how….”
“How did we strike it lucky by the skin
of our teeth? Good question.” he rubbed his chin and frowned, “When I called to
see you, the widow was in a bit of a state….”
“Drunk, I imagine!” I laughed then gave
a yelp. Yet again, my wound gave me cause for regret.
“She was well over the top,” Philip
chuckled, “ but reasonably coherent. She told me you’d gone to Southend to look
for Danny, although I have to say I couldn’t make head or tail of her rambling
explanation. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure I’d heard right and thought no
more about it until a report came in at the station, confirming Fat Georgie had
been spotted in Southend. It had to be too much of a coincidence even if it
didn’t make much sense. I got scared for you, Laurie. Our George is a nasty
piece of work and way out of your league.”
“You can say that again!” Then I
remembered, “The video!”
“Relax. It’s in safe hands,” Philip
assured me and looked grim, “A neat little trick, that, and one I should have
fallen for in the first place!”
“So how…”
“Did we put two and two together? We
didn’t. Not long after I arrived at Southend nick, Danny turned up in one hell
of a state with some garbled tale about you having been kidnapped by Fat Georgie.”
“Danny?” I was slightly incredulous.
“Yep, our Danny, walking into a cop shop
of his own free will! It was so unlike him, I felt inclined to believe every
word he said. It took a little longer to convince the D.I. that I wasn’t
completely off my rocker, but once the penny dropped it was all systems go. We
were cutting it pretty fine, as it turned out.”
“He wanted to make it look as though I’d
drowned myself….” I shivered.
“Oh, he’s full of bright ideas alright.”
“Will the video see to it that he goes down?”
“For a long time. It puts him and some
very important people in the frame for rape, murder, you name it. If it’s sick
enough, it’s on that tape.”
I shivered again. “Murder?” I repeated
then, cried “Poppy! Danny didn’t do it, Philip, he didn’t, couldn’t have….” I
became agitated. Philip leaned forward and gently forced me back against the
pillows. By now, I was panting, each rasping breath accompanied by a shooting
pain in the chest. His face was close to mine. In spite of everything, I wanted
to fling my arms around his neck and kiss the full, earnest mouth. I did no
such thing, of course. I had neither the strength nor much hope that he would return
my embrace.
Philip waited until I was calm. “Danny’s
in the clear. A couple of Georgie’s pals were watching out for young Poppy.
When Danny ran out of the house after he and Poppy argued, they had no idea he
had the video so he wasn’t a priority. Even so, one of them tailed him to the
railways station while the other broke in at the back of the house and surprised
Poppy. She put up one hell of a fight,” he added, “He says it was an accident, that
he didn’t mean to kill her, just….”
“Just what?”
“She was raped, Laurie.”
“Oh my God, that poor kid!”
“He denies rape, of course, says she was
up for it.” He hesitated. “She was only fifteen, by the way. Danny’s been
telling porky pies about his age as well. He won’t be sixteen until next
March.”
“They should have been at school instead
of….”
“Yep.”
“You hear about these things but you
only half believe them until they happen to you…”
“In spite of the marks on her neck, it
seems she wasn’t strangled. It looks as though the poor kid hit her head,
probably during the struggle. That’s what killed her. The pathologist says it’s
an unlucky chance in a million.”
“So the bastard might not even go down?”
I was appalled.
“Oh, he’ll go down alright. Not only for
GBH and underage sex either. He pops up in the video, too.”
“Poor Poppy. Oh, shit!” I railed at the
world’s injustices.
“You said it,” Philip agreed.
At that moment a woman doctor arrived to
give me the once-over. Dismissing Philip with a glance, she examined my wound.
“You can go home, Mr Fisher, we need the bed. We’ll be in touch with your GP
and you may need more painkillers. Otherwise, you’re in fairly good shape.
Lucky for you, it’s only a flesh wound. You’ll need to visit Outpatients to
have the stitches removed.” She smiled, effecting a remarkable transformation
from dragon to very attractive young woman.
Half an hour later, Philip drove me
home. Apart from filling me in on a few more details, conversation was detached
and impersonal. A reception committee was on hand to greet us. No sooner had we
parked outside the house than the front door opened and Danny ran to the gate.
Nick Carter and Marc stood in the doorway while the widow Finn emerged from her
own house to greet us.
Are you okay, guv?” Danny demanded
anxiously.
“I dare say I’ll live,” I assured him.
“You don’t sound too sure,” murmured
Marc who had left Nick in the porch and come to the gate.
I shrugged and smiled, much relieved
when he smiled back. His handsome, boyish face was flushed with pleasure, a
fraternal intimacy I couldn’t have put into words and was content not to try.
We all crowded into the kitchen and the
widow wasted no rime providing a pot of tea and a light spread, into which we
all tucked in with relish. She also saw to it that Danny assisted by handing
round plates of various goodies. I couldn’t help noticing that he’d become very
subdued. When he volunteered to help with the washing up, I really began to
worry. Each time I tried to catch his eye, he obstinately refused to look at
me. Yet he had appeared so pleased to see me earlier. I couldn’t make him out
at all.
Philip was the first to leave after
first reminding Danny and me that we were required to call in at the local nick
and make full statements within the next twenty-four hours.
Danny nodded sullenly. I saw Philip to
the door, more than slightly put out by his officious manner. We shook hands.
His touch excited me but I resolved not to show it. “Thanks again,” I mumbled.
What else was I supposed to say? I owed the man my life, but that did not alter
the fact he had betrayed not only my trust but also my affection. Well, hadn’t he? I began to wonder if it
really made so much difference that he was a copper. “I could have loved you,”
I murmured inaudibly as I watched him go, and then returned indoors feeling grumpy
and, yes, lonely.
The widow Finn and Danny remained in the
kitchen while Marc, Nick and I drifted into the sitting room. It was not long
before Marc rose and, looking embarrassed, made an excuse to use the loo. Nick,
meanwhile, remained firmly seated.
“Are you two an item?” I couldn’t resist
asking after Marc had left the room.
Nick Carter shrugged. “Maybe, one day. I
like him a lot.” He paused and flung me a challenging look, “Do you mind?”
“Not any more,” I admitted, “I hope it
works out for you both.”
“Do you really mean that?” He sounded
surprised but pleased.
“I said so, didn’t I?” I grinned, and he
grinned back. He looked different, more relaxed than I had ever seen him. We
went to shake hands but, of one accord, moved into a brief hug. It was an
impulsive embrace between friends, nothing more, except that we had discovered,
perhaps for the first time, a genuine liking for each other.
“Marc and I were worried sick when we
heard what happened. I still can’t believe it. You might have been killed. You
have to be the world’s most unlikely hero, Laurence!” He let rip with a burst
of nervous laughter and I remembered, just in time, not to join in.
“I’m no hero.” I had to chuckle in spite
of the pain in my chest. “I’m just a selfish nerd who follows his instincts and
never stops to consider the consequences, for himself or anyone else.”
Nick unexpectedly kissed me on the cheek
at the door. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Laurence. There’s nothing wrong
with your instincts that a little thought can’t lick into shape.” He turned to
Marc who was coming down the stairs, “I’ll wait for you in the car.”
Marc followed me back into the sitting
room.
“Tactful of Nick to give us a few
minutes to ourselves,” I commented dryly, and eased myself gently into a chair
opposite my brother.
“He’s a nice guy/I like him a lot,” came
the even-tempered response to which I made no reply. “I like him a lot,” he
repeated.
“Good,” I said, my mind elsewhere. For
it had already turned to another matter, one that I considered of equal concern
to us both. Even so, I had to take several deep, painful breaths before telling
him about plans our mother and sister were hatching for a family get-together.
“Is that why you went, to organize peace
talks?” He sounded even more doubtful about the likely outcome than I was
feeling.
“I’m not sure why I went but it has to
be worth a try, don’t you agree?” I endeavoured to sound optimistic. “If we
show willing, maybe they can meet us half way at least. I’m guessing it hasn’t
been so bad for you as it was for me, but...”
“Bad enough,” he interrupted sharply. “And
half way would be good enough for you?”
I shrugged. “There’s no point in
expecting miracles. And it has to be better than nothing, surely?” I countered,
“Better foundations we can build on than walls to keep bashing our heads
against, surely?” I suggested wryly. “True, there’s a lot of work to be done.
But, who knows? Between us we might yet drag our family into the twenty-first
century...”
“Yes, kicking and screaming!” he
retorted but a grin on his face took the sting out of his words. I experienced
a pang of…What, guilt? Not so long
ago I’d have passed much the same comment. Had things changed so much then? Had
I changed? It’s hardly surprising if I have,
I reflected grimly. Certainly, recent traumatic events had left their mark. At
the same time, maybe they had but acted as a trigger of sorts for home truths with
which I had been playing hide-and-seek for years. It was a sobering thought.
“It’s a start,” I said, “Family is
family, after all’s said and done. If things don’t work out quite to our
liking, well, so be it. At least we’ll have each other.”
He coloured and gave me a shy smile that
made him appear much younger and very vulnerable,
not unlike the little brat who had called me names on that Sunday twelve years
ago. “I’d like that, Laurie.”
“Me too,” I agreed and we arranged to
travel home together in a few days. At the door, we hugged; it seemed a natural
thing to do.
Left alone, I sat and brooded for ages.
Finally, a blast of pop music overhead provoked me into attempting to take the
stairs two at a time, and quickly realising my mistake. I had to sit down for a
while for the pain to recede. Finally, and very gingerly, I took the last few
stairs. Words of a much media hyped artist and pop song blaring in my ears, I
had to bang on the door of the spare bedroom to stand any chance of making
myself heard.
Danny took his time before appearing,
immediately adopting a defensive stance as he stood aside to let me enter. “We finished clearing up, me and Ma Finn.”
“Less of the Ma,” I said shortly, “ It’s
Mrs Finn to you. You can turn that racket down, too. If you must play music so
loud, use my earphones.”
“It ain’t the same,” he protested, with
a logic that confounded me utterly. But he turned down the volume, and then
crossed to the window while I sat on the bed.
“Why did you let me think you were
sixteen?” I demanded.
“I can’t help what you thought, can I?”
“You should be at school.”
He turned, looking grim and white faced,
“Are you going to turn me over to Social Services?” I shrugged, preferring not
to consider that I hadn’t given the matter any thought.
“Can I at least stay here until Poppy’s
funeral? I won’t be any trouble, guv, honest. Phil said it might be another
week before they’re…finished with her…and we can set a date.”
This simple request stung me to shame. I
hadn’t forgotten poor Poppy, only pushed her death, conveniently, to the back
of my mind, Danny’s private torment along with it. “You can stay as long as you
like,” I said on impulse.
“Like, how long?”
This time I chose my words more
carefully. “I’ve applied for a transfer at work. If and when it comes through,
I’ll be moving out of London and going to live up North.”
His face dropped. “So can I stay till
then?”
I nodded. “Then you can decide whether
or not you want to come with me.”
“How do you mean?”
I took a deep breath. “If you decide to
come with me we’ll look for a house, a school for you and…”
“School?” he pulled a face.
“You aren’t old enough to leave school
yet,” I reminded him, “and you have a lot of catching up to do. Maybe we can
sort you out with a Further Education college or something, we’ll have to see.
Even so, we’ll have to go through Social Services, but I imagine they would rather
it be me than them takes you on, especially as you’re nearly sixteen anyway.
It’s your decision, of course. But think carefully about it before you do
anything stupid like running off again,” I cautioned sternly, “Here’s a chance
for you to….”
“Live happily ever after?” he muttered.
I could feel his resentment, almost touch it.
“You can’t make me go back to school,
you’re not my dad!”
“No,” I agreed, “but I’d like to be your
friend, if you’ll let me.”
“A rent boy and a queer. Do you honestly
think anyone’s gonna buy that, especially Social bloody Services?”
“It’s like I said, Danny. You’re nearly
sixteen, I don’t think they’ll want the hassle.”
“And you do?” He was quietly
incredulous.
I pressed on, giving voice to an idea
that had been running wild and unformulated in my head for a while. “It’s up
you, of course. We’ve been through a lot together in a very short time. I can’t
deny it’s been a shock to the system, for you too. But after this little lot,
the rest has to be child’s play, I reckon. But it’s up to you,” I repeated.
“I’m game if you are.”
“So where’s the catch?”
“The catch, Danny, is that you pull your
weight with the chores, go to school like any normal kid, and if that means
homework, so be it.”
“Don’t want much, do you?” he grimaced.
“The point is, do you?” I retorted. We
glared at each other and I had the feeling I was wasting both my time and my
breath.
“Why should you help me after what I
did? I nearly got you killed, for crying out loud.”
What could I say? “These things happen.
Besides,” I added dryly, “I gather I have you to thank for my rescue from a
watery grave.”
“I suppose I was a bit of a hero,” he agreed
with chuckle.
I got up. “Think about it, Danny, that’s
all I’m suggesting. There’s no rush….”
“We’d probably get on each other’s
nerves something rotten.”
“Probably.”
“So, why?” he insisted.
“Because, like it or not, I happen to
care about you,” I snapped with growing impatience and some embarrassment. I all
but fled the room as much as the pain in my chest would allow, and left him to mull over the unlikely prospect of our
setting up home together.
Half an hour or so later, Danny joined
me in the sitting room. I was taking some painkillers with a cup of tea while a
bland made-for-TV movie ran its predictable course without grabbing my
attention. “Guv?”
“Yes?”
“I care about you too,” he mumbled and
tears began to stream like rivulets down his face.
I hesitated. “I suppose you’re too big
for a hug?”
He grinned and flung his skinny arms
around my neck. A warm glow spread through me as I held the sobbing youth
close. My aches and pains didn’t matter. We stayed like that for several minutes
before Danny broke away, his face crimson with embarrassment, and ran upstairs.
“Three down and one to go,” I told my
Christmas cactus on the sideboard. I had made my peace with Nick, Marc, and now
Danny. All I needed to do now was sort out my feelings for Philip Adams. Fat chance. I sighed. Not only had I no
clue how to approach the man, but also no clear idea what I expected from him. Who am I kidding?
The cactus was saying nothing, but a
character in the TV movie began yelling as if on cue, “You have to go for it,
man, go for it!”
Yet, time passed and I neither contacted
Philip nor did he attempt to get in touch with me. I returned to work the
following week, leaving a loudly protesting Danny in the care of May Finn. A
social worker had called twice and, for now at any rate, it appeared Danny and
I were to be left to our own devices, especially after the widow had agreed to
help out. Marc and I were due at our mother’s that weekend. While I hated
leaving Danny, the widow declared that a break from each other would do us both
good, besides pointing out that I could hardly take him with me. Time enough, I
agreed, for my family to get used to the idea that I intended living with a
former rent boy.
It had proved to be a difficult but
promising weekend. Marc and I threw ourselves into a spirit of compromise and
goodwill. Even brother Stuart and his wife grudgingly conceded that there was
something to be said for family values, prejudice not being one of them. Eventually,
we all agreed to stay in touch as a family. Only time would tell what degree of
consensus was down to the efforts of our mother and sister behind the scenes
and how much rested on spent emotions.
“I wonder what dad would have made of it all,”
I mused aloud on the drive back to London.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” said
Marc at the wheel. “But I think he’d have been pleased, don’t you?”
“Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I just wish I
could share your optimism.”
Marc pulled into a leafy lay-by. “I told
dad I was gay just before he died.” He stared straight ahead, watching the
antics of fat thrushes squabbling over a worm on a nearby branch. “Mum had told
me not to say anything but I had to, while there was still time.”
“So what did he say?” I prompted after a
long silence, during which I could tell by his expression that my brother was
reliving the moment.
“He said not to worry, that it was okay,
how I’d be okay too and how much he loved me.” My brother turned to me with
tears in his eyes. “He said he loved you too, and how sorry he was that he
hadn’t understood sooner. He said it was a generation gap thing but that was no
excuse, how he wanted to see you but was afraid you wouldn’t come, that you wouldn’t
be able to forgive him.”
Two grey squirrels began chasing each
other up the tree. The thrushes flew off into a leafy sky.
“I wish I’d known,” I said at last. I
wanted to cry, but not for sadness. I felt oddly lightheaded, as if a huge
weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
“I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages.
I guess I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”
“Some weekend!” I heaved a sigh and
grinned. “Blessed are the peacemakers, eh!” He grinned back and, without
further ado turned the key in the ignition.
Poppy was cremated a few days later. Her
parents had been contacted by the police, but shown no interest. It was left to
her grandfather to attend to all the funeral arrangements. Apart from Danny and
myself, he was the only other mourner present. It was a bleak affair. Danny
looked smart in a dark suit, white shirt and black tie but also, I reflected
sadly, frailer even than the old man.
As the curtains closed and the coffin
moved away, I found myself thinking about Harry. Grief, still raw, was
exacerbated by my concern for Danny and a deep sorrow for poor Poppy. I’d have
given a lot for someone to put an arm around me and let me know I still counted
for something. Instead, I gave Danny a hug. He glanced up at me. A look of
frank gratitude on the pale face, as he struggled unsuccessfully to hold back a
flood of tears, reassured me that I hadn’t misjudged the moment.
One afternoon, a few weeks later, my
boss called me into his office and confirmed that my transfer had been
arranged. “You can start from the first of next month. That will give you time
to find a place to stay and set a few wheels in motion regarding something more
permanent.”
”It’s not long,” I groaned.
“Take it or leave it.”
“Oh, I’ll take it.”
“Good,” then, “I’ll be sorry to lose
you, Laurence, you’re a good worker.” I was pleasantly taken aback for he
wasn’t a man given to dishing out compliments.
In the workroom, the news quickly
spread. Craig Barton, an old adversary and dedicated follower of homophobia,
called out to me, elbows resting on his desk, a broad sneer on his pockmarked
face. “We’ll miss you Laurence. It won’t be the same, will it folks, without
the office pervert?”
A few people laughed uncomfortably.
“Why, are you leaving too, Craig?” Nick
Carter piped up.
Everyone roared. Barton scowled. “Very
funny. Oh, and since when were you a pouf lover, Nick?”
“Since I started to take pride in
myself, why? Being one too, this is….”
The silence was deafening.
“You’re queer?” Barton was genuinely
surprised.
“Got a problem with that, have you?”
Nick looked around. “Does anyone else have a problem with it?” Nobody spoke.
“Okay, get on with some work, you lot. I
don’t pay you to sit around and gossip!”
yelled my boss through the half open window of his office. We did, but only
after Nick gave me a wink that left me
unable to concentrate a hundred per cent for the rest of the day.
“Why did you do that?” I asked him later
at the bar of the Flying Horse.
“I felt like it. Not before time
either,” he added with a light, easy laugh I hadn’t heard before.
“Talk about burning bridges...!”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Who knows? I like
to think it’s all about building new ones. Let’s face it. The chance doesn’t
come along every day. Besides, life’s too short. Anyway, there’s legislation
now. If anyone tries to put a spoke in my wheel, I’ll sue.” He grinned. “In the
meantime, life goes on and mine’s another pint.”
I was about to order when several
colleagues arrived and wandered over to join us. After a strained start, we settled
down to a good-humoured hour or so of drinking and banter before going our
respective ways.
It felt less of a wrench to leave London
than I’d anticipated. I soon started to enjoy my new job, having left Danny
staying with the widow Finn, and found a cosy B&B. When I took some leave
to go house hunting, Danny travelled up on the train and helped me choose a
charming detached house in a quiet, tree-lined street less than half an hour’s
drive away from the centre of Manchester. The owners were anxious to make a
quick sale. Having already sold the old house, I was able to make a cash offer.
After a minimum of haggling, this was accepted.
I began to feel genuinely excited about
starting a new life. All I would miss about the old one, I reflected with some
surprise, was the widow Finn and she had promised to visit often.
On the morning of the actual move, Danny
disappeared after breakfast without saying where he was going and still hadn’t
returned by the time the removal van had arrived, been loaded, and left. I
watched it turn the corner by the old Copper Kettle and wondered what Harry
would have made of it all? I suspected he would have approved. At least, I
hoped so. It felt strange. Not only had two complete strangers cheerfully
packed up the whole of our life together and driven off with it, but also they
had done so with my blessing. Harry’s too, I tried to reassure myself. This was
no time to be having second thoughts.
As I wandered through the empty rooms, Harry
accompanied me every step of the way. “You never want to do anything different
any more,” he was complaining. “What happened to being young and spontaneous,
meeting life head-on instead of being resigned to each day as it comes? It’s so
boring, Laurie. We may be getting older but that doesn’t mean having one foot
in the grave before we’re good and ready….”
Oh, he’d say it jokingly enough, but I should
have taken him seriously. I should have
listened. , Instead, Harry had gone off and done something different on his
own, and paid for it with his life. It
wasn’t my fault, I kept telling myself, but only half believed it.
In the empty bedroom we had shared, I
spotted something shiny stuck between two bare boards where the bed had been. I
went to pick it up. It was a five pence piece. I chuckled. The room rang
hollowly with a sound likes ghosts laughing. The longer I regarded that tiny coin
in the palm of my hand, the more clearly it expressed how I was feeling. For I
couldn’t have put a price on the joy this house had brought me even if I tried.
Yet, it was time to move on. I almost, superstitiously, replaced the coin. Now you’re just being silly, I told
myself. As if to convince myself, I idly flipped the coin without calling heads
or tails, and pocketed it.
I felt so much better for that simple
act.
Hearing a sound beside me I swung round,
poised to give Danny a good ticking off for being late. Philip Adams was
leaning in the doorway, an uncharacteristically nervous smile twitching at the
corners of his mouth.
“I came to wish you Bon Voyage. I hope
you don’t mind.” But I just stood there, tongue-tied.
“Well, say something, even if it’s only,
hello.”
“Hello,” I mumbled.
He shrugged. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t
have come. I told Danny he’d got it all wrong.
I’ll go.” He turned to leave.
“Danny?” I found my voice at last, “Got what
all what wrong?”
Philip paused, his mouth twitching
again. “He came to the station and filed a complaint.” I felt my jaw drop.
“According to him, you’ve been behaving like a bear with a sore head and it’s
all down to me.”
“He said that?”
“Yep. He said a lot more too. We had a
long, cosy chat.”
About what?”
“You, mostly. Me. Us.”
“Oh? And there was I, thinking the pair
of you couldn’t stand each other.”
“Danny and I understand each other, we
always have. Liking or disliking has never been an issue.”
“You could have fooled me,” I retorted.
“You can think what you like, you will
anyway.”
“If you say so, Sergeant.”
“Inspector, if you don’t mind.”
“Congratulations,” I hadn’t meant to
sneer but could tell from his hurt expression that it was how he took it. I
wanted to apologize. Instead, I crossed to the window and looked out. The
garden, less of an eyesore than usually since Danny had done some work on it.
He was looking forward to tackling the garden in the new house. Just as well
since my own appreciation of horticulture was a strictly passive one.
“The trouble is, promotion always has
its drawbacks. I’ll be moving away, too.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, to Manchester. So we may well run
into each other.”
I swung round. “Manchester? Well, well,
what a coincidence!”
He flung me a sheepish grin. “Not
really. When the job came up, I jumped at the chance. The alternative was
moving to Cornwall.”
“Cornwall is beautiful.”
“Yes, but too far away.”
“From London?”
“From you.”
I caught my breath. “Meaning?” I
demanded, hackles and just about other self-defence mechanism in overdrive.
“Okay, I should have told you I’m a
policeman. But you’d have run a mile if I had. Anyway, does it really matter?
We all have to earn a living somehow.”
“You used me!” I flared.
“I had a job to do.”
“I bet you say that to all your
one-night stands!”
“I seem to recall, it was in the middle
of the day actually.” He glared at me, blushing so furiously that I burst out
laughing. “I’m glad you find it so amusing.”
“It’s not that, it’s you….” I stammered
“Goodbye, Laurence. Sorry to have
bothered you.” Philip’s strong handsome face turned a shade puce before he
clattered off down the stairs without another word.
“You certainly messed that up good and
proper!” Danny appeared out of nowhere.
“You had no right to interfere!” I
shouted at him.
“And you’ve got about sixty seconds before
your boyfriend rides off into the sunset!”
“It’s not even four o’clock yet…”
“So? Are you just gonna let him go? Are
you a complete nerd, or what?”
“Mind your own damn business!”
“It is my business. I’m the one who’s
gonna have to live with you, right? Well, from where I’m standing, that doesn’t
look too good. I don’t want to share a house with some misery guts moping
around the way you’ve been lately. Do you love him?”
“Mind your own damn business!”
”Do you love him?”
“Yes!” My whole body went limp. “Yes,” I
repeated miserably.
“So what are you waiting for,
Christmas?”
I pushed past Danny and fairly flew down
the stairs. Philip was waiting at the front door. He leapt forward to catch me
as I tripped on the bottom stair. We both tumbled in a heap on the floor. “I’m
sorry,” I blurted, “For everything. Can we start again?”
“I thought we just did,” he said with a
broad grin, and kissed me. Neither of us paid much attention to Danny’s slow
handclap.
Out of the corner of one eye, I glimpsed
a lumbering shape on the stairs. It cast a huge shadow on the wall and bore an
uncanny resemblance to a bear. I returned Philip’s kiss with renewed
confidence, the beast’s resounding roar of approval ringing in my ears like a
blessing upon us all.
“Let’s go,” I said at last.
“Hang on a mo while I go and get some
fags.” Danny pushed past us and hared off, leaving the front door wide open.
Philip shut the door and took me in his
arms. “It won’t be easy,” he murmured, and tickled the lobe of my right ear
with his tongue. “I’m not sure that society is quite ready for gay coppers. But
I’m assured by the powers-that-be that we have to change our image. That means fall
guys like me are much in demand. I guess. The proof of the pudding, and all
that,” he added grimly.
“You don’t seem too sure,” I teased.
“I’m sure about you,” he kissed me
again, “Nothing else matters. If I get stick for being gay, so be it. I’ll
survive so long as I have you to come home to after a long, hard day.”
He chuckled. “I should be able to join
you in a couple of weeks.”
“Danny…” I began doubtfully.
“Danny assures me he can live with me if
you can. So, can you?”
“I can’t wait.”
“Do we have to…wait, I mean? It’s not
like we don’t have the whole house to ourselves.”
“Down, Rover, down!” I giggled, and so
did he. Even so, we settled for a cuddle
on the stairs while we waited for Danny.
Only, Danny never arrived.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
We waited for hours. The old couple who
ran the grocery store next to the Copper Kettle assured us Danny hadn’t been
in.
Philip was convinced the lad had planned
it for the start. “You have to face facts, Laurie. Danny never had any
intention of going to Manchester with you. It’s probably all for the best,” he
added.
“We’ll have to report him missing.”
“Sure, for all the good it will do.”
“He’s only fifteen, for heaven’s sake!”
“But nearly sixteen. Then he’s free to
do whatever he likes and go wherever he pleases. Have you any idea how many
kids go missing from home every year? Hundreds. Some we find, some we don’t.
Some don’t want to be found and the chances are we won’t.”
“Danny wanted to make a fresh start,” I
insisted angrily, “He even agreed to go back to school, maybe college later.”
“And pigs might fly. Get real, Laurie,
the boy’s a loser.”
“He wanted to make a fresh start,” I
repeated stubbornly. “We both did.”
“You and I still can,” Philip was quick
to point out.
I rounded on him, furiously. “So what
are you suggesting we do about Danny, write him off?”
“Frankly, if it’s what he wants, yes. A
life on the streets is all he knows. He’d never have settled down to a decent
life. Believe me, his sort never does. Oh, they might talk about it, even dream
about it. But when push comes to shove, they run a mile. Because they know
that’s all it is...a dream.”
“And his ‘sort’ don’t deserve any better
I suppose.”
“I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is
that Danny’s not….”
“Worth the effort?”
“He’d not your average teenager, that’s
for sure.”
“You never liked him,” I said with a
bitterness that surprised even me, “but why should you? He’s got a criminal
record. He’s a rent boy, scum of the earth. Not the kind of person a police
officer wants to associate with unless he’s putting the handcuffs on! Least of
all, a detective bloody inspector….”
“If you say so,” said Philip quietly.
“But he brought you and me together
again,” I protested. “That says something for his character, surely?”
Philip shrugged. “It was his way of
saying thank you, I suppose. Nobody’s all bad and you obviously got to him.” He
grinned. “Like you got to me, you irritating bastard!”
He reached over and took my hand. I
snatched it away. “He’s in trouble,” I insisted.
“Kids like Danny always are….”
“I mean real trouble. He hasn’t come
back because he can’t, I just know it.”
“For crying out loud, Laurie, just
listen to yourself! Fat Georgie is under lock and key and so is everyone else
connected with the whole stinking business. No one is out to get Danny any
more. What would be the point? Believe me, Danny simply doesn’t matter now.”
“He matters to me,” I snapped.
“So let him go, since that’s obviously
what the boy wants.”
“It’s not obvious to me.”
“Then you’re a damn fool.”
“As well as an irritating one? Bully for
me!” I raged. He stomped upstairs. I heard the toilet flush and cascade through
the house like a flood. I suddenly imagined myself drowning, and found myself back
on Southend beach in terror for my life. Panic threatened to choke me. I tore
at my collar and the top button of my shirt went flying. I sat down on the
stairs, buried my face in my hands and wept.
When Philip put both arms around me, I
did not pull away. “Let’s go,” he said. Gently,
he hauled me to my feet.
I did not resist, but shook my head.
“Not without Danny.”
“You can’t stay here in an empty house,”
Philip pointed out, with maddening logic.
“I’ll stay next door. May Finn’s a good
neighbour, she won’t mind.”
Philip sighed with a mixture of
impatience and resignation. “You can stay at my place. We’ll ask the widow to watch
out for Danny if it makes you feel any better. The old girl doesn’t miss much,
let’s face it.”
“True,” I mumbled. The idea of staying
at Philip’s flat in Holborn appealed. Could he be right, I wondered? Had Danny never intended coming to
Manchester with me? I couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. Even so, I had to admit,
neither Philip nor Danny were strangers to the darker side of humanity. I, on
the other hand, was a mere novice, a pretty naïve one at that….
I rang Marc, who had volunteered to do a
few odd jobs for me at the new house. He was very sympathetic, told me not to
worry about the house, and assured me he and Nick would see to everything. Soon
afterwards, Philip and I were tucking into a take-away in the kitchen of his Holborn flat where he’d also produced
some cans of beer from the fridge.
I found myself wondering how people,
especially young people, survived a life
on the streets. My compassion, however, did not get the better of my appetite.
Later, in bed, I let Philip comfort me. Despatching
Danny to the back of my mind, I succumbed to an unsubtle cajoling of the flesh
without a qualm. We were soon engaging in frantic love-play. It felt so good,
so…right. When, finally, he fell fast asleep, I took his hand in mine, pulled
his arm around my waist and snuggled closer. His heaving chest tickling my bare
back, one of his legs wound around one of mine, we were, quite literally,
locked in an embrace. His steady breathing against my skin was like a summer breeze
on the back of my neck. For the first time in ages I felt safe, contented. Then
I began to worry about losing him as I had lost Harry. Oh, not suicide. But if
Philip and I should ever part again….
I toppled backwards into a yawning chasm
of half-lies, half-truths and pointless speculation. It went on and on, this
downward spiralling into infinity, and only came to an end when an alarm clock beside
the bed burst into life.
“I have to go to work,” Philip leaned
across and kissed me while reaching out with one arm to switch off the alarm.
“Must you?” I kissed him back and flung
my arms around his neck.
“I’m afraid so.” He wriggled free.
“What? No breakfast in bed?” I feigned horror.
“Breakfast, what’s that?” he laughed and
began to get dressed, “Duty calls. I’ll grab something in the canteen later.”
Duty calls. I
frowned at this reminder of his chosen profession.
He sensed my mood and kissed me again.
“I love you, Laurence. But don’t expect me to apologize for doing my job. Apart
from anything else, I’m damn good at it.”
“Don’t I know it,” I muttered tersely,
but if he heard he gave no sign. Once fully dressed, he lent down and kissed me
one more time. It was a long, warm, lingering kiss to which my heart responded,
but my mouth remained obstinately passive.
“See you later. Don’t do anything I
wouldn’t do,” he said with what was plainly a forced cheerfulness. I heard the
toilet flush in the bathroom and taps running. Feeling absurdly abandoned, my
thoughts turned to Danny. Philip popped his head around the door, “I’ll see
what I can find out about Danny but don’t get your hopes up, okay?” He vanished
before I could reply. I almost leapt out of bed and ran after him. Too late, I
heard the front door slam. Irrationally, I began to get angry because he had
left without any breakfast. My mother had always drummed into us kids that
breakfast was the most important meal of the day. “No breakfast and no good
will come of it,” she’d say. I took it personally, therefore, that Philip had
gone without, and got madder still.
An hour later found me at Ginny Sharp’s.
I nagged on the door. No reply. No surprises there, but I was disappointed. It
had seemed as good a place as any to start looking for Danny. Frustration
welled up in me. I banged on the door again with clenched fists.
“Do you mind? We like our peace and
quiet around here.” I turned to see a blonde woman who could have been any age
between thirty-five and fifty filling the doorway of the flat opposite. She was
wearing a loosely fitting green kimono with dragons on it.
“I’m looking for Ginny.” I muttered
ungraciously.
“I bet you are!” She inhaled on a cigarette
and blew a perfect smoke ring, “Only, you’re out of luck because she ain’t
here.”
“Have you any idea when she’ll be back?”
“Not a clue, sweetheart. She’s done a
runner, I reckon.”
“What do you mean, done a runner?”
“I mean exactly that, sweetheart. She
won’t be coming back. She’s gone, right?”
“Gone where?”
“That’s for me to know and you to mind
your own bleeding business.” She smiled, exposing crooked, nicotine-stained
teeth.
“I have to find her.”
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, she ain’t
got nothing I ain’t got. So if it’s business you’re after….” She sidled up to
me. I felt her stale breath on my face, reeking of tobacco and gin. I backed
away. She took the hint and retreated, scowling.
I persevered. “It’s very important that I
find her.”
“Important, eh? Well, I might be able to
help you and, there again, I might not.”
I was my turn to take the hint. I took
out my wallet. She snatched it, helped herself to a wad of notes and coolly
handed it back. “You could try the Cross but I’m only guessing…”
“The Cross?”
“King’s Cross, sweetheart, as if you
didn’t know. It’s an old hunting ground of hers, you might say. Oh, the Bill
reckon to have cleaned it up but...well, there’s only so much clearing up you
can do to a place, right? It may look like a bloody building site while they’re
sorting out the Chunnel connection, but it’s still popular with the punters.
Regulars, they know just where to go. Ginny’s got contacts, too, the sort that
knows a bargain when they see one.
“A bargain?” I was puzzled.
“Old Bill’s been sniffing around. Ginny
may have class but it ain’t class what gets you protection, it’s how you spread
it about…if you get my drift.”
I wasn’t sure that I did. “Why does
Ginny need protection? Protection from whom?”
“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you
no lies,” the woman shrugged and the bloodshot eyes narrowed. “But I’ll tell
you something for nothing, shall I?”
“Anything!” I exclaimed eagerly
“You ask too many f***ing questions!”
She slammed the door in my face.
Wearily, I made my way to King’s Cross.
It started to rain and I ducked into a small café in a side street. It did not
take long to realize that it counted at least one drug pusher and a pimp among
its customers. The pusher conducted his evil trade with a brute matter-of-factness
that appalled me. Likewise, the pimp had little to say for himself, but invited
a succession of young women wearing short skirts and heavy make-up to join him,
briefly, for a mug of tea, coffee or chocolate. I thought of Poppy and felt
physically sick. But this was King’s Cross. If I hadn’t the stomach for it, I
should have stayed away. Worse, I felt little better than a voyeur myself as I
considered the shortcomings and goings of this cruel world over the cracked rim
of my teacup.
Unable to settle, I got up and walked
out. The rain on my face was refreshing after the clammy heat of the café. I
wandered around for ages. I soon grew weary of traipsing around King’s Cross. I
gave up on Ginny Sharp too. My feet took me into the West End and eventually
the heart of Soho. I bought some grapes at the lively market and ate them as I
roamed the streets with their sex and ‘Adults Only’ video shops, nightclubs,
soft-porn cinemas and exotic sounding names scrawled on cards beside doors left
wide open to expose dimly lit flights of stairs…
What struck me most, though, was how
drab Soho was by day. There was none of the fairground-like excitement that
would descend after dark, no neon lights to get the adrenalin flowing and,
somehow, excuse the seediness of it all. I tried several gay bars in Old
Compton Street, but no Ginny and no Danny either. I stopped several prostitutes,
male and female, asking if they knew either. One pimply youth pulled a knife on
me, forced me into a doorway and demanded money. I was about to hand over my wallet
when a big woman with dyed red hair appeared and flung abuse at him. My
would-be mugger fled empty-handed. I thanked the woman profusely but she was having
none of it. “Do yourself a favour, mister, and get lost!” She merged into a
colourful scrum of passers-by, vanishing into a late-afternoon haze.
Night fell before I had even realized it
was getting dark. I grabbed a bite to eat, sent Philip a text message to say I
would be late back without saying where I was or why, made my way back to
King’s Cross and ended up sipping stewed tea in the same café. I might never
have left. The same grey, stubble faces were doing the same dirty business and
more besides. Twice, prostitutes gave me the eye. A fat man with a moustache,
whom I hadn’t spotted earlier, was encouraging them. I glowered at them, at him
too, but they just laughed. The pimp continued stroking his moustache without
even acknowledging my existence. Even so, he kept a beady eye on just about everything
that was going on inside the café and out.
Gazing abstractedly out of the
rain-spattered window, I almost missed spotting Ginny Sharp as she strutted
past an amusement arcade. That is, I was almost sure it was Ginny. I jumped to
my feet and would have dashed out and across the road right away. But the last
few weeks had taught me a thing or two. I dare not be too obvious or I might
get the poor girl in trouble. Bursting with impatience, I resolved to bide my
time, and even drained the revolting cup of tea before quitting the café with
as casual an air as I could muster.
Ginny did not recognize me at first and
was none too pleased to see me when she did. “What do you want? Clear off, I’m
busy,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth while continuing to smile at
a portly, well-dressed man about my age hovering nearby.
“I need to talk to you,” I whispered
urgently, “about Danny.” She gave me a strange look and compressed her heavily
painted lips. I followed her into a
shadowy side street. We ducked into a shop doorway. “About Danny…” I began.
“You really are a pain! Can’t you see
I’m working?”
“I think Danny may be in trouble.”
“So what’s new?”
“He’s only a kid,” I protested, “Do you
want him to end up like you?”
Her eyes narrowed, and then,
surprisingly, her expression softened. “We can’t talk here. Have you got
wheels?” I shook my head, “A place we can go?” I considered Philip’s flat but
not for long. Ginny was becoming visibly impatient. “There’s a crummy hotel
just up the road, but it’ll cost you.”
“I don’t want…sex,” I mumbled, feeling
foolish, “I just want to talk.”
She shrugged. “Sex comes cheap at the
price, talk costs.”
“How much?”
“What’s it worth?” she parried.
“Twenty pounds.”
She laughed. “I’ll tell you what. Make
it a hundred, plus the cost of the room and we’ve got a deal.” She grinned.
“I’m a soft touch, me. It’ll be the death of me yet. But we can’t have young
Danny ending up like me, can we? Heaven forbid. Besides, he doesn’t deserve…” She
stopped abruptly.
“What?” I pressed her anxiously,
“Doesn’t deserve what?” But she had moved on at a brisk pace and I had no
choice but to follow.
The room was shabby and basic, boasting
only a double bed, a battered chest of drawers and two hard chairs. “Take your
clothes off,” she told me and proceeded to peel off her top. I protested. “Do
it, now!” she repeated, with an urgency that warned me it was probably in my
best interest to comply.
Ginny was stark naked and I was in my
underpants before she went to the window and closed the flimsy curtains. “That
will keep ’em happy for a while,” she muttered between clenched teeth, and
turned back to me, “It pays a girl to be seen to be doing what a girl has to do.
Otherwise, well...she could be taken for a grass. ” She ran a finger across her
throat in a gesture that even I could not misinterpret. “I guess we’ll be
warmer in bed, yeah?” She dived under the duvet and held it open for me to join
her. “Come on, don’t be shy. I promise I won’t lay a hand on you!” She giggled.
Try as I might, I was unable to prevent an attack of hot flushes that covered
me in scarlet blotches from the waist upwards.
I lay beside Ginny in that creaking bed
and we talked. In a few words, I gave her a résumé of what had happened. I was careful
not to mention Philip, but needn’t have worried.
“So why come to me? Can’t that copper boyfriend
of yours wave his magic truncheon and find Danny?”
“He’s a detective,” I retorted without
thinking, “They don’t carry truncheons.”
Ginny laughed. “The word is, he carries
one in his pants, but only for special occasions.”
I blushed again, furiously. “So what’s
the word on Danny?” I persisted.
Ginny took her time answering. “I don’t
know much,” she said slowly, “and that’s God’s honest truth. But what I’ve
heard ain’t good.”
“Danny’s in trouble?”
“And how!”
“I knew it! It has to do with that damn
video, right?”
“So what the f**k isn’t right now?” she
pouted and lapsed into a long, brooding silence.
“Tell me what you’ve heard, please. I
know how to keep my mouth shut. No one need ever know you helped me.”
“Fat chance!”
“You said…”
“I say a lot of things I don’t mean.”
I lost my cool, grabbed her by the
shoulders and shook her. She didn’t resist and I might as well have been
shaking a rag doll. Worse, I could feel what little rapport we had achieved
disintegrating on the spot. I released her, instantly and shamefaced. “Sorry,” I
muttered, “I care about the lad, that’s all.”
“I bet you do,” she hissed, “I bet you
can’t wait to get your dirty little hands on him!”
“It’s not like that!” I was genuinely
shocked, “You have to believe me….”
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s true.”
She roared with laughter. “Do you know
what? I believe you. You are so unbelievable, you just have to be for real!” I
suspected she wasn’t paying me a compliment. “Look, if you’ll take my advice
you’ll leave well alone.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right. But I
really don’t know much, okay? So don’t hassle me. The word is, there’s somebody
who should have been in the video but ain’t. Only, he can’t be sure he ain’t.
So he’s shitting himself good and proper, ain’t he?” She had propped herself up
on one elbow and was looking me right in the eye, “Apparently, it’s someone
pretty high up and he’s got it into his head that Danny can identify him.”
“But if he’s not in the video, what does
it matter?”
“Because he was in the original, right?
That means someone has edited this geezer out. So, did Danny see the original
or not? It doesn’t matter either way. This geezer ain’t taking any chances on some little squirt like Danny spilling the
beans. He’s got too much to lose, not to mention family to protect. Danny,
though, he’s got no one. What’s to stop him blabbing to the Old Bill?”
“Someone high up?” I was mortified.
“Government, royalty, I dunno. No one
does. Or if they do, they ain’t saying, that’s for sure.”
“The police must be on to him, though,
surely?”
“Maybe, maybe not. By all counts, he
plays as clever as he plays rough. That pretty boyfriend of yours should watch
his back.”
“Danny’s no fool. If this pervert’s as
high up as you say he is, he’ll know to keep his mouth shut.”
“Maybe, maybe not. It’s academic now
anyway.”
“What do you mean, academic?”
“The word is, he’s already paid out a
cool sum to have Danny eliminated. No one with half a brain would touch Danny
with a barge pole, of course. But, there’s no shortage of brainless creeps out
there, believe you me. I heard Danny’s already been picked up. But even if he
hasn’t, it’s only a matter of time….”
“They’ll kill him?”
“Right away, with any luck.”
“Luck?” I was appalled.
“Ask yourself, what kind of demented
bastard is into snuff movies? The full horror dawned, yet, stupidly, I could
think of nothing to say. “I’ve no idea where they’ve taken him but I can give
you the number of someone who might….” She reached for a jacket on a chair by
the bed a pulled out a scrap piece of paper and a small biro, the kind you find
at any bookies. She scribbled a phone number and handed it to me. “He
specializes in S&M. Give or take, he’s not bothered. He ain’t no grass but
he ain’t into snuff either, none of us around here are. Oh, we’re no angels,
that’s for sure, but we ain’t perverts or killers either.” She glared, defying
me to contradict her. I reached out a hand to reassure her. She edged away,
teeth bared. “If you wanna paw me, fair enough, but it’ll cost you extra.” A
deep sadness threatening, to overwhelm me. I got dressed in silence, slipped
the scrap of paper into my shirt pocket...and left.
I called the number Ginny had given me.
“Luke?” I enquired tentatively.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m a friend of Ginny Sharp. I, err,
require your services.”
A long pause, and then, “Give or take?”
“Whatever you’re up for,” I said,
naively thinking this might be to my advantage.
“Take. Two hundred.” No preamble.
“Okay. When and where? I don’t have a
place of my own,” I added hastily.
“Now?”
“Sure.”
“Where are you?” I told him. He gave me
an address in Earls’ Court. “Call me when you get to the station.” He hung up.
Bemused, I headed along wet, shiny streets for the nearest Underground station
on the lookout for a cash machine.
An hour later, I found myself being
closely studied by Luke and another, older, man in the very nondescript sitting
room of a spacious apartment in Earl’s Court. By now, I was less bemused than
frightened. Luke’s shifty companion was a short, weasel-faced individual to whom
I took an instant dislike. The pimp, I wondered?
“You don’t touch his face and if he
needs stitches anywhere it will cost you extra, a lot extra,” he added as cool
as you please.
“Fair enough,” I agreed. I smiled at
Luke, a handsome hunk whose only response was a flicker of eyelashes so long
they had to be false.
Weasel held out his hands, counting
under his breath as I thrust a wad of notes into them. He nodded to Luke. “Take
the gentleman through and damn well do what he tells you. I’ll be here if you
need me,” he added. A sly glance at me, accompanied by a severe expression,
left me in no doubt this was for my benefit.
Luke let the way into another, larger
room. At first glance, it resembled a gym. A second look revealed an array of
studded collars, wall racks with leather strap holds for hands and feet, an
impressive display of whips, canes, rubber truncheons and a wet suit draped across
a vaulting horse. On a table there was a coil of rope, pairs of tights,
stockings, rubber gloves and bandanas in all colours.
“What must I do, sir?” He spoke in a
lazy, pleasant voice that took me by surprise. Why, I wasn’t sure since I’d had
no idea what to expect.
“Actually…” I coughed nervously, “I just
want to talk to you.”
“Fair enough, you’re the customer. Go ahead
and talk. Tell me what you like if that’s what puts you in the mood. Then we
can get down to business….”
“No, no,” I stammered, “I really
do…just…want to talk.”
“Don’t go chicken on me, man, I’m in the
mood for a good hiding. You can do whatever you want, but like the man said,
don’t mark my face. This is your first time, is that it? That’s okay. I’m a
good teacher. Or maybe you’ve changed you mind and would rather be on the
receiving end?”
“No, no…I’m not into…all this. I’m
looking for Danny.”
“On your bike,” he snarled.
“Ginny said you might help me,” I
blurted, “She said you weren’t into…snuff.” I could hardly bring myself to say
the word. It left a foul tasting taste in my mouth. I spat to one side. So did
Luke. I felt slightly encouraged. “Will you help me?”
“I’m no grass and Ginny knows better
than to open her big gob,” he muttered. Even so, a perceptible change in his
manner accompanied the surly tone. Still aggressive, he became subtly defensive
rather than overtly threatening. “I used to think snuff movies were a myth,
created to put the fear of God into you. I was wrong. The creeps that make them
are perverts, scum. Jesus wept! Nobody deserves to die like that.”
“So you’ll help me?” I ventured
hopefully.
He came right up to me, seized my shoulders
in an iron grip and forced me to meet his icy gaze. “What’s in it for me, eh?
Why should I lift my little finger for some smart-arse like you.”
“Because a fifteen year old boy needs
your help,” I croaked.
“And you’re so concerned for his welfare, right?
Or is it because you can’t wait to get your sick little mitts on him yourself?”
“I’m a friend of his.”
“Sure, and I’m Santa Claus.”
“I’m telling the truth!” I wailed, “I
want to help the lad. And if you can’t tell the difference between a friend and
a dirty old man, I… feel sorry for you!” I fumed.
“Don’t you dare patronize me, you stupid
ole fart!”
“What then? Would you rather I spat on
you, or maybe your sort prefers to be hogtied and pissed over? Okay, if that’s
what it takes…” Suddenly, I was past caring. Anger, tiredness and panic
conspired against any remaining vestige of commonsense, even self-respect, completing
an induction to disillusionment that had begun when I first answered Danny’s
cry for help in that sordid little alleyway.
Luke let go of me, removed a red bandana
from his neck and wiped his face with it. To my astonishment, he then grabbed
me and kissed me roughly on the mouth. I felt his teeth scrape my lips as I
gagged on his tongue. My spine tingled and there wasn’t time to wonder why. It
was over and done with in seconds. He pushed me away and regarded me with a
mocking grin. “I guess you’re on the level. My, but you’re a sight for sore
eyes and no mistake.”
“Then you’ll help me?”
He shrugged. “Give me a number I can
call and I’ll get back to you.”
“How do I know you will?”
“How do you know I won’t?” His tanned
creased into a teasing but not unpleasant smile that made him look years
younger.
I took Luke at his word.
It was in the early hours when he
called. I was lying wide awake next to Philip who was snoring softly. I reached
for my mobile phone, saw Luke’s name and was instantly alert. He gave me an
address in Hammersmith.
“You don’t know me, we’ve never met and
if you know what’s good for you you’ll leave well alone.”
“I hear you.”
“Good luck, babe, you’ll need it!” He
hung up. I shivered, glad of the warmth of Philip’s buttocks against mine,
recharging my body with a comforting heat. I turned over and studied his face.
“I love you,” I whispered, and then immediately felt guilty. Who was I to speak
of love when Danny’s life hung by a thread?
I shook Philip awake. Another tuneful ring,
but this time it was his phone. He reached for it, swearing, without opening
his eyes. I could only lie there, wriggling with impatience. There can be few
things more infuriating that having to listen to one side of a conversation, especially
at past three o’clock in the morning. I was just about to snatch the phone out of
his hand when he switched it off and slammed it down.
“There’s a big flap on. I have to go.”
He was already clambering out of bed and pulling on a shirt.
“You can’t go now!” I sat bolt upright.
“I’ve had some news about Danny. He’s in big trouble, Philip. We have to help
him.”
“Later, Laurence. I can’t worry about
Danny now!” He swore as a button on his shirt flew off.
“Philip, this is important, a matter of
life and death for heaven’s sake!” I seized his wrist as he was fumbling with a
cufflink and it dropped on the floor.
“Now look what you’ve made me do!”
“Stuff your damn cufflink!” I was angry
and upset, “Danny needs our help. Don’t you care? Listen to me, will you?”
“Danny can look after himself, he’s had
plenty of practice,” he muttered and tried to pull away, but I hung on.
“Hear me out, for my sake if not for
Danny’s. Or don’t you care about me, either?”
He had straddled and pinioned me in a
split second. “I love you, Laurence. But don’t you ever try emotional blackmail
on me. Now, I have to go. It’s my job. If you want a nine-to-five partner, you’re
with the wrong guy. So, you can either get used to how I work and what I do or…We
can discuss it when I get back. Okay?” I nodded sullenly. He leaned over and
kissed me lingeringly on the lips. Before I’d quite got my head around what was
happening, he was fully dressed and going out of the door. He paused in the
doorway. “Don’t worry about Danny. Take it from me, that kid’s a born
survivor.” A few minutes later, I heard him drive away.
I almost burst into tears. Instead, I
let rip with a string of purple oaths and felt much better for it. I called
Nick only get through to his voicemail. So I called a cab, scribbled a note for
Philip and was holding my finger against Nick’s doorbell within half an hour. .
“Who is it?” a weary voice groaned into
the entry phone.
“It’s Laurence. Let me in.”
There was a pause then, “It’s past four
in the morning!”
“Never mind that now, just let me in.” I
was shivering in spite of a heavy sweater under my anorak. I heard the familiar
buzzing sound, pushed open the door and bounded up the stone steps. He was waiting
for me on the fourth floor, looking none too pleased.
“What the devil…?”
“I need a brandy,” I said as I pushed
past him and went to help myself. “Do you want one?”
“Will I need one?”
“Probably.”
“Then you had better make it a double.”
We drank. “So what’s up?” I told him.
“Bloody hell!”
“We have to do something.” I said,
insisting and pleading at the same time.
“We?”
“I’d ask Marc, but he’s still in Manchester…”
“Yes, I miss him.” His face took on a
dreamy look that tested my patience to its limits, but he must have read the
warning signals because his tone the next time he spoke was markedly less
aggressive, almost conversational. “So you want me to help you find young
Danny?”
“There’s no one else, Philip doesn’t
want to know.”
“Wise man!” Nick exclaimed, “Philip’s
right. Danny can take care of himself. If
you ask me, this whole thing is a wind up.”
“And if it isn’t? I was close to tears. “What
if some pervert’s got hold of Danny and….” My imagination went wild at this
point, and I poured myself another generous measure of brandy. “You didn’t see
that video, I did.” My teeth began to chatter and the glass shook in my hand. I
drained it and gave the fiery liquid time to penetrate before I appealed to
Nick again. “Please, Nick. I’d rather
not do this on my own.”
“Do what exactly?”
“Does that mean you will? Thanks, mate,
you’re a diamond.”
“I’m an idiot,” muttered Nick with a
weak grin. “But no heroics, Laurence. Promise me, no heroics. ”
“I swear. If the address Luke gave me
turns out to be a red herring, so be it. But if we find out Danny’s is being
held there, then we call the police. Can I say fairer than that?”
Nick shook his head in mock despair.
“This sort of caper isn’t for the likes of us, Laurence. We’re not cut out for
it.”
“We didn’t do so badly last time,” I
pointed out, “when we rescued Poppy.”
“Sure, and look what happened to her in
the end? And look what happened to you...kidnapped and nearly killed, not once
but twice, for crying out loud! I’m telling you, Laurie, we are way out of our
league here.”
“Danny needs our help,” I said
stubbornly.
“Surprise, surprise. That kid has caused
nothing but trouble since you first set eyes on him.”
“He’s only fifteen!” I pleaded, “We
can’t just…abandon him, turn a blind eye, behave like just about everybody else
these days!”
Nick rose, yawning. “Okay, you win. Make
some coffee while I get dressed. I’m driving, don’t forget. Besides, if we’re
off into some lion’s den, we’ll both need a clear head.”
As we were about to leave, Nick ducked
back into the bedroom and returned carrying a revolver. He laughed at my
shocked expression. “Anyone would think you’d never seen one of these before.
It’s okay, it’s legit and I do have a licence. I used to be a crack shot once.
Don’t look so worried, mate, it’s only a precaution. I had it with me last
time, too, just in case….”
“You didn’t say anything.” I was
appalled.
“You didn’t ask,” he pointed out and
suddenly went into a horseplay stance, “Stick ’em up, mister, and stay right
where you are, or else...”
But neither his exaggerated drawl nor
the broad grin on his face amused me in the least. “Put that thing away!” I
felt inclined to demand he leave it behind, but there was no telling what we
might encounter. He looked chagrined and slipped the weapon into his pocket so
nonchalantly that my lips went dry. “I didn’t think normal people like us
carried guns,” I murmured.
Nick shrugged. “What’s ‘normal’ these
days?”
“Even so…a gun….”
“It’s for shooting clay
pigeons and the like, Laurence, not people. Besides, it’s empty so you don’t
have to worry I might kill someone. But they won’t know that, will they, these
people you say are out to get Danny? Better safe than sorry if you ask me. If
the worst happens, and we look as though we’re ready to fight fire with fire,
it might at least buy us some time. Or would you rather they shoot at us first
and ask questions later? We’re not playing at goodies and baddies here,
Laurence. These guys are nasty pieces of work. They mean business. So get real,
okay? And no heroics or, so help me, I’ll….” But he left the rest to my
imagination.
“I don’t know….” I continued to prevaricate.
“Okay, I don’t shoot clay pigeons, not
very often anyway. A guy raped me once and I’ve carried a gun ever since.” He
shrugged, avoiding my stunned gaze. “Then I met Chris and I’ve never so much as
looked at the bloody thing since…until now.”
“Does Marc know?”
“About Chris? Of course he does.”
I meant the rape and he knew it. But it
was none of my business. Besides, I felt embarrassed by Nick’s expression, so
animated a few moments before but now dark and strained. “Let’s go,” I said,
and went outside to wait for him. He appeared a few minutes later. I did not
ask him whether or not he still carried the gun. For one thing, I was preoccupied
with feeling guilty. I had misjudged
Nick at the outset. Now, here I was,
leaping to another judgement about the man. I had no right to do that. “Marc’s
a lucky man,” I blurted without thinking.
Nick looked surprised, but pleased. On
impulse, we shook hands. It covered a multitude of sins. We understood each
other perfectly.
Before we set off, Nick made much of
taking off his jacket and tossing it on the back seat of the car, a gesture
clearly intended to allay my fears. I relaxed but only slightly. Its presence
was like an ill omen. One minute I would shrug it off as of no consequence, the
next it was making me feel quite ill. Of course, I should have asked Nick
outright if the gun was in his jacket. But I didn’t. Instead, I fretted and
wondered just what I was getting us into. It crossed my mind that the reason I
avoided asking Nick a direct question was because, secretly, I wanted to the
gun to be there. Needs must as the devil
drives, I told myself with false bravado. At the same time, I silently
prayed that Philip would find my note in time.
In
time for what, I wondered? But I dared not speculate.
My conscience, however, continued to prick me for dragging Nick along.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
At first glance, the address Luke had passed on
didn’t have much to recommend it. Number seven was a detached house sandwiched
between neat rows of grubby terraces that might or might not have been
Victorian. In a dead-end street strewn with litter, only one of several
lampposts displayed any light. In the glare of a full moon, the scene resembled
something out of the musical ‘Cats,’ to which Harry had treated me one
birthday. Dear Harry. My feelings for
Philip remained somewhat muddled so it was only natural that I reach out to my
old friend, lover and companion for strength and reassurance. Hadn’t I always?
“So what now...?” I glared at Nick.
Nick shrugged. “Ringing the doorbell has
to be as good a start as any, surely?” His facetious tone effectively drove a
wedge between my feelings and my thoughts. I pressed the grubby bell push. No
reply. I rang again. Again, there was no reply.
“Let’s take a look round the back,” I
suggested. We were soon parked on a wide asphalt track with tall garden fences
on one side and a row of lock-ups on the other. Cars, vans, motorcycles, even a
cement mixer, were parked, haphazardly, the entire length. A nameplate at one
end read: ‘Franklin Mews’ although I have to say this pot-holed, makeshift road
bore no resemblance to my old fashioned idea of what a Mews should look like.
My eyes, unused to the moon having disappeared behind an ugly patch of cloud, I
stepped on a skateboard, and almost went flying.
“That’s right, tell everyone we’re
here!”
To my frayed nerves, Nick’s harsh
whisper sounded loud enough to wake the dead. The same notion must have
occurred to Nick. We both looked around, furtively, careful to keep an eye on
the car in case we had to make a run for it. Nothing and no one stirred. A
light went on in a window but too far away to matter. “Go and wait in the car,”
I whispered, “At the first sign of any trouble, call for help.”
“That’s all very well, but what if...”
he muttered indistinctly, but did not procrastinate for long.
I approached a garage, number seven
daubed in luminous green paint on a shiny steel door. As if on cue, it began to
open. My stomach gave an almighty lurch.
Frantically, I crouched behind a nearby motorcycle and could only hope Nick
would have the commonsense to keep his head down. I watched a shadowy figure
exit from the lock-up, climb into a small van and drive off. The door began to
close. I didn’t hesitate, but ran forward and dived underneath with only
seconds to spare before its automatic mechanism ground to a stop. It was an act
of sheer stupidity, of course. Anyone might have been waiting on the other
side. In the event, though, there was no one. Even so, my James Bond persona
quickly deserted me as I began to feel vulnerable and scared.
Gradually, my eyes became accustomed to
the gloom and a reek of petrol fumes bothered them less, I spotted a pinprick
of light at the rear, behind a Rolls Royce whose sleek, glistening bodywork
struck me as incongruous in such spurious surroundings. Forcing my limbs into
action, I edged towards it. By the time I reached a wooden trapdoor on the
floor, my flagging nerves had rallied
significantly. Making a fragile truce with a whole army of misgivings. I tugged
tentatively at its metal handle until one of the flaps gave way sufficiently to
allow a glimpse of what was going on below.
At first I could only make out three
figures moving in a ritualistic circle. Each wore a black hood with slits for
the eyes and mouth. Otherwise, they were stark naked. In unison, they bent over
what looked like a workbench of sorts and I had the impression they were
securing something. Not until they stepped back to admire their handiwork did I
see what it was and bit down hard on my lower lip to prevent myself from crying
out. So much so, it bled.
Spread-eagled, wrists and ankles
strapped down, lay Danny. He was naked and I could see his face clearly. His
expression would haunt me for the rest of my life. It was quite…blank. It could
have been a wax dummy lying there. He lay so perfectly still I thought he must
be dead. Then I saw the body twitch, its chest rise and fall with a slight,
erratic motion. One of the hooded figures knelt astride it and performed sexual
acts. “Bastards!” I swore under my breath. Somehow, I had to fetch help.
Scrambling to my feet, legs trembling, I ran back to the garage door and
searched frantically for a way to open it.
I lost all sense of time. My clothes
became soaked with sweat. I took deep breaths. They sounded like the rattle of
machine gun fire and only exacerbated my terror. I kept telling myself not to
panic. Who am I kidding? Then I’d
think about Danny being subjected to whatever atrocities those perverts had in
mind, and feel thoroughly ashamed of myself. Something that passed for calm
washed over me. I began to feel marginally less frightened.
Suddenly the door began to rise faster,
or so it seemed to me, than it had shut. I pressed myself into a corner and
psyched myself up for slipping out unseen.
I was expecting a vehicle. Instead, two
figures stumbled inside, one being roughly manhandled by the other. My stomach
tuned turtle. It was Nick, one arm caught in a savage half nelson and a gun to
his head. His captor, whom I vaguely recognized but could not place, forced him
towards the trapdoor, and then stamped twice o the flaps. What next, I wondered,
and felt faint?
At the same time, a faint whirring
noise, alerted me to the fact that the garage door was already closing. This was no time for
internal debate. As it was, I only just
managed to roll under the descending metal in time. Once free, I bent double,
trusting to the gloom to conceal me from anyone who might be on the lookout,
and hared towards the car. No one shouted after me. I collapsed into the
passenger seat, my relief at being out of that awful place so intense that I
promptly developed severe stomach cramp. This lasted for several anguished
minutes. If only I could drive. Gradually,
the cramp receded. I reached for my mobile.
Damn. I had left it behind.
Vaguely, I recalled that we’d passed a
public phone box shortly before turning into the Mews. I began to limp in that
direction. My escalating anxiety for Danny and Nick made my head spin. My
dismay at reaching Philip’s voicemail knew no bounds. I dialled 999. A crisp,
polite voice drove me mad but I was finally put through to someone who
exhibited a spark of interest. “My friends need help,” I shouted impatiently
down the line. “Their lives are in danger. A bunch of f**king perverts have
taken them prisoner. Please, help us!” I sobbed. At the same time, my garbled
plea sounded implausible even to my own ears.
“Where are you, sir?” Where was I? My mind
went completely blank. “Read out the address by the telephone, sir,” a patient
female voice crackled in my ear. I hastily complied. “Number seven,” I blurted,
“It’s number seven, some kind of lock-up garage. Please, hurry!” More
crackling. The voice grew very faint. I could only catch the occasional word
although I grasped that I was being told to stay put. My alter ego, though, had
other ideas. I abandoned the kiosk and left the phone dangling.
I had just remembered Nick’s gun.
As soon as I got back to the car, I
wasted no time extracting the weapon from Nick’s jacket, if somewhat gingerly.
It was heavier than I expected. The very touch of the thing made my flesh
crawl. It may have worked wonders for Nick’s self-confidence but it did
precious little for mine. My instincts cried out for me to wait until the
police arrived. But when would that be? By
then it might be too late. Besides, Nick had assured me the gun was not
loaded. What could I expect to achieve with an empty gun? At the same time, I
remonstrated with my indecisiveness, what is life if not a game of bluff?
I approached number seven, my tunnel
vision failing to make contact with the fact the door was open again. If I smelled a rat, my nose was not letting
on to my head.
Cautiously, I crept towards the trapdoor
and tugged at the handle with my left hand. By now, my right hand had become
used to feeling a gun against its sweaty palm. Illogically, this made it less
frightening, almost a comfort. I felt the handle slacken and was careful not to
open the wooden flap too far. I peered at the scene below. The same hooded
figures were gathered around Danny’s trussed body. I could see nothing of the
fourth man or Nick, and risked opening the flap a fraction wider. Almost
immediately, I identified Nick’s assailant and realized why he had seemed
familiar. It was the same gorilla that had let me into the Battersea house
where Poppy had been taken on that first occasion. But I could not bear to
think about poor Poppy at a time like this. I screwed up my eyes, seeking some
indication that Nick was at least alive. I twisted my head until I spotted
Nick’s head and torso. He was sprawled in a corner looking much the worse for
wear. His clothes were torn and bloodstained. He looked very scared.
Gently, I lowered the flap and
considered my options. I could and should wait for the police to arrive. But that might take ages. If these
bastards planned to kill Danny, wasn’t Nick’s appearance more likely to speed things up rather than
provoke a change of plan? It might spoil their fun, but they could ill afford
to keep Danny or Nick alive for long. Their most likely course of action,
surely, would be to kill them and dispose of the bodies as soon as possible?
I had to act now. Re-enter James Bond. Only,
it did not cross my mind, as it would have certainly 007’s, to wonder why they
were still hanging around, seemingly undisturbed, or that they might even be
expecting the likes of me to behave too stupidly for words. Who was I to
disappoint them? “Don’t anybody move!” I yelled. Simultaneously, I tugged the
flap open and descended a few steps of a ladder. I pointed the gun directly at
one of the hooded men whom I took to be the leader if for no other reason than
he stood head and shoulders above the others. “Put your hands up!” They obeyed
without a murmur. I gestured with the gun at the gorilla. “Untie the boy.” He
crossed to the bench and began loosening the straps that were holding Danny
down. “Can you walk, Nick?”
“I think so.” Nick scrambled to his feet
and began walking towards me. It was only then I saw that his hands were tied
behind his back.
“Untie him!” I shouted to one of the
hooded men. “Can you manage the ladder with Danny, Nick?”
“No way. You’ll have to help me.”
Gingerly, I put one foot in front of the
other while clinging on to the ladder with one hand. It was no mean feat. No wonder people always descend ladders
backwards. Somehow, I made it without mishap, much relieved when my feet
touched the concrete floor. My nerves, though, enjoyed no such respite. I was
very scared but resolved not to show it.
Meanwhile, Nick staggered to the bench,
released Danny, hoisted him over one shoulder and approached the ladder.
Suddenly, all hell broke loose.
My eyes were on the tall man.
Unexpectedly, he looked upwards, as if at something or someone behind me.
Instinctively, I did the same. During that split second, the gorilla lunged at
Nick. At the same time, one of the hooded men flung himself at me. My finger
tightened on the trigger, but froze. Besides, what use was an empty gun? In a
flash the weapon went flying, and so did I. Even so, my reflexes did not let me
down completely. I put up a game fight. The outcome, however, was never in any
doubt. Dimly aware of a fracas on my right, I foolishly allowed myself to be
momentarily distracted by it.
A fist crashed into my face.
Multicoloured lights descended like a flying saucer and carried me off into
sweet oblivion, the sound of a single gunshot resounding in my ears.
When I came to, I was lying where I had
fallen. My immediate reaction was surprise that I could move my arms and legs
freely if painfully.
“Did you enjoy fairy stories when you
were a nipper, Mr Fisher?” I turned my head in the direction of the voice. The
tall man, still wearing a hood, had paused while ascending the ladder, one hand
clinging to a rung. His free hand gripped the gun and pointed it at me. “I did.
I loved them. Hansel and Gretel was my favourite. I always felt so sorry for
the wicked witch, denied a fat, juicy roast in the end.” He gave a sinister
chuckle. A shiver ran down my spine. “Still, the witch was cooked to a cinder
so that was something, I suppose. Can’t you just imagine it, getting hotter and
hotter until your flesh begins to peel away and your lungs start to fry…?”
A terrible premonition hit me.
I scrambled to my feet and made a mad
dash for the ladder without a thought for the weapon aimed at my heart. I
reached it in time to observe a pair of shiny black shoes and white socks
disappear over the rim before the metal flap crashed down over my head. I
continued to heave myself towards it. Ignoring a pain wracking my whole body, I
pushed at the trapdoor with both hands. It gave slightly. I heard a noise and
guessed something had been placed on top of it. Subsequently, no matter how
hard I pushed, it would not budge.
The cellar went horribly quiet. I began
to suspect it was soundproofed. I could hear no tell-tale sounds of life above.
Nothing. Suddenly, the ladder gave a violent shudder. The whole place shook as
if a bomb had gone off. Paper-thin cracks appeared at the flap’s edges. Smoke
began to drift downwards. I descended so fast I lost my grip and fell in an
untidy heap on the concrete floor. I lay there, hypnotised by the smoke until a
strangled cry from Nick brought me to my senses.
We had been left to burn alive.
Blood was pouring from a gaping wound
from Nick’s chest. “You and your promises,” he grimaced wryly, “No heroics, you
said.”
“Sorry.” I hung my head in despair.
“Don’t be. You did what you thought was
right. It’s all any of us can do. How’s Danny?”
I knelt beside the inert form on the
floor. “Danny?” I felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one. “Danny?” I
cried urgently. The rapidly increasing temperature was beginning to get to me.
“Danny, wake up!” I became hysterical and shook the pitifully thin shoulders.
Only Nick’s hand on my arm restrained me.
Danny stirred. A single tear trickled
from one eye and down a pale cheek. I lifted him in my arms and carried him to
a far corner of the room where we huddled between two gloriously cold walls.
Suddenly, the body in my lap jerked and
went quite still.
I kept my head long enough to give Danny
the kiss of life until a groan from Nick reminded me of the poor condition he,
too, was in. “Hang in there, Nick, just hang in there!” I railed, sparing him
an entreating glance.
Nick smiled weakly and coughed up a
stream of blood. After wiping his mouth with a handkerchief, he tried to talk.
“Tell Philip to be sure and get the bastards….”
“Tell him yourself.”
“You never know, I suppose…” He spat out
more blood, “Somehow, I don’t think so though….”
The smoke was thickening.
It was my turn to have a coughing fit.
All Nick could manage was a ghastly gurgling sound at the back of this throat.
“We’ve been lucky.” he croaked.
“You call this lucky?” I wanted to laugh
but smoke filled my lungs and I had another coughing fit.
I tied a handkerchief over my nose and
mouth. Nick followed suit. I did the same for Danny, using part of my shirt
that I’d pulled off and ripped up.
“Love, Laurence. We’ve both been lucky
in love…twice.”
“Don’t try to talk.”
“Why not? What else is left? Tell Marc I
love him but…to…keep looking.” Nick grimaced horribly as another rush of blood
poured from his mouth and soaked the handkerchief. He slumped forwards and
would have fallen to the floor but I caught him and sat him up again. His body
was warm but awfully still. “Oh, God!” I cried aloud.
Nick was dead.
By now the heat and smoke were
unbearable. Panic stricken, I looked from Nick to Danny and back again. Danny
was not stirring at all now. They were dead. Soon, I too would be dead. I
felt…empty. No surging desire to live came to my rescue as it had before. I had
the weirdest sensation of being dead already.
I began to choke on the clouds of black
smoke, sparking off a flicker of resistance in me. Then I saw it. A big brown
bear loomed up at me in a smoky haze. It reared on its hind legs and fixed me
with a savage, reproachful glare. “It’s not my fault,” I yelled at the beast
and ripped the handkerchief away from my mouth, the better to make myself
heard, “It’s not my fault!”
Suddenly, I heard noises. And voices!
The trapdoor was flung open and several figures in fire fighting gear clambered
down the ladder.
The bear dropped to all fours, uttered a
rumbling growl and sloped off.
Strangely enough, my thoughts were not
of Harry, Philip, Danny or even poor Nick. All I could think about was
something Marc had said, that my father had loved me. .
“Relax and breathe normally,” a voice
rasped in my ear as an oxygen mask was expertly positioned over my nose and
mouth. I felt Danny being taken away from me. My lap felt terribly…empty.
Another anonymous face under a yellow helmet cursorily examined Nick, glanced
at the colleague assisting me and shook his head. It was all too much. I shut
my eyes and retreated into unconsciousness. Here, at least, no one could hurt,
accuse, or judge me.
Philip was sitting beside my hospital
bed when I awoke. He looked tired and grim faced but managed a smile when I
opened my eyes. “We really cannot keep meeting like this, Laurence.”
“Nick?”
He shook his head and reached for my
hand. “I’m so sorry.”
I snatched my hand away, telling myself
I did not deserve to be comforted.
“Danny?”
Philip could not look me in the eye.
“I’m sorry.” I hadn’t the heart to press for details. “I should have listened
to you,” he added contritely.
“Yes, you should,” I retorted. We did not speak again for several minutes,
the tension between us like the smoke in that cellar. Thick. Heavy.
Unbearable. “Did you catch the bastards?” I asked at last.
“All of them, except Top Dog, the one we
really want.” He sighed. “Oh, we know who he is and we know he was there. But
he got away.” He shrugged. “Take a cast iron alibi and a good lawyer and he’s
all but off the hook.”
“But the others….”
“Are saying nothing and probably won’t.
Sometimes I think there’s a lot to be said for Gestapo methods.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, yes I do. Well, maybe not….”
“Top Dog’s car, surely it must be
registered to someone?”
“False number plates. We’re not dealing
with amateurs here, Laurie. These guys are professionals.”
“And number seven?”
“The lock-up’s a burnt out wreck. The
flat’s as clean as a whistle, owned by a harmless old chap who lets out the
lock-up for a good price, no questions asked.” He groaned. “You can’t blame the
old boy for wanting to supplement his pension, I suppose.”
“But…” I spluttered, “You can’t let Top
Dog get clean away….”
“Oh, we’ll get him in the end. But…it’s
complicated. The guy has connections, Laurie, the best. That quaint notion some
people have that no one is above the law is a fairy tale. Money,
connections…they may not buy you love, but they’ll get you pretty much
everything else.”
“So he gets away with murder?”
“Quite possibly. If it suits certain
people in certain high places, so be it, our hands are tied.”
“So you’re just going to sit there and
do nothing?” I was shocked and disappointed.
“I’ve been taken off the case. This
isn’t my patch any more, don’t forget. My transfer has come through. Oh, the
bloke who’s taking over from me is a good copper, one of the best, but we can
only do as good a job as we’re allowed. Joe Public may like to believe politics
and the police don’t mix but, well, our Joe’s in for a big disappointment if he
should care to take a closer look. On the whole, we do a bloody good job. Only,
sometimes we get trampled on by the powers that be before the job’s half
finished.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this!”
“Believe it,” said Philip, “You’re a
sweet guy, Laurence, but sometimes I think you must have fallen off a
gooseberry bush and bumped your head.”
“I’ll go to the press,” I declared, and
became very excited, “That’s what I’ll do, I’ll go to the press and shout the
whole bloody mess from the bloody rooftops!”
“And you really think the press is any
more independent than the police? Oh, they do a good job, too, some of the
time. But when push comes to shove they get trampled on too, believe you me.
Sure, you can tell the world. And the world will get to know as much as the
powers that be don’t mind it knowing. Nothing more, nothing less. Haven’t you
put yourself through enough already? Take my advice, mate, and keep your head
down. With any luck, no one will get their knickers in too much of a twist over
couple of gay men and a rent boy.”
“It wasn’t like that, and you know it,”
I snapped wearily.
“Of course, I do. But once you start
shouting your mouth off, people will only pick up on the dirty bits. Lies,
truth…no one gives a toss so long as it makes a cheap ‘n’ nasty read. It’s
human nature. It’s also what sells newspapers. Get real, Laurie. They’ll put
you through a crusher and hang you out to dry.”
“So Nick, Danny, Poppy, they all died
for nothing?” I fell back on the pillows, exhausted. But I was angry and soon
rallied. “How can you fall back on clichés, you a police officer, for crying
out loud?” An irreverent thought struck me, “Not that I suppose it would do
your career much good if it became general knowledge that you’re gay….”
“It will be general knowledge soon enough.
One of my duties with the Manchester force will be to liase with the local gay
community.”
I had no answer to that. “Go away, I’m
tired,” I muttered and sought refuge in sleep.
“There will have to be a post-mortem on
Nick,” Philip murmured, “Danny, too,” he added hastily. “As soon as we get the
all-clear for the funerals, I’ll let you know.”
“Suit yourself,” I muttered
ungraciously. Nor did I open my eyes to watch him leave.
My next visitor was Marc. My mother and
sister were with him and fussed over me a lot before Mary tactfully led my
mother away, ostensibly to get a cup of tea. I could hardly bear to look at my
brother. There were lines on his face I hadn’t noticed before and he looked
much older than his twenty-five years.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered ineffectually,
took his hand in mine and was humbly grateful when he did not snatch it away.
Nick’s last words had been running through my head since I first recovered
consciousness. How could I repeat them without sounding trite or, worse, as if
I were seeking absolution?
“I miss him, Laurie. I miss him…so
much.”
What could I say? He would always miss
Nick just as I would always miss Harry. In time, though, so they say, grief
becomes less of a burden, a comfort almost, like settling in a favourite
armchair with a good book, every page a happy memory. But it would be a while
before Marc was ready for all that. Me,
too. Now, his grief was too raw, his loneliness absolute. Oh, he had me and
the family to support him. But that’s
no compensation for losing someone you
love. Too few of us, I mused dryly, are fortunate enough to find love. It
was as Nick said, we just have to keep looking for it. My thoughts wandered to
Philip. How could I love him without forgiving him? But even before I asked the
question, I knew it was myself, not Philip, whom I would not easily forgive.
How could I have been so stupid? “I’m sorry, Marc, I’m so sorry!” I sobbed.
“You mustn’t blame yourself. You only
did what you thought was right,” he murmured, unwittingly echoing Nick’s words
and making me feel worse than I did already. “Nick was a grown man, he knew the
score. You both chose to take one hell of a risk and….”
“It backfired,” I said miserably, and
then. “His last words were about you.” I felt Marc’s hand tighten over mine.
“He loved you,” was all I could bring myself to say. Marc said nothing but
leaned forward and hugged me. Tears streamed down my face. Nor were they mine
alone.
During the weeks that followed, I became
very depressed and was referred to a psychiatric hospital. Here, I was
comfortably installed as a patient without fully comprehending that this was on
a voluntary basis. I lived in a kind of dream, letting everything wash over me
without taking much in. I attended group therapy sessions but these, too, were
surreal. I was only vaguely aware of people around me and words coming out of
their mouths, but nothing made much sense. I ate, drank, and slept. Time
passed, but meant little. My mother, sister and Marc were regular visitors.
Philip came once. Later, they told me I attacked him and screamed abuse. To
this day, I have no recollection of it.
I cannot point to a particular moment in
time when I began to get well. It just…happened, slowly.
One day Marc dropped by. He was living
in London now. I broached the subject of Nick’s funeral. He seemed pleased and
talked about it for some time, describing the church service and all the
flowers. “His people didn’t want him to be cremated. I’m glad. He has a lovely
spot in the prettiest little churchyard you ever saw.”
“I’m glad, too” I said, slightly peeved.
It’s what I would have liked for Harry.
I had to dig deep within myself before I could ask about Danny.
“He’s buried near your old house. It was
Philip’s idea. Danny’s parents didn’t want to know, so Philip thought it would
be appropriate, seeing as how the time he spent there was probably the closest
he ever came to having a real home. Word had obviously got around because a lot
of his street pals turned up. They did Danny proud. It was all very moving.”
“And the vicar didn’t mind?”
“The vicar was really cool about it,
especially after Philip explained the circumstances.”
“Philip?” I pricked up my ears. “He
seems to have had a lot to say for himself,” I muttered.
“He’s a nice guy,” Marc grinned, “for a
copper.” He opened his mouth as if to say something else. Instead, he went very
quiet.
“Philip and I are finished,” I said
simply.
My brother gave me a long, reproachful
look. “He cares about you a lot, Laurie.”
“Yes, well, maybe….” I muttered, not
trusting myself to consider my feelings for Philip Adams too closely.
A week later I discharged myself and
went to stay with my mother. I told myself it was only natural that I should
want to spend some time with her. At the same time, I suspected I was only
postponing the inevitable. I was dreading the move to Manchester. My job had
been kept open for me and, by all accounts, Marc had done a wonderful job on
the house and garden. A new job, a new life, I had everything to look forward
to. Only, it wasn’t at all how we’d planned it, Danny, Philip and me. Yet, it
was an opportunity to put recent events behind me and I was determined to make
the most of it...or so I tried to reassure my mother. While the rest of the
family were not much in evidence, at least I didn’t get the feeling they were
deliberately staying away. I took my sister Mary’s son, Thomas, fishing on the
canal. We had a great time and no murmurs of disapproval found their way back
to me.
My mother was worried about Marc, we all
were. One evening she asked about Nick. “Were they…close?” I told her what Nick
had said as he lay dying. “Have you told Marc?”
I shook my head, “Not all of it.”
“I think you should,” she said slowly. I
put it to her that it would only upset him.
“Of course he’ll be upset. But it might
help him to let go…be free. Your father gave me his blessing, you know. He said
I mustn’t live alone, that I should find someone else and be happy. I won’t, of
course, and I was angry with him at the time for even suggesting such a thing.
But…somehow…it has…helped. I can’t explain. But your father and this Nick, they
understood. You should give Marc the opportunity to understand, too. Oh, not
right away, it takes time. But it’s always good to know, be sure you’re loved.
Believe me, there’s no love greater than setting someone free.”
We sat quietly for a while. I couldn’t
help but be as surprised as I was moved by what, for my mother, had been a long
speech. “Tell me about Philip,” she said at last, again catching me completely
off guard.
“We were lovers,” I said without thinking.
My mother, however, did not turn a hair
at my choice of words but proceeded, gently, to interrogate me. “You don’t love
him any more?” I shook my head.
“And if things had turned
out…differently?”
“I don’t know,” I said. It was true. Even so,
my misery deepened as I let myself dwell on what might have been.
“What about Harry, did you love him?”
I gave a start. “Oh, yes, I loved
Harry.”
“And do you think Harry would have
minded about Philip?”
“Of course not!” I wished my mother
would shut up.
“You sound very sure.”
“I am. Well, as sure as anyone can be.
Harry would have wanted me to get on with my life and if that includes falling
in love again, so be it.”
“So be it…” my mother said and gave me
one of her old fashioned looks that spoke volumes.
“You can’t compare Harry and Philip,” I
snapped, “Harry was kind and gentle. Philip…told me a pack of lies, for a
start.”
“And Harry didn’t?”
“That’s different,” I snapped again,
“Harry and I…our relationship wasn’t built on a lie even if it was a lie
that…finished it. Only it isn’t finished,” I cried, “How can it ever be
finished? I drove him into the arms of another man, other men. So much so he
didn’t even give a damn about safe sex. He couldn’t even bring himself to tell
me he was HIV positive. I could have helped him through it. People live for
years with the HIV virus. He didn’t have to…kill himself. How dare he do that
to me?” I raged suddenly, “How dare he make me responsible? How can I ever be
free of that? How can I ever be…free?” But even as I broke down in floods of
tears, I understood what my mother had been trying to tell me, what Nick Carter
and my father had instinctively known. “You know a thing or two, don’t you
mum?” I said later, over yet another cup of tea.
“I like to think it’s never too late to
learn, dear,” she replied with a sad smile. I went to her and gave her a big
hug. What would she and Philip have made of one another, I wondered
involuntarily. Almost certainly, I reflected with irony, they would have got
along like a house on fire.
The following day, I travelled to London
to see Marc. I had very mixed feelings about making the trip. While nervous
about talking to my brother about Nick, I had a good feeling about it. So was
it altruism that took me to London or was I postponing the move to Manchester
yet again? How would I cope, living on my own again after everything that had
happened? Why me? I’d kept asking
myself as my ordinary, humdrum life was repeatedly turned upside down. Yet now
the worst was over, I was apprehensive to the extent of dreading a return to
anything even closely resembling a day-in-day-out, ‘ordinary’ life. Moreover,
no matter how often I told myself that Danny would have driven me mad or Philip
and I were far better off apart, I never quite believed it.
Marc was pleased to see me at first and
greeted me with a hug. I made the usual complimentary remarks about the flat
that was, indeed, spacious and attractively furnished if not to my own taste.
As time wore on, he became taciturn and withdrawn. I suggested going for a
meal. He agreed. It was a half-hearted affair at a local Indian restaurant.
Afterwards, we headed for a pub across the road. We both drank too much. I was
looking for some Dutch courage. Marc just felt like getting drunk.
Back at the flat, I made some coffee
while he opened a bottle of rum. “Marc…” I began awkwardly once we were both
seated.
He grinned. “Whenever you say ‘Marc’
like that, it always means you want to get heavy,” he chuckled slurring his
words, “It always did, even when we were kids.” His expression darkened. “Well,
I’m not a kid any more and I’m in no mood to get heavy. So you can just…stuff
it, big brother.”
“It’s about Nick.”
He slammed his glass down on the table.
“I don’t want to talk about Nick. I don’t even want to think about him….”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I bloody well do mean it!” he shouted,
glaring at me.
“Look, I know how you feel. When Harry
died….”
“You don’t know how I feel! You haven’t
a bloody clue how I feel, no one has! You and Harry were together for years.
Nick and I, we scarcely had any time together at all. It’s not fair, Laurie,
it’s not bloody fair!” Ignoring the glass, he took a swig from the bottle.
“It’s alright for you,” he spluttered. “You have Philip.”
“It’s over between Philip and me,” I
said sharply.
“The more fool, you, then!”
“You’ll meet someone else….” It wasn’t
what I meant to say but I was desperate to steer the conversation away from the
subject of Philip Adams.
“Says who?” Marc fumed, “Says my big
brother, yeah? A fat lot you know!”
His tone cut me to the quick, not just
sneering but downright vindictive. He blames me. He hates me. I
was stung into saying, “No, not me, Nick.” I forced myself to stay calm. Marc
lifted the bottle over his head, spilling its contents everywhere. I expected
it to come crashing down on my head. “Go on, hit me if it makes you feel
better.” I said quietly, almost hoping he would.
Marc hurled the bottle across the room
and it smashed against a wall, splattering the new paintwork. He flung himself
on the sofa. For a moment, he stared open-mouthed at me, and then hid his face
in his hands weeping. Gingerly, I sat
beside him. In a faltering voice I repeated, verbatim, Nick’s last words.
“That’s how it was, Marc, I swear. He loved you. He wanted you to be happy.
Maybe, in time….”
“F**k time! What did time ever do for
us, eh?”
“Whether two people are together for a
long time or a short time, it isn’t time that matters, it’s being together,” I
mumbled.
“That’s easy for you to say,” he
muttered but there was no animosity in his voice now, only pain.
During the long, heavy silence that
followed, my thoughts turned involuntarily to Philip Adams. He should have
listened to me. Then again…who was I kidding? If I had only waited instead of
charging in like a lunatic… Nick was right. No one was to blame, no one and
everyone. We go about our daily lives, each of us doing our best, and hopefully
getting it right half the time if we’re lucky. I got up, ran to the bathroom
and threw up in a pretty peach-coloured basin.
When I returned, Marc was standing by
the door. We contemplated the broken bottle, pools of rum in pieces of glass
strewn across the carpet and an ugly stain on the opposite wall. “I’ve made a
right mess of things,” he said with a lopsided grimace
“You and me both,” I said dryly.
He gave me a long, searching look, and
then, “Thanks for telling me about Nick. It can’t have been easy for you.”
“Thank mum. It was her idea I should
tell you. We both thought it might help.”
“It does.”
“I’m glad.”
He fidgeted with his hands, shifting his
weight from one foot to the other. “Friends...?” He looked so young and
vulnerable.
“Friends,” I agreed, feeling very
middle-aged. Yet, as we moved into an
increasingly fierce hug, I not only experienced a sense of being forgiven, but
also took the first tentative steps towards forgiving myself.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
The next day, I visited Danny’s grave. To my
surprise, a headstone was already in place. It bore the simple inscription,
‘Rest in Peace’ above Danny’s name and dates of birth and death. I discovered
for the first time that his surname was Conti. Could it be his father was Italian, I wondered? It hit me then how
little I knew about Danny and wished I had taken the trouble to ask. The words Rest
in Peace struck me as more than appropriate. The poor kid knew precious little peace while he was alive, after all.
We all deserve that much in death, surely? The force of my bitterness
shocked even me.
I replaced some withered flowers with
some of my own and wondered who else had thought to bring any. My question was
soon answered. I heard footsteps on the gravel path and looked up to see the
widow Finn coming towards me. She was carrying two bunches of yellow roses and
the bony face wore a warm smile. “Why, Laurence, how nice..!” I blushed with
pleasure. She rarely used my first name. We exchanged pleasantries and chatted
about nothing in particular for several minutes. “It’s good to see you looking
so well. I was so sorry to hear about your friend and….” Our heads turned
towards Danny’s grave. Seeing my distress, she patted my hand. “You mustn’t
blame yourself. The Good Lord decides when He’s ready for us to come into this
world and when He’s ready to take us back. I dare say he thought Danny had
suffered enough.”
I wondered how much she knew.
“I heard about it on the television, of
course,” she went on. “But who believes half of what they hear these days? No
one with a mind of their own, that’s for sure. We probably only ever get to
hear half the story if that.” I was impressed by her shrewdness. She never
ceased to amaze me, this neighbour of mine. Neighbours no more, though, I
reminded myself, and the prospect seemed suddenly daunting as well as sad. “So
the boy was…an unfortunate,” shying away from total realism. (Who doesn’t?) “All that matters is that
when he died there were people who cared about him. Who can ask for more?”
I envied May Finn this simple vision of
things, this quiet acceptance of all that is intolerable in the world.
“If it’s any comfort, I’ll see to his
grave for as long as the good Lord wills. My husband is buried here too, you
know….” I hadn’t known. Again, I hadn’t thought to ask. It explained the second
bunch of yellow roses. “Yellow roses for remembrance, you know….”
“Thank you,” was all I could think to
say before impulsively planting a kiss on the leathery cheek. “You won’t forget
you promised to come and visit?”
“Indeed, no. I shall look forward to it.
I’ll miss you. But I have a delightful new neighbour.” I thought I detected a
twinkle in the grey eyes. “His name is Andrew. He’s a widower. What’s more, we
appear to have a lot in common. Not only a love of gardening, but also choral
music. Who knows? I may even persuade him to accompany me to Manchester…”
We both
laughed.
“Goodbye, May.”
“Goodbye, Laurence, and good luck. Be sure and take
good care of yourself.”
“You too,” I mumbled and strolled
briskly back down the gravel path before she could see I was close to tears. It
was the end of a chapter. How on earth would I fill the rest of the damn book?
As I came to the main road, I spotted a bus turning the corner just ahead and
ran for it. I could only suppose that time would tell. However, this philosophical
attitude did not last long. I missed the bus. “Shit!” I yelled at its rear end.
Marc drove me back to our mother’s house
a while later, resisting all attempts by both of us to persuade him to stay
overnight. He stayed for tea, muttered something about having things to do, and
left. I thought I understood. Mum, bless her, was possibly trying to make up
for lost time. At any rate, she fussed over us to such an extent it was driving
us mad.
I treated myself to an early night and
slept better than I had in a long time. After breakfast, I washed and shaved,
then took a long walk by the canal. I had to keep checking my watch as I’d
finally resolved to catch a mid-afternoon train to Manchester. On my return,
the sight of Philip’s car parked outside the house stopped me in my tracks. I
had to face him sooner or later, I reasoned. It might as well be sooner. I took
a deep breath, crossed the road and let myself in with a front door key my
mother had insisted I keep.
They were in the kitchen (where else?) drinking tea. My mother
beamed as I entered. Philip looked sheepish. “Philip has come to give you a
lift to Manchester, dear. Isn’t that kind?”
“I planned to go by train,” I said
bluntly.
“Don’t be so childish, Laurence,” my
mother chided me before tactfully mumbling an excuse to leave the room.
Philip and I regarded each other warily.
“A cup of tea?” he suggested.
“I don’t need you to offer me a cup of
tea in my own home, thanks very much,” I said rudely. At the same time, I poured myself one and sat
down.
“How are you, Laurence?”
“Fine.”
“You’re certainly looking much better
than the last time I saw you.”
I had to smile. “They told me I went for
you….”
“Like a mad bull!” He grinned.
I scowled. “Well, I was, wasn’t I? Mad,
I mean.” What does he expect, an apology?
I fumed inwardly. Well, you’re in for a
disappointment, copper.
“You’d had a rough time, we all had.”
“Some more than others,” I observed
acidly.
A long, awkward silence followed. I sipped
at my tea, observing his discomfort over the rim of my cup and hating myself
for it.
“I’m sorry about Nick. He was a nice
bloke.”
“But the likes of Danny are expendable,
is that it?”
“You know me better than that.” It was
his turn to snap. He shrugged and adopted a gentler tone. “The past is past. We
can’t change it. What we have to do now is look to the future, hopefully learn
from our mistakes.”
“Bravo!” I clapped my hands. “Cliché,
cliché!” I applauded again. “Got any more like that, have you? It’s just what
the doctor ordered, I don’t think.”
Philip jumped to his feet, “Can’t you at
least try to meet me halfway?” His furious expression evaporated even as I
watched. In its place, an anguished, pleading look although his tone fell short
of a total cave-in. “We could still have a future together, you and me, if
you’d only stop whining for a half a second and…grow up!”
I rose, too. “Alright, alright, you
don’t have to rub it in!” I yelled, “I behaved like a stupid kid. I tried to
play the hero and f**ked up good and proper. It’s my fault Nick and Danny are
dead. Do you think I don’t know that? It will haunt me for the rest of my life.
If I could change things, put the clock back, I would. But I can’t. I’m sorry,
really sorry, but I can’t.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself. But you’re
right about one thing. You are stupid, really, really stupid, if you think I’m
going to write us off without trying to drum some sense into that thick skull
of yours.”
“Us? There is no ‘us’,” I hissed. “I
hate you.”
“Well, that’s a crying shame because I
love you very much,” he said quietly and completely took the wind out of my
sails. “At least let me drive you to Manchester now I’m here, and since I’m
going there anyway….” he added lamely.
I sidestepped the question. “How did you
know where to find me?”
“Marc called. He thought you’d be
pleased to see me.”
“Then he thought wrong,” I retorted.
Philip’s hurt expression cut me to the quick. My mind was in turmoil. Why was I
being so horrible to him? I love him.
This admission put me in more of a quandary than ever. I couldn’t think
straight. It hadn’t occurred to me that he and I might still have a future
together. I had convinced myself it was a pipe dream, dead in the water. Now
here he was, larger than life, telling me I was wrong and how he loved me. Yet,
was I, lying through my teeth, telling him I hated him. I was close to tears.
The brick wall I had carefully constructed to keep him out crumbled before my
eyes. I stood amongst the rubble, hugging my self-blame, longing to feel his
arms around me. “A lift would be nice,” I managed to say, but not above a
hoarse whisper.
I fled upstairs. After a while, there
was a knock on my bedroom door and Philip entered without waiting to be asked.
I was at the window, gazing down at my childhood, watching my brothers and
sister gather round, anxious to help me build a go-kart with some wooden planks
from the shed and the wheels of an old pram. He came and stood beside me. “A
penny for them?”
“You can’t put a price on the past,” I
said stiffly and knew I sounded pompous.
He chuckled softly in my ear. “How about
the future?”
I sighed. “Do you ever regret not having
kids?”
“We could always adopt.”
“I’m serious, Philip.”
“So am I, but if what you’re really
asking is do I regret being gay, the answer is ‘no’. It’s what I am. You might
as well ask me if I regret being born. If I hadn’t been born I would never have
met you, would I? How can I regret that?” He was gently teasing me, I knew, but
my hackles remained firmly in place. “Oh, I get lonely, but who doesn’t? Gays
don’t have a monopoly on loneliness. Besides, who’s to say I’d have had kids if
I were straight? If you love someone, I guess having kids is a bonus. Not
having them only really matters when that love is not enough. He paused before
saying, “So where does that leave us?”
The scene in my mind’s eye changed. I
saw Danny, naked and spread-eagled on a bench. Had he ever built a go-kart, I
wondered, or Poppy? I don’t want to be
lonely again, a voice whispered and I thought it was my own until I
realized I couldn’t, wouldn’t speak.
Loneliness, I reflected grimly, has to
be the saddest, most frightening word in any language. Suddenly, I was in a
dark cave, listening to sounds of the world going about its daily business just
above my head, a world that neither knew nor cared I was there. Tentatively, I
began to pick my way through the ruins of my defences.
“I let you down, I’m sorry,” Philip was
saying, “I should have listened to you. Can you forgive me?” His voice trailed away
unhappily.
I slammed the lid on my own guilt
feelings and turned to face him. “I love you so much,” was all I could say. His
expression told me it was more than enough.
“Even though I’m a copper?” His grin was
like the sun coming out after a bad storm.
“Even though you’re a copper.” I grinned
back, and we fell into a joyful hug.
“There’s something I have to explain,”
he murmured in my ear and pushed me gently away.
“Later,” I insisted and kissed him on
the mouth. He responded with a fierce passion that carried us both away on a
rapidly incoming tide of need and desire. Frantically, we undressed. Later as
we lay, spent, on my bed, I saw blue sky through a hole that had appeared in
the roof of my cave and had to close my eyes to the blinding sunlight.
When we returned downstairs, it must
have been obvious that we had patched things up. My mother’s concerned
expression broke into a tearful smile as soon as we walked into the room. Even
more significantly, out came the sherry instead of the teapot. “You’ll stay the
night, won’t you?” she said to Philip. “I know Laurence would love to show you
around, wouldn’t you dear? Manchester will still be there tomorrow,” she added.
We both looked at Philip, whose silly expression gave everything and nothing away.
“Good, that’s settled. Why don’t the pair of you go and see Mary?”
In the event, we did just that. Philip
got on well with Mary and the kids, and it was fun taking him around some of my
old haunts. I could not help but compare this occasion with that last time,
when I had made much the same rounds on my own. It made a world of difference,
being with someone, sharing it all. Everyone we met seemed more at ease and
comfortable with me, us. Even Dave, whose wife had left him, seemed only too
happy to join us in a game of darts. As a fair comment on human nature, it was
perhaps debatable, but I enjoyed myself all the same. It was very late when we
got back but mum was still up and smiled, albeit with a look of weary dé jà vu,
at our schoolboy high spirits.
“Which room have you given Philip, Mum?”
She gave a light shrug and avoided my
eye, “Your room of course. I naturally assumed you’d want to share.”
I was frankly shocked. “You don’t mind?”
She lifted her face to mine, “As your
father would say, Laurence, there’s no point in taking a down escalator when
you want go up.” She turned to Philip. “I’ve put clean sheets on the bed. I
hope you’ll be comfortable.”
“Thank you, Mrs Fisher, I’m sure I
shall,” he said solemnly and I giggled. My mother glared at me and left the
room. Instantly, I felt ashamed of myself for having trivialised what, for her,
could not have been an easy decision. “Mum!” On impulse, I ran after her. She
paused at the foot of the stairs long enough for me deliver a kiss on the cheek
and a big hug. “Thanks!”
I watched her climb the stairs, slowly,
with a dignity which came as something of surprise as it was not a quality I
normally associated with my naïve, fussing mother. People really do change, as
Philip had once been at pains to point out. So
has my mother changed, or have I?
It felt strange, lying in the bed of my
childhood with Philip beside me. At first, I had reservations. It seemed almost
like a sacrilege. In this room I had been young, innocent. I grinned. In this
room, too, I had secretly masturbated. Now I was middle-aged. I did and did not
belong here any more. So the boy was now a man, so what? Behind all the front
and show of maturity, he was still much the same person, still wanting to be
told that all’s right with his own little world, still glad of a cuddle, still
anxious to be loved.
I snuggled up to Philip and he tightened
his arms around me. It was all I’d ever wanted, someone to take care of me,
make me feel safe.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” he
murmured.
“Thank my mother!”
“I did, remember?” he kissed me lightly on the cheek. “I like
your mum.”
“She certainly likes you. I never
dreamed she’d let us be together like this. I expected separate rooms and a
lecture on how to behave under her roof.”
We both laughed.
“Seriously, Laurie, it means a lot to
me, being here with you like this.”
“Because we have my mother’s blessing?”
“No, because it’s something you never
did with Harry.” I winced and would have pulled away but he pulled me close.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not jealous of Harry. It’s just that….” He broke off
and slackened his grip. I lay without moving, my head on his chest, his heart
banging away in my ear like a set of drums.
Eventually, I heaved myself up on one
elbow. “Harry was Harry and you’re…not Harry. You’re…you. I loved Harry and I
love you. It’s…different, of course it is. You’re two different people. I’m
different too, I think…certainly, when I’m with you. Harry made me feel good.
You…” I chuckled, “You make me feel alive.” I felt the frantic rhythm under my
palm relax. “You don’t have to worry about the competition; there isn’t any.”
“You must think I’m a prat.”
“I won’t answer that,” I giggled again
and kissed him on the lips. “Besides, it takes one to know one. If you must know,
I think you’re wonderful.”
“That’s the British copper for
you…bloody marvellous!”
We laughed, kissed and made love with
infinite tenderness. The young Laurence Fisher had at last come of age or so I
liked to think. If we had intruded upon some long-ago innocence, we certainly
hadn’t betrayed it. No blasphemy had been committed. And if this shared act of
searching for and discovering peace had touched upon aspects of self-discovery,
especially in relation to one another...well, so much the better.
Soon after breakfast, we headed for
Manchester. Philip was quiet and, I thought, a shade edgy. I was miffed. Hadn’t
I let myself believe Dame Fortune’s wheel was spinning in my favour again, and
not before time? I tried to make conversation. “Is the house looking okay?”
“You’ll be pleasantly surprised. You
won’t recognize the garden, it’s not a wilderness any more.”
“Who do I have to thank for that, Marc?”
The car skidded slightly. “Shit!” Philip
pursed his lips, quickly regained control, and I let my thoughts wander off at
a tangent. I knew Marc hadn’t been to the house recently, he had said so and
been very apologetic. I’ve had heaps to do here, Laurie. You know how it is.
It crossed my mind that Philip may have organized some local help. I would
have asked him, but his expression was such I didn’t feel encouraged to say
another word.
The house looked smaller than I
remembered, the street more ordinary and shabby. Leaves were falling from its
parade of trees and making a mess everywhere. My heart sank. I hadn’t realized
how much it meant to me, this whole new chapter in my life. Oh, I’d had sense
of new beginnings, a fresh start, but it was so much more than that. Only now,
taking in the reality of it all, did I begin to appreciate the stuff of which
dreams are made. This commonplace scene, this cold light of day...this was not
what I’d had in mind at all. “It looks different,” I muttered sullenly.
“You’ll get used to it,” said Philip
with a cheerfulness I found extremely irritating.
I glared at him. “Don’t presume to tell
me what I’ll get used to, okay?”
“Sorry I spoke.”
My frayed nerves, snapped. “Your
trouble, Philip, is that you can be so bloody patronising when you like!” I
flounced out of the car and pushed open a gate recently painted a garish
yellow. At a front door the same colour I inserted my key in the lock. It was a
full minute, however, before my fingers felt motivated to start turning.
Inside, the house was clean and tidy. It
also had a lived-in feel to it that I found thoroughly disconcerting. By the French
windows at one end of the L-shaped sitting room, I couldn’t help admiring the
garden. Someone had put a lot of work into it. There was a neat lawn edged with
herbaceous borders one side, a vegetable patch showing signs of life on the
other.
“Hallo, guv.”
I thought heard Danny’s voice behind me
and could even make out his reflection in the glass. Nor was I unduly bothered.
I was learning to live with ghosts. It
must be the male menopause, I pondered wryly. At any rate, it gave me a
warm, comforting feeling to believe that Danny had managed to find his way back
here in the end.
“Guv?”
Absently, I turned. Danny was leaning in
the doorway as real as if he were…alive! “Danny, is that really you?”
“Yeah, it’s really me, guv. How do you
like the new hairdo? A real blond bombshell, eh?”
It was the sound of laughter that all
but convinced me I wasn’t dealing with any ghost. What could a ghost conceivably find to laugh about, I asked myself?
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded. Although I had begun to accept the impossible,
my hackles rose of their own accord.
Danny’s face fell. “You mean you didn’t
know?”
“No, I bloody didn’t.” I was furious.
“Have you any idea what misery I’ve been through on your account, you
ungrateful little bastard?”
“Don’t take it out on the boy.” Philip
appeared at Danny’s side. “No one else knows except us three, no one who
matters anyway, just a few anonymous bodies in the Home Office. One or two
others later, yes. Marc, for a start. But it has to be a well-kept secret or
there’s no point. I tried to tell you, but…” He shrugged, “we’d only just got
together again. I didn’t want to complicate things.”
Danny looked crestfallen. “Cone on, guv,
aren’t you glad I ain’t dead? I was made up when Phil rang to say you was on
your way at last.” He hesitated then, “I’ve told the neighbours you’re my dad.
But don’t worry, I won’t have to call you that. I said how we’re strictly into
equality stuff, the both of us, so you like me to call you Laurence.”
“And just where am I supposed to have
been all the while you’ve been busy setting up home for yourself here?”
“Not myself, us!” Danny protested, “It
was your bright idea remember? Or didn’t you mean it?”
“Where, Danny?” I insisted.
“You have changed your mind,” he
threw at me accusingly, close to tears.
“I will in a minute if you don’t tell me
why I’ve been such a lousy, absentee parent.”
“Keep your hair on, guv, it’s all
sorted. You’ve been burying my gran, seeing to the estate and all that.” He
chuckled. “Some scaffolding fell on her after she left the hairdresser’s and
she snuffed it before the ambulance could even get her to the hospital. Good,
eh?” I groaned. Danny looked dismayed and tried a new approach. “I’ve done a lot
to the garden. Do you like it? Phil helped, of course, but it’s me what’s done
all the hard graft.”
By now, my hackles had settled down.
Danny’s anxiety to please had put me firmly in my place. “Oh, Danny!”
His face lit up. He ran into my open
arms and we hugged each other in floods of tears. “It’s all down to Phil. He’s
fixed it so I won’t have to be looking over my shoulder all the time,” the boy
sobbed. “Maybe they’ll nail Lord Muck, maybe they won’t. But at least he won’t
be looking for me now I’m dead, will he?”
If there was a flaw in Danny’s logic, it
escaped me. “It’s really you, you’re alive!” I hugged him tighter.
“You bet! Good, h?” Danny looked up at
me, licked his lips nervously as the cheerful expression changed to one of
genuine contrition. “I told Phil he should have let you in on this caper. I’m
really sorry, guv.”
“Never mind that now. You’re safe and well,
that’s all that matters.” By the time we broke apart, we were both flushed with
embarrassment. “But you’ll go back to school and catch up on your education.”
It was not a question.
“Oh, guv, must I?” Danny wailed.
“That’s the deal,” I retorted, “Take it
or leave it.”
“As if I had a choice,” he muttered
ungraciously, and then added, “I love you,” and gave me a squeeze. We both
burst into tears again. “Go and wipe your face,” I told him.
“Yes, dad, anything you say...er,
Laurence.” The familiar cheeky grin in place again nearly triggered off more
tears and I was relieved when he beat a hasty retreat upstairs. I glared at
Philip. “Whoever said grown men don’t cry must have been a very unhappy person.”
I sniffed and blew my nose.
“Does that mean you’re happy?” Philip
sounded sceptical as he came towards me. He also looked very sure of himself.
“Of course I’m happy,” I said, and meant
it. “Still gob-smacked and bloody angry but, yes, I’m happy, very happy.”
A blast of pop music exploded upstairs.
“He can turn that down for a start,” I exclaimed,
bracing myself to take appropriate action.
Philip caught my sleeve. “I can see
we’ll have to take that young man in hand,” he murmured.
“We?” I checked myself.
“I thought I’d move in, if you don’t
mind.”
“And how do we explain that to
the neighbours?”
“Don’t worry about them. In my
experience, once people find out I’m a copper they’re only too pleased to keep
their noses out of my business, in case I start sniffing around their precious
skeletons.” He laughed. “Let’s face it, we’ve all got our share.”
I could only nod, unconvinced. “What
about your colleagues in the police force, won’t they have something to say
about it?”
He shrugged, grinning. “Plenty, I
expect. They’ll just have to get used to the idea. After all, I’m the new face
of a gay-friendly police force. Besides, don’t forget I’m an inspector now so
they’ll have to watch their step. We’re not so easily sat on, we DIs. So, how
about it?”
I attempted, without much success, to
appear nonchalant. “I dare say I could get used to the idea.” I grinned back.
Danny turned the volume up.
Philip and I ran into the hall and
yelled in unison, “Danny, turn it down!”
After a long pause, it went marginally
quieter. We grimaced, then simultaneously burst out laughing. A long, searching
look passed between us. Liking what we found, we fell, still laughing, into a
warm, all-encompassing embrace.
Over Philip’s shoulder, I could have
sworn I saw a big brown bear lumbering down the stairs. It paused, rose on its
hind legs and raised a friendly paw in a gesture I chose to interpret as nature’s
blessing.
END