Blood Sisters(28)

SEE YOU SOON.

Who is behind all this?

As I arrive, jazz music fills the air. Arty-looking types in pastel-coloured pashminas weave in and out. There are tulip-yellow tablecloths. Instantly I know I like this place, although I now regret choosing the black trousers and roll-neck top I’d worn during my last class at Archville.

I recognize some of the tutors by sight at the big noisy table and walk over.

‘Alison!’ calls out someone, waving his hand.

I stop dead. It’s Lead Man. Sitting next to the only empty space.

He looks different. More relaxed than his college persona. His clothes are what my mother would call ‘smart casual’: crisp pink and white shirt with dark navy jeans. He jumps up and for a minute I think he’s going to kiss me on both cheeks. But instead, he pulls out the chair for me. I can tell that this is the sort of man who would leap out of the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you.

‘They weren’t sure if you were coming.’

Now I’m closer, I realize that the ‘relaxed’ veneer is a front. In fact, his fingers are actually shaking as much as mine as he rearranges, unnecessarily, the cutlery on the table.

I feel a sudden need to make it all right.

‘You look different without your pinny,’ I say.

I speak just as the waiter comes up to take our order. His expression is priceless. Lead Man and I look at each other. For a split-second, there is silence. Then we both start to laugh at the same time until tears are running down our faces.

And after that, it’s all right.

My laughter is a release. I’m laughing like there’s no tomorrow. Not because of the pinny image, but because I’m no longer in that place. I’m not sure why Lead Man is laughing so much. The apron joke isn’t that funny. Maybe it’s relief too. It’s rather reassuring that he’s not as confident as I’d assumed from the flash car and the big job.

‘Hi, Alison,’ waves my horsey-faced student from the other end of the table. ‘Love the stars!’

What?

Lead Man reaches across and plucks something from my hair. It’s a sparkly red sticky shape. ‘It must have been caught in my jumper,’ I bluster, embarrassed by his unexpectedly intimate gesture.

‘You’ve been teaching at a school?’ asks Lead Man, smiling.

‘I’ve been in prison, actually.’

The man opposite – whom I don’t know – glances across at me nervously. Lead Man seems unsettled too.

‘You mean …’

He stops.

‘Not in prison as in having done something wrong,’ I say hastily. ‘I’m an artist in residence at a prison.’ I raise my voice slightly so no one else gets the wrong idea.

‘What kind of prison?’ Lead Man’s eyes are sparkling with interest. The only person who knows is my mother, and she’s horrified. It’s not as though I have friends any more (my own choice), so I can’t gauge what their reactions would be. ‘Actually, it’s a prison for men.’

His eyebrows rise.

‘An open one,’ I add.

‘Can you tell us more?’ Curiosity is oozing out of him.

I look down. There is a gold star on my trousers too.

‘Some of the men have short sentences left because they’re at the end of their time,’ I say slowly.

‘So what kind of things have they done?’

Lead Man suddenly looks serious. I’m also aware that the man opposite has gone silent as though he’s waiting for my answer too.

Murder. Rape. Grievous bodily harm.

I could say all of these. But I don’t want to. If I do, I might find myself telling this nice man everything. The stabbing, the child killer, the strange messages I am so desperately trying to forget.

‘Lots of different things,’ I say airily.

‘Is it part of an education programme?’ he asks.

‘Yes and no. It’s partly to increase their confidence.’

There’s a harrumph from the man opposite.

‘Because,’ I continue more loudly, ‘it’s been shown that it can reduce the risk of reoffending. I know. It sounds a bit airy-fairy, doesn’t it? I thought the same when I was told this at my interview. But, in fact, it seems to work.’

I don’t allow myself to think of half-blind Barry and those poor children. I think instead of Stefan who has potential and whose portrait I’m going to enter for a national competition.

‘Is it dangerous?’

A pair of scissors dances in the air before me. And that glassy stare. The blood. I can almost hear the screams.

‘It could be if you’re not careful,’ I say slowly.

Lead Man’s eyes hold me steadily. ‘I think you’re very brave,’ he says. To my surprise, he places a hand on mine. Just for a second. His skin scorches me. I want to move but I can’t. Then he takes his away.

I’m so embarrassed that I knock over my glass of elderflower and it spills all over him. How awful! He has to go to the Gents to dry off his jeans. ‘No problem,’ he says kindly afterwards, our eyes locking again.

Mercifully, at that point our meals arrive. ‘Wine?’ he offers, lifting a bottle.

‘I don’t drink, I’m afraid.’

‘I’m not a great drinker myself. I prefer to be in control.’