money together months back. She was touched also that he remembered: Roman
Georges nodded with a tame smile: he could see that she looked troubled, was conscious of prying ears. They moved two booths away from the bar.
She ran through the story exactly as Roman had coached: a club visitor who she’d made the mistake of dating; he’d became difficult and possessive, started shouting that he didn’t want her working at the club anymore while she was going out with him. She’d tried to break it up the night before ‘…and we ended up arguing. Things went from bad to worse, and that’s when he hit out. Gave me this…’ She lifted up her face mask. She was careful to keep her back to Azy, who was no doubt keeping half an eye on them; although Azy would have clearly seen Georges’ pained flinch as the ugly bruise was exposed. She bit lightly at her lip as Georges sucked in his breath. ‘I was worried that he might be waiting by my place again tonight. So I was wondering if… if you might be able to run me home tonight… see me safely to my door.’ The right emotions were easy to turn on: seeing Georges’s reaction to her bruise brought home just what a mess Roman had made of her; she was close to tears again. ‘If it’s not putting you out any… you see, normally I would-’
Georges clasped her hand. ‘No, no… it’s okay. I can run you home.’ Georges’ eyes searched hers a moment longer. Her fear was genuine, and if her intention was to hit on him she would have chosen another time: with her face half mashed up, she wasn’t at her most alluring. ‘But what about the other nights I’m not here? What will you do — get Roman to run you back?’ He looked past her shoulder. ‘…Or Azy maybe?’
She held up one hand. ‘No, I don’t want either of them to know about it. You know what Roman’s like if he found out — he’d half kill the guy. And Azy’s real strict on us dating clients because of past problems: he’d feel that he had to tell Yves or Roman. I’ve laid on my cousin to pick me up most nights… it’s just that he couldn’t make it tonight.’
‘No, it’s okay — I’ll run you.’ Georges gave her hand one last re-assuring pat before pulling his away. ‘I’ve got to nip out for something to eat, but I’ll be back later to do the take.’
‘Roman’s not doing it tonight?’
‘No. With the problem with the registers, I wanted to do the tally tonight: no point in us both being here. I phoned him an hour back.’
Viana let out a slow breath as if a burden had been eased. ‘That was another thing I was worried about, having to cover with Roman. If he asked about the mask, I was going to have to lie to him, tell him I fell down some stairs.’ She forced a nervous smile. Everything was going how Roman planned, and hopefully she’d feigned her side well: Georges looked convinced, settled. But as she turned slightly, she was aware in her side vision of Azy still looking over at them. ‘I’d better get back now. Thanks again, Georges. See you later.’ She touched his sleeve and headed off towards the far side of the room, quickly slipping back into her normal seductive sway as she roamed for fresh dance clients.
She hooked a client after only a minute, but as she started to dance her nerves began to build. She noticed Georges was back at the bar talking to Azy; she was sure Georges wouldn’t say anything, but what if Azy read between the lines? Azy looked up at her for a moment before moving along the bar to serve another customer. She closed her eyes, tried to absorb herself in the mood of the music and her dancing.
Twenty minutes later, straight after another check with Azy of the bar cash register, Georges left. Viana waited ten minutes more, then went to her mobile in her handbag and put through the pre-arranged call to Roman.
‘It’s done. He’s gone now — but he’s coming back to pick me up later.’
‘Okay. Good stuff. We’ll be sitting outside. See you later.’
But wondering if Azy suspected something each time he looked over and thinking ahead to what she’d have to do, her agitation hadn’t abated. Her hand was shaking heavily as she tucked her mobile back in her handbag.
The passing hours didn’t help. She took a shot of vodka in each of the three cokes she had after 11pm, but still her hands were shaking, her stomach in knots. She even took a quick snort of coke in a washroom cubicle, but all that did was sharpen her focus, her sense of apprehension: Georges was one of the nice guys, one of the few that took the time out to show any interest in her welfare, what might lay beneath her skin. What if Roman did intend to harm him?
When they were getting near closing and Georges still hadn’t returned, she started to hope that he wouldn’t show. That he’d had second thoughts about them being alone together, worried that she might come on to him. As for Roman, she’d have done her bit: it wouldn’t be her fault if Georges didn’t show. Surely Roman wouldn’t take it out on her?
The pros and cons tugged at her, but any clarity seemed out of reach beyond the pounding of the music and a slight buzzing in her head: she wished now she’d laid off the drink and cocaine, and registering the slight frown from the client before her, she realized that her pre-occupation had made her pause for a second in her dancing. She picked up the rhythm again, and halfway through a second dance for the same client, Georges walked in. By that time her nerves were so out of control that all she could manage was a small wave and a tight, nervous smile.
She became more concerned that Azy had picked up that something was wrong when he finally wiped down the bar and just before leaving came over to her and another girl, Lucy.
‘Everything okay, girls?’
‘Yeah, my boyfriend’s coming by to pick me up,’ Lucy answered.
‘I’m waiting on my cousin,’ Viana said quickly.
Azy nodded and said smiling goodbyes to them and Georges, who was busy finishing the register tallies; but Viana couldn’t help noticing that Azy’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer than Lucy.
Viana arranged with Georges that just as a precaution she’d leave a minute earlier and wait a block down for him to pick her up.
Georges too picked up on her nervousness, seeing her hand shake as she slid in the car and shut the door behind her — though he put this down to apprehension that her boyfriend might be waiting for her.
‘Don’t worry,’ Georges assured. ‘He sees me roll up with you — and even if he
‘Can you stay inside with me maybe fifteen, twenty minutes, just to make sure?’ Viana asked. Her nerves put a faint croaky tremble to her voice: just the right touch. She looked across at him expectantly: with this last cog in place, the dye would be cast, no turning back. ‘A few nights back he rang my bell five or ten minutes after I showed up.’
Georges paused only for a second. ‘Yeah, sure.’ He took his eyes from her back to the road. He could see that she was deeply perturbed, which made him feel safe: romance was the last thing on this girl’s mind.
Walmerton School
The school plaque was discreet, gold lettering on a small, black-painted board by the main double playground gates. A smaller school than Chelvale Primary where Katine went, though nothing between them academically: perhaps the school’s longer heritage had attracted Ryall. Elena had only visited once before, five years ago when deciding where to send Katine.
But she was far more nervous now than she was then, even though that meeting had been terrifying: the school’s atmosphere austere, stuffy, and the interviewing headmaster no less so, with the accent on rules and tradition more than any ambient needs of the pupils.
Crossing the school playground, it was almost deathly silent, only some faint birdsong from some nearby trees: the quiet before the storm of the lunchtime bell and the playground being filled with a mass of shrill voices suddenly let loose. But now all Elena was conscious of was the fall of her own footsteps beyond her heavy
