Half Moon Chambers (26 page)

"You never had your second bullet taken out."

"No. I never dared. I can still walk and do
most
things for myself. I tell you what, Jack
--
you
never
appreciate stuff like going to the bog on your
own
until some poor bastard's had to carry you
there
."

Jack put down his glass. He laced his fingers
together
. His gaze remained locked to mine. He
compressed
his lips so hard I thought he would
draw
blood. "I ran," he said. "That night on the
quayside
when you got shot
--
I panicked. I ran."

Some weight I hadn't known was there
evaporated
--
off my back, off my heart. I didn't
want
to chuck him out the window or down the
stairs
. For a long minute I just sat there in a kind of
freefall
limbo. I felt as if I could grow wings. But
when
I spoke, I sounded to myself ordinary,
friendly
. I sounded like the man I had once been.

"That could happen to anyone."

"Yes. I know. I wasted thousands of dollars
in
therapy working that out. But when I found out it
could
happen to me, I knew I wasn't fit to be a
copper
. Especially... Especially not a partner to a
copper
like you."

I thought about all the things I'd planned to say
if
ever I had him at my mercy. They were flying
away
from me, fading like the seagulls that swept
their
lamplit wings beneath my window and
vanished
into the fog. I had to say something.

Jack's voice had grated to silence. He was
watching
me as if waiting for a thunderclap, a
blow
.

I sat back. I propped my bare feet on the edge
of
his chair
--
not touching, but echoing our old
way
of occupying this part of my flat. "Forget it."

"
Forget
it... Vince, did you hear me? How
can
you possibly forgive
--
"

"I know about fear, Jack. Sometimes your
body
just takes you away."

He released an explosive breath. "That's it.
That was exactly it. One second I was there, about
to
run to your rescue, and the next I was belting up
that
fucking hill in the dark, not knowing where the
hell
I was going. And I couldn't come back. I
couldn
't..."

"Ssh." I pressed my foot to his knee.

Everything was quiet in me now. I wanted to quiet
him
too, ease the desperation whitening his
knuckles
. "I mean it. Thank you for telling me now,
but
... let it go." I left it a few beats. Then I gave his
knee
a tiny shove, and I waited till his brow
creased
in enquiry. "My God. You had
therapy
?"

"Yeah. Full-on West Coast style. His office
had
a plate-glass window looking out onto the
beach
, and he mixed his own fruit smoothies at his
desk
." He began to laugh, then clapped his hand to
his
mouth as if he'd told a joke at a funeral. His
expression
softened in a way I knew well. Before I
could
stop him, he'd got to his feet, transferred
himself
lithely from the chair to the sofa at my
side
. "Oh, Vinnie. I've missed you."

I shifted away from him. It was just an inch,
but
he felt it, and the arm that would have gone
around
my shoulders stretched out along the back
of
the sofa instead. We were terribly used to one
another
. An embrace like that would turn into a
squeeze
, haul me in unthinkingly for a kiss. I saw
him
abort the move
--
not much on the surface, but a
painful
inward halt that should have been
accompanied
by a screech of tyres. It left us in
awkward
proximity. I was already as far along the
sofa
as I could get. He'd have to work out some
kind
of subtle retreat for himself, unless... "Are
you
hungry?" I asked. "What do they have
in
California for their tea?"

"Oh
--
ready-meal shepherd's pie from Asda,
often
as not."

"That's handy." As usual my freezer was
stocked
with those and similar delicacies that
saved
me from ever needing to cook. "Want me to
put
some on for you?"

"Er... Yeah. Thanks."

I didn't know if he did or he didn't, but it got
me
off the sofa. He watched me while I went about
my
minimal food preparation in the kitchen. Oven
on
, packaging off... "Why are you still living up
here
?" he said, a rough little catch in his voice I'd
never
heard before. "I'd have thought... Wouldn't it
be
better if you had somewhere on the ground
floor
?"

I could tell him, here in the kitchen with my
back
to him. For the first time it was clear in my
own
mind. "I never accepted what happened to me.
I was scared to have the second op, but I've kept
on
living like I was going to. Giving this place up
would
have meant that I'd made up my mind."

"Have you?"

"Not yet. There's things I can do even like this
that
I never realised. I've... got used to it, I
suppose
, though I never thought I'd hear myself say
that
. It's just the pain."

The sofa creaked. I'd lived here long enough
to
know the meaning of each little noise. I didn't
turn
, but I stood waiting tensely. I felt his warmth
behind
me, very close.

"Vince. Let me help you. I've got so much to
make
up to you for, and... I made a fortune out
there
, opening car doors for my senator."

Not what I'd expected. His hand on my
shoulder
, maybe, or his mouth on the back of my
neck
. "I don't need money. I'd get the surgery on
the
NHS. Or if I had to do it privately, the department
would
cover the cost."

"I don't mean that. I mean afterwards. If they
tried
, and it didn't work out, I could... I could look
after
you. I'd get a job over here, and we could
share
a place. I could support you."

I stared at the wall, at the constellation of
Blu
Tack patches where I'd once stuck my target-shoot
certificates
and timing notes for personal best on
the
assault course. This was Jack, who couldn't be
trusted
to look after his mum's tropical fish while
she
was away, let alone a disabled human being.

And he was sincere. The force of his offer hit me
square
on. I turned to face him, but I couldn't meet
his
eyes. My own were prickling, my throat sore.

"Jacky, it's late. I should get some sleep."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, of course
--
I'll go."

"No. You'll scare your mam to death, turning
up
at this hour. Finish that bottle of scotch, and
have
your pie when it's ready. Stay here."

"On the sofa, right?"

"Right. I'd sleep there myself, but I'd have to
be
stretchered off in the morning. And... And other
reasons
."

"Shit." The word was very soft, but I heard
the
nuances. Realisation
--
an unspoken question
answered
. He stepped away from me, went back
into
the living room. His arms were folded over
his
chest, his head bowed. "Shit!" he said more
fervently
after a minute. "I knew it. I just bloody
knew
!"

I was far from sure myself. "Knew what?"

"That I shouldn't have taken my eye off the
ball
. Shouldn't have turned my back
--
not on a man
like
you. I've missed you, haven't I?"

"I don't understand."

"For God's sake, Vince. You found somebody
else
."

"No. At least... I don't think so. Very probably
not
." I paused, struggling to work out the changes
inside
myself, the gears that had irrevocably
switched
. "I'm just not free any more."

"Shit."

"I didn't think you'd mind." The second I'd
said
it, I was ashamed. His eyes met mine, full of
hurt
. "I mean, I didn't think you felt
--
"

"No. You're dead right. I didn't. We were
fucking
, and that was great, and I loved you as my
mate
and my partner, but I never gave what you
were
giving. I know that."

"Jack, don't."

"You think I couldn't see? I knew you had
more
invested than I did." I blinked at
invested
: he
certainly
had been to therapy. Then he blushed and
reverted
to type. "But I just kept... throwing my leg
over
the problem."

"Well, if you're good at something... I never
had
any complaints."

"But you wanted more. And now you've got
it
."

"I don't know what I've got. C'mon, mate. It
might
be cocktail time in LA, but for me it's two in
the
morning."

"Do you have to work?"

"Not till late. I'm doing graveyards for Bill."

"Okay. Can we have breakfast together, then?
To make things feel more normal?"

I nodded. Nothing normal about that proposal,
though
--
on our rare nights together, breakfast had
consisted
of a shag in the shower then a panicked
run
for the door with coffee mugs still in our
hands
. "That would be nice."

He sat quietly while I fetched him sheets and
a
blanket from the bedroom. When I moved to
shake
them out and make up the sofa, though, he
stopped
me, taking them from me and doing it
himself
. "I keep meaning to ask," he said. "Why is
there
a plainclothes sergeant downstairs? Just as
well
he remembered me. Even then I practically
had
to show him my passport."

"Oh, I'm a closely guarded witness these
days
. Me and Bill Hodges caught a great big fish
the
other day
--
Val Foster, no less."

He paused in unfolding the blanket. He
looked
me up and down as if he'd never seen me
before
, and gave a low whistle. "You never did.
Get you, Robocop!"