He was waiting for her in a wheelchair in the centre of a wide white room with polished floorboards and windows that looked out over the sea. A big man, even in his chair, with thick black curly hair and a bright red shirt covering his broad chest. He glided towards her. She put her collection of plastic tubs down on a table.
‘You look good,’ she said, leaning down to kiss his cheek, hugging him from where she stood.
‘How are you, more to the point?’ he said, looking at her shrewdly.
‘I could be better. I need a break from work, it’s getting to me. I need to get back into the real world for a little while.’
‘What do you do that fucking awful job for? Why don’t you do something civilised with your life? Somewhere where you’d meet people with minds? You know. Cleaning railway station toilets or something like that.’
‘You know me, Frankie. I have to know. I have to keep pushing to see what’s next. Why else?’
He laughed. He had turned on the music; she went to the kitchen to put the food in the microwave, to get forks and spoons, a drinking cup that did not spill its contents when the drinker’s hands shook.
‘Where’s Phyllis tonight? Did you give her the night off?’ she asked when she reappeared with a tray, wondering where Frankie’s live-in nurse had got to.
‘Yeah, I gave her a break. I thought she might like some time to herself.’
‘Yeah. She probably would. We can have some to ourselves now as well.’
Tonight, Grace and her old life and her old lover would be just comfort enough for each other. Nothing much else was necessary.
21
Grace left Whale Beach as the waves were crashing in on the headlands and the wash was spreading out across the sand. The swell rolled in, its faint streaks of white water glimmering in the pre-dawn darkness. She was heading home, in her mind choosing the day’s outfit. She phoned in to check if there were any messages on her answering machine and because of what she heard recorded there did not go home but drove straight to work instead. In the office sleepy people, the first arrivals, were setting polystyrene cups of steaming coffee on their desks. She knocked on Harrigan’s door where he was sitting working out the day’s business with Trevor and Ian. He looked up, unable to prevent himself from taking in the full sight of her without make-up and in casual dress finished off with a worn leather jacket. She was wearing the midriff and navel look, as he called it. He tried not to look at the bare skin between her too short T-shirt and the line of her jeans.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ she said to him.
‘You’re dressed for work, are you? What is it?’
He was frowning. He himself was casually dressed, which meant that he was without his garrotte for the day, a tie.
‘I haven’t been home yet to get dressed,’ she replied. ‘This was on my answering machine when I rang in this morning to check.’
As he took her phone, Harrigan had the pleasure of watching Ian ogle Grace and grin salaciously behind her back. He listened to the message before passing it on to Trevor and Ian in turn. The first sounds of the recording were of silence, and then of someone moving, and then of a voice, slurred and slow.
‘Is that that woman, Grace? The one who talked to me? It’s Greggie.
I’m ringing to tell you that I’m flying at the moment. And I’m flying because I want to. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good in my life.
Because I’m on my way out and no one can do anything to stop me and I’m free now. And I’ve never felt happier in my life. I just feel that I’m going to sleep. He won’t like that because I’m fucking it up for him, serve him fucking right. I just wanted to say — you’ve got to understand her. The Firewall, that is. She wouldn’t want me saying who she is. I rang her but she’s got her phone off so I can’t say goodbye. Will you do that for me? If you do give a shit like you say you do. Just say I wanted to say goodbye to her. She’s got her reasons, you need to talk her round, just talk to her. She’s not like him, you remember that.’
There was a faint clink as the phone was turned off. After a short break a mechanical voice read out: ‘Tuesday, 18 July, 3:59 a.m.’
‘That was our witness,’ Harrigan said. ‘Goodbye, Greggie. Poor bloody kid.’
He sat there expressionless, tapping at the desk, otherwise unmoving. He radiated sufficient tension to render everyone else in the room momentarily silent.
‘He. Him. Who’s that?’ Ian asked, giving the phone back to Grace.
‘Who do you think? Our friendly neighbourhood everyone’s-my-mate community refuge preacher from the New Life Ministries. I’ll lay you odds,’ Harrigan replied.
‘“I’m fucking it up for him”,’ Trevor repeated. ‘He didn’t want him dead.’
‘Just not yet, is all that means.’
‘That was loyalty, wasn’t it?’ Grace said. ‘He wasn’t going to tell us who she is, not even then.’
Harrigan looked at her from across his desk.
‘You didn’t hear that message when it came through? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why wait till now to share it with us?’
‘It’s like I said. I’ve only just heard it.’ There was a brief silence.
Harrigan was still waiting. ‘I’d turned my mobile off. It couldn’t ring through,’ she said.
‘You weren’t home, you turned your mobile off. You weren’t contactable.’ He felt the back of his neck burn.
‘I had my beeper with me.’
‘That’s not good enough. No, it’s worse than that, it’s bloody useless. You knew that boy had your number, you gave it to him yourself. If you’d had your phone on, you could have talked to him.
You could have asked him where he was, maybe we could have done something for him, we could have traced the call. If everyone else can manage it, I don’t see why you can’t.’
She looked back at him stony-faced; he turned to Ian. ‘Get on to that and check out where that call came from. See what you can trace.’
Ian got to his feet. ‘Can I get Jeffo on to that? Because if I do it, I won’t have time to — ’
‘Jeffo doesn’t know his fig from his date.’ Harrigan’s voice was short to say the least. ‘You do it.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Grace said, angrily. ‘I can do that.’
‘Then get on with it.’ Harrigan knew his face was blood red. ‘And some time today, get changed!’
She gave him one more glance and then walked out of his office, Ian following her.
‘Take it easy, mate,’ Trevor said quietly to Harrigan after they had both gone. ‘Watch your blood pressure. We need you to protect us from Marvin.’
Harrigan did not immediately reply. He was watching Grace pull her long brown hair into a ponytail as she stood by her desk talking to Ian, and wondering who she had been making herself available to at four in the morning. She hadn’t been interested in his company.
‘Don’t worry about it. All I need is some fresh air and a change of scenery,’ he said and collecting his coat went in search of both.
Harrigan should have expected his son to take the initiative. He looked at the computer screen.
‘How are you, more to the point?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine.’
Harrigan sat down beside his son. He almost smiled. He did not quite know what to say. He hadn’t come here to talk about women in general, only one in particular. A population of one that did not include Grace. He looked from the screen to his son.
‘You love her.’ It was something he felt he had to say.
