Something Hidden (22 page)

Andrew straightened his top, glancing towards the marquee. Keira had left the group of children and was out of view. He turned back to Iwan. ‘You know who I am, so what?’

‘You walked into the lion’s den yesterday, sunshine. Mr Braithwaite was kind enough to welcome you and even pass on certain pieces of information. As I told you, he’s now
concerned about your progress.’

‘Do you expect me to call you every time I do something?’ Andrew said. ‘Even if I was going to do that, you never gave me a phone number.’

‘If Mr Braithwaite wants something, he’ll come to you.’

‘So what does he want? What do you want?’

‘As I said, he’s concerned. He’d like to know what you’ve discovered about our mutual jeweller friend.’

‘I’ve not found out anything – I’ve been busy. I have a life away from work.’

Iwan tilted his head, screwing his mouth into something that was a cross between a smile and a grimace. ‘That’s what Mr Braithwaite feared. He feels he’s trusted you and
brought you into his inner circle. He expects results.’

Andrew took a step towards the hall but Iwan grabbed his wrist, pulling him back to the bins.

‘We’re not done.’

It hurt, but Andrew twisted his wrist free. ‘I’m not standing for this. I’m not having anything to do with Sampson today, I’m working here with children – and I
don’t appreciate being followed.’

‘Why involve yourself then?’

Andrew didn’t have an answer. For himself, it was all about finding the truth for Fiona Methodist and getting justice for the young couple that had had so much in common with him and
Keira. Yet, while he hadn’t expected Iwan to turn up with his demands, he had known there was going to be a consequence to visiting Braithwaite.

A flicker of movement caught his attention, and his eyes glanced around Iwan to where Keira was drifting across the car park.

‘Aye, aye,’ Iwan muttered under his breath.

Keira was smiling nervously between them. ‘Hello.’

Iwan stuck out a paw before Andrew could say anything. ‘Pleased to meet you, er . . .’

‘Keira. I’m organising the event, and you are . . . ?’

‘Iwan – one of Andrew’s friends from Manchester. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Keira.’ His tone was softer, definite hints of Irish in his accent. ‘I
was just saying what a fabulous event this is, without realising it was you who’d arranged it. It’s so terrific that people are giving back to their communities. It’s a tough
place out there for kids nowadays.’

Keira glanced at Andrew, slightly confused, before turning back to Iwan.

‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Iwan added. ‘Andrew was looking for a little company and I’m only passing through. I’ll be off shortly.’

‘Right, um . . .’ She turned to Andrew. ‘We start again in just over ten minutes.’

‘No worries, I’m just saying goodbye.’

She nodded before walking back to the marquee, hands in her pockets, not looking back.

‘Keira . . .’ Iwan said, rolling the syllables around his mouth. ‘I know that name.
Keira
. . .’

‘Just go,’ Andrew replied.

Iwan clicked his fingers, making a ridiculously loud crack. ‘The ex-wife. Well, well, well, isn’t that a turn-up?’

‘Get lost.’

‘Are you hoping to get everything back on track with her? Is that why you’re wasting your time with this bunch of losers?’ He blew out loudly. ‘Actually I don’t
blame you – I’d do anything for a go on
that
.’

He nodded towards the marquee but Andrew dropped a shoulder, angling forward and cracking the taller man in the chest with his knuckles. He drew back his left fist, rage seething through him,
but Iwan had barely moved, reaching out and
squeezing
his wrist.

He squinted down, grinning as broadly as Andrew had seen him. ‘
Really?
’

Andrew gripped the fingers of both hands into fists, desperate to fight back, wanting to use his anger. It took a moment but his head won. There was only going to be one outcome if he started
anything and it wasn’t going to be pretty for him. The wrath slipped, his fingers loosening, before Iwan released him.

‘Good boy.’

Iwan reached forward and patted him on the head. Andrew pulled away, batting the hand off as his tormentor laughed.

‘Mr Braithwaite would appreciate knowing what’s happening
before
it happens.’

‘I don’t know how to contact him.’

‘And I told you that we’ll be in contact. Mr Sampson serves an important function in the community but that doesn’t mean he’s untouchable. If he has been up to anything
behind Mr Braithwaite’s back, then it would be considered a courtesy if we were to find out before you tell anyone else.’

‘Fine.’

‘And he would also appreciate some progress.’

‘I’m off for the weekend – I have things to do.’

‘Good for you. I’ll be in touch.’

Andrew watched as Iwan swaggered towards the road. The big man waved over his shoulder and then climbed into a shiny black diesel-chugging vehicle and roared away. Andrew continued watching
until the car disappeared around the corner and then walked back to the marquee, where Keira was waiting a little inside the door.

She nodded towards the road. ‘Who was that?’

‘Just . . . something to do with work. I didn’t know he was coming.’

‘You’ve gone white.’

It took Keira to say it for Andrew to recognise that his heart was racing. He held his hands behind his back to stop her noticing they were shaking. She stared at him for a couple of seconds too
long before nodding towards the main hall.

‘You’ve been great this morning. All the kids love you. These sessions are part of a pilot scheme and we’ve had a few people from the council milling around . . .’

‘I didn’t realise.’

‘I didn’t want to make you nervous but they’ve gone now, smiles all over their faces.’ She was beaming with excitement. ‘They were talking about helping us to
expand into Lancashire and Greater Manchester, perhaps wider.’

‘That’s great.’

She was bouncing on her heels, reaching for his hand that was thankfully not trembling any longer. ‘We’ve still got a few minutes, let’s go get a biscuit.’

Andrew let her lead him, enjoying the warmth of her fingers against his. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her this happy. Despite her history degree, she’d always
wanted to work with young people. At one point after they’d got married, she’d talked about doing a post-graduate diploma to get into teaching. The problem, as with anything, was the
money. As a couple, they couldn’t afford it, and then they’d started to think about children of their own. This job gave her the opportunity to work with young people who needed help
and she was clearly good at it.

They continued into the hall and were on the way towards the refreshment stall when Andrew realised Keira had stopped. Her fingers slipped from his, leaving him standing by himself. Andrew
followed her line of sight and felt his heart flutter. Iwan was one thing but the man glaring at him was another matter entirely: the person of his nightmares, the reason why he and his ex-wife
didn’t have the life they had promised to each other.

Andrew’s eyes met those of Keira’s father for the briefest second, before Edgar Chapman uttered two utterly terrifying words.

‘Hello, Andrew.’

Andrew had never been able to explain the magnetism of Keira’s father. It was something that couldn’t be taught, an intrinsic part of the man’s make-up that
made him the centre of everything. When he walked into a room, people turned to look. When he spoke, they listened. He had a build similar to Iwan’s but it felt different because he was
older.

He and Andrew were opposites in so many ways. Andrew was instantly forgettable, a normal face among a sea of mediocrity. Even Aunt Gem thought people were out of his league but Keira was the
person who’d seen him as something else. They’d met in bizarre circumstances, become engaged in marginally stranger, and then run away to get married. They were made for each other and
he’d never find better.

Keira’s father continued to stare at Andrew. He was always cleanly shaven, with a full head of swept-back black and grey hair, and bristling dark eyes that could switch from welcoming to
dangerous in an instant. Andrew had rarely been welcomed by them and they were certainly not pleased to see him now.

‘It’s been a long time,’ Mr Chapman added.

Andrew nodded, unsure what to say.

‘What is it? Eight years? Nine?’

‘Yes.’

He demanded a specific answer: ‘Eight or nine?’

Keira stepped between them. ‘Daddy.’

Andrew cowered under his former father-in-law’s glare, breaking the gaze and staring at the wall, the window, the vat of orange squash. Any-sodding-where.

‘A word.’

Mr Chapman was thankfully talking to his daughter, not Andrew, who could only watch as they moved into the back corner. Father towered over daughter, hands out of his pockets. Andrew
couldn’t hear a word but the man’s body language said it all. He pushed himself onto tiptoes to appear taller; he arched his shoulders forward, trapping Keira in the cramped corner; he
nodded sideways towards Andrew; raised both hands palms upwards. He wasn’t happy.

Keira didn’t cower, maintaining eye contact and nodding along, not agreeing but not backing down either.

Around them, the break was coming to an end, with groups of youngsters drifting towards their next activities and coffee cups being stacked next to the sink. Andrew glanced through the window to
where he was supposed to be working. There were already kids looking back to the main building, wondering where he was. He had to go but he was fixed to the spot. Other people had started to notice
Keira in the corner, perhaps not realising the man in the suit standing over her was her father.

They’d been talking too quietly to be heard but Keira suddenly raised her voice, patting her father in the chest as she stepped away. ‘I can look after myself, Daddy.’

She sounded annoyed, heading for the marquee, where Andrew cut her off.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

They glanced behind, to where Mr Chapman was making his way out of the main door, watching them over his shoulder.

‘He’s just worried,’ Keira replied. She was close to tears, her voice wavering, eyes beginning to go red. ‘After everything that happened, he’s worried that I
don’t know what I’m doing.’

She dabbed a tissue underneath each eye, smiling thinly, breaking Andrew’s heart. This was his fault.

‘He doesn’t want to see me hurt again,’ she added.

Andrew started to reply but Keira was suddenly full of big, forced smiles. She peered over his shoulder towards the stupid Swedish man with whatever stupid problem he had. She squeezed
Andrew’s hand before heading into the hall. She put a hand on the Arsehole’s shoulder. ‘How can I help . . . ?’

The four locks clunked open and then Gem opened her front door. She was wearing her Sunday best: a long pink dress covered in yellow and blue flowers that was probably older
than Andrew, along with matching flat sandals. ‘I thought you said half past two,’ she frowned.

‘It
is
half-two.’

Gem turned around to check the clock. ‘You were brought up to be early.’ She headed inside, leaving Andrew to take off his shoes and relock the door. The kitchen smelled of roast
dinner, making Andrew’s mouth water.

‘Is everything working?’ he asked.

Gem flicked the kitchen light on and off, as if to prove the point. ‘He said it was something to do with the wiring. I hope he didn’t charge too much.’

‘Don’t worry about it – as long as everything’s working.’

She moved across to a saucepan, peering over her shoulder and talking while she stirred. ‘Do you remember Douglas from the legion?’

Andrew sat at the kitchen table, holding a hand down to ruffle Rory’s ears. ‘I’ve never been to the legion.’

‘But you know Douglas.’

‘I really don’t.’

‘Anyway, it was his grandson’s christening this morning, so he picked me up and we went to church. You’ll never guess who I saw there.’

‘Who?’

‘Guess.’

‘Gem . . .’

And off she went. Andrew spent a largely frustrating two hours listening to Gem’s stories about what so-and-so at the legion was up to, or the latest rumours from bingo. He did his best to
um and arr in the right places, slipping Rory a few pieces of lamb when he could. The pug lay at Andrew’s feet, apparently bored with the topic of conversation too. This was the reality of
life: people living in their own little worlds and finding happiness from those around them. It dawned on Andrew that he could scoff all he liked but he didn’t have this. If it wasn’t
for Jenny in the office and his clients, he would go days without talking to anyone. Of the two of them, who was the most pathetic – the woman who looked on the bright side of everything and
had friends all over; or the man with the money still trailing around after a woman he’d dumped years before?

‘How’s your little friend?’ Gem asked as Andrew switched back into the conversation.

‘Who?’

‘Jenny, of course. She was round here yesterday, sitting where you are, telling me all about what’s going on in her life.’

‘What about it?’

‘Oh, nothing. Just about her parents, her boyfriend.’

She never told Andrew about those things.

‘You’ve spent more time with her than I have,’ Andrew replied. ‘I’ve not seen her since Thursday.’

‘You really should think about settling down—’

‘Gem—’

‘Find a nice woman, someone who knows how to cook. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who’d like that flat of yours.’

Andrew leant back, scaring poor Rory, as he squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, wanting to be somewhere else. ‘We’ve been through this.’

Gem was oblivious. ‘I know, I know – I just want you to be happy. You’re not getting any younger.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Take it from me, you don’t want to be by yourself when you get to my age. Reg’s next-door neighbour has a daughter who’s in her thirties. I can put a word in if you
want?’