Knife Edge (16 page)

‘Glad you came?’ Rob asked her.

Kim nodded. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Better than staying at home,’ he said, and smiled.

They wandered on through stands of trees, keeping the stillness of the water on their left as it meandered along the side of the valley. To the right, the ground fell away into a tangle of bushes and brambles, with the River Avon some way beyond.

They came across several groups of barges, moored together in twos and threes. Some of them clearly hadn’t moved for a long time – weathered garden chairs, old gas cylinders and children’s toys spread out along the grass beside the path, evidence of their inhabitants gradually putting down roots into the bank.

Rob paused by one beautifully decorated barge and smiled at a small tabby cat that got up from sunning itself on the deck, stretched and ambled over to them.

‘Guarding the boat while the owners are away,’ he said with a grin.

The cat went to Rob and brushed itself against his ankles.

‘Not much of a guard,’ Kim said, smiling.

Rob dropped to a crouch and stroked the little cat, tickling behind its ears as it rubbed itself against him. He smiled as it raised its head so he could rub under its chin, a quiet delight in his expression.

Kim watched him thoughtfully, wondering why he didn’t have a cat himself. Perhaps it was too much of a commitment – after all, he wasn’t someone who would let himself be tied down. She turned to gaze out across the fields, pushing her hair back and tightening the elastic that held it away from her face. And yet, he did seem to have committed himself to her.

Rob stood up with a contented look on his face and they continued along the towpath. The cat followed them for a few yards, then sat down in a spot where the sunlight came through a gap in the trees and watched them go.

The sun grew warmer as the day drew on, and they saw more people as they walked. The calm water was disturbed by occasional tourists and trippers sailing their rented narrowboats from one pub to the next – overweight men with spotless rugby shirts and determinedly cheery wives in expensive casual clothing, or outdoor enthusiasts with a lot less style but more genuine faces. And yet, they were all of them – the trippers, the cyclists, the walkers – just passing through. This place really belonged to the barge families.

She’d seen them before – crusty old souls with tanned, leathery faces who sat like organic extensions of their boats, staring down at the water, oblivious to passers-by. Then there were the younger ones – travellers with beautifully grungy clothing, who sat on the grassy bank with their guitars or bent over crafting things from wood and old metal. A little boy with dreadlocks watched her from an open gangway and smiled at her as she caught his eye. There was an elusive sense of contentment about them that awoke a longing in her, but their life was a million miles from hers, even though she passed within a few feet of them.

‘Must be strange growing up on a boat,’ Rob murmured as she returned the boy’s smile.

‘I suppose,’ she agreed, though the idea of waking up and looking out onto the water seemed very appealing.

‘No satellite TV, no Internet,’ he mused. ‘It must be like growing up in the seventies.’

Kim cast a glance back over her shoulder at the barges moored along the towpath behind them.

‘They look happy though.’

She found herself wondering about her own happiness. It was a beautiful day, and she had everything she could ever want.

Everything she could ever want, and something she never wanted.

She wished she didn’t know about it. She wished he had never told her, but it was her own fault for pushing him so hard.

She glanced up at him as he walked beside her, his eyes turned away to look out across the valley.

No wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell her – he’d been trying to protect her. Suddenly it was all so obvious. He’d been shielding her, but she’d forced the issue. It must have been so difficult for him, but that just proved how much he cared for her.

And she’d nearly ruined everything by going to the police.

Without knowing what he’d done, without understanding the reasons, she’d taken his trust and betrayed him. She bit her lip as she walked, and slipped her hand into his.

It wasn’t something she could forget, but it was in the past – she had to try and move on.

‘Mind your back.’ Rob put his arm around her and drew her in towards the side of the towpath as a cyclist came past from behind them, followed by two more, peddling at speed – muscular bodies swaying from side to side in their Lycra, a welcome distraction from more troubled thoughts.

‘Do you think it’s some sort of race event?’ she asked, rejoining the path with a wary look in both directions. It would be a bother if they had to dodge speeding cyclists all day.

‘Doubt it,’ Rob replied. ‘I expect it’s just random people out for a bike ride.’

‘They seemed to be taking it pretty seriously.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘they all looked so similar, all dressed up in the same Lycra shorts, the same headgear.’

Rob looked at her thoughtfully, then nodded.

‘Maybe they think it makes them go faster.’

Kim shook her head and grinned.

‘Maybe they’d go faster if they went on the road, instead of dodging in and out of walkers on a footpath.’

She squeezed Rob’s hand and they walked on, dappled in the sunlight that filtered down through the trees.

There were a few wild flowers here and there along the grassy bank, but an explosion of colour greeted them as they came to a small house, walls of warm brown stone surrounded by blue delphiniums, where the canal angled sharply to the right. Around the corner, the narrow towpath broadened into hard ground, with a long metal rail guarding the edge of the deep still water, and they got their first glimpse of the aqueduct.

Thrusting out across the green valley, it carried the canal high above the trees and fields and the snaking river below, a mighty fortress of stonework with paved footpaths on either side of the continuous calm water. A collection of sturdy old buildings huddled about the near side, with a couple of small shops and a country pub set back into the slope of the hillside.

They wandered along the footpath, moving slowly out onto the aqueduct as a brightly painted barge came gliding along the canal beside them, its engine puttering quietly, leaving long, lazy ripples in its wake. Kim turned away from it, moving over to the thick parapet to stand beside Rob. The old stone felt cool beneath her hand as she looked down through the trees at the River Avon spilling across a broad weir and drifting under the arches below them.

Rob stared out along the valley, then glanced down at his watch.

‘Are you feeling hungry yet?’ he asked.

She looked at him, then followed his gaze towards the nearby pub. It had a stepped garden, set into the side of the valley, with tables and chairs overlooking the broad water below the weir. Walking in the fresh air had reawakened her appetite.

‘That might be nice,’ she nodded. ‘Shall we go and see what it’s like?’

They retraced their steps along the footpath and turned aside at the end of the bridge, following a tarmac slope that led down beside a line of whitewashed stone buildings and a New Age shop that sold crystals. The pub itself was a long, uneven building nestled in against the hillside. Beneath the high gables, a white wall bore the name ‘The Cross Guns’ in large black letters.

A low doorway led into the bar, and Rob stood aside to let her go first. However, as she stepped across the threshold, a stocky man with a ruddy complexion and a faded T-shirt appeared from within, jostling into her as he emerged into the sunlight. Beer slopped over the side of the glasses he was carrying and trickled down over his large hands.

‘Aw, for fuck’s sake—’ he bellowed, straightening up to glare down at her as she backed away, feeling clumsy, foolish.

And then Rob was there.

‘Hey.’ His voice was quiet but firm. The big man glanced at him, then back to her again.

‘HEY!’

The snap of command stopped the advancing man dead. He glared, but hesitated as Rob stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of her.

‘You should apologise to my girlfriend,’ he said, speaking quietly again, but in a tone that was gravely serious. The man scowled for a moment, then seemed to sag a little.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, his angry eyes downcast. ‘Didn’t see you there.’

Kim found that she had been holding her breath.

‘It’s OK,’ she stammered. ‘Really, no harm done.’

Rob stood aside once more and held out his hand, gesturing for her to go first. The big man wordlessly moved out of her way to let her pass inside.

She stepped over the threshold into the cosy little bar area, turning to make sure that Rob was following. Something about the encounter frightened her – the way the man had reacted, as though he’d seen something in her partner that she had missed. And yet, she knew more, knew how far he could really go. Had the man sensed who was speaking to him? And if he hadn’t, if he’d stood his ground, how far might Rob have gone?

Her breathing had become swift and shallow, but then Rob came through the doorway, his smile calm, assured, and the idea suddenly seemed stupid.

‘You OK, Kim?’

She was being silly. He was just protecting her, like he always did.

‘I’m fine.’ She managed a small smile.

He drew her close to him and planted a kiss on the top of her head, then took her hand and led her over to the bar where a middle-aged woman acknowledged them through a gap beneath a shelf of suspended glasses.

‘What shall we have?’ he asked.

They ate outside, at a small wooden table some way down the garden, close to the riverbank. The rushing noise of the weir came to them faintly from further upstream, beyond the weeping willow trees that trailed their long fingers in the swirling water.

Kim watched Rob cutting into a rare sirloin, then contemplated the steak and ale pie on her own plate. It was delicious, but her thoughts were still elsewhere.

‘Rob?’

He looked up at her.

‘That man up there,’ she glanced up towards the pub on the slope above them. ‘I can’t believe how you got him to apologise to me.’

Rob shrugged.

‘Did you mind?’ he asked her.

‘No, I didn’t mind …’

In the distance, a two-tone horn blared out a warning, and Kim caught flashes of colour through the trees as a train rattled along the opposite side of the valley.

‘What if he’d got out of hand?’ she asked.

Rob held up a finger to indicate that his mouth was full.

‘Not him,’ he replied after swallowing. ‘His type is all mouth. And I didn’t like him getting mouthy with you.’

Always protecting her.

‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘But it wasn’t necessary for him to apologise.’

‘I think it was,’ he said seriously.

Kim lowered her eyes and took a mouthful of her pie.

‘All that is required for idiots to prevail is for smart people to do nothing.’

Kim looked up at him, questioningly. ‘What?’

Rob smiled and shook his head.

‘I’m paraphrasing,’ he chuckled. ‘There’s an old saying: “All that is required for evil to prevail is for good people to do nothing.”’

She stared at him for a moment as he cut another piece of steak, considering his words, then turned her eyes away to look out across the river.

Sometimes it was hard to switch off. Walking through the drifting Saturday-night crowds in the city centre, Harland found himself tensing at every raised voice, every drunken shout. It wasn’t his job – he wasn’t on duty – but the instinct clawed at him.

They’d arranged to meet at a bar on King Street, and the old town was packed. Harland stepped between the groups of smokers outside and walked past the doorman, who was busy impressing a couple of girls. Inside, the place was noisy – a wall of indistinct voices, bass and the clatter of glasses. He glimpsed Mendel, Gregg and some of the others at the far end of the bar and started to make his way over, squeezing through the crush of warm bodies, muttering a futile succession of ‘Excuse me’s.

‘Graham!’ Mendel had spotted him now. ‘Over here.’

Harland waved in acknowledgement and forged his way to the bar.

‘Evening,’ he nodded when he reached them.

‘All right, sir.’ Gregg smiled then returned to a conversation with his girlfriend.

Harland eased in beside Mendel and looked around.

‘Been here long?’ he asked.

Mendel raised his glass, which was almost empty.

‘Not that long,’ he surmised. ‘What are you drinking?’

‘I’ll get them,’ Harland replied. ‘Same again?’

‘Thanks.’

Harland manoeuvred himself so that he was half facing the bar, money in hand.

‘So how old are you, anyway?’ he asked.

‘Same as I always was,’ Mendel shrugged. ‘My birthday’s not until tomorrow, and by then I’ll be too hung-over to care.’

The bar staff looked so young – harried waifs in black T-shirts, scurrying back and forth through the noise – but Harland finally managed to get served. He pocketed his change, then turned to pass one of the pint glasses across.

‘Cheers.’

But Mendel was looking over his shoulder, his face breaking into a grin.

‘I don’t believe it.’ He lifted his voice and called out, ‘Ray, you long-lost hooligan.’

DCI Raymond Pearce was an East End diamond in his late forties, with dark grey hair and an ancient scar that ran down his left cheek. He moved lightly, but there was an imposing solidity to him, like a retired rugby player who hasn’t let himself go. Harland watched him calmly shouldering his way between two groups of people, then halting to raise an eyebrow theatrically as a skinny youth almost backed into him. He emerged from the crowd beaming at Mendel.

‘Evening, James,’ he chuckled. ‘How’s the birthday boy then?’

‘Mustn’t grumble,’ Mendel smiled. ‘Didn’t expect to see you tonight.’

‘Well, if that’s how you feel …’ Pearce turned, pretending to leave, and noticed Harland for the first time. ‘Blimey, didn’t see you there, Graham.’