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She smiled, a conspiratorial smile, leaning in close to make her confession. “I’ve got a dog too. Maybe we could go walk them someday.”
She could have knocked me over with a feather. “You don’t seem like the dog type.”
“Neither do you,” she said. “Mine’s a pedigree, of course. Yorkshire terrier. Dad doesn’t know about it.”
“Seems we’ve all got our secrets, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t all families?” she smiled. “Seriously, though, if you want to keep a smooth ride please do just come along to the Southbank opening. It will get us all off your case, especially Dad.”
I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
She turned back in the doorway for a passing comment. “I’d go after him, if I were you. The guy looked like you’d ripped his bloody heart out. Looks like he’d eat glass for breakfast, but you, you’ve floored him. Well and truly.”
It was the most sensible suggestion I’d heard from her in years.
***
I called and I called, pacing around the apartment and biting my nails until they hurt. I left messages he’d probably never hear, just so desperate to hear him pick up.
“Callum, I’m sorry. I fucked up, ok? It’s my stupid family, not you. I love you. Please come home.”
Nothing.
I took his things from the wardrobe, lay them back where they’d been. He had nothing much, just a couple of t-shirts and a spare pair of jeans. A few odd socks and a can of deodorant. I’d even hidden his toothbrush for Alex’s visit. I took it out of the medicine cupboard and put it back on the rack. Shit, what a bitch I was.
I’d thrown his flowers down by the bin out of sight. They were wilting already, battered and pathetic looking. I put them in water, willed them to survive.
They had to survive.Wehad to survive.
When I hadn’t heard from him by eleven I called a taxi. I sat silent in the backseat, staring out of the window and hating myself for the stupid choices I’d made, but hating myself more for being such a coward.
The garage was locked up and dark, no sign of life. I rode on, jumping out at the retail units and taking the rest on foot. I had no idea where I was looking, but the moment the taxi pulled away I felt totally out of my depth. This place was red-flagged in the daylight, coming here after dark was insanity.
A collection of girls from tower one were drinking on the benches. I approached with caution, and they laughed as they caught sight of me.
“Have any of you seen Callum Jackson?”
One girl spat out her vodka, giggling her stupid slutty face off. “I seen him. Enough of him to want to see him again...”
“Tonight,” I said. “Have you seen him tonight?”
“Had a lover’s tiff, ’ave ya?”
“Just tell me, will you?”
The girl stood up, breathing alcohol fumes too close for comfort. “You can’t tell me what to do here, Miss Snotty. You ain’t on office time.”
“Please,” I tried. “I need to find him.”
“Saw him earlier,” her blonde friend said. “Over by tower two. You know the alley, down by the old newsagents?”
I did know it. Knew it well enough to remember landing my ass on the tarmac. “Yes, thank you.”
I ignored the catty comments all the way down the street, relieved to cross out of earshot. The relief didn’t last long, not when I registered movement in the shadows. Two figures, big and dressed in black. I tried to ignore them, holding my head high as though my confidence was a shield. Maybe it would be.
I changed my mind on that as they closed in by the old alleyway, heading me off at the pass.
“Alright, Miss Perky Tits,” one of them sneered. “We got something for ya. Wanna see?”
