Live to Tell (37 page)

“Back off. I’m an officer in the Army. I want you to call the police now. These little blighters tried to rob me but they got more than they bargained for.”

“You call the police, Harry. I’ll take one of these off his hands. Come ’ere you bastard. This is what we call a citizen’s arrest.” The man grabbed the left arm of one of the boys and twisted it behind his back. “I’m surprised they try this sort of thing around here,” he said, “right opposite the Drill Hall. There’s always somebody coming or going. Though, I expect you know that.”

“No,” said Ben. “I’m new to the area. In fact I only flew in, a few hours ago. But thanks for your help.”

“Police are on their way, Sir,” the other man said.

Ben looked across the road and realised the red brick building he was facing was a Territorial Army Centre whose wall bore a plaque announcing the presence of the University of London Officer Training Corps. Well, well, he thought. From the number of badges on the wall it must have been here quite a long time. Wonder if that’s what first brought Guy here?

An hour later after the police had arrested his assailants, Ben insisted on buying his two companions, who were instructors at the centre, a drink. They went back to the pub he visited earlier. Well my return to the UK certainly has gone with a bang, he thought. Came close to losing my grandfather’s watch and maiming a couple of teenagers. Wonder what’s in store for me next? No doubt, tomorrow I’ll find out.

“Goodnight, Mrs Powell. I’m off now.” Angela called to me from the door to my office.

“Bye, dear,” I responded. “Have a nice evening.”

“I will. It’s Bingo tonight with my mum and sister. We play every Tuesday as regular as clockwork. Of course it’s really just a chance to catch up. It’s so much nicer since Mum moved here from Wales. We see a lot more of her now.”

I smiled, waved goodbye and returned to my work. It was now four months since I killed that creature and dumped his body in Epping Forest and still no retribution came. I seemed to spend my life looking over my shoulder, waiting.

I hung around at work until seven fifteen after everyone else had left. Outside, the October night was pierced by a million lights. Gold and amber neon illuminated the otherwise dark streets and the towering edifice of St. Paul’s Cathedral was lit by flood light. Sir Christopher Wren, the church’s architect, would have been amazed at his work being so displayed. I gazed from my window in awe but, despite feeling privileged to be so close to the mighty cathedral, I felt excluded and lonely.

Earlier I decided to look on the Internet at old Essex newspaper stories from four months ago that could contain a reference to my crime. The strange silence was spooking me more than I liked to admit. A week earlier it was my birthday. I didn’t feel like celebrating and felt guilty that my colleagues’ efforts to encourage me fell on stony ground. When Dad tried to jolly me along, I told him that I would take him and Mum out to dinner. I knew he was worried about me again but, trying to be artificially cheerful was a step too far.

After half-an-hour of searching I gave up and closed down for the day. For want of any intelligence, my evasion technique was still carefully in place. Instead of my usual route, I took a fifteen minute bus ride through equally well lit streets to Oxford Circus station. There I caught a Bakerloo line train for the final leg of my journey home. It was a damp evening and the buses and trains seemed even more crowded than usual. I didn’t think that I was being tailed but was still keen not to establish a predictable pattern.

I decided to leave the train at Warwick Avenue station and take the longer walk to the house in Maida Vale. Away from the city lights, the night was dark and clouds obscured the moon. Ugh, just look at that rain. I’m bound to get wet tonight, I thought. Hope we’re not going to have a wet winter.

The rain wasn’t heavy—but to keep dry—I still had to use my umbrella, which at the end of a long day was almost the last straw. I liked a clear view of who was around me. Perhaps I ought to take up some kind of self-defence class, I thought. Then I might not feel so vulnerable. I trudged along in shoes more suited to sitting at a desk than to going on hikes. I wish I had planned ahead. Then I would keep trainers in my office for these occasions. The trouble was, my brain wasn’t capable of such rational thoughts. Feeling cold and weary, I tried to avoid the puddles. Can I really cope with much more of this, I wondered.

I made my way down a street that passed a large public house. The pavement in front of it had an iron railing put there to protect people from the road. Two men wearing plain dark suits came out of the swing doors of the building and paused for a moment. Then they clapped each other around the shoulders before separating. One walked off brusquely but the other stood with head bowed leaning against the rail, staring at the water that was beginning to form in the gutter below. I felt alarmed at the sight.

“Barry?”

He looked up, hesitated and smiled. “Babe, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, but how are you? Is everything alright?”

“Sort of. My Nan’s died. We ’ad the funeral today.”

“Oh, Barry, that’s awful for you. I’m so sorry.” I reached him and placed my hand in his.

“Yeah, she was a good old stick. We got on pretty well. But it’s my boy. He wasn’t allowed to come and I never get to take him fishing neither. I told you I was divorced, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me you had children.”

“Well it’s not much of a chat-up line is it? Anyway, his mother wouldn’t let him come to the funeral. When I rang her, she didn’t even want me to see ’im to tell him the news. He thought the world of my Nan. They used to gang up on the rest of us. She thought I should just talk to ’im over the phone. I ’ad to talk to ’im face to face, didn’t I? He cried when I told him she’d died.” He paused for a minute, contemplating the puddles. “He’s a great kid. Everybody else was there and my cousin’s kids are younger than him, but they came. Family’s important, isn’t it?”

“I am sorry. I don’t know what to say. How old is he?”

“He was nine in March, but he ain’t been with me since he was three.”

If Danny had lived, I could be the parent of a nine year old child as well, I thought. Maybe have two or three children even. “Would you like to come home for a cup of tea,” I asked. “It’s not far from here. But you know that. Sorry.”

In answer, he put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed it gently and we set off. I tried to hold my umbrella aloft but probably tired of ducking and avoiding the spokes, he took it from me and held it over us both.

So there we were despite my resolution, facing each other again over the kitchen table. I tried to smile encouragingly.

“How are you feeling now?”

“I’ll survive. It’s him I worry about. I’m only allowed to have him once a month and by the time he’s seen my parents and had a meal, it’s time to take him back to his Mum. I want to take him to “footie” matches and stuff like that, but there’s never enough time. And there’s a good karate club near me he could join. But it’s no good if you only go once a month. Oh, fuck it. It really pisses me off.”

Perhaps that’s what
I
need, I thought. Then I wondered if I really meant the class or to accompany the two of them there, together. I reached out across the table and held his hand for a moment.

“I did manage to get to teach him to swim, but I got accused by my ex of trying to drown him. If we go to the pool, I have to hope he won’t say anything to her about it when he gets home and I have to keep his kit at my place. She’s got this thing about water.”

“I’m not a very good swimmer. I was always worried about getting my hair wet.”

His eyes widened and he looked as if he was going to say something but he changed his mind.

“And I don’t know what to suggest about your little boy,” I said. “I haven’t had a child and don’t really know much about them. Perhaps you could make up with his mother? Get back together again, I mean? Then you could see him all the time.”

“No. It wouldn’t work. It’s ’im I want not ’er. It really tears me up, having to give him back all the time. You know I run a company—manage a workforce—but I’m not allowed to make any decisions about my own child’s welfare.”

I sighed and bit my lip. “You say you only see him once a month. That seems very harsh to me. Couldn’t you go back to court about that? Ask for more access?”

He shrugged. “The fuss she made, I’m lucky to see him at all.”

Oh God, I thought. If there was ever any doubt about the two of us, that settled it. Consorting with a killer would seriously ruin his chances of extending his visitation rights, probably for good. And, I wonder what he did to antagonise her so much. Looking at him sitting there, it wasn’t hard to guess. He’s so lovely, I thought. He probably gave her a load of grief and anxious nights. I was unable to think of anything helpful to say and he looked so dejected. I stood up and walked around the table, put my arms around him and gave him a long hug. He closed his eyes and patted my arm.

I sat back down again and said, “You know, I love my dad very much but if I couldn’t see him, I wouldn’t stop loving him. I might even love him more. I know your son’s only young now, but in a few years he’ll be a teenager, then no-one will be able to stop him seeing you, will they?”

“I don’t know. I hope you’re right.” He compressed his lips and sat quietly for a minute. Then he sighed and stood up.

“I’d better be off. Thanks for the tea. And thanks for the hug. I needed that.” He went to find his jacket. Then he turned back. He paused and stared at me. “I want a fuck. What about you?”

My heart sank. “Barry,” I began and looked down. “I’m sorry. I’m not on the pill. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“And I don’t suppose you’re the sort of girl who keeps a handy stash of morning after pills stowed in the kitchen cupboard, like most of the women I meet?”

I shook my head. He sighed and paused for a moment. Then his eyes lit up. He picked up his jacket and found his wallet. From inside he extracted a small blue envelope, which he held up in the air. “How about these? Will these do?”

I hesitated then whispered, “I er… Yes, Okay.” Oh, I hope I’m not making a terrible mistake, I thought.

Taking his hand, I led him up the stairs to my bedroom. At the top, he closed the door behind us and I went over to the window and pulled down the blinds. Although the “Dutch” house was still empty, I didn’t want anyone looking in. I turned to face him but to my surprise he had already removed most of his clothes and stood before me wearing only his shirt.

“Are you afraid I’ll change my mind,” I asked quietly and went to him.

He shook his head. “I hope not. If I had to leave now, I’d have a job stuffing this lot back inside my pants.” He frowned and tried to release the cuffs on his shirtsleeves.

“Er, can you give me a hand with these… er… things?” He indicated the sleeves. “I don’t know why I don’t throw this shirt away. Trouble is it’s the only white one I’ve got. I wear it for funerals but we don’t ’ave too many of them, thank God. I always forget how tight these cuff buttons are. My mum had to do them up for me in the church this morning.”

I half expected him to add “fucking things”, but he restrained himself. Patiently, he held out his arms to me, fingers outstretched, while I struggled to prise the buttons away from their button-holes

“You need smaller buttons,” I said as they finally sprang free.

“Thanks, Babe.” He kissed the side of my mouth.

“You’re a big boy now, you know. You can afford to buy a new one.”

I began to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt but thankfully they were quite normal. Halfway down I stopped and we looked at each other. The electricity between us was becoming unbearable.

“I love you, Mrs Powell. Will you marry me?”

“Certainly not,” I said. “And, no you don’t.” But secretly I felt elated that he said it and undid the rest.

It was years now since I stood before a naked man but I felt no embarrassment. Being with him felt perfect, as if it were meant to be.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said.