I resisted the urge to look away. I didn’t want her to think I was disgusted with her, or that I already knew. If I was disgusted with anyone, it was myself. ‘Really? Why have you done that?’
‘Well, you know about my gymnastics, right? We get together and count each other’s ribs, and if they’re hard to count that means we’re too big. Vronnie’s in gymnastics too, and one day she pinched my side and got hold of some fat, and it just totally freaked me out. I made myself sick after dinner that night and it was horrible, but I did it again and it wasn’t too bad, and now it’s not that hard to do at all.’
I didn’t know how to respond. I just couldn’t believe the timing.
I felt like Carmen, struggling to find the right words. ‘Are you going to tell Granny and Gramps?’
She looked at the ground and shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, do you?’
‘Probably not. What about Josh?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I know you probably don’t want to, but he loves you and he’s really trying to help.’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’
And then I took a deep breath. ‘Kelly, I’ve got a drama . . .’ I felt her hand stiffen in mine. She knew what was coming. ‘I’ve got to go away. Yes, it’s work. I’ve thought about it, and I reckon it’s best that you go back early. Josh and everyone are back later today, so if you went tomorrow—’
She pulled her hand away. ‘But I’m due at Dr Hughes’s on Tuesday, right?’
‘I’ve told Dr Hughes, she knows you’re leaving tomorrow. I asked her not to say anything because I wanted to tell you myself. Look, you’re better off getting back to the States and starting with whoever she’s organizing to help you.’
‘But I want to come back on Tuesday.’ Her voice quavered. She stared at me, tears welling and just starting to fall down her face. ‘I want to see her, I need to see her, she’s the only one who—’
‘It’s better this way. You’ll just be starting with the person she recommends a little early.’
‘How am I supposed to get better when you keep doing this to me?’ She moved her head sadly from side to side. ‘You say you want to be with me, but you don’t. You don’t understand . . .’
‘Be fair – how can I get to understand if you don’t tell me what’s happening?’
Her tears had stopped and her body stopped moving. ‘But I have now, haven’t I? You’re still leaving.’
Shit, she had me on that one. ‘Look, going home now means you can start seeing another therapist all the sooner. We were only ever going to be here for a short while, and Dr Hughes has done well, hasn’t she? I mean, look what you’ve been able to talk about. Now we have a good base to work from back home. Isn’t that for the best?’
I hit the key, then rehashed it. Suzy was out on the street. ‘He’s called and we’ve a meet in an hour and forty-five.’
I put on a happy voice. ‘OK. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.’
Her voice was full of tension. ‘Do you understand? I’m leaving now for Starbucks. You need to be there – don’t let me down.’
‘Yes, I’ve got that. I’ll talk to you in a minute.’ I cut the phone and looked down at Kelly. ‘I know, I know. I’ve got to go in a minute. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I’ll call you later.’
We stood on the pavement outside the cafe. ‘Granny and Gramps are inside.’ I opened the door and we went in. Kelly took the conversation out of my hands. ‘Nick has to go to work now, don’t you, Nick?’
I looked down at her. ‘We’ll talk later about . . . you know, what we just talked about. OK?’
She nodded weakly as she accepted my hug. ‘OK.’
As soon as I was outside with my bags I got back on to the phone. ‘Suzy, pick me up, will you? I’ll meet you in Sloane Square, the bus stop outside WH Smith.’
‘Better be there.’
The phone went dead and I walked up to the square, still trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. But, then, I’d spent most of my life doing that, and wasn’t sure I’d ever won the argument.
28
Suzy was late. It shouldn’t have taken her so long. I was waiting against the Smith’s window with my shopping bags piled up at my feet, concentrating on the vehicles coming from my right on the one-way circuit round the square. While I looked out for Suzy, I took a mental note of every female driver of about her age, as well as the model of their car, its colour and registration number – anything to stop me thinking about Kelly.
I checked traser again and pulled out the moan-phone. ‘Where the fuck are you?’
‘Nearly there. Gimme two.’
I got out my own cell and dialled Josh, just in case they’d got back early. If so, I’d be waking the house – they were five hours behind. But all I got was his answerphone.
I spotted the Peugeot 206 first, a shiny silver thing straight from the showroom, then Suzy’s hair flying round as her head swung from side to side, looking for me. She saw me and swerved, her right hand on the wheel as her left changed down, and a cabbie hit his horn as he moved to avoid her. I stepped out on to the pavement and waved to her, then went back and gathered up my shopping.
I did a smily ‘Hello, how are you?’ as I opened the door and climbed in, dumping the bags in the back as she responded with her pleased-to-see-you routine.
‘Fucking traffic.’ She chewed hard on her gum. ‘We gotta get a move on.’
We nudged out into the flow, following the clockwise route round Sloane Square, and immediately had to stop at the lights. ‘Phone the boss, will you, Nick? Tell him what’s happening. I waited in case he wanted to talk to you.’
‘Can’t you do it?’
‘What – and break the law?’ She lifted both hands from the wheel. ‘Go on, you like him, really.’
I pulled out the moan-phone from the bumbag and dialled.
He answered with a gruff ‘What?’ The Yes Man had only wrong sides on his bed, and the moan-phone lived up to its name.
‘It’s Nick.’
‘Well?’
‘We’ve got a meet in just under an hour. We’re on our—’
‘Call me back when you’ve finished with him.’ The phone went dead.
‘There, you see?’ She shrugged her left shoulder and lifted a hand. ‘That didn’t hurt, did it?’
I didn’t answer, instead concentrated on putting the moan-phone back in the bumbag.
‘Just because I’m right. Anyway, what did he say?’
‘We’ve got to call back with a sit rep afterwards.’
She checked her watch. ‘I brought all the kit with me – there’s two ops bags in the back. I reckoned it’s better with us than back at the flat. Another blast from the past, eh?’
She was talking about the stuff that sat in the back of our cars when we went out on ops with the Det: a set of Gore-Tex, including boots, warm-weather kit, wellington boots, Mars bars rewrapped in clingfilm to cut down on noise, and a weapon. A lot of us chose the G3, a 7.62 assault rifle with a fixed butt so you could take good, sturdy, long-range shots, rather than collapsible stocks that tend to move about. It would have been my weapon of choice for this job, too, but the SDs in the boot would do just fine.
We left the square and headed east. Suzy nodded as we drove by Victoria station. ‘Look, they’re busy again.’ Parked at the roadside ahead of us were two unmarked police cars. The occupants looked nonchalant enough, but the sunlight glinted on the blue lights hidden behind their plastic radiator grilles.
I hit the radio and got a phone-in about post-conflict Iraq. Suzy powered down her window. ‘Were you in Gulf War One?’ She spat out the gum. ‘You know, with the Regiment?’
‘Yeah, looking for scud and stuff. It was the last time I wore NBC kit. Even then I wasn’t too sure what to do with it.’
