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‘It was all a long time ago. I don’t have the same means now,’ I’d told him, wondering how the hell I was going to get out of it. There was no way I wanted to get drawn back into his shady dealings again. I’d got a family to think of now. As it was, Darren and Vaughn had had me by the throat the first time round, and there was no way I was going to let it happen again. That’s when, after his engagement to my daughter, Darren had told me about the photographs of Belle, that I should look around at home for them. That they’d be all over the internet if I didn’t comply.
Admittedly, keeping up with the pretence of calling him Jack had been stressful at times, as well as staying quiet about everything else, though I was used to that. Taking delivery of the cash was an even bigger source of angst, as well as being told I only had a month to launder it.Nowasn’t a word in Darren or Vaughn’s vocabulary, and they had me over a barrel. How the hell was I going to wash half a million quid in such a short time? I’d considered getting Doug’s mates to sort them out, but without a doubt the trail would end up back with me. Besides, I didn’t know them well enough to trust them to do the job properly, and even if they had, the police would be onto us within minutes. In fact, it turns out they already were. The Met had several undercover cops tailing Vaughn and his cronies in London, and naturally they’d followed Darren to Bristol. Hence why Grant Webster, a cop, had been hanging around us, trying to figure out if we were somehow linked to Darren and his crooked dealings. They were doing similar to anyone the pair had been in contact with. But as far as we were concerned, their investigations had turned up nothing. And once the police had heard Hannah’s explanation in the hospital, they’d cooled off for now, believing it was just an innocent girl, Belle, getting sucked in by and engaged to a shady character who was now dead.
‘You know what they say about oysters,’ Hannah laughs after she’s swallowed it. She gives me one of her looks – a look that sets my pulse racing.
‘Let’s hope it’s true,’ I reply, taking one for myself.
We chat about the girls, and how relieved we are that Belle has decided to go back to school again next week. She’s determined to catch up with the work she didn’t do over the summer holidays and get back on track again for her exams next summer. A language degree is within her sights again, and while all her friends were delighted and relieved to have her in their circle once more, no one was more relieved than us.
‘The joy of being parents,’ Hannah jokes, and I desperately want to tell her how much I agree – that being a father to Amber and Belle means more to me than anything in the world. But, however hard I try, I still sense that there’s Amber –ours– and then there’s Belle–hers. It’s always been that way, and more than once I’ve had to bite my tongue about it.
I reach my hand down to my jacket pocket again, feeling inside. The little velvet box is still there with the diamond solitaire ring safely inside. Nothing like the disaster we had with Belle’s birthday gift, and I’m not taking any chances with it getting lost or stolen. At first, Belle didn’t want to believe that we’d bought the jewellery for her, clinging to the notion that Jack really did like her in order to preserve some self-esteem, and it took seeing the receipt and jeweller’s valuation for insurance purposes to convince her that Jack had indeed stolen our gift to her from Hannah’s bag. I doubt she’ll wear it for a good while yet, and it’s back inside the safe for now until she’s ready.
‘I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to our break in October,’ Hannah says as she peels a prawn. ‘And I can’t believe that I’m turning…that I’ll be forty.’ She looks away when she speaks, as though she’s unsure if she will indeed be that age, that she almost has to convince herself it’s even possible.
‘Well, if it’s any consolation, you certainly don’t look it.’ I touch her hand and she doesn’t know how much I mean that. How much Iknowthat. Hannah – or should I sayMolly– is, in fact, four years younger and won’t be forty for a while yet. And that Molly’s birthdate, backwards, was the new code for the safe – an easy guess, courtesy of Darren. It always amazes me how people are creatures of habit, of familiar patterns, how deviation from the norm takes so much effort that it’s easier to stick with what you know, what works.
‘Are you sure we’ll be able to afford it? I don’t mind postponing it until next year. Hotels in Barcelona can be pricey.’
‘Enough of all the affording it or not. Trust me, OK? Things are looking up financially.’
All it will take is for me to feed the wodges of money Darren delivered on the weekend I was supposedly golfing with colleagues – currently stored in a secure lock-up unit that I rented on the edge of town – into various investments over time and pay for as much stuff as I can in cash. And there are other options open for washing the money, of course. I know the drill. I’m something of an expert at how it works, although I’m a different man now.
But back then, in London, Darren and Vaughn’s ears had pricked up when I’d told them that I worked in a bank, albeit in a very junior role. What they were proposing was a way out, if you like, of the trouble that I was in. The trouble I’dcausedfor them. A repayment plan of sorts. Because Darren and Vaughn reckoned I owed them big time after what had happened. And I was desperate.
But as I said, I’m a different person now. A man, not a boy, which was all I was at the time, even though I was in my early twenties. I don’t know why I’d never had a girlfriend. Maybe it’s because I was more interested in numbers, gaming, programming and reading anime books. While all the other lads at school and university had girlfriends coming and going in their lives, were dating, gaining experience, I had no one. It was as if I was invisible. I hadn’t considered myself bad-looking until then – in fact, I’d never thought anything about how I presented. I was just me – a slightly lanky lad with a decent sense of humour, a work ethic and a desire to be liked. It wasn’t enough, it seemed.
After a while, being ignored or laughed at when I asked a girl out took its toll. As I hit my twenties, I believed I’d never meet anyone, that a life alone and celibate was all I was destined for. But I didn’t want that. I wanted a family. A wife and children.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Hannah asks, popping a prawn in her mouth. ‘You look miles away.’
‘Nothing much,’ I say with a sigh. ‘Just how time passes, how we all change. You know, when I wasn’t much older than Belle, I never for one moment believed I’d have my own beautiful family, a home, a career.’
My mouth is suddenly dry as I remember the ring in my pocket. I can’t do this. What if she…what if she says no? I shudder, refusing even to contemplate the idea. Besides, I’d deal with rejection differently now, like a man. Not a boy. Nothing would change between us. There would be no anger like there was the last time, no disbelief, no thoughts of revenge or vowing that if I couldn’t have her, then no one else could. Especially as she was carrying my baby. She’d told me as much.
‘But I love you, Hannah,’ I’d told her back then, clasping her hands as she’d sat on the edge of the bed in that grotty room. She’d looked at me with disgust, her long hair falling around her face, her hands on her swollen belly. Her expression told me she thought I was nothing but scum, that she had only pity for me. Just like the rest of them.
‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’ the waiter asks now that we’ve finished our main courses.
Hannah puts a hand on her stomach and looks at me, indicating she’s too full for anything else. I can’t help noticing the irony. I’d put my hand on Hannah’s stomach back then, too, to feel our baby growing inside her. She’d told me it was mine, no doubt. That Darren and Vaughn would kill her for getting pregnant by a punter. That’s all I was to her – some random loner wanting to lose his virginity.
‘I’m stuffed,’ Hannah says. ‘But a coffee would be lovely.’
‘Me too,’ I say, looking up at the waiter. That’s his cue. Once we’re on to coffees, then he’ll signal to the pianist to play our favourite song – the one I listened to over and over and over after that terrible night, sobbing and feeling more alone than I’d ever been. And now it has becomeourromantic anthem.
‘Thanks,’ Hannah says when two coffees are brought to our table. ‘Rob, this has been the most perfect evening. Thank you.’ She reaches out and takes my hand in hers, giving it a squeeze just as the pianist strikes up his tune.
‘You’re very welcome,’ I say, meaning it. My right hand reaches down into my pocket, feeling the softness of the velvet box. I’m sweating and a nauseous feeling washes through me.
Just do it, I tell myself.Ask her…
‘Oh my God, he’s playing our song, Rob.’ Hannah beams at the pianist as he plays ‘Candle In The Wind’. ‘Come on, let’s dance,’ she says, standing and pulling me up. She leads me over to the small dance floor beside the piano, where all eyes are on us. I wrap my arms loosely around her waist and she drapes hers over my shoulders, linking her fingers at my neck. We move slowly as one, feeling the music as it floats around us. Hannah presses her face to my neck as we sway together.
I close my eyes. I’m back there at the Cloisters. That final night when I insisted on seeing Hannah, when I told her I was taking her away from all this, that I loved her, that I wanted her, that I’d make it my life’s mission to look after her and our baby.
But the baby was already on the way. And, as she was pushing it out in that room – the room where she’d been conceived – as my beautiful Belle slipped into the world, Hannah screamed at me to go away, that she was no good, that she hated me, she didn’t want to be with me, that I was better off without her. All my anger and rage and self-loathing came together that night – a culmination of everything that had gone before. Final proof that I was worthless.
And so I left. I left Hannah writhing in agony, bleeding copiously and far more than was normal, I now know – though I didn’t realise the severity of what was happening to her at the time. Instead, I’d made the situation all aboutme, feeling rejected and hopeless; believing it served her right if she had a bit of pain. It was only a few days later, when true remorse set in, that I went back to the Cloisters to see her. I was going to make it up to her, tell her that I’d support her no matter what. Then Darren broke the news that Hannah had died, that it was all my fault, that I should have called for help. That I’d killed one of Vaughn’s girls. And they were right. For my own selfish reasons, I allowed an innocent girl to die.
