Untouchable (27 page)

And I’m glad, I realize. I want him to suffer. It’s the only thing that makes my life bearable.

A sharp rap on the glass by my head. I jump. Look up to see a man peering in. A man I recognize. I turn the ignition and press the button to lower the window.

‘Is there a problem …’ He sees my face more clearly and his expression changes, his mouth drooping with surprise. ‘Grace! What the fuck are you doing here?’

I stare back at Ed. I don’t know what to say. I can’t think of a single decent excuse to explain my presence.

‘I …’

He stares at me. ‘Let me in.’

I lean over and release the catch to the passenger door. He walks round, glancing at the building behind him as he slips inside.

Ed turns to me and frowns. ‘I can’t hang around, Grace, I’ve just finished my shift and I’ve got to get up to the surgery. But seriously, what the hell are you doing here?’

‘Only passing through, Ed, OK? I just …’ I search again for a plausible reason. Then decide on the truth. ‘Actually I’ve no idea what I’m doing here. I was in the area and I needed to … I just needed to not avoid it any more.’

‘So you heard?’ He nods his head towards the prison.

I gaze back at him. ‘Heard what?’

Ed studies my face for a moment, then frowns. Raises his right hand and rubs his forehead. ‘Shit, I assumed you knew.’

‘Knew what, Ed?’ My tone sharper, more urgent.

‘He’s out. On licence.’

‘How?’ I yelp. ‘He got an indeterminate sentence. He’s classed as a dangerous offender, for God’s sake.’

‘Farrish served his tariff, Grace. He was up for parole.’

‘Yes, but surely they wouldn’t fall for … not again.’ I groan. Cover my mouth with my hands. I feel hollow. Like my insides have melted and drained away.

Ed sighs. ‘You know how it goes. New guy heading up the board. Farrish giving him the full butter-wouldn’t-melt routine.’

‘But they know his record …’

‘Matthews brought it all up. But the board decided he no longer poses a risk to the public.’

‘That’s insane.’ I swallow, the threat of tears making my eyes sting. ‘The fucking stupid bastards.’

Ed clears his throat. ‘You can’t blame them, Grace. You remember what Michael Farrish is like … how convincing …’

He doesn’t go on. Thank God. Doesn’t spell it out for me.

I don’t reply.

He studies me, his eyes searching for mine. I can’t bring myself to look him full in the face. We sit in silence for a few minutes before Ed speaks.

‘Grace, no one really blames you … Farrish is a clever bastard. Very …’ he searches for the word. ‘Very … charismatic. You just got caught up in it all.’

I lift my eyes to his, wanting to smile. Note how his hair still curls to the right, a little cowlick that makes him look like the soft touch he isn’t. I always liked Ed. He’s that rare thing – a prison officer with genuine compassion. Somehow maintaining an optimistic view of human nature in the face of daily examples to the contrary.

‘That’s a very generous way of looking at it,’ I say.

He keeps his gaze fixed on my face. ‘You can’t go back, Grace. You’ve got to let yourself off the hook and put it behind you.’

I nod again.

‘I mean it. You’ve paid enough for this already. Let it go.’

He puts his hand on the lever to open the car door.

‘Wait,’ I say, grabbing his arm and asking him the one thing I know I ought not to. ‘Where is he?’

Ed gives me a pitying look. ‘C’mon, Grace. You know I couldn’t tell you that, even if I had any idea.’

He gets out the car quickly, half slamming the door behind him, then walks round to my open window. Reaching in, he pulls my chin up so I have to meet his eyes.

‘Good to bump into you, girl. Really. Now fuck off and make sure I never see your face round here again.’

40

Friday, 10 April

I get to Raffey’s place just after five. Park on the opposite side of the road and suss out the two lads hanging around outside. They’re both smoking, laughing and kicking at a tennis ball, jostling each other as they slam it against the wall of the house.

I decide to chance it. Walk up to the front door, fully aware that they’re both hovering a few feet away, sizing me up.

‘Fuck off,’ Raffey says to them as he opens the door and pulls me into the heat. The taller one scowls and drops his fag end on the ground, grinding it out. They slink off down the street.

This time he leads me straight into the kitchen. It’s surprisingly neat, all the surfaces clean, almost gleaming. No dirty crockery in the sink or clutter on the worktops. A load of laundry quietly revolving in the washing machine. It seems Raffey picked up some good habits while doing time.

I stand there, half hoping he’ll offer me a drink. Even a cup of tea. But the swiftness of his movements and the way he avoids my eyes tells me he doesn’t want me hanging around any longer than I have to.

Shit, I should never have asked him to do this. To take this kind of risk. What the hell was I thinking?

He leans down and reaches into the cupboard under the sink. Removes a carrier bag with a Primark logo and places it on the kitchen table. Pulls out a shoe box and raises the lid.

I look inside. Nod.

‘You ever used one of these before?’

I shake my head.

He lifts out the gun. Then puts his hand back in the carrier and takes out a small black plastic bag, the kind people use to pick up dog muck. Removes several bullets and loads them into the barrel, clicking it shut.

‘It’s that simple, really.’ He pushes a little switch with his thumb, holding the gun at an angle so I can see what he’s doing. ‘That’s the safety catch. Release it like this if you want to fire.’ He flicks the switch off again and hands the gun to me.

I take it from him carefully. There’s a star on the handle and a model number with MADE IN CHINA etched underneath in crude uneven capitals. It’s like something you’d buy in Toys R Us; only this is heavier, the dark metal cold to the touch. It can’t have been here long, I realize, or it would have adjusted to the heat in the house.

I picture the two boys outside. Did they deliver this? Another pang of guilt as I think how many people I’ve already dragged into the mire with me. Step over the line, and the consequences ripple out all around you.

‘Here.’ Raffey shows me the remaining contents of the Primark bag, holding it open by the handles so I can peer inside. I reach in, feel the cool metal.

Exactly what I asked for. Prison issue, by the look of them.

He stands back, leaning against the sink. Subjects me to his unnerving scrutiny.

‘Long way to come to tool up,’ he says, running his tongue over his teeth.

I shrug. ‘Easier than trying to make connections in London. Besides, I needed to get out of town.’

‘Not come looking for him then?’ Raffey’s look has a kind of leer in it that makes me feel physically sick. I don’t even grace it with a reply.

‘I hear he’s out. Farrish,’ he persists, nodding approvingly at the gun in my hand. ‘Shame you didn’t have it before, Grace. You could have shot that cunt back then. Saved everyone a load of trouble.’

I think of Michael’s flat, the one he moved into after his initial release. That sordid high rise out on the Pallesey estate, with its piss-reeking corridors and broken lifts.

Would I, I wonder. If I’d had this gun in that gloomy little room, would I have used it?

But that’s not the right question, I realize, as I examine the places where use has worn the colour from the metal. The real question is not whether I’d have shot Michael.

The real question is whether I would simply have turned it on myself.

41

Saturday, 11 April

Anna’s late. Twenty minutes so far. I sit on the park bench shivering in the cold snap that’s descended on London, winter cocking a last snook at spring. I’m wearing jeans, a thick sweatshirt and a coat, and I still feel underdressed.

Eventually I see her in the distance, hurrying up the hill towards me. She has her hands thrust deep in the pockets of her jacket. She is wearing a giant wool scarf, wound loosely round her neck, her chin hidden in its folds. It looks like something your gran would knit you, but probably cost more than my whole outfit.

Anna drops on to the bench beside me, wincing as the chill in the wood penetrates her jeans. ‘This is a bit rural, isn’t it? Why not just meet at the pub?’

‘I thought it would make a change,’ I lie.

Anna’s expression is sceptical. ‘So where have you been? I tried ringing you several times on your new number, but your phone was always off.’

‘I had to go and sort a few things out.’

Another quizzical look. But this time she doesn’t comment.

‘Why the new mobile anyway?’

‘I lost the other one.’ I feel myself flush. The lies are stacking up like interest on a bad debt, and it’s not making me feel any better.

Over in the playground a couple of kids start whooping with excitement, chasing each other around the elaborate rope climbing frame. Anna glances over and quickly looks away.

Hell. I should have chosen somewhere else.

‘Let’s go.’ I get up and head over to the patch of woodland on the crest of the hill, Anna’s pace falling into step with mine. We walk side by side between the bare trees, neither of us speaking. Watching our breath disperse into the air like smoke.

‘Fuck this,’ Anna says after a few minutes. She pulls me towards the café on the edge of the park. Orders two hot chocolates and a huge slab of carrot cake. We sit at a table by the window; you can see the lake through the trees. I keep an eye on everyone who passes by, while trying to hide it from Anna.

‘Eat,’ she says, handing me a fork. ‘You look like you haven’t bothered in days.’

I take a mouthful of the dense sponge and chew it slowly, letting the sweetness spread across my tongue. A sip of the hot chocolate to chase it down. I hope all this sugar isn’t going to make me sick.

‘So what’s going on?’ Anna’s expression tells me she’s had enough of being fobbed off. ‘You’re as jumpy as a scalded cat.’

I study the pattern of the froth on my mug, the heart-shaped dusting of cocoa powder. What can I tell her? I can’t bear to keep lying; equally I can’t think of anything I can say that won’t involve her further.

‘Is this something to do with Elisa?’

I look back up at Anna, sharp as ever. I still don’t answer.

‘OK, I get it.’ She gives me a once-over. ‘Best if I don’t know.’

‘Sorry.’

‘No need to be. I’m concerned about you, that’s all.’

I nod.

‘So, if you’re not here to tell me what’s going on, and we’re clearly not just meeting for a casual chat, what exactly is it you want me to do?’

‘Actually …’ I hesitate. ‘OK … I do have a couple of favours to ask you.’

‘Fire away.’

‘I need Janine’s address. You’ve been there, haven’t you? You did a duo with her, I seem to remember.’

She squints at me across the table. ‘Why not ring her and ask?’

I swallow. ‘I’d rather go round and see her.’ Calling would forewarn her. I want the element of surprise.

‘OK, it’s in Islington. Belbridge Road. Number 17, I think. You can’t miss it ’cos it’s the only house with a bay window. Middle flat.’

‘Thanks.’ I make a mental note of the address.

‘So what’s the other one?’

I gaze at her.

‘Favour? You said you had a couple of things to ask me.’

Reaching into my coat, I pull out a small clear plastic box containing the SD-card. Press it into her hand.

‘Take care of this for me, will you? Put it somewhere safe, somewhere no one can stumble across it.’

She examines it for a moment, then picks up her handbag and zips it into an inside pocket. ‘I suppose I can’t ask what’s on there?’

I shake my head. ‘And please don’t look.’ I reach over and place my hand on hers. ‘It’s a big ask, Anna, I know, but can you do that for me?’

Anna’s eyes fix on my face. I see her fighting the urge to know more.

‘You have my word.’

‘Only, if something happens to me … if I …’

‘What the fuck are you talking about, Grace?’ Her voice is a suppressed growl, lowered but insistent. ‘Are you in some kind of trouble? I mean real trouble? Not just money shit.’

I stare out the window. Realize I’m on the lookout for them – not only for them, but him too – examining every male that walks past. Though I know he’s miles away. No way Michael would risk breaking probation. Not this time.

‘Grace?’

I turn back. ‘Yes, I am. But I’m going to deal with it, all right? But in case something does happen … if it all goes wrong, even if it looks like an accident, I want you to do two things for me. I want you to copy the stuff on that card and send it to every national newspaper in the country. And then I want you to take it to the police.’

‘And say what?’ Her expression both astonished and horrified.

‘Say it came from Elisa’s flat.’

‘But how do I explain how I got hold of it?’

I chew the inside of my lip. Think for a few seconds. ‘Tell them I took it, when I went round to see Kristen.’

Anna leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. ‘Jesus, Grace, this sounds like some serious crap you’ve got yourself mixed up in.’

I grimace. Don’t bother to deny it. There’s no point bullshitting Anna. She may lack my clinical training, but she has a natural lie detector honed by years of being screwed around by men.

‘Why me?’ she asks suddenly.

‘Because you’re about the only person I can trust not to look.’

She frowns. ‘What is this? Pandora’s box? Open the lid and unleash all the evil into the world.’

‘Or all the good. It’s hard to tell at this point.’

Her eyes search my face for clues. I can sense her desperation to ask more. ‘Grace, I’m suddenly more than just worried about you. I’m really
scared
for you.’

I swallow and stare back out the window. A sparrow lands on one of the outside tables, pecking at crumbs. Another dive-bombs in beside him and they both fly away.

‘I’m scared too.’ I say, facing her.