After You
Page 65
‘How can you possibly know that?’
‘Because you’re like him. You’re even wearing his jumper,’ I added softly.
She brought her arm slowly to her face, placing the soft wool against her cheek, thinking.
I sat back on the bench. I wondered if I had pushed it too far, talking about Will.
But then Lily took a breath and, in a quiet, uncharacteristically flat voice, she told me the truth about where she’d been. She told me about the boy, and about the man, and an image on a mobile phone that haunted her, and the days she had spent as a shadow on the city’s neon-lit streets. As she spoke she started to cry, shrinking into herself, her face crumpling like that of a five-year-old, so I moved across the seat and brought her in close to me, stroking her hair while she kept talking, her words now jumbled, too fast, too full, broken with sobs and hiccups. By the time she got to the last day, she was huddled into me, swallowed by the jumper, swallowed by her own fear and guilt and sadness.
‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You have nothing,’ I said fiercely, as I held her, ‘nothing to be sorry for.’
That evening Sam came. He was cheerful, sweet and casual in his dealings with Lily, cooked us pasta with cream, bacon and mushrooms, when she said she didn’t want to go out, and we watched a comedy film about a family who got lost in a jungle, a strange facsimile of a family ourselves. I smiled and laughed and made tea, but inside I simmered with anger I didn’t dare show.
As soon as Lily went to bed I beckoned Sam onto the fire escape. We climbed up to the roof where I could be sure I wouldn’t be heard, and as he sat down on the little wrought-iron bench I told him what she had told me in that spot, just a few hours earlier. ‘She thinks it’s going to hang over her for ever. He still has the phone, Sam.’
I wasn’t sure I had ever been so furious. All evening, as the television burbled in front of me, I had recast the last weeks in a new light: I thought about the times the boy had hung around downstairs, the way Lily had hidden her phone under the sofa cushions when she thought I might see it, the way she had sometimes flinched when a new message came through. I thought of her stuttering words – of the way she described her relief when she thought she had been rescued – and then the horror of what was to come next. I thought about the arrogance of a man who had seen a young girl in distress and viewed it as an opportunity.
Sam motioned to me to sit down, but I couldn’t keep still. I paced backwards and forwards across the roof terrace, my fists tight, my neck rigid. I wanted to throw things over the edge. I wanted to find Mr Garside. He came and stood behind me and rubbed at the knots in my shoulders. I suspected it was his way of making me stand still.
‘I actually want to kill him.’
‘It can be arranged.’
I looked round at Sam to see if he was joking, and was the tiniest bit disappointed when I saw he was.
It had grown chilly up there in the stiff night breeze and I wished I had brought up a jacket. ‘Maybe we should just go to the police. It’s blackmail, isn’t it?’
‘He’ll deny it. There are a million places he could hide a phone. And if her mother was telling the truth nobody is going to believe Lily over a so-called pillar of the community. That’s how these people get away with it.’
‘But how do we get that phone off him? She won’t be able to move forward while she knows he’s out there, while that image is still out there.’ I was shivering. Sam took his jacket off and hung it around my shoulders. It carried the residual warmth of him and I tried not to look as grateful as I felt.
‘We can’t turn up at his office or her parents will find out. We could email him? Tell him he has to send it back, or else?’
‘He’s hardly just going to cough it up. He might not even answer an email – that could be used as evidence.’
‘Oh, it’s hopeless.’ I let out a long moan. ‘Maybe she’s just going to have to learn to live with it. Maybe we can convince her that it’s as much in his interests to forget what happened as it is hers. Because it is, right? Maybe he’ll just get rid of the phone himself.’
‘You think she’ll go with that?’
‘No.’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘I can’t bear it. I can’t bear that he’ll get away with it. That creepy, nasty, manipulative, limo-driving scumbag …’ I stood up and gazed out at the city below me, feeling briefly despairing. I could see the future: Lily, defensive and wild, as she tried to escape the shadow of her past. That phone was the key to her behaviour, to her future.
Think, I told myself. Think what Will would do. He would not have let this man win. I had to strategize like he would. I watched the traffic creeping slowly past the front door of my block. I thought of Mr Garside’s big black car, cruising the streets of Soho. I thought about a man who moved silently and easily through life, confident that it would always work his way.
‘Sam?’ I said. ‘Is there a drug you could give that could stop someone’s heart?’
He let that hang in the air for a moment. ‘Please tell me you’re kidding.’
‘No. Listen. I’ve got an idea.’
She said nothing at first. ‘You’ll be safe,’ I said. ‘And this way nobody has to know a thing.’ What moved me most was that she didn’t ask me the question I had been asking myself ever since I outlined my plan to Sam. How do you know this will actually work?
‘I’ve got it all lined up, sweetheart,’ Sam said.
‘But nobody else knows –’
‘Anything. Just that he’s hassling you.’
‘Won’t you get in trouble?’
‘Don’t worry about me.’
She pulled at her sleeve, then murmured, ‘And you won’t leave me with him. At all.’
‘Not for one minute.’
She chewed her lip. Then she looked at Sam, and over at me. And something seemed to settle inside her. ‘Okay. Let’s do it.’
I bought a cheap, pay-as-you-go handset, called Lily’s stepfather’s workplace and got Mr Garside’s mobile number from his secretary by pretending we had arranged to meet for a drink. That evening as I waited for Sam to arrive, I sent a text to Garside’s number.
Mr Garside. I’m sorry about hitting you. I just freaked. I want to sort it out. L
He left it half an hour before responding, probably to make her sweat.
Why should I talk to you, Lily? You were very rude after all the help I gave you.
‘Prick,’ muttered Sam.
I know. I’m sorry. But I do need your help.
This is not a one-way street, Lily.
I know. You just gave me a shock. I needed time to think. Let’s meet up. I’ll give you what you want, but you have to give me the phone first.
I don’t think you get to dictate terms, Lily.
Sam looked at me. I looked back at him, then began to type.
Not even … if I’m a really bad girl?
A pause.
Now you’ve got my interest.
Sam and I exchanged a look. ‘I just did a little sick in my mouth,’ I said.
Tomorrow night then, I typed. I’ll send you the address when I’ve checked my friend will be out.
When we were sure he wouldn’t respond, Sam put the phone into his pocket, where Lily couldn’t see it, and held me for a long time.
‘Because you’re like him. You’re even wearing his jumper,’ I added softly.
She brought her arm slowly to her face, placing the soft wool against her cheek, thinking.
I sat back on the bench. I wondered if I had pushed it too far, talking about Will.
But then Lily took a breath and, in a quiet, uncharacteristically flat voice, she told me the truth about where she’d been. She told me about the boy, and about the man, and an image on a mobile phone that haunted her, and the days she had spent as a shadow on the city’s neon-lit streets. As she spoke she started to cry, shrinking into herself, her face crumpling like that of a five-year-old, so I moved across the seat and brought her in close to me, stroking her hair while she kept talking, her words now jumbled, too fast, too full, broken with sobs and hiccups. By the time she got to the last day, she was huddled into me, swallowed by the jumper, swallowed by her own fear and guilt and sadness.
‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You have nothing,’ I said fiercely, as I held her, ‘nothing to be sorry for.’
That evening Sam came. He was cheerful, sweet and casual in his dealings with Lily, cooked us pasta with cream, bacon and mushrooms, when she said she didn’t want to go out, and we watched a comedy film about a family who got lost in a jungle, a strange facsimile of a family ourselves. I smiled and laughed and made tea, but inside I simmered with anger I didn’t dare show.
As soon as Lily went to bed I beckoned Sam onto the fire escape. We climbed up to the roof where I could be sure I wouldn’t be heard, and as he sat down on the little wrought-iron bench I told him what she had told me in that spot, just a few hours earlier. ‘She thinks it’s going to hang over her for ever. He still has the phone, Sam.’
I wasn’t sure I had ever been so furious. All evening, as the television burbled in front of me, I had recast the last weeks in a new light: I thought about the times the boy had hung around downstairs, the way Lily had hidden her phone under the sofa cushions when she thought I might see it, the way she had sometimes flinched when a new message came through. I thought of her stuttering words – of the way she described her relief when she thought she had been rescued – and then the horror of what was to come next. I thought about the arrogance of a man who had seen a young girl in distress and viewed it as an opportunity.
Sam motioned to me to sit down, but I couldn’t keep still. I paced backwards and forwards across the roof terrace, my fists tight, my neck rigid. I wanted to throw things over the edge. I wanted to find Mr Garside. He came and stood behind me and rubbed at the knots in my shoulders. I suspected it was his way of making me stand still.
‘I actually want to kill him.’
‘It can be arranged.’
I looked round at Sam to see if he was joking, and was the tiniest bit disappointed when I saw he was.
It had grown chilly up there in the stiff night breeze and I wished I had brought up a jacket. ‘Maybe we should just go to the police. It’s blackmail, isn’t it?’
‘He’ll deny it. There are a million places he could hide a phone. And if her mother was telling the truth nobody is going to believe Lily over a so-called pillar of the community. That’s how these people get away with it.’
‘But how do we get that phone off him? She won’t be able to move forward while she knows he’s out there, while that image is still out there.’ I was shivering. Sam took his jacket off and hung it around my shoulders. It carried the residual warmth of him and I tried not to look as grateful as I felt.
‘We can’t turn up at his office or her parents will find out. We could email him? Tell him he has to send it back, or else?’
‘He’s hardly just going to cough it up. He might not even answer an email – that could be used as evidence.’
‘Oh, it’s hopeless.’ I let out a long moan. ‘Maybe she’s just going to have to learn to live with it. Maybe we can convince her that it’s as much in his interests to forget what happened as it is hers. Because it is, right? Maybe he’ll just get rid of the phone himself.’
‘You think she’ll go with that?’
‘No.’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘I can’t bear it. I can’t bear that he’ll get away with it. That creepy, nasty, manipulative, limo-driving scumbag …’ I stood up and gazed out at the city below me, feeling briefly despairing. I could see the future: Lily, defensive and wild, as she tried to escape the shadow of her past. That phone was the key to her behaviour, to her future.
Think, I told myself. Think what Will would do. He would not have let this man win. I had to strategize like he would. I watched the traffic creeping slowly past the front door of my block. I thought of Mr Garside’s big black car, cruising the streets of Soho. I thought about a man who moved silently and easily through life, confident that it would always work his way.
‘Sam?’ I said. ‘Is there a drug you could give that could stop someone’s heart?’
He let that hang in the air for a moment. ‘Please tell me you’re kidding.’
‘No. Listen. I’ve got an idea.’
She said nothing at first. ‘You’ll be safe,’ I said. ‘And this way nobody has to know a thing.’ What moved me most was that she didn’t ask me the question I had been asking myself ever since I outlined my plan to Sam. How do you know this will actually work?
‘I’ve got it all lined up, sweetheart,’ Sam said.
‘But nobody else knows –’
‘Anything. Just that he’s hassling you.’
‘Won’t you get in trouble?’
‘Don’t worry about me.’
She pulled at her sleeve, then murmured, ‘And you won’t leave me with him. At all.’
‘Not for one minute.’
She chewed her lip. Then she looked at Sam, and over at me. And something seemed to settle inside her. ‘Okay. Let’s do it.’
I bought a cheap, pay-as-you-go handset, called Lily’s stepfather’s workplace and got Mr Garside’s mobile number from his secretary by pretending we had arranged to meet for a drink. That evening as I waited for Sam to arrive, I sent a text to Garside’s number.
Mr Garside. I’m sorry about hitting you. I just freaked. I want to sort it out. L
He left it half an hour before responding, probably to make her sweat.
Why should I talk to you, Lily? You were very rude after all the help I gave you.
‘Prick,’ muttered Sam.
I know. I’m sorry. But I do need your help.
This is not a one-way street, Lily.
I know. You just gave me a shock. I needed time to think. Let’s meet up. I’ll give you what you want, but you have to give me the phone first.
I don’t think you get to dictate terms, Lily.
Sam looked at me. I looked back at him, then began to type.
Not even … if I’m a really bad girl?
A pause.
Now you’ve got my interest.
Sam and I exchanged a look. ‘I just did a little sick in my mouth,’ I said.
Tomorrow night then, I typed. I’ll send you the address when I’ve checked my friend will be out.
When we were sure he wouldn’t respond, Sam put the phone into his pocket, where Lily couldn’t see it, and held me for a long time.
