Lost Summer. Stuart Harrison
Читать онлайн книгу.
Did you see her?’
She shook her head. ‘If I did I don’t remember. I sat next to Alan.’
‘Alan Thomas?’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Not really. He was on the same train?’
‘Yes. I remember he said he was running late because his wife was away and he couldn’t cope without her or something. He made a joke of it. Anyway he promised to buy me a drink after work, but he never turned up. Actually, I was glad.’
‘Why?’
She hesitated. ‘It’s just that his wife was away, and you know, I wondered if he was making a pass. He didn’t actually say anything suggestive or anything. I’m probably being completely unfair.’
‘But something made you uncomfortable?’
‘A little I suppose.’
‘Intuition.’
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’
But Alan Thomas had sat with her all the way to London, she was positive of that. Had she seen him again after they left the train? She hadn’t. Who was to say he hadn’t bumped into Liz on the platform?
The next day he went back to London and when he arrived home Louise told him that Morris had phoned. ‘You didn’t cancel your appointment,’ she said. Her arms were folded, a wine glass in one hand.
‘I forgot. I’ll call him tomorrow.’
‘Will you make another time to see him?’
‘I don’t know. I think I’m on to something with the Liz Mount story. I might have to put Morris off for a little while.’
‘Christ!’
She slammed her glass down on the counter.
‘Look, it’s just temporarily,’ he said.
‘Right. Your bloody work comes first. Again!’
‘Come on, Louise,’ he said, and reached for her arm as she swept past.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she yelled, yanking free. ‘Just leave me alone!’
‘It’s not a case of my work coming first, dammit. This girl …’
‘I don’t want to hear about her! I don’t want to hear about any of it. There’s always some girl, some parent, somebody. Anybody except me! Where do I come in, Adam? Tell me that. Where do I come into your list of bloody priorities?’
‘That isn’t fair,’ he started to say, but she shook her head and turned away. He watched her go, heard the slam of the bedroom door.
Out of guilt Adam called Morris and made an appointment for two days’ time. When he arrived at the door he suddenly wondered if there was really any point going inside. That morning he and Louise had argued again. Nothing unusual about that, but it had quickly become a bitter fight. Things had been said by both of them that wouldn’t easily be forgotten. The kind of barbed remarks that are designed to inflict maximum damage. He didn’t think she deserved that. He didn’t either for that matter. By the time he’d left the house they’d both been ashamed to look one another in the eye, and anger had been replaced with the dull knowledge that perhaps this was hopeless.
Deep down, however, Adam knew that Louise’s anger stemmed from her frustration with him and he felt badly about that. In the end he kept his appointment and presently found himself at the window while Morris sat behind him, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
‘During our last session you were telling me about Castleton. You mentioned that you felt lonely when you moved there.’
Adam turned around. He’d been thinking about Liz Mount, wondering what his next move ought to be. ‘It got better after I started school.’
‘The boy you had the fight with went to the same school didn’t you say?’
‘Yes. His name was David Johnson. Nick and Graham, the other two who were there that day, went to the local comprehensive. David and I got to know each other. We ended up being friends.’
‘So, you felt accepted after that?’
‘Not exactly. Sometimes.’
When he looked back now, Adam didn’t think he’d ever felt accepted. Maybe if it had just been David, or even David and Graham it would have been okay. But Nick had never liked him. He tried to explain.
‘Graham was fairly easy-going. A follower I suppose. But when I came along Nick resented me. It didn’t help that David and I both went to the grammar school. David’s dad owned the local sawmill which had the contract for the wood on the estate, so he and Kyle had a lot to do with each other as well.’
‘Nick was jealous?’
‘Probably.’
‘And what was the effect of that?’
‘I think David felt caught in the middle sometimes.’
He recalled a time when they had arranged to go rabbiting. It was early and the town was quiet. They had arranged to meet at the church. Graham and David arrived a few minutes after Adam, but quarter of an hour later there was still no sign of Nick.
‘Why don’t we ring him?’ Adam suggested. There was a phone box on the other side of the square.
‘They haven’t got a phone,’ Graham said.
‘Let’s go to his house then. He might have slept in or something.’
‘It’s best if we wait,’ David said. ‘He’ll come when he can.’ He started idly scuffing his feet along the path between the gravestones while Graham began examining the palms of his hands.
‘I got these bloody blisters yesterday,’ he said, picking at the skin.
It was as if invisible shutters had closed. The subject wasn’t open for discussion but Adam felt excluded by his lack of understanding. He swallowed his frustration.
During that first year he’d lived in Castleton, Adam had never seen where Nick lived. He knew vaguely where it was; somewhere down past the council houses at the bottom end, close to the eastern edge of the wood, but he’d never been there. A faint air of mystery surrounded Nick’s family. Adam knew there was a younger sister who caught the school bus in the mornings and was as scruffy as Nick and just as sullen, and he’d seen their mother around town wearing a shapeless worn coat, her pale blotchy legs bare even in winter. But Adam had never seen Nick’s father, James Allen. Nick never mentioned him, and neither did David or Graham.
What little Adam had known he’d overheard in snatches of conversation between Kyle and his mother. Whenever there was poaching on the estate, or there had been an outbreak of theft, Kyle blamed Nick’s dad. He heard stories about Allen getting drunk in the local pubs and starting fights with men from the estate. Once he’d seen Nick’s mother in town with a black eye. Over time Adam had formed a mental image of the whole family living in Dickensian squalor, terrorized by an evil-tempered thug.
Eventually Nick had turned up that morning but he hadn’t offered any explanation for being late.
They rode their bikes out of town across the bridge and took the road that climbed steeply towards the fells. By eight the sun was already warm on their backs and the effort of the climb had made them sweat. At one point he and David had paused to rest. The others were still out of sight around a bend in the road behind them. On one side the road was bounded by a wall, and on the other by a thick hedge. A blackbird flashed by, chattering in alarm.
When the others finally appeared they were pedalling slowly. Nick’s bike was a big heavy machine that seemed to be made of cannibalized parts. He was wearing boots that looked too big for him, though the laces were undone. The leather was cracked, and the sole of one had come loose at the toe. It was flapping up and down, making