The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) (8 page)

Jason managed to hide his surprise thanks to years of keeping his thoughts to himself. It was the pretty girl from the market, and this time she was smiling. Or rather she had been until she recognised him. He knew what she’d been up to, or rather what he’d stopped her doing, and she obviously knew that he knew.

He decided to make light of it. ‘Hi, there. Finished your shopping, then?’

It was entirely the wrong thing to say, and he could have kicked himself for his big, stupid mouth. She flinched visibly as if he’d slapped her.

Jason, you complete shit
.

Without realising it, Charlie came to his rescue. ‘Have you met before?’

‘I saw her at the market. Looking at Winston’s fabrics, I think?’ Jason sought her eyes, read the gratitude in them. He’d seen that same look in other people before: friendless, exposed, remorseful, yet defiant at the same time. In recent probationers. He wondered if she’d recently been to prison and what had made her come here. Then he wondered what her crime was, and thought from the haunted look in her eyes it was probably something more than theft. Something momentous and life-changing.

Whatever it was, she clearly didn’t want to be reminded of the one she’d almost committed half an hour ago.

‘I was just browsing,’ she explained, falteringly, then her confidence seemed to return. ‘I haven’t been to Shepherd’s Bush in ages, so it was a bit full-on. You run a stall there, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I sell vinyl and CDs. Collectors’ items. Recordings which are difficult to get hold of, that sort of thing. You should come and have a look some time.’

‘Maybe I will.’

She met his stare, and Jason thought perhaps her earlier blip wasn’t a relapse at all and he was losing his ability to read other people. He hoped not.

‘Well, you’d better come and see the room,’ he said. ‘It isn’t much but it’s clean and we’ve given it a fresh coat of paint.’

He spoke in the clipped tones he inadvertently returned to whenever he was on thin ice, and which he knew flagged up visions of boarding school and top universities in his listeners, but he couldn’t help it. He wondered what she made of it, if she found it hard to equate with a person who manned a market stall and ran a shared house for apparent losers. It annoyed him that he should care about her opinion but he did.

As soon as the kitchen door had swung shut behind them, she touched him lightly on the arm. Jason felt as if someone had tasered him and was grateful for the dim lighting in the hallway.

‘Listen, about earlier, I wasn’t planning to, well, you know, take that woman’s wallet,’ she said.

‘That’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself.’

‘You seemed to think I was.’

He shook his head. ‘My mistake. I just didn’t want you to get in trouble, that’s all. You looked like you’d lost your way a little, if that makes any sense.’

‘Like I said, I hadn’t been to the Market in a while.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

He led her up the wide stairs to the first floor, running his hand along the dado rail as he often did. The paint on it was chipped and uneven where it had been painted over countless times, but beneath it the wood was reassuringly solid. The stairs also had a dependable feel to them despite the threadbare carpet, and the water stains on the wallpaper, which appeared here and there, were bone dry because the problem with dampness had been superficial. It was one of the things he loved about this house, that it was solid. Whatever else might happen in life, this old relic would still stand.

Glancing over his shoulder, he was amused to see the new girl do the same, tracing her fingers where his had been.

On the first floor he opened the door to the vacant room which had a view of the street and the houses opposite. He had recently redecorated it in neutral colours, and although it was sparsely furnished with only a bed, a narrow wardrobe, a desk and a chair, he’d tried to make it as bright and welcoming as possible. Catching her expression, it looked as if he’d succeeded. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes had lit up with appreciation.

The window was open, and the pale curtains were billowing in the breeze. Tentatively, she crossed the room to the cast-iron fireplace and, resting her hand on the mantel piece, turned to face him.

‘Very nice,’ she said

‘Interested?’

‘Yes, but er—’

‘But what?’

She bit her lip. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me for some kind of identification? Or references perhaps? I mean, I just walked in from the street. I could be anybody.’

Taken aback, he replied, ‘At some point, I suppose. Why? Do I need to check you out, is that what you’re saying?’

She shook her head. ‘I was just wondering.’

‘I’m not worried about you,’ he said, ‘so long as you understand that the people who live here, apart from myself, have all had trouble with the law and have been to prison. This is a halfway house.’

‘Yes, I got that impression. I should fit right in, then.’

Jason ran his hand through his hair. ‘I’m glad to hear it. Usually we get sent people from the Probation Service, but you’ve beat them to it.’ He closed the door. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know about the room?’

‘Winston.’

‘Ah, that figures. Anyway, let me show you the rest of the house. There’s just the four of us at the moment. Fay’s across the landing from you, and the bathroom is up here as well.’

He opened another door to show her the shared bathroom. This room he wasn’t quite so confident about. It was in dire need of replacement, but he’d been putting it off until he knew where he stood regarding the lease. The toilet had an old-fashioned porcelain cistern with a pull-cord, the claw-footed tub was stained grey-green from lime scale, and one of the brass taps in the basin dripped continuously. He stepped past her and tightened the tap.

‘It needs a firm hand,’ he explained.

‘So I see.’

He heard the laughter in her voice and wished he could explain the situation to her, but decided it could wait until another time. Chances were, she hadn’t heard of his father anyway.

Closing the bathroom door, he said, ‘Charlie has the big room on the ground floor, next to our shower room, I’m in the basement, and Lee, whom you haven’t met yet, is on the top floor. We also have a small spare room for emergencies up there.’

‘Emergencies?’

Her amusement was gone, and she was wary now.

‘People don’t usually stay here for very long. A couple of months on average. Sometimes after they’ve moved out and gone back to their friends and family, things don’t always work out. I let them stay here for a few days until they can sort something else out. I’ve never closed the door on someone who’s come back, not unless he’s given me grief. It can be a shit world out there.’

‘Yes, it can,’ she said. ‘So if I move in, Fay and I’ll be the only two people on this floor together?’

‘Does that bother you? I mean, do you feel uncomfortable sharing a floor, because I could probably persuade Lee to move down. His room isn’t as big as this one, though.’

‘No, no,’ she said quickly.

Too quickly. Alarm bells rang in his head, but she seemed so sweet and so lost that he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

‘It really doesn’t bother me,’ she added as if she’d read his mind. ‘Would it be okay to take a look at her room?’

He shook his head. ‘House rules, I’m afraid. We don’t enter other people’s private space without being invited. Anyone who does will be out by the end of the week. I hope it won’t be a problem for you?’

He could tell from the sudden pink spots in her cheeks that she’d caught his warning. It was the same expression she’d worn at the market, when she’d been furious with him. Jason experienced a toe-curling and gut-churning sensation of having kicked someone who was already down.

‘I was just curious,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t going to invade her privacy. I’d hate it if someone invaded mine.’

He assessed her for a moment. ‘Obviously you’ve got principles. Why do I have this feeling you haven’t been in prison?’

‘Why would I want to live in a halfway house if I hadn’t?’ she retorted.

‘You tell me. Usually principles are some of the first things people put on hold when they’re locked up. They can be difficult to find again.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my principles.’

‘Okay, fine, no need to get on your high horse. There’s just one other thing. If you don’t mind me asking, what was your crime?’

‘
My
crime?’

Her eyes flew to his and suddenly there was such a fiendish rage in them, a deeper and older rage different from the one before, that he almost stepped back in alarm. Then her shoulders slumped.

‘Let’s just say someone died who shouldn’t have,’ she said softly.

‘Who?’

For a moment she stared at a point somewhere over his shoulder. He feared this was her way of saying she wasn’t going to answer his question, and if she didn’t, he couldn’t allow her to have the room, simple as that.

Which would be a crying shame.

Finally she said, ‘A child.’

‘A child?’ he repeated and sent her a startled look.

It was the first thing which had sprung to mind because there was a certain, odd truth to it – a part of her
had
died that day and her childhood with it – but she could see now that perhaps it hadn’t been the smartest thing to say. Everyone hated child killers, and rightly so. However, it was too late to take it back. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe her now.

She found herself torn. She rarely went out of her way to make people like her, would often push them away because it was easier that way, and she’d prefer Jason’s condemnation to him knowing the real reason she was here. At the same time the thought of being condemned by someone who seemed so tolerant of others was almost unbearable. Dammit, she wanted him to like her.

When he said nothing, just continued to stare at her, she turned away and headed down the stairs. Talk about messing up. Story of my life, she thought.

He caught her arm, the lightest of touches. ‘Was it an accident?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, surprised he even bothered with her.

Something must have made him think she wasn’t the devil incarnate. He smiled suddenly, and she basked in the glory of that smile like a sun-starved tourist. It transformed his face, lit up the intensely blue eyes, and the little goatee she’d scoffed at so rudely no longer looked like a gravy stain, but instead soft and beguiling, inviting her to trace it with her finger. She stopped before she made another mistake.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘There’ll be time enough to talk about that another day. Now for the boring bit. The rent money covers bills and council tax. I don’t charge much because most of my tenants are on benefits of some kind. I’m not making a profit, but that’s not why I do it anyway.’

They had reached the bottom of the stairs and Jason pushed open the door to the kitchen.

‘Why
do
you do it?’ she asked.

The television was blaring and Fay was grinding coffee beans. Helen didn’t quite hear his answer but it sounded like ‘indulgence’, which puzzled her because he didn’t seem like the self-indulgent type.

‘So what do you think?’

Coffee ready, Jason put mugs on the table with a carton of milk and a sugar bowl. Helen counted five cups, so they obviously expected her to stay for coffee whether she moved in or not. As she wondered about the last mug, she caught the eyes of the woman who’d made her life a misery. Fay was smiling.

One day you won’t be smiling like that.

‘I like it,’ she replied to Jason’s question.

‘Fantastic,’ said Charlie. ‘We could do with another woman in the house.’ She reached for the coffee pot, sloshed coffee into four mugs, then passed them around. There seemed to be a special unity between the three of them, the way they would follow up on each other’s actions. It was like a strange, modern dance, beautifully choreographed, and Helen wondered if she’d ever find that.

The last mug was still standing empty in the centre of the table. As if on cue, the kitchen door banged open and a young man came in. He was lanky with mocha skin and almond-shaped brown eyes framed by thick dark lashes, and his black hair was arranged in thin plaits running across his scalp in a sideways pattern. He wore a tight-fitting T-shirt, low slung hipster jeans, and a chunky silver chain around his neck, and looked like a cover model for a hip hop fashion magazine.

She wasn’t the only one affected by his presence. Charlie had gone rigid, but it was hard to say whether this was due to attraction or dislike.

‘This is Lee,’ said Jason. ‘He lives on the top floor. Lee, Helen’s going to move in across from Fay.’

Lee filled the last mug, stirring in milk and sugar. ‘C-cool,’ he stuttered and left the room.

‘He doesn’t say much,’ Jason explained.

Charlie scowled. ‘That’s because he has nothing to say for himself.’

Definitely dislike.

‘Charlie,’ Jason warned.

Charlie ignored him. ‘He’s nasty. He mugged some old lady and kicked her in the stomach when she was too terrified to let go off her handbag. I just think Helen ought to know before she moves in that Lee’s done time for violence.’

Helen’s eyes cut to Fay, but Fay was staring at her mug. She then sent Jason a questioning look, wondering if she’d been mad to agree to stay. The thought of a mugger in the house didn’t bother her as much as the idea of having walked in on someone else’s argument.

Jason seemed to pick up on her concern. ‘Don’t worry, Lee’s harmless. You know what I’m trying to do here, Charlie. I don’t judge based on the past, but on what people do now and what they contribute.’

‘He doesn’t contribute anything. The old dear died of fright. You talk to her family about c-c-contribution,’ she mocked.

Jason held his ground. ‘It’s a tough one to swallow, but he’s got to live somewhere. I’d rather it was me making sure he sees his social worker than no one doing it. Besides,’ he added, ‘I think everyone deserves a second chance.’

Chapter Six

‘Do you have a lot of stuff to bring?’ Jason asked when Helen was about to leave. ‘I have a small van if you need transport.’