Because She Loves Me (23 page)

Harold stared at me with his milky eyes while the dog sat at his feet.

‘So . . . Karen?’ I said.

He ignored me. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Andrew.’

I didn’t like the way he was suddenly looking at me.

‘There’s something following you, Andrew,’ he said in a hushed voice, leaning forward. I leant back. On the wall behind him was a canvas with a disturbing image: a woman with no eyes in her face, reaching out while flames danced around her. I looked at the nearest bookshelf: fat tomes with titles like
English Magick: The Dark Art
and
The Life and Eternal Death of Aleister Crowley
stood out.

‘Following me?’ I said.

His earlier smile had vanished. ‘Something has attached itself to you. A . . . a dark spirit. It’s hiding – or trying to hide.’ He peered closer, and I looked behind me to see what he was staring at, half-expecting to see a demon, crouched and giggling behind its wing, on the back of the chair.

‘You won’t be able to see it, Andrew. But it’s there.’ He gasped.

This was extremely unnerving.

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Have you suffered a lot of . . . bad luck recently?’

I hesitated. ‘I’ve had some.’

‘I thought as much. It’s a mischief maker, this spirit. It likes to create chaos.’ He narrowed his eyes and his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘It’s dangerous, Andrew. But I could help you rid yourself of it. Perhaps.’

My flesh was coarse with goose bumps. ‘No offence, but you’re giving me the creeps.’

He smiled. ‘You’re a sceptic. Most people are, unfortunately. But when it’s too late, then you’ll believe.’

I stood up, setting the Scotch aside. I couldn’t wait to tell Charlie about this later. She would laugh at my description of the old man and his portentous warnings. ‘Can you tell me about Karen? Where is she?’

He frowned and said, ‘Oh dear’ again.

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, Andrew. But she’s dead. She died some days ago.’

Twenty-seven

Trains clattered in and out of Victoria station, lovers kissed goodbye, mothers tilted buggies into carriages, commuters headed home, pigeons fluttered and crapped, cleaners cleaned, guards guarded, bodies streamed and jostled and shoved. And among it all, I stood as still as death, fixed in place while the entire world – or so it felt – jostled past me, and I half-listened to the eardrum-pounding announcements:
I am sorry . . . Due to an accident . . . The 17:45 to Orpington is currently delayed . . . A person being killed on the tracks.

I had called Charlie, who told me she was going to have to work late, wouldn’t be back till after eight at the earliest. I tried Sasha. She wasn’t answering. But I needed to talk to someone. If I didn’t see a friendly face I might be driven crazy by the voices in my head. Tilly. I would go to see Tilly. It would get me out of London too, if only for an evening. The news of Karen’s death had sent me spinning. In my head: a clamour of voices, swirling question marks, sparking connections. I couldn’t process it all, couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even make sense of the displays and the announcements at the station, getting in everyone’s way as they tutted and pushed me. If you want to know what it would be like if civilisation broke down, go to a train station in London at rush hour, where it’s every man for himself, every woman too. The state I was in now, I would be one of the first to perish in a dog-eat-dog world. One of the first to die.

A dark spirit has attached itself to you.

Harold Franklin, Spiritualist – that was the job title on the business card he pressed into my palm when he saw me out – didn’t know how Karen had died.

‘It was all very mysterious,’ he said, trying to conceal how he relished the intrigue of it. ‘An ambulance turned up in the middle of the night. Next thing, they’re carrying her out . . . Two days later, her sister is here, cleaning out the fridge and no doubt helping herself to anything she fancied. All she told me was that Karen was dead. Such a pity. She was a beauty, wasn’t she?’

‘Can’t the spirits tell you what happened?’ I asked.

His face darkened. ‘There’s no need to take that attitude, young man.’ And with that, he ushered me out.

Somehow, I made it onto an Eastbourne-bound train, crammed in by the luggage racks. All the way to the coast, I kept picturing Karen the last time I’d seen her. She hadn’t looked well. Certainly not the vital, sexy woman I’d once known, the woman with a zest for life and a don’t-give-a-shit attitude. She had once told me that the most important lesson she’d learned in life was a simple one. ‘It’s short. Much too short. And I intend to make the most of every minute of it.’

She hadn’t realised how brief her own life would be. Karen was, what? Forty-one, I think. She should have been halfway through her time on this planet; not even that. What the hell had taken her away? How had it happened?

The train sped south, and questions ricocheted around my skull, almost making connections. Almost.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘That’s a nice greeting, sis.’

Tilly looked up at me from her wheelchair. ‘Sorry, it’s just . . . I haven’t seen you for ages. Has something happened? Is Charlie OK?’

‘She’s fine. She’s at work. Can I come in?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

I followed her into the living room. The smell of perfume hung in the air, threatening to make me sneeze. I looked at Tilly properly. She was dressed up, wearing a pair of black trousers and a tight top, her hair curled and voluminous.

‘Oh shit, are you going out? Have you got a date?’

Tilly laughed. ‘I am going out, yes. You should have called. But it’s not a date. I’m going out with Rachel and her bloke.’

‘The Hells Angel?’

She grinned. ‘Yes! The very same. His name’s Henry. But they’re not real Hells Angels. It’s just a motorcycle club.’

‘Oh, yes, you told me that, I think.’

‘He’s actually very nice.’ She appraised what I was wearing. ‘You’re a bit scruffy but I’m guessing Henry won’t be wearing a suit. You’ll be fine.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You can come with us. I was worried about being a gooseberry. I’m so glad you’ve come to rescue me.’

A horn sounded outside and Tilly said, ‘That’ll be them. Come on.’

‘But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘You can tell me over dinner. Unless it’s something private.’

‘Well . . .’

She looked at me seriously. ‘It’s not . . . your old problem, is it?’

I shook my head quickly. ‘No. I’m fine.’

This wasn’t something I wanted to talk about. Not now, not ever. My sister knew this and I was irritated with her for even alluding to it.

‘OK. So maybe . . .’ I saw the face she always pulled when she was about to say something rude.

‘No,’ I said, cutting her off. ‘I’m not suffering from any sexual problems, I haven’t got an STI, Charlie’s not pregnant.’

‘Oh. I was going to ask if you were going to tell me you’ve proposed to Charlie. She told me that you’re moving in together.’

I stared at her. ‘You’re in touch with Charlie?’

‘Oh yes. She friended me on Facebook. We chat all the time. She’s hilarious. And she’s mad about you. Actually, she must be mad, if she loves you as much as she seems to. She talks about you like you’re some dragon-slaying hero, a cross between Brad Pitt, Mr Darcy and Nelson Mandela.’

‘But . . . Charlie’s not on Facebook,’ I said.

‘Yes she is.’ From outside, Rachel and Henry beeped their car horn again. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go.’

Sitting in the back of Rachel’s converted MPV, I made small talk with Henry, who was a giant of a man, barely able to fit inside the huge vehicle. I was slightly disappointed that he wasn’t wearing a bandanna or a leather jacket. Instead, he wore a checked shirt that looked like it was going to pop open at any minute. He was like the Incredible Hulk with white skin and a ginger beard. When he laughed, which he did frequently, the car shook.

‘Do you normally ride a Harley?’ I asked. ‘Rachel took me on the back of hers. It was terrifying.’ Although, really, I had found it exciting, exhilarating even.

‘I’ll have to take you for a ride sometime – if you think Rachel rides fast . . .’ His laughter boomed and reverberated around the people carrier and he squeezed Rachel’s knee.

‘Not when I’m driving,’ she said, keeping her eyes on the road.

He smiled at her but Rachel’s expression remained unamused. Henry gave me a look that said ‘Women, huh?’ before turning back to the front. I wondered if they would argue about it later, if he would be annoyed that she publically rejected him, if he would see it like that.

I looked back at Tilly.

‘Why would Charlie tell me she wasn’t on Facebook?’

She didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. ‘I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t want you stalking her on there. Watching what she’s up to.’

‘She probably wants to avoid that whole “in a relationship” dilemma,’ Henry said.

I mulled this over. ‘I can understand that she might have felt like that at first. And if she said she didn’t want us to be friends on Facebook because it’s a bit naff or awkward or whatever, that would be cool. But I’m surprised she lied to me about it.’

‘Ah, it’s only a white lie,’ Tilly said.

I got my phone out, went to my Facebook app and found Tilly’s account. Scrolling through her friend list I found Charlie, using her unshortened name, Charlotte. I tried to look at her wall but I was completely blocked from seeing her posts. I felt genuinely hurt that she’d lied to me about it.

‘She never lets me go to her flat, either,’ I said, almost to myself. ‘I feel really worried now. What’s she hiding?’

Henry snorted. ‘Maybe she’s leading a secret life. She’s probably married, with kids. You’re her dirty secret.’

‘Oh yes, you hear about things like that, don’t you?’ Rachel said, pulling in to the car park of the country pub where we were having dinner.

The three of them laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. But this, piled on top of Karen’s death – and everything else – made me feel cold and nauseated.

Before we got out of the MPV I sent Charlie a friend request. I wanted to see what she’d do.

I wasn’t hungry, and picked at my food while the other three laughed and joked. Henry really was a nice bloke, a bit gruff and rude, but funny. Rachel talked to him like he was a naughty child, a role he played with relish. Tilly seemed in excellent spirits too, much better than she had at the turn of the year. I hadn’t seen her so happy for a long time. It turned out she’d found out today that she was being promoted at work and getting a decent pay rise.

‘What’s up, bruv?’ she asked, eyeing the way I was picking at my food. ‘You’re not really worried that Charlie has a secret husband, are you? There’s no sign of one on Facebook. Not that
you’d
know.’

They all started laughing and I said, ‘Karen died.’

The laughter stopped.

‘Karen?’ Tilly said. ‘What, that older woman you had a thing with?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Oh my God, what happened?’

‘I don’t know. I saw her a few weeks ago. I did some work for her. I went round there today because she owed me for the work, and her neighbour told me she was dead. He didn’t know what caused it.’ I rubbed my arms. ‘He also told me some really spooky shit about a dark spirit following me around, causing all my bad luck.’

Henry gave me a serious look. ‘A dark spirit? Really?’

‘Don’t tell me you believe in all that stuff,’ I said.

‘Yeah, I do. Spirits are real. My mum’s a clairvoyant. She talks to them all the time.’

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing, and I couldn’t stop. The three of them – and everyone around our table – stared at me as I doubled over, tears streaming, my stomach convulsing at the image of Henry’s mum, who I pictured as a middle-aged female biker, chatting with ghosts in her kitchen.

Seamlessly, the laughter turned into tears, and instead of laughing, I was weeping, my face in my hands, body shaking, and I felt a broad arm around my shoulders and could feel all the eyes that had been staring at me turning away.

‘Come on, mate,’ Henry said. ‘Let’s go and get some air, eh?’

‘No, it’s fine. I’m just going—’

I dashed off to the gents and locked myself in a cubicle, sitting on the closed toilet lid, letting the last of the tears come. When I’d finished, I blew my nose, left the cubicle and washed my face.