The Last Winter of Dani Lancing: A Novel (19 page)

“So will you come with me tomorrow?” she asks Tom.

“Of course. I’ll always be there when you need me.”

“Thank you,” she says as she takes his hand and squeezes it.

The appointment was made through rape crisis to make sure her parents would not find out the truth.

When they first arrive at the clinic they are led into a private room. The nurse asks Dani to come in alone but she refuses, wanting Tom to be allowed in. The nurse eyes him with distrust. She obviously wants to make sure this is not coerced; she assumes Tom is the father … father? Hardly a father. Inseminator, perhaps?

Tom blushes under her gaze. He is not the man who has done this—but inside, to his shame, he can’t help but think that he would give anything to have been the one who had begun a life inside Danielle Lancing. And he hopes that one day he will, when they are married.

After Dani gives her details she’s examined. This time Tom stays the other side of the curtain. Then they are both asked to wait.

They sit with four other pregnant teens—two of them are obviously with their mothers, all tearful. One teen sits alone, her back rigid, her head held high. The last has fourteen-month-old twins, who play with Legos on the floor. She looks like the devil is at her heels.

They wait for two hours until Dani is called. She smiles weakly at Tom when finally it’s her turn.

“I’ll be here when you come round,” he says.

“I know you will. You’re my Galahad,” and she kisses him on the cheek. There is no passion, but for Tom it’s the best kiss of his life: there will never be another to beat it. Then she turns and follows the nurse.

An hour later he’s called to see her in the recovery room. She sits up in bed wearing one of those awful gowns that no one can be glamorous in. Dani sits drinking tea that is so sweet it makes her grimace with every sip. She looks incredibly pale. Tom thinks her more beautiful than anything he has ever seen.

“I can go any time. I just need to get my clothes on.”

He nods. “I’ll go and call a cab.”

“I can get the bus.”

He shakes his head, taking charge, possibly for the first time in his life.

“No. You get dressed and I’ll get a cab.”

She holds on to his arm as they walk down the front steps. The cab sits there, the diesel engine chugging, ticking the clock round. Tom had raided his room—the large Roses chocolate jar and his Star Wars pencil case had been full of change. Now about thirty pounds in coins weighs down his backpack. He hopes the cabby won’t make a scene about being paid in shrapnel.

They get inside and Tom reels off Dani’s address but she corrects him and instead gives Tom’s. She looks at him, her eyes pleading. He nods. Then the cab wheels away.

They sit on the backseat and Dani slides sideways and lays her head on his lap. Tom watches the cabby tilt his mirror down so he
can see if any funny business is going on in the back. Tom strokes her hair and tries not to get an erection.

At the end of the journey he pays the fare. He gives a decent tip to stop any complaint.

Then Dani laces her arms around him and he helps her up to his room. He puts her into his bed, fully clothed, and she falls asleep. He sits in a chair and watches her.

At about 9 p.m. she wakes and asks for water. Then she gets up and uses the phone, calling home to tell them she’s staying the night with a friend. Her dad answers, he wants more details, but she tells him all is fine, that she’s tired and is going straight to bed. He isn’t pleased but says “okay.” Then she goes back to Tom’s room, strips to her underwear, gets into his bed and sleeps for another eighteen hours.

When she finally awakes she finds him sitting in an armchair by the bed, watching over her. She holds her hand out to him and pulls him onto the bed with her. They spoon together though she is under the sheets and he on top of them.

“Thank you,” she says softly to the back of his head. He tries to turn but she stops him. She likes him to be close but doesn’t want him to see her.

“I want to say something … not to you, exactly, maybe like a New Year’s resolution. I think I just have to say it to get it out there.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t ever do that again.”

He stays silent, waiting to hear if there’s more.

“I don’t know how I feel about kids, I … I’m not sure my
mum’s the best role model for balancing a career and motherhood. But I didn’t take care of myself and … and look at the mess I got myself in. I need to look out, think—not just jump at things for the challenge, to see what happens.”

Tom nods but doesn’t really understand. His own desire is so focused on Dani that it skews his natural inquisitiveness. He notices other women, especially their breasts and bums, but always in comparison with Dani. For him there is no one else.

“I need to get my shit together,” she says, forcing a smile that’s more like a grimace.

They lie there for a while and then Dani sighs, gives him a last squeeze and gets up to face the world again.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

The next few days Patty spends in some kind of limbo. Waiting. Waiting for news from Keyson. Waiting for the name of her daughter’s murderer and, of course, considering how she might end another human being’s life. Planning a killing. Really anticipating, imagining and relishing the taking of his final breath. Both in her waking life and in sleep, she is consumed by a bloodlust that has lain coiled around her heart for twenty years and is now ready to strike.

She has become an early riser. Not because she goes to bed early—she doesn’t—but because she’s weaned herself from the need for sleep. Four hours is all she’s needed for many years. Even that seems a luxury now, as she rises at five o’clock after just three hours of sleep. But she wakes refreshed, buzzing with adrenaline. She’s moved the telephone next to her bed and during the day walks around the house with it in her pocket, desperate not to miss the call from Keyson. She still leaves the house to run but she’s gone for only an hour and takes her mobile. When she returns, she checks the answering machine and calls the talking clock to make sure the phone has no fault. She waits.

She waits for four days and three hours. Then the phone rings. They speak for a few seconds. That afternoon, she goes to her bank
and withdraws the money. She is surprised at how small ten thousand pounds is, just a paper bag about the size of a sandwich.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Patty drives into the NCP car park and all the way to the top level. That high, it’s almost totally empty. She parks in the outer rows looking out over the Thames. It’s a crisp autumn day with barely a cloud in the sky. The sun is bright, but not warm. She stands on the edge of the parapet and looks out. If she leans forward and cranes her neck out, she can see down the river to St. Paul’s. The majesty of it takes her breath away and for a moment makes her forget why she’s there—what she will soon do—but just for a second.

She watches boats motor along the Thames, mostly tourists boarding in the shadow of Parliament and going downriver. So many years since she has done anything like that—enjoyed the city she had once loved so much. She and Jim used … Oh, what good will that do? The past is buried, burned black, and should not be dug up. Instead, she thinks once again about how his filth can be examined on a cellular level. How each cell bears his signature; his blood and piss and seed all spell his name and will prove his guilt. Then, once it is proven beyond doubt, she will kill him.