‘Mr Carruthers?’ Davy calls.
He looks up from placing a case in the boot. His expression moves from confusion to annoyance as he makes out Davy walking towards him out of the shadows.
What will Davy say?
The air is damp and he feels ridiculous.
How will he begin?
‘I was just off—’ Carruthers begins.
‘Yes,’ says Davy.
‘Is there something …?’
‘Not really,’ Davy says. ‘It was just, I was wondering … Did you leave Goldman Sachs or did they, were you … How shall I put this?’
‘Fired? How is that relevant to your case, DS Walker?’
He puts his final bag in the boot and pulls on its lid, which closes itself with a soft, controlled shunk. Turns to Davy with both hands now in his trouser pockets.
‘I was thinking that if you were fired, it might have made you feel insecure and then when Mr Ross began to substantially overtake you in the competition to be deputy chairman, the ground you were standing on must’ve turned to sand.’
The muscle in Carruthers’ jaw is going – clenching and unclenching – but he maintains a steady gaze.
‘That’s very far from how it was,’ he says. Pauses, then smiles. ‘I expect you’re looking for promotion yourself, are you? Is that what this is all about? Everyone moving up a rung since the super coughed? Is that it?’
You would destroy me if you could, Davy thinks. Before him comes the image of Conley Woodchurch’s spotty hopeless face, Juris banged up. The headlines that will inevitably feature the word ‘immigrant’. While this sleek cat will glide away.
‘Ah, but the police promote on merit,’ Davy says, not believing a word of it. ‘Whereas your cull … What happened between you and Juan, by the way?’
‘You’ve been listening to gossip, I see.’
‘Oh no, it’s a matter of record that you fired Juan. He says it was because he scored a winning goal in a friendly five-a-side. Doesn’t sound very friendly to me.’
‘How could you know that? Juan is back in S?o Paulo—’
‘Never heard of Skype?’ Davy asks.
‘Look, DS Walker. I’m not sure what you’re getting at, I’m really not. I believe I’m free to leave, and I’ll be honest, I’m pretty keen to get back to London having spent quite a bit of time in this charming town of yours.’ He opens his driver door, then turns to Davy. ‘I’m not a perfect person, I know that. But I’m not the devil you make me out to be.’
Yes you are, thinks Davy, stepping back so that Carruthers can reverse his BMW out of its parking space. He watches the light pool on its black paintwork like oil, its red brake lights glowing.
No, it’s never people like you who pay.
Day 32
15 January
Manon
She’s bolt awake. Two a.m.
‘I’m bleeding,’ she says, waking him. ‘It’s not much, but …’
‘Right,’ he says, sitting up, blinking. Rubs his eyes before putting on his glasses. ‘Right, come on then.’ He gets out of bed and starts pulling on his jeans. She isn’t doing anything. ‘Why aren’t you getting dressed?’
‘It’s probably nothing,’ she says. ‘Maybe we should leave it till morning.’
‘Nope,’ he says. ‘Come on, we’re going to A&E. Better safe than sorry.’
In the strip-lit waiting room, a urine-soaked tramp is singing Cher. I really don’t think you’re strong enough, woah.
Manon lays her head on Mark’s shoulder.
Taking her hand, he says, ‘They’ll see us in a minute.’ And she thinks, you can’t possibly know that, but likes him for saying it.
‘Why are you here?’ she asks.
‘To see if the baby’s all right,’ he says.
‘No, I mean, why’re you with me?’
‘I don’t know, really,’ he says.
She lifts her head to look at him. If she could have written the line she least wanted him to say, that would’ve been it.
Oh, it doesn’t matter.
Fly is all that matters. He will have been informed that he is to be released. Perhaps the worst is over. Perhaps.
Since she was told by Davy, it’s as if the knot at the centre of her body has unravelled, a level of tension she hadn’t realised she was holding inside her. Ellie exhaled when she heard the news, in fact she cried and Manon looked at her sister in shock. Hadn’t realised she was holding a knot inside her as well.
‘I’m so glad,’ Ellie said, holding on to Manon tighter than was natural. ‘I’m really so glad, Manon. I know you’re going to be OK, now.’
Manon looked at her strangely. ‘All right, you can stop being weird.’
‘You don’t know?’ Manon says to Mark.
He shrugs. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, but seemingly you caught the wrong bus and wandered in by accident.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
She crosses her arms. ‘D’you even know my name?’ she says.
‘Fun sponge,’ he mutters.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Oh look, I’m sorry it’s not more Disney. Maybe I’m a bit passive. This – situation … You and me. I want you and you come like this. And it only requires me to stay and join in.’
She looks at him and wants to cry. It is all so wonderful and so utterly disappointing at the same time.
A while back, his answer would’ve proved to her his irredeemable flaws: weakness, primarily. She would’ve poked at him with her critical stick – passive passive passive – until there was nothing else in her sightline. Now, though, it seems like rather a stroke of luck. Has she become so bovine she’s lost her ability to find fault? She remembers, too, that the case being dropped against Fly has lost him trial fees of well over ten grand. He likes her that much, at least.
‘You’re not passive about work,’ she says.
‘No, it’s almost entirely confined to my personal life.’
She thinks of all the dirty plates he hasn’t placed in the dishwasher, the bin he hasn’t thought to empty.
‘What a terrible father you’ll make.’
‘No doubt.’
I don’t like most people, but I do like you. You and Fly and this one in here. ‘Don’t you want your own children?’ she asks.
‘Probably. But I’m the sort of person who might not get round to it.’
‘And it doesn’t bother you, that it’s someone else’s baby?’
‘It’s not ideal. What do I know? I think loving someone is probably about getting to know them, whether you’re a baby or not.’
‘And what if it’s horrible and we can’t stand each other and you have to leave?’
‘Then we’ll join millions of other people who couldn’t make it work.’
She bursts into tears. ‘I want to know whether it’s going to be all right.’
‘Ah,’ he says, prising her hand out from under her folded arms. ‘No one can tell you that, my darling. Here’s the doctor.’
‘You can feel movement, is that right?’ the doctor says.
‘Yes.’
‘How recently?’
‘Now, it’s moving now.’
‘That’s good. So, we’re going to scan you, but just to warn you, I think we’re going to want to keep you in for observation. D’you want to go home and get your wife an overnight bag?’ he says to Mark.
‘Bring the passion-killer nightie,’ she says to Mark.