Hidden Kiss (Love Is The Law 2) (17 page)

"That makes you sound like the police," Turner
said. "And perhaps this is something we ought to leave to the police, you
know?"

Riggers looked incredulous. "You are joking me, right?
Pass it on to the feds who can't find their arse with both hands and a
map?"

"It's their job."

"I don't talk to the police. You don't talk to the
police. Christ, Turner, what are you?"

"A reformed man. Like you."

"Fuck off."

Turner spread his hands wide to the open air, trying to
deflect Riggers' rising anger. "Listen, listen to me, Riggers. You've just
told me you've changed, yeah? And look. I believe you. If I didn't, I wouldn't
even suggest we go to the authorities, would I?"

"You just want me to prove to you that I've
changed."

Turner bit back his retort. He wanted to say
no, prove it
to Elaine, to the boys.
But he swallowed it down. It was below the belt.
Instead he just maintained eye contact and waited for Riggers to see sense.

Riggers tipped his head back and blew out a long sigh into
the air.

"Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck," he said to Turner, and
Turner knew he'd won.

"Come on, then."

Riggers nodded to his car. "Get in."

They didn't speak another word until they pulled up in a car
park a little way from the police station, and Riggers switched the engine off,
but remained hanging on tightly to the steering wheel.

"I know," Turner said, almost laughing. "I
know. I've never walked into one of these places voluntarily, either."

* * * *

Emily slammed her flat door closed and leaned back against
it, finally able to relax now she was at home once more. Nothing was different
- except everything. Except herself and her world and her life.

She put her right hand out and placed it on the cool
magnolia-coloured wall, for a moment indulging in sentimental imaginings of
psychic phenomena. As if she could communicate with her flat, her building, her
peace.

Then she laughed at herself and pushed forwards through the
hallway and into the familiar messy living room. Discarded shoes lurked around
the sofa. A pile of books made a tower, topped off by an old cup of tea,
teetering by the desk. She dropped her bag and moved through to the kitchen.
The milk in the fridge was fine, and she put the kettle on. While it came to
the boil, she went back through and saw that there was a missed call on the
landline.

It wasn't Turner, and she huffed in disappointment and
relief, all at the same time. Then she felt guilty. It was Kayleigh, once her
closest friend, and ex-flatmate. Now she lived and worked in Belgium, and Emily
had not put any effort into maintaining their friendship.

In the kitchen, the kettle clicked off in a cloud of steam
that curled out into the main room. Emily stood frozen by the phone, holding
the handset, hesitating before lifting it to her ear and replaying the message.

Kayleigh was perky and friendly, but there was an
undercurrent of something - uncertainty, perhaps, and sadness.

"Hi Ems, long time no… speak. Just wondering how you
were. If you were okay. We haven't been in touch for so long. I did email but
perhaps you didn't get it. You've been quiet online, not that I'm stalking you
on social media aha ha ha. Anyway. Look. We should catch up. Give me a call
when you're free." A pause. "Please." And she hung up.

Emily pressed the black plastic to her chest and her eyes
unfocused. They'd had such good times. Then Kayleigh had moved on, moved up in
her career, grasped life and actually left the country.

Yeah, I really was jealous,
Emily thought.
I'm such
a cow. And yet, I have no reason to be jealous. I just… I dunno. What? Thought
that my friend's progress and success somehow made my own life look crap in
comparison? Who was ever judging that, except me?

Emily pressed the phone back onto the cradle and went
through to finish making her cup of tea. She took it through to the bathroom.
She wanted to sink into deep, foamy water and scrub off the smell of the fire
and the hospital, and she knew she would think better in the bath, too.

She got in while the taps were still running, enjoying the
sensation of getting more and more weightless as the bath filled up. Things
were coming together in her mind at last, and she could now look back on the
past few weeks - no, the past year, since meeting Turner - and see how it
fitted together.

He was right. She hated journalism.
Hated it!
She
giggled to herself and the giggle stretched into laughter, into a sudden whoop.
The truth of it slapped her, and she splashed her hands in the water, paddling
up and down to make a wave. Acknowledging it brought release and relief, like
removing a heavy vest she'd been wearing for years.

And she had skills she could use in charity work instead.
That's what fired her up. She'd been distracted, thinking she wanted to write
about social issues. No, she wanted to deal with social issues, and that was a
different thing entirely! How had she not seen that before?

I suppose I always thought that once you settled on a
career after college or university, you had to stick with it. Only the
dedicated got anywhere. But no - Turner's shown me you can still change.
Kayleigh did too, and maybe that's why…

That's why I've been such a shitty friend.

And after all that, Kayleigh was still extending the hand of
friendship. Shamed, and spurred to make things better, Emily finished off in
the bath. Once dressed in comfortable jeans and a sweater, she sat at her desk
and pulled her writing pad out of a drawer.

She wrote, and wrote, spilling out her thoughts and
confessions and emotions. It started out as a letter of apology and renewal to
Kayleigh but she knew by the fourth page that she would never send it. But she
continued, her pen swooping over the paper. Her thoughts came so fast she
started scattering journalistic shorthand into it. It didn't matter about
legibility anymore; she was writing an explanation to herself, of herself, and
creating a blueprint for her future, too.

Once finished, she sat back and stacked the papers carefully.
Without even reading them back, she pushed them to one side, and began a new
letter to Kayleigh. This one was shorter, and to the point.

Dear Kayleigh

Thank you for your phone call. I missed it because I was
in hospital - don't panic! There was a fire, arson, and Turner rescued me. I
stopped overnight in hospital but no-one was injured seriously. It's a long
story and I will phone you soon and tell you everything. It wasn't at my flat.

Turner and I have split up. I lied to him. There was lots
of stuff I didn't tell him. My excuse, which is not good enough, is that I
didn't know what I wasn't telling him. I know that sounds mad. I need to sort
my own life out before I can be with someone else.

I am giving up pretending to be a journalist. It was
bollocks. I am temping at a homeless charity and that's what I'm going to do
from now on. I was trying to live up to some stupid self-imposed image of what
a successful mid-twenties career woman looks like.

I have not kept in touch with you because I found it
difficult. Me, not you. I really regret it. You are a good friend and I'd be
mad to lose our friendship.

I'm in debt. My car was repossessed. I am not telling you
to get sympathy! Just that, I want to come and see you, but it will be a little
while before I have saved up.

I will ring. I promise. I might have even rung you before
you get this letter and then it will all sound quite odd…

She signed it off and shoved it into an envelope. She'd post
it today. She didn't even consider putting it into an email - she needed a day
or two's grace, and she knew Kayleigh loved getting letters. It was a small way
of showing her old friend that she knew her preferences, and she'd put the
effort in to make her smile.

* * * *

She took the long way to the post box. On the way back, she
saw a familiar figure approaching her apartment block from the other direction.
She recognised Turner at the same moment that he saw her, and he raised a hand
in greeting, slowing to wait for her at the entrance.

Emily felt a little ill but she knew this had to be faced.
She walked briskly, and managed a smile as she got close enough to talk to him.
"Hi there. I was going to call you in a bit."

"It's okay. I was out and about, and I thought I'd call
by."

"Been anywhere interesting?"

"The police."

"Oh."

They stood for a moment, facing each other, and a woman with
a push chair grumbled and complained. Emily jumped to one side to let her pass.
"Uh, okay. About the fire…?"

"Yes, of course." He grinned at her suddenly, his
face lighting up with cheekiness. "What else? I went to them. They didn't
come for me."

"Come on. Can we sit?" Emily nodded to a bench
that was pocked with graffiti by some trees at the edge of the car park. Turner
nodded and followed her. Sitting side by side was easier to talk. Emily twisted
her hands together between her knees, and said, "So, first of all, how are
the boys? Are they out of hospital today, do you know?"

"Yes. They're at my mum's, with Elaine. I've just been
to the house and I saw Riggers, and I told him about your mate Joel."

"He's not my mate."

"Yes, well. Anyway. So we went to the police about it.
They'll probably come and talk to you at some point."

"Right. Did they think it might be Joel?"

"They gave no clue. It was like talking to a wall. A
wall in a uniform."

"I think it was him."

"We'll see. How did he know where Riggers lived?"

Emily rubbed her hands again. "I don't know. Followed
him, maybe?"

"Are you cold?" Turner asked.

"No. Just… plucking up courage to tell you stuff."

"Oh god." Turner shook his head, and laughed with
a sigh. "What now? What else?"

She shrugged, accepting the jibe as her due. "I think
you already know all this. That I messed this relationship up because I've been
trying to be what I'm not. I've got it, now. I'm staying in social work. I'm
going to sort it all out. I really want to stay friends with you, but that's
going to be hard."

"We can try…"

"I will, but not yet. There's one more thing, Turner. I
doubt I should say this. Funny, really. So much I should have said, and didn't.
And this one thing, that I ought to keep to myself… I am going to say it. I
care for you. More than anyone I've ever met. More than anything. A proper,
deep feeling. It hurts me that I care for you so much. I think I love
you."

She clenched her hands tightly and waited for the sky to
fall.

Turner stared out across the car park. He fixed his
attention on a smart looking Subaru.
I wouldn't have chosen those rims
myself, he thought idly. There's bling, and then there's fucking awful.

He felt Emily shift slightly on the bench. He kept his gaze
away from her, and after a while, probed his thoughts, feeling out the right
words for the feelings that were confusing him.

"I am torn," he said, hesitantly. She'd been
honest, and he'd demanded no less of her. Now it was his turn. "Because
you've let me down more than once, and I don't want to keep going through that.
I care about you, Emily, probably too much. So each time you do this to me,
it's like a knife in my guts."

He stopped, and waited, but she didn't speak, didn't answer
or argue or try to justify anything. He heard her stifle a sigh, so he
continued.

"Emily, what about your brother?"

She had to reply to that. "I don't know. He's angry.
But he can't actually stop me, and he can't actually do anything. He's all
threats."

"I don't want to be a rift in your family. Family's
important."

"I know. But I don't think it's anything we can't work
out. He will come round."

"If it came to a choice…"

"I would choose you," she blurted out in a rush,
half-turning on the bench, so that her knees were slanted towards him. He
looked to his side, finally letting his gaze rest on her.

"Do you mean that? It's a big ask."

"I do mean it. But it won't come to that."

Turner pursed his lips but he had to accept it. "Okay
then. About us…" He sighed.

"I'm not asking for another chance," she said,
very quietly. "I know it's too much. I just had to tell you how I
felt."

Turner was surprised as she got to her feet, knitting her
fingers together tightly in front of herself like a shield. "Anyway. Thank
you. For everything. I can't ever repay you. And please stay in touch. Your
mum… Elaine… Kyle and Liam… I'm going to miss them, too, you know."

Turner realised that she was trying not to cry, and he got
to his feet, but he was too late as she turned away and began to walk towards
the entrance to the block of flats. He reached out his hand but stayed rooted
to one place, and slowly let his hand drop as she reached the doorway and
buzzed herself in and disappeared without a glance behind.

Turner knew then what he had to do. He headed into town.

* * * *

Emily took the stairs back up to her flat. She felt as if
she were in a dream, almost numb and floaty.

Tiny details seemed large and important. She noticed the
scuffmarks on the skirting boards in her hallway and the yellow marks on the
white plastic light switches. She wandered into her main room and blinked,
seeing at last the chaos that had built up over the past months. The past year,
in fact. She'd never been keen on housework and just performed the bare minimum
to ensure it wasn't actually a health hazard.

But behind the shelves and under the sofa and hidden by
piles of books, she knew there was a year of dirt lurking.