Redemption (27 page)

I whispered a goodbye as she walked out the door for the last time. She never even looked back.

It was my idea to go back to the same American restaurant we’d gone to on the night of the attack. Oliver hadn’t liked the idea at first. He saw it as getting too close to the painful events of 2007, but I looked at it in an entirely different way.

To me, being able to go back to the same diner from that awful night was a sign that we had moved on. Once again, Oliver was playing in the World Cup and England were in the quarter-finals. We were within our rights to celebrate.

“We’ve kind of cheated by not inviting Maisie,” Oliver said. “It would have been fun to make her order the kids' meal again.” 

“You still remember what we ate that night?”

“I remember every little detail from that night. Do you want to order the same thing?”

“Sure. But this time I’ll have a real cocktail and not that virgin one I had last time.”

“So you remember as well?” Oliver asked. 

“I remember being embarrassed at having to order a non-alcoholic cocktail. I’d spent the entire summer pretending to be grown up and mature, but the waiter asked for ID when I ordered the drink. I was so embarrassed.”

“It was cute. Besides, I couldn’t drink either. And I can’t tonight.”

“Well, I’m not a professional athlete, so it’s going to be a Manhattan for me.”

Outside had been a bit chilly, so I had on a jacket and sweater, but once we were inside I quickly warmed up. Oliver eyed my sweater and I knew he wanted me to take it off, but exposing my scar in public was still something I had to ease into.

Once we’d ordered our food, I slowly slipped the sweater off and put it on the empty chair next to me. The second my bare arms were on display, I felt a cold shiver up my spine, and I knew that was the result of nerves more than the temperature.

“You okay?” Oliver asked, placing his hand on mine. 

I nodded. “I’ll be fine. Just trying to get used to it still.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you want, I could pay for cosmetic surgery on the arm. It goes without saying that I think you’re fucking beautiful already, but if it really bothers you that much… well, it’s an option anyway.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t want it removed.”

“You want to keep torturing yourself with the reminder that you weren’t able to stop the attack? Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out quite like that. You know what I mean.”

“It’s fine. You’re right. I do want the reminder there, but not just because of the attack. The burn marks on my arm are part of who I am. Besides, they’re not as noticeable as Maisie’s.”

“Will she want surgery do you think?”

I nodded. “I expect so, yes. We spoke to a doctor about it, but he didn’t want to do the operation while she was still growing. Plus, it’s ridiculously expensive.”

“I can pay for it.”

“I know, moneybags,” I said teasingly. “Thank you.”

The meal was unremarkable and I loved it. No one recognized Oliver all night. Perhaps they assumed such a big star wouldn’t be seen in cheap restaurants. 

I’d made a big fuss about not being scared to relive the events of 2007, but I wouldn’t have been able to take the same walk home. Oliver lived in a different direction to his mom, so thankfully we never had to retrace our steps from that night.

“What’s the deal with Maisie and Shaun at the moment?” Oliver asked, as I linked my arm in his. “Shaun still won’t share all the details with me.”

“I think they’re just going to be friends,” I replied. “Maisie likes him, but I get the impression it’s platonic.”

“I was getting that vibe as well. Must say I’m a little relieved.”

“Yeah, that girl is growing up way too fast for my liking. As far as I’m concerned, she should be a virgin until eighteen like I was.”

Oliver laughed. “I’m hoping Shaun follows in your footsteps and not mine in that regard. You don’t even want to know what I was doing at his age.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Nothing half as entertaining as what we do now of course,” he added.

“Good comeback.” 

“Thank you. I talked to Shaun the other day about potentially moving to the US.”

“How did that go?”

“Good, actually. I won’t go as far as to say he sounded excited—you know what Shaun’s like—but he didn’t dismiss the idea. He’s not too keen about ending up in Virginia though. In his words, ‘my kind are not welcome there,’ which might be a good point.”

“Virginia’s not too bad,” I said. “We’re only a little bit racist.”

“You should put that on the license plates.”

I smiled. “‘Virginia: not as racist as some other states.’ You’re right though; let’s go somewhere new. Start afresh. Won’t Shaun miss his friends?”

“I think Maisie’s his best friend these days,” Oliver said. “He’ll miss rugby though. That could be an issue, but in a few years he’ll be going to uni anyway and can probably play it there.” 

“If you’re going to move to the US, you’re going to have to stop saying things like ‘uni.’”

“Sorry. ‘College,’” he said in a weird voice.

“Was that supposed to be an American accent?”

“Yes,” he replied, looking slightly offended.

“No. Just no. Don’t ever do that again.”

“Sorry,” Oliver said, again attempting an American accent.

“Wanker,” I said, in my best impersonation of his accent.

“Oh dear. Is that how I sound when I do your accent?” I nodded. “I guess we should stop doing that then.”

We went to cross a road, but Oliver held me back even though no cars were coming. “What is it?” I asked. 

“Huh? Oh, nothing.” 

We crossed the road and kept walking, but Oliver kept looking over his shoulder the entire way home. 

Tonight had a lot of similarities with the events of eight years ago, but this one was the most eerie of them all. That night, Oliver had seen something and suddenly disappeared. He’d been spooked and made some excuse about going to a party. 

He had that look on his face again, and now I just wanted to get home as soon as possible. If something out there had Oliver worried, then there was a good chance it was something I should take seriously.

It couldn’t be him. I must be imagining things. I hadn’t seen that man in eight years. But it
was
him. Even with just the glow of streetlights to go by, there had been no mistaking that face. He hadn’t changed much in the last eight years, other than a slightly more modern haircut.

Just two hundred yards behind Michelle and I, was Carl’s second henchman. The one who had pulled me off Carl and laughed as I ran to try and help Michelle and Maisie. I never knew his name, but I’d seen him around Carl a few times before.

Chief Superintendent Hodgson told me she’d got them all, but she’d missed one. Now that man was following us home. He knew I’d seen him, so he just casually walked behind, waiting for me to leave Michelle and go talk to him.

There was no way I was letting Michelle out of my sight until she was safely indoors. Not after what happened eight years ago.  

If this man was out on the loose, did that mean there were others? He’d only been one of the bodyguards. The bullies. He certainly wasn’t the brains behind the operation. You could tell that just by looking at him.

As soon as Michelle was indoors, I made an excuse about going back outside to get something from the car. I ran down the drive and found the man there waiting for me.  

“Evening,” he said in greeting. “I’m not sure we were ever formally introduced. My name’s Dave.”  

The man held out his hand as if he seriously expected me to shake it. I just stared at him in response. In the end he lowered his hand and laughed.  

Dave had an American accent, although I couldn’t place what particular part of the country it came from. I shouldn’t have been surprised; Winston was American. If the dirty cop was involved in this—as I was beginning to suspect—then it only made sense that he had other Americans working with him.

“Why are you following me?” I asked. “You’d better have a damn good explanation, because I’ve already called the police. They’ll be here in minutes.”

“If the police were a problem, I’d have been arrested eight years ago along with the others.”

“Why weren’t you?”

The man shrugged. “Let’s just say I have friends in high places.”

Winston. Maybe he let Carl and Wayne take the blame, while continuing his little operation with Dave.  

“Any chance you’ve turned your life around and are now helping little old ladies cross the street?”

“Only if someone’s made a bet on them making it across,” Dave replied. “I’m still working the same trade. Gotta put money on the table.”

“Your boss said something similar to me once. Now he’s locked up, largely thanks to evidence that I provided.”

“No. No, my boss is still free.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think? Carl, got locked up, but Carl was never my boss. He was more of a middle manager. I work directly for the big boss, and that big boss wants a word with you.”  

These bloody gangs were like hydras; you chop off one head and another quickly grows in its place. It was a miracle they survived the police investigation in 2007, but if they’d been going strong since then, the group could now be very powerful indeed.