The Half Truth (8 page)

For the first time in several weeks, Tina felt relaxed going up to bed. It was reassuring having John in the house. Much as she hated to admit it, things had started getting to her. She had always prided herself on being able to cope on her own. But having John there tonight, in the house, gave her a sense that she wasn’t alone in this world. At night times the loneliness and grief of not having her husband haunted her the most. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cope alone, it was simply that she didn’t want to be alone. She hadn’t chosen to be a single mother, a working woman, juggling motherhood with day care and work life. It had been enforced on her and whilst some women extolled the virtues and revelled in the freedom this brought them, most of the time they had chosen that life. She hadn’t. She hadn’t chosen to be alone.

Thoughts of Sasha pushed their way to the fore. Not for the first time in the past five years, she wondered what her life would be like if he was still with her. Probably not very different. Or maybe it would be. What if he was mixed up in whatever business Pavel had been mixed up in?

She made a conscious effort to consign these thoughts to the depth of her mind. Now wasn’t the time to go over it all. She stopped outside Dimitri’s door and poked her head round. The landing light seeped across his bedroom, casting a gentle haze of soft yellow into the room. She paused and listened to his rhythmic breathing. Calm and peaceful. Oblivious to the storms brewing in a life he had so many connections with, yet no connection at all.

A muffled bang brought Tina out of her thoughts. She stood still. Alert. Listening for it again. Silence. She pulled the door to Dimitri’s bedroom closed and stepped across the landing to her own. There was the noise again. Not an acute, sharp sound right by her, but close enough to break through the stillness of the night.

She realised it was coming from Mr Cooper’s. It must be that door again. She would have to get someone to have a look at the catch. The last thing she wanted was to be kept awake by the thud of the door every so often. She was unsettled enough as it was. She made a mental note to check the window in the room too. Maybe it had been left open and the draught was causing the door to bang. She had meant to do it before but had got distracted when her phone had rung.

As Tina crossed the landing and went into her bedroom, her feet bare, she felt something sharp dig into her big toe. She stifled a whimper as she inspected the carpet and stumbled, landing on her bed. She inspected her toe and picked out a small whitish piece of plaster, about the size of a garden pea.

The sound of footsteps, light but hurried, taking the stairs two at a time, made her turn towards the bedroom door. A small tap followed.

‘Tina? You okay?’

It was John. She got up and, avoiding the dust patch on the carpet, padded over to open the bedroom door.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said.

‘I heard you cry out and then a bang,’ he said, looking beyond her shoulder into the room.

‘I trod on something and stumbled. I’m fine, honest.’ She turned to look back at the offending dust pile. ‘Dimitri’s been leaving a trail of dust and dirt for me to clear up. He had an old cardboard box earlier.’

John followed her gaze. ‘Oh, sorry! A bit of overkill on my part.’

‘Possibly. I think I’ll be safe now. As far as I can see, no more booby traps for me to avoid.’

She met his look, suddenly very conscious of how close they were to each other.

‘Right. Okay.’ For the first time he didn’t sound so in control. He backed away a few steps. ‘I’ll … er … leave you to get some rest. Goodnight, Tina.’ He turned and she could hear him taking the stairs nearly as quickly as he had come up them.

She closed the bedroom door and sat down on her bed. What happened there? She wasn’t quite sure. In the briefest of moments an unspoken sense of mutual awareness had passed between them. A depth of awareness she hadn’t experienced for a long time.

Tina closed her eyes. So much was happening right now, maybe her senses were simply heightened, feeding her imagination.

John eyed Martin across the table of the café they had met in to discuss the Porboski case. He didn’t like what Martin was saying, but knew it had been coming. Martin leaned in closer.

‘Look, John, the bottom line is, if Pavel fails to turn up this weekend and we don’t get any further intel on where he is, then Brogan will be calling you back to HQ. He’s griping about man-hours on searching through CCTV and enquiries that are leading nowhere. At the moment, our only saving grace is that we have definite ID on our guests from Stockholm and that Baz Fisher is still missing.’

‘Where the hell could he have gone?’ said John.

‘No one is talking. It’s not looking good.’ Martin took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Apparently, there’s some movement on another case that Brogan wants to follow up and, as far as he’s concerned, he’s paying you to do nothing more than babysit,’

‘Bollocks,’ muttered John, his frustration simmering.

‘Brogan’s getting stick from above. The recent robberies on the post offices in the Hackney area is attracting attention. The local media has been full of it this week.’

‘The post office is well insured,’ said John. ‘Does Brogan want to tell that to Neil’s widow that despite reliable intel, we’re not going to bother too much about catching the killers?’

‘Listen, mate,’ said Martin. ‘This is me talking to you as a friend. Off the record.’

‘Why do I get the impression I’m not going to like what’s coming?’

Martin ignored John’s comment.

‘I know how much this case means to you. We all do. But, mate, this guilt that you carry around with you the whole time, it’s not doing you any favours. Some things you have to let go.’

‘And some things you can’t.’

‘You’re not responsible for what happened at the Moorgate robbery.’

John looked out of the window. Martin had no idea what he was talking about. This was a conversation John didn’t want to have. ‘Thanks for the advice, but let’s just drop it now.’

Martin let out a defeated sigh. ‘That counselling you had worked, then.’

It was John’s turn to ignore the remark. He rubbed at his scarred shoulder.

The counselling – it had been part of his rehabilitation back to work after the shooting. A condition that he had begrudgingly adhered to. He knew the game and played by the rules. He had made all the right comments, said all the right things. He hid his guilt. He hid his need for justice. It paid off and he had been declared fit to return to work, but he had never once lost sight of what he needed: atonement.

Tina sat on the edge of her bed to fasten the strap of her shoe. Black, strappy sandals to go with the black, strappy dress she had picked to wear for the work’s do. It was a simple shift dress with a few beads embroidered around the neckline to add a bit of sparkle. She hadn’t worn it for several years; it was sitting in the back of her wardrobe. She remembered the last time she had worn it, on a night out with Sasha. It was his birthday. It was the last birthday they were to spend together. Guilt brushed the back of her neck, sending a small shiver down her spine.

She took a deep breath, expelling the emotion. She didn’t want to feel guilty for going out or to feel guilty that John was accompanying her. She reminded herself that he was merely doing his job, keeping her safe in case Pavel turned up.

Tina poked the end of the strap through the buckle and stood up, facing herself in the mirror. The dress, if anything, was slightly baggy in places it probably hadn’t been baggy before. She didn’t possess a set of bathroom scales – she had never been one for weighing herself. Of a naturally slim build, she used the tightness of her clothes to determine whether she had gained or lost weight. The past five years had taken their toll on her and she had been aware at one point that her weight was plummeting, hitting rock bottom along with her grief. If it hadn’t been for Dimitri, his mere existence giving her strength to pick herself up, Tina wasn’t sure where she would be now. She had put the weight back on, but not to the comfortable size twelve she had previously been. These days a size ten gave her plenty of room, it wasn’t a great look for someone so tall, but she usually managed to get away with loose-fitting clothes to disguise the bony skeleton underneath.

However, she had felt in the last 18 months or so she was getting something of a figure back, but the last few weeks her nervous energy seemed to be having an adverse effect.

When she had dropped Dimitri off at her parents’ house that evening, her mum had commented on her appearance.

‘Is everything all right, darling?’ said Pam. ‘Only I noticed during the last week or so you were looking very tired and a bit drawn and sallow.’

Tina had laughed it off. ‘Oh, mum, you know how to make a girl feel good about herself, especially when she’s just off on a night out.’

Tina had kissed her mum and told her not to worry, that everything was fine. It was probably due to being busy at work. She wasn’t sure her mother had been convinced, but the older woman had said no more of it. The last thing Tina wanted was for her mum to start worrying about her. Any mention of Pavel was strictly off the agenda. Her parents had been most disgusted that none of the Bolotnikov family had kept in touch with Tina after the death of their son-in-law and were even more anti the Russian contingent once they learned that Tina was pregnant. No, mentioning Pavel would certainly be a bad move.

Tina squirted a dash of perfume on her wrists and rubbed them together before gathering her small shoulder bag and going downstairs.

John was waiting in the living room. As she walked in, Tina was aware she had taken a large and loud intake of breath. She was also aware John had done the exact same thing. They looked at each other and laughed.

‘Well, don’t you scrub up well?’ she said casting an approving eye over his grey chinos and pale-blue shirt.

‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ he replied. He looked down at himself. ‘I hope it’s okay, only I haven’t got a great selection with me in my travelling wardrobe.’

Tina looked over at his holdall on the sofa. ‘I think you’ve done very well, considering.’

John held out his arm. ‘Shall we?’

Tina hooked her arm through his. ‘Yes, let’s.’

The birthday party was a bit starchy at first and after thirty minutes of circulating amongst other guests and explaining that John was ‘just a friend’, Tina was regretting her decision to invite him along. Fay had bailed out at the last moment, citing a headache. Tina wished she had had the foresight to do the same.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said after her boss’ sister had subjected her to a particularly long interrogation. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Jessica came back with her clipboard and a whole survey for you to complete.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said John.

‘Although, I must compliment you on your new identity,’ said Tina. ‘You’ve got a great imagination. I mean, who would have thought I’d be bringing along John, an accountant from London who I met through a friend at a party. That’s John who also has his own pad in Fulham and left school and worked his way up through the firm of accountants. It’s like you’re a professional at this. The original hustler.’

John shrugged and grinned, but didn’t mask the uncomfortable look that lingered behind his eyes. A moment of awkward silence sliced between them before John spoke. ‘I had to come up with something. It was the first thing that came to mind.’

‘And how much of that was the truth and how much fabrication?’ said Tina. She injected a light-hearted tone to her voice. John was, no doubt, just uncomfortable having to lie about himself to her boss and his wife. After all, he was a policeman, so it wasn’t in his nature to tell lies.

‘About fifty-fifty,’ said John. ‘I was basing it on my cousin, who does happen to be an accountant. As for your friend …’

‘Boss’ sister,’ interrupted Tina. ‘Let’s get that bit straight, Jessica is by no means my friend.’

‘Okay, Jessica – she could work for the intelligence service with the sort of grilling she was giving me. It’s a wonder MI5 haven’t signed her up by now.’

‘Oooh, I like this sort of conspiracy story. We could invent a whole new life for Jessica. She could actually be part of the secret service,’ said Tina, enjoying the banter between them. ‘Her job as manager’s secretary at the bank may just be one big cover-up. She could be working deep undercover to penetrate a money-laundering ring that she suspects certain members of staff to be involved in.’

‘Now who has the overactive imagination?’ John laughed and shook his head.

As her own words, flippantly spoken, sunk in, Tina’s mood dropped. ‘Sorry, that joke was in bad taste in light of the whole Pavel thing.’

‘Hey, don’t worry about it,’ said John. He put his arm around her shoulders and gave a quick squeeze. ‘Come on, you’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.’

‘Enjoying might be pushing it.’ Tina looked around at the groups of guests mingling and chatting. ‘Hopefully it won’t be too long before they do the birthday cake and then we can go.’

‘It’s entirely up to you,’ said John. ‘You don’t have to leave on my account.’

‘Believe me, I’m leaving as much for my own benefit as for yours,’ said Tina. ‘And that’s very good what you did there!’

‘Sorry?’

‘Leave on my account. You being the accountant.’

John groaned.

She gave him a playful tap on the arm.
‘Come on, let’s sneak out now. No one will notice we’re not here. Not even Miss Money-Penny.’

Tina suppressed her giggles as they made their way as casually as possible around the room and in the general direction of the exit.

‘I’ll go first,’ said John. ‘You follow in a couple of minutes. I’ll wait outside.’

‘Copy that, Alpha One,’ said Tina, pressing an imaginary hearing device into her ear and then lifting her other arm to speak into her watch.

‘Now who’s the MI5 agent?’ said John, amusement clear in his voice. He rested his hands on her shoulders as he moved behind her, pausing to whisper in her ear. ‘Rendezvous T minus ninety seconds.’

Tina brought her wine glass up to her mouth to hide her grin. Looking over its rim she watched John casually leave the room, one hand in his trouser pocket the other cupping his mobile phone to his ear, as if in deep conversation. He glanced back her way as he reached the door and winked, before disappearing out of the room.

Tina looked around the room and could see through the crowd that Jessica was heading her way. Tina avoided eye contact and, forcing herself not to break into a run, wove her way to the exit.

She bowled out of the main doors and, hooking John through the arm, didn’t break stride as she took him along with her. ‘Walk. Quickly.’

John didn’t hesitate as he fell into step with her. ‘I take it our cover is blown,’ he said.

‘I think the enemy had me in their sights but, if we’re lucky, we can avoid engaging further with them.’

They turned the corner of the building and then, breaking into a gentle run, John took her hand and they trotted across the road towards the car park. John blipped the car open and Tina jumped into the passenger seat as John climbed into the driver’s side.

‘I think we made it,’ said John.

Tina looked over at him and once again found herself laughing. John’s own laughter was spontaneous and almost instant. The sounds reverberated around the confined space of the vehicle. It was a moment or two before Tina realised that John was silent and she was laughing alone. Still chuckling she met his gaze, his eyes held hers firm. The intensity of his look silenced her, the jovial atmosphere disappeared.

As far as Tina was concerned the world around her ceased to exist. She moved her head towards him and, in turn, John closed the gap between them. His lips met hers and she kissed him. He moved slightly away, but only for a second before returning her kiss.

Tina could barely keep her breathing under control as their kiss became deeper. It felt strange kissing someone after so long. Yet kissing John didn’t give her the same sense of awkwardness as it had the last time a man had kissed her.

It felt strange and new, but it didn’t fill her with fear. A hint of guilt tried to make its presence known, but she made a conscious effort to ignore it and concentrate on the here and now. Sasha was her past. A stranger in her world of the present. John, on the other hand, was very much of the now and certainly her immediate future.

John’s hands cupped her face and he moved back from their embrace. He sat back in his seat. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t plan that. It just sort of happened.’

‘What are you apologising for?’ said Tina, not moving from the edge of seat. ‘I think it was me who kissed you. Perhaps it should be me apologising.’

John put his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead through the windscreen and into the blackness of the night. As if deciding on something, he let out a long sigh and then turned the key in the ignition, sparking the engine into life.

Tina settled back in her seat, pulling the safety belt across her and clicking it into place. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She knew she wasn’t sorry at all. In fact, she had enjoyed kissing him and, truth be told, she would be quite happy to continue.

‘We’ve done nothing wrong,’ she said, as they pulled up outside her house. ‘But if you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine, you simply have to say and I won’t make any more of a fool of myself than I already have.’

‘You haven’t made a fool of yourself at all,’ said John. He opened his door and got out of the car. Tina tracked him as he walked around the front of the car and come round to her side, opening the passenger door. He held out his hand and Tina accepted the gesture. Neither let go as they walked up to the front door.

John helped Tina with her coat, laying it over the bannister along with his.

Tina stood in the hallway, facing him. What now? Where did they go from here? John didn’t seem to be in a hurry to distance himself. He wasn’t rushing through to the kitchen offering to make coffee to defuse the situation and wasn’t making his excuses and heading for a night on the sofa either.

He was waiting for her. It was her call.

If she was going to back out, now was the time to do it. Tina rested the palm of her hand on his chest, her index finger touching the top of his shirt button. Was she ready to do this? Kissing another man since Sasha had died had been an awkward experience, but kissing John had been the opposite. He had stirred a passion deep within her that she thought she would never reach again. Her body was clearly telling her it was ready.

John placed his hand over hers and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her fingertips.

‘You decide,’ he said. ‘No pressure from me.’

His soft voice embraced her thoughts. His tenderness caressed her senses.

She thought of her mother, telling her to allow herself to live again. She thought of Sasha and how much she had lived with him and for him. She never thought she would want anyone again, but tonight she realised she was wrong.

‘I’ve not … since Sasha …’ she stumbled over her words. Was she ready mentally to be intimate with another man? She felt her earlier bravado and eagerness waiver. What if she didn’t know how to make love any more? It had been so long.

‘It’s okay. I understand,’ said John, sliding his free hand under her hair at the nape of her neck. His thumb stroked her skin. ‘We’ll take our time.’ He kissed her. ‘Let me show you. Trust me.’

She gave one last thought to Sasha. A love of another life. A life she had lost. She had lost too much. She didn’t want to lose again.