Ghosts in the Morning (22 page)

I stared at Graham and felt my teeth grinding. I
winced briefly, my teeth were getting sensitive, perhaps I had ground down too much of the
enamel.
I saw that t
he nature programme had
now
finished and an advert was on, some Hollywood actress pouting and sighing, trying to entice viewers to buy a certain type of perfume. Graham stretched out an arm and pushed a button on the remote control. The screen flashed and then an announcer’s voice.
‘And now, if you’re already thinking of New Year’s Resolutions, then this is the place to be
. Put the remote co
ntrol down and your trainers on
as we
get ready to
join
fitness expert
Chantal Whaley in “Fighting the Flab”’.

‘Whaley? Hardly the best name for a fitness expert,’ I mused.

Graham ignored me. ‘Perfect, she might be able to give me some tips.
It’s a
bout time I got a bit fitter
.
’

I stifled a laugh. ‘Fitter? Don’t you need to be fit first to be able to get fitt
er
?’ I mumbled to myself.

‘What’s that?’ Graham snapped.

I shook my head. ‘Nothing.’

Graham frowned at me and turned back to the TV. A big-breasted, slim-waisted woman in fluorescent lycra was bouncing eagerly up and down on the spot like a hyperactive puppy. She didn’t stop jumping as she talked to the camera.
‘Hi, I’m
Chantal Whaley and o
ver the next few weeks, I am going to give you all the information you need to banish that unwanted flab
. F
orever!’
She
spoke in one
of those mid-Atlantic type accents that sounded
pretentious,
false.
Obviously she was a
Brit pretending to be an American as
she believed it made her sound
more cool.

‘Yes,’ Graham said. ‘
Yes, t
hat
will
be my New Year’s resolution. I
need to
start doing a regular schedule, I don’t know, maybe I’ll go lunchtimes or something.’

‘I thought you were going lunchtimes, already,’ I said, slyly.

Graham reddened. He guessed what I was insinuating
. And now he had proved that my supposition was right
.
He
hadn’t been going to
the gym at lunchtimes, no, he
had been
with th
at
tart
, Nikki
. ‘Well,er,’
he stuttered. ‘Yes, but, er, not regularly enough. Anyway,
you
should really think about getting to the gym, you’ve turned into a right fat cow.’
The words were spat from his mouth, struck me like spears.
I could see from his face that he had shocked himself, he hadn’t meant to speak so harsh, but the damage was done.

‘Sod you, Graham, you can’t just say things like that, I am a real person you know,
I’m
not
just
some...some  thing
that
you can just abuse, I
do
have feelings,
you fucker.
I have self-esteem,
okay so
I’m not perfect like that tart Nikki,
am I, no,
I suppose
Nikki’s
body is all tight and firm and pert isn’t it
? B
ut it won’t last you know, it won’t last, just wait until she’s a bit older, you’ll see, wait until she’s had a few kids, yeah, then we really will see, it’ll happen to her too, you bastard.’

I stood there, quivering with rage, and I could feel the blood rushing, quickening again.

Chapter 14

Boxing Day.
It was quiet in the house
.
Graham had gone out to the cemetery to visit his Mum’s grave. He did it every year
on this day
,
and
always on his own. I had asked once, years ago, if he wanted me to come with him, but he had shaken his head with an adamant ‘
no
’. I didn’t care, I never really knew her that well.
When she was alive,
Graham
had not visited her much, they hadn’t been that close -
later he told me he regretted not seeing more of her, said he wished he hadn’t taken her for granted.
‘
I should have made more of an effort, she was my mother
,
and she had a good heart deep down
’ he said.
I thought she was a bit of an old cow. She was
far from being a stereotypical
grandm
other
, she saw little of the kids when they were young, and
she
usually forgot their birthdays unless Graham gave her a reminder. He used to do that
, I’d hear it on the phone a few days before the birthday, but he would
pretend he hadn’t.

Anita had phoned to wish me a belated happy Christmas. She had asked me if I had any plans for New Year’s Eve, asked if I fancied
going out for a meal and a boogie. ‘
Come on, Andy, it’ll be fun, we should go out, we don’t want to stay in like old fogeys before our time, what do you say?
I had said that I couldn’t, I lied and said that Graham had invited some friends round, we were having a dinner party. ‘
Is there room for one more
at that party
?
’ Anita had said, teasingly, enjoying making me squirm before admitting she was only winding me up, she didn’t want to spend her New Year’s Eve at some ‘
crusty couply dinner party.’

I spun the
bath
taps, it would be nice to have a relaxing bath while the house was peaceful. The boys had gone out too
, all of them. They had a
Boxing Day lunch with some mutual friends. They wouldn’t be back until later in the evening, drunk and boisterous no doubt.

I sank deep into the foamy water and forced my shoulders to relax. I closed my eyes and tried to still my mind, tried to ignore the thoughts that were crowding in. The heat suffused my pores, and I sighed and reached a soapy hand out for the chilled glass of wine perched on the edge of the bath. Just then a harsh trilling sounded, and the glass tumbled from my grip. It missed the corner of the bath mat, and landed on the bathroom tiles with a smash. I cursed, as the trilling continued. I shook my head and sank back into the bath. It was no good, the moment was gone. I swore again and reached for my towel.

A sharp pain and I looked down. A large chunk of crystal glass had scored the side of my palm. I gritted my teeth. There was a lot of blood, but
thankfully
it was
only on
the fleshy part of my hand, I doubted it was anything serious. I stepped carefully from the bath, and gingerly picked
up the pieces of the wine glass, and threw them into the corner bin.
The bath mat had pools of red, like spilt wine.
I cursed, as I realised that t
he trilling had stopped.
Then I heard the telltale beep of a message.
I wrapped my towel around m
y body
and stepped into the bedroom.

Graham’s mobile phone was on top of
the chest of drawers. It was blinking, signalling
the receipt of the
text
message. I picked it up and typed in Graham’s birthday, backwards.
So, n
ot a text
. Instead it was
a voice message. My hand was stinging and I pressed it into my body. I pressed the key to ring the voicemail.

‘
Graham. It’s Ollie.
Listen, I think the police may be on their way to you soon. One of my, um, contacts, shall we say, from the Lodge, gave me a heads up. It seems they think they’ve found some sort of con
nection between that hit and run accident
and that football player who was killed. It was in the paper-
Tolley his name was-
the football player that is, not the hit and run guy -
anyway, it seems the plods have made some extremely tenuous link, just because Tolley knew someone who knows your secretary, Nikki.
Christ, you and I both know that
Jersey’s so bloody small, everyone knows someone who knows someone else,
but
the
se
silly buggers have obviously put two and two together to make five.
To be honest, I think the plods are under pressure to
deliver a quick result, I understand the press are all over them,
Tolley being some
aspiring young football player
or some shit like that
, so they’re just jumping on anything. Look, they’ll probably just ask you to go down to the station, ask you a few questions. So, ring me as soon as that happens, and don’t say anything. Just in case.’

I felt myself shaking, I saw blood soaking my towel, but the throbbing in my hand had disappeared, endorphins and adrenaline numbing the pain. My mind raced and blood rushed in my ears, like a brutal, incoming tide. A clock began to tick in my head.

‘Please press one to replay this message, two to save this message, three to delete this message...’

I pressed three, my fingers growing steadier, as my brain tugged and pulled at strands, trying to make sense of them, to bring order...
shit,
there wasn’t much time.

The door slammed.
That bloody door
would never be fixed now, I knew that. I put Graham’s mobile phone down and grabbed some toilet paper from the bathroom. I wound it tightly around my hand to stem the bleeding. I put my dressing gown on and scooped up the bath towel with its coppery-red stains and thrust it quickly into the washing basket.

Graham appeared at the doorway. His face was red. ‘Alright,’ he grunted.

My mind kept churning, knitting fronds.
Tick tock tick tock
.

‘Alright,’ I replied. I nodded towards his wind-burned cheeks and the unkempt wisps of his hair. ‘It must have been very blustery and cold up at the cemetery. You look like you’re freezing.’

The clock was inexorably ticking, it was screaming in my head.
Tick tock
went the second hand, but it was getting faster.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock
.

‘Yes, I am a bit, yes, it’s a bit parky out there. I wouldn’t want to be on a boat in those gales, that’s for sure.’

The clock was gaining more speed, its second hand was whizzing in my mind.
Tick to
ck tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.
I tried to focus on it, to will it to stop its incessant spinning. Round and round, as my mind furiously continued to play with
little
cat’s cradles of feathery string, desperately trying to form a pattern. I needed clarity, tried to force it from beneath the swirls of fog around the string.

Tick tock tick tock
, the clock had got louder too, it was pounding in my head, I could feel the pendulum crashing against the inside of my forehead.

I took a deep breath and willed my mind to calm and then slowly, gradually
,
I felt my heart begin to slow its hammering at my chest, and I felt the storm in the waters of my brain begin to abate.
Images flitted across my inner vision, options...
I could get away from here,
get away from this house, this island, I could
run and not stop running. Perhaps I could make a new life for myself on the mainland, I’d often thought about it. I could change my name, start afresh,
I could
put all the bad stuff behind me. People did that sometimes,
they
re-invented themselves,
there was that movie once...
yes, maybe that’s what I should do.
A new
life, a new
me, I liked the sound of that.

‘Are you okay?’ Graham asked. ‘You look like you’re in a dream.’
 

‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ I murmured, as
the idea of running began to dissipate. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t just go, it
wouldn’t work
, I had the boys to think about. And I would never be able to relax, I would be lookin
g over
my shoulder every five minutes. No,
I didn’t want to live like that.

Tick tock tick tock
.

My head started to ache again, t
hen s
uddenly through the chiming mist,
new
patterns
began to emerge
. A shimmering embroidery of thoughts, idea
s...
sol
utions
.
And the throbbing in my head subsided as the mist cleared completely.