Somehow, it all came back down to Sean Meyer. Much as I hated to admit it, my mother was right. I just couldn’t afford to get involved with him again.
I might believe Sean now, that he’d been just as much a victim in the whole mess as I had, but there was too much pain and too much bitterness surrounding both of us to try and recapture a happier time. The very fact that I’d been so convinced he was capable of such a gross act of betrayal had destroyed whatever fragile bond of trust had been growing between us.
What we’d had was dead and buried. I’d done my grieving. It was time to finally lay the ghosts, and move on.
Downstairs, I gave Friday his food and left him shovelling his bowl round the kitchen floor. I made a coffee and stood for a while, cradling the mug and staring out into the back garden without seeing much of it at all.
The dream still disturbed me. I recognised the need for closure, and that I wasn’t going to get it until some lingering questions had been answered.
On impulse, I went back through to the living room, and picked up the telephone, dialling a number I’d known off by heart since I was a child.
A man’s voice answered, calm, cool. My father.
“Hello,” I said, warily. “I was hoping to speak to my mother. Is she there?”
There was the slightest pause. “I’m afraid she’s not here at the moment,” he said, but somewhere beyond him, I swear I heard a door closing. “Can I help you at all?”
I took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me that Sean Meyer had tried to contact me after – after I left the army?”
“Ah,” my father said, almost on a sigh. “So, you know about that.” He didn’t even have the grace to sound embarrassed.
“Yes, I know about that,” I snapped. “Tell me, were you ever planning to tell me? Or were you just hoping I’d never find out?”
“Find out what exactly, Charlotte?” For the first time he let the irritation creep into his detached tone. “Find out what excuses Meyer had managed to dream up for what he did?”
“They weren’t excuses,” I argued. “He didn’t know. They posted him.” I was sure of my ground now, but I didn’t like the defensive note in my voice, even so.
“If you’re happy to believe that then, of course, that’s your choice,” he said, indifferent. “Your mother and I discussed it at the time, and we decided that it was better that you didn’t know. It was too late to affect the outcome of the case, and it would only have served to distress you further.”
I felt temper rise in my throat like bile. “You decided,” I said bitterly. “What right did you have to make that sort of choice for me?” Didn’t you realise the effect it would have?
“We had every right, Charlotte,” he said, in the same tone he would have used to rebuke one of his junior doctors for some badly handled diagnosis. “You were under our protection, and in no fit state to make your own decisions. You would rather have known everything that was being said about you? That we’d reported every phone call, showed you every lie the papers printed? You wouldn’t have thanked us for it. Then or now.”
I tripped up a little over the word “lie”. It was the first time he’d let his neutrality slip and actually seemed to come down on my side. My God, he might be human after all.
I’ve no doubts at all that my father was an excellent surgeon, his obvious success notwithstanding. He had that arrogance, that total belief that he was doing the right thing, making the right decision. You listened to him and you knew that the hand holding the scalpel would not slip at the vital moment.
“We shielded you as much as we could,” he went on now, almost coldly. “If you will take some advice, Charlotte, you won’t go raking it over again now. It won’t do anyone any good to open up old wounds again. Least of all yourself.”
“Somebody betrayed us,” I said, stubborn. “Even if I was prepared to let it go, don’t think for a moment that Sean is.” And I put the phone down without giving either of us the chance to say goodbye.
***
Getting out of Lavender Gardens that morning proved difficult. A gang of kids had set light to a stolen Citroën BX, which was blocking one of the main roads out of the estate.
The fire brigade were already on the scene by the time I arrived, running out hoses to deal with the wreckage. On the far side of the burning barricade, a young crowd had gathered. The firemen looked nervous as they worked, as though they weren’t sure if the real danger came from the flames, or the mob.
I saw a flash of blond hair among the dark heads of the crowd, and recognised Jav. He clocked the Suzuki and went very still, but from that distance I couldn’t read the expression on his face.
I had a nasty feeling that, if I’d been closer, I would have seen triumph there.
***
I called in on Clare at the Defender again on my way to the gym. By the time I got to work, Attila was already in, and the place was buzzing, so I didn’t have much chance to mull over the information she’d given me until later that afternoon.
Things went completely dead after lunch, as they usually did. Attila and I were taking advantage of the total lack of clientele to shift some of the benches around when Madeleine walked through the door, immaculately dressed as always.
“Hi, Charlie,” she said guardedly, but treated my boss to a sunny smile that had him preening his muscles. I introduced her as a friend of Sean’s, and left it at that. If Sean wanted Attila to know the real score he could tell the man himself.
Attila came over all good manners and suggested coffee, which Madeleine accepted with enough enthusiasm to send him scuttling for the kettle in the office.
When he’d gone Madeleine looked about her with undisguised curiosity. “So, this is where you work,” she said. I couldn’t tell from her voice if she was impressed or horrified. Like I said, Attila didn’t go much for frills. I looked round, but what had, before, seemed businesslike and uncluttered, now looked spartan and shabby.
I shrugged, and finished moving a pile of loose weights across to the bench’s new position. When I straightened up, I found Madeleine was watching me closely. “I understand you teach self defence,” she said.
“I used to,” I said shortly. “I don’t any more.”
“Why not?”
For a few moments I considered the question. “I was injured last winter,” I said at last. It sounded so innocuous, like I’d fallen down a set of steps, or come off the bike. “Attila offered me this job while I was recuperating, and I never got back into it.”
She nodded, seeming to accept that watered-down explanation. “I’ve done a few courses myself,” she said now. “Tell me, what do you recommend for defences against someone with a knife?”
I looked up sharply, wondering if she thought she was being clever, but her face was without particular guile. My eyes slid past her to one of the mirrors on the wall behind her head, checking my reflection to see if the scar was on view above the collar of my polo shirt. It wasn’t.
I checked Madeleine’s face again. “What do I recommend?” I said, keeping my voice level with an effort. “That you run away. As fast as you possibly can. And you keep running.”
She frowned, and looked about to ask some more, but Attila returned at that moment with three cups of coffee bunched around a single fist, and the moment was lost. I was never so glad of the interruption.
“Excuse me a moment,” I muttered, and escaped to the ladies’. Once I was there I closed the door and leaned back against it, with my eyes shut.