‘The kitchen’s upstairs,’ she said.
Mike inspected the row of paintings of ancient warriors and battles that lined the hallway. He stopped in front of one.
‘What’s this?’
‘ Waterloo. An ancestor fought there.’ She pointed out a crowd of besieged soldiers in blue. ‘For Napoleon.’
‘Family of heroes, eh?’
‘Glorious losers more like.’
Once in the kitchen, Billi got busy with the kettle. There were a few teabags left in the PG tin, and just about enough milk in the carton. She had to grind the sugar out of the pot using the knife as a chisel, but eventually the water was boiled and two steaming cups were down on the table.
Billi dragged up a stool and sat down opposite. She was suddenly painfully aware of the faded tablecloth, the yellow-stained tiles and the lopsided cabinets. The lino on the floor was torn, revealing the old, warped floorboards and even the mug she held was chipped.
‘I’m sorry. Bit of a mess,’ she mumbled, embarrassed.
‘Just needs a lick of paint,’ said Mike generously. ‘Your dad’s obviously not into DIY.’
Paint wasn’t going to cover it up. This wasn’t anyone’s home. It was a place of Templar business and she just happened to sleep here. She glanced at the wall. Where had the photos gone? She couldn’t even remember when they’d been taken down. There used to be loads: of her, Dad. And Mum. All gone now.
‘My dad’s not very handy around the house.’
‘Sounds hard.’ He sighed. ‘I know how you feel.’ Billi looked up at him. Mike was gazing away, far away. ‘My father is… distant. I left home ages ago.’
‘Do you miss it?’
‘Every day.’
The crash made Billi jolt out of her skin.
Tea splattered over the table as she looked up to see Arthur, standing at the doorway. A heavy bergen bag lay dropped at his feet.
‘Who’s this?’ Fiery embers crackled in his gaze.
He’s been fighting. She shuddered to think what might be in the bag. She had to get Mike out.
But Mike was already up. He crossed the room and held out his hand. ‘Mike Harbinger.’
Arthur ignored it. He went to the sink and began washing his hands.
‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘We need to talk, Billi.’
Billi was mortified. She knew her dad would be like this.
‘Thanks for the tea,’ said Mike, smiling and apparently unconcerned by her dad’s rudeness. Billi jumped out of the chair.
‘I’ll show you out.’
She took him downstairs, and to the front door. She checked over her shoulder to make sure her dad was well out of earshot.
‘I’m sorry about that. My dad’s a bit funny with strange visitors.’ Mike raised an eyebrow as Billi realized what she’d said. ‘Not that you’re strange. At all.’ Oh God, what is wrong with me? Mild concussion from the fight. Had to be.
‘You’re a strange one yourself, Billi,’ said Mike. ‘Most girls would be pretty freaked out after a night like this. You sure you’re going to be OK?’
The rain was heavier now. Billi spotted a glistening drop roll down Mike’s neck, getting tangled in the thorn tattoos.
‘Yes, yes. You’d be surprised how rough some of these lawyers get around here.’ She shifted awkwardly at the door. ‘Well, thanks for everything. Y’know, for saving my life and everything.’
Oh, that was so totally cool. Stop speaking. Now.
Mike grinned. ‘Shame I never got to finish my tea.’ He looked up towards her kitchen window on the upper floor. ‘Why don’t we try that again, somewhere else, maybe?’
He’s asking me out. At least she thought that’s what he was doing. Unsurprisingly, boys usually never came anywhere near Billi, let alone asked her out. Her dad’s reputation made sure of that.
Not sure how to respond, she just nodded. Mike handed her his mobile so she could enter her number and she was instantly aware of the touch of his hand on hers, surprisingly warm despite the cold rain.
Billi’s fingers stumbled over the tiny keypad and she had to take a deep training breath to calm herself enough to get the stupid digits right. Mike inspected the screen before flicking his mobile shut.
‘Then I’ll see you soon, maybe?’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ She only just managed to get the words out.
Mike waved before retreating into the darkness, his shape fading into the hazy gloom between the pools of orange under the street lights. Then he was gone.
Billi lingered, watching the sparkling raindrops catch the lamplight as they fell like gold over the cobblestones.
Back in the kitchen, her dad had emptied out his bergen. Newspaper covered the table and he was wiping down a savage-looking kukri with a cloth and some oil. A steaming mug lay beside it.
Billi could barely look at her dad as she came in. ‘He’s gone, thanks to you.’
‘People like that only complicate things.’
‘People like what?’
‘Like that. Boyfriends.’
Billi turned abruptly and faced the sink, hoping her dad couldn’t see the tell-tale redness of her face.
‘He’s only a friend.’
Arthur just looked at her. ‘Elaine told me what happened.’ He put down his knife. ‘Are you all right?’
Billi almost fainted with shock. Was her dad being ‘concerned’? Her tongue momentarily died on her. She nodded.
‘Good. I need you focused. There’s work to do,’ he said.
How stupid. Not concerned at all. He was just worried she wouldn’t be fighting fit.
‘Nothing ever matters to you except this bloody Order.’ Billi grabbed the side of the sink, digging her nails into the old wood, trying hard not to explode. ‘You don’t want me to have anything else, do you?’
Arthur’s face was impassive. He didn’t bat an eyelid.
Billi walked away towards her bedroom; she was so tired now.
‘I did not choose this life,’ she said. But before she could leave the room she heard his reply.
‘None of us ever do,’ he said.
8
A few days passed and still nothing from Mike. Her dad had won – again. He bullied everyone and now he’d scared Mike off and, with him, a chance Billi might have had of a life outside the Order. She should accept it, like the others.
But she couldn’t. She kicked off the duvet. This was not the life she wanted.
She leaned over to her bedside table and flicked open her mobile for the millionth time, hoping some text or message might have come while she’d been asleep. Nothing. Damn it! She shouldn’t be surprised: who in their right mind would want to go out with a girl who had a psycho for a father?
She slid out of her pyjamas and into her tracksuit. It was six, the birds outside hadn’t even woken yet and here she was, too angry to sleep. There was only one solution.
The catacombs ran everywhere under the Temple district. Secret warrens, tunnels and chambers had been excavated by the Templars of old, and all record of them had conveniently vanished over time so only the knights themselves were aware of their existence. There was even a secret access to the underground Fleet River, unbeknown to all above. Few realized how the ancient bones of the city slept under the steel and glass towers of modern London. Billi entered the underground armoury and switched the lights on. The harsh white fluorescent tubes glowed along the walls, illuminating the ancient bricks, the low vaulted ceiling, the cold flagstone floor and the weapons. It had once been the Templar ossuary. Even now the bones of the ancient knights rested in crudely carved alcoves along the walls. After all this time Billi still felt the slight tremor of dread as she entered the gloomy chamber under the gaze of those old bones. In a hundred years would her own sightless skull sit there, watching some new squire training, perhaps with the very same weapons? She shivered, and it wasn’t because of the cold.