In a Dark, Dark Wood(68)

I shake my head. This is sending me crazy. No one in that house invited James. No one. There’s no way the shooting would have played out that way if they had.

‘You’re wrong,’ I say into the silence. ‘You must be. He must have just decided to come. If he and Clare had argued he might have wanted to patch it up, don’t you think? He was always …’

‘A bit of an idiot?’ Matt says. He gives a shaky laugh. ‘I guess maybe you’re right. He’s not known for his forethought. I mean—’ He stops and I see his fist on his knee is clenched ‘—I mean he was.’ He stops. There is another silence, both of us thinking of the James who lives in our heads, in our thoughts. ‘I remember,’ he says at last, ‘I remember one time at uni, he climbed the college walls and put Santa hats on all the gargoyles. Idiot. He could have been killed.’

As the last word drops from his lips I see him realise what he’s said, and flinch, and before I can stop myself I put out a hand.

‘I’d better go,’ he says. ‘I’m— I hope you’re better soon.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I say. And then, forcing myself on, because I know if I don’t say it I’ll regret it, ‘Will you – can you come back?’

‘I’m going back to London in the morning,’ he says. ‘But it’d be nice to keep in touch.’

There’s a pen on the chart, and he pulls it off and scribbles his number on the only bit of writable surface around – the side of his coffee cup.

‘You were right,’ he says, as he puts the cup carefully on my bedside table. ‘Water would have been preferable. Bye, Leo.’

‘Bye.’

The door swings slowly shut behind him and through the narrow glass hatch I watch his silhouette disappearing down the corridor. And it’s strange for a person who lives alone, for someone who’s been craving solitude since I came here, but suddenly I feel very lonely … and it’s a very foreign, peculiar feeling.





25


I’M EATING SUPPER when a knock comes again. It’s not visiting hours. so I’m surprised when I look up and it’s Nina sliding round the door with a carrier bag. She puts her fingers to her lips.

‘Shh. I only got in by pulling the old “Don’t you know who I am?”’

‘Did you tell them you were Salma Hayek’s cousin again?’

‘Purlease! She’s not even Brazilian.’

‘Or a doctor.’

‘Quite. Anyway, I said I’d be quick so here you go.’ She throws down a bag on the bed. ‘I’m afraid they’re not exactly haute couture. In fact you’re lucky they’re not pastel velour. But I did the best I could.’

‘They’re great,’ I say thankfully, riffling through the anonymous grey sweats. ‘Honestly. The only thing I care about is that they’re not open at the back and logoed with “Hospital Property.” Truly, I really, really appreciate it, Nina.’

‘I even got you some shoes – only flip-flops but I know how grim the hospital showers can be, and I thought at least then if they kick you out at short notice you’ll have something to walk in. You’re a six, right?’

‘Five, actually – but don’t worry, six is brilliant. Here,’ I pull off her cardigan and hold it out, ‘take this.’

‘Nah, don’t worry. Keep it until your own stuff turns up. Do you need money?’

I shake my head, but she pulls out two tenners anyway and tosses them onto the locker.

‘Can’t hurt. At least then if you get sick of hospital food you can grab a panini. OK, I’d better go.’

But she doesn’t. She just stands there, looking down at her short, square nails. I can tell she wants to say something and – with uncharacteristic nervousness – is holding back.

‘Bye then,’ I say at last, hoping to jolt her into speaking, but she just says, ‘Bye,’ and turns for the door.

Then, with her hand on the push-panel, she stops and turns back.

‘Look, what I said, earlier – I didn’t mean—’

‘What you said?’

‘About James. About the motive. Look, I didn’t really think you’d ever … Fuck.’ She thumps her fist gently on the wall. ‘This isn’t coming out right. Look, I still think it was an accident, and that’s what I told Lamarr. I never thought this had anything to do with you. But I was just worried, OK? For you. Not about you.’

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and swing my legs out of bed. I walk uncertainly over to her and give her a hug.

‘It’s OK. I knew what you meant. I’m worried too – for all of us.’

She smooths my hair, and then I drop my arms and she looks at me. ‘They don’t think it was an accident though, do they? Why on earth not?’

‘Someone loaded that gun,’ I say. ‘That’s the bottom line.’

‘But even so – that could have been anyone. Flo’s aunt could have done it by mistake and been too scared to admit it to the police. The police keep banging on about the clay pigeon shoot – was the ammunition properly secured, could anyone have got unsupervised access to a live round. They obviously think the cartridge came from there, or that’s what they’re trying to prove. But if one of us wanted to kill James, why the f*ck would we lure him out to the back of beyond to do it?’