The Black Path (26 page)

‘Budge up,’ Siân says, squeezing in beside her. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were going straight back to the hotel.’

‘I was,’ Helen lies. ‘But then I realized I’d forgotten my key.’

Siân eyes her suspiciously. ‘But they know you at the hotel. Someone would have let you into the room.’

‘Of course!’ Helen blinks. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. I wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘You weren’t spying on me, were you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Really?’

Helen clears her throat, plays for time, plasters a smile to her face. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to say sorry. For the way I was before, in the taxi. Getting hysterical like that. You must think I’m a right pain.’

‘It could have waited.’

‘I know. But I didn’t know how late you’d be, and I didn’t want to leave it until the morning. You’ve been so good to me. I’d hate you to think I didn’t appreciate it.’

‘I see,’ says Siân. ‘Apology accepted. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re sitting here on your own.’

Helen snaps her handbag shut and places it on her lap. ‘I couldn’t find you. Then, seeing as I was here, I thought I might as well stay and have a few drinks.’ She gestures at the glass of orange juice on the table in front of her.

‘Right,’ says Siân. ‘And how were you planning to pay for them?’

‘What?’

‘You only have a few coins in your purse and you left your cards at the hotel.’

And how the hell do you know?
Helen thinks. ‘Did I?’

Siân looks at her as if she can’t decide whether she’s incredibly stupid or far cleverer than she’s given her credit for. ‘They’re in the safe,’ she says. ‘Poor Helen. You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on. So how did you pay for your drink?’

‘I didn’t. The landlord gave it to me. On the house.’

‘Really? Strange men buying you drinks. What would your husband say?’

Helen tenses. ‘It’s just an orange juice. I don’t think he’d mind.’

‘Don’t look so worried. I won’t tell him if you don’t.’

‘I’m not worried. There’s nothing to tell.’

‘Ssh!’ Siân winks and nudges her shoulder. ‘It’ll be our little secret.’

Sure
, Helen thinks.
Yours, mine and Jackson’s
.

She glances into the next booth. Jackson has gone. She wonders if he and Siân were aware of her presence all along, wonders how much of their conversation was for her benefit. She thinks for a moment, decides to push back a little.

‘What happened to your friend?’ she asks, as casually as she can.

‘What friend?’

‘I thought you said you were meeting someone. That soldier from the hospital.’

Siân frowns. ‘I never said that. You must be hearing things. I’m quite capable of going out for a drink on my own. We don’t all need a man to take care of us.’

‘I just thought –’

‘Never mind what you thought. Your head’s all over the place.’ Siân reaches for her bag. ‘I’ve got some more of those tablets here. Take a couple before bed. They’ll help calm you down.’

She stands and hoists the bag onto her shoulder. ‘C’mon, let’s go.’

Helen looks up at her, sees the way her eyes flit around the room, the anxious way she chews her lip. For someone who’d been so eager to stop off at the pub in the first place, she suddenly seems desperately keen to leave. Is she worried in case Jackson reappears and exposes her for the liar she is? Helen has no real desire to stay either. She wants to put as much distance between herself and Jackson as possible. But she can’t resist testing Siân’s nerve, just to see how she’ll respond.

‘What’s the rush?’ Helen says. ‘Let’s stay and have another drink.’

‘Nah, it’s best if we get you back to the hotel. You look knackered. Shall I call us a cab? Or did Osama offer you a free ride?’

‘What?’

Siân smirks. ‘The cab driver. Since you’re cadging free drinks, I thought maybe you’d come to some arrangement.’

‘No.’

‘Good. Cos there’s no such thing as a free ride with some people.’ She grabs Helen’s arm and hauls her to her feet. ‘C’mon, then. Let’s go.’

As they turn to leave, Helen replays Siân’s conversation with Jackson over in her head, wonders if there’s even the slightest possibility that she misheard or misinterpreted what was said. She thinks how much easier it would be to put this all down to a misunderstanding or pretend that it never happened. But she can’t. She knows what she heard, knows she’s only grasping at straws.

Progress towards the door is slow. The pub is even busier now than when Helen arrived. Voices are raised. Snippets of conversation sound in her ears. ‘I don’t know why people are so stuck up about Edgbaston –’; ‘She’s a right misery guts but so is he, so they’re well suited –’; ‘Dave would kill me if he found out –’

‘Get out of the way!’ Siân snaps, digging an elbow into a startled-looking man in glasses. ‘Mind my fucking foot!’

A woman’s face appears, smiling broadly. It’s the same woman Helen saw coming out of the ladies with Siân earlier. But as she comes forward and opens her mouth to say something, Siân scowls at her. ‘Not now!’

The woman looks confused. ‘But –’

‘Are you deaf?’ Siân hisses. ‘I said not now!’

It’s not a huge scene. The room doesn’t fall silent. Most people seem oblivious to the fact that the exchange has even taken place. But as the woman melts away into the crowd, Helen realizes she’s holding her breath.

‘Wait,’ she says, stopping dead in her tracks.

Siân turns to her, clinging to her wrist. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘There’s no point in us both going. It’s still early. You should stay and enjoy yourself. I can make my own way. I just need to borrow some money for a taxi.’

‘What do you think I am? A cash dispenser?’ Siân raises her eyebrows. ‘I can’t let you go back on your own, not after the day you’ve had.’ She tightens her grip on Helen’s wrist and pulls her towards the door. ‘C’mon. I’ll call us a cab.’

Outside, the air is cool and a group of women are huddled together in a haze of cigarette smoke. One has bare arms. The others wear lightweight jackets or cardigans.

‘You’re shivering,’ Siân says.

‘I’m fine,’ Helen lies.

‘Hang on.’

Siân stops and rummages in her bag before taking out a large cotton scarf and wrapping it around Helen’s shoulders.

‘We can’t have you walking around like that. You’ll catch your death.’

Helen flinches.

‘See?’ says Siân. ‘I knew you were cold.’

It’s not the cold
, Helen thinks.
It’s you
.

She wants to scream,
Get your hands off me, you two-faced bitch!
Instead she forces a smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘All part of the service.’ Siân takes out her phone, dials and presses it to her ear. ‘I need a cab from The Admiral Tavern. Quick as you can. Yeah, well, there are other cab firms, y’know. Right. Okay. We’ll be waiting outside.’

She slides the phone back into her pocket. ‘They’ll be here in a few minutes.’ She smiles and rolls her eyes. ‘As if I’d leave you here on your own! The state you’re in, anything could happen.’

‘But I only had an orange juice.’

‘I didn’t say you were drunk. I meant the way you are generally. People pick up on it, y’know. Men especially. They can tell when a woman’s vulnerable. They can smell it on you.’

Helen glares at her, but refrains from arguing. Even in the fading light of the forecourt, it’s clear that Siân is far from sober. And it’s not just the alcohol talking. Her pupils are dilated. There’s spittle in the corners of her mouth. She looks like someone on drugs. Is that what she was doing in the ladies earlier, with the woman she just turned on?

‘Imagine if you’d ended up in one those unlicensed taxis,’ Siân says. ‘You know what happens to women who climb into cars with strange men, don’t you? How do you think I’d feel if something like that happened to you? How would I explain it to Owen? I promised him I’d take care of you. Now, where’s that fucking cab?’

As Siân turns and scans the road, the door to the pub swings open and a man emerges. It’s Jackson. A cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth. He fumbles in his trouser pocket and takes out a lighter.

Helen watches as he cups his hands and lights his cigarette. It’s then that his eyes meet hers. There’s a moment’s hesitation, then a knowing smirk spreads across his face and he saunters towards her.

‘Helen McGrath! As I live and breathe!’

Helen’s eyes flick to Siân and back to Jackson. His choice of words isn’t lost on her. Nor is his tone. He has a way of being flirtatious without being remotely friendly.

‘Jackson,’ she replies. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’m on leave. You?’

Helen frowns. ‘Owen. He was –’

‘Oh, yeah!’ Jackson nods and sucks on his cigarette. ‘Sorry about that. Bummer.’

‘So why aren’t you at home?’ Helen asks, ignoring the hint of a smile on his lips. ‘Leanne must be missing you.’

Siân continues to scan the road for the taxi. To Helen’s surprise, she hasn’t even acknowledged Jackson’s presence, nor he hers. Anyone would think they were sworn enemies or total strangers without the slightest interest in one another.

‘Don’t you worry about Leanne.’ There’s a glint in Jackson’s eye. ‘She knows what comes with being married to a soldier.’

‘You haven’t forgotten you’re married, then?’ Helen says coolly.

Jackson’s face darkens. There’s still no reaction from Siân.

‘I’m sorry,’ Helen says. ‘This is my friend Siân. I thought you two knew each other. Didn’t you meet at the hospital?’

Siân glances at Jackson and shakes her head. ‘No.’

Jackson smirks. ‘You’ve got your wires crossed, Helen. Maybe it’s the stress.’ He pinches the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb, takes one last drag and tosses the stub away. ‘Don’t forget to say hi to Owen for me. Tell him I’ll be seeing him soon.’

A horn sounds as the cab pulls up. Siân rushes forward and flings open the passenger door.

‘C’mon, Helen,’ she calls. ‘Get in the car!’

Jackson winks. ‘Run along, Helen! Do as your friend says. I’ll catch you later.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The short drive to Helen’s house takes longer than expected. The roads are choked with traffic. As he turns off the main road and into the street where she lives, Frank sees a group of teenage lads playing football on the patch of grass in front of her house. He glances at the clock. It’s past nine – time these boys were in school, surely? He slams his foot on the brake as one lad runs into the road in front of the car, chasing after the ball. Frank hits his horn. The boy flips him the finger before grabbing the ball and running back to join the others.

Where are the parents? Frank wonders. Do they even care what their kids get up to? His own father would have clipped him around the ear if he’d shown that much disrespect to an adult. And he’d have hit the roof if Frank had skipped school, or come home with grass stains on his shirt. Not that his father was ever a bully. ‘Firm but fair’ was his motto. But there were times when Frank was afraid of him. Long before he became a parent himself, he’d already decided that he would never raise a hand to his own child.

Helen’s car is parked outside the house. Maybe she’s home after all, Frank thinks. Maybe she has the same stomach bug Amanda suffered from a few weeks ago. But as he drives closer he spots the milk on the doorstep. She’d have to be really sick not to take the milk in. Something isn’t right.

He parks the car and peers in through the front window. The curtains are open but there are no lights on and no sign of anyone inside. Through the frosted glass panel of the front door, he sees a pile of post on the mat. He fishes in his pocket for the spare key. Helen doesn’t know he has it. It was Owen who’d taken him aside one Sunday afternoon and pressed it into his hand, shortly before he left for Afghanistan. ‘Y’know,’ he’d said. ‘Just in case of an emergency.’

Frank pauses. Is this an emergency? He doesn’t know. Still there’s a strong sense that something isn’t right, coupled with the equally powerful sense that Helen wouldn’t be too pleased to find him letting himself into her house. He presses the doorbell and listens for a response. When none comes he knocks hard on the door. Then he kneels down and peers through the letterbox. ‘Helen?’ he calls. ‘Helen! Are you in there?’

Someone coughs. Frank looks up to see a man his own age, with sallow skin and thin greying hair tied back in a ponytail. In one hand he holds the remains of a roll-up.

‘There’s no point knocking,’ he says. ‘There’s nobody in.’

Frank climbs to his feet. ‘And you are?’

The other man doesn’t offer his hand. ‘Rob. I live next door.’

‘Do you know where Helen is?’

‘Who’s asking?’ Rob grins at him.

‘Frank. I’m –’ He hesitates. ‘I’m Helen’s stepfather. So do you know where she is?’

‘Couldn’t say. Someone came and took her away, early hours of Sunday morning. I heard them talking outside.’

‘What do you mean, “took her away”? Who was it?’

Rob takes a drag on his roll-up. ‘Someone from the army, by the looks of it. They went in the house, then she came out with a bag and they drove off.’

‘I see,’ Frank says. So it is an emergency after all. Owen has been injured – or worse. No wonder Helen hasn’t called. The poor girl must be in bits.

‘Was she alone?’ Frank asks. He hates the thought of her being all alone at a time like this.

‘There was a girl with her,’ Rob replies. ‘Black hair. Big mouth on her. I didn’t catch her name.’

Frank racks his brains. This doesn’t sound like any of the women Helen works with, and he isn’t aware of her having any other friends.

‘Did you see anything else?’ he asks.

Rob shrugs. ‘No. But the other girl left a wrap of coke on my doorstep.’ He grins, exposing large yellow teeth. ‘No coke in it though, more’s the pity.’

‘Right,’ says Frank. ‘Well, thanks for your help.’

‘Aren’t you going to look inside the house?’

‘No. I think I’d better be on my way.’ Frank returns the key to his trouser pocket and begins walking towards his car.

‘What about the milk?’ Rob calls after him.