Warhol's Prophecy

She swung herself out of the car and locked it, checking her reflection in the window before she set off towards his house.

Be firm, not rude. Just firm.

Her heels clicked on the pavement as she walked. The only sound, it seemed, in the stillness of the thoroughfare.

There were two or three birds singing in the trees that lined the street, but apart from that she seemed to be alone.

Hailey paused at the entrance to the short driveway that led to Walker’s house, gazing at the dwelling for long moments before finally heading towards the front door.

Keep calm.

Walker’s Scorpio wasn’t in the drive.

It could be in the garage, she reasoned.

He was probably in.

Watching you from one of the windows. Waiting for you.

She reached the front door, hesitated a minute, then rang the doorbell.

Her heart was beating even faster now.

Why are you concerned? He’s the one in the wrong. He’s the one who should be apologizing for what he’s done. The dog shit through the letterbox, the slashed tyres on Rob’s car, the break-in. He should be grateful you didn’t call the police.

Hailey took a step back and looked up at the first-floor windows.

No sign of movement behind the curtains.

Perhaps he wasn’t home.

And if he’s not? How many times do you come back?

She rang the bell again.

Still no answer.

Hailey crossed to the bay window, cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the glass.

She could see very little.

The path led on to a wooden gate at one side. This obviously led to the back of the house.

She saw a latch on the gate and lifted it, pushing against the weathered wood.

The gate didn’t budge.

Hailey muttered under her breath and pushed harder.

The gate swung open and she almost overbalanced.

A narrow path continued down the side of the house, flanked on the left by some out-of-control privet hedge that also acted as a barrier between Walker’s house and the dwelling next door.

Hailey moved slowly along the path, pieces of untrimmed privet scratching at her clothes and face. She emerged into the back garden.

For a moment she stood still, remembering the last time she had been here at Walker’s house.

Remembering it because you enjoyed it?

She crossed to the back door and knocked.

No answer.

Hailey peered through various windows, but saw nothing. If Walker was inside, then he had no desire to speak to her.

Because he had something to hide? Because he was ashamed?

She returned to the back door and twisted the handle.

Locked.

In frustration, she banged again, harder this time. Only silence.

Hailey murmured something angrily and headed back up the path to the side of the house.

The gate had swung shut.

She wrenched it open.

The figure before her seemed to appear from nowhere.

68

HAILEY BARELY MANAGED to suppress a scream.

She took a step back, colliding with the gate.

The woman standing there looked in her late fifties: pudgy-faced and dressed in a blue cardigan and brown slacks. She seemed as surprised as Hailey by this sudden confrontation, and she too stepped back.

‘Sorry,’ Hailey said breathlessly. ‘You scared me.’

The woman eyed her appraisingly for a moment, then managed a smile.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ she said and Hailey heard a slight Northern lilt in her accent. ‘Only I saw you arrive and I was coming over to tell you that Mr Walker’s out. I wasn’t being nosy, you understand, but we’ve had a few burglaries in the area, so we all keep an eye out. We’ve got this neighbourhood-watch thing – very good idea. I thought I remembered seeing you here with Adam once before. That’s why I came over. I didn’t want to leave you hanging around. I don’t think Adam would be too happy if he came back and found his girlfriend standing out on the doorstep, would he?’

‘No,’ said Hailey softly. ‘He probably wouldn’t.’

His girlfriend? What the hell had he been saying?

‘I suppose you were trying to surprise him,’ the woman said.

Hailey nodded.

‘We live next door,’ the woman added, motioning towards the house on the left.

She paused a moment longer, then turned to leave.

‘How well do you know, Mr Walker – Adam?’ Hailey said, as if anxious that the woman should remain.

‘Well, he keeps himself to himself mostly. People do around here, don’t they? My husband’s always laughing at me for saying that. You know, that Northerners are more friendly than Southerners.’ She grinned. ‘We’ve lived here for more than forty years. We’ve seen lots of people come and go. We moved down here in 1949 – no, I tell a lie, 1950.’

‘Do you know Adam’s family?’ said Hailey, interrupting her musings.

‘Well, like I said, everyone minds their own business around here, but we used to speak to his father quite regularly. A very nice man. It’s a terrible shame he’s ill.’

‘What about his mother?’

The neighbour looked away from Hailey and crossed her arms.

‘I don’t agree with what she did,’ said the woman indignantly. ‘Running around with another man. And the worst thing is, she made no attempt to hide it. I mean, you don’t do things like that when you’re married, do you?’

No, you don’t, do you?

Hailey shook her head slowly.

‘And married to a vicar as well,’ the woman continued. ‘It’s a disgrace. I felt for Adam, poor little chap. I think he was only six or seven at the time. It’s always the kiddies who suffer when marriages break up, isn’t it?’

Hailey nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘Mind you, his father did a good job of bringing him up alone. It’s not easy for a man on his own, is it? Especially not a man in his position. But he can be proud of what he’s done. Adam is a lovely lad, but then you don’t need me to tell you.’

She laughed warmly.

‘Did you see much of the brother and sister before they left home?’

The woman looked vague. ‘Whose?’ she asked.

‘Adam’s. He’s got a brother and a sister, he told me.’

‘Well, if he has he’s done a good job of keeping that quiet.’ The woman smiled.