The idea of this – that I am beyond the conventional in every way – appeals to me. ‘Thanks.’
‘It wasn’t exactly a compliment.’
I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, then Inger knocks on the open door and shoots me a look that I translate as concern. Do I look in need of help? I don’t feel it. ‘Inger, come on in. Do you remember Rebecca?’
‘We never met properly.’ They shake hands, a very businesslike gesture.
‘So you’re on board?’ says Inger. She’s so very direct. I hope Rebecca will respond in kind.
‘Yes, all right, consider me signed up.’ Rebecca lets out a long breath. ‘So where do we begin?’
I wait for them both to sit down again, so we are all gathered around the table. Inger has brought along a pen and paper, and looks ready to take notes. This has officially become a business. ‘We’re going to start by getting Moira back.’
‘The statue,’ says Rebecca.
‘Yes.’
‘The statue that got destroyed in the basement.’
Inger and Rebecca exchange looks. Well, let them both think I’m mad, as long as it unites them. They have to learn to work together.
‘It didn’t get destroyed. It’s in Crete.’
Rebecca gives me her best maternal, disapproving look, as if she’s just walked into the kitchen to find me smearing jam on the walls. ‘What would it be doing in Crete?’
‘You have to trust me on this.’ Or perhaps I’m asking too much. ‘No, okay, you don’t even have to do that. You just have to get this place up and running while I go to the cave in Crete, find her and bring her back here where she belongs.’
‘The cave in Amelia Worthington’s story?’ says Rebecca. ‘Seriously? Why would Moira – the statue – be back there, anyway?’
‘Because women go round in circles.’
Inger and Rebecca stare at me, and then we all burst out laughing.
‘It’s not safe to be travelling alone,’ says Rebecca, finally, and the atmosphere in the room changes, thickens, into a sense of uncomfortable possibility. I really am going to Mount Ida.
‘You sound like Hamish,’ I tell her. ‘And I’m not asking you to condone my decision. I’m asking you to run this place. That’s what you’ll be good at. The two of you, together – the unstoppable administrators.’
‘I don’t think much of that as a super-power, do you?’ she says to Inger.
Inger leans forward and takes my hand across the table. It’s such an unexpected gesture that I feel my cheeks flush and tears prick my eyes. For all Rebecca’s objections, it’s Inger’s compassion that could undo me. I could ask them to go with me, to risk walking into that cave.
And then I force myself to remember what Moira did to the last people who entered the cave in Mount Ida, and I know I have to go alone. I stand up and pull my hand free. ‘Listen, it’s going to be fine. Inger, can you show Rebecca to the staff accommodation? I’ve got to organise my flight.’
I walk out of the room before anything more can be said. Between them, they will do everything that must be done to get this place running. They won’t need me at all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In the back of Sam’s Mini, he crouched: cold, squashed, numb.
They had agreed on 8:30 p.m., but David didn’t dare check his watch for fear that the light on the dial could possibly be spotted from outside. It was so dark, beyond what he had imagined when he pictured this moment. It made him sure that he had failed to envisage other happenings – what hadn’t he planned for? How could he keep Sam safe in every circumstance? It was impossible to guarantee.
He tried to push such thoughts away, and forced his mind to return to the plan.
Sam would return from the supermarket laden with carrier bags at 8:30 p.m. She would walk through the deserted car park, and then open the boot to her Mini to load the bags. She would slam the boot and walk around to the driver’s seat, and if nothing happened in that time span, she would simply get in and drive away.
But if something did happen, David was ready.
Except that his legs were slowly turning to stone in this position. He had no sensation left in his cramped thighs. That was what he hadn’t counted on – he wouldn’t be able to get to her, to leap from the car in time to save her. Surely his body would never respond.
He had to trust it. His body would automatically respond to Sam’s need. It would wake up, come to life, as it did whenever she walked into the room. They had been living together for three weeks now and he couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough. He only felt sure of her safety when he was inside her. At all other times, from morning to night, he watched her, trying to protect her. If she was threatened, he was certain something in him would awaken. Something primitive, violent.
‘I hear you’re shacked up with the policewoman,’ Arnie had said last night, over a pint in The Cornerhouse.
‘Yes, I, um…’
‘Good on you.’ Arnie clapped him on the back, a strange, congratulatory gesture that belonged to a different age. ‘She’s a pretty little thing. Going to help you catch that bastard, is she?’
‘How did you know that?’
He tapped the side of his head. ‘Saw it. Geoff’ll be coming along too, just as back up.’
‘No, I think I’d rather handle it alone,’ David said, his eyes on Mags, who was slumped over the bar, her hands in her hair, her white blouse dishevelled. Every time he saw her she looked smaller, greyer.
‘Up to you. But it won’t work out in your favour without Geoff.’ Arnie took a sip of his pint. ‘It’s just how I’ve seen it. Tomorrow night. You in the car, her as bait. Geoff’ll just happen to be walking past, like.’
And, because Arnie had seen it, David went along with it.
The world had gone crazy anyway. Crime rates were rising, the internet was filled with talk of taking matters into your own hands, forming groups, taking stands. It had become, so quickly, a world of them and us, retribution and revenge, derisions and decisions that would affect thousands. It was a pandemic of punishment; believing that one old man could see the future seemed like the least of David’s worries.
He shifted his weight and rubbed his legs. Where was Geoff? It was impossible to see anything outside the car, now that the timed safety light on the library wall had switched back off. Sam had assured him that the police had moved on from their patrols in this area. Crime was everywhere – they couldn’t afford to sit outside one building while gangs of teenage boys staged battles in the streets.
There was still no sign of Sam.
Maybe his enemy had been waiting in the alley instead. He could have grabbed her while David crouched there, like an idiot, could have dragged her to a quiet place where he could take his photographs and work up the courage to put his fingers where his lens had gone. The thought was enough to make David move. He stretched up, reached for the inner handle of the car.
Footsteps.
The steps, quick and light, approached the car. The safety light switched on, cast shadows around the back seat. He heard the blip of the key fob, and the locks in the Mini slid up. The boot opened. Cold air poured into the car and the rustle of plastic bags, so close to his head, made him flinch.
The boot slammed shut. He heard Sam’s feet move to the driver’s door, not too fast, taking her time.
‘Excuse me?’
A man’s voice, low, in a local accent, close to the car. ‘Excuse me, have you dropped this?’
It had to be him. David felt it, knew it, as adrenaline uncurled in his stomach and spread through his veins; it was him.