Half Moon Chambers (25 page)

* * *

I entered the ICU quietly. I'd been cleaned up
and
bandaged, my split lip stitched, and I'd slept
for
ten hours straight, after swearing to the nurses
and
anyone who'd listen that I'd never so much as
close
my eyes on the noisy ward. Bill had brought
me
in fresh clothes. I felt strange, spacey and
unshelled
, coming to stand by Rowan's bed.

He had a glass-walled cubicle to himself. I
was
acquainted with those. They allowed for full
observation
whilst preventing unstoppable howls
from
scaring the crap out of visitors. He was
curled
up in the horizontal bands of sunlight
making
their way through the blinds, but he was
awake
, his eyes lucid. "Vince," he said as soon as
he
saw me. "I've got to talk to you."

I helped him sit up. He was still attached to
monitor
wires and three drips. I negotiated these
out
of his way, levered up the headboard and
eased
a second pillow behind his back. "You look
like
a mad scientist should be cackling over you in
a
Transylvanian castle."

"Yeah. You're very pretty yourself."

"What's all these, then? Rehydration? They
giving
you something to take the edge off?"

"Yes. I'm much better. Er... Look, it's okay.
You can stop."

I was fussing, I supposed. I was far from
prone
to it, but he looked so frail. I left off tugging
up
a blanket to cover his naked chest, and at last I
met
his eyes. I swallowed. "Oh, Rowan."

He reached up for me. We were on full
display
up and down the ICU but I didn't care: I
leaned
down into his embrace, pulling him up to
meet
me. I buried my face in the soft hair behind
his
ear. His arms tightened round my shoulders and
his
breath came deep and hungry, as if he wanted
to
remember how I smelled. "Please let me go," he
whispered
. "Sit down and listen to me. Please."

I kept him for a little while, only a short ten
seconds
. There were things I wanted to remember
too
, and already I knew this was my last chance.

Then I released him, making sure I didn't snag any
of
the wires or lines. "Okay. Listening."

"Your nice boss has booked me a luxury
cruise
to St Mary's."

"Right. I know. He's not nice, actually
--
he
wants
you to suffer and burn for his own selfish
purposes
. But go on."

"I want to do the programme. If anyone can
sort
me out, they can. But that's the problem, Vince.

You won't like hearing this. Can you let me
finish
?"

I was sure I could. I leaned my elbows on the
bed
and pressed my fingers to my mouth just in
case
.

"I think I'm gonna lose this fight. And... I don't
want
you around when I do. I'm not saying you
would
hate me, or that you couldn't cope, but
--
I
don
't want you having to try. You've spent all your
life
dealing with crackheads like me. You lost your
brother
to dope, and... Christ, I know you hate
junkies
. I don't blame you for a second."

You're not a junkie.
I pressed my fingers
tighter
. I'd said I would listen, and I wouldn't help
either
of us by interrupting with a lie. He smiled
faintly
, as if he'd read my thought. "Good lad. I
want
to be a witness, and I've got to get dried out
to
do that. What happens afterwards
--
if I can hang
on
--
fuck knows. But I've been here before, and I
know
the one thing I can't afford to do is
feel
anything
. Nothing. Not hope, not fear." He drew
his
knees up, wrapped his arms round them as best
he
could. "Definitely not that I've fallen in love
with
a copper. You have to go while I can bear to
let
you, and I can't see you again
--
not like that. I
don
't know what we had, but it's over. This is shit I
have
to shovel on my own."

I got up. For the best part of a minute, I didn't
know
what the hell I was going to do. Rowan
didn
't move or look at me, and I stood by the bed,
fists
clenched. Anger was easiest, so I fell back on
that
. I didn't hate junkies. And even if I did, that
had
nothing to do with Phil. And Phil in his turn
was
none of Rowan's damn business.

The kneejerk rage dissolved. That left me
facing
the other thing he'd said. I felt as if I'd
stepped
off a cliff. Would there be that cartoon
moment
of suspension in the air before the drop?

Fallen in love with a copper. It's over.

I couldn't speak. Rowan had hidden his face
against
his knees. I'd had my word or three with
the
staff about his status as a witness and the care I
expected
him to receive, and they'd cleaned him up
nicely
, washing and combing his hair. He had a
kind
of feathery parting in it: they'd put that on the
wrong
side. I reached out and stroked the damp
strands
back into place. He didn't stir or look up at
me
. His shoulder blades were standing starkly. He
was
worn to a shadow
--
I could count the
vertebrae
running down the hollow of his spine,
and
the poor sod was only at the start of his fight. I
leaned
in and kissed the crown of his head. Then I
walked
out, tasting hospital soap, the memory of
his
hair's cool silk still vivid on my lips.

Chapter Fourteen

I
took Rowan at his word. I didn't visit him
again
at the hospital, and once he'd been
transferred
to rehab, I didn't try to storm the
gloomy
walls of St Mary's. I did go there one
frosty
afternoon shortly after his arrival, but only
long
enough to write him a note saying I'd called. I
left
it at reception with one of his careworkers.

Bill had been right
--
behind its grim red
brickwork
, the place was cheerful enough, the staff
kindly
and competent. They stopped me before I
could
even get to the desk, politely demanding my
business
. That was good.

I told the nurse not to give Rowan the note
unless
he asked about me. I sat for a while on a
bench
in the grounds, looking up at the windows,
which
stared blankly back at me from behind their
wrought
-iron bars. On the far side of the road, an
unmarked
police car pulled up to relieve the
officer
already on surveillance duty just outside
the
gates. When the fragile sunlight sank behind the
branches
of the beech trees in the park, and the
rooks
began gathering and cawing for their roost, I
went
home.

As soon as Bill agreed my face would no
longer
frighten the kiddies, I went back to work.

Mansion Street had been transformed by the
capture
of Foster and her gang. Bill had been
promoted
, and was thoroughly happy, harassed and
embarrassed
at the change. He kept me busy
liaising
with the lawyers on both sides of
the
Maric trial and Foster's, which would come
immediately
after it. There was no shortage of
evidence
now. All of her dens had been raided,
and
I myself would take great pleasure in
describing
for a jury the joys of a stay in Val's
basement
. She was getting ready to cop a massive
plea
. No honour among her kind of thieves,
and
Bill stood fair to have cracked trafficking rings as
far
south as Manchester.

So I too was a witness, and Bill offered me
protection
of my own
--
nothing heavy, just lifts to
and
from work and an alert system fitted in my flat.

A fortnight ago I'd have refused. A hit would have
solved
all my problems in one, afforded me an
honourable
exit. Now I found I didn't want to go. I
couldn
't have said why. I was lonelier than ever, in
just
as much pain.

I was also in the grip of a fierce new
happiness
unlike anything I'd ever experienced
before
. I accepted Bill's escort. I tried, just as a
novelty
, going to bed before midnight, eating a few
regular
meals. One night I went to visit my
sister
Jane, and I told her I'd quit taking the kids out
because
I was no longer capable of keeping them
safe
when they were with me. The admission
would
have shamed me utterly before. Better
that
Lily and her brothers felt neglected. I'd never
confessed
to Jane the extent of my injuries. She
looked
at my scars
--
sat down and wept for a
minute
, then informed me I was a moron, and we'd
all
go out together from now on. We cracked a
bottle
of wine and sat for hours at her kitchen
table
. We talked about Phil for the first time in
years
, and I told her about Rowan.

Not everything. Not the part where he'd said
that
he loved me. With his next breath he'd broken
us
up, and the changes in my world view were
based
on the flimsiest of foundations, a dream that
had
touched me and dissolved in daylight.

Nevertheless I'd constantly replayed those two
minutes
by his hospital bed. I'd tried to find some
other
meaning for
I've fallen in love with a
copper
, then I briefly tried to kid myself he'd
meant
somebody else. But I couldn't deny, destroy
or
dismantle what I'd heard. The memory of it
made
my heart thump and race in my chest even
when
I was sitting doing nothing, and when
someone
knocked at my front door just after
midnight
, a fortnight to the day since I'd last
seen
Rowan, I lurched upright and stood trembling.

I'd been doing nothing for hours. Today he'd
have
come to the end of his first stage of rehab.

He'd have been discharged, left to see how he
coped
in the world on his own. Bill had assigned
him
surveillance, liaised with his gallery boss to
make
sure he kept his job, and if he was in one
piece
seven days down the line, he'd enter the
witness
box to speak against Foster and Maric.

Perhaps he'd been to work today. I'd left him alone
while
he fought this final battle for his soul.

Maybe, despite all his fears, he might believe he'd
won
.

More likely it was the surveillance cop Bill
had
given me. The night was chilly, and now I'd
stopped
holding everyone at stony arm's-length
distance
, my colleagues had started talking to me
again
. Probably the lad on duty tonight had got
cold
and decided to pop up for a cup of tea. That
was
fine. I was remembering the pleasures of
camaraderie
. If it wasn't Rowan standing in the
hallway
, that diffident smile of his lighting his
face
, I could cope. I'd just ask Constable Jones
,
Conroy or Mason in for his cuppa and some idle
chat
--
the footie results and the weather, and
digestive
biscuits dunked in a mug of PG Tips. I
could
cope with an ordinary world. I checked the
spyhole
in the door as Bill had ordered me to do,
but
my visitor was standing too close. I
swallowed
. I knew I should open up discreetly on
the
chain, but I just couldn't wait any more.

I flung the door wide, and I found myself
staring
straight at Jack Monroe.

Neither of us spoke. He had an air of fresh
arrival
about him, a holdall in his hand with the
baggage
ties still on it. If Apollo had decided to
drop
in from ancient Greece, he couldn't have
looked
more exotic in my hallway. I couldn't have
expected
him less. There was nowhere in this
hemisphere
where he could have acquired that tan,
that
look of warm distances in his blue eyes. He'd
always
been a beauty. Six months in a sunny
climate
--
and apparently he'd spent most of them in
a
gym
--
had perfected him. His blond hair had
been
expertly cut. I flashed back to wet black
strands
on a pale brow, and I tasted hospital soap.

I retreated a couple of steps from the door. I
had
to find words. "What are you doing here? Did
they
cancel the Baywatch remake?"

A paralysis of tension left him. I realised he
too
had been struggling for speech. He broke into a
grin
whose brightness had also been enhanced
since
our last meeting. "Hi, Vinnie. My mam's not
well
. I had to come home."

"God, I always meant to break this to you
gently
. I'm not your mum."

He snorted. "Oh, thank fuck. You haven't
changed
a bit. I came here straight from the airport
because
... Well, as far as my head's concerned it's
four
in the afternoon, and I wanted to see you
before
I did anything else. I wanted to talk to you."

I couldn't think of a response, and a burning silence
extended
itself. His smile faded. "You know," he
said
faintly, looking at the ground, "the stairs are
just
behind me. If you want to push me down."

My throat ached. Was this it? After all the
pain
and self-doubt I'd crawled through, was this
his
confession? I didn't know how I'd react. As for
the
stairs, I might not have the strength. But there
was
a tricky catch on the living room window
--
that
would do the job, and a two-hundred-foot
drop
might almost be enough. "Why would I want
to
do that?"

"Well, I... shipped out on you, didn't I?
When
I got this job in the States. I never even said
goodbye
."

I shrugged. We were back on our old ground,
then
. That suited me. Everything about Jack, every
way
in which he could matter to me, had flowed
off
under my bridge long since in a tide of blood
and
tears. He was just a gorgeous stranger to me
now
. "Forget it." I turned away. "Come on in. You
want
something to drink?"

"Vince, you're limping."

Was I? The physi-ogre wouldn't like that. I
stopped
myself, and continued on into the kitchen
with
a straight spine.

"Is that from the shooting?"

I was vaguely aware of him closing the door,
slinging
his holdall onto the sofa. I got down two
glasses
and a bottle of his favourite scotch. "Nope.
Just tired."

"Because I heard from Bill, when he was
sending
my papers and stuff out to me, that you'd
been
left pretty bad off. But I didn't think... You
were
on the mend, last time I saw you. I thought
you
'd be okay."

"I am. I'm working. Bill found me a desk."

"A desk job? You?"

I poured us out two generous measures. He
couldn
't hurt me. He was blood beneath my bridge.

"Yeah." I smiled at him over my shoulder. "It
beats
flipping burgers. Anyway, how about you?

How's your senator?"

"Still alive, so I must be doing something
right
. What's happened in here, Vinnie? Where's
all
your mess and your rugs? It looks like you've
had
the bailiffs in."

I brought the drinks into the living room. Jack
was
looking round him, a sun god in a concrete
cell
. I gestured to him to sit down, and I took a
chair
opposite him
--
not too close, but I wanted to
be
able to see him. I wanted him to see me too. "I
had
to get rid of everything I could trip over," I
began
. His eyes met mine, their sapphire
darkening
. "Because if I fall, I end up screaming
like
a bitch from the pain, and that... that does fuck
-
all
for my dignity."