Grave Doubts (26 page)

He was on his own again. At first light he’d left Wendy asleep and returned to the cottage on his motorbike. He avoided driving a car unless it was an absolute necessity, although he never once linked this aversion to his past. To do so would have been to admit the possibility of a weakness and he had never done that.

His mood was sombre. Imagine leaving her alive! Even though he’d fantasised on the cliff top about her regaining consciousness as the sea rose around her, only to drown in the claustrophobic blackness of the cave, he had thought her dead. It was all Griffiths’ fault. To create stronger grounds for his appeal he had decided to work outdoors. It should have been easy but he’d found it strangely difficult. There were too many areas of uncertainty outside. What if somebody had walked by? It was different in their homes where he was completely in control and could take as long as he liked. That was the other problem. It had to be quick. No sooner had he started to enjoy himself than he’d had to stop. But everything might still have been all right if he hadn’t lost his knife.

Fortunately he hadn’t told Griffiths about the girl in Wales so the mistake remained his secret. His frustration mixed with a black mood that he couldn’t shake off and the anger grew. With anger came a release of power and energy. He could feel it building now. A decision needed to be made. Did he try and copy Griffiths’ clumsy style once more or go back to his own ways?

In the cottage he paced the sitting room, slashing the air with his hand as if it held the lost knife. When the idea came to him he smiled at its genius. His best solutions were always the most simple. He needed to look younger so the moustache he’d started to cultivate would have to go. It didn’t matter. He could grow a plausible beard in a week. The side burns had been coached longer but he razored them away. He showered vigorously, using a tough exfoliant to remove surface skin and loose body hair. There was always a risk that it wouldn’t be enough but he’d been successful so far and his confidence in the technique had grown.

Now to the last details: he chose his contact lenses colour and clothes, not too expensive this time. He wasn’t in London now and the style that had enabled him to blend in there would make him stand out back here, but he needed to look fashionable – a pair of light chinos and a black T-shirt would do. His shoes needed to be strong, good quality for walking as he would not be taking his bike where he was going, but he had a thick-soled pair that would also pass as a fashion statement. Finally he took a wig of short dreadlocks from a cupboard and found his diamond ear stud to complete the effect.

The excitement was building. It made his eyes sparkle and brought a smile to his face. He snorted a line to keep the high then left the house. The air held an electricity that tasted like blood at the back of his throat. The hairs on his arms rose and the back of his neck tingled as he walked briskly along the footpath. He knew then that this was going to be a very special night.

Dana, Rachel and Virginia (Ginny to her friends but never to her family) were regretting their decision to visit Shrewsbury instead of staying in Telford as they usually did on a Friday night. They’d tried all the bars and discos they knew in a vain attempt to connect with whatever might be happening, only to conclude each time that it must be happening elsewhere. Low on adrenaline, make-up fading, they started to argue as they left the final bar on their list and walked out into the drizzle.

Under cover at a nearby bus stop they argued about what to do next. Dana was in favour of taking the train to Telford. Rachel thought that the bus would be quicker. Ginny kept quiet. She felt as if she had a cold coming. When the others couldn’t agree she suggested that they went back to Dana’s house and watched late night Buffy with a glass of wine and a take-away but Dana and Rachel were having none of that.

The night was still promising as far as they were concerned and they weren’t bound by Ginny’s curfew. They were still enjoying their first year of legal drinking and didn’t see why they should waste that at home, away from the boys. The girls finally agreed that the train back to Telford offered more pick-up opportunity and set off towards the station. Dana and Rachel strode ahead under an over-sized golf umbrella. Ginny followed, lagging further behind with each step. She huddled beneath a pink polka dot, see-through plastic umbrella. It belonged to her younger sister but had been the only one she could find before leaving home in a hurry.

Neither Dana nor Rachel was wearing a coat and Ginny figured that Dana
had
to be cold with that bare midriff, even if her new stud did catch the light. Rachel always looked good no matter what she wore but it was irritating the way her hair stayed sleek and shiny even in the rain.

At the station they discovered that they had just missed a train and would have to wait half an hour for the next one. There was a bar nearby to which they retreated to wait. Ginny ordered Hooch but when it arrived the chilled sweet liquid made her shiver and she set it to one side. She huddled into her raincoat feeling poorly but trying to look bright, attractive and interested in their mindless chatter. Two men in their twenties came over and bought them all a drink, raising their eyebrows when she changed her order to whisky.

Dana and Rachel started to have a great time. One of the blokes definitely fancied Rachel and the other seemed prepared to take an interest in Dana. As the half-hour wore on, then passed, Ginny felt herself increasingly pushed to the edge of the group. She sneezed a couple of times but didn’t even warrant a ‘bless you’, let alone any sympathy. When the others stood up to go back into Shrewsbury, suddenly a foursome with a convenient car, she decided that joining them just wasn’t worth it. Dana and Rachel were briefly guilty enough to make a passing attempt to persuade her but accepted her third negative with a ‘suit yourself’ and left Ginny to decide how to get home.

She had missed the previous train and there was over half an hour to wait for the final service. The barman was calling last orders as she checked how much money she had left – £47.52p – more than enough for a taxi even at this time of night. She had three numbers in her bag, carried at her dad’s insistence.

There was a queue for the payphone by the loos and by the time her turn came around there was only a handful of other people still in the pub. The first taxi firm’s number was constantly engaged. The second quoted her a thirty-minute wait and the third explained that all their drivers were booked or sick with flu. She was re-dialling the second number as the barman tapped her on the shoulder.

‘Come on, love, time to go.’

She didn’t protest. At the station she dialled the second taxi firm again. It was engaged and she started to shiver, really cold now. She thought of the words of the last dispatcher. Perhaps she had the flu. If she couldn’t find a taxi to take her home before midnight she decided that she’d call her dad. It was what she really wanted to do but they’d had a row that morning about her reluctance to go to university and she didn’t want to behave in a way that suggested any weakness.

The phone booth was full of cards for taxi firms. She picked one at random and her call was answered straight away. They could have a cab to her within twenty-five minutes. The dispatcher sounded a friendly woman.
‘If you’re unlucky, it’ll be my husband. Just don’t complain about the suspension – his or the car’s,’ s
he chuckled at her own joke with a smoker’s throaty laugh.

Ginny’s spirits lifted. Twenty-five minutes was nothing and it was almost dry under the awning. She sneezed twice.

‘Bless you! Are you all right? You shouldn’t be out alone on a night like this.’

It was a nice voice, sympathetic and cultured. Ginny softened her dismissive shrug with a superficial smile.

‘I’m serious. Are you going to get home OK? Do you have enough money for a taxi? Sorry for asking but you remind me of my younger sister and I’d hate to think of her out on a night like this. I can order you a taxi if you like, my pleasure. I would never forgive myself if a pretty woman like you caught a chill because I’d abandoned her in the rain.’

Ginny looked at him for the first time and smiled properly. He was tall with lovely green eyes, broad shoulders and crazy hair. But he was a stranger and he was a man. Ever since she had been a little girl she had never spoken to strange men. It was one of the reasons she tagged along with Dana and Rachel. They had no such inhibitions.

‘I have a taxi booked, thank you.’

He frowned but it disappeared quickly.

‘Then I bet you have a bit of a wait. Can I buy you a coffee?’

The idea was tempting. A hot drink in attractive company was better than waiting outside in the damp. What harm could there be in a coffee?

The station buffet was closed but there was an Italian-looking place (that is the awning was red, white and green) over the road and they went in there. He told her his name was Graham and left her at a table near the door whilst he went in search of a waiter. If she twisted her head she could see the taxi rank and she started to relax.

Graham was gone for some time. He returned eventually looking triumphant with two large cups of thick cappuccino.

‘Success! And I managed to persuade him to give us these as well.’ He pulled two packets of Amaretti biscuits from his pocket and handed her the pink-wrapped one.

‘Thank you.’ She wasn’t hungry but it felt rude to decline. He watched as she unwrapped the paper and started to nibble the sugary nodules from the top of the macaroon.

‘That’s no way to eat them!’ He laughed and dunked one of his own into the froth of his coffee before popping it into his mouth whole. ‘Delicious. Go on, try it.’

Ginny still didn’t feel like eating but he was kind and friendly so she copied him and ate both halves of her own biscuit. He chatted to her easily as she sipped at the froth and watched for the taxi. It still hadn’t arrived when she decided to leave to be on the safe side.

‘I must go. Thanks for the coffee.’

‘You haven’t touched it. At least drink some. It will warm you up.’

‘Oh, OK.’ She took a long swallow and grimaced. ‘What’s in it?’

‘Grappa, just a splash. It’s a great cold remedy and it won’t do you any harm.’

Ginny gulped more of the cooling coffee to be polite then rose to go. She sneezed twice as she said goodnight. Feeling decidedly undignified she picked up her coat and walked towards the door. Somehow he was there, opening it before she could stop him.

‘I’ll walk you to the rank and wait until your taxi arrives. No, I insist. You shouldn’t be on your own at this time of night. I’m amazed that your boyfriend left you to fend for yourself.’

Ginny let the remark pass, it was simpler. Besides, she was having difficulty putting her arm into the sleeve of her coat.

‘Here, let me help you. There you go. And button it up tight, it’s still raining.’

The restaurant felt hot and steamy. She put her hand to her forehead, expecting to find it hot but was surprised to touch cold clammy skin. She must have a temperature. Her hand trembled and her knees felt wobbly.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Hot, just hot. Fresh air. That’s good.’

Ginny was shocked to find that full sentences were difficult. The words were there in her head but they bunched up in her mouth when she tried to say them. She stepped out into the drizzle and waited for the dizziness to clear. Instead it became worse. She tried to open the stupid pink umbrella but her fingers felt like immovable sausages. He opened it and held the plastic over her head as he guided her over to the rank. When she stumbled he cupped his free hand under her elbow to steady her then put it round her waist as she started to sway. He was holding her too tight.

‘Nah.’ She wanted to say, ‘no go away’, but her lips wouldn’t open. She tried to push against him but her arms were useless unresponsive lumps by her side.

He was pulling her really hard against him now and panic grew inside her.

‘Don’t wriggle. You’ll have us both over. Ah! Is this your taxi?’

A car pulled up and the driver opened the front passenger window enough to shout.

‘Virginia Matthews?’

‘Virginia? Oh yes, Ginny, that’s us.’

Ginny tried to shake her head. This was all wrong.

‘She’s drunk. I won’t have drunks in my car. They sick up all over.’

The man who said he was Graham laughed.

‘Don’t worry, she’s been ill already. There’s nothing left. I just need to see her home safely.’

Ginny heard him give an address in the wrong direction and opened her mouth in silent protest. The taxi driver looked at her and frowned.

‘Nothing left? You sure? It’s twenty quid extra if she throws up. In fact…’ The driver seemed about to drive off.

Graham thrust something through the open crack in the window.

‘Here’s a tenner, on account. If she’s ill you can stop the car and chuck us out, and I’ll give you another. Have a heart. Look at her, her dad’ll be worried sick.’

Ginny attempted to shake her head but only managed to wedge her chin on her shoulder. The taxi driver unlocked the doors reluctantly and she was bundled inside.

‘Thanks mate. You won’t regret this.’ They climbed in and Graham immediately opened his window wide. ‘Fresh air will help,’ he explained but even in her drugged state Ginny could feel the tension radiating from him.

No one spoke as the tyres swished through puddles and the orange streetlights became less frequent, then stopped altogether. The car left the town limits and Ginny felt drug-induced indifference build inside her, more sickly than vomit. She moaned, softly at first, then louder.

‘She all right?’ The driver cast a worried glance over his shoulder and edged out of potential vomit range.

‘I think so. Where are we?’

‘’Bout a mile from Cressage.’

‘Hmm,’ Graham appeared to consider the distance to their destination. Ginny groaned again and managed a brief struggle against his restraining arm. ‘Tell you what. Take us another mile, then we can manage to walk from there.’