Halton Cray (Shadows of the World Book 1) (8 page)

‘For–’ She glanced at me having clearly lost her
cover. ‘For anyone to think he’s only twenty-odd. A young girl for example,
like Alex here. Well, she might think he was a nice young man for courting.
But–’

I couldn’t believe she was running with this
merely because I thought he looked younger than he was. I still didn’t believe
he could be over thirty anyway. It was easy to doubt everything that flew out
of this woman’s mouth.

‘–But he’s too old for a boyfriend to a twenty-one-year-old
girl,’ she continued. ‘Don’t you think, Frances?’

‘I don’t think age has much to do with it, unless
it’s against the law. My Terry is seven years my senior, it makes no difference
to me.’

‘Seven years is not much when you’re older, I
agree.’

She changed the subject and after a few minutes
seemed to have forgotten accosting me altogether with her strange warnings.
Placing the package for Thom on the coffee table, she sat at Frances’s side.

‘Did I mention that Tess’s mother was here
yesterday?’

‘Doreen,’ chuckled Frances. ‘I was with you when
she arrived. She came to collect her things.’

‘Oh, yes, of course you were. Did you see how
nervous she was of the place?’

‘I don’t blame her considering.’

‘She told me that Tess’s hair has grown grey at
the roots, just in the front, and she
still
won’t say what she’s so
afraid of.’

‘But–’ Frances paused and looked to me. ‘You won’t
let any of this worry you, will you, Alex?’

I shook my head.

She continued, ‘But her mother’s convinced now
that it wasn’t anything ghostly. She thinks that whatever happened here was
very real.’

‘Well, you know what I think. It’s obvious to me
it must’ve been–’

‘
Doreen
!’ She shook her head. ‘You remember
Rebecca?’

Doreen’s eyes darted to mine and she closed her
mouth.

Very soon, she started relating some newer gossip
she had, about a married couple she knew and how they were close to finalising
a divorce.

‘Not the sort of thing you did in my day…’

I got up to leave, giving Frances a sympathetic
smile as I closed the door behind me. I wasn’t surprised that she liked Mrs
Evans just because I didn’t. She liked everyone.

With only an hour left of my shift I stopped in
the corridor outside the staffroom, where the run of windows overlooked the
main courtyard. The lamps were on outside. A group of teenagers hung around out
there, having lured some of the geese through the alley with bread. I watched,
resting my hot cup of tea on the bricked window ledge. I could feel the cold
air coming off the sheet of glass in front of me: the steam from my tea hardly
touched it. It looked sharply cold out tonight, undoubtedly due to the
cloudless day. The teens looked like smokers where their breaths were thick
with vapour.

I noticed two burly deliverymen wheeling a crate
through the alley on an industrial trolley. Following behind the men was Thom,
who opened one of the connecting doors for them. The deliverymen were trying to
wheel the crate over the step, but the wide trolley repeatedly wedged itself in
the doorframe. I noticed their heavy breaths now as they panted away. Thom
seemed to be telling them to unload the crate there. As he spoke, I observed
that not a line or curl of smoke issued from his mouth, as it did from the
others. Did he have breath? I could see that his chest rose and fell with the
regularity of a pendulum. I wasn’t going to let that ghost talk carry me away
again. After all, there was his shadow, doing nothing unusual, outstretched
behind him just as it should be under the lamplight. The deliverymen took the
heavy looking crate at each end and laboured to lift it, placing it down just
inside the door. Thom signed their paperwork before tipping them with a folded
note, and they left. It surprised me to see Thom, athletic as he was, lift that
crate effortlessly as if it contained hot air and carry it through to a
storeroom on the other side of the building. The teens paid no attention to him
as he then crossed the alley back towards his office.

I looked up to the sky to think carefully on the
things I’d been seeing lately. I caught sight of the moon moving into the frame
of the courtyard’s tiled rooftops. Wearing that same tired expression, her
features carved out by those lunar maria, against a background of inky blue. I
went to pick up my tea, and not watching what I was doing, I knocked my hand
straight into it. I felt the heat on my knuckles and anticipated a thorough
scalding. Instinctively I looked down – it sat there upright, brimming with
tea, as if I’d imaged it. A shadow had fallen across the window ledge.

‘Have you taken your medication today?’ Thom’s
voice made me look up.

‘I’m not
on
medication.’

‘Then that’s the problem, right there.’

He looked at the tea. Those profound eyes stole
back to meet mine. ‘Did you burn yourself?’

‘I… No, I didn’t.’

‘You’ve not got your car?’ He changed the subject
but his tone remained concerned. ‘Excuse me, your stepbrother’s car?’

‘Not tonight.’

‘Confiscated, was it?’

‘
No
.’

‘And how will you get home?’

‘Bus.’

He pulled a half-tormented face; the other half
expressed that I was in the wrong. ‘Can I give you a lift?’

The offer floored me. ‘That’s okay, but thanks.’

His head turned towards the staffroom and back to
me.

‘Goodnight,’ he rapped out, before walking away.

Mrs Evans came out. She was about to upbraid me, but
luckily the teens in the courtyard caught her eye.

‘What the hell are they doing!’ she spat, rushing
down the corridor. I slipped back to my desk and didn’t witness them undergo
her lectures.

On the bus home I found I had a missed call from
Mark. I wasn’t in the mood for his excuses. Though having had him pass sentence
on me, it got me thinking. I became to my surprise overcome with guilt. Had I
judged Thom as harshly as Mark had judged me? I had hit him with the jeep, so
his reaction wasn’t so undeserved.

I rang the bell for my stop. It was a ten-minute walk
home. I hurried since the mist had followed me from the Cray. Even though it
was only half past seven, it made the streets look and feel more dangerous. I
felt watched. The roads were so quiet that I could hear the surveillance camera
at the end of my road turning in my direction as I approached, like some
Orwellian truth.

By the time I reached home I’d decided to make a
concerted effort with Thom on Thursday. There was no denying I’d been
impatient, even unfriendly towards him.

I threw my keys on the kitchen counter and tugged
off my jacket when the phone rang: it was my sister, Holly. With six years and
four hundred miles between us, the little contact we had was precious. In a
good imitation of a Glaswegian accent she told me that her boyfriend had proposed.

‘And you’ve accepted?’

She laughed hard. ‘Course I have,
Dodo
. I
love him.’

‘I was just checking. Congratulations! But I guess
this means you won’t be moving back.’

‘Well, I asked Euan for his thoughts on long
distance marriage but he drew a blank. You know you’re always welcome up here,’
she added sincerely. ‘
Hello
? You still there? Why so quiet? Did I catch
you in a funny mood?’

‘No, it’s nothing, just…’ My mind was wandering
back to Thom. I realised how troubled I really was over my behaviour towards
him. Though I could admit I’d seen things I couldn’t explain, I wasn’t sure how
much came from the influence of others. The way they looked at him, and talked
about him–

‘What’s up?’ she probed.

‘I don’t know. I think I’m just bored, Holly.
Sometimes I think I invent things to keep my mind active.’

‘Like what?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I suppose I just want
something to happen.’

‘I know what you mean. That’s why I went
travelling. Just be careful what you wish for.’

Nine

‘Any
man can make mistakes, but only an idiot persists in his error.’

– Cicero

I happily discovered Mrs
Evans had Thursday booked off on annual leave, but I also learned I’d be stuck
in the shop all afternoon. Susan (whom Stacey had begun calling ‘silent Su’)
said that
Doreen
wanted me to cash up today, as I’d not yet done
unsupervised.

Whenever I passed through the Cray’s corridors, I
expected to bump into Thom. Despite some nervousness at the thought of seeing
and hearing him, I knew I’d feel better once I had; once I’d said hello
genuinely, and responded to a question without sighing irritably. How curiosity
had nuzzled up to me so suddenly on this subject! Deciding to get it over with
already, I stepped round to his office with the intention of just saying hello.
It was empty. I wandered a few galleries, the Great Hall, and– well, wasn’t it
just the way of things? All those times I dreaded seeing him and yet saw him
nearly every time. Now I was here determined to see him and he’s not around.

I began questioning my motives for wanting to see
him, while musing on what sort of man I thought he was.
Why
would a
mature, intelligent, successful man like Thom care whether some
twenty-one-year-old girl like me was nice or not to him? Why would he want me
seeking him out? As if better company wasn’t available. Perhaps the special
attention he seemed to pay me wasn’t so marked. Perhaps it was just in his
character with everyone – except Mrs Evans, who disliked him, and Stacey who
said he terrified her.

Having just balanced the till, I caught sight of a
familiar man standing in the shop doorway. I felt his stare on me.
Disappointment replaced my nervousness the moment I looked over to him.

‘Hello, Mark,’ I said coolly.

He wore guilt, embarrassment and apology rolled
into one powerless expression. Edging forward he returned an uncomfortable
‘Hi.’

There was no need to ask how he knew I worked
here. It was clear that along with an in-depth account of my history, Stacey
had given him this information, and probably drew him a map. Though I didn’t
show it, it surprised me he’d come here to face his demons.

He was stylishly dressed and had gelled his hair –
a clear effort to look good. He smelt good too. This wouldn’t make any
difference with me.

‘I’m so,
so
, sorry,’ he said cringingly.
‘Alex, I made a stupid mistake.’

‘Very stupid.’ I raised my eyebrows, and
determined to be civil, but only to the point of genuine understanding.

‘I’m sorry for just turning up like this as well,
but I had to tell you in person how sorry I am. How are you?’

‘I’m very well, thanks.’ I smiled, reiterating his
question, to which he replied the same though in a lesser degree of
contentment. Once we’d done with the exchange of tedious, and a little awkward,
greetings I referred back to what this was about, as it seemed he was going to
take his time skirting around it and I wanted to go home.

‘Well, Mark, I appreciate your coming here to
apologise, but–’

‘I did call but got no answer. I thought you
might’ve been too angry with me. I deserve it. I can’t believe I ruined
things.’

It was clear that his apology was not for
misjudging and mistreating me, but for losing something for himself through
that. It wasn’t for any part that had actually offended me. Therefore, I came
to the material point.

‘The fact is, Mark, if you hadn’t heard another
account of me from Stacey you wouldn’t be here right now. I would never have
known why you treated me like that. You would have qualified a mistake.’ – He
hung his head while I lectured him. – ‘It’s bad enough to judge someone on gossip,
but you punished me too with insults.’

‘I know, I know,’ he said penitently, biting on
his thumbnail. ‘I tried not to judge on what I’d heard. I honestly took you out
with the intention of getting to know you, because I wanted to come to my own
conclusions. I really liked you – a lot. And you liked me too?’

What! Did he think I was going to stand here and
massage his ego?

‘I wanted to see you, Alex, for who you really
were, but all the things I’d heard kept playing in my head.’

‘Then you should have said something.’

‘I agonized over that all evening, but it just
seemed so uncomfortable to ask–’

‘Uncomfortable for you,’ I butted in and then bit
my tongue.

‘Well, yeah.’ He shifted awkwardly. ‘But it would
have been uncomfortable for you too, to mention stuff like that. Obviously, now
I know I could have said something and we’d have cleared it all up straight
away. Look, I didn’t mean to judge, but to be honest it scared me, the things I
got told. Some of it was so disgusting! And, well, he said you dated for a long
time.’

‘Well, you got me there,’ I said, ‘because if
dating Owen for four months wasn’t long, it certainly felt it. But considering
I was sixteen and he was my first boyfriend, I don’t think it’s too bad a
timeframe to realise what kind of person I was with. And didn’t you become
suspicious, Mark, that he dated this
disgusting
girl for a long time?’

‘I did wonder, but thought he was probably a bit
of an idiot.’

‘Ironic.’ I smiled. ‘But while I’m sure there’s no
one better for a reference than an ex, you’ve probably realised by now that
Owen can’t be counted on for the truth?’

‘Yeah, I realise that. Alex, I’m sorry.’

‘Yes, you said. Does that mean you’ll be telling
your friends at The Grapevine that I’m not a sexual predator, drug dealer,
stalker, and whatever else he said?’

‘Hey, I never told anyone you–’ He paused, seeing the
knowledge of it written across my face. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t believe I let him
convince me,’ he sighed, squeezing his temples. ‘I was just so disappointed
after hearing it, right before meeting up with you again. The truth is I didn’t
sign up to that dating agency. One of my mates did it for a laugh, and I felt
bad so I went along with it. But then I found you were different. I’ve been on
so many dates with girls who turned out to be, well, not very ladylike.’

‘Mark, can I give you some advice?’

‘Sure.’

‘You can’t expect any woman to be a lady if you’re
not being a gentleman, and vice versa.’

‘Yeah. I really messed it up.’

He went on apologising and it wasn’t difficult to
feel bad for him. Perhaps he couldn’t help lacking the capacity to think for
himself. Owen had after all dragged him into something ugly and maybe he just
didn’t know any better. Nevertheless, it was impossible to let that faze me in
being straight with him.

‘Well, it’s late and I need to get going,’ I
stated.

‘Are you driving?’

‘No. I’m getting the bus tonight.’

‘Can I give you a lift home?’ On seeing my face
ready to decline he immediately added, ‘You only live a few streets from me,
remember? You’ll be home faster and safer. No strings of course! It only makes
sense since I’m going that way.’

I’m sure it did make sense to him if he thought I
might buckle and give him another chance. Although I’m all for second chances,
I no longer liked him in that way. It was true though that geographically it
did make sense. I would only agree after making it perfectly clear that
friendship was all I had to offer.

He waited for me to lock up. As we left and
entered upon the pathway towards the car park I realised I’d forgotten my
scarf. I asked him to wait while I went back for it. My eyes darted up to the
mullioned window on the first floor landing. I caught a glimpse of a figure in
it, which moved away as I looked. Was the light from the streetlamp bouncing
off the glass, creating shadows as I moved?

When I returned with my scarf in hand, Mark
lingered on the path waiting for me. ‘Ready?’ he said cheerfully. I nodded and
we walked to the deserted car park, save for his white VW Golf. It was parked
facing the house in view of the main entrance. He followed me round to the
passenger side to open my door. He just had to push it a bit further.

‘Thanks,’ I said, indifferently, climbing in. I couldn’t
afford to give him any encouragement, though I appreciated not having to get the
bus home. While he went round to his side, I put on my seatbelt. Looking up I
noticed that figure in the window again; it solidified. I had a clearer view
from here. It was more salient now at this distance with no direct light from
the lamps dancing off the glass at this angle. I felt as if it stared at me,
though I couldn’t make out any features. The shape of the silhouette was
familiar, a recognizable height and breadth. I felt certain it was Thom.