walls were lined with a rake of squat cloth chairs pushed together into benches. In the centre was a low table covered with nervously dog-eared magazines.
There were already half a dozen people in occupation. Most of them looked awkward and uncomfortable in their full race-replica leathers. A row of helmets sat like trophy skulls across the end run of seats.
I had time to wonder who they all were, these strangers. I didn’t think I’d been away long enough to be so completely out of touch. Nobody looked immediately familiar but I didn’t have time for a thorough inspection.
As soon as we appeared, a middle-aged woman who’d been sitting in a corner jumped to her feet and launched herself in my direction.
Before I knew it I’d been enveloped in a motherly embrace of such ferocity I barely knew how to react. Aggression I can deal with in my sleep. Affection defeats me every time.
I gave in long enough to hug her in return, then managed to lever myself back far enough to be able to breathe unrestricted.
“Pauline?” I said, suddenly grateful to see her. “What are you doing here?”
“Sam got them to call me,” she said gently. “He thought Clare might appreciate a friendly face.”
I’d known Pauline Jamieson since she started coming to the self-defence classes I was teaching around Lancaster a couple of years ago. Then, when those came to a somewhat abrupt end, she stuck by me as a friend.
After I’d introduced them, Pauline had got to know Jacob and Clare almost as well as I did. So, of course she would be here. Unaccountably, for the first time my voice wobbled and threatened to take the rest of my face down with it.
Pauline took one look at me and wrapped me in a big hug again. She was wearing a strappy summer dress that was a bit of a fashion mistake with her ample figure but she had the self-confidence to carry it off regardless. Her hair was a vivid shade of burgundy and she smelt of apples and peppermint.
“Clare will make it,” she said, eyeing me intently. Just when I thought her firm tone meant she’d had an updated report, she dashed my hopes by adding, “You’ve got to keep telling yourself that.”
“How is she? Have they told you anything?”
“Only that both her legs are broken,” Pauline said. She was one of the most matter-of-fact people I knew, but just saying the words even she winced. “Pelvis too, I think. I’m still waiting to hear.”
I blanked my mind to the image of Clare’s long artlessly perfect legs in pieces like a jigsaw puzzle.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “Does she know about Jacob?”
“Jacob?” Pauline frowned and glanced at Sam, then her eyebrows shot up and she let go of me just long enough to put her hands to her mouth. “Oh my goodness,” she said, a little faintly. “That wasn’t who she was on the bike with, Charlie. I thought so initially – everybody did – but we were wrong, thank heavens. It wasn’t Jacob.”
Parts of my brain overloaded and shut down. Anger sparked and flashed over. A gut instinct response, like the irate mother of a just-found missing child. The relief was so strong it actually hurt.
“Oh thank Christ for that,” I moaned, pulling away from Pauline’s arms to sink onto the nearest chair with my head in my hands.
“You might want to rethink the celebration a little, or at least tone it down,” said a voice above me, tight with compressed emotion. “It might not be your mate who’s cashed in his chips, but it was one of ours.”
I lifted my head to find one of the group of bikers had come over and was glaring at the three of us in fairly equal measure.
He was black, with high cheekbones and a buzz cut. Probably somewhere in his late twenties, he was built like a gym junkie, bulked out further by the snazzy one-piece leathers he was wearing. On the outside of both knees were hard plastic sliders, stuck on with velcro. The sliders were well scuffed, so either he had the bottle to lean his bike over far enough to get his knee down, or he fell off a lot.
The leathers were the latest pattern of expensive Nankai gear in white and two shades of bright green. I would have laid money on him having the latest pattern of expensive Kawasaki sports bike to match.
We each of us reacted to his intrusion according to our nature. Sam took a step back, I got to my feet and took a step forwards, and Pauline moved into the middle ground between us, stoutly undaunted.
“Don’t you think there’s been more than enough bloodshed for one day, young man?” she asked, her voice mild.
To my surprise, the big guy looked flustered at her quiet admonition. He dropped his gaze, hunching his shoulders uncomfortably inside all that kevlar-reinforced padding as though he’d developed a sudden itch.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, giving him a way out with honour along with an apologetic smile. I had to tilt my head back to look up at him and I was no short-stop. “I’ve just ridden down here like a bat out of hell believing one of my oldest friends was dead.” I shrugged. “But it was still thoughtless of me.”
He nodded at that, little more than a ducking of his head. On impulse I stuck my hand out.
“Charlie Fox,” I said. He took it and shook it, gently, his fingers engulfing mine.
“William,” he said in grudging response.
“Just William?”
There was a pause, then his face cracked in spite of himself. The smile lightened him up by about ten years and took him several notches down the threat scale at the same time. “Yeah,” he said. “Just William.”
Pauline introduced herself, too, then announced she was going to roust the medical staff again for more news. Sam had been hovering nervously while this exchange took place. “I’ll get coffee,” he offered and scurried away before I could do more than nod and smile at him.
