For Your Own Protection(9)
‘Hilary.’
Alex’s father Stephen bore a remarkable likeness to Alex, and Rachel found it difficult to see him and not think of how Alex would have looked in thirty years’ time. Stephen smiled at Rachel, then whispered something in Hilary’s ear. Mouthing a last ‘take care’, Hilary drifted away towards the kitchen.
Alone again in the crowd, Rachel felt a desperate need for Alex. She looked around from her secluded corner by the bookshelf, feeling more vulnerable than ever: all of these strangers, eating, talking, even laughing. Suddenly it felt as though everyone was watching and talking about her. The cumulative volume of the room had increased to the point where it had begun to hurt her ears. The middle-aged man standing by the door, the old woman sitting in the comfy chair, the young boy kneeling on the carpet, they were all scrutinising her, burning holes through her with their eyes. She had to get out.
She left without goodbyes, quietly retrieving her coat from the pile in the back bedroom. She caught a bus back home, choosing to sit next to a teenage girl wearing headphones and reading a book. She wouldn’t have to make polite conversation with her.
As the bus edged through the city centre traffic, Rachel decided: she had to find Michael Thornbury and discover what had kept him from the funeral of his good friend.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Matt stood staring at Catherine as she hurried away. She had made it clear that she didn’t want to talk. But still the words of the guy in the toilets nagged at him. He’d call Catherine later and hopefully get some answers.
If only he could have another chance to question the man himself.
On a whim, he made his way back to the pub. Maybe the man was a regular, and if that was the case, the staff might know something about him. Or at the very least, they might suggest the best time to catch him there.
‘Hi,’ Matt said to the barman, who was busy wiping down the surface of the bar with a damp cloth. ‘There was a guy in here a few minutes ago. Sitting over there,’ he said, pointing over to where the guy had been. ‘Balding, mid-fifties, I think. Do you know who he is?’
The barman continued cleaning. ‘Why are you asking?’
Thinking on his feet, Matt pulled a ten-pound note from his wallet. ‘I think he dropped this in the gents.’
The barman seemed unconvinced, and maybe a little amused.
Matt felt himself flush. ‘He was in there before me, and I found it on the floor after he left. I stuffed it in my pocket, meant to ask him about it, but I had other things on my mind and forgot.’
The man shrugged. ‘Give it to charity.’
‘So you know who he is?’
‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Eddie’s a regular, unfortunately.’
‘Unfortunately?’
‘He brings in the cash, drinks this place dry, but I don’t like to see it.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘My dad was an alcoholic. Used to practically live in boozers. And when he wasn’t there, he was at home, slapping us around or shouting the house down. Eddie brings back too many unhappy memories. When I see him leave, pissed again, I wonder what he’s going home to, and who’s there to pick up the pieces. And I know the irony, me working in a pub, but hey, a job’s a job, right? I’ve got a wife and young child.’
‘So he comes in here often?’
‘Most days, for most of the day.’
‘You don’t have any contact details, do you? A telephone number? Address?’
He laughed. ‘I’m a barman, not his social worker.’
‘But if I come back here another day, I’m likely to see him?’
‘Definitely. And if you don’t see him, then ring around the morgues. The way he knocks them back, I don’t think he’s got long left.’
Matt had just exited the pub when Sean Carey called.
‘Matt, how’s things?’ He sounded bright, as usual. Definitely a glass-half-full type of guy. Sean was not only Beth’s older brother, and godfather to Charlie, he was also a senior colleague at UGT and had been incredibly supportive of Matt since his arrival at the firm as a new graduate. Sean was a bright star in the company, having recently been promoted.
‘Things are a bit weird,’ Matt replied, stepping aside to allow a group of Japanese tourists past as they meandered along the pavement, cameras focused in all directions.
‘Oh?’
‘I’ve just had a very unusual experience with Catherine.’
‘Really? You lucky sod.’
‘Not like that.’
‘Pity.’
‘We’ve broken up. I think.’
‘You think?’
‘Well, it all went a bit strange. It’s probably easier to explain in person.’
‘That’s why I was calling. Fancy meeting up this afternoon?’
‘Yeah, okay. Where?’
‘The King of the City, at three?’
‘The King of the City?’ The pub was just opposite the UGT offices, and a favourite haunt of many of his colleagues at the bank. ‘Tell me you’re not working on a Saturday?’
‘Just need to pop into the office to pick something up.’
Matt shook his head. Sean could be described as a workaholic, but despite putting in a huge number of hours a week, he somehow managed to maintain a life outside the office. He was up at five to go to the gym, partied more than anyone Matt knew, enjoyed a weekly gamble at Samson’s, one of London’s premier casinos, and left some time for travel to far-flung places at least once a year. The sheer volume of life Sean packed in sometimes left Matt feeling inadequate. But he comforted himself with the knowledge that Sean didn’t have family responsibilities – he was a confirmed bachelor – so that explained at least part of it.