She stopped the car alongside the park; the street smothered in fog looked empty. She snapped off her seat belt. ‘What the hell were you playing at?’
‘The police have done nothing.’
‘Oh, and you were going to, were you? What? Thump the guy? Put a brick through his window?’ She was quivering, her eyes bright and intense.
‘He killed my son,’ he said tightly. ‘And he’s not even been picked up.’
‘And he put my lad in a coma.’ She rounded on him. ‘What happens when he is arrested and it comes out you’ve been stalking him?’
‘I wasn’t stalking.’
‘Intimidating a suspect, interfering with an inquiry. You could mess it all up.’
‘But-’
‘I want them sent down, I want them punished. I want justice, not some middle-class prat like you ruining everything. Playing at terminator. What makes you think you know better than the police?’ She was trembling with fury, spittle at the side of her mouth, which she swiped away. She hit at the steering wheel. ‘What if he’d seen you, legged it?’
‘He didn’t see me,’ Andrew said, his mouth dry and palms clammy. ‘And I wouldn’t have done anything.’
‘Just being there was doing something.’
‘Why is it taking so long?’ he burst out.
‘I don’t know!’ she yelled back. She closed her eyes. Silence stretched between them. He looked out at the huge poplars, bare branches shrouded in fog. He heard the slam of a car door, the cough of an engine.
She spoke. ‘Swear to me that you won’t go near that house again, you won’t try anything else.’
He took a breath. ‘I promise.’
‘I never should have told you, I thought you could be trusted. You acted like we were on the same side.’
‘We are.’ He was desperate to reassure her, redeem himself. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You wanted to hurt him?’
‘Of course, but only in my head.’
‘We’re better than them,’ she said quietly. ‘Jason was better than them, my Luke…’ In the quiet he heard her swallow, heard the ticking of the car as the metal cooled.
Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose, screwed his eyes shut tight.
‘I’ll take you home,’ she said.
‘I can walk from here.’ He opened the door. ‘Thanks.’
She looked at him but didn’t speak. She looked so tired; worn out but not defeated.
He watched her drive off until the red rear lights had gone. Then he turned for home.
The phone went at seven, waking him. His thoughts flew to Jason, something wrong… then he slammed into the truth, a brick wall of pain – Jason’s gone. Amended his fears: his father, perhaps? He hurried on to the landing, snatched up the handset.
It was Martine. She didn’t waste time on small talk. ‘Andrew, we arrested three people this morning.’
His knees went weak. ‘Who?’
‘I can’t give you names at the moment.’
He heard Val. ‘What is it?’
Martine went on, ‘They match the descriptions. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know more. Would you like me to come round?’
Val was there, eyes puffy from sleep, her hair tangled.
‘No thanks. We’ll be fine.’ He put the phone back. ‘They’ve arrested them,’ he said.
‘Oh God.’ She swayed, put a hand to the wall to steady herself.
‘Three of them – that’s all she could say.’
‘Oh God,’ she repeated, covering her mouth. ‘So have they been charged?’
‘I don’t think so. She’ll ring later.’
Val nodded slowly. She seemed to reach some sort of decision. ‘Good. It’s good.’
‘Of course, yes.’ But it was unnerving, too. ‘Shall we stay home? I don’t know how long… don’t know if I could concentrate.’
‘And the press might be back.’
‘Yes. We’ll stay here.’ He shuddered, goose flesh on his arms. Outside it was lashing rain; he could hear it slapping the windows, hear the wind buffeting the house. He moved to hold her. His arms went round her and he felt her tense, withholding the full embrace he longed for. He stepped away. ‘You okay?’ Though that wasn’t the question he wanted to ask.
‘Fine,’ she said. The lie between them like a line in the sand. A border between alien territories. ‘I’ll get a shower.’
Above him, around the roof, the wind howled.
Louise
Louise spent the day on pins, checking her phone every ten minutes. Losing track at work so she almost gave Miriam two lots of her lunchtime tablets. Smoking too much even when her mouth tasted foul and she was behind on her schedule.
It poured down all day, sullen clouds dumping bucketfuls of rain over and over, the wind hurling it sideways, so she had to try and smoke in doorways, even in a bus shelter at one point, to avoid getting soaked through. She wouldn’t break her rule and smoke in the car, but boy was she tempted.
She’d not slept the night before, too wound up about Andrew’s vigilante stunt and what it might have led to, and about the papers. Not only what they’d written about Luke, but also the way they’d conned Sian, who wasn’t the brightest button in the box. They’d preyed on her goodwill, her friendship with Luke’s family, to get hold of the information, then warped it as much as they could. Louise had got out of bed in the end, wrapped herself in layers and a blanket against the cold in the house and done some sewing until her fingers went numb.
When the phone went during breakfast she had expected the agency with a change to her visits, but it was the police. The news made her physically sick, the shock of it.
Now she was waiting for more. She had called at the hospital straight from work. Aware with each visit that she was avoiding Dr Liu, not ready to face any more discussion about moving Luke or the impossible decisions she might be forced to make after that. She bathed Luke and brushed his teeth. The dressing on his head had been removed and his hair was growing back, dark fuzz, the texture of hair on a kiwi fruit. The scar looked livid, pink and lumpy where they had operated. Fee had given her some aromatherapy oil, a mix of basil, bergamot and peppermint. She massaged him with it, his torso, arms and legs, gently round his neck, his feet. The scents, peppery and fresh, filled the room.
‘Do you like the smell, then?’ she said. ‘Meant to help your memory this, stimulate the brain.’ When she’d finished, she drew the sheet over him and sat and held his hand. ‘They’ve arrested them, Luke. The three that hurt you. They picked them up this morning.’ She watched for the slightest twitch, saw only the steady pulse in the side of his neck, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
She reached and tapped the side of his face. ‘Luke, wake up now. It’s Mum. You can wake up now.’ She pressed a fingernail into the sole of his foot, her eyes fixed on his face. Altered her tone: quick, instructive, ‘Luke, wake up!’
There was nothing.
‘Ring them, Mum,’ Ruby said again.
‘I’ve told you, they’ll ring me.’
‘What if they’ve forgotten? Or think it’s too late?’
‘Then I’ll kick up a stink,’ she said.
‘What if they let them go?’
‘Then they’ll tell us.’
Ruby looked so worried.
‘Why would they let them go? Look, you’re getting me all stressed now. Haven’t you any homework to do?’
‘Done it.’
The phone rang. Louise snatched it up. Ruby stared, shoulders hunched, her eyes huge.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s me, Louise: DC Illingworth.’
‘Yes.’ Her mouth was dry; she strained for a clue in the way the woman spoke. Good news, bad? She nodded to Ruby, reached out a hand. Ruby took it.
‘The three people we arrested this morning have now been charged with the murder of Jason Barnes and the attempted murder of Luke.’
Louise gasped, felt dizzy, as though she’d topple over.