“No, but that’s what him and all the other detectives on the case think. That’s what you think too, isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes.”
Harlan broke his gaze from Eve’s, looking at the sheer cliffs of concrete, glass and steel outside his window. “We could be wrong.”
“Even if you are, there’s still nothing you personally can do about it.”
“There might be. I might think of something.”
“Like what?” Eve’s voice was gentle, but her question contained a note of challenge.
“I…I don’t know. I just know that I owe them this.”
“No you don’t!” Eve was on her feet suddenly, moving towards Harlan. He flinched at her touch and held her at arm’s length, as if afraid she’d catch something nasty off him. “You owe yourself. You owe us.”
Harlan shook his head fiercely, still not looking at Eve. “There can’t be any us.”
“This is crazy.” Eve’s voice was hard, but her hands that clasped Harlan’s arms were tender. “I love you. Fuck knows why. Maybe it’s because only you really understand what I’ve been through. And you still love me. You don’t need to say it. I know you do.” She tried to pull him to her. His arms trembled, but didn’t bend. “How can that be wrong? How can love be wrong? If you can tell me, I’ll leave right now and never bother you again.”
Harlan couldn’t tell her. Suddenly his arms gave way and he collapsed into Eve’s embrace. Uncontrollable tremors ran through him. This was what he wanted more than anything, yet part of his mind, his soul, railed against it. He tried to draw away from Eve, but she held him tight as though trying to squeeze every last drop of resistance out of him. “Don’t,” she said.
“Look at me.” Harlan made a sweeping gesture at the room. “Look at this place. I’m no good for you.”
“You are good for me,” Eve soothed. “I love you. I want to be with you no matter what. And as for this place, well, you don’t have to stay here. You can move in with me.”
Harlan shook his head. “I need to be here.”
“Why?”
“In case.”
“In case of what?”
“She…Susan Reed, she knows I live here. So she knows where to find me if she needs me.”
Eve looked at Harlan with a baffled frown. “Why would she come to you for help? She hates you.”
Harlan’s mouth screwed into a grimace. “I know it’s absurd, I know, but I’ve got to be here for her. I’ve got to.”
Eve stroked his face, the angular jut of his cheekbone, the roughness of his stubble-flecked jaw. “Okay, stay here, and I’ll stay here with you.”
“But this place is a dump.”
“It’s not so bad.” Eve smiled. “Nothing a woman’s touch can’t fix.”
Harlan smiled faintly too, remembering how Eve had transformed the first place they’d lived in together — a dingy one bed-roomed flat above an off-licence — into a comfortable love nest.
“So it’s settled,” continued Eve.
“I…I’m not…” Harlan mumbled uncertainly.
Eve tilted up his chin and looked him in the eyes. “It’s settled. I’m going to fetch some clothes from my flat. I won’t be long.” She leaned in and kissed Harlan. At the touch of her lips, the last of his resistance seeped away.
“Okay.”
As Harlan saw Eve to the door, guilt gnawed at him with sharp teeth. He returned to the living-room and stared out the window, half watching for Eve, half studying his own reflection, wondering how it was possible to feel so good and so bad at the same time. Perhaps there was no way to reconcile his longing for Eve with his sense of obligation to Susan Reed. Perhaps he was just going to have to accept it, let it wash over him, see where it took him. He knew one thing — if his future with Eve was uncertain, without her it was non-existent.
An hour or so later, Eve returned with a bag of clothes and a box of cleaning products. She set to work on the flat straight away, scrubbing the bathroom and kitchen till they gleamed, hoovering and dusting the living-room and bedroom, bagging the dirty linen ready for the laundrette, changing the bedding. And when she was done with the flat, she set to work on Harlan, cutting his hair, running him a bath, climbing in it with him, soaping his back. Afterwards, they ordered takeout and ate it on the floor in front of the gas fire, talking and listening to the wind whip at the windows. They talked long into the night. Eve told Harlan about the new career she’d embarked on in the past year. She told him, at his insistence, about the relationship she’d had during his incarceration. He told her, equally reluctantly, what prison had been like for him. They talked with some sadness but no resentment about Tom — his seemingly boundless energy, his huge sense of fun, his cheeky laugh. When they were finally tired of talking, they undressed each other and made love and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Chapter 8
Over the next few days Harlan and Eve hardly spent a moment apart. They bathed together, ate together, slept together. She dragged him out to restaurants, to the cinema, even to an art gallery. It felt both unnerving and exhilarating to him, doing normal things as if he was a normal person. Sometimes in the middle of a meal or whatever, he’d find himself staring off into the distance with eyes that were adrift in a sea of guilt. At other times, he’d wake in the middle of the night, lathered in sweat, chest heaving, grinding his teeth, trying to push Eve away. But she wouldn’t let him. She’d hold him to her, stroking his hair, shushing him as if he was a child that needed calming, until his body relaxed back into the bed. Occasionally, when the guilt burned and bit so deep he felt like bashing his head against the wall, he’d shout, “This is wrong!”
To which Eve’s reply was always the same. “Love’s not wrong.”
Gradually, as days turned into weeks, normality started to feel less unnatural to Harlan. The attacks of guilt became more and more infrequent. He went a minute without thinking about what he’d done to Robert Reed and what was happening to the family that’d survived him, then five minutes, then fifteen, then half-an-hour. One day, as he and Eve sipped coffee in the cafe of a department store where they’d been shopping for cushions and curtains and other items to make the flat more homely, it suddenly struck him that he hadn’t felt even a twinge of guilt all day. He lowered his cup, his throat so tight he couldn’t swallow. “You’ve got that look on your face again,” said Eve, reaching for his hand.
Harlan flinched from her touch, jerking to his feet so hard he nearly knocked the table over. “I’ve got to get out of here.” His voice trembled with urgency. “I’ve got to get back to the flat right now.”
“Calm down, Harlan. Sit back down and let’s talk about this.”
Harlan shook his head, turning to leave. Gathering up the bags of shopping, Eve hurried after him, pausing to pay the bill, not waiting for her change. She caught up with him at the store’s entrance and gasped, “Wait! Slow down.”
Harlan ignored Eve. As if he was being pulled along by an invisible chain, he ran through the streets to his car. One image kept wrenching at him — Susan Reed hammering at the door of his flat, calling his name. Calling to him for help. When he got to the car, Eve was no longer behind him. He didn’t wait for her. He jumped into the car and accelerated tyres squealing out of the car-park. He drove back to his block of flats like a man possessed, and sprinted up all twelve flights of stairs. Breathing raggedly, he arrived at his floor fully expecting to see Susan stood at his door. She wasn’t there, of course.
Harlan’s shoulders sagged as though from unbearable weariness. Feet dragging, he entered the flat and crumpled onto the sofa. He sat with head hanging and eyes closed. Half-an-hour later, when Eve came into the flat, he looked at her and said, “I’m sorry.”
A faint, tender smile passed across Eve’s features. “There’s no need.” She sat down next to him and gently took hold of his wrist. “We’ll get through this. I promise you. We can get through anything as long as we’re together. Say it to me.”