The Lie(25)

“I’m glad you’re in town,” I tell him, patting the table. “Want another pint?”

He nods, and I quickly head to the bar to get us both one. I sit down at the table and raise my glass. “Cheers.”

I nearly down my beer in one go.

Keir raises a brow. “Been needing that one, have you?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well, I’ve been having a pretty shit time myself if it makes you feel better,” he says, running his hand over his mouth and jaw.

“It doesn’t,” I tell him. I don’t want to pry or intrude on his business, so I don’t add anything else. Keir used to be pretty talkative and forthcoming before he joined the army, though that was a long time ago. I don’t expect him to say anything now.

He finishes off what was left of his other beer, and I’m about to ask him about how the army is when he says, “I left the army.”

I frown, mid-sip. “You mean you’re off-duty.”

He shakes his head. “No. I left. No one knows.” His eyes flit to mine, and now I can see how tired they are. Weary and war-torn, they’ve obviously seen a lot. “You’re the first person I’ve told. I…I just needed to get it out, you know? Tell someone. It isn’t easy living a lie.”

Don’t I f*cking know it.

“Your parents?” I ask. “Maisie or Mal don’t know either?”

He laughs sourly. “I don’t even know where Maisie is, to be honest. Mal seems to disappear off the earth from time to time. Every time he meets a new woman in a new country, anyway. And this isn’t the sort of thing you’d write in an email.” He gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry to burden you with this, Brigs. I know we’ve lost touch.”

“It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.” I pause. “What happened? Why did you leave?”

“Because of what happened to my best friend,” he says carefully. He swallows. “You know the shooting last month?”

I slowly nod, afraid of where this could be going. Last month we had a terrorist shooting in downtown London, right in the middle of Oxford Circus. Two people died and a few more were badly injured. It made major headlines for a few days and later disappeared—probably because the terrorist wasn’t part of an organization. He was Lewis Smith, a Caucasian and a member of the British Army. He’d recently been dishonorably discharged and went mad, gunning people down on the street. The police shot and killed him when he wouldn’t surrender.

“Well,” he says, suddenly looking a lot older than a man in his late thirties. His face seems to grow pale before my eyes. “That was my best friend. Lewis Smith.”

Bloody hell.

He exhales loudly. “The worst part is, I knew how unwell he was. I saw him disintegrate. Some of the stuff we saw out there in the villages…I don’t even know how I dealt with it, and Lewis took it hard. But you can’t talk about that stuff. We’re taught to keep it inside. I should have said something. I should have spoken up. I tried, you know, I did, but…I could have done more.”

Well, his week is certainly putting my week to shame.

“I don’t know what to say other than you can’t blame yourself,” I tell him gently.

He raises his brows, his forehead wrinkling. “Oh yeah? And how often do you take your own advice?”

I give him a wry look. “Never.”

“Look, I know I haven’t seen you much since the funeral,” he says. “I heard through my mum that you’re teaching now at King’s College. I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re pulling through. I don’t know how you managed to put one foot in front of the other. I know I couldn’t if I were in your shoes. I’m barely dealing with this. Wondering if the guilt, this weight, is ever going to go away.”

I’m starting to see why Keir had contacted and confided in me. I might be the only person who knows what it is to be shackled to all the things you should have done. But he doesn’t know the whole truth. And even though he opened up to me, I can’t bring up Natasha. Not with him or Lachlan or my parents. The moment I tell them is the moment I’m tarnished in their lives forever. I guess I still have some pride left, as foolish as it is.

“I think we can get over the guilt, even if we can’t get over the loss,” I tell him, my eyes roaming to the window, absently watching the rush of people, suited businessmen heading to the pubs for a pint after work, tourists making their way to the Palace. “Unfortunately, I think it starts and ends with us.”

He sighs. “You’re probably right. Even so…the reason I’m here is because I’m going to stop by the hospital. One of the victims that Lewis shot was in intensive care there. I’m not sure if she still is or not, but…I need to know if she’s all right. I don’t even know her, but…I need to do this. I feel I owe her something, I just don’t know what.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known that Lewis would do this,” I tell him, but Keir’s eyes seem to darken, caught in a bad, bad place.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment then excuses himself to get us another round of beers.

“So, what’s weighing you down?” he asks me when he comes back, obviously wanting a subject change.