Live to Tell (41 page)

He stood next to the front door when the time came to leave.

“Thank you for last night,” I said. “I really needed you.”

He stroked the back of my ear. “Can I see you tonight?”

I shook my head. There were no words that could provide an adequate explanation, so I said nothing. This time he didn’t argue or try to dissuade me. We kissed each other for several moments as if we both knew it was for the last time.

“You were right,” he said. “You ’ave given me a special night to remember.” He sighed. “Well, if you change your mind, about the skiing, I mean, or anything, you know how to reach me. Day or night.”

Outside in the Mews he saw the iron poker, still lying on the cobbles. He bent over, picked it up and handed it to me. It underlined the shock and fear that had overcome me the night before and brought me back to my reality.

He walked to his car and then stood looking at me. Neither of us smiled and as he drove away, Henry ran back in. I closed the door behind us.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 

“You got to listen to me. You got to get away. I told you. Your fancy boyfriend with the fancy car won’t save you. Go!”

“Who are you,” I cried. “How do you know me?” The line went dead and I replaced the receiver. The last words chilled me to the core. This man saw Barry. There was no other explanation. When was it? I struggled to count the days. What’s wrong with me? Let me think back. It was at least six nights since he stayed here with me. Perhaps he saw him leave. Oh God what can I do?

Last night, and on the three nights earlier, there were other calls—silent ones. I couldn’t decide whether to confront the caller or ignore him completely. I knew it would be easier decided than done. I was also not clear in my mind if the same person was responsible for all of them. Of one thing I was certain. He knew all about me and what I had done. It made the only sense.

I sat in my kitchen drinking hot chocolate with Henry on my knee, absorbing whatever comfort I could on my own. He stretched out his paws. Another long, lonely evening stretched ahead. It was alright trying to be brave but the calls were freaking me out. I must get that CCTV system looked at, I thought. Bet it’s out of its warranty. Damn, more expense and time off work.

The trouble was, I could hardly ignore my land-line phone because my parents and aunt used it. Being, as they say ‘
frugal
Yorkshire
folk’,
they would not call my ‘expensive’ cell phone unless there was no other choice. So I was left trying to be as alert to danger as I could while appearing to be as normal as possible.

I hadn’t seen Aunt Jess since her mysterious dash into hospital, but as she only stayed there two days, it couldn’t be anything serious, certainly not serious by my standards. I had cornered the market in serious. From now on I’ll keep all my blinds and curtains closed, I thought—all the time.

The following afternoon I was sitting at my office computer writing a report when my father put his head around the door. Since the night of the phone call, the one Barry intercepted, Dad was decidedly frosty to me. Now he had a meek expression.

“Hello,” he said. “Can I come in? Can you spare a poor old man a few minutes of your time?”

Without smiling, I motioned him to sit down. As Dad just told me to move on emotionally, his attitude to my friendship with Barry was at the least hypocritical but I didn’t say anything. The trouble was whatever he might say, in Dad’s eyes, no one could compete with Danny. He knew Barry had been in my life for a long time, and I wondered if he guessed that I slept with him. I was sure that despite my silence in the matter, the situation must be pretty transparent. But it
was
only twice, I thought.

“First,” he said, “your mum and I have been talking. And whoever you want to see is up to you. I know I’ve been a bit grumpy but all of your friends, any of them that is, are welcome. If they’re good enough for you, they’re good enough for us. We just want you to be happy.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.”

I thought about Barry. Of course I wasn’t “seeing” him, in the way my father meant, but he was in my thoughts—and his son. I had been imagining the sort of conversations I might have with the boy. I even imagined our spending time doing things together. Dwelling on someone else’s child, one whom I had never met, did not feel like a healthy situation to be in.

“Right, if you say so,” he said. “Well secondly, I’ve got a bit of bad news. Your aunt has been less than open with us, probably thought if she ignored the situation it would go away. The truth is she’s gone back into hospital. She’s in an oncology unit at The Royal Free.”

“Cancer?” I stared at him, completely stunned by his news.

This time my aunt was to stay in hospital for four days. Mum said she was having more tests; the growth might not be malignant. Since Danny’s death I did not feel I could afford to be optimistic, so I feared the worst. She made excuses not to see me, kept saying she was about to go home and, after six days, I decided to take matters into my own hands and visit her, welcome or not.

The nearest London Underground station to The Royal Free Hospital was Belsize Park station on Haverstock Hill; itself the southern gateway to Hampstead. Although Hampstead was only about a mile-and-a-half from Maida Vale, tribal loyalties ran deep. Hampstead had a cachet about it that gave it a superior air; somewhere to boast about living. Leafy avenues separated large Edwardian villas, reminding me of their poor relations in West Kensington that I visited as a teenager. The ones in West Ken impressed me, so yes, Hampstead was definitely the place to be.

Leaving Belsize Park station in the dying embers of the evening sunset, I walked up the hill. Near the summit I turned right and found myself looking down a narrow road to the hospital spread before me. The concrete and glass edifice, rebuilt across fifteen floors in the nineteen sixties, was a blaze of light. It was a warm and welcoming sight. Despite being in one of the wealthiest boroughs in London, The Royal Free started life as a hospital for the poor long before the National Health Service absorbed it. I walked in the direction of the street level entrance but suddenly overcome by fear of what might await me, I hesitated. Farther down the road were some small shops and an inviting coffee bar. I dashed past the hospital entrance, went into the cafe and ordered a large drinking chocolate topped with whipped cream. Half-an-hour later I summoned up the courage to go to my aunt.

In bed she was cocooned in a gossamer pink bed jacket. She looked very frail and I realised how much thinner she was. She seemed to be asleep, so I sat down beside her and picked up a magazine to read while I waited. It must have been the noise of the pages turning because she opened her eyes and shook herself.

“Oh, it’s you. I didn’t know you were coming. Why didn’t you say?”

“Because if I had, you would have found umpteen excuses why I shouldn’t.” I leaned over and gently kissed her. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit woosy but I’ll be alright. Here, let me sit up.”

I helped lift her shoulders and was shocked how little she seemed to weigh. Despite everything, it was nice sitting quietly chatting and I felt ashamed that I spent so little time with her.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” she said. “I’ve got a very nice doctor. Very nice. I think you’ll like him. I told him you were on your own.” She smiled, expectantly, her eyes bright.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” I mustn’t shout at her here but really, I thought. Why is my entire family hell bent on match-making? “It’s very sweet of you to worry about me but I really don’t want to get involved again. Please. Not even with your very nice doctor.”

“You don’t have to “get involved” as you put it,” she said grasping my hand, but you can be friends can’t you? You will like him, I promise. Here have some chocolate. Your mum brought it but it’s too much for me.”

At eight o’clock I kissed her again and left. Even though I had “a nice doctor” to avoid now, as well as everyone else, I promised I would return the next evening. There was a bus stop nearby where buses left for Kilburn and I knew I could easily get home from there. Home to more phone calls no doubt, I thought with a sick feeling.

The following morning was warm and fine but Ben was having a bad day. In the Trafalgar Square office he shared with Kevin Leighton, the phone rang. He picked up the receiver, and for a second thought no one was at the other end of the line. Then a whispered voice spoke to him.

“They say you’re the one. The man for the job.”

“Er… right.” Ben looked across the desk at Kevin and pulled a face.

“You’ve got to stop him,” the disembodied voice continued. “I tried to warn her but she takes no notice.”

“Right. Well, I’ll help, if I can. What’s your name?”

He pulled a message pad across the desk. There was a pause and the line went dead. Ben frowned.

“Why do I always get them? You never seem to get phone calls from weirdos.”

Kevin smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “They’ve obviously heard about your sympathetic nature, old man. Coming to lunch? It’s your turn to pay.”

By chance the next morning the two men arrived at the office together. It was eight thirty and a beautiful sunny day. As they walked in, Heather bustled in after them, her arms full of papers.

“Someone rang you, Sir, ten minutes ago but he wouldn’t leave a name. Would you like some coffee?”

Ben smiled warmly at her. “Thanks, Heather. That would be lovely.”

She turned to Kevin. “What about you Sir? Coffee?”

When she left the room Kevin said, “What a delightful girl. Is she attached?”

Before Ben could respond his phone rang. “Jacobs here,” he said.

“I’m at my wit’s end. You gotta do something. She don’t take no notice of me. I thought you were the man.”

Ben groaned inwardly. He could do without this sort of call so early into his day. He decided to try a different approach. “Who is it you are concerned about? In what way can I help?”

“Jesus! Don’t I keep telling you? I don’t know her name. Oh for fuck’s sake!”

The man rang off and Ben sighed. Kevin pulled a face and shook his head.