An Unfamiliar Murder (15 page)

 
There were only a few tables
occupied and she quickly disregarded the lady sitting on her own on the sofas
next to the fire. There was a middle aged man, busy reading a newspaper, who
didn’t even look up, and a younger man sitting on one of the leather sofas in
the window. As her eyes met his he stood immediately, a gesture obviously
intended to invite her over to join him.
He
doesn’t really look like a criminal,
she thought.

“Anna?” He held out his hand which she shook warily. “It’s good to see
you at last. I’m Robert, but everyone calls me
Rab
.”
His eyes sparkled, his wide grin was easy. She pressed her lips together, not
quite knowing what to say and removed her coat.

As they squashed down into the sofas opposite each other, Anna stared at
her brother for the first time. He shared her dark features with the addition
of a swarthy face, as if he would have a permanent five o’clock shadow, however
many times of day he shaved. His navy sweat top hung loose over his jeans which
fitted snugly over thighs that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a rugby
field.

“Why
Rab
?” she asked.
No wonder I couldn’t find him on Facebook.

“It’s what our mother used to call me. Scottish for Robert.”

“Oh.”

“Can I get you a coffee, perhaps something to eat?” He gestured towards
the menu and she smiled awkwardly, leaning over to grab it.

“This is all a bit strange isn’t it?” he added. She looked up from the
menu at his mischievous, crooked smile and wrinkled nose and couldn’t help but
chuckle.

“It is a bit,” she agreed, wrinkling her own nose.

“Well, listen. How about we just sort of pretend that we’re old friends
who haven’t seen each other for years? You order what you like off the menu,
late lunch on me. If you’re hungry that is?”

“Sure.” She wasn’t, but for some reason, speech eluded her so she stuck
her head in the menu.

“Can I help you?” Anna turned to see that the waitress had crept over to
the table and was standing next to her. Her bleached, blond hair was swept off
her face, apart from a stray strand hanging down and she hung onto the tied
cord of her long, black apron with one hand, the other holding a pad and pen.
Her young eyes stared at
Rab
, agog.

 
“Yes, I’ll have one of these
focaccia breads with brie and grape, and a plain, black coffee.”
Rab
looked up and smiled.

“Certainly,” she smiled back, raising her eyelids and tilting her head as
she did so.

Rab
looked across the table, “Anna?” The
waitress followed his gaze and looked at Anna as if she had only just noticed her.
Then she looked at the bike folded next to her and frowned.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to move that,” she said
curtly.

 
“Why?” Anna asked, surprised.

“It’s a health and safety hazard. Somebody might fall over it. You can
park it outside.” She pointed her pencil lazily at the pavement outside the
window.

“I can’t,” Anna replied firmly. “It’s borrowed and I promised my friend
that I wouldn’t let it out of my sight.”

Rab
looked across at Anna and then at the bike.
He quickly flashed the waitress another smile. “It’s really not doing any harm
is it?” She looked back at him warily. “Aww, come on, it’s not as if you’re
really busy.” He looked around the Cafe as he spoke and then back to her. Her
taut face was clearly softening. “How about we keep an eye on it and if anyone
comes near, then we’ll move it straight away?”

“Well . . .” She hesitated, then nodded. “OK then, but it is your
responsibility. Make sure you keep a watch.”

“Thanks.” Anna caught him wink at her. Having forgotten what she wanted,
she ordered the same as
Rab
. Then, watching the waitress
finally retreat to the kitchen she blew a deep breath out of her pursed lips
and nodded at
Rab
. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked back at the bike. “I watched you fold it down
outside. It’s a mean feat of engineering. I’ve never seen anything like it.
What make is it?”

“It’s a
Brompton
, you know, a city bike.” She
pointed at the smaller wheels. “British made. They’ve become really popular
over the last few years. This is the latest model.”

“Wow!” He seemed genuinely surprised and got up to inspect it. “It’s
incredible.”

“I guess.”

Rab
was examining the bike in great detail, he
flicked the brake lever, fingered the gears. “This really is amazing.”

“You like bikes?” she asked.

He looked back at her. “Any gadgets really. My nickname is ‘Techy’,
that’s what my mates call me.” He moved back over to the sofas. “I’ve been
fascinated by stuff like that ever since I was a kid. The Gadget Show is my
favorite
programme
on TV.”

Anna smiled inwardly. They didn’t share that trait in common. “It doesn’t
belong to me,” she shrugged, “I borrowed it from a friend.” Anna wondered why
she hadn’t said ‘boyfriend’. Ross was, after all, her boyfriend. But somehow it
didn’t feel like the right time to make personal revelations.
Rab
was, as everyone had reminded her, a stranger. She
could tell him these things later. If there was going to be a later . . .

“You said. But you like cycling?”

“I love it.” She took a deep comfortable breath. “It’s freedom.”

 
“Do you drive?”

“Yes, but I don’t have a car at the moment.”

“Same here. I love to drive. Used to go-kart when I was a kid.”

“Really, which track did you use?”

“
Rightons
. Just outside Worthington. Did you ever kart?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But I grew up in Worthington. I wondered if it was that one.
My friends and I used to go up to the track and watch a bit when we were
teenagers.”

He smiled. “Maybe you saw me?”

“You never know.” Anna shrugged. “Where are you from?”

Rab
held out his arms. “Weston. Born and bred.”
Anna smiled politely and nodded.
That explains
Mum’s aversion to the place.

“Don’t you have a bike of your own?”

“Yes, well no . . .”

He raised his eyebrows and his eyes danced at her as the mischievous
smile returned to his lips. “Yes or no?”

She cleared her throat, feeling slightly embarrassed. “The police have it
at the moment.” Anna watched his face fall, his eyes growing serious as
comprehension hit home.

“
Ahhh
. . .” It was obvious from his expression
that he hadn’t wanted to reach this point. It wasn’t yet time to discuss recent
family events. He looked absently out of the window. She followed his gaze. A
man had stopped in the doorway of the shop on the other side of the road. He
appeared to be looking over at them. She scrunched up her eyes, struggling to
focus through the mist. He looked strangely familiar, although she couldn’t
think where she had seen him before. As he met her gaze, he seemed to turn
abruptly to face the doorway. When he turned back he had lit a cigarette.

“Anna?” The sound of
Rab’s
voice wrenched her
attention back to the moment. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, just thought I recognized somebody.”

He followed her eyes. “Where?”

“Across the road.” But when she looked back the man had gone.
Rab
sat back and looked at her.

“Sorry,” she said hastily, shaking her head.

“That’s alright.”

“I’m sorry for
your
loss too,”
she said, directing the conversation back to
Rab
.

He lifted his head, did a backwards nod, then turned to watch a white van
pass by the window. When he finally spoke his voice was barely audible, “It’s a
tragedy.”

Her heart swelled with compassion. “I’m so sorry, really.”

He rubbed his hand vigorously over his forehead and faced her. “So am I.
He was your father too, and he died before you could meet him again.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to Anna. She pondered it for a moment,
before she said, “Why do you think he was killed in my flat?”

“No idea. I would like to find out though.” His eyes glazed over for a
moment. “He would have been so proud of you.”

Anna fidgeted, changing position on the squashy sofa, and looked out of
the window again. She could see from the reflection in the glass that he was
now staring at her, a look of total bewilderment on his face.

“You didn’t know, did you?” He spoke slowly, the perception in his voice
startling her.

“What?”

“About us?”

She looked back at him. “I didn’t know I was adopted, if that’s what you
mean.”

“They never told you?”

“Never.”

“I can’t believe it.” He was shaking his head now, astonished. “All those
times I was told by the services we would be reunited, be together again. They
would arrange visits . . . Soon, always soon . . . But as the years passed and
I was moved from one foster home to another, I realized that these were all
lies. We were lost in the system, off their statistics and I would have to bide
my time until I was an adult and could find you myself. I went through the
normal channels but was blocked. Your people refused to give me access. So, I
managed to trace you. But never for one moment did I think that they wouldn’t
tell you.” He looked as if he had seen a ghost. “When
did
you find out?”

 
“Two black coffees and two
focaccias!” The crisp voice of the waitress startled her and she moved back,
allowing her to lean over and place them on the table in front of them, before
returning to the bar. Anna sat forward, grateful for the interruption, and
reached for the sugar. She never drank black coffee. She busied herself with
the spoon, shuffling the plates around on the table. When she finally looked up
Rab
was still staring at her, his eyes heavy.

“Tell me about our mother,” she said finally, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Umm . . .” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, she died when I was eight
years old, and you were three. That’s when, you know, you were taken away.”
Again silence.

“What was she like?” Anna reached for the mug and lifted it to her mouth,
jumping back slightly as the hot coffee burnt her lip.

“She was lovely. You look very much like her. I have photos. I can show
them to you sometime if you like?”

“I’d like that.” She leant over and tore open another sachet of sugar.

 
“So, what do you do, for a living
I mean?” he asked. “I guess you don’t usually while away your afternoons
drinking coffee.”

She laughed. “I wish. No, I’m a school teacher.”

“What age?”

“Secondary. “

“Wow! Do you enjoy it?”

She watched him place a huge chunk of bread in his mouth and thought
about his question. It seemed that over the past few weeks prior to the murder,
she spent a great deal of time moaning about the politics of ambitious colleagues
at work, the cuts in the education budget, the Year 10 history class on Fridays
that preceded PE being sheer hell – far too much testosterone flying around the
room, reducing concentration in her male students. But she suddenly realized
that during these few days away she kind of missed it. She craved the keen,
enthusiastic faces of those with a thirst for knowledge that made her job feel
worthwhile, coupled with the challenge of turning the odd new head and watching
a flicker of interest grow. “Yeah, I guess I do. What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What do you do?”

“Oh . . . I’ve just qualified as a plumber. I’m looking for work at the
moment.”

“Oh. Do you like it?”

“Plumbing? Well I enjoyed the training, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t
like it. Wait and see when I get out into the real world.”

“Doesn’t your training take you out and about, as well as in college?” An
awkward silence followed. Anna looked out of the window again as a woman
passed, pushing a pram. She stopped momentarily to retrieve a discarded toy,
fallen from within. As she stood up she bent over the pram to caress the baby’s
head, her smile that of a doting mother, before heading off again.

“I trained ‘inside’.” He placed an emphasis on the final word.
So, he expected me to know.

“In prison?” She shot him a surprised look.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” An awkward silence followed. “What did you do?”

“Sorry?”

“What did you go to prison for?” she asked boldly, inwardly flinching, as
if she wasn’t sure that she really wanted to hear the answer.

“I made a mistake.” He shook his head and averted his gaze, as if the
gesture would wipe his past clean, like cloth on a whiteboard. “I made a
mistake – once. I did the time and paid for it.” He shifted uncomfortably, the
leather sofa squeaking beneath him and ran his hand through his hair. When he
finally spoke he directly met her gaze, although his flat smile didn’t reach
his eyes. “Listen, can we talk about this another time?” His eyes were like
deep pools and she guessed there was an awful lot going on beyond the surface.

Anna gave a concessionary shrug. “OK.”
So he wants to hold back too.
She could be patient. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just that I’d rather not be judged by my past. Let’s get to
know each other first.”

The word ‘past’ sounded hauntingly familiar to Anna and, brimming like an
over full tea cup, she certainly didn’t wish to court any new revelations. Not
today anyway. She noticed a book, peeking out from the jacket which lay over
the back of the sofa.

“You like to read?” she asked, nodding to it.

Glancing back at the book, he smiled, looking visibly relieved at the
sudden change in subject. “Yes, very much. You?”

“Yes.”