A Walk in the Park (25 page)

Flynn saw her sitting on the steps outside the ER, white-faced and immobile with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. When he'd taken her call, she'd asked him to come, saying only in a voice that was barely recognizable, “It's James, something awful's happened.”

He pulled up away from the ambulances and jumped out of the car. Lara rose to her feet and made her way woodenly across the tarmac toward him.

“He's dead.” She was dry-eyed, too shocked to cry. “Oh God, I can't believe it. James is gone. He just…
died
.”

Flynn took her in his arms. James might have turned out not to be her father but getting to know him had meant the world to Lara. The connection between the two of them had been instantaneous. His heart went out to her.

“Come on, let's get you home.” He gently led Lara back to the car; she was walking like an automaton.

“The table's booked at the restaurant.” Her teeth were chattering. “We're all supposed to be meeting there at eight.”

“Don't worry, I'll sort that out.” Flynn helped her into the passenger seat. “I'll take care of everything.”

“Sorry. Being a nuisance again.”

Only someone in such a state of shock could come out with a statement like that. Bending down, he kissed the top of her head. “Put your seat belt on.”

“Oh God, and James's car. It's still there outside the park. We only paid for two hours.” Lara turned to him, her tone fretful. “He'll have got a ticket by now. What happens if it's towed away?”

“It's all right. Leave it to me. Have his next of kin been informed?”

“The police are doing that now.” She was twisting her fingers together in her lap. “We were having such a nice time. We went to see Janice and Joan, gave them the DNA results. Then in the park afterward we were just walking and talking about… well, loads of different things. I'd been making him laugh, telling him about the time Gigi thought her new Spiderman pajamas gave her superpowers and she jumped out of a tree. Then, a minute or so later, he collapsed. Without even any warning. He was just lying in the leaves and I couldn't find a pulse and this jogger came along who was a doctor, so we were trying to get his heart going again, keep him alive… then the ambulance arrived and they used defibrillators and injections and everything they could. It went on for ages but nothing worked. He'd gone.” Lara took a couple of deep shuddery breaths. “And we hadn't been walking up steep hills or anything, so it wasn't that. I just keep thinking it must have been me that caused it, making him laugh.”

***

It hadn't been her fault, needless to say. Lara knew that now. The post-mortem had revealed a catastrophic brain hemorrhage as a result of an aneurysm, a weakened blood vessel, bursting inside his head. The berry-shaped aneurysm had been there for years evidently, lurking like a time bomb; it could have happened at any moment. Telling James funny stories, the doctor had assured her, definitely hadn't caused the hemorrhage.

“Making people laugh is a good thing,” he'd added. “I can't think of a nicer way to go.”

Looking up as Don returned from his trip to the post office, Lara saw him let himself back into the shop unaware of the two lads directly behind him. The next moment they jostled him through the doorway, pulled Halloween masks out of their pockets, and crammed them onto their faces.

“OK, don't move, this is a stick-up, right?” slurred Dracula.

“Give us all your stuff!” yelled Zombie Head.

“Oh Jesus, oh God,
no
…” Don clutched his chest and tottered over to one of the mulberry upholstered chairs.

“Make up your mind then.” Lara pressed the panic button beneath the counter and gave the boys a hard stare; she'd seen them earlier, hanging around outside the shop and swigging Stella from cans. They couldn't be more than sixteen and from the sound of it weren't accustomed to strong drink.

“What's that mean?” Dracula, the taller of the two, swayed on his feet.

“You told me not to move,” said Lara. “But you also want me to give you all our stuff. I can't do both, can I?”

“OK.” Zombie Head nodded in bleary agreement. “Give us all your stuff. But do it slowly, yeah? No funny business.”

“Fine. Do you have a bag?”

“What?”

“To put all the stuff in,” Lara patiently explained.

“Haven't you got one?”

“Well, no, because why would I need one? Look, let me just check he's OK.” She went over to Don, who was hyperventilating and trembling, and checked his pulse. “It's all right, they won't hurt you.” Turning back to Zombie Head, Lara added, “He has heart problems, you know. I can't believe you'd do this to a man who isn't well. What kind of weapon do you have, anyway? A knife? A gun?”

“Both.” As if belatedly realizing it was meant to be an armed robbery, Zombie Head stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and made pistol fingers at her through the thin material. “I got a… gun. He's got a knife.”

Dracula swayed and said, “Yeah, I have.”

“Well, look, why don't you give me your hat and we can put everything in that? I'll start with some gold bracelets, shall I? The masks are great, by the way. Where did you get them from?”

“Phil bought them from that party shop place.” Dracula took off his beanie hat and handed it to her, revealing spikily gelled blond hair. “You know, the one that does all the costumes and stuff.”

“Ah yes, I've been there. It's a brilliant shop. Now, let's get this cabinet unlocked… oops, better just make sure we aren't disturbed by any other customers…” Lara crossed to the door, opened it, and said, “It's OK, just boys, they're unarmed.”

“Eh?” Dracula looked bemused.

“What's going on?” slurred Zombie Head.

Lara stood aside and let the police in to arrest them. Honestly, some people, they didn't have a clue. She said to Don, “OK now? I'll put the kettle on and make us a nice cup of tea.”

Having sobered up fast, Dracula started to sob as the two policemen handcuffed him, whisked off his mask, and patted him down. “Oh no, my mum's gonna go mental when she hears about this.”

The police took statements from Lara and Don, then carted the boys away for a fun-free afternoon down at the station.

“You treated the whole thing like a joke.” Don was fretful, refusing to calm down.

“That's because it was a joke. They were schoolboys on half-term break, so drunk they didn't know what they were doing.”

“They could have had guns!”

Lara said patiently, “Don, stop worrying about it. They didn't.”

“But what if it happens again tomorrow with robbers who
do
?” He mopped his brow and shook his head. “I'm going to keep thinking that now.”

“You won't. You'll be fine. Go home and get some rest. You'll feel better in the morning.”

“Rest? With my neighbors?
Ha
.”

He looked so upset. The racket next door had shown no sign of abating and the family had now acquired a cat that liked to sit on the wall each night yowling at the moon. When he'd attempted to protest, the charming mother had said, “Oh but, Don, how can we stop them? They're cats, bless them. It's what they do!”

Lara's heart went out to him. To add insult to injury, they had already cheerily informed Don that on Sunday afternoon and evening they'd be holding a party.

“Look, come over to us on Sunday. I'm going to do a big lunch. How about that?”

“Really?” Don, whose idea of a Sunday roast was the kind you bought frozen on a cardboard plate and cooked in the microwave, looked tempted but wary. “Didn't you say your aunt's coming down for the weekend?”

“Nettie? She is. That's why we're having a proper lunch.”

“I don't know. She sounds a bit scary.” He'd heard the stories from Lara about no-nonsense salt-of-the-earth Nettie.

“But in a nice way.”

“Hmm.” Don was still looking doubtful; he'd been intimidated by the tale of the escaped bull Nettie had once stopped in its tracks when it had gone on the rampage outside the local kindergarten in Keswick.

“Stop it, she's great. You'll like her,” said Lara. “I promise.”

***

Lara, lifting the blackberry crumble out of the oven, listened to the chatter and laughter carrying on in the living room. It was both strange and wonderful having Nettie back amongst them. Finally persuaded to leave her beloved animals in the care of Fred Milton, she had driven down yesterday morning and would be heading back up to Keswick tonight. Keeping in touch via phone calls over the past couple of months had been fine in its own way, but actually having her here was so much better. For the first time she had seen the house. Even more significantly, she'd met Flynn and they'd hit it off instantly.

“Come on then, tell us,” Lara heard Gigi saying now, “what's been the thing you've missed about us the most?”

“Goodness me, how can I choose? Your singing, perhaps?” Nettie sounded amused. “The splurts of toothpaste in the bathroom sink? The not-quite-empty Coke cans left in unexpected places?”

“Oh no, you haven't missed us at all! I bet you're loving having the place to yourself!
Hmm
.” Gigi's tone turned speculative. “So how are things going between you and Fred?”

Smiling to herself, Lara returned to the living room with the crumble just in time to witness the give-nothing-away expression on Nettie's face. It was the kind of look you'd see on a politician being ruthlessly interrogated on
Question
Time
.

“Fred's very well. Finished harvesting his potatoes. I gave him a hand with his ewes last week. All dipped and clipped, they are, ready for tupping.”

Don frowned. “Tupping? What's that?”

“Mating.” Nettie, who always enjoyed shocking townies, kept a straight face. “That's why the tail area needs to be clipped.”

“Ah.”

“No need to blush, darling. All perfectly normal. It's just sex.”

His flush deepening, Don swallowed and said, “Right.”

After a long lunch, during which the story of Don's neighbors came out, Nettie said, “Come on then, shall we get this thing sorted out?”

“Excuse me?” Don glanced up, belatedly realizing she was addressing him.

“That noisy crew next door to you, the ones making your life a misery. I reckon they need a good talking-to.”

“I've already spoken to them.” He looked alarmed.

“And how much of an effect did that have?”

Lara watched, enthralled.

“But the thing is, they're really nice people,” Don protested.

“Excellent,” said Nettie. “I shall be really nice too. I'll be an official from the council investigating noise pollution. I'll explain that unless they get their act together I shall be forced to serve a Noise Abatement Notice on them.”

“They'll know it's me who complained!”

“And so they should!”

“Oh God, they'll hate me.”

“And you'd rather suffer in silence?” Nettie raised her eyebrows at him in disbelief. “Let your blood pressure climb until your heart explodes like a bomb? That, my darling, is called dying of politeness. Come on, let's go.”

As Nettie rose to her feet, Lara said, “Do council officials wear checked shirts and jeans?”

Nettie said, “This one does.”

Don was surveying her as if she were a rogue firework that might be about to go off. “Are you always like this?”

“Only when it matters.” She reached for her keys and jangled them at him. “Right, hop to it. The sooner we leave, the quicker we'll be back.”

Which didn't exactly happen, it had to be said. Dusk fell, the lights of Bath came on, the hours passed, and Lara was on the verge of heading over to Don's house herself when they finally returned at nine thirty.

“Where the bloody hell have you two been?” She eyed them in disbelief. “Why didn't you answer your phones?”

Nettie said reasonably, “Mine's in Keswick.”

“And mine's right here.” Don patted the inside pocket of his smart cashmere jacket. “It didn't ring. Oh, sorry, battery's flat.”

“We were worried about you! I thought maybe the noisy neighbors had drugged and buried the pair of you under their patio.”

“She's always been like this.” Nettie shook her head apologetically at Don. “Overdramatic.”

“You've been gone for four hours!”

“The neighbors invited us to their party,” Don explained.

“And you
went
?”

“He's right, they're lovely people.” Patiently Nettie said, “I did have a chat with them about the noise and they promised to keep it down in future.”

“They've done that before,” said Gigi.

“Well, maybe this time they'll take notice. Anyway,” said Don, “we had a good time. There was karaoke.”

“You mean you
sang
?” squeaked Lara.

“‘I Dreamed A Dream.'” He looked proud. “From
Les
Misérables
.”

“And you?” She turned to Nettie, whose gray-blonde hair was escaping from its clips.

“She did ‘Born To Be Wild,'” said Don.

Oh
good
God
. “Seriously?”

Gigi said, “Wow.”

Nettie said, “Can you two stop looking at me like that? I got a standing ovation.”

“She did,” Don marveled.

“And was drink involved?”

“Of course not.” Nettie was brisk. “I'm driving home tonight. In fact it's time I made a move now. I need to be up again at six to milk the goats.”

Harry gazed out at the twinkling lights of the harbor and marveled that he was here. EnjaySeven's tour had crisscrossed the continents, moving from Japan to Australia, from New Zealand to Singapore. Finally back in Europe to promote the upcoming TV series, he had called and persuaded Harry to join him in Monaco for the weekend so they could perform their odd-couple double act for the press due to interview them tomorrow. The photographers, at a guess, would joyfully play up the juxtaposition of fuddy-duddy Harry exploring this, the flashiest of billionaires' playgrounds. He would be pictured on sleek yachts. There would be scantily clad girls with even sleeker curves and the kind of breasts money
could
buy.

Oh well. Harry, now comfortably settled on the wrought-iron balcony onto which his hotel room opened, sat back and sipped his coffee. Back at home the skies were leaden and the air temperature in single figures, yet here in Monte Carlo's balmy microclimate, the sky was inky blue, the stars were huge and bright, and he was out here at ten in the evening in just his shirtsleeves.

Dinner downstairs earlier had been delicious. The hotel—a five star, naturally—was spectacular. And he'd started reading a book on the flight down here that was proving to be unputdownable. Checking how many pages he still had left to read, Harry saw to his satisfaction that there were three hundred. Excellent.

Other than the faint buzz of traffic and nightlife in the distance, peace reigned. Perfect coffee, fresh fruit in the bowl on the table beside him, and maybe a cognac later. Harry opened his book and began to read. Ah yes, there were definitely worse ways to spend a weekend.

***

“That's good… oh yes, great… now just turn over onto your front, darling, and let Enjay run his finger down your spine.”

Harry, sitting in the shade while the photographer danced around Enjay and the two bikini-clad models, watched as Enjay gave the blonde model's bikini tie a playful tug.

“Hey, naughty.” She giggled and pouted up at him over her shoulder.

“Sorry, babe, can't help myself. Kind of just happens.” Enjay rested his hand lightly in the curve of her spine and winked at the second model as he said it. In turn, she blew him a kiss.

“Perfect,” yelled the photographer, snapping away. “Harry, I want you in the background, peering at them over the top of your glasses and looking disapproving.”

Enjay's pointed teeth flashed. “Harry can do that, he's had plenty of practice.”

It was midday and they were on one of the yachts moored in the harbor, bright sunlight bouncing off the polished steel, the white paintwork, and the varnished wood of the upper deck. As the photographer finished up, the journalist put his phone away and prepared to begin the interview. In his midforties and sporting a slicked-back ponytail, he said good-humoredly, “Is he always like this?”

“Oh yes.” Harry nodded.

“Hey, man, what you see is what you get.” Enjay was standing up now, his hand briefly cupping the blonde's pert bottom as she sashayed past him. “It's just the way I'm made, take it or leave it.”

The journalist switched on the voice recorder, placing it on the table between them as Enjay pulled up a chair. “And I'm guessing they don't often leave it.”

“Why would they, man? I keep myself in shape. I know how to treat a lady. Just ask the one I met in the casino and brought back to the hotel last night.”

“And Marina doesn't mind you sharing yourself around?”

Enjay shrugged. Marina was one of the backing singers he'd been seeing recently during the course of the tour. “I haven't asked her. If she minds that much, no one's forcing her to put up with it. But let's be fair, she's thousands of miles away and I'm here.”

“Cool, cool.” The journalist nodded with approval. “Their choice.”

“Exactly.” Adjusting the sleeves of his pistachio-green suit, Enjay paused to admire his reflection in the side of the silver ice bucket. “If they decide they don't want me, they can always say no.”

“And has anyone ever done that?”

Enjay's light brown eyes gleamed as he paused for effect then broke into a wolfish, self-satisfied grin. “Uh…
no
.”

***

The day had been filled with back-to-back interviews. When Enjay's immaculate pale-green suit creased in the heat, it was replaced with an identical white one, then an hour or so later with a silver tuxedo.

Finally the last TV crew left, the empty champagne bottles were carried off the yacht, and a limo took them back up the narrow winding road to the hotel.

“Can I ask you something?” said Harry as they rode up in the mirror-lined elevator to the fourth floor.

“Fire away, old chap.” Enjay still loved to practice his over-the-top British accent.

Harry waited until he'd stopped admiring his profile in the double-angled mirrors. “Why did you lie to that journalist?”

“Say what?”

“The one with the ponytail. You spun him a story about the girl you spent the night with last night. But it wasn't true, was it?”

Enjay's jaw tightened; he was no longer studying his reflection. “It was.”

“No, it wasn't.” They'd reached their floor. The doors slid silently open and they stepped out.

“I don't know what you're gettin' at, man.”

Harry paused at his door then watched as Enjay used his key card to open his own. His hand wasn't trembling but nor was it entirely steady.

“I'm not having a go at you, I'm just curious.” Following Enjay into his suite, Harry added, “I don't understand why you'd say all that stuff in the first place. You seem to think there's something admirable about sleeping with girls you don't even know, but I promise you there isn't.”

“OK, what makes you think I'm lying about last night?” There was an odd look on Enjay's face.

Should he back off? No, he jolly well wasn't going to. “I just know,” said Harry.

“Bullshit, man. You said you were having an early night. You'd have been asleep way before we even left the casino.”

“Normally, yes, I would.” Harry stood his ground. “But I was reading a good book. I heard you come back at midnight,” he went on. “I was sitting out on my balcony and your window was open. I wasn't eavesdropping,” he added, because Enjay had now begun pacing the room like a panther. “I just heard you flick through the TV channels. You called your mother and chatted to her for a bit. Then you had a shower and watched an old episode of
Star
Trek
. After that you must have fallen asleep. I was outside until gone three and you
definitely
didn't have anyone else in that room with you.”

“Fine.” After a pause, Enjay's shoulders slumped. “You're right. I was on my own last night.”

“So why—?”

“Hey, it's just something to say. That's the way people expect me to behave. All part of the job description.”

“Well, that's where I think you're wrong,” said Harry. “A lot of people would be far more impressed if you were just honest with them.”

At this, Enjay emitted a brief bark of laughter. Turning his back on Harry, he gazed for several seconds through the full-length glass doors leading out onto his own balcony. Then his shoulders began to shake.

Watching him, Harry was puzzled. Surely it hadn't been that funny? After a moment he said, “I don't get it.”

“Don't you? Really?” Slowly Enjay turned to face him and Harry, to his horror, saw that there were tears glistening in his eyes. He hadn't been laughing at all. “You think my fans would want me to be honest? Well, let me tell you, they would not. No way, man. They'd be repulsed. My career would… I don't know, disappear into some bottomless pit. I wouldn't have no career, that's for sure.”

Harry was bemused. “But, but… why would that happen? Pop stars don't have to behave like you do.” Blindly casting around for a suitable role model, he exclaimed, “Look at Sir Cliff Richard. He doesn't sleep around and everyone loves him!”

“They do? Funnily enough, that doesn't make me feel better.” Enjay stopped and cleared his throat, then gazed directly at Harry. “You still don't have the faintest idea what I'm sayin', do you?”

And up until that moment, Harry genuinely hadn't known or even suspected. But Enjay's manner was resigned and his eyes were still swimming; he blinked and a single tear rolled down his left cheek.

“Um… I'm not sure…”

“OK, but I think you've got it now. So I'm just gonna come right out and say it, because if I don't talk to someone I'm going to lose my mind. And I trust you, man. I'm trusting you with this and I hope I can rely on you to keep it to yourself because I swear to God I can't tell any other person on this earth.” Enjay's voice cracked as he reached the end and roughly brushed his hand over his face. “Oh shit, I can't believe I'm doing this.”

Harry watched him cross the room, remove a miniature of vodka from the fridge, and knock it back in one go. Something else he'd noticed in the past was that for all the conspicuous champagne consumption Enjay urged on those around him, he actually drank very little himself.

Presumably because he couldn't afford to lose control, to let his guard down, for so much as a single second.

“You're gay.” Harry said it and saw him flinch.

Enjay nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am. Oh God.” He was hyperventilating now. “And this is the first time I've ever said it aloud. I'm gay. I'm a liar, I'm a fraud, I'm a homosexual, and I'm never going to be able to live a normal life. I'm never going to be happy. My family would disown me if they knew. And I'd never sell music again because who wants to follow a freak?”

“You're not a freak.”

“Trust me, in my world it's not what you dream of. If my family ever found out, they'd die of shame. If I ever left my house, I'd be yelled at in the street.”

“It can't be that bad,” Harry persisted. “People might be surprised at first, but they'd get used to it. You'd still be you.” He felt himself flush because talking like this wasn't exactly something that came naturally.

“I would still be me.” Enjay rubbed a hand wearily over his jaw. “In their eyes I'd still be a faggot. Trust me, in my job no one's going to forgive me for that. Which is why no one's ever going to find out.”

He was serious. He meant it. Thinking it through, Harry realized he was right. In Enjay's world, homosexuality was something you didn't admit to; amongst his peers it simply wasn't an acceptable state of affairs. He would become an object of ridicule and his fans would desert him in their droves.

“I won't breathe a word. Ever,” said Harry. “You can trust me.”

Enjay nodded. “Thanks, man. I know. That's the only reason I told you.”

Following his confession, he was looking emotionally drained. Harry could only imagine the extent of the pressure he must have been under for years.

“So all those girls… the groping, the come-ons, the flirting…”

“I didn't want to do it. I had to.” Enjay grimaced. “I know I act like a complete sleazebag, but it's what the world expects you to do.”

“You kissed Lara.”

“Sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Don't tell her about me, man. Please.”

“I won't. Everything was for show,” Harry marveled. “Did you sleep with any of them? Girls, I mean.”

“Just a few.” He pulled another face. “Carefully chosen. Only the ones I knew would brag about it to the press. With the rest of them I just made out I was too tired. No one wants to admit to being the girl who wasn't exciting enough to keep EnjaySeven awake.”

“What about Marina?” said Harry.

“She's just a friend. We play computer games together.”

“OK, but one thing's bothering me. You're so adamant no one's going to discover the truth…”

“They aren't. It can't happen. If word ever gets out,” said Enjay, “it won't have come from me. So I'll know it was you.”

Had he seriously not considered the risks? “What about… if
they
say something?”

“They who?”

“You know.” Harry cleared his throat; just choosing the right words was awkward enough. “The men you… are friendly with.”

“You mean the ones I have sex with?” Enjay regarded him frankly. “Is that what you're trying to say?”

“OK, yes. But doesn't that worry you? Any of them could go to the papers, blackmail you…”

“Believe it or not, I do know that. And yes, it's something that concerns me. But it's never going to happen.”

Exasperated on his friend's behalf, Harry burst out, “How can you be so sure?”

Enjay turned away, clasping both hands behind his head and tilting it from side to side as if to ease the accumulated muscle tension in his neck. Finally, addressing the wall, he said tonelessly, “Because there aren't any men I have sex with. For precisely that reason. It's a risk I can't afford to take.” He paused and swung back round to face Harry. “So I don't take it. End of.”

“What? Never?” Truly shocked now, Harry said, “Never
ever
?”

“Not since I was eighteen. Hidden cameras, getting stuff recorded on mobile phones… how can I take that chance?” Those light brown eyes were brimming once more. “Better safe than sorry.”

“It's no way to live.”

“It's the only way to live. I don't have any other choice.”

“What happened when you were eighteen?” Harry sensed that this was what had triggered the return of the tears.

“Oh, nothing much. I got friendly with a boy in our town. We used to go fishing every weekend. He was… the same as me. We ended up spending the summer together. It was our secret and no one ever found out. But Shaun couldn't handle the guilt, you know? He hated the way he was, just wanted to be normal. It really got to him, he couldn't see a way out.” Enjay paused, swallowing hard as he struggled to compose himself. “Anyhow, he got more and more desperate and depressed. I tried my best to help him through it, but there was nothing I could do to help. Shaun was something he didn't want to be and he just couldn't handle it. The shame was too much to bear…”