Way Beyond A Lie, page 22
‘So, is it a one pint long story or a few pints long story?’
Ross laughed out loud, startling a couple of sparrows foraging on the paving slabs around their table. They vanished into the shrubbery in the blink of an eye then hopped out the other side a few moments later to try their luck underneath another table.
‘Christ! You don’t beat about the bush, do you?’
Alex shrugged. ‘Well, I kinda figure either you’re going to tell me or you’re not. And if you’re not, it’ll save me the bother of waiting. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. After all, it’s not every day I meet a guy who’s being spied on by his own phone.’
‘Oh, what the hell.’ Ross pulled his chair closer to the table, cradling his glass with both hands. ‘But I do want to ask you a bit more about these two apps. I’m keen to find out how they work.’
‘Sure. It’ll be interesting to see how they fit into this story of yours.’
Including the time for all Alex’s questions, the telling of Ross’s tale took until well into a second round of beers and the light was fading fast. A row of spiders’ web encrusted lamps on the external wall of the inn cast a glow so faint it wouldn’t have attracted even a sharp-eyed moth.
‘So, I could have mentioned your phone to Martin after all?’
‘You could. And you wouldn’t have had to set up this clandestine little meeting.’
‘Are you sorry I did?’
‘It was better than going home to an empty house.’
Alex spun a beermat at him, just missing his left ear. ‘Cheeky bugger. And, might I remind you, I’m now miles from home, I can’t drive my car because I’m well over the limit, and I’m bloody starving.’ She turned to peer through a window into the pub. It was now far brighter inside than out. ‘Are they still serving food in there, do you reckon?’
‘Probably.’ Ross grabbed a handful of his jacket and stood up. ‘Let’s go inside and ask. It’s a bit cold out here now, anyway.’
Alex rarely felt the cold but she gathered up her things and followed him inside, at the same time telling him to ‘Man up, you big girl’s blouse.’
While she was laying waste to a plate of steak and ale pie with all the trimmings, Ross sneaked a closer look at his dining companion. The general picture remained the same: brunette, cheery smile and an engaging personality. But now, some of the finer detail was beginning to emerge. He spotted her nails were painted black. It would have been impossible to have missed that. But now, he saw how perfectly manicured they were. No chips or scuffs as far as he could see.
Although at first he thought brunette, her hair was darker than that. Not quite black, almost a blue-black. Highlights, possibly? Ross had no idea if highlights that made hair darker were still called highlights, it simply had never occurred to him. He might have found her habit of fiddling frequently with her hair irritating in different circumstances but realised he liked the almost sensual movement it brought to her upper body. But no matter how much she messed with it, her hair always fell back into the same place.
They’d just finished their main course when the pub door swung open and a long line of women trooped in. The door was held open until the last one crossed the threshold. A cold draught slid in alongside them. From the snatches of conversation Ross picked up, the women had been at a talk on local history in the kirk up the road.
‘Oh fuck, no. I don’t believe it,’ he groaned. The colour vanished from Ross’s face.
Before Alex even had the chance to ask him what was wrong, one of the women detached herself from the line and arrowed for their table like a guided missile. She wore a dark grey jacket and skirt, and high heels that made her ankles wobble. An incredibly insincere smile was plastered to her face.
‘Well, hello Ross.’ Her smile morphed into a sneer as she looked Alex up and down. ‘I hoped I might see you in here tonight but I didn’t think you’d have company. And so young, too. Not learned your lesson from the last disaster then, eh?’
The combined heat from their faces would have melted a church candle at fifty paces, and while Ross was mortified and couldn’t summon any form of cutting retort, Alex was raging internally. You’ll get a slap if you keep that up, you fat old cow.
Ross cleared his throat as he sought to recover the situation. ‘Alexis, this is Sally. She’s, em, a friend of mine.’ He waved a hand weakly over the table. ‘Sally—’
But he didn’t manage to complete the introduction as Sally butted in, clearly not interested in learning who his dining companion was. ‘When Ross says I’m a friend of his, that’s rather an understatement, you know.’ She deliberately turned away from Alex. Sally laid her hand on Ross’s shoulder. ‘My husband and I have been friends with Ross and his darling late wife, Liz, for about … how long is it, Ross? Must be about twenty years, yeah?’ Now she turned her head, and only her head, back to Alex. ‘But I’m sure he will have told you about both of his wives, my dear, especially the foreign tart who conned him out of all of his money. She was probably about the same age as you, now I come to think about it.’
Alex had recovered her composure. ‘Well, it’s only our third date so I haven’t heard all the gory details yet, Sarah—’
‘It’s SALLY!’
‘Whatever.’ Alex pointed, as the last of Sally’s group crowded through a door marked Private Room. ‘Better be careful they don’t sneak out the back door while your back’s turned, em …’ She snapped her fingers a few times. ‘Sally.’
The woman glared an arsenal of daggers then turned and barged off between the tables.
‘What’s her problem then?’ asked Alex.
‘Oh, that’s just Sally. She’s been a bit funny with me since Liz died. I’ve no idea why.’
‘It’ll be because she fancies you.’
Ross had just taken a drink, most of which he spluttered into the palm of his hand. ‘What? Sally and me? What makes you think that?’
‘It’s a woman thing.’ She picked up the dessert menu. ‘But be careful if you ever do hook up with her because that’s some size of an arse she’s carting around. Could cause you serious damage.’
Ross stifled a laugh, and studied her as she perused the menu. He noticed she had several piercing marks all down the curve of her left ear, yet she only wore one plain gold hoop in her earlobe. It was about the circumference of a £1 coin. The other marks didn’t look as though they had healed up and he wondered just how many pieces of jewellery that ear would normally support. He would never have commented but as time passed by he identified similar marks on her other ear, below her bottom lip and on each of her eyebrows, which were also shaped beautifully. Ross figured, correctly, that multiple piercings and corporate image didn’t go together.
So now he paid more attention to her face. Cobalt eyes, soft features and lips ideally suited for … well, let’s not get into that, Ross my boy. She has to be at least fifteen years younger than you, and you know how the last one turned out.
Then he caught himself scrutinising her as she walked to and from the ladies. And then he felt bad. Really bad. Alex was good fun, she had a quirky sense of humour, and he was enjoying her company. Of course, she couldn’t know what he was thinking but she didn’t deserve to be assessed like some prize ewe at a county fair. So he blushed, and the prize ewe clocked it immediately. Damn!
‘Still thinking about Sally’s arse?’
Ross suppressed a laugh and said no. Alex gave him an odd look but didn’t pursue it. Then he remembered to ask about the tracker apps. She explained how they worked although she admitted she wasn’t an expert. He asked if it would be possible to find out which phone his was linked to but she thought not. And although he would check if he had any record of the number the texts were being copied to, she was fairly sure it would be a Pay-As-You-Go SIM in a throwaway mobile.
‘So, apart from actually finding these apps on my phone, there’s nothing else we can do?’
‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘Oh well. C’est la vie. Can you delete them?’
She laughed. ‘Of course. Give me your phone again.’ But as she took it from him, she paused. ‘Are you sure you want to do that? Should you not report this to the police?’
‘No, delete them. I’m fed up of all this crap. I just want them gone.’
As Alex was working on the phone, she looked amused. ‘You really are a bit behind the times, aren’t you?’
He grimaced. ‘Massive understatement. Your average three-year-old is probably more tech-savvy than me. I just didn’t ever buy into the whole computing thing. If it wasn’t work-related, it sort of passed me by. And smartphones are just an extension of that so if computers weren’t my thing …’ He made a face. ‘Apart from calling people, that is.’
‘God! In a few years you’ll be totally knackered then. Nobody will be making phone calls. That’ll be so last decade. Or whatever.’
‘But that’s a problem, don’t you see? If I keep avoiding technology, and that’s what I do, I’ll be totally lost. Because it’s everywhere. And the non-technology options will gradually disappear. I won’t even be able to go to the cinema or the theatre because box offices will be phased out. I really need to do something.’
‘Well, maybe I can help. A friend of mine gave her grandma an iPad for her Christmas a couple of years back. She’s seventy-eight.’
Ross immediately put on a ‘you’re kidding me’ look, but Alex came straight back at him. ‘Listen. Don’t mock, pal. After some excellent tuition from yours truly, she emails, does all her banking online, downloads music and films like there’s no tomorrow, Facetimes her other great-grandkids in Canada and New Zealand: the works. And, as a result, all her pals at the old folks’ home asked if I would teach them too. So I do one-to-ones called Technology for the Totally Traumatised. And if I was able to teach all those old biddies, you’d be a piece of cake. What do you think?’
‘Well, I’d have to pay you.’
‘You certainly would, I’m not a charity. £20 an hour, cash in hand.’
Ross scratched his ear. ‘I’ll think about it.’ Just then, the bell sounded for last orders. ‘A nightcap?’
Alex looked at her watch. ‘Love to, but no. There’s a bus at the top of the road in ten minutes. If I catch that into town, I can change buses or get a taxi home from there.’
Ross didn’t ask how she knew the bus timetables, he was catching on. They handed each other their jackets, and shrugged them on. Outside, Ross hovered between heading for his bike and saying goodnight. Alex was far more decisive. She gave him the briefest of hugs, flung him a goodnight wave and disappeared off into the street. Ross waved at the space she’d just vacated, unlocked his bike and bounced it down the few steps from the car park to the foreshore. From there it was a flat run two miles east to Newhaven, where, a little unsteady on his feet, he pushed his bike the last mile through the quiet streets to his house.
He was almost home when his phoned cheeped. He stopped to check it.
Hi. It’s Alex. That was great fun. Enjoyed your company and thanks for dinner. If you want to do it again or take pc lessons, call me. Take care. A
Ross dropped the phone back into his pocket. ‘That’s maybe not a bad idea,’ he remarked to a ginger cat that was observing him guardedly from its perch on top of a nearby wall. ‘Not a bad idea at all.’
Summer
Chapter Forty-Five
Five Weeks Later
It was a Saturday evening in mid-June. Ross was sitting on the top deck of a bus, looking over at Edinburgh Castle. The dying rays of the sun were glinting off the temporary grandstands being erected on the Esplanade for the Military Tattoo, the main attraction of the world famous Edinburgh Festival. Not for the first time on the journey from his house into town, he pondered the wisdom of what he was about to do.
Well, if I’m not enjoying myself, I can always bail out. I’m sure Alex won’t mind.
Alex. Despite several self-to-self lectures on the theme of once bitten twice shy, he felt something was building between the two of them. He wasn’t certain he wanted that, but equally he wasn’t sure he didn’t. But any tipping point was far enough in the distance that final decisions didn’t need to be made, so he was on his way to meet her at a music venue in the depths of the Old Town.
The day after their bar supper in the Cramond Inn he phoned her to say thanks for finding and nullifying the apps on his phone, and to take her up on her offer to help him improve his IT skills. Alex came to his office the following Thursday after work and walked him through an introductory two-hour lesson in generic IT topics. To Ross’s surprise, she held his interest throughout and he couldn’t believe how quickly the time passed. Over the next half a dozen Thursdays he had one-hour lessons, covering different topics in more detail. Ross was quite amazed how she managed effortlessly to knit the whole subject together, and by the end of the final session he realised how much he’d enjoyed learning about all things computing and, more than once, he wondered why he hadn’t ever bothered to understand it before. After each lesson they popped into the Cramond for one drink before going their separate ways but apart from friendly pecks on the cheek as they said good night, neither made any inappropriate moves.
Over the period, they settled into each other’s company. Ross had told Alex about his back catalogue that first night and, gradually, she revealed more about herself.
Alexis had been born and brought up in Lairg, a small village in Sutherland about an hour north of Inverness. Despite being from a close-knit, loving family, as a sixteen-year-old she had rebelled against the claustrophobia of rural life, and had fallen in with a small band of other disaffected kids from the area. She described it as her wild child period. Her schoolwork began to deteriorate and she refused to study for her exams. It wasn’t a surprise when she failed most of them, badly. Trouble followed her and her gang around like an orphaned lamb. Then one night her father discovered her, stoned, in a tent with three of her ‘friends’.
Finlay, a mild-mannered Highlander who worked as an estate manager for the local laird, blew his stack completely and dragged her off home. Her mother had died when the girl was only twelve so Finlay had no choice but to deal with any and all problems involving his three children, all girls.
When Alexis surfaced the following morning, she expected to be read the riot act so she stayed precisely where she was, hoping to stave off the inevitable for a few hours yet.
A car crunching up the gravel driveway at the side of the house wakened her for a second time. She heard her father opening the kitchen door, then both male and female voices she didn’t recognise. From the depths of her duvet, she figured something was up. A few minutes later, there was a polite knock on her bedroom door, which opened a crack. ‘Are you decent, Alexis?’ She grumped in the affirmative and pulled the bedclothes down as far as her nose, just in time for her father to plonk a gentle kiss on the end. He ruffled her hair affectionately. ‘I’m sorry, pet, I’m afraid I have some terrible news for you.’ He explained the police had come to the house to speak to her because about four hours earlier her best friend Maree had been found dead in the tent. He said she should come downstairs now. She turned away, chewing her lip to stop it trembling.
Alexis stared at the back of the door for a minute or two, pushed the duvet back and crawled out of bed. She was still wearing yesterday’s underwear and one sock. Its mate lay crumpled on the floor at the foot of her bed. She noticed her jeans and t-shirt neatly folded over the back of her desk chair. No way did I take them off. She closed her eyes as a grainy image of crawling through a tent-flap flirted with her memory. The sequel involved playing-cards and a lot of shouting. She shook her head, then immediately resolved not to repeat that particular movement. For a while, at least.
Once the police had gone, she asked her father in a remarkably calm voice what had happened the night before. He told her another of her friends had called him to say she wasn’t trying to cause trouble but she was worried about what Alexis and the others were up to in the tent. Finlay marched straight over to the field where the tent was pitched. He recognised Maree but he had his hands full with Alexis so couldn’t take Maree home too.
Once he put Alexis to bed, Finlay called Maree’s father but tragically, the poor man hadn’t realised how potentially serious the situation was and didn’t go out to bring his daughter home.
Alexis fell apart. She kept repeating the phrase ‘It could have been me that died.’ It took Finlay most of the rest of the day to convince her she couldn’t think like that. But, kind man and loving father though he was, he didn’t let her completely off the hook. The following morning, he laid it out in calm but straightforward terms just how worried he was about her. He didn’t mind she was pushing all sorts of boundaries, nor that she landed herself in the odd scrape. And while he positively encouraged experimentation he was damned if he would sit by and do nothing if any of his daughters were heading off the rails. Finlay knew he was taking a chance, that he might push Alexis further away but he had a sense that this rebellion was a fever that was about to break.
And he was right. Their conversation was stilted at first. Pulling teeth didn’t come close to describing it. But gradually, the Berlin Wall came down, and father and daughter talked for several hours. Nothing was off the table, so some of the things she spoke about curled Finlay’s eyelashes but he was prepared to accept the odd blush if it meant she would talk to him.
That night, Alexis gave her dad and her sisters several grizzly bear hugs then disappeared off to bed where she stayed for almost thirty-six hours, appearing periodically to be fed and watered.
By the end of the week she’d binned her erstwhile gang members, negotiated a rescue package with her head teacher, and enrolled in evening classes at the North Highland College, 25 miles away in Dornoch, with a study plan that would bring her back into line with her classmates. At Maree’s funeral, Alexis silently promised her friend she would make the most of this second chance in life.
