Cry for Help (17 page)

I pushed the front door open and turned to Sarah.

'Do you want to go on up, get us a drink?'

'Sure.' She frowned, unsure what was going on. 'You okay?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'It's fine. Just old friends.'

Choc stopped directly in front of us and stared at her. Waiting.

'Okay,' she said slowly. 'I'll be upstairs.'

I closed the front door behind her, then turned, angry.

'What do you want?'

Choc looked at me, his expression full of disdain. His body language, refined over years of practice, was designed to unnerve - he was standing too close and looked wired. Full of little movements, as though he might lash out at any second. I understood what he was doing, and I tried not to be intimidated. It didn't quite work.

The taxi was idling at the kerb, but that wouldn't influence Choc in the slightest. If he wanted to kick off, he would. My keys were still in my hand. Very carefully, holding them where he couldn't see them, I moved one between my middle knuckles and found a grip that worked.

'What do you want, Choc?'

And then his whole body relaxed. He sniffed and took a step back. As though his intimidation routine was his mind doing weights, and now it was shaking its muscles out.

'Just need to have a little chat, you know?'

'It's not a good time.'

'It's good for me. Which is good enough.'

He smiled, pleased with himself.

'What?' I said. 'You have to come and fuck up my life like this?'

'Now that's what I wanted to see.' He stepped back. 'Some of the balls I thought you had. I'd never have taken you along that day if I didn't think you had some balls hidden somewhere.'

'I shouldn't have gone.'

'Yeah, but you did. And you know what? It shouldn't be anything you feel bad about.'

'I don't.'

He inclined his head one side, then the other. Ah, I'm not convinced about that. 'I'm worried you heard something, you see? Maybe got the wrong idea.'

'No.'

'Because nothing happened to Eddie. He just got a little beat and sent on his way.'

I remembered the gunshots I'd heard, and quickly pushed them out of my head.

'Yeah,' I said. 'That's exactly what I figured.'

'So you shouldn't feel bad. I'm a decent guy until you break the only rule I have. Don't fuck with me or my friends. Nobody does that to Tori and gets away with it.'

'I feel the same.' I reached out to the door. 'I said I shouldn't have gone. I didn't say I had a problem with what happened.'

'Well, I'm worried that you do. Stop that.' He frowned, pulling the door closed and holding it shut. 'I'm bothered it's still on your mind.'

I shook my head, confused.

'What the fuck is this about?'

'One of my boys was down the station a couple of days back. He said he saw you.'

So that was it. There had been a few people in the waiting area when I arrived, a few when I left. I hadn't noticed any of Choc's crew there, but that didn't mean anything. They'd probably know me better than I knew them. And I'd had other things on my mind.

Something else to thank Detective Currie for, then.

'Yeah. He told me you were there a long time. It looked like you had a good chat with someone.'

'It wasn't about that,' I said.

'Oh yeah? About what, then?'

'About none of your business.'

That was probably a step too far. His expression fell away. His voice, when it came, was low and full of menace.

'It had better not be my business.'

We stared at each other. I could hear a buzzing sound, like when you stand close to a pylon, and I knew it was in my head.

'We clear?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'We're clear.'

'We're done.'

Choc let go of the door, walked back over to the car and got in. Cardo clambered into the driver's seat. As the engine started, Choc wound the window down and leaned out. He still had his killing face on.

'I let you get away with a bit because of Tori. But if you start to concern me . . . you're gone. You don't fuck with me or my friends. Don't make me worry. Understand?'

'I understand.'

He nodded, then leaned back inside the car and Cardo began to pull out.

Without even thinking what I was doing, I took a step closer.

'Have you heard from her recently?' I said. 'Tori?'

For a second, Choc looked thrown by that. He frowned at me. I had no idea where the comment had come from. Perhaps it was because Sarah was upstairs and Choc was here, trailing those bad memories behind him, and so now it was easier for my concerns to float to the surface.

But whatever he thought, Cardo obviously hadn't heard - he pulled out and started driving off. A moment later, I was on my own again. Staring after them. Then another car drove past, tyres slashing the wet road, and the spell was broken.

And I thought:

Because I think she might be in trouble.

Part Three

Chapter Sixteen

Friday 2nd September

It was bright and sunny on the day my brother died. That's important, not only because of the lesson I took from it - that people can be taken from you in light as easily as darkness - but also because of something that happened, and something that didn't.

I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, as always in the summer, and my hair was longer back then. Owen and I looked very much alike, except that the two years in age between us were becoming more noticeable as he approached his teens. There'd be pictures of us together, and he'd have the look of a young man, whereas I'd be this little kid standing beside him, my whole body squinting at the camera. I was still awkward in ways he'd started growing out of, and desperate to catch up. I didn't know that he was about to be frozen in time: that I would soon overtake him, leaving him behind for ever.

It was the school holidays, and Mum and Dad were busy with their own work. Me, I felt slightly restless; I was in need of some activity and I went searching for it. I walked into Owen's room that day to find him squatting beside his bed, getting his things together. He looked up as I opened the door.

'Jesus.' He turned round, angry. 'Don't you knock?'

'Sorry.'

'As if you are.'

'I'm just bored.' I peered down. 'What're you doing?'

'Have you got to know everything? I'm going to play in the woods.'

'Can I come too?'

'No, you can't.'

'Please.' I shuffled in the doorway, trying to think of a way to convince him. Then I remembered what my friend Jonny and I had found a couple of weeks earlier: 'I know a good tree we could climb. I worked out how to get close to the top. It would take ages to figure it out on your own.'

'What makes you think I'd want to?'

But he looked at me standing there, and it must have been clear he wasn't going to shake me off. He sighed. Nothing clings like a little brother.

'All right.'

So we made our way outside and down towards the woods.

My childhood memories all exist in saturated colours; everything is exaggerated. That day, the world was full of bright greens and deep blues, and it was so sunny that the garden seemed to be shimmering gently. When I breathed in, the grass smelled rich and warm and sweet, and I had to waft away midges as we reached the bottom. The air was so hot it was like clearing steam from a mirror. As I climbed over the fence behind him, I was already sweating.

We walked a little way in. The grass gave way to the parched brown earth of the woods.

And suddenly, everything went dark.

It wasn't because of the trees. The sunlight was still cascading down between the branches, dappling the ground and sparkling around the outline of the leaves above; I remember looking up to check. This darkness was different. It was all on the inside. A feeling that something was wrong. And the further we walked, the worse it got, as though my soul was falling into shadow. There was a storm gathering, and I could sense the distant rumble of an enormous cloud unfolding slowly towards me . . .

I stopped. Owen took a second to realise, then turned around.

'What's wrong with you? You've gone all pale.'

'I want to go back.'

'Huh? Five minutes ago you wanted to come.'

I looked amongst the trees. I didn't know what I was frightened of.

'Something's wrong,' I said.

'What? Jesus. Why do you have to be such a baby?'

Taunting me like that would normally have made me angry: turned my hands and face into little fists. That day, I barely even registered it.

'Something bad's going to happen,' I said.

He stared at me for a second, and I could read the expression on his face. Why am I having to put up with this?

'Go home if you want,' he said. 'I never asked you to come, did I?'

He turned around and started walking off.

'Owen.'

'Shut up.'

I stood there, watching him move away, and everything inside me was screaming to make him stop, or to go with him and try to prevent whatever was going to happen.

'Owen!'

'Shut up, baby.'

Then I heard something, although not with my ears. It sounded a little like a crack of lightning - except it was a beautiful day and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

That was what happened. This is what didn't: the noise started me moving, but in the wrong direction. I turned around and ran home as fast as I could. And I never saw him again.

I had plenty of time to think, of course.

Now that I'm older, I understand what happened that day a lot better. I can rationalise and explain it; in fact, it's part of my job to do just that. I can tell you all about confirmation bias and coincidence. That I only remember it because what happened later made me concentrate on the event and turn it into something bigger and more important than the irrelevant daydream it really was. Tragedy does that; afterwards, everything gathers meaning and weight. In reality, it had probably just been a slight uneasy feeling - one that my subconscious had elaborated and gilded over the years. Maybe it was even the onset of a headache that I've forgotten about since.

The truth is, I'll never know.

One thing I am certain of is that it wasn't a psychic flash. There was nothing I could or should have done because of it. It had no connection to Owen's death, and so there was no need for me to feel guilty, and no need to blame myself for something I had no reason to do.

I know that, but the lesson remains with me.

That's how it happens. The things that are important will slip away if you let them.

'Dave - wake up.'

Someone was shaking me. I opened my eyes and saw that morning light, the colour of butter, was extending in a solid wedge from the skylight. Sarah was crouched down within it, fully clothed, her hand on my shoulder and a look of concern on her face.

'What?' I said.

'You were having a nightmare.'

'Was I?' My mouth was too dry. I made an effort at sitting up, propping myself on my elbow, and picked up the glass of water from the bedside table. I took a swallow. 'I can't remember.'

That wasn't entirely true. The dream had fallen to the floor and smashed into dim pieces, but even as they skittered away from me I could make out the details on a few shards. The warmth of the day. Owen's face. Me turning, running away from him.

Sarah sat back on her heels. 'It looked like it.'

'Thanks for waking me. What time is it?'

'Half eight. So I was going to anyway. I've got to head out now, and I wanted to say goodbye this time.' She stood up and ruffled my hair. 'You look cute when you're sleepy.'

I did my best to smile. 'You look cute when I'm sleepy too.'

'Works for me. Shame I've got to go. I'll see you at seven thirty tonight, then? The Olive Tree?'

It took me a second to place it, and then I remembered.

When I'd finished talking to Choc last night, the first thing I'd done before coming back inside was send a quick text message to Tori's mobile, asking if she was okay. No big deal, I thought; no harm in it. Then, I'd come back upstairs to find Sarah waiting for me in the kitchen with two glasses of wine at the ready; she handed one to me without speaking, and clearly expected an explanation in return. And obviously, the way Choc had dismissed her, she deserved one. I was even more annoyed with him for turning up - and then with myself for ever getting in the position where he would have a reason to.

So I apologised. Profusely. It was difficult to explain who Choc and Cardo were without detail I didn't want to give, so I just told her the basics. They weren't old friends - more like vague acquaintances, but ones you didn't want to get on the wrong side of. They didn't want to talk to me. They were looking for Emma, so I told them she'd moved out.

I wasn't proud of lying. But it was a small lie, told for what I hoped were good reasons. I was doing my best to leave behind the mistake I'd made and move on with my life, and I resented Choc for coming here and dredging it up for me to deal with. I told myself I wouldn't lie to Sarah about anything I did in the present, and I meant it.

Suggesting The Olive Tree for tonight hadn't been part of any effort to placate her. She'd accepted things by then and we were sitting in the front room, drinking our second glass of wine and chatting as normal again. The restaurant had been her idea.

'Yeah, sounds good,' I said now.

'I'll look forward to it.' She leaned over and kissed me on the lips, then walked over to the bedroom door. 'Catch you later, then.'

I smiled. 'You will. Take care.'

After she left, I allowed myself to lie back down for a minute, waiting to hear the front door go. When it did, I blew out slowly, then picked up my phone from the bedside table. I had a message.

I opened it and read:

Hey there. Sorry for silence. Am fine, just busy. Hope u r too. Maybe catch up sometime soon. Tori

I felt almost absurdly relieved. After all that, she was fine.

You fucking idiot. Of course she is.

I was about to put the phone back down, but then something struck me. When had she sent it, for one thing? It must have come through fairly late on. I clicked back until I found it.