The One You Love (8 page)

‘Don’t be stupid, Lizzy,’ Emma replied, ‘I really appreciate what you’re doing, but you can’t let this go. Get over there now.’

‘You let your chance go,’ Lizzy countered.

‘That’s different, Lizzy, and you know it.’

‘It wouldn’t feel right. You shouldn’t be on your own.’

‘I’m not on my own, I’ve got Will too.’

‘Call him, now,’ Lizzy insisted. ‘Ask him to come over.’

‘I’ll go over to see him,’ Emma promised, ‘but I’ll just stay here for a bit. Get some extra clothes, you know.’

‘I can help you do that.’

‘No, you go,’ Emma insisted, shepherding her friend down the corridor, towards the door. She knew that the more time Lizzy had to think about this, the less likely she would be to take up the offer. ‘I’ll be fine, honestly.’

‘Promise you’ll call Will.’

‘Yes, I’ll call him.’ Emma opened the front door. ‘Now, you get going.’

‘You sure, Em?’ Lizzy backed out of the apartment as if being physically pushed. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d want to hang around here. Not on your own, anyway.’

‘Just for a while, then I’ll go to see Will.’

‘Okay,’ Lizzy said, ‘as long as you’re sure. And I’ll always have my mobile on. If you need anything, just call and I’ll come over straight away.’

‘Thanks,’ Emma said, ‘I’ll only be here for another couple of minutes.’

As she closed the apartment door she let down the pretence. In truth, she had wanted Lizzy to stay – the thought of being alone scared her witless – but she wasn’t going to let Lizzy give up her big chance. This was her problem, and ultimately she had to deal with it.

Within seconds she had buried the feelings of fear, if only temporarily.

She was already thinking about what she would ask Mrs Henderson.

12

‘Hello, Richard.’

He moved closer, towards the edge of the bed, watching Richard as he lay there motionless. Richard was in a better state than he had expected – more asleep than seriously injured. The doctors had obviously done a good job. But it was possible to make out the damage that had been done, just under his hairline, above his left eye – a purplish, inky bruise that seemed to leak into the surrounding skin.

‘You’re free to stay as long as you like,’ said the pretty Filipino nurse who had shown him to the private room. ‘The doctor has already been around this morning, so you won’t be disturbing anyone.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, watching Richard’s face for signs of life. It was weird thinking that he held his life in his hands.

‘So you are a work colleague?’

‘Pardon?’ he said, caught in a bit of a daydream, transfixed by the bleeps of the life-support machine and the thoughts of imminent death. ‘No, we met through a mutual friend. This is the first chance I’ve had to come and see him. It’s difficult to get time off, you see. But I really wanted to come and see how he is.’

‘That’s nice,’ said the nurse, checking the clipboard at the bottom of Richard’s bed. ‘He’s had a lot of visitors since he arrived here. It’s nice when someone is obviously loved so much.’

‘Yes, it is. The problem is,’ he added, ‘that the more you love someone, the harder it is to let them go.’

‘Yes,’ the nurse said, nodding. ‘But please try to think positively. Richard can get better.’

He smiled back at her, while thinking about how Richard’s loved ones would react to the news – and especially how Emma would feel. She would certainly take the news hard, and he was looking forward to watching the drama unfold.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ the nurse said, smiling sympathetically. He barely noticed that she had left, only registering he was finally alone with Richard when he heard the door close.

‘So,’ he said, leaning in towards Richard, placing both hands on the bed’s guardrails. He felt the bed lurch under his weight, seeming to symbolise the power he had at this moment.

He was the giver and taker of life.

‘It’s funny how things work out,’ he whispered into Richard’s ear. ‘You know,’ he said, as he looked at the tubes and wires spiralling from Richard’s body, ‘if there was any other way of doing this, then I would do it. But you shouldn’t think of this as a bad thing, Richard. It’s all part of the wider picture, the greater good. I hope you understand that.’

He moved a hand towards the ventilator and grasped one of the tubes. He was shaking and a bead of sweat tickled his face as it snaked down past his ear. This was going to be harder than he had expected.

‘You see, she needs to know,’ he said, pulling back again and letting go of the tube. ‘And you’re going to help her understand.’

13

The call had come out of nowhere. Shocked to hear his voice again after all that time, his first reaction was to hang up and hope he would go away. But he had been insistent, begging for him to come over. And then the threats came, so he had little choice but to go over there and find out what was going on.

When he arrived at the apartment it had been a stomach-churning sight. The place looked like an indoor rubbish dump. He had struggled even to open the door, pushing past unopened post and unread newspapers. Then there had been the lounge, which was decorated with plates of moulding, half-eaten food and open bottles of whisky and beer. The kitchen stank to high heaven. The smell, something that he could only liken to stale vomit, mostly came from the bin, which had attracted a number of fat black flies.

It was like a scene out of a horror movie.

He had found him in the bedroom, unconscious on the unmade bed with the telephone off the hook next to him. The room reeked of alcohol. His cheek was resting in a pool of crusted vomit and at first he had wondered whether he’d choked to death.

And he was ashamed to admit that for a split second he had actually been pleased to think that was the case.

But he was alive, and he’d done the right thing, calling the ambulance and even accompanying him to hospital. He had stuck around just long enough to know that he was going to be okay. Not that he really cared. All he really did care about was that this guy would leave him alone and let him get on with his life. But he wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen.

14

Will had sworn that he would never dial his number again. Just the idea of talking to him again, somehow inviting him back into his life, made his stomach turn. But what if his suspicions were true? He’d never be able to forgive himself if he just stood by and did nothing to help.

He stood away from the crowds in a more secluded part of the park. He’d been there for a while now, enough time for the back of his neck to start reddening under the strength of the sun. The case of mistaken identity was still playing on his mind, freezing him into inaction. It wasn’t so much the embarrassment at accosting the man, or the way he had looked at him. It was more the realisation of how fragile he still was when it came to that man and the situation that connected them.

He stared at his mobile phone, willing himself to call. Then he found the name and dialled.

The call went through to the message service.

He hung up, taking the inability to get through to him as some kind of heavenly reprieve, and spent another ten minutes or so wandering around Regent’s Park in the sunshine. But it was just putting off the inevitable. He stopped again, just outside the entrance to London Zoo. Throngs of families passed in and out, smiling and happy. Again he reached for his mobile and this time he called the landline number.

Again there was no answer.

Where the hell was he?

Will dialled the mobile number again. This time he decided to leave a message.

‘It’s Will. I want to know, did you attack Dan’s brother, Richard Carlton? Did you go to Emma’s flat and do that to him?’

He turned and moved away as a family approached.

‘If you are responsible for this, I want to know.’ He spoke under his breath. ‘And I swear, I will tell the police everything if I have to. I’m not bluffing – I mean it. I want to know if you have Dan. You promised that you’d keep Em out of this.’

He called off and spent another half an hour or so pondering his next move. Then his phone rang and he scrambled for it, thinking it could be him calling back.

But it wasn’t.

‘Hey, Em, you all right?’ he said, glad to hear Emma’s voice but unable to banish the feelings of guilt that now flowed every time he spoke to his sister.

He listened as Emma talked him through the police visit, the disappearance of the photos, the revelation that Mrs Henderson had said she saw Dan running from the flat, and the strange behaviour of Mr Henderson when they had questioned him. She was trying her best to sound positive on the phone, but Will knew her too well not to notice the strain in her voice. She was alone in that apartment. How bad could it get? While he was wallowing in self-pity, worried about how all this would impact upon him, his sister’s life was falling apart.

‘I’ll be over soon,’ he promised, glancing at his watch. ‘I just have to do something first.’

He said goodbye and headed straight for the tube. If the guy was ignoring his calls, the only option was to confront him face to face. He owed it to Emma.

***

‘Oh, hi,’ Will said, taken aback when an attractive twenty-something girl opened the door. It was the last thing he had been expecting – maybe he’d found a new girlfriend? ‘I was looking for…’

‘He doesn’t live here anymore,’ she interrupted, in a Scottish accent. ‘He moved out, and I’m the new tenant.’

‘Oh, right. You don’t know where he’s gone, do you?’

The girl laughed. ‘Know where he’s gone? I feel like his personal secretary, the amount of mail I’ve forwarded in the past two weeks. I wouldn’t care, but I haven’t even met the bloke.’

‘Lucky you,’ Will said, joking but serious at the same time.

‘Are you a friend?’ she asked, leaning against the opened door. Will noticed a tattoo just above her jeans waistband as her shirt rode up.

‘Yes,’ he lied, ‘although obviously not close enough for him to tell me that he was moving. So, you’ve got a forwarding address?’

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Come on in – I’ll just get it.’

Will followed her into the flat.

‘You’ve done this up nicely,’ he noted, as he surveyed the living room. He hadn’t planned to comment on interior design, but the difference compared to his last visit there was amazing. The place looked so much better – cleaner for a start. Before it had been dreary, even foreboding. But now it was inviting, homely.

‘Thanks,’ the girl said, rummaging around on the bookcase. ‘I try my best.’ She handed Will a piece of paper and three letters. ‘I thought you might like to deliver these by hand,’ she smiled.

‘Sure.’ Will looked at the address on the paper. He knew the area well, and it wasn’t the sort of place a person would choose to live unless they had no other choice.

‘You know,’ the girl said, ‘it’s really sad when the former tenant not only gets more mail than you, but more visitors too.’

Will looked up at her. ‘I find that hard to believe. You don’t have lots of visitors?’

‘Only moved down here two weeks ago from Edinburgh. I don’t know anybody here yet. Well, apart from some work colleagues – they seem okay.’

‘It takes time,’ Will replied, looking at the letters that he suspected were all junk mail of one kind or another. ‘London can be a pretty lonely place. But trust me; you’ll make many more friends than the guy who used to live here.’

***

Will arrived at the block of flats half an hour later. He paused on the grassy area outside and looked up the full twenty floors. It was an ugly concrete monstrosity. Balconies were decorated with satellite dishes, washing lines, even bicycles. It was like a vertical jumble sale. The walk from the tube had confirmed Will’s opinion of the area – it wasn’t a place in which he felt particularly comfortable.

He took a deep breath and approached the main doors. It was another intercom system. He pressed the button but there was no reply.

‘Fantastic.’

But this time he got lucky. As he paced around at the bottom of the steps a young woman carrying several bags of shopping passed by and entered the apartment block. He reached to hold out the door as she struggled to edge through the gap and then followed her inside. She didn’t question him.

The flat was on the sixth floor, and with the lift out of order it was a tiring climb. It gave him time, though, to think about what he was going to say. He reached the door and knocked, but no one answered. By the time the elderly woman interrupted him his gentle knock had turned into a full-blown thump on the door. He was losing patience.

‘He went out,’ the woman said, eyeing him suspiciously.