Mortal Ghost (17 page)

Finn signalled to the waiter. Over Jesse’s protests he ordered a second steak and the cheese board, from which he helped himself to generous wedges of some very ripe-looking specimens. The red wine was nearly finished, but he shook his head reluctantly when asked about another bottle. It was a working day.

‘
Don’t tell Meg about the cheese,’ he said with a grin. ‘She’s a real tyrant sometimes when it come to my diet.’

‘
Is anything wrong?’ Jesse asked.

‘
With my health, you mean? Not a thing. These doctors are all mad about cholesterol.’

‘
But Meg’s a psychiatrist.’

‘
A doctor’s a doctor. I keep telling her that it’s a load of rubbish. My ancestors have eaten cheese and butter and cream and plenty of animal fat for generations, and not one of them died before ninety.’

‘
None?’

‘
Well, there was my great-aunt Gerd, who didn’t make it past seventy-three. But I think being eaten by a lion while on safari in Africa doesn’t quite count as diet-related.’

‘
You’re dubbing me,’ protested Jesse.

‘
Not at all. Like I’ve said, I come from a long line of Norse adventurers. Now eat up while I tell you what I’ve got planned for the rest of the afternoon.’

Jesse applied himself to his steak, which the waiter had just served with a straight face and a little flourish. His eyes twinkled, though.

After a few minutes of silence, Finn emptied the wine bottle into his glass, drank, and hid his belch somewhere between a cough and a snort, followed by a sheepish grin. ‘Too long in the wilderness.’ The chunk of baguette remaining on his plate slowly crumbled under his fingertips.

‘
You’re not going back, you know,’ Finn said at last.

‘
Back?’ asked Jesse. ‘Back where?’ He had a pretty good idea what Finn meant, however.

‘
Back to the street. It’s no solution.’

Jesse put down his fork and knife, took a long drink of his coke; with a forefinger began to connect the dots of condensation on his glass till he caught sight of Finn’s pursed lips and tapping fingers. There were few pictures concealed from Finn’s eye.

‘
If I found a full-time job, I could afford a room somewhere.’

‘
Just how old are you, Jesse? Last time I asked, you hedged.’

‘
Nearly seventeen.’

‘
You belong in school.’

‘
I’d have to register with the authorities. I’m never going to let social services get hold of me again. Never.’

‘
It might not be that bad, if someone like Meg were involved. You’re entitled to support and an education, you know.’

‘
The public library will do fine for an education. They can keep their money.’

‘
Easy to say when you’re sixteen. Not so easy when you’re thirty and still sweeping someone’s yard for a fiver.’

‘
Better that than their mind-fucks and lockups.’

‘
Come off it, you’re way too smart to spout that rubbish. The very worst would be shared accommodation, but there are other options. And not all social workers are incompetent. Or sadists. We’re not talking concentration camp here.’

Jesse snorted. ‘You’ve
got no bloody idea.’

An expression that Jesse had not seen before crossed Finn’s face. Jesse felt ashamed of himself. He had no right to talk to Finn like that. What did he really know about Finn’s life? He’d lost a son, hadn’t he? Jesse had no patent on suffering.

‘
Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve had my fill of fostering. There are some really screwed-up people in on the game.’

‘
No, don’t apologise. You’re right. I was being officious, condescending. I can’t possibly know what you’ve gone through. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson.’ A pause. ‘With Peter, Sarah’s brother.’

Jesse picked at his leftover chips, now cold and unappealing, before blurting out, ‘What happened to him?’

Finn raised his wineglass and tilted it against the light, studying it for so long that Jesse thought he wouldn’t answer. But the answer, when it came, came all at once, like a bottle shaken, then uncorked.

‘
Peter was one of those bright and charismatic kids who seemed destined to sail through life without a squall—good at school, even better at sport, popular, nice-looking, girls, a talented artist. I was away a lot, took it all for granted.’ A few drops of wine dripped onto the tablecloth, and Finn set the glass down. ‘Expected too much from him, too, I suppose.’

It seemed impossible for Finn to have been a bad father. What could have gone wrong?

Finn blinked a few times and continued, ‘I’m not sure exactly when it began to fall apart. He started staying out later and later, missing school, becoming surly and uncommunicative, sleeping for hours at a time during the day. Often not coming home at all. We kept hoping we could cope on our own. It got worse, then much worse. Meg and I—well, no marriage is that impregnable. In the end we knew we needed help. We tried to insist on counselling. There were huge bloodcurdling fights. He broke things. Stole things. One half-term when he’d just turned seventeen he left. We never saw him again.’ Finn took a long draught of his wine.

Jesse spoke softly. ‘How did he die?’

‘
I don’t know if you want to hear this. You’ve got more in common with us than you realise.’

‘
I want to hear.’

‘
Peter was found burnt to death in a squat, along with several bodies. We don’t know exactly what happened, but they were able to identify him through DNA sequencing, though not all of the others.’ Finn was quiet for a moment, his pain louder than words. ‘So tell me, is that what you want? From day to day not knowing where you’ll sleep, what you’ll eat, whether you’ll be beaten or raped or worse by morning?’

The minutes passed as they stared at each other. Jesse dropped his eyes first.

‘
No,’ Jesse muttered. ‘No, that’s not what I want.’

~~~

‘
What happened?’ Jesse asked, crouching down to look at Nubi’s leg.

Nubi was lying on a blanket in the kitchen, his rear left leg splinted and bandaged, his pelvis taped. The vet had administered a painkiller and sedative, so Nubi soon dropped his head back onto his paws. Jesse stroked his bony head, then behind his ears, and murmured ‘good boy’ over and over again.

‘
It was my fault,’ Sarah said. ‘I hadn’t bothered with the lead, and he tore across the street just as a car was coming. We were lucky that the driver saw him and braked so fast.’ She took an uneven breath, and Jesse could tell that she was still shaken by the accident. ‘I never realised an animal could scream like that, Jesse. I was so scared.’

There was no point in accusing her of carelessness. She felt guilty enough as it was. Who was he to cast stones anyway? He remembered how he’d tried to drive Nubi off that first morning.

‘
Look, it’s going to be OK, isn’t it?’ he said, looking up from Nubi’s side. ‘It’s only a broken leg.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘The vet said it’s a nasty break, and she’s not sure if it’ll heal properly. The bone’s in several pieces.’ Her voice roughened on the last words, and she paused for a short while before continuing. ‘She wants to see Nubi tomorrow, after I talk with my parents. They have to agree. Surgery’s needed to put in a metal plate and screws, and it’s going to be expensive.’

Jesse tightened his lips. More debts.

‘
Which bone is it?’ he asked.

‘
The thigh bone,’ she said. ‘The vet showed me the x-rays.’

‘
The distal femur.’

‘
Yeah, that’s what she called it.’

‘
Any other injuries?’

‘
No. In that way we’re lucky. No ruptures, no internal bleeding, no head trauma to speak of. Just a lot of bruising, some superficial cuts.’

Jesse ran his hand lightly over Nubi’s fur while he considered. He didn’t like the tranquillisers, which often had an unpredictable effect on him. But it couldn’t be helped. Since he’d have to wait until they were alone, with no chance of interference, some of the drugs might have worn off by then, or at least diminished in potency. And this time he’d make sure he had something sweet on hand.

Jesse rose. ‘When’s your dance class?’

‘
Maybe I’d best skip it.’

‘
Go. I’ll stay with Nubi.’

Sarah bit a fingernail. ‘Are you really OK with that?’

‘
Yeah. But will you do me a favour? Buy some chocolate on the way back?’ He grinned. ‘Lots of chocolate.’

‘
There’s plenty left from Finn’s trip.’ Some of the tension left her face. ‘He won‘t mind.’

‘
The ordinary stuff will do. Please.’

Sarah stopped biting her fingernails, a smile flirting with her lips. She was standing like a stork, one leg tucked up behind the other. Jesse didn’t understand how she could remain so utterly still without losing her balance. He thought it must have something to do with inner calm, though she was anything but tranquil at the moment. A dancer’s trick, then. He had a momentary urge to touch her, not roughly, just enough to see how well she could maintain the position. He must have made a small movement with his hand, because her eyes flitted towards it, then away again. She turned her head but not before he saw her smile widen, and a flash of pleasure—
triumph?
—ignite behind her eyes.

He remembered Mick.

‘
Where did you go with Mick?’ he slashed, his voice like a jagged bottle. And then drawing blood. ‘Too busy to look after Nubi?’

‘
What?’

‘
Mick. You do remember Mick, don’t you?’

‘
What are you talking about?’ Her raised leg thumped to the floor.

‘
You met Mick this afternoon, didn’t you?’

‘
What is this with you about Mick? I told you that I’m not going out with him any longer, didn’t I? Not that it’s any of your business.’

‘
Yeah, you told me all right.’

‘
And just what is that supposed to mean?’

‘
I don’t like being lied to.’

‘
I don’t think I heard you right. Try saying that again.’

Jesse felt a flimmer of doubt but it was too late to retract his words.

‘
You don’t need to lie to me.’

The contempt on her face hurt, impossible to pretend it didn’t. His suspicion that he might have made a mistake deepened. Tondi had her own agenda, plus a good measure of cunning.

‘
Sarah—’ he said, but she didn’t give him a chance to finish. Without a word, she turned on her heel and stomped from the room. He was left with Nubi and the feeling that he needed a very long tiring swim—or a couple of aspirins. Neither of which he’d be able to get if he wanted to help Nubi.

Jesse raised his head, but it took him a few moments to bring the room into focus, the place and time. He was kneeling at Nubi’s side. From the doorway Meg was watching them, her face pale and shadowed in the light spilling from the hallway. He remembered now. He’d turned off the kitchen lights to make it easier to concentrate. He laid his head on Nubi’s flank and breathed. He breathed.

‘
You’re a healer, aren’t you?’ Meg asked.

He was unable to speak.

Meg crossed the room and crouched at his side, waiting quietly until his face had lost its mottled, watery green tinge. Then she rose again, switched on the overhead lights, and pulled out a chair for him.

‘
Come, you need some tea.’ She gazed at him. ‘Some sugar.’

‘
Is there any chocolate?’

‘
I’ll fetch a box of the Swiss pralines.’

Jesse shook his head. ‘Leave them. It’d be a shame, I’d eat the lot without even tasting them.’

She smiled. ‘I’ve got a small stash of my own.’ She put the kettle on to boil and left the room.

Jesse looked over at Nubi, who was dozing on his blanket. A more complicated break than the kestrel’s, so he was likely to sleep for a while yet. Jesse sighed; he abhorred sedatives. Not even Matthew’s medication had affected him like this. Then he grinned to himself—maybe an allergy?

While he ate and drank, Meg sat with her own thoughts till he’d recovered enough for the trembling in his muscles to cease.

‘
Have you done any healing?’ he asked.

‘
My gift is different.’ She paused and broke off a piece of chocolate for herself, then pushed the chocolate bar back across the table. ‘There’s not much left. Eat it all,’ she said. ‘I was going to do spaghetti for supper, but if you can’t wait, I’ll make you something now.’

Jesse grimaced. The thought of food made him queasy.