Someone Else's Conflict (33 page)

He took a deep breath and started on the stairs. He managed to get about halfway up before he had to stop for a rest. Catching his breath sent sharp pains through his bruised ribs. He clung to the iron handrail to steady himself. It was cool, soothing. He rested both hands and his forehead on it for a moment.

The door at the top was closed, but a sliding wooden sign announced that the shop was open. There was a pane covered with signs and hangings. He peered through a tiny section of unobstructed glass and saw a large room full of the kind of stuff he admired but couldn't imagine ever owning. His mother would have loved to see this. He was thinking about her far too much recently. Hardly surprising, but he had to stop it.

A movement drew his eye to the counter. The person behind it was a woman. Good. She even looked a bit like his mother, too. How his mother might have looked if she'd had the chance to live and work in a place like this. But she hadn't and that was it. There was no sound on the stairs or in the lobby below him and he allowed himself a moment to gather his strength and rehearse what he was going to say. He still found the store of English words in his head could desert him when he needed them. When he was under stress.

He straightened his jacket and ran a hand over his hair before pushing the door open. A bell jangled harshly above his head. He glanced at the woman behind the counter, hoping he hadn't jumped visibly. The air was thick with a pleasant scent. He liked it but needed fresh air. Even though he was still so cold. He squared his shoulders and walked towards the counter, concentrating on not stumbling. That would be a disaster. He had to act normal. This had to go right or he was in trouble. He ran the conversation through his head one more time.

‘Excuse me.'

It was a relief to get to the counter, to have something to lean on. He tried to look casual about it.

‘How can I help?'

The woman was smiling. She seemed friendly but he could tell she was nervous. He'd already hesitated too long.

‘I…'
tražim
…
suche
‘I look for my friend.'

She nodded slightly, eyebrows raised. He could smell that she'd been smoking recently and longed more than anything to ask her for a cigarette.

‘Do you know where is Jay?'

That unsettled her. So he'd come to the right place.

‘No, I'm afraid I don't.'

He wished he knew how to reassure her.

‘Please, I hope you tell me? I make no trouble.'

She relaxed slightly.

‘I think I know someone I can ask.'

Feeling slightly nauseous, he watched her looking in a book, picking a phone up. Hurry up, please get on with it… The room swayed around him and he gave in, allowing himself to slide down the front of the counter and let the floor take his weight. He made himself sit; it would be hard enough to explain that, let alone lying sprawled like some sad drunk. Why should I have to explain anything, he thought in a flash of anger. Jay will be here soon. He drew his knees up and rested his head, riding the pain, concentrating on staying alert. He heard the woman's voice behind him. Too briefly. The phone beeped off. It sounded like she'd left a message. He felt like swearing but held it in. He should call out to her, but didn't have the strength.

It seemed like an hour before she came round the counter, her steps hesitant. He looked up. It's OK I'm all right I'm OK. He saw the scissors in her hand and panicked; tried to back away.

‘You gave me a fright there.'

He breathed more easily as she dropped them on the counter with a clatter that made the room sound ridiculously huge.

‘I'm sorry. I… I don't feel good. You didn't phone someone?'

‘No answer.'

He put a hand on the floor and struggled to get up. If only he wasn't so weak.

‘You can't stay there.'

She reached out and he grasped her hand, gritting his teeth at the pain of her grip. He snatched his hand away as soon as he was standing and able to support himself against the counter. When she wasn't looking he pulled his sleeve down over the blisters. He didn't want her to start asking the wrong questions.

‘You'd better come through to the back.'

She led him through to a storeroom and indicated a wooden chair by a sink. He sat gratefully. The air was cooler here. He breathed deeply, flinched as his ribs complained.

‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing. I am tired. Do you have water? Please.'

He hated asking. She filled a mug from the sink. The harsh sound of the running tap made him brace himself against the memory. He savoured his next breath, remembering to keep it shallow. She passed him the mug and he drank greedily. It cleared his head a little. She offered him another; he shook his head.

‘You have a cigarette, please?'

He really hated asking but his voice ran away from him. Not a good time for willpower. She pushed open a door that said Fire Exit and lit one for herself, too.

‘Now, tell me who you are and why you're here.'

‘Jay said of Barton Mill. I think you are his girlfriend.'

‘She used to be here. That was who I tried phoning just now.'

He fought down the disappointment.

‘So you are not she.'

The woman shook her head with a smile.

‘I must find him,' he insisted.

‘Why?'

He took a drag of the cigarette. How could he even begin?

‘What's going on?' she said.

He exhaled and watched the swirling smoke get drawn to the door.

‘You can trust me. I want to help you.' He was sure she wouldn't if she knew. ‘Listen, we didn't get off to a very good start. I'm Lucy. You are?'

He smoked in silence. Why? Why did she need to know that?

‘Vinko?'

The sound of his name made him look at her. ‘How are you know this?'

‘People are looking for you. You asked for Jay. I guessed. But I don't know anything more. You've got to tell me why you're here.'

‘I do tell you.'

‘Well there's no Jay here. So what now?'

Vinko stared at her in silence. She went over to a phone and stood with her hand hovering above it. ‘I'm sorry, I can't let you stay unless you talk to me. If you don't you'll have to leave, or I'll …'

She nodded towards the phone.

‘Please. I talk to you.'

Better her than anyone else. Till Jay got here. He was surprised to find the idea of talking was a relief. She put her fag out and closed the fire exit door. He crushed his own in the ashtray as she disappeared into the shop. He vaguely wondered again if he could trust her but he was past caring. He heard the distant sound of a key being turned. He stared at the floor, head supported in his hands, elbows on his knees.

‘Your clothes are damp.'

She was back. He glanced up, his mind foggy as if he'd been asleep.

‘
Nije važno
.' She frowned. Wrong words. ‘
Mach' nichts
. It doesn't…'

‘Matter? Yes it does. Wait here, I'll get you something dry.'

‘No!' He'd asked enough of her and he'd managed this long. ‘It…it is right. You don't worry. I'm OK.'

She insisted and got him a blanket from a corner of the room. He was glad to feel the comforting weight as he dragged it round himself.

‘So. You promised to tell me why you're here.'

How could he begin to tell her? What could he say? Let alone how. He grasped the blanket at his neck, savouring the warmth, and realised too late that his sleeve had slipped down. She was staring at his arm.

‘All right, let's try again. How do you come to have wet gear? How did you get those?'

The pain had been a constant presence, but the attention made it worse. He eased his sleeve to cover the scabs. Though he knew the backs of his hands were still showing. Explain that.

‘Oh, Jesus!' She rolled her eyes. ‘Vinko, please! If you won't tell
me
, would you talk to the police?'

‘No! I tell you.'

Lucy nodded, and he was sure her kindness was genuine. She offered him another cigarette and he began to talk.

Chapter 28

Marilyn's heart sank as she turned into the yard and saw Matt's car. He got out as she walked up.

‘What are you doing here?' she demanded.

‘I knew you were on your way back – I phoned you at Sue's and the cleaner told me I'd just missed you. I'm on my way up the dale to see a guy who does woodcarving, wants us to sell his stuff, and I thought I'd pop in.'

‘Thanks, Matt,' she said with heavy irony, ‘but I can look after myself.'

He gave her a look that suggested he wasn't so sure.

‘Any chance of a quick coffee?'

‘Matt, please…'

‘We didn't part on the best of terms the other day. I wanted to apologise if I came across a bit heavy-handed.'

She thought of Jay waiting for her. Surely he'd have the sense to keep out of the way. A meeting between the two of them was the last thing she needed.

‘Look, I accept your apology, but to be honest I came home to get a bit of space,' she said as she put her key in the lock and opened the door a little. ‘No lurking terrorists, see? I'm fine.'

‘But—'

‘I thought you had an appointment.'

‘I made sure I left time to spare.'

‘You'll have to be early, then, won't you?'

She stood firm, blocking the doorway.

‘I'm sorry, but Sue's right. I don't think you should be here on your own, Lynnie.'

‘Hasn't it occurred to you I don't give a flying fuck what you think?'

He stared at her. She stopped herself from laughing nervously under the tension.

‘Please will you stop wittering over me like an old woman? Get off and see your woodcarving bloke. I'll ring you if there's anything you need to know, all right?'

She stood firm and watched him leave. Once he was safely out of sight she went through to the living room and called Jay. Silence. Her pulse quickened. He'd sounded strange on the phone yesterday. She realised how worried she was about him and wished she'd come home after all. But they'd both been tired; she'd thought she was doing the right thing. She went quickly upstairs. He wasn't in the spare room. She pushed open the bedroom door, scared of what she might find. An empty, unused bed was one of the bad options, but not the worst. The rucksack was dumped on the floor, not in its usual corner. She hurried back downstairs and paused as she noticed a muddy footprint on the carpet. Jay always took his boots off. She tensed. The sound of footsteps hurrying across the yard made her grab the poker from the fireplace. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, wondering what on earth she thought she'd do with the fire iron in her hand if it came to it, when the outside door opened.

Jay looked at her for a moment, then broke into a smile. ‘Going equipped these days? Wise move.'

‘Sorry.' She put the poker down. ‘There were footprints in there. It's not like you. I was nervous for a moment.'

‘Sorry myself. Housetraining can take longer than you think. Fraught with ups and downs.'

His humour sounded forced, but his pleasure at seeing her was real. She hardly had time to register the thought before they were in each other's arms. It was a relief to feel him against her.

‘You smell of outdoors,' she said eventually. ‘Fresh air. Have you been out long?'

‘Long enough. I camped out.'

‘Why on earth did you do that?'

‘Some would call it paranoia. I call it common sense. And I didn't want to trespass.'

‘Oh, Jay, I've told you to feel at home here. Don't you?'

‘I was probably being silly.' He kissed her. ‘Why was Matt here?'

‘He just came to see if I'm OK, is all. He had to visit someone out this way, so he called by. I wish he wouldn't fuss. I mean, he didn't even think about me for months, and I certainly don't want anything to do with him, and…' She realised she was talking too much about the wrong things. ‘Anyway, let's not talk about him now. Take your coat off and get the fire lit; I'll make a coffee.'

‘Can we go for a walk?'

His worrying distracted air was back.

‘Oh. Yes, if you want.'

‘I'd rather make sure we don't get interrupted. Unwanted visitors.'

‘I thought you said Vinko didn't know this place.'

‘I don't think he does. And I'm sure he and his friends want the money too much to do anything stupid. But you never know. And you said yourself you might get a visit from the police. Oh hell, I'm sorry for this mess, Polly. All that's followed me here. It's not fair. On you.'