The Reckoning (27 page)

The rest of what I was going to tell him was lost for ever because he stopped me mid-sentence by pulling my face down to him and kissing me. I wrapped my legs around him, holding on to him, every nerve end singing at his touch. It was as intense as a first kiss, as shatteringly exciting, but this time the stakes were higher. Either this worked or it never would. And where once I might have run a mile from the very idea of a proper relationship, now, somehow, I didn’t feel the need. Maybe it was because of the knock on the head, but everything was much clearer than it had been even that morning. There was Rob and there was me, and being together made us both happy. Nothing else really mattered, not at that moment, anyway.

In the end, it was the smell of burning that distracted us from each other. Rob swore and grabbed the smoking frying pan, dumping it in the sink. ‘That’s one omelette ruined, and I’m not too sure the pan will recover.’

‘Leave it. Who cares?’ I was light-headed with emotion, giddy with relief. More than anything, I wanted him to kiss me again.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘Not remotely.’ I blinked at him, still slightly dopey, and couldn’t think of anything to tell him but the truth. ‘It was just an excuse to get you to stay.’

‘Fair enough.’ He came back to stand between my knees. ‘Where were we?’

I slid my arms around his neck. ‘About to do something much more fun than cooking.’

‘Heresy.’

‘No, I don’t think it was that.’

He moved back so there was just enough room for me to slide off the counter, then pinned me against it so he could kiss me again. His hands slipped under my top, exploring.

‘Find anything you like?’ I managed to say when we came up for air, and was quite proud of myself for putting a coherent sentence together.

‘A couple of things.’ He grinned and I reflected ruefully that it was practically impossible to catch Rob out, no matter what the circumstances were. ‘Should I leave in a huff now, or do you think we might make it as far as your bedroom this time?’

‘I’d say there’s a good chance of getting into the room at least before anyone storms off.’

‘Well, that’d be progress.’ Rob followed me down the hall.

I turned at the door to apologise for the untidiness of the room and was literally swept off my feet. ‘Hey!’

‘I’m doing masterful tonight.’ He undercut it immediately. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Not much.’ A little too late, I said, ‘Watch the door – ow.’

‘Shit. Sorry.’ He let me slip to the floor and rubbed the back of my head, which had clunked against the doorframe. ‘Are you okay?’

I was giggling helplessly. ‘Just stop asking me that, all right?’

‘I will when you stop injuring yourself.’

‘Technically, you were responsible for it that time.’

‘Okay. We won’t count it. I notice we haven’t actually got through the door yet. So strictly speaking, we’re still where we were last time.’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ I stepped into the bedroom and pulled him after me. ‘You are a total idiot, and yet I still want to sleep with you. What does that make me?’

‘I’d have said sensible.’ He was removing clothes with single-minded efficiency; there was no one like Rob for stripping to the basics at speed. ‘Come on. Get them off.’

‘Are we back to masterful?’

He snorted. ‘Desperate, more like. Do you know how long it’s been?’

‘For me, yes. For you, I have no idea.’

He pulled his shirt over his head and stopped, suddenly serious. ‘Just so we’re clear, there’s no one else, Maeve. There’s only you.’

‘Good,’ I said lightly, feeling my heart flip over with happiness that took even me by surprise. ‘Keep it that way.’

‘Remind me why I should?’

‘Oh, I will.’ He looked up at that and I smiled wickedly, enjoying the expression on his face as he crossed the room to where I was standing.

Desperate he may have been, but there was no sign of it from how he behaved in bed. He was as considerate and intuitive as ever, as completely in tune with me as he had always seemed to be. I forgot the bruises, the worries I had about work, the strange little scene with my neighbours. I pretty much forgot my own name now and then, not that anyone was asking.

Afterwards, lying back in the circle of his arms, I sighed. ‘Why don’t we do that all the time?’

He kissed the top of my head. ‘Remember how you were saying you were an idiot?’

‘I said
you
were an idiot.’

‘I wasn’t listening properly. Anyway, it’s nothing to do with me. It’s all about you being stubborn.’

‘Smug git.’ I yawned. He kissed me again.

‘Go to sleep.’

‘Mm.’ I was thinking about what we had just done, how it had been the opposite of screaming, chandelier-swinging show-off sex and all the better for it. I had never felt as close to anyone as I did to him – close, but not stifled or overwhelmed. Deeply involved in the conversation in my head, I found myself mumbling, ‘What’s wrong with being quiet anyway?’

‘Nothing?’ he suggested, sounding mildly baffled and I was going to explain but instead, quite suddenly, I fell asleep. It was a deep and dreamless sleep, and when I woke up some time later, I was alone. I heard the shower running and sat up, confused. The clock on the bedside table said it was a quarter past one. I couldn’t think why Rob wasn’t lying beside me. I checked my phone twice to see if I’d missed any calls while I slept.

When the door opened, he came in soundlessly, gathering up clothes as he moved through the dark room. I waited until he was right beside the bed.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.’

I put the bedside light on. ‘Where’s the fire?’

He started to get dressed, as if what he was doing was perfectly normal and reasonable. ‘No fire. It’s just time to go.’

‘It’s one o’clock in the morning.’

‘Yeah. Time I left.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said flatly.

He was buckling his belt. ‘Have you seen my T-shirt?’

‘Over there somewhere.’ I pointed, distracted by his bare torso, the muscles moving under his skin. I made myself concentrate. ‘Explain, please. Where are you going?’

He turned around before he put his T-shirt on and his face was affectionate. ‘Look, I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself. I want to leave before you think I should go.’

‘But I don’t want you to go.’ I hugged the bedclothes to my chest, suddenly cold.

‘Not now, you don’t. But later on, you might change your mind. And I’d rather you missed me than that you were fed up with having me around.’

‘That’s not fair,’ I protested.

‘You’ve got form for it.’

‘People change. Maybe I’ve changed.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’ He was pulling his socks on. ‘But you’ll have to prove it. Anyway, it’ll make it easier to keep it quiet like you wanted.’

Dimly, I recalled what I had said before I slept. ‘That’s not what I meant, I think.’ I bit my lip. ‘Would it help to convince you to stay if I told you that at this moment, I don’t care who knows about us?’

‘“At this moment”? Not really.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Isn’t this what you wanted? No relationship, just uncomplicated sex?’

‘You know there’s no such thing.’

‘I do. But you seem to need convincing.’ He leaned across and kissed me one last time. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Today,’ I said sulkily.

A quick grin. ‘How right you are. See you later, then.’

He was gone before I could stop him, and I listened to the front door of the flat closing, then the muffled thud of the main door. A car engine started a minute later and I pictured him driving away. He was right; it was what I had wanted. I was free.

It felt an awful lot like being alone.

At half past seven the following morning I was back in hospital, but this time as a visitor rather than a patient. But I could have done with some medical care myself; I had a headache that painkillers couldn’t touch and my eyes felt gritty, as if I hadn’t slept at all. I took the lift to the fifth floor, risking only a brief glance in the mirror that confirmed I was as pale and drawn as I felt.

When the lift doors opened I hurried out and collided with Derwent, who had been pacing up and down the hall.

‘Look at the state of you. Did you get run over on the way?’

‘Thanks a lot. Do I have to remind you the boss said I was to take things easy this morning? I shouldn’t even be here.’

‘If you’d wanted to stay in bed, you could have said.’

‘Obviously, I didn’t. But you can’t expect
Vogue
-standard glamour in the circumstances.’

‘You don’t want to aim that high, love. Shoot for human and we’ll all be happy.’

I forbore to point out that he wasn’t exactly model material himself. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Forgrave is in room 422.’ Derwent started to head in that direction and I fell into step beside him.

‘On his own?’

‘A private room. Nothing but the best for our William. Also, it makes it easier to guard him.’

‘Do you really think Skinner would try to get at him again?’

He shrugged. ‘Better safe than sorry. John Skinner being in custody doesn’t make a blind bit of difference to what happens on the outside. If he wants to kill him, he get someone to do it for him.’

‘Cheery stuff.’

‘I won’t tell Mr Forgrave. Mind you, I don’t think he’d be much of a loss.’

We had arrived at room 422 and Derwent waited impatiently as the uniformed officer who was posted outside the door examined our warrant cards.

‘Good to go?’

‘Knock yourselves out.’

I might have thought it was a chance remark if the officer’s eyes hadn’t been trained on the bump on my head. It was the first dig of the day, but I could guarantee it wouldn’t be the only one. I followed Derwent into Forgrave’s room, thinking black thoughts and not actually caring if it showed on my face.

It was hard to tell what expression William Forgrave was wearing between his beard and the bruising. His eyes were so swollen they had narrowed to slits, the skin around them the colour of ripe plums. His lip was quilted with stitches and looked as if it hurt. One cheek had blown out, giving him a distinctly lopsided appearance. He was bare-chested, the dressings on his chest mercifully hiding the burns I had seen the previous day.

‘All right, William?’ Derwent picked up the chart from the end of the bed and flicked through it. He whistled. ‘I don’t speak medic but this looks nasty.’

‘Who are you?’ Forgrave’s voice was hoarse.

‘Police. We’re the ones who saved your bacon.’ Derwent sat on the edge of the bed, one foot swinging. I sat on the upright chair by the bed, moving it back so I wasn’t too close to Forgrave. He smelt of stale sweat and old blood, and his breath was rank. Derwent didn’t seem to care, leaning forward to say, ‘Remember when the cavalry turned up yesterday? We called them.’

Well, technically
I
did
. I decided not to tout for recognition, though. It just wasn’t worth it.

‘Ta.’ Forgrave didn’t sound particularly impressed.

‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ Derwent flipped through the chart again. ‘Actually, it’s probably all you can say considering the state of your face.’

‘I can manage.’ The words were blurry on the consonants but recognisable.

‘Excellent. In that case, you can answer a few questions for us. What happened yesterday?’

‘Got beaten up.’

‘Why?’

Forgrave rolled his head on the pillow. ‘Ask them.’

‘We will. But I want to hear your story. You’re the victim here.’

‘No story.’

‘You were tortured, William. That’s not normal. Did they tell you why they targeted you?’

A nod.

‘So you know it’s because you’re a registered child abuser.’

Another nod.

‘Do you know what William here did, Maeve? I’ve been looking him up.’

‘I don’t, actually.’

‘He raped a young girl.’

‘Technically.’ Forgrave’s hands had bunched into fists.

‘Actually. She was only fifteen.’

‘Almost sixteen.’

Derwent shook his head. ‘It was illegal. She couldn’t consent to it even if you convinced her it was a good idea. She was underage. That’s why you got convicted.’

‘I made a mistake.’

‘You targeted her, William. You found her on the Internet, in a kids’ chat room. And you thought she was younger than she actually was, didn’t you? You were looking for thirteen-year-olds. That’s your type.’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘Don’t think so. What happened in 1993?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You joined a fan club for a boy band so you could meet girls. You started writing to a thirteen-year-old in Scotland – all nice and friendly, pen pals. You groomed her. You told her you loved her. You told her you wanted to marry her. You persuaded her to lie to her parents and get a train to Manchester, where you had booked a hotel room. What you didn’t know was that she was going to turn up with her best friend. Imagine your surprise when you opened the door and found two of them. You must have thought it was Christmas.’

‘That’s not how it was.’

‘You tried to have sex with them, didn’t you? But you couldn’t get it up. And you found it too hard to control two of them anyway. You ended up losing your nerve and doing a runner.’

‘That’s your version.’

‘That’s what happened. The two girls were very clear about it. Plus, you left DNA all over the place.’ He turned to me. ‘The DNA database didn’t exist yet but William was unlucky. The samples were kept on file and when the database was set up, the local coppers remembered to register him. They knew it was just a matter of waiting until he tried it again. People like that always do.’

‘No.’ Forgrave sounded definite. ‘It was different.’

‘You met the next one on the Internet. You persuaded her to meet you. You had sex with her. The only thing that was different was how you contacted her – and that you were able to screw this one.’ Derwent leaned forward. ‘You’re a dangerous predator, William. You proved it. You got ten years. That’s not a light sentence.’

‘I got counselling in prison. I got parole after five years. I’ve changed. The parole board believed me.’