Penance, page 14
‘Only recently, actually.’
‘I remember you two were close in first year.’
My eyes were near slits while I inspected his words for signs of– something.
‘Christ, it would have been the end-of-year party, wouldn’t it, when we last saw each other?’ The conversation turned again, and I wondered whether a memory had gripped him. He leaned closer and added, ‘That was some night, right?’
What the fuck is happening?
‘Jesus, Celia, I can’t believe I’m seeing you again…’
Why doesn’t he feel the shame of it? The weight of it?
‘You work in the city, too, then?’
Why aren’t you carrying it? Why can’t I see the mark of it on you?
I must have nodded. He pulled a card from his trouser pocket. ‘I’m in and out of the country a lot, up and down the country, too, actually.’ He laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck, as though embarrassed to admit his obvious success. But he wasn’t; he wasn’t embarrassed about anything! ‘Why don’t you give me a call some time, we can get something set up?’
I must have taken the card.
‘Great to see you, Celia, really, you’re looking so well.’ He shook his head and smiled. ‘Helluva night,’ he said, more to himself, as he walked away.
And I must have numbed by then. I must have just stood there.
I went to Lily’s – because where else could I possibly go? I rang her buzzer over and over and– She didn’t answer through the intercom. Instead, she came down to see what lunatic was responsible for sending such a frantic chorus through her otherwise quiet apartment. When she pushed the door open, I was so full of tears that I almost didn’t recognise her through the blur of my vision. But when she spoke – ‘Celia, what in God’s green…’ – I rushed up the few steps that were between us and collapsed against her. It was like a re-imagining of that very same night; the poor man’s remake.
After, I’d rushed home and found Lily already there. She must have left while I was– But now she was hanging out of her bedroom window, smoking a joint that she’d no doubt stolen from one of the boys that had hit on her during the party. She enjoyed smoking it, but she’d never kept any in the house on principle. She’d looked out of the window, still, and offered me a toke, and it was only when I didn’t answer that she turned to look and found me torn and bruising and–
‘Is that blood?’ I could remember her asking, though I couldn’t remember being aware of the slow river bleeding down me from a gash on my cheek; from a slap; from having– No, I corrected the memory, no, I hadn’t fought. Barnie had only hit me because he could – and because none of the others were prepared to stop him.
Now, Lily was crushed under my weight. Her legs buckled as we both fell to the floor like small paper dolls being folded back into each other. ‘Celia, love, tell me what’s happened?’ I sobbed against her until her white T-shirt was tie-dyed with whatever mascara I’d plucked from the bathroom box that morning; I had so many half-finished ones, but sorting through them no longer seemed like an important thing on my to-do list. ‘Celia?’ She pushed damp hair out of my face and I sobbed more and my breathing got caught in my throat like a dry meal and–
‘Quen,’ I managed, and I felt her chest empty in a sigh.
‘Celia, why?’
I shook my head. I shook my head and let strangled sounds fall out of me as though I were gutting lumps of feeling, until I eventually managed, ‘I needed to know– I needed to know who he is– who he is now.’
There was a long pause. Lily didn’t want to remind me, of course, that from her own files – from her own long conversations with local women who’d been unfortunate enough to need protection from this very man – she didn’t want to remind me that she already knew. Instead she only asked, ‘And?’
And nothing, I thought, though I didn’t admit it aloud. There was no reason to. Lily could see from the mess of me what I was thinking – what I was feeling towards him. I don’t know how much time passed before she ushered me inside and cleaned me up again – as she had done on the night that it happened.
She wiped panda prints of black from around my eyes, kissed my forehead, and helped me to apply enough make-up so that Dawn wouldn’t ask why I’d been crying – she was always the first to notice these things – when I eventually arrived home.
She kissed my forehead and told me inane details about her trip – and I said nothing at all about Quen; nothing at all about stopping her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Simon stood behind me in the mirror and took the ends of the necklace from me. When he hooked the jewellery together, he let the chain fall and wrapped his arms around my midriff instead.
I was wearing a fitted black dress with a plunge neckline, but nothing too deep because this was a dinner with the in-laws after all. Simon was wearing dark blue jeans and a plain white shirt, with a skinny black tie that was befitting of his teenage self – if the pictures I’d seen were anything to make a judgement by.
He kept hold of me for a long time and watched my reflection; our eyes were tied in the glass until eventually I cracked with a smile and shrugged him off. I still needed to finish getting ready, and it wouldn’t be long before Lily arrived. She was coming over to watch Dawn for the evening while we helped Simon’s parents celebrate another year of wedded bliss; if you could call ‘not being willing to admit defeat’ such a thing.
Simon landed on the bed and watched while I drew a neat line of kohl pencil along each eye. He looked enamoured, though I couldn’t work out why; he must have seen me do this a hundred times and more for one dinner or another. I smiled at him through my reflection and then swapped to the task of choosing eye shadow: a bronze-gold shade, with just enough sparkle to hide the fact that I hadn’t slept properly in weeks.
‘You’re as beautiful as the day I met you. Did I ever tell you that?’
I smiled. ‘That’s an old line. You can do better.’
‘I’m being serious.’ I watched as he moved to lean forwards, his arms against his thighs but his head angled to hold my stare. ‘Everything about you, Ce, it’s all so… You.’ He laughed. ‘That makes no fucking sense but I know what I’m trying to say. Maybe I’m heady from the fumes of Mum and Dad’s open bar already.’ It was their sixtieth celebration and they were hellbent on making a splash. I wondered how many people would make the ‘you’d get less for murder’ joke before the night was out. ‘I’ll try this again when I’ve got a stiff drink in me.’
I reached for the mascara that was lying on the dressing table. I’d had a clear-out; I was down to a favourite two now, and I went for the waterproof. ‘I think you’re trying to say that…’ My mouth bobbed open and closed as I applied the make-up. ‘I think you’re trying to say that you know me.’ I smiled at his reflection. ‘Right?’
He nodded. ‘Inside and out.’
I’m glad one of us does, I thought as I applied mascara to the other eye. Because I haven’t recognised myself in weeks. I hadn’t since–
The front door cut me off.
‘Lily’s here!’ Dawn’s excitement travelled up the stairs to us.
‘I’ll go.’ He stood and snuck across to plant a kiss on the base of my neck. ‘You take your time; we’ve got ages.’ He left before I could answer and seconds later I heard a cheerful, ‘Lilith!’ as he plodded down the stairs.
Lily and I hadn’t seen much of each other again – but if anyone asked, we had. She told me she’d never needed an alibi – ‘Though it doesn’t hurt to have one in your back pocket.’ – but that if I really was determined to be involved in what was happening, knowing she could count on me for her whereabouts, should anyone ask, was a good piece of insurance to have. It hadn’t even crossed my mind to say no. And I wondered what that said about me now.
I smudged eye shadow over my lids and applied a gentle shade of pink to each lip, before giving myself a pucker and a practice smile. No one will know what you are, I thought as I stared myself down. She hadn’t given me details, but there had been two nights in the last five weeks when she’d text in the early hours – ‘Party-party.’ – and I’d known. I’d lay there and stared into the judgemental dark of my ceiling, with my husband sleeping soundly next to me and my daughter, two rooms away, dreaming of nothing and everything all at once. And I’d known that there was a man dying, somewhere. And it had somehow felt just fine.
‘Babe!’ Simon’s voice snapped me out of the medley of memories. ‘Taxi!’
I grabbed my bag and switched the bedroom light off on my way out. Lily and Dawn were waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Get a look at you, beaut.’
‘Yeah, Mum, you look amazing.’ She enveloped me in a hug. ‘Daddy’s too scruffy to be a prince but you’re definitely a princess, I think.’
Lily and I locked eyes over the top of Dawn’s head. She leaned forward to kiss my cheek. ‘I don’t know, Dawnie, villains can be quite beautiful, too.’ Some understanding passed between us as she pulled away, and despite the shady comment, I found that I left the house smiling.
When we got home hours later Simon was merry-tipsy. The kind of tipsy that, had we not had Dawn and Lily to consider, would have led to loud sex in every other room of the house while we drunkenly made our way to the bedroom. He kissed at my earlobe for much of the taxi ride from party to front door, and I knew he shared the memory of those times, too.
While he fumbled with the front door key, I felt a swell of love for him – this safe and wonderful man who I could trust, wholeheartedly. I snatched the key from his hand, backed him against the bright blue panelling of the door, and kissed him like we were teenagers in a hurry. Simon’s hands grabbed at my ribcage as though ready to lift me up to him and for a second I thought, if he does, I’ll let him. I’ll have sex with my husband right against this front door. But he thought better of it, and broke our kiss open with a smile that started slow but soon overtook him.
‘Where did that come from?’
‘Do I need a reason?’ I scooted round him to the front door and unlocked it myself. ‘Maybe I just wanted my husband. Is that a crime?’ He kissed the base of my neck as I pushed through the door. ‘Besides which, even if it were a crime I reckon I’d still give it a go.’
He slapped my backside as we walked into the hallway. ‘You’re a rebel, you are.’
‘Oh, you’ve no idea.’ I was heading for the kitchen. ‘Drink?’
‘Give me a minute to kiss her goodnight.’ He had a foot on the stairs. ‘I’ll make drinks for all of us when I’m down.’ He started to climb, then, but threw down, ‘Why don’t you ask Lil if she wants to stay? It’s late for her to be out and about.’
I smiled – in part at his generosity; in part at his naiveté. ‘I’ll ask.’
Lily was sitting in the garden, leaning far back in a garden chair with her feet on the table in front of her. They were bare, and I loved the comfort it implied. She lifted a cigarette for a deep drag on it and I took a greedy inhale of the second-hand smoke before leaning over and taking it from her.
‘Hey,’ she turned, ‘you’re not meant to be smoking.’
I landed heavy in a seat opposite her. ‘It’s a treat for good behaviour.’
She smirked. ‘Is that what we’re calling it?’
‘Calling it by its actual name might make me think twice.’
Her tone changed to something more serious, then. ‘Are you struggling, Ce?’
Lily had started to ask this regularly – over the odd text exchange or even the occasional worried phone call, usually if she hadn’t been able to get hold of me for something – and I saw the worry in her, then, that she thought this would all get too much. But it worried me more than it wouldn’t. It worried me that even after Quen, even after the rest of them, none of this would stop – I would still be in this.
‘Now isn’t the time.’ I nodded to the house behind her. ‘Ears.’
‘Dawn is flat out,’ she answered, and leaned forward to take back the cigarette. She spoke through smoke, then. ‘I’m going away in a week or so again, work stuff.’
‘Work stuff that I need to know about?’
‘Not yet.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe soon?’
I leaned forward and lowered my voice. ‘Is it him?’
‘I said I’d tell you when it was.’
I was impatient for it and I’d made no secret of it, either. Seeing him had lit a fire of something in me; something I didn’t recognise, but also didn’t feel inclined to put out. Still, Lily had explained that there were other jobs to contend with; timelines to stick to; opportunities she couldn’t afford to pass up.
She’d also told me it wasn’t always death: ‘Sometimes it’s destruction, and that can take a little longer.’ But she didn’t need to give me the gory details; I’d seen them all a first time already in the files I’d filtered through. There were men in there who’d been bloodied and beaten, either first-hand by Lily or by an unnamed friend who happened to owe Lily a favour. Her pool of resources looked to be limitless and not for the first time I wondered how she’d managed to keep this a secret at all. But I wasn’t keen for secrets any longer. I wanted to know when. But not for all of them; only for him.
‘You’re pushing too much for it.’
‘Because I want it done,’ I snapped.
She watched the end of her cigarette burn for a second longer before stubbing it out on a saucer that she must have brought out with her, too. She didn’t answer for a second, but she did pull out a packet of Mayfair. She lifted the lip of the cardboard and offered me one, which I took. I could blame it on the drink in the morning, I reasoned, as I took the lighter from her, too.
‘If you rush, you make mistakes.’
‘How is it rushing after this long?’
She shrugged. ‘Quen, he’s a hard man to get close to. The others are easier.’
‘And what if I get close to him on my own?’ Though I couldn’t believe I’d asked the question, I wasn’t shocked enough at myself to take it back either.
‘Then you’ll be doing me out of a job. And landing yourself in prison.’
A huff of air escaped me.
‘Oh, because you won’t get caught?’ Lily snapped.
‘Get caught doing–’ Simon’s question broke off as he gasped and threw a hand to his mouth. ‘You naughty little shits. Give me one.’ He snatched at the packet, then clicked his fingers fast for a lighter. ‘Drunk smoking without me, Christ, I expected better.’
‘I know,’ Lily smirked, ‘just imagine what else we get up to.’
Simon held his hands up in surrender. ‘Celia has told me that’s not a thing between you two, so I think it’s best that I don’t entertain the idea for too long.’
The three of us shared in childish laughter but when it was over Lily looked at me over the smoke that the three of us were stirring. While holding my gaze, she spoke to Simon. ‘I was actually just telling Celia I’m planning to steal her for a weekend, if you and Dawn can spare her.’
‘Hm?’ Simon answered, his tone so mellow that he almost seemed disinterested in what was being said.
‘I’ve got this work thing in Leeds. I’ve heard there’s a pretty good literature festival there and,’ she snapped her fingers, ‘what do you know, I just so happen to be looking into one of the event organisers.’ She was talking to both of us now. ‘His wife thinks he’s actually there for a weekend with someone so…’ She shrugged. ‘It’s easy money for me, but could be a good chance for Celia to hand some cards out.’
‘And have a cheeky weekend away while she’s at it.’ Simon moved behind Lily and squeezed gently at her shoulders, with the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. ‘I know your game, Lilith, I know your– Shit, I said I’d do drinks.’ He made for the door. ‘Lily, you’ll stay over, won’t you? Two fingers of scotch, no ice?’ He asked both things as though they formed part of the same question, then disappeared through the door back into the house.
‘You’ll stay over?’ I asked again.
‘You’ll come to Leeds.’
I couldn’t understand where the offer had come from – or whether her reason for it was sincere, or just a well-timed lie. ‘Why am I coming?’ I asked, and Lily smiled.
‘Because I want you to see how it’s done.’
SHE
She packed two lots of ID cards inside the side pocket of her travel case: one set that boasted a dated picture of her, though one that was still passable; another that boasted a picture of Celia, pulled from the back catalogues of their friendship folders.
For two full days they would be completely different people. It was probably something she should have warned Celia of, but it would be one of many surprises for the coming days – and a relatively low-key surprise at that, in comparison to some of the other things that could happen.
She zipped the compartment closed and wedged her clothes into the bottom of the bag: black jeans; black T-shirt; black everything. Apart from a postbox red dress that she planned on wearing when she took Celia for dinner on the Saturday night. It had been a long time since they’d had a girls’ night away, and even though it was a working trip, she thought they should still make the most of some uninterrupted time together.
Besides which, this would be her first real opportunity to see how Celia felt about all this madness. It was one thing to idly agree to the prospect of a major crime; it was another thing to agree to stalking and intimidating a man, when his case folder was lying limp and open in front of you on hotel sheets.
