Never Tell (40 page)

‘Aye.’ Slowly he nodded. ‘’Fraid so.’ Then he bent his head to light his roll-up.

‘So.’ I was trying to catch up, to get my brain to catch up -but I was so shocked I couldn’t work it out. ‘So what, Danny? Or – I guess that’s not your real name.’

‘Rose,’ he came nearer, ‘I never meant to lie to you. But my hands were tied. I
couldn’t
tell you the truth.’ The Scottish burr suddenly sounded stronger than it ever had. ‘I didn’t have a choice. I really didn’t.’

‘You played me,’ I whispered, and I felt sick to my core. ‘You just used me to get to James. Oh God, oh God.’

‘Listen to me.’ He grabbed my wrists again and the smoke from his cigarette made my eyes water. ‘It was nothing to do with your husband, I swear. I wasn’t interested in him. No one was. He just got in the way, that’s all.’

‘So who were you interested in? Kattan, obviously.’

‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

‘Liberty? Are you taking the piss?’ I glowered at him.

‘Please, Rose.’ He dropped his hands. Did he look a little sad? ‘It’s so complicated.’

‘You know, when you ran away from me, I thought that hurt. But this, this is worse.’ My eyes filled with tears of rage and pain. ‘I thought – I thought that you quite liked me.’ I heard my pathetic plaintive tone and I despised myself.

‘I did. I do.’ He reached out to touch my face, but I ducked like I had in the rain that evening last year, turned away.

Slumping down at the bare table, I hid my face in my hands. ‘You don’t know what you’ve done to me, Danny Callendar. Or whoever you are. You have no idea.’

Everything I thought I knew had gone now; the ground beneath my feet was disintegrating. James and I were finished and though I knew he’d deserted me already, I suppose I’d held on to some vestige, that somewhere deep down, Danny had really cared. He must have loved me: he had come back to see me that night. But now, now I realised it was all just a game; that it had meant nothing. Worse than a game, even. Just a job.

‘Rose, please,’ Danny’s voice was tense. ‘I tried to stay away from you. Right from the start. I tried, and I know I fucked up, and I failed you. I couldn’t stay away. I tried.’

The tears were streaming down my face. ‘Why me?’

‘I couldn’t help it.’ He threw his fag on the floor and he walked towards me and he held my face between his hands. ‘Listen to me, you daft woman, I didn’t lie to you, not about my feelings. I was doing my job, but – and it’ll be fucking curtains for me,’ he had never sworn, I realised, normally, ‘it’ll be over for me if they know, but listen, listen to me, Rose.’

‘I’m listening.’ I breathed deep, trying not to sob.

‘It was just about you.’ He leaned towards me and he was almost whispering. I could see the tiny freckles on his nose now. ‘That’s all. Just you and me.’

And, oh God, I wanted to believe him; I needed something to hold on to as the world kept tipping on its head.

‘I’ve got to go, Rose. But listen …’

Tipping until it would throw me right off.

‘I
am
listening,’ I said fiercely, wiping my face.

‘I’ll find you again, I promise. Afterwards. I’ll come and explain properly.’

‘And James?’ I croaked.

‘Kattan had some kind of grievance against James that he never shared with me.’ Danny leaned down and gently wiped my face; just like he had once before. My skin felt like butter, like it would hold the imprint he lightly made.

‘Grievance? Over what?’

‘I don’t know exactly. He was settling scores for his son, I think.’

‘For Ash?’

‘Something to do with that secret society the barrister mentioned. Does that make sense?’

‘But –’ my mind was reeling – ‘but whatever, if huge drug deals were happening, why is Kattan not implicated? I don’t understand.’

‘Just because, Rose. He’s wanted for far bigger things. And James was stupid, he was tempted by greed and desperation. He should have stayed away from them. It was always going to be bad business.’

‘Are you saying James did it?’ I whispered.

Danny shrugged. ‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t know what I think, Danny. Or – or whoever you are. I don’t know anything any more.’

‘Listen, Rose. There’s nothing I can do to help him. He might get off, there’s a chance. But I swear, it was nothing to do with me; our paths just happened to cross. I’ve told them what I know, and the rest is down to the court. And I know I did the wrong thing with you, and I’m sorry for that. I swear.’ He hugged me. ‘I should never have come near you, Rose.’

He pulled me close and I clung to him. I knew he had betrayed me, but for a moment I clung on like my life depended on it. He kissed me once, on the lips, and this time he felt hot. His skin was hot, and somewhere, faintly, the lemon sherbet tasted bitter-sweet.

‘I shouldn’t have come near you,’ he murmured into my hair. Then he opened the door. ‘I shouldn’t – but I had to.’

‘Danny,’ I said urgently, and he turned. ‘What’s your name? Your real name?’

‘They call me Cal.’

‘Cal?’

‘I was born on the banks of the river Callendar.’ He smiled at me. I’d so rarely seen him smile. ‘That’s where we stayed. My family. Ma was a bit poetic, you see. Just call me Cal.’

And then he was gone. Somewhere deep inside, my instincts screamed; I knew I’d never see him again.

Chapter Thirty-Four

‘That fucking barrister,’ Liam kept saying. ‘Fucking ugly bitch.’

I clinked the ice around my glass, round and round it went. I tried to concentrate on Liam’s words as a group of laughing men came through the pub door. I turned abruptly at the sound of a Scottish accent. It wasn’t him; of course it wasn’t. Danny was long gone. I bit my lip hard. The pain took my mind off him for about a minute.

‘It was a fucking set-up, James was right,’ Liam was slurring in the background. ‘They fucking massacred me. That fucking bitch barrister made it sound like we’re just a pair of lightweights messing around with drugs and ravers.’ Liam slammed his glass down on the table and almost missed; it nearly fell onto the floor. ‘How fucking dare she?’

‘What did you expect?’ I said wearily, pushing the glass safely home.

‘I don’t know. Not that. Poor bloody James. I can’t believe how shit this all is.’ Liam clutched my hand. He was drunk, really drunk. He swayed forward alarmingly, until gently I pushed him back. ‘He’s going to get off, Rose, I know it. He’ll be home soon.’

I patted his hand. ‘Let’s hope so, lovely. Let’s hope so.’

* * *

The next day they called Saquib Baheev to the stand. I sat in the public gallery, thanking God for the small mercy of Kate’s mother not being here today, of her reproachful gaze. I listened as Saquib insisted he’d only done what he had been told, according to him: meeting people, couriering, driving for the Kattans. It all sounded very respectable at first.

‘I’m not trying to say I’m blameless, yeah? But I was just a soldier, right? Nadif, he was the man. I did do a bit of heavy stuff for him, for my sins.’

I sat up, alert suddenly. Trying but failing to win the jury over, Saquib blamed the entire thing on a man called Nadif Mosa: he was the mastermind, apparently.

‘The boss’s daughter’s boyfriend. He infiltrated the family through poor Maya.’ Saquib tried an eyebrow-raise that meant
Women, eh?
‘Well clever, that one. Fooled us all.’

Nadif. Maya’s boyfriend, who had died. The man I’d seen Saquib smash down in the gravel. He was obviously lying.

‘And what happened to Nadif Mosa, Mr Baheev?’

Baheev made another ill-judged attempt at conspiracy with the jury. He was not an attractive proposition right now, sweating and nervous, a false smile like a tic that he kept flashing at them in some kind of delusional hope. They stared blankly at him.

‘Let’s just say it ain’t wise to get high on your own supply. Know what I’m saying?’

‘Meaning?’ The barrister was brusque.

‘Meaning he majorly overdosed, yeah?’

This was borne out by a written statement from the coroner, and the court was adjourned for lunch before Baheev was questioned about James. I thought I’d better tell Ruth what I knew about Nadif, but she was nowhere to be found. I felt really shaky today; my appetite was shot and I’d hardly slept. Facts that made no sense pursued one another relentlessly round my head. I wished desperately that Danny were here; I wished desperately that I could stop thinking of him. He wouldn’t be the answer, I had to remember that.

Outside in the street, I leaned on the railing, glancing down the road. A group of barristers checked their BlackBerrys and smoked by the revolving doors, their robes flapping out behind them like clipped crows’ wings. Beyond them, a woman was on the phone beneath an elm tree. I looked again as she put her hand up for a black cab.

‘Excuse me.’ I began to walk towards her.

She was getting in the cab now, still on the phone.

‘Wait.’ I was hurrying now. ‘Please, wait …’ But too late. The cab was pulling off now into the busy lunch-time traffic.

I was sure it was Maya Kattan.

Slowly I walked back to the Old Bailey. Ruth was waiting for me outside the courtroom. She looked slightly feverish.

‘Something’s happened.’ She took my arm. ‘They’re adjourning the trial.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Some kind of new evidence has come to light.’

‘What does that mean?’ I was confused.

Was it my imagination, or was there a strange light in her eyes?

‘I don’t know. All I know right now is they’re adjourning the case for a few days.’ She clutched my arm. ‘Keep everything crossed for your poor husband.’

‘I am,’ I smiled shakily. ‘Believe me, I am.’

Chapter Thirty-Five

The moon was a chalk circle etched on the pale sky as I walked through the dusky city. Dodging tourists still snapping St Paul’s, I felt confused and washed out. My exhaustion was immense. At least now, I thought, trying to fix on a bright spot, at least I can go back to my parents and be with the kids. We might have to wait some more, but at least it’s nearly over.

Outside Jen’s flat, I was searching for the doorkey when my mobile rang.

‘Hello? Rose Langton?’ a creaky voice asked. ‘I saw you on the news at lunch-time. It jogged my memory.’

‘Sorry,’ I couldn’t place her, ‘who is this?’

‘I found something a while back, but I have to be honest, it’s been sitting in the in-tray.’ Peggy from Cutting Out. ‘Getting a bit forgetful, if I’m honest. You’ll have to come back if you want to see it. The fax is broken.’

The fax had been broken as long as I’d known her.

‘It might be tricky right now.’ I’d lost interest. I’d lost my fight. ‘I’m a bit tied up.’

‘It’s up to you, dear. I think you’ll be interested but – your choice. I’ll be here until seven.’

I hesitated on the corner of Jen’s square, and then a black cab trundled past. I took it as a sign, though this time I didn’t bother with the Pernod.

‘Sorry, dear,’ she said unapologetically as I walked through the door. ‘You slipped my mind, if I’m honest.’

‘Nice suntan.’ I admired her deep mahogany colour, against which her orange lipstick was more alarming than ever. The smell of cats was even stronger today in the fetid basement.

‘Yes, well, I popped over to see my dear friend the Sphinx. One never knows when it might be the last time, you know.’

‘Don’t say that, Peggy.’

‘Well, it’s true. Time waits for no woman, as they say, my dear.’ She rummaged through several wire trays, muttering to herself constantly. ‘I know it’s here somewhere.’

I turned over a copy of today’s
Telegraph
, a flurry of cat hairs wafting into the air as I did so. The front page bore a big picture of Lord Higham shaking hands with Boris Johnson outside City Hall.

‘UK Nationalists stride towards Westminster,’ the headline crowed. I shuddered.

‘One giant leap for racism?’ the
Guardian
asked. Thank God for Xav.

‘Aha.’ Triumphantly Peggy handed me a cardboard file. The first piece was on Kattan and his polo team in the late eighties, a very young Ash proudly wearing polo gear. I saw the insignia, the monogram, and I remembered the sign from the horses Dalziel and I had ridden at midnight such a long time ago. They had co-owned a polo team, Kattan and Higham, but I’d learned that much already. I felt a crash of disappointment.

‘Is this it?’ I said. ‘You’re so kind, but – I’m not sure – I think I’ve seen it.’ It was one of the pieces I’d found last time I was here.

Impatiently Peggy pulled something from behind it, pushing her raffish glasses on top of her head to peer at it.

‘You did say Huriyyah, didn’t you?’ She jabbed a gnarly finger at a tiny face. ‘I wasn’t going to forget that name in a hurry.’

On a rather crumpled piece of yellowing A4, there was a tiny photo of a glamorous young couple, an article from the society pages of
Harpers & Queen
, marked 1990, the bright colours faded, the edge slightly torn.

‘It means Angel you know, in Arabic, Huriyyah,’ Peggy said conversationally.

Huriyyah, wearing a midnight-blue evening dress, mouth wide and broad in a great smile of happiness. And with his arm around her proudly, head slightly tipped towards his lover, the look on his face unmistakable, straight-backed and debonair for one so young, Ash Kattan. Behind them a group of people, laughing, drinking cocktails.

And then a tiny article clipped from one of the broadsheets, dated December 1994.

Omar Rihad and his family have left the official residence in Kensington and returned home after the tragic and sudden death of eldest daughter Huriyyah, 24. Mr Rihad has worked as a diplomat in London for the past 7 years for the Emirate government. British envoy Lucas Johns extended his deepest sympathies, and in an unusual move, Lord Higham attended the funeral on behalf of the Prime Minister. It is his last official engagement before he also leaves British shores. Mr Rihad’s successor has yet to be announced
.

Nothing was mentioned about the way she’d died. I felt an intense wave of nausea.