DEATHLOOP (47 page)

When he was starting on his other arm he was aware that someone was watching. He saw them dimly walking in slow motion towards him, but by the time they reached him, Jason had sunk to his knees and then, he could see nothing at all.

Even though Zack was with Veronica, and seemed to be committed to Veronica, Justin was still overjoyed at the idea of them living close by. He had found them a small stone cottage with an enormous garden that ran down to Creed Mill River, the same cottage that had featured in all sorts of tourist brochures and calendars as quintessential Cotswold accommodation, the place was charm itself.

It was situated at the end of quite a wide track, and was the only building there. Fields stretched out all round it and the old fashioned front garden was framed by a small white picket fence. A path led up to a wooden porch as old as the house itself, surrounded by chimney pots stuffed with flowers. As boltholes go, it seemed perfect.

Veronica loved the place, she loved everything about it. She felt safe once the door had closed behind them, as though huge weights had been lifted from her. After lunch they set off to explore.

Strolling along the High Road, in and out of little shops, Zack was reassured by the normality and the tradition of Creed Mill Bridge. All the recent horrors seemed to have sunk back into the abyss and for the first time in months, Zack felt whole again. The visions had stopped, Susan had wreaked her vengeance, but ultimately had failed to destroy him or Veronica, Sam had forgiven him for beating him half to death, Clarissa and he had survived all the madness, and poor old Jason had been swept from their lives like debris left behind at the end of a day’s trading at a fruit stall. Veronica had stuck by him through all of this and was nothing less than a saint in his eyes. He was determined to make it up to her, and in his own way thank her for her faith in him, which despite everything, seemed to be unshaken.

He got the feeling that Veronica knew he was thinking along these lines when she looked up at him and gave him one of her blinding smiles. They were killers these smiles and never failed to arouse him. He suggested they went back, advising that she had probably walked around enough for one day, which was a ruse. He wanted sex with Veronica that was the truth of it. They had resisted the night before, wary of the injuries, the organizing of limbs and the avoiding of pressure points, but back at the cottage as they lay on the bed together, they seemed to have an innate sense now of what to do, and set about each other, maybe not as ferociously as in the past, but with just as much intensity. The sex this time was celebratory, the putting up of two fingers to the world. They had been pushed down into the depths and held there, but here they were through sheer force of will shoving their heads up again over the water line and gulping air.

Justin insisted that Zack and Veronica join him for dinner that night, so while Zack and Justin laboured over a large skillet of paella on the stove, Veronica looked round the house.

Veronica decided she adored just about everything in Justin’s house, the reclaimed wood, the ceramics, the paintings, the chaise longue, and the grand bathrooms that were big enough to live in. But Veronica spent most of her time in front of the pin board, fascinated by the old photographs of Zack with various girls, smiling up at him, all obviously besotted. There was one strange photograph though of Zack with his head obscured by a white light. It was clearly Zack, but Veronica found it odd that Justin should think it worth bothering with. She took it off the board to look closer.

“So what’s with all the weirdness?” said Justin to Zack in the kitchen, opening another bottle of wine, “still weird, less weird or what?”

“I made a decision re: the weirdness, Justin, I’ll tell you about it later.”

“She’s stunning by the way, your Veronica…”

“I know she is, and she’s honest and intelligent and compassionate and uncomplicated…”

“And she’s much better than you deserve.”

“And she’s much better than I deserve,” Zack recited back to him, “and listen to this…” but Zack didn’t have time to elaborate because Veronica walked in and interrupted them.

“What’s this?” she said, holding the photograph up.

“You haven’t put that thing back up again have you?” said Zack, serious suddenly.

“No, of course not…”

“So where did you find it?”

“On the pin board next door.”

“You can’t have done.”

“I did, just now…”

“Well I didn’t put it there,” said Justin, not sure if Zack believed him.

Zack grabbed the photograph, tore it up and chucked it into the bin. “So, that’s that,” he said, “job done.”

“And so is this,” said Justin, “sit yourselves down.”

“Tremendous house, Justin…”

“It was a bit of a mess when I bought it, but I wanted space… I do like space. So anyway, help yourselves. Now, who’s going to say grace?”

“That’s Justin’s idea of a joke.”

“How dare you, I go to church and everything.”

“Liar…”

“I bloody do, I was hoping you’d come with me on Sunday.”

“I’ll come.”

“You and me then, let his Lordship remain a heathen all his life.”

“This is so good,” said Veronica, after the first mouthful, “you are clever.”

“Don’t say that to him, his head’s the size of a pumpkin as it is.”

“Shut up, Fortune, what do you know? Did you read that book by the way?”

Zack was on the verge of changing the subject, when Veronica piped up. “What book?”

“A book that Russell wrote called ‘The Circle of Death’.”

“How did you get hold of that?”

“A friend of Justin’s gave it to him, and he to me.”

“Interesting?”

“It was as elusive as the man himself, nothing particularly illuminating.”

“Edward seemed to think it would help.”

“Well it didn’t, end of.”

Justin glanced at Veronica in the silence, shooting her an uncertain smile. “And the cottage is okay?”

“Brilliant,” said Veronica, “we just love it there.”

“There’s all sorts of stuff going on by the way, I must give you the local paper before you go.”

“Like?”

“Fairs and festivals, and village fetes…”

“Oh right up my street! I haven’t been to a decent village fete in bloody years,” said Zack, causing Veronica to kick him under the table. “He doesn’t care what I say to him, do you Justin?”

“
You don’t know the half of it,
” said Justin to Veronica, with feeling.

“Yes, well, let’s just leave it to the imagination, shall we?” said Zack, hastily, throwing Justin a warning look.

Zack knew that Justin had drunk a couple of bottles of wine before they came and yet another one while he was cooking. He was rather nervous now of what he might come out with and Justin knew he was, so just to wind him up, Justin embarked on a few lurid tales only to have Zack butt in and change the subject every time.

“Okay, mate, you’ve made your point, anyway Veronica knows I’m a shit so you’re preaching to the converted somewhat.”

After dinner they retired to the living room where Veronica was drawn back again to the pin board, greedy for more history.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do here for three months,” said Zack to Justin, forgetting for a moment Veronica was in the room.

“How about doing nothing?”

“I thought that was the general idea,” said Veronica, over her shoulder.

“Well yes it is, of course it is.”

Zack offered Justin a tight smile. He knew he should be looking forward to three months of idleness, but there were the stirrings of panic within him. He thought back to the one night he was supposed to be doing much the same in London, the night he ended up with Sid, then unconscious and on a rape charge.

“I’m not too good at all that… you know I’m not.”

“Change,” said Justin.

Back at the cottage as they got ready for bed, Veronica was subdued. “What made you go to see Barbara Quinn anyway?” she said, as though she’d been meaning to ask but never got round to it.

“Justin thought you might have got it wrong.”

“And did I get it wrong?”

“Okay, right, here’s what I have concluded with all this,” said Zack, perching next to her on the bed and taking her hand, “we can do one of three things, one we ignore the soothsayers, just dismiss it as dangerous garbage and get on with our lives, two we accept Russell’s theory that no matter what we do we can’t cheat our own death and therefore indulge ourselves as much as we can in the knowledge that we won’t be around much longer anyway, or three we accept Barbara’s theory that free will allows us to avert our fate by going our own separate ways.”

“So what’s your preference?”

“The first one of course,” said Zack, up on his feet again and prowling, and in an attempt to lift the gloom that had settled over them, a change of gear. “He’s great Justin, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he is,” said Veronica, “mad about you of course.”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh come on, he can’t takes his eyes off you.”

“Frightened I’m going to run off with the silver, that’s all,” said Zack, pulling his shirt off and chucking it at a chair.

“What is it about you, Zack Fortune?” said Veronica, “you’re like a magnet to people… everyone loves you.”

This comment, as flattering as it was, fell between them like a sack of cement. From subdued, Veronica now looked disconsolate, as though she was about to burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“Too much wine I expect.”

“Tell me.”

Veronica looked at him, took a breath to speak, stopped herself then tried again. “How will I ever keep you?” she said.

They were on opposite sides of the room now which seemed appropriate as a huge chasm had opened up between them. Although Veronica’s comment was flattering, it was also predictable and Zack would have preferred not to hear it.

There was something within Zack that made him balk at emotional security. Secretly he knew that he had felt much more alive at the thought of losing Veronica, at the thought of Susan’s revelations driving a wedge between them. If the boat didn’t rock, Zack always felt it his duty to rock it. So the ripple of panic he had felt earlier was now building up to a threatened tsunami. What would they do out here in the sticks? How would they spend their days? And more to the point, how would he get on living in someone’s pocket? He had always insisted on space and time alone, but now here they were thrown together in an unfamiliar environment with no distractions and with a vacuous domestic routine threatening to stifle him.

Zack allowed himself a surreptitious little smile. They had been in their safe haven less than 24 hours and already he was nostalgic for storms. He left Veronica’s question unanswered because actually there was no answer. Neither of them could foresee what was round the corner and the way things had panned out lately, Zack decided that was probably just as well. But Veronica had picked up on all his uncertainty and he knew she had.

“We’re all right aren’t we, Zack? You and me?”

“Of course we are, we just need a bit of time to recover, that’s all, we’ll be fine.”

But the following day saw them put all their reservations on hold. They had breakfast in the garden, and Veronica insisted they made a check list of things to do. The vegetable patch was overgrown, she said, and some of the creepers were running riot. Zack went along with all this because he realised Veronica was making an effort, so he would make an effort too. The day passed pleasantly enough, although mid-afternoon Zack made an excuse to drive into Chipping Norton, leaving Veronica to take a nap. As soon as he was able, he phoned Sam.

“What’s wrong with your phone? I’ve been calling.”

“I switched it off, it has a habit of bringing me bad news.”

“So how’s things?”

“Fine,” said Zack, knowing that Sam would pick up on the evasion straight away, and he didn’t disappoint.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” said Zack, trying harder this time, “great cottage, great little spot, a huge garden that runs down to the river.”

“And heavy traffic by the sounds of it…”

“Yeah, well, I’m just in town for a few things, that’s all.”

But they both knew why Zack was in town, because he needed the distraction of life all round him to stop him brooding too much on who he was and who he knew he should be and the vast expanse in between.

“But I miss you, I miss you like mad, already.”

“You’ll get used to it,” said Sam, gloating.

“Well I don’t know about that, but listen… call me…”

“Keep your bloody phone switched on then.”

“I’m up in court next week, I’ll come over.”

During Susan’s lunch hour at the juice bar, Susan called Tracy’s office, telling the receptionist she was Veronica French.

“Veronica?” said Tracy, surprised, as they had never spoken, “how’s things, how are you?”

“A lot better thanks.”

“And Zack?”

“Oh fine… you know…”

“So you don’t mind him carting you off to the Cotswolds of all places?”

“Not at all,” said Susan, with barely a hesitation.

“It all sounds a bit twee for my taste.”

“It’s great, we love it here.”

“And Justin’s done the honours has he?”

“Sorry?” she said, her mind racing.

“It is Justin isn’t it, have I got that wrong?”

“Yes… you were just breaking up that’s all… anyway, Zack’s having trouble with his phone, so we thought maybe you’d like to take my number instead, just in case.”

“Sure,” said Tracy, jotting Susan’s number down on a scrap of paper.

“Probably best to text me should you need to, reception is not that good here.”

“I’ll do that, give him my regards won’t you.”

“Course, oh and thanks for everything.”

A little thrown by the conversation, Tracy brooded on it when the phones went down. She tried Zack’s mobile but when it clicked off it seemed to confirm things, so she copied the new number into her client list and got back to work. More pressing for Tracy was her inability to speak with Jason, she decided to set off for Holloway later that day to try and track him down.