Authors: Kate Rhodes
Crossbones Yard (17 page)
The sister put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Stay here till you feel better.’ She closed the door and trotted away to deal with her empire.
It didn’t take long for the walls to fold in on me. Two minutes later I was galloping down the stairs, throwing up on a patch of grass. I don’t know why it upset me so much. Maybe it
was because she had been trying so hard to get home to her friends, or because I hadn’t done enough. I tried not to think about her shell-shocked mother. Leaning against the wall of the building, I rummaged for a hankie to wipe my face. Breath flowed more steadily into my lungs and gradually my thoughts stopped racing.
was because she had been trying so hard to get home to her friends, or because I hadn’t done enough. I tried not to think about her shell-shocked mother. Leaning against the wall of the building, I rummaged for a hankie to wipe my face. Breath flowed more steadily into my lungs and gradually my thoughts stopped racing.
There was no point in breaking down. That wouldn’t bring any of them back. It was too late to help the girl at Crossbones Yard, and Laura, and Suzanne Wilkes, but it wasn’t too late to stop the killer. I gritted my teeth. From now on I’d have to work harder, do everything in my power to help Burns and Alvarez track him down, before another girl was lost.
I let the cold air bring me round, then walked across the quadrangle. The climb to Bermondsey Ward took a long time, because my legs had lost their strength. When I peered through the window into Will’s room, Lola was sitting in the chair beside his bed, with her back to the door. He still hadn’t regained consciousness, but Sean had been busy. A huge wound ran down the length of his right leg, deftly sewn together, surgical cages pinning his shattered bones into place. There was no point in barging in, but I stood there watching them. Lola was holding Will’s hand, humming quietly, and my eyes filled again. She was singing him a lullaby, even though he was already asleep.
Hari didn’t answer when I called his mobile, so I left a message, explaining that I needed a week off, asking him to call me on Monday. For once, the walk home unfolded slowly, instead of racing by in a blur. The river was thick with winter fog, a pale sheet suspended above the water, shrouding the opposite bank. I did something I never normally let myself do, and stopped at the most expensive café on Butler’s Wharf. A waiter brought me hot chocolate, and I watched swathes of
fog travelling in from the sea. Lighters were sounding their horns as they lurched upstream. The combination of sugar and calm finally gave me enough strength for the last part of my walk.
fog travelling in from the sea. Lighters were sounding their horns as they lurched upstream. The combination of sugar and calm finally gave me enough strength for the last part of my walk.
When I got home, I lay on the sofa without bothering to take off my shoes.
It was dark when I woke up, and my phone was buzzing. But the tapping on my door was harder to ignore, quiet but insistent. The caller obviously had no intention of going away. The face that appeared in the spy-hole was distorted. A jumble of dark hair and shadows, a familiar scowl.
‘I think we should do this properly.’ Alvarez stood on the doormat. ‘Let’s go out for a drink, like normal people.’
He carried on standing there, not moving a muscle, while I made up my mind. He looked solid and calm, as if he could have waited until the end of time.
Alvarez’s five o’clock shadow had disappeared, and for once he looked as though he might be prepared to take no for an answer.
‘What if I said I was too tired?’ I asked.
‘Then I’d have made a wasted journey. But it wouldn’t put me off, I’d just keep turning up, like a bad penny.’ His expression was impossible to read, either grave or mocking. I let the door swing open reluctantly.
‘I’m warning you, I’m not at my best.’
‘That’s why I came.’ His stare had the same effect as always. I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed, or grab his hand and kick open the bedroom door.
The mirror wasn’t doing me any favours when I got changed. Grey shadows had pooled under my eyes, and it was hard to tell whether the butterflies in my stomach were the result of hunger or anxiety about spending an evening with Alvarez. Either way, I made sure not to look like I’d gone to any trouble, pulling on a dark blue shirt, my oldest Levi’s, flat-heeled boots. He had disappeared when I came out. Hunkered down behind the sofa, he was examining the contents of my shelves.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I asked.
‘Worrying about your musical taste.’ He held a CD by the corner as if it might explode. ‘Boy George is the biggest concern.’
‘For God’s sake. That was a birthday present when I was twelve.’
He gave a contemptuous sniff. ‘Miles Davis redeems you, but only just.’
Eventually he prised himself away from my music collection. On the way out I spotted one of Lola’s notes on the kitchen table.
‘Party at Lars’s tonight. 9 p.m. Wear your silver dress!’
A row of kisses was scrawled under her huge, looping words. A graphologist would have had a field day, defining her personality as dangerously unstable.
‘Do you have to go?’ Alvarez peered at the note over my shoulder.
‘No way. I’ve never felt less like dancing.’
He didn’t say where he was taking me, but it was a relief to be a passenger for once, not making decisions for anyone. He kept his hand in the small of my back as we walked down to the river, passing New Concordia Wharf. Light was spilling from every window. The whole of London had decided to avoid the cold, watching their state-of-the-art TVs. Fog was still hovering over the river, wrapping the boats in tissue, muffling every sound.
There was a sign for the Blueprint Café by the Design Museum, and Alvarez led me up a narrow flight of stairs. We emerged into a dimly lit room. Waiters were dashing between tables, juggling trays of drinks on their fingertips. He chose a sofa beside the huge panoramic window. On a clear night you could have counted the factories and spires as far as Whitechapel, but tonight there was just a solid mass of cloud, pressing against the glass.
‘Nothing to look at,’ I commented.
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Alvarez observed me as one of the acrobatic waiters placed the beers he had ordered on the table in front of us.
I returned his stare. ‘What do you think Burns would say, if he knew you were here?’
‘Lucky sod, probably.’ He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t get the sack, if that’s what you mean. He needs me too much.’
Fog swirled past the window, and I tried to decide what to do. We could go on flirting all night. Or I could pitch him a direct question and change the evening completely. I took a deep breath and fired.
‘So, tell me, how long ago did you lose your wife?’
His face tensed then relaxed again, like a boxer reacting to a blow. ‘I didn’t lose her,’ he said quietly. ‘She was at home when she died. Losing her makes it sound like she fell out of my pocket somewhere, without me noticing.’
I didn’t respond. Hari told me once that the best skill a psychologist can acquire is passivity. Don’t say a word when someone is in full flow, just let your body language show you’re listening.
‘She got depressed, that was the first symptom of the brain tumour. That’s how we met Tejo. The neurologist told us it was inoperable, but she counselled Luisa for months, helped her come to terms with it.’ He was watching the fog, as if he could see straight through it. ‘God knows how we’d have coped without her help.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said quietly.
‘Everyone is. When people said that at the start it used to make my blood boil. I must have pissed off a lot of friends, telling them to shove their pointless sympathy.’
‘I doubt it. You can say what you like when you’re grieving. The normal rules don’t apply.’
He rubbed his temple. ‘I’m not great at following rules at the best of times.’
‘I noticed. How long did you know Luisa?’
‘For ever.’ He said it without missing a beat.
‘Since the dawn of time?’
‘Pretty much. I met her when I was fifteen, two Spanish kids surrounded by Londoners. The only time we were apart after that was at college. I stayed in London to do law, and she went back to Spain to study interior design. Poor girl probably thought she’d seen the back of me. But when I finished my degree I wanted to do something practical instead of sitting in an office all day. We got married a few days after I joined the force. It took a lot of persuading to get her to live in England again.’
I looked out of the window. The lights on the opposite bank kept appearing then vanishing again. It was hard to imagine anyone having the guts to get married that young. Sometimes it felt like I’d never committed myself to anything in my whole life. Alvarez was lounging in his seat, observing me again.
‘You shouldn’t do that,’ I said. ‘Staring’s considered rude in this country, you know.’
‘A man can look, can’t he? And anyway, I’m not just watching, I’m waiting. There’s an outside chance you’ll tell me something about yourself.’
‘Only if I get pissed.’
Alvarez beckoned the waiter who scurried over with two more glasses of beer.
‘Go on then, drink that, and see if you can say something personal.’ He kept his arms crossed as he threw down the challenge. ‘Anything you like.’
‘I have to be in the mood.’
Alvarez rolled his eyes. ‘Have you always been locked up like this, with a big sign over your head saying do not disturb?’
‘Is that how you see me?’
He kept his arms crossed. ‘It’s not how I see you, Alice. It’s how you are.’
‘What do you want to know?’ The band around my chest started to constrict, like I was stepping into a lift.
‘Tell me about your brother.’
I took a long gulp of beer. ‘Will was a phenomenon, IQ off the scale, first-class degree in economics from Cambridge, hundreds of friends, great job in the City. You name it, he had the lot. But he overdid it, I suppose, flew a bit too near the sun.’
‘Must have been tough on your parents.’
‘My father died when he was nineteen, but they were never close.’
‘You’re kidding.’ Alvarez looked shocked. ‘If I forgot my father’s birthday my brothers would fly over and beat me to a pulp.’
I laughed. ‘Anyway, that’s enough personal stuff. One piece of information is all you get.’
He shook his head in amazement, but he listened attentively while I talked about everything else, and he almost smiled when he heard about Lola’s ecstatic new romance. And then the bar emptied and he leaned across and kissed me. Something flipped over in my chest, as if my heart was attempting a quick exit. His shoulder felt bulky and solid under my hand. God knows where his muscles came from, he claimed to be allergic to the gym.
‘You keep grabbing me, every time I see you,’ I said.
‘Someone’s got to.’
Four strong beers had gone to my head. The room shifted when I stood up, like an earthquake was in progress, but no one else had noticed. At least the fog was clearing. The barges had reappeared, moored in their usual cluster around Capital Wharf.
The fresh air and the chill hit me as soon as we got outside. It felt like I’d been sitting in a pub all day, knocking back shots.
‘Are you okay?’ Alvarez’s voice was being fed through an echo machine.
‘Dizzy. I haven’t eaten anything.’
‘You’ll have to hang on to me then, won’t you?’
He put his arm round my waist, and I got the chance to admire him without him noticing. In profile he was a bona fide Spanish aristocrat, black hair spilling across his eyes, Roman nose, full mouth. I reached for him without thinking, my hand on his lapel. He seemed surprised at first, maybe he thought he would always have to make the first move. It didn’t take long for him to kiss me back. His hand strayed inside my coat, tracing the curve of my waist, cold fingers on the nape of my neck.
‘Come home with me,’ I said.
‘You’re drunk, Alice. You should eat something then go to sleep.’
He didn’t touch me again until we got back to the square. When he bent down to kiss me goodbye his eyes were too dark to read.
‘You could change your mind,’ I whispered.
‘I’d love to, believe me.’ He kissed me again. ‘But I want you to remember me in the morning.’
He smoothed a strand of hair behind my ear. He looked like he was questioning his willpower, so I said goodnight. He walked away without glancing back.
The security door refused to close behind me, even though I wrestled with it. The mechanism was broken, so I left it ajar and reeled up the stairs. If Lola had been at home I could have spilled the beans, but she would spend the night dancing with Lars, before passing out at dawn on his bed.
I sat on one of the hard chairs in the kitchen and tried to sober up. Maybe a stern talking-to was all that was required. My bathroom routine was more vigorous than normal.
I washed my face with soap and water, scrubbed my teeth relentlessly, hoping that cleanliness could banish confusion. But I still couldn’t shake Alvarez off. He was there when I closed my eyes, impossibly macho, eyebrows raised in permanent disbelief. I knew I should call him tomorrow and tell him it had been a mistake, yet all I wanted to do was to dash out and buy new underwear, discover ways to make him smile.
I washed my face with soap and water, scrubbed my teeth relentlessly, hoping that cleanliness could banish confusion. But I still couldn’t shake Alvarez off. He was there when I closed my eyes, impossibly macho, eyebrows raised in permanent disbelief. I knew I should call him tomorrow and tell him it had been a mistake, yet all I wanted to do was to dash out and buy new underwear, discover ways to make him smile.
Something woke me while it was still dark. Maybe it was just the remains of a nightmare, but I thought I heard a sound. And then it came again, more definite this time. An odd, scuffling noise. It was the opposite of the racket Lola normally made. She always switched on the lights and clattered about, forgetting I might be asleep. Someone was standing there, planning their next move. For some reason, there was no panic at all. Maybe that’s what happens when the danger is real. I fumbled in the dark for my phone, but it must have been in the pocket of my coat, hanging in the hall. Then the sound came again. The tiptoe of someone moving silently from room to room.
I climbed out of bed as quietly as possible, then pulled on my jeans and took a chance. It took all my strength to shunt the chest of drawers in front of the door. I ran out on to the balcony. My mouth was so dry that when I yelled there was hardly any sound. No one came running, and no lights flicked on in the neighbouring flats. My breath formed clouds in front of my face, bare feet freezing on the concrete platform.
The door handle was twisting, the chest of drawers slowly edging across the floor. I had a minute, maybe less. My voice had formed a solid mass in my throat. I didn’t let myself look down, because the vertigo would paralyse me, and leave me cowering on the balcony. The image of the Crossbones girl covered in hundreds of scars made me scramble over the metal railing. Then I took a deep breath and hurled myself into space.
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