Speak No Evil (32 page)

‘Didn't think so. But don't worry, you'll be seeing them soon enough. In the meantime, Martin,' Amar said, grabbing the other man's arm, ‘let's go.'

‘Where to?'

‘To see an old friend of yours.'

The remaining colour drained from Flemyng's face.

Peta drove towards Newcastle as fast as she could. No radio, no music, no distractions. She wanted to think.

There was something niggling at her. She had tried to work out what it was all the way up the A1 but it had so far eluded her. Something to do with Tom Haig. Something he had said.

Or not said. Or the way he had said it. Or not said it.

Or something.

She relayed the conversation with Haig from the beginning, word for word, as well as she could remember it. Playing it over in her mind. Again. And again. Nothing came to her. But there was something. She just couldn't reach it.

So she tried not to think about it. Come at it from a different angle, think laterally, try to creep up on it by surprise. She thought instead about Donovan and his night out with Wendy. Unsure what to make of the situation. She thought of how Wendy had contacted him, out of the blue with the job—

And she had it. The thing that had been niggling her. How had Tom Haig found her mobile number? Neither she nor Amar had given it to him. So how had he got it?

Perhaps Flemyng wasn't the only one who needed further investigation.

She floored the accelerator.

‘Hi, Jack. Come in.'

Donovan opened the door to Albion, Jack entered. The look on Donovan's face – taut, sombre – did nothing to calm his fears about this meeting. Donovan attempted a smile, but Jack could tell it sat uneasily on his face.

‘Upstairs,' said Donovan, closing the door behind him. Jack walked slowly upstairs. He had seen a black and white film once about a murderer being sent to the gallows. The camera tracked him climbing the steps to the scaffold where he was hanged. That was exactly how he felt now. Condemned.

‘Any trouble getting here?' Donovan had tried to make his voice cheery and open but he couldn't disguise the tension.

‘No, it was fine.' That wasn't entirely true. Jack had felt as if he was being watched when he walked through the estate. There was a real tension in the air, as if something was about to happen. Something bad like a fight or a riot. He had thought he was imagining things or it was just him experiencing it, but Donovan's question made him think that maybe there was something more to it.

Jack reached the top floor. He went into the conference room where his mother was sitting on a leather sofa. If anything, she looked even worse than Donovan. Sitting up all night talking to Rob hadn't helped, but she looked even worse than expected.

‘Hello, son,' she said. ‘Come and sit down.'

She gestured towards the other sofa. Donovan slipped silently out of the room, closed the door behind him. Jack swallowed, waited.

‘Listen,' said Anne Marie, ‘I've got somethin' to tell you. It's important because it concerns all of our futures, and you in particular.'

She sighed. He waited. His body was so tense he could feel his muscles starting to ache.

‘You know I have … episodes. Bad episodes. I wish I didn't but … there you go. And you know we have to move around a lot. Well.' Another sigh. He noticed her hands were shaking. ‘There's a reason for that.'

‘It doesn't matter,' he said, his voice small and reedy. It did matter, but he didn't want to hear it. Not now. Not ever. Because he sensed that once he did, it was something that would tear his world apart.

‘It does,' his mother said. ‘I never wanted you to know this, but I think it's time you did. Because someone else has found out. And they're tryin' to tell everyone else. And they're tryin' to force us out.'

‘No …'

Another sigh. ‘Yes. I wish it wasn't like that, but it is. I thought I'd be able to come home and settle. But we can't. You can't go home again. An' it's because of this.' She looked down at her bandaged hands as if expecting to find strength there. She looked up again, clearly decided she couldn't face him with what she was about to say, looked back down again. ‘When I was young, younger than you, I did some-thin' bad. Really bad.'

Jack felt his heart hammering. It was hard to breathe. He didn't trust himself to speak.

Her head was bowed, eyes on her hands. ‘I … killed someone.'

Jack felt the world slip away beneath him. His head began to spin. He blinked. Once, twice. Looked at his mother. She was looking at him now, as if in pain.

‘Who …' His voice sounded like someone else's in his head.

‘A … child. A boy. And someone's found out about it. And they still hate me for it. And they want us to leave.'

Jack's head was now spinning like he was on a fairground ride. He had no words, no coherent thought, to describe how he felt at the words.

‘I … I used to be called another name. But that wasn't me. I am who I am now. It was … a … horrible thing to do. And I hate myself for it. I never stop thinking about it. I had a horrible time when I was a little girl. A horrible time …'

He looked at her, unable to speak. His mother started crying.

‘I'm sorry … I'm sorry …'

Jack felt like he would collapse. The walls seemed to be moving in on him. He felt trapped, suffocated. He swallowed. His throat was dry. He needed water, he needed air.

‘You … you …'

‘I'm still you mother, son. I love you. I won't let nothin' bad happen to you. I promise. It was … I was a different person then. Sometimes you do somethin' bad. Everyone does. Well, I did the worst thing imaginable.'

Jack stood up. ‘No … no …' He had to get out of there. Get some fresh air.

‘Jack, please …'

‘No … no …'

‘Jack …'

A sudden thought came to him, knifing into his mind, cutting through his mental fog. ‘The estate … there were two boys killed this week.'

Anne Marie reached out, tried to grab him. Didn't connect. ‘I had nothin' to do with them, honest.'

He looked at her bandaged hands. ‘Two boys …'

‘It wasn't me …'

‘No …' He had to get out. He had to think. He wanted to scream, to cry, to run. He wanted to sleep. Curl up into a ball, let oblivion overtake him. ‘No …'

He turned, made for the stairs and, before anyone could stop him, lurched down them.

‘Jack!'

Anne Marie reached the top of the stairs, he heard her behind him, following him. He ran. Through the front door, out into the lane.

‘Jack …'

He ran. And kept running.

‘Oh God, what have I done … what have I done …'

She sits on the sofa. Looking like all the life has drained from her, just the crumpled shell of a human being remaining. Donovan sits down beside her. She doesn't move, doesn't acknowledge his presence even.

He waits. Knows she will start speaking again soon.

‘Oh God …'

‘It was a risk,' he says.

She says nothing.

‘D'you want to go after him? D'you want me to go after him?'

After a long time, or what seems like a long time, she shakes her head. ‘No. Give him time to think. We'll … hopefully we'll talk later …'

‘OK. Listen, do you want to keep talking? Or would you rather have a break?'

She sighs again. Before she can answer, Donovan's mobile rings. He excuses himself to her, answers it. He walks to the other side of the room, away from her. Talks, hangs up He comes back, sits down next to her on the sofa again.

‘Well,' he says. That was Amar. He's on the way herefrom the station. He's bringing someone to meet you. I think it should solve a lot of problems.'

She looks up, a fearful expectation in her eyes. ‘Is it
…'
She can't bring herself to finish the question.

Donovan nods. ‘It sounds like we've got him. All you have to do is see him for yourself, we'll take him away and then that'll be it.'

She is still looking at him, desperately wanting to believe him. Fear overtakes her. ‘No, he'll see me, he'll get me …'

‘No, he won't. Amar will bring him in, you can see that he's going nowhere and then we'll hand him over to the police. End of story. The spell will be broken. No more bad spirits.'

She looks like she desperately wants to believe him but fear won't allow her to.

‘I promise.'

She sighs again. Nods. Lets his words sink in, realizes he is telling the truth. And then the tears start.

26

‘Thanks,' Jack said.

‘What for?'

‘For meeting me like this. When I called. I … I really appreciate it.'

Abigail smiled. ‘That's what friends are for.'

They were back in the same juice bar in Eldon Square but everything else was different. The day was ending, the sky had darkened, the air harsher and colder. When they looked out of the window over to Eldon Square itself, the harmless goths, emos and drunks of the daytime seemed to have taken on a more sinister aspect. Shadowed and hunched and sodium-lit, they no longer sprawled, they patrolled, guarded their territory, warned unwary wanderers to stay away.

All around them the staff were trying to close up, their daytime shifts coming to an end. Jack was conscious of all this, but he didn't want to give up his time with Abigail so easily.

He had phoned her as soon as he had stopped running after he left Albion. His head was so messed up, he couldn't think. It was far too early to describe, even to himself, what impact his mother's revelation had on him. He had to talk to someone. Not even to sort it out – because there was nothing he could do to sort it out, it had already happened – just to connect. Abigail had been the obvious choice. And, of course, he wanted to see her again. Even under these circumstances. Under any circumstances.

He watched her sip her smoothie through her straw. Loved the way her cheeks went in, the way she swallowed. The enjoyment in her eyes as the liquid went down. She looked up, caught him staring. Looked away quickly.

She licked her lips, sat back, looked at him once more. He noticed something in her eyes. A distraction, a tension. Was it him causing that, or was there something more? Something she hadn't said?

He watched her. ‘So, what about you? Everything fine with you? Your trip to Newcastle still working out well?' God, that was so lame. Why couldn't he come out with anything but lame stuff when he was with her?

She sighed, sat back, flicking her long hair out of the way. ‘God, where do I start?'

He smiled. ‘Wherever you like.' He hoped she would talk. That's what he needed. To hear her talk. To not have to think too much about his own troubles, lose himself in someone else.

‘Well, I had a shock this morning. Just when I thought everything was going well, I bumped into my dad's girlfriend.'

‘Where?'

‘In the kitchen.'

‘Oh.'

‘Yeah. She was like, oh, you must be the daughter. I've just, you know, shagged your dad.'

He laughed. Abigail seemed taken aback at his reaction and he thought he had done the wrong thing again. But then she joined him.

‘Yeah,' she said, smiling, ‘when you say it like that it does sound kind of funny. But it wasn't at the time.'

‘Are your parents divorced, then?'

‘No, but they're separated. Haven't lived together since – for years.'

‘Well, that's OK, isn't it? For them both to have new people in their lives?'

‘I suppose so. It's just that … that's why I came up here. Mum's got this new guy. And he's OK, you know. She likes him and that. And he's good to me. But sometimes he gets all, you know, like, telling me what to do. Like, I'm your dad. I say, you're not. You're my mum's boyfriend. Don't act like my dad. And he gets all, like, upset and we have a row.'

Jack nodded. ‘I know the feeling.'

‘Right. Well, last week, she announces to me, well, they both do. You know, sitting down on the sofa together, me on a chair, them looking at me, smiling. Then they tell me. Mum's going to get divorced from dad. And they're going to get married. And I just blew up.'

Jack frowned. ‘Why? You didn't think they'd get back together again, did you?'

Abigail puts her head down, her hair falling forward. She plays with her straw, swirling it round her glass, scraping the froth off the sides. ‘Well … you kind of hope they would. And … well, this just seems so final.'

Jack nodded. ‘But it happens all the time.'

‘Yeah, but …' She sighed, still scraping at the froth. ‘There's something else. Something I haven't told you yet.'

Yet.
He liked that
yet.
‘What?'

My … brother. I had a brother. Have, I don't know.'

‘What, what happened to him?'

‘He disappeared. He was out shopping with my dad and then …' She shrugged. ‘He just disappeared.'

‘God.'

‘Yeah. We tried to find him, my dad spent years looking for him. And he couldn't find him. Not a trace. It was what split us up, really. What sent him away. Just, David not being there any more.'

‘But … he still had you.'

‘I know. And that used to make me so angry. Because I was there and David wasn't. And Dad went looking for David. Really angry. But he said to me, if it was the other way round, if it was me who'd disappeared, he would do the same. He wouldn't stop until he found me.' She sighed. ‘But it didn't matter. I was so angry I couldn't see that.'

‘And he never found him?'

She shook her head. ‘And he says he'll never stop looking.'