A Personal Favour, page 2
At first, he’d refused to let her push him saying he needed to learn himself, but that would take time. While he was determined, she saw his frustration and the frustration turned to anger if she sought to step in and help. There were times when she’d sit endlessly waiting for him to build up strength to push himself on. All he had to do was let her push him, take him around places. After all, they were still together, still a partnership, still a team, and hopefully one day, lovers again.
Kirsten heard the gurgle of the coffee, estimated there must be enough in there for a cup, and turning, made herself one. She could hear the shower still running and so resumed her position, looking around the open flat in front of her. It was on the ground floor but had plenty of security features as well. Just because Craig was maimed didn’t mean that their old life would go away completely. Kirsten was always on the lookout.
They now had the worry of bills for although they had put a little aside, she would need to return to work of some sort. She reckoned they had maybe another three or four months before finances would start to become tight. There was no disability payoff from the service, for Craig had left it along with her. No one would admit to the incident out in Zante that had caused these troubles. There was that horrific moment that she replayed in her mind, on the point of losing him to the Russians, and then watching the missile that took out the boat he was on.
Kirsten adjusted her dressing gown, feeling a little cold and wanting to get into the shower. In the old days, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She’d have walked in, stripped off and joined Craig. That was something that happened several times a week in those heady days when they were just enjoying each other, finding their love. She’d tried to walk in the other day, but he told her to get out. Even lovemaking, if you could call it that, had changed, for all he seemed to be able to do was lie there, like her personal mannequin. Whether that would change in the future, who knew?
Maybe when he regained his strength he would be able to not seem like a patient, but it was getting to her. The fact the intimacy had been lost, that he wouldn’t allow her to be that way with him while not allowing her to help him. She understood that to a degree; he’d always been an independent person. When you worked for the service, you were taught that. You learned how to look after yourself, but nothing prepared you for something like this.
There was a thud from the shower and a yell, and Kirsten sat down the coffee and ran through to the shower room. Opening the door, she saw Craig on the floor of the shower, struggling to raise himself back up onto the little seat that he occupied when showering.
‘Get out; I’m fine,’ he said.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Kirsten. ‘I can give you a hand.’
‘No, I’m fine. I’m bloody fine. Just leave me be.’
‘It’s not helping. It’s okay. I can help you. This is us. This isn’t the world outside. This is you and me. We have to help each other.’
‘What help do you need?’ he spat. ‘Was it you that got kidnapped? Was it you that got taken away? No. You had to come and save me. Look at me. I can’t do bloody anything.’
He threw a fist at the shower door hitting it with such force that Kirsten was worried he might crack it.
‘You can beat the hell out of that if you want. Doesn’t make any difference. Why don’t you let me come in with you? Let me shower you. We used to do that. Remember?’
She’d hoped that the memory might have spawned a happier face, but instead, she could see the bitterness. He waved the hand at her, motioning for her to get out, and she turned away, feeling the tears rolling down her face. She wouldn’t do that to him. She wouldn’t cry in front of him, for he was suffering enough.
Closing the shower door behind her, she walked back to take up her coffee again. Would they ever be the same again? Was there any way in which Craig could be the same? He’d been such a gentleman, such a considerate person. Now, there was something in him that she really didn’t like. He would take no pity from her, which was understandable for there was a pride in him, but she’d expected that he would’ve coped better.
Underneath, Kirsten was a fighter brought up in the mixed martial arts ring where you just kept going until they hit you with that punch that puts you down for the count. She saw Craig’s condition as the same thing, but he didn’t and she didn’t understand why she couldn’t see his side. He wouldn’t tell her his view, his trouble. He just banished her from his life for now. Even at night in the bed, he wouldn’t accept her cuddling.
The telephone ringing snapped her from her thoughts, and she strolled over, picking it up and walking to the window of the flat.
‘You’re through to Craig and Kirsten’s,’ she said, trying to sound cheery but knowing she’d failed.
‘I need to speak to Craig. He’s an old friend.’
‘He’s currently in the shower; this is Kirsten. You can tell me.’
‘No, I can’t. I need to speak to Craig specifically.’
‘Can I ask who’s calling then?’ asked Kirsten.
‘No, no, best I just speak to Craig. He’ll know what to do.’
Kirsten bit her lip not wanting to tell the person on the other end of the phone that Craig can barely shower himself at the moment, never mind work out anybody else’s problems. Instead, she turned and knocked the door of the shower room. On opening it, she found him back up in his seat, washing down.
‘Call for you. Won’t speak to me—said they have to speak to you. No name.’
She saw Craig’s eyes narrow, and he turned around, switching off the shower. She went to get him a towel, but he told her to leave it and she watched as using his hands, he dragged himself through and picked the towel off the rail. He was unbalanced as he dragged himself, sitting on his bottom. At one point he toppled. Once again, he refused help and once he had a towel wrapped round him, he took the phone off her, almost dismissing her out of the room.
Back in the main living area of the flat, Kirsten walked to the window again and stared out at the Inverness street across from her. She used to like a high-up flat. You could see really well, whereas here you just saw across the road. You also had to be more careful now with how you walked around the flat for the windows were copious and large, letting in large amounts of light, but also giving a view from the street for anyone walking past.
If they had been intimate, Kirsten would be worried that she’d leave curtains open. That’d been her habit when she lived up in higher flats, not having to worry about anyone peeking in. She realised the train of thought was just trying to block out the way Craig was and the call he was having. If it was somebody in trouble, he wouldn’t be able to help. He’d feel more useless; of that, she was sure. It was twenty minutes before the shower room door opened and she watched him haul himself up into his chair and begin to wheel himself round towards the sofa. He’d managed to put on a pair of pants and a t-shirt.
‘Who was that?’
‘Old friend. His daughter’s out in Alaska and she’s gone missing; wants me to go out there.’
‘And?’
‘Well, I can hardly go, can I?’ he barked.
‘No, you can’t at the moment,’ said Kirsten. ‘Your head’s not clear for one.’
He snorted. ‘Of course, it’s not bloody clear. What can I do for him, eh?’
‘You could go and check it out,’ said Kirsten. ‘You could go and find out what was happening. You’ve got a brain.’
‘How can I damn well go?’ asked Craig. ‘Can barely operate around this bloody flat.’ She watched as the phone sailed out of his hand, missing her by about two feet and smashing on the far wall. ‘Told him you’d have to go.’
Kirsten looked at Craig. ‘Me? How can I go? You need me. You need me here. You need me.’
‘Because I’m some sort of invalid? Because I’m some sort of . . .’
‘Because you need help,’ said Kirsten. ‘You need somebody to walk you through this.’
‘That’s going to be you?’ he said. ‘You’re going to walk me through this?’
‘You know I will. I’m here for the long haul, Craig. I’m here beside you.’
‘I don’t bloody well want you beside me; do you not get that?’
Kirsten felt tears coming through her eyes and her hands were beginning to shake. What was he saying?
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Every time I look at you, do you know what I see? I don’t see a partner. I see someone who reminds me of what I used to be.’
‘We were always more than that. We weren’t just two agents; we were more.’
‘Maybe we were,’ he said. ‘Now, I’m just the invalid. I’m just the guy who can’t do things. You’re the one who’s going to have to go out and get a job and feed me. I still struggle to reach that cooker properly. Still struggle to do anything. I struggle to have a dump in the toilet.’
‘I still want you. I want you. I want the Craig who’s in there, the one I used to know.’
‘You think he’s coming back? You think I’m just going to be the way I was? Look at me. Look at me. The state of me. You need to go. He needs help and I can’t give it.’
‘No,’ said Kirsten, ‘people can take care of their own problems. We’ve got our problem.’
‘Yes, I’m a problem now, aren’t I? I’m not an adventure. I’m not a wild party. I’m just somebody that needs taking care of.’
‘I will take care of you,’ said Kirsten. ‘Whatever it takes.’
‘No, you won’t,’ said Craig suddenly. ‘I need space. I need bloody space now. I can’t have you all over me. Every time I look at you, I hate what I am. Do you understand that?’
Kirsten didn’t and the tears streamed down her face.
‘I need space. I need space to deal with me, so you are going to bloody Alaska. You’re going to go and help my friend find his daughter.’
Chapter 03
Kirsten stepped off the bus at Inverness Airport and looked at the metal-sheet-clad terminal as the rain bounced off it. She was going to travel light to Alaska and buy some clothing on arrival. She’d checked the internet and it would be cold, and she reckoned they would have the best gear for it. She was in her boots, black jeans, black T-shirt and leather jacket, feeling as comfortable as she could but inside, she was falling apart. Craig hadn’t even hugged her when she’d left and behind the eyes that only a few months ago would have shone for her, there was a near hatred of who she was. Now she was going to have to be that very person to help Craig’s friend.
She had called Mr. Carson, Melissa’s father, and had spoken with him in some detail on the phone. His daughter, only nineteen, had gone out to Alaska to work with a newspaper, an opportunity to gain experience, find stories, but she hadn’t spoken to him now in over a week. The editor had called, telling him that she’d gone missing and something in his voice had bothered the man. His daughter had said she was onto a story, one that involved outsiders and possibly might have been dangerous. That was the last time they’d spoken—the very night she had vanished.
Kirsten had no idea where she’d gone, but she was living in Kyler’s Peak, a place Kirsten didn’t know. The map showed it to be on the way to everywhere. Although the town wasn’t large, Melissa had been a Birmingham girl, bright, intelligent, and from all that her father was saying, smelt trouble. The man had no sway with the US authorities, but he’d been a friend of Craig’s and knew the position that Craig had held before he’d left the service. Unfortunately, he hadn’t heard what had happened to Craig, but he was most grateful when Kirsten said she would go. Before she got on the bus, however, Kirsten had phoned a friend asking him to meet her at the airport.
The terminal wasn’t a large one, and Kirsten had no problems identifying her friend, sitting with a coffee behind a table in the cafe area. As she approached, she could see the worry on his face.
‘It’s been a while,’ said Seoras Macleod, standing up in his white shirt and tie, his coat lying over his chair. Kirsten leaned forward as he embraced her, holding her tight, but when he went to break off, she held onto him.
‘Seoras,’ she said. ‘He’s gone.’ Then she cried, clinging onto Macleod, crying.
In his time as her boss, Macleod had never been a touchy-feely character. He was strong, determined, possibly a little arrogant, but right now he didn’t flinch, letting her cry her eyes out before she broke off and sat down.
‘I see things are not good,’ he said. ‘Can I make them worse with a rather terrible cup of coffee from this establishment?’
Kirsten gave a small laugh. ‘Yes, you can,’ she said. ‘Are you suffering another one?’
‘I’ll join you for one but it’s just for you. Personally, if they came in here and finished off whoever does this coffee, I wouldn’t be unsympathetic towards the killer.’
She watched as he strode over to the counter. He was so particular about his coffee. The stuff probably wasn’t that bad, just wasn’t what he wanted. There seemed to be an ability to forgive anything except bad coffee. When Macleod returned apologising and placing a cup of coffee in front of her, she watched as he didn’t sit back in the chair, but leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying her.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said.
‘Craig’s missing half his legs. That’s what’s wrong.’
‘He’s been missing them for a while now. Thought you had the new flat. You were settling in. It’s not his legs, is it?’
‘It is his legs. He doesn’t feel like a proper person anymore. He doesn’t feel like an agent.’
‘He’s not an agent. Neither are you. You’re both out of that, aren’t you? Although you seem to be rushing off somewhere, leaving behind a man that you’re telling me isn’t right.’
‘I forgot I was sitting in front of a detective,’ she said sharply.
‘I don’t need to be a detective to work that out. You called me before running off on a plane. If you’re calling me, you need help. You wouldn’t have called me to cry on my shoulder, even if you wanted to. You wouldn’t have thought I would let you.’
‘I need a favour,’ said Kirsten. ‘I need you to look in on Craig; his mind’s dark at the moment, very dark. He’s struggling and he wants me out of the way.’
‘Out of the way?’ asked Macleod. ‘Why?’
‘Because, well, he says he looks at me . . .’
‘And he sees everything that he used to be.’
‘Exactly,’ said Kirsten. ‘Exactly. What am I meant to do? Chop my legs off? This is who I am. He fell in love with this person, with me. He didn’t need to be like me back then.’
‘No, but you were equals.’
‘We’re equals now. I need help, too. I need him.’
‘He doesn’t see that,’ said Macleod. ‘He may never see that. Something you’re going to have to live with. He might come out of it. He might not. The way we picture ourselves is important.’
‘I just want to hold him. I just want to . . .’
‘Do everything for him? It’s not what he needs,’ said Macleod. ‘You need to understand this is his journey. Sometimes we must walk our own line, despite all the people that we love around us. It doesn’t necessarily mean that they get to help us. I guess we ultimately stand alone.’
Kirsten’s hand trembled on the table as she thought through the comment. She picked up the coffee cup, trying to steady her hand, and raised it to her lips as if it was the first time she’d ever tried to drink. Once the cup had reached the right place, she drank deeply and then put the cup down quickly.
‘Blooming hot,’ she said. ‘Why do they make it so hot?’
‘Because they don’t know what they’re doing with the coffee here. Told you that.’
‘Will you look in on him? He might listen to you.’
‘Because I’m not a charge-around secret agent? In fact, physically compared to you, I’m nothing. So, you think he’ll respond to me instead?’
‘I don’t know, Seoras. He’s not responding to me, is he? He smashed the phone, threw it across the room when he couldn’t go and help his friend.’
‘His friend? That’s where you’re going?’
‘Friend’s daughter is missing in Alaska.’
‘Have you contacted the authorities? Do you want me to do that? I can probably get a link through somewhere, find someone.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘The authorities there reckon she probably just skipped town, not coming back. I’m not sure how cooperative they’re going to be. I’m not sure if they’re involved or not. I’m not sure of anything until I get out there. I’m going in cold and I’m going in quiet. This is reconnaissance until I find out what’s going on. If I need you, I’ll call you.’
‘Very good,’ said Macleod. ‘In the meantime, I’ll check up on him.’
‘I went into this secret life,’ she said. ‘How come I don’t trust anyone in it, but I trust you? I would trust Hope. I would trust Ross. Trust the team from the old days without a moment’s hesitation, the team I had, but I don’t trust my team in the service.’
‘It’s just a hard time,’ said Macleod. ‘You need to go somewhere and focus. You need to get away from Craig for a bit, too. You’re not neglecting him. You’re doing what he wants you to do, and I’ll pop in. I’ll keep an eye.’ The pair sat in silence, Kirsten drinking up her coffee before hearing her flight on the Tannoy.
‘I haven’t even checked in. I better go and do that. Look, Seoras,’ she said standing up, and watching the man stand up to meet her, ‘thank you. Thank you as always.’
She put out her hand to shake it, but he stepped forward and hugged her. ‘Whatever you need, you know I’m here. Take very good care.’
Kirsten fought to stop herself from crying again and made it to the ticket desk and then through security before she felt a flood of tears overcome her as she sat in departures. It wasn’t long to wait, however, before she was boarding a plane, her eyes still foggy and crying. As she mounted the steps up into the plane bound for London Heathrow, she saw another man also boarding . . . and he was staring at her.
