Authors: Kate Rhodes
Crossbones Yard (26 page)
I was unconscious when the police battered down the door. When I came round I was lying on a stretcher, being carried down through Alvarez’s house. It still looked immaculate, like a set of illustrations for
Ideal Home
. I caught a glimpse of the sofa in the living room and remembered the way he had looked at me when he took off his wedding ring. For a second my vision blurred. It was impossible to work out what was true and what was imaginary. But by the time we got outside Lola was beside me, looking indisputably real. When they put us in the ambulance she lay on her front, tears dripping from her eyes, as though someone had forgotten to turn off a tap. A paramedic was working on her back, swabbing away dirt and blood, surveying the damage. Three ragged crosses had been carved into her skin, at the base of her spine. I reached out and gripped her hand.
Ideal Home
. I caught a glimpse of the sofa in the living room and remembered the way he had looked at me when he took off his wedding ring. For a second my vision blurred. It was impossible to work out what was true and what was imaginary. But by the time we got outside Lola was beside me, looking indisputably real. When they put us in the ambulance she lay on her front, tears dripping from her eyes, as though someone had forgotten to turn off a tap. A paramedic was working on her back, swabbing away dirt and blood, surveying the damage. Three ragged crosses had been carved into her skin, at the base of her spine. I reached out and gripped her hand.
For some reason when we got to Guy’s, I refused to be carried.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I snapped at the man bending over me. ‘Keep your fucking hands off me.’
‘It’s okay, love. You’re safe now.’ His face grew small then expanded again, like I was observing him through a broken telescope.
I don’t remember much of what happened next, but I must have been taken for an X-ray, and someone sewed ten neat stitches at the base of my skull. The blood was washed from
my matted hair. A neurologist I vaguely recognised shone a torch into my eyes and talked about concussion. He handled my head so gently when he examined me that I could have wept. After that my body shut down for a while. People kept on arriving and leaving, but I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open. Hari stole into my room to deposit a box of chocolates on my bedside table. He left me with one of his radiant smiles then tiptoed away again. Someone else must have visited too, because a vase of tiger lilies materialised on the windowsill.
my matted hair. A neurologist I vaguely recognised shone a torch into my eyes and talked about concussion. He handled my head so gently when he examined me that I could have wept. After that my body shut down for a while. People kept on arriving and leaving, but I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open. Hari stole into my room to deposit a box of chocolates on my bedside table. He left me with one of his radiant smiles then tiptoed away again. Someone else must have visited too, because a vase of tiger lilies materialised on the windowsill.
Burns appeared just as I was waking up. His moon-like face hovered over me, the mattress tipping dangerously when he sat down. His skin was even greyer than normal, and I wanted to tell him to go home, take a beta blocker, wait for his blood pressure to come down, but he wouldn’t meet my eye.
‘I don’t know what to say, Alice,’ he stuttered. ‘How can I apologise?’ His small eyes were bright pink, still glossy with amazement. Maybe he’d spent the morning weeping in his office, behind a locked door. ‘He never missed a day’s work. Only Angie sussed it. She reckoned Ben was behaving strangely, and he was the one person you were in contact with the whole time.’
At least Angie would get the promotion she deserved. ‘How did she know?’
‘She saw you give him a letter at the hotel, but he never logged it as evidence. He must have binned it. And she clocked that your brother panicked every time Ben came into the room. It was the trips to Rampton that got her really worried.’
‘What do you mean?’ My voice sounded groggy and unfamiliar.
Burns took off his glasses and polished them against his shirt. ‘When Angie phoned to book your visit with Marie, they asked if Ben would be dropping in again. Turns out he
saw her at least once a month over the past year. Police business, he said.’
saw her at least once a month over the past year. Police business, he said.’
I closed my eyes. That explained Marie Benson’s certainty that she would see Alvarez again, like a moth to a flame. I had watched her primping her hair, blindly flirting with him. A wave of nausea welled up in my throat. Hard to tell if it was the result of concussion or an overload of unwelcome thoughts.
‘So it was him who sent the notes?’ I asked.
Burns gave a miserable nod. ‘We found scraps of paper at his house, little reminders, planning it all out. He knew Will was your brother from the start. He’d been keeping tabs on people who went through the hostel.’ He kept his eyes fixed on the floor. ‘For what it’s worth, Alice, you were the only one he cared about. He could have taken you any time if he’d wanted to. Maybe he thought you could save him.’ Burns’s small mouth clamped shut, as though he’d lost faith in the power of speech.
‘Except I didn’t notice he needed saving.’
Burns studied his hands, clenched together in his lap.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘It’s my fault, Alice.’ He took a minute to collect himself. ‘He heard Ray Benson’s confession, all that evil shit, all night long. Then Luisa died. I reckon that’s when he snapped, but I didn’t spot the signs. He’d been storing it up, all that time.’
I couldn’t think of a way to comfort him so I rested my hand on his, gathering strength to ask the question that kept nagging at me.
‘Is he alive?’
‘Just.’ Burns studied the floor. ‘They couldn’t save his tongue though.’
God knows why I chose that moment to break down, after everything that had happened. Maybe it was the thought that
Alvarez had lost his baritone voice, or that I had been incredibly stupid.
Alvarez had lost his baritone voice, or that I had been incredibly stupid.
It was a surprise when Burns put his arm round me. I cried until my throat felt raw, and when he stood up to say goodbye there was a large wet patch on the lapel of his jacket. Hauling himself to a vertical position required even more of Burns’s strength than usual, and I wondered who he would find to do his legwork now.
After he left I gazed out of the window. The sky was completely blank, no sign of cloud or vapour trails. I kept thinking about Lola. She would need a skin graft, but, knowing her, she would turn the experience into a triumph. As soon as the director knew what had happened she would get her job back. The headlines would describe her as the plucky heroine who overcame an evil madman, high-kicking her way to stardom.
When I woke up, new thoughts kept arriving unannounced, so I hauled myself to the window to look for distractions. It must have been early morning. A couple of nurses were standing on the frosty grass, grabbing a sly fag before going on duty. Then I spotted Sean crossing the quadrangle with his hands in his pockets, striding briskly towards the operating theatre. Maybe it was the familiarity of his walk that made me feel so guilty, or the fact that I knew exactly how he would spend his day: mending people and stitching them together again. I pressed my hand against the window’s cold glass for a second then turned away.
The pain in my head throbbed dangerously as I put on my torn dress. I had to sit down, resting unsteadily on the edge of the bed. The objects in the room floated for a few seconds before settling back into place. When I leaned down to find my white hospital slippers the tiled floor rocked up to greet me.
A nurse appeared just as I was making my escape, her grey hair twisted into an unforgiving bun. She had a sour expression. Disapproval seemed to be the only emotion in her repertoire.
‘What on earth are you doing? That’s a serious head wound, young lady. You should be in bed.’ I didn’t bother to answer as I stumbled away, but her shrill voice pursued me along the corridor. ‘You can’t discharge yourself, you’re under observation.’
For once it was a relief to get into the lift. At least the metal doors silenced her.
The foyer was packed with people when I arrived, and for some reason I had become weightless. My limbs were light and uncontrollable, like I was wading through a swimming pool. Standing on the corner of Great Maze Pond, I realised that I didn’t have a penny to my name. My purse must be lying somewhere in Alvarez’s house. The winter air drained the last of my strength. I slumped on the kerb and let my head rest on my knees to stop myself from fainting. When I opened my eyes again a taxi had pulled up beside me. I caught a glimpse of myself in its dark windows. A street urchin in a filthy dress, my forehead a mass of raw bruises. I looked like a poster girl for domestic abuse.
‘Are you all right, love?’ the taxi driver asked.
‘No,’ I snapped. The pain at the base of my skull was sharper than ever.
The man didn’t bat an eyelid when I confessed to having no money. He lifted me into the back of his cab, because my legs had stopped working. And when we got to Providence Square he didn’t just dump me on the pavement, he put his arm round my waist and hauled me up three flights of stairs.
‘You deserve a medal,’ I told him.
‘Karma,’ he said. ‘Someone’ll do the same for me one day.’ He jogged back down the stairs, ponytail bouncing. My luck seemed to be changing. The city’s one and only Buddhist cabbie had rescued me.
It’s hard to describe how it felt to come home. I didn’t care that the place was a junkyard, or that the police had ransacked every cupboard. Plates, cups and saucers littered the kitchen table and work surfaces, as though someone had thrown a giant tea party in my absence. But I couldn’t begin the marathon task of cleaning up, because someone had turned the room into a fairground ride, the floor tipping from side to side whenever I turned my head. Messages blinked on my answer-machine, and for some reason I propped myself against the wall to listen to them. My mother’s voice was cold with rage, informing me that I had missed our fortnightly breakfast meeting, then there were three calls from a persistent double-glazing company. My finger hovered over the delete button when the next message cut in. The familiarity of the deep male voice made me catch my breath.
‘Alice, it’s Ben. Call me please, when you get this. I need to know you’re safe.’
I pressed the repeat button. There it was again, that imitation of genuine concern, like he was the only person who wanted to keep me alive. God knows why he’d called me, when he knew I was at the hotel. He must have been covering his tracks. I should have deleted it, but couldn’t bring myself to. Maybe it was because I knew he would never speak again.
A pool of winter sunlight had collected on the settee. I lay down and hugged my knees against my chest, trying not to think about Alvarez. The disbelief still hadn’t worn off. It seemed possible that he would appear at any minute, to apologise for his mistakes. But the image of his face when Lola pulled back the balaclava was inescapable. I pictured
him alone in his prison cell, unlikely ever to be released. Even with my eyes shut, tears forced themselves between my closed eyelids.
him alone in his prison cell, unlikely ever to be released. Even with my eyes shut, tears forced themselves between my closed eyelids.
It occurred to me that people sometimes die from unsupervised concussion, but at that point I couldn’t have cared less. My brother kept appearing in my mind, unable to move or make sense of all my questions. I stayed awake for as long as possible, but I was lucky. There were no dreams at all. When I woke up, the sun was in a different position. It was midday, and when I checked my phone a whole day had passed. The pain in my head pulsed as I sat up, but it was weaker than before. It no longer felt like an ice pick driving through my skull. I made myself drink a glass of orange juice then phoned for a taxi.
My mother was emerging from Will’s room when I arrived at Bermondsey Ward, but I ducked into a doorway just in time to avoid her. She looked the same as always, a paragon of maternal duty, immaculately coiffured and groomed.
Will was wide awake when I opened the door. Apart from his injuries, he looked better than he had in weeks. Someone had washed his tow-coloured hair and the hollows under his cheekbones were less pronounced. There was only a slight tremor in his arm when he stretched out his hand. I perched on the edge of the bed and held on to it without saying anything.
‘I’m sorry, Al.’ His voice was a dull croak. ‘I tried to warn you on the phone.’
‘I know you did, sweetheart.’
‘He recognised my face.’ Will’s gaze flickered towards the window. ‘I liked him at first, but he kept coming to the van almost every night, asking questions about the hostel.’
‘And he gave you the knife?’
Will nodded. ‘He borrowed my van one time, then made me go upstairs at his house. I saw the room with the boxes.’ He closed his eyes.
‘And he told you what he did?’
‘Everything.’ Will turned his face away. ‘He wanted me to help him.’
‘And that’s why you jumped?’
‘Partly. And I think he put something in my drink. I saw angels outside the window …’ His voice petered out. ‘I thought they might save me.’
I squeezed his hand. That must have been why Alvarez screwed the window shut afterwards, to avoid any further accidents. I still couldn’t work out why he’d bothered to deliver Will to a place where he would be found. He must have gone into a blind panic when his plan backfired. I studied Will’s face. Despite the pain he was in, he was calm for the first time in months. I took a deep breath and prepared my question.
‘What happened when you were at the hostel, Will?’
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. If he could have thrown back the covers and made a dash for it he would have done. ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘No?’
‘They treated me like a son at first, gave me my own room.’ His face twitched into a smile. ‘Marie said I could be part of their family. But after a few months, they wanted more. I saw things there, Al. Stuff you wouldn’t believe.’
I pressed his hand between mine, then looked him directly in the eyes. ‘Did they make you get involved?’
He shook his head vehemently. ‘I had to keep watch, that’s all. They wanted to know if anyone at the hostel started talking. Ray said he’d kill me if I ran away.’
I wanted to ask how he’d got sucked into something so evil, but the answer was obvious. It was because he was desperate
for a home, and he didn’t believe he deserved any better. His illness blurred the boundaries between nightmares and reality. My brother’s clutch on my hand loosened, but his gaze remained fixed to the window. Maybe angels were still hovering outside, white feathers fluttering against the glass.
for a home, and he didn’t believe he deserved any better. His illness blurred the boundaries between nightmares and reality. My brother’s clutch on my hand loosened, but his gaze remained fixed to the window. Maybe angels were still hovering outside, white feathers fluttering against the glass.
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