Diamond (23 page)

‘All right then. But don’t judge me.’

‘I promise I won’t.’

It was difficult to get away from Lawrence, who seemed hell-bent on taking her out to lunch, but Jenna pretended to want a private word with Kayley and he gave up and left, promising to call her later.

‘He’s a bit full-on,’ remarked Kayley, once they were safely hidden away in her tiny office. ‘I couldn’t go with a
Harville, though. Not that I’m trying to tell you what to do.’

‘He’s been chasing me since I got here, but I’m not really interested.’

‘So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?’

‘Oh, do you know what? It’s completely gone. Sorry, Kay. It’ll come back to me. I’ll call you. Mind if I go out the back way? Thanks.’

She was free and clear. She watched Lawrence’s car negotiate the roundabout and take the high road out of the estate, then walked up to the shopping precinct.

A few of the teens who’d been at the public meeting sat around on the low wall by the off-licence, laughing, and flirting and showing off to each other.

Jenna skirted them, careful to keep herself out of view, and took the service road behind the shops to the small complex of square, low-rise flats that sat, ugly and squat, on the dried grass between them and the pub.

Cloke Court had a shopping trolley by the security door and two of the six flats were boarded up. Number five, when she was buzzed in, was at the rear of the building on the first floor, overlooking the pub car park.

This was where Jason grew up, she thought.

The front door was cheap wood, scratched, and the hallway smelled of stale cigarette smoke.

When his mother answered the door, she showed Jenna into a cluttered living room. It would have been just like any other place occupied by a person who had given up hope – dirty and neglected – if not for the remarkable artwork on the walls. Jason had painted the view through the window, over and over again, but each time it was different. In one version, the pub was a palace and the
car park a gorgeous garden. In another, strange, zombie-like figures roamed the landscape. The pictures were so varied and so fascinating that she forgot to say hello to his mother until she coughed, and spoke.

‘You see what I’m saying? Talented.’

‘I’ll say. These are incredible.’

‘I’d make you a cuppa but the kettle’s on the blink. I’ve got Coke. Or something stronger.’

‘Oh, Coke’ll be fine, thanks.’

She sat down, clearing a space on the sofa first. The window was open, but the place smelled of old cider and cigarette smoke.

Kathy came back with a can of Coke – no glass – and a lager for herself.

Although Jenna knew her name, she had to ask.

‘Sorry, so you’re …?’

‘Kathy. And my boy was Jason.’

‘And what happened to him?’

‘He’s gone. Don’t know where, nobody does. He got busted, but it weren’t him. I know it, I’d swear on my life. His life.’

‘So he’s in prison?’

‘No, like that snake, Harville, said: he did a runner.’

‘Have you any idea where?’

Kathy swallowed a swig of beer, shaking her head.

‘Not a clue,’ she said.

‘If he was set up, who do you think was behind it?’

‘I don’t know, but I didn’t trust that girlfriend of his further than I could throw her. Mia Tarbuck. She was playing around behind his back, I know that much.’

‘Do you? Who with?’ Jenna felt uncomfortably as if she was showing a little too much interest, but she had
to ask these questions, had to find some answers from somewhere.

‘I saw her with some other bloke in town, in the Wetherspoons. Don’t know his name – I don’t think he was from round here. Her and her no-good mates, all showing off their belly-button piercings. Never liked that crowd. They used to bully our Jase at school.’

‘Oh, no, I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘It were their fault he started getting into trouble. Trying to stand up for himself, trying to impress them so they’d leave him alone. He’s a good lad, underneath it all, I swear.’

‘I know,’ said Jenna, then she caught herself. ‘I mean, I’m sure you’re right. And such a brilliant artist. How old was he when he started all this?’

‘Tiny. He used to copy the cartoon characters when he were, what, three or four? Draw ’em, really good for a little ’un. It were good: a pack of crayons and some paper don’t cost much, does it? It were a cheap hobby. I could afford that much.’ She laughed, but it turned into a chesty smoker’s cough.

‘And from that start, he grew into this …’ Jenna looked around her again. Barely an inch of the wall was bare of Jason’s efforts. Judging by the mould spotting the ceiling and blackening the window seals, it was probably just as well.

‘He could have done so well for himself.’ Kathy shook her head and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. ‘D’you mind if I light up, duck? I wouldn’t, but my nerves …’

Jenna shook her head, although she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a smoky environment. LA was
simply and utterly smoke-free, at least in the circles she frequented.

‘So, this Mia was his downfall then, would you say?’

Kathy nodded vigorously.

‘He was too taken up with her. I always felt she were laughing at him, taking the piss. He’d do anything for her, and she knew it.’

‘Where is she, now? Do you think she knows where he is?’

‘Oh, I dunno. Nobody saw her for a while, but now she’s back in the pub most nights with her dodgy mates. She does the karaoke in the back room – that’s her job. Goes round town with her machine of a night.’

‘Where does she live?’

‘I think she lives upstairs at the pub. You don’t see hide nor hair of her all day, mind. She only comes out at night.’

‘Like a vampire.’

Kathy laughed, wearily, at that. ‘Yeah, you could be right, love. Perhaps she’s a vampire.’

‘Was he still living with you, when he disappeared?’

‘No, duck, no. He was sofa-surfing, as they call it. I couldn’t cope with him. I wasn’t the best mother to him, I’ll hold me hands up. I suppose he was what you could call neglected. But I love him, and I miss him, every day and I keep thinking he’ll walk through that door with his big, cheeky smile …’

She broke off, and Jenna put a hand on her shoulder, feeling it shake beneath the lint-covered vest top.

‘You know, I think he’s all right, Kathy. Don’t ask me how I know but I just have this feeling that he’s fine.’

‘You’re very kind, love. I hope you’re right.’ She choked back a sob. ‘He was such a gorgeous little boy.’

‘Thank you for talking to me about him. Would you mind very much if I borrowed some of his artwork? I’d like to show it to a friend of mine who owns a gallery?’

‘For real?’

‘For real. It’s so good. I think she’d like to see it.’

‘Well, OK, duck. I’ll go and get a few bits together. I can’t give you any of these in here because you can see how I’m fixed – it’s my wallpaper.’

While Kathy shuffled off to a bedroom to gather up some more of what seemed to be an extensive collection of Jason’s work, Jenna had a surreptitious search of the living room. She could find nothing that might help Jason out of his predicament, though, so she took the armful of teenage masterpieces, thanked Kathy for her hospitality and determined to try Mia at the pub.

‘She won’t be up,’ warned the landlord. ‘What do you want with her, anyway?’

‘It’s business. She does karaoke, doesn’t she? I was thinking of hiring her for my Gala, up at Harville Hall.’

‘You’re bringing back the Gala? Blimey, that’s a blast from the past. Won’t be the same, though, will it? Too much water under the bridge.’

‘I thought it might cheer everyone up a bit. Bledburn’s got that miserable since I left.’

‘Well, you’re not wrong there. I’ll give her a shout, but she’ll be dead to the world, I can guarantee it.’

The landlord disappeared upstairs, leaving Jenna with two inquisitive Staffies to look after. They panted and circled her legs, barking at each other, until the landlord returned, his face giving away the answer to her request before he had to speak it.

‘No chance,’ he said. ‘She’s not getting out of her pit for anyone till six this evening.’

‘OK, well, could you pass on my number, then? Ask her to call me. Jenna Myatt. About the karaoke.’

‘Will do.’

The landlord looked after her with bemusement as she left the pub. The people of the estate had got used to having a celebrity on their midst, and barely turned a hair when she appeared on the scene now. They had never been easily impressed, mind you. This estate was for people who could prove themselves in a hard world.

Hardly any of them even asked after Deano any more, although she was still regularly quizzed about whether Colin Samson, her nasty co-host, was ‘really like that’.

She thought about Deano as she drove home. How was he, now? Did he miss her? Did he have regrets?

Only one man was on her mind when she arrived at the Hall, though, especially when she went out into the garden to find him hacking at the dead and overgrown rosebushes in nothing but his tight jeans.

She didn’t tell him she was back, at first, but stood at a distance, behind some brown greenery, watching him. His upper arms were tight and strong, and his back and shoulder blades flexed as he sheared. He hadn’t forgotten to put sunscreen on and his skin shone, taking on the beginnings of a tan. He could probably do with a haircut, she thought, watching him smooth it back when it fell in his face, but it wasn’t in a terrible state. Unlike those rosebushes.

He dropped the shears and picked up a water bottle from the grass, tipping his head back to let it splash all over his face and glug into his mouth.

She crept up behind him, but he heard the crackle of the grass and spun around, the bottle held in his hand like a weapon.

‘Oh.’ He relaxed his grip. ‘You’re back.’

‘You’re gardening.’

‘Why not? Weather like this, I didn’t want to be stuck in that attic. It’s not like anyone can see in here.’

‘No. I’m not complaining. The place needs a good going over. It’s been left to rot for too long.’

He smirked at that. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like, you know, secret gardens that need seeing to. Thought you were giving me a hint.’ He reached up to hold on to the branch of a low tree beside him, leaning into it, looking broad-chested, and slim-hipped, and ready to pounce.

‘You’ve got sex on the brain,’ she told him, pouting back at him, amazed at how quickly he could rev her libido from nought to sixty.

‘I’d rather have it on the grass,’ he said.

‘You’ll have to catch me first,’ she cried, running off into the tangle of weeds and thicket that must once have been a beautiful garden.

He lunged after her, causing her to shriek with exhilaration, and gave chase. A spirited pursuit took them into the four corners of the grounds, dashing through rotting gazebos and dodging around moss-covered fountains.

‘You might as well give in,’ he panted, as they circled a summerhouse whose white-painted wrought iron had peeled while the floor was eaten away by woodlice. ‘There’s no way you can get away from me.’

‘Oh dear, how awful,’ said Jenna, in parody of a distressed cartoon heroine. ‘Whatever shall become of me?’

‘I won’t be too hard on you if you give in now,’ he promised.

‘And if I don’t?’

‘If you don’t …’

He made a sudden pounce, sending her screaming into the wilderness again, but she had given him too much leeway now and he caught her in seconds.

They fell to the ground in a tangle.

The dry grasses tickled Jenna’s legs and she thought she’d sat on a thistle because something was prickling her bottom, but that was the least of her worries. On top of her, while she thrashed, and flailed, and giggled, and shrieked, was Jason, straddling her and holding her down by the arms.

‘Oh dear,’ he said, with undisguised relish. ‘Somebody’s in a bit of trouble here. Whatever is she going to do?’

‘Get off me, you git.’

‘Whatever is she going to
get
? I think she knows.’

Jenna tried to raise her knee, to shove him off, but there was no chance. Jason had been working, physically hard, over the last few days, with an obvious impact on his strength. He held her effortlessly, tickling her with a handful of grass stalks until she couldn’t bear it any longer.

He flipped her over on to her front, once his sadistic enjoyment of this was past its peak. She felt the hard, warm ground crush her breasts, the thistle now irritating her upper thigh below the hem of the crisp cotton shorts she wore.

‘Ouch,’ she hissed, and he paused in his kissing of the back of her neck.

‘What? I haven’t started yet.’

‘Something’s prickling my leg. And what do you mean, haven’t started? Started what?’

‘Wait and see,’ he said, reaching underneath her and plucking the thistle from the dry earth. That was better, at least.

His hands, now intent on pleasuring rather than tormenting her, lifted her vest and began to knead at her back and shoulders. They were still tense after her visit with his mother, and his touch brought out deep sighs of satisfaction as the knots unwound. He ground his hips over her as he worked, until she felt, quite unmistakably, his erection growing against her rounded backside. The gentle to-and-fro rocked her into a state of relaxed sensuality, heightened by the exhilaration of their earlier chasing game. She was caught, but she wanted to be, and now he was preparing her.

The thought was delightful.

‘What are you up to?’ she asked sleepily.

‘Just getting you into the zone,’ he said.

‘What zone?’

‘The zone where I can do anything to you and you’ll love it.’

She was already there, but she didn’t want him to know that.

‘What do you mean by “anything”?’

‘I mean,’ he said, pressing his fingertips deep into her soft tissues until she moaned, ‘anything.’

She wriggled her bottom, as much as she could with it wedged between his thighs, as a little signal that his work was paying off.

He took the hint, reached underneath her and
unbuttoned her waistband. Soon her shorts and knickers had been eased over her curves, baring her bottom to the mid-afternoon sun.