“Will you go and see them?” Bee asked.
And because his daughter asked Bish for so little, and because Noor’s words about his son’s spirit were stuck in his head, he took a detour on his way to the Crombies and went to see Rachel. He met Rufus, who had his mother’s red hair and his brother’s mouth. From Bee he would probably inherit her attitude. Bish could tell this by the way Rufus screwed up his face when Rachel mentioned that David was spending the night in the bed beside them. Bish stayed longer than he’d planned to, and they spoke of Bee and Stevie, and how their hearts would always be tied because of their amazing kids. He felt a bittersweet ache, but Rachel was so happy, and he couldn’t want more for someone he loved.
He heard his phone beep and checked the message. It was from Jamal Sarraf. About time you started on that fitness program we spoke about. 9am tomorrow at the gym.
They’d never discussed a fitness program. Not even the fact that Bish needed one. Sarraf must have had news that he didn’t want whoever was tapping his phone to know.
“Can I crash at your place later tonight?” he asked Rachel. “I’m heading over to Calais in the morning.”
“Where are you off to now?”
“Margate.”
“Manchester, Ashford, Margate, Calais, all in twenty-four hours? No wonder you’re fainting left, right, and center.”
“Once,” he reminded her.
The Crombies were surprised to see him later that evening, but hospitable. Charlie had avoided a police record, so Bish was welcome anytime in their home.
“Has he done something else wrong?” Reverend Crombie asked.
“Not really.”
The “not really” got him an offer of a cup of tea.
“I know this may sound alarming,” Bish began, “but we think Charlie could be hiding Violette Zidane and Eddie Conlon.”
The Crombies looked at each other.
“What on earth would make you think that?” the reverend asked.
“Violette and Eddie were caught on CCTV just outside the Margate railway station.”
Now they were staring at the ceiling. Obviously Charlie’s room.
“He just got home from taking the senior citizens to bingo,” the reverend said.
“Community service with the Salvation Army,” Arthur Crombie added.
Charlie Crombie unleashed on the elderly?
Bish followed the Crombies upstairs to Charlie’s room. Arthur Crombie knocked gently. After a moment there was an exchange of a look among them all and they entered the room. The reverend gasped.
“Oh, Charlie,” she said.
45
It was a shadow Charlie had seen first, when he walked into his room the previous night. He saw it and he knew. Because he had been waiting for this, every day since Sykes had told him she’d been to visit at the hospital.
“You didn’t tell me your mum was a reverend,” she said.
And there it was. That slight lisp. That awful accent. That funny face that made him ache. Charlie wasn’t just a cheat. He was a liar as well. Because Violette Zidane wasn’t just the girl he was shagging, like he told the cop. She sort of owned his heart a little. Kind of a lot. He knew that now. He may have been angry with her, but he had never been so relieved to see someone in his life.
Eddie Conlon was studying the Tottenham posters on the wall, shaking his head. “Lame,” Eddie muttered.
She walked towards Charlie and then whack. The slap made his eyes sting.
“Do that again and I’ll slap you back,” he growled.
Eddie had tackled him to the ground in an instant. The little bastard was strong. Violette pulled the kid off.
“Did you tell everyone on the bus that I gave you a hand job?” she asked.
Eddie covered his ears.
“You did give me a hand job,” Charlie said, getting to his feet, “and you were rubbish at it.”
He could tell she wanted to hit him again. She had been rubbish at it, but he liked the fumble. He liked the inquisitive hand. Contrary to popular myth, they hadn’t shagged every night. They only did it three times. It took them that long to get it right.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “Who you were?”
“Why do you think, Charlie? Because every time I tell a guy my grandfather blew up a supermarket, I never get a second date.”
She sat down on his bed and watched Eddie touching all Charlie’s stuff, as if they both had every right to be there. Eddie held up a pair of headphones.
“So I don’t have to hear anything else that will turn my stomach,” he said before putting them on.
Charlie sat on his bed beside Violette.
“Did you kiss that girl?” she asked.
“Fucking angry at you. Meant nothing.”
“Meant everything.”
He looked at Eddie, now grooving in the corner. “Like he means everything?”
“You’re jealous of a thirteen-year-old?”
Yeah, he was.