“Shut up, Kyle.” Julian’s voice was quieter, less slurry, more menacing.
“No, I won’t fucking shut up. You want to know something, I hope the little whore has jumped off the bridge. Good fucking riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what I say. This town’s better off without her. And I’m not the only one thinks so. Ask anyone in here, they’ll tell you the same. ”
Kyle’s last word came out in a gasp as Julian shoved him in the chest, sending him reeling. “Say another word about Mia and I’ll spread your fucking nose over your face.”
“I’d like to see you try,” retorted Kyle, fists balled.
Julian took an unsteady step towards him, catching hold of a table for balance. He shook his head as if trying to clear it and flapped a hand at Kyle. “Ah, fuck you.” He raised his voice so the whole bar could hear. “Fuck all you pricks. She’s worth more than the lot of you put together. She’s worth more than this whole shitheap of a town.”
“I think you’d better leave,” the barman said to Julian.
“Don’t worry, I’m going.”
Staying upright with difficulty, Julian made his way outside. Kyle followed him as far as the door. “Julian,” he called after him, the anger gone from his voice, concern taking its place. “You’re not going to do anything stupid like kill yourself or anything, are you?”
Julian glanced back at him, eyes swimming. “No, but maybe it’d be better if I did.”
Relieved, Kyle let out a breath. “And what about us?” he asked tentatively. “Are we still mates?”
Julian stared at Kyle a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Bye, Kyle.”
After fumbling the key into the ignition, Julian pulled away with a crunching of gears. He didn’t think about where he was going, he only thought about where he wasn’t going. I’m not going home, he told himself, all this shit has got to end, and end tonight. He kept slamming the heel of his hand into the steering-wheel as, in a kind of drunken trance, he drove out of town to Mr X’s place. As usual, the dog was waiting for him. His face twisted with irritation at the sight of it. He snatched up a stone and flung it with all his strength, scoring a direct hit on the animal’s muzzle, whooping triumphantly as it yelped and skittered away. He reeled backward himself a second later as it thrust its nose between the bars, barking.
“Shut the fuck up,” Julian yelled, stooping for another stone. The dog sprang away. It loitered at a safe distance with malicious intent in its eyes as Julian pressed the intercom button. “No more fucking around,” he hissed into it. “I’m here to cut a deal.”
As usual, silence roared back at Julian, closing in around him, beating against his eardrums. He pointed to the car. “That’s worth ten thousand at least. It’s yours. And there’s more where that came from, much more, as much as you want. My family’s rich. Just tell me how much you want.”
Julian knew he sounded desperate, knew he’d lost all pretence of self-control, but he didn’t care anymore. “Look, I’m laying it all on the table here. This is everything I’ve got to offer. Just give me Mia. I know you’ve got her, otherwise I’d be in jail, wouldn’t I?” After a moment’s more silence, he continued in a pleading, pathetic voice, “Oh God, give me her, please give me her, please, please…” He trailed off, hanging his head, his eyes filling with tears. The silence seemed to be getting louder and heavier by the second, as if it was trying to browbeat him into giving up.
Wiping his tears away savagely, he glowered at the security camera. “I won’t give up. Do you fucking hear me? Call the police, kick the shit out of me, whatever. I’ll keep coming back. I’ll never stop. Never!” With this last word, he hammered his fist against the intercom hard enough to crack its casing. Static flared, then the hiss of the intercom died. As it did, the gate began to slide open — not all the way, just far enough to let the dog through.
Heart lurching, Julian ran for his car. He might’ve made it, if his reactions hadn’t been dulled by alcohol. As he yanked the door open, the dog’s teeth closed around his right ankle. He screamed as they sank into his flesh. The dog ragged his leg from side to side, trying to drag him away from the car. He clung to the door and kicked the dog in the head. For an instant, its jaws loosened. Jerking his leg free, he dove into the car and slammed the door shut. The dog howled and scrabbled at the window, its breath misting the glass. Julian examined his leg. Blood leaked from two half-moons of deep looking puncture wounds on either side of his ankle. He pulled off his shoe and tied his sock around the wound in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding.
The dog, seemingly realising the futility of trying to force its way into the car, stopped howling and sat on its haunches, eyeballing Julian. He stared back at it, his eyes wet with pain and hate. He stared into the darkness beyond the gate, crazy thoughts rushing through his head. He imagined running the dog over, smashing through the gate, fighting his way into Mr X’s house and rescuing Mia. He shoved the thoughts aside. Likely, all such a course would achieve would be to get himself and her killed. “I’ll be back, you fucking sick fuck!” he shouted, almost screaming in his rage-spitting impotent frustration. Then he shoved the car into reverse.
Julian didn’t go home. A low groan escaping his lips every time he needed to brake, he drove around town until he found an all-night chemist, from which he bought a bandage, gauze pads and antiseptic wipes. Teeth gritted, he cleaned the bite and bandaged it as best he could.
Still, Julian didn’t go home. He parked in a side-street and sat staring at the night, his leg throbbing as painfully and relentlessly as his heart. He tried not to think about Eleanor. He tried not to think about Mia. He tried not to think about the consequences his loss of control might have on them. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He sat trapped between the desire to escape his thoughts through sleep, and the desire to escape his dreams by staying awake. He felt like shouting his lungs out, he felt like tearing the car apart, he felt like tearing himself apart. The pain throbbed on and on, like pulses of electricity. And at that moment he was glad of it, he immersed himself in it, kept himself sane with it.
Chapter 20
Somehow Julian got through the night. Somehow he drove to the factory. He limped to his office and sat behind the desk, staring dead-eyed at the computer monitor, thinking, what the fuck am I doing here? Why did I come in today? Where else have you got to go? his mind asked. I should be out there, he replied silently. Doing what? I don’t know, something…
Julian gave a start when his dad entered the room. “Where did you get to last night?” Robert asked.
“I went to see Eleanor.”
“How’s the website going?”
Julian blinked his sore eyes. He’d forgotten all about the website. After what’d happened, it was a fair bet to assume it wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t about to tell his dad that, though. He didn’t have the heart or energy to face his disappointment and questions. “Fine.”
Robert raised a smiling eyebrow. “When are you two going to get back together?”
Julian winced, not because of his leg. “I don’t know, probably never.”
“That’s a shame. She’s a great girl and you’re really good-” Noticing his son’s increasingly pained expression, Robert broke off. “You’re upset aren’t you, I can see it.” He hesitated, looking like what he was — someone on unfamiliar terrain — then asked a little awkwardly, “Want to talk about it?”
Julian shook his head. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have known how to talk about it, not with his dad. “Well you know where I am if you change your mind,” continued Robert, with a flicker of something in his eyes that might’ve been disappointment or, more likely, thought Julian, relief.
He nodded. “Thanks.”
A moment’s silence passed between them. Robert scratched at the base of his neck and cleared his throat. “Listen, Julian, you remember that guy from the other day? The buyer from the high-street store. Well, he’s coming here again this morning. I was going to ask you to sit in on the meeting, but you’re obviously in no state for it. You look as if you haven’t slept a wink.”
“I haven’t. I was up…working most of the night.”
“In that case, why don’t you go home, get some sleep?”
Sleep. The word sent a shudder through Julian. Along with a guilty sense of duty, it bound him to his desk. “I’ve got a ton of work to do. The overheads-”
“Can wait until tomorrow. I know you’re eager to get on with things, Julian, but you’ll be no good to anyone if
