I smiled. ‘You can drop the hard-man act, no one’s watching’ I said.
‘You’re fucked in the head. Look at the state of your face. You need to have a word with yourself.’
I pushed him down the nearest alley. I’d had enough. ‘Just shut your mouth and behave’ I said. I wasn’t taking a lecture from him. Shrinking back against the wall, he looked like a cornered animal. ‘What happened in the pub?’ I asked him.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I tried to speak to you.’
He shrugged. ‘So what?’
‘We said we’d help each other.’
‘Things change.’
‘The fire?’
‘What do you fucking think? You set these people on us and then expect us to play along with your stupid game?’
I stepped away, leaned on the opposite wall, trying to show him I wasn’t a threat. I didn’t want to get involved in a fight with him.
‘I don’t need your help’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of myself. I always said you were a cunt, thinking you were the big shot when we played rugby. Fucking hated you, I did.’
I ignored his comments. Pressed on. ‘What do you know about the fire?’
‘It was your friends, dickhead. The ones from London. They came to the pub, straight up the stairs and told me they wanted their money. I told them I didn’t have it, like I keep having to fucking say to people. The one in charge said he didn’t believe me and told me if I didn’t get him his cash within the hour, I’d be hearing from him.’
‘So they set your flat on fire?’
‘Bit of a coincidence otherwise, wouldn’t you say?’
‘They were outside my place earlier.’
‘You expect me to care?’
Probably not. ‘Have you heard from them since?’
‘Nothing.’
‘They’re going to come back for you.’
He nodded. ‘I know.’
‘You can’t beat them by yourself.’
‘Want to bet?’
He smiled. I needed him more than he needed me. This was his territory. Everything was set up to his advantage. Max Fitzjohn wouldn’t pull the same trick again. But I had nowhere to hide. I had no backup. He walked away. I shouted after him. ‘They’ll come back for you.’ He didn’t stop or turn around.
I sat in my car, staring out the window, the radio turned off. I couldn’t even remember the rugby properly. I was a teenager, full of hope and too much self-confidence. At that stage, it had been my life. Everything had been about the game. I was going to be the star man for my team, Hull Kingston Rovers. What I hadn’t seen coming was the injury after a handful of first team games. It set me on a downward spiral, and in truth, it had taken me a long time to get over it. I watched the shoppers shuffling by, like they had no wish to be here, either. We’d all wanted something better from life, I thought.
Julia called me. A rival newspaper had printed a story about the rehearsal room fight between Tasker and Priestley. Shit. I thought it had been kept in-house. She’d set up a meeting with the guy who owned the rehearsal room. She wasn’t getting the exclusive, but he still might have something useful for us. I didn’t mention that Priestley had already told me about the incident when I’d met him at Paull. I drove away from the estate. Bilton wasn’t going to be any further help. He’d made his decision.
I drove down Ferensway and collected Julia from the theatre, headed to Bankside. We walked into the reception area and found the man we wanted stood at the photocopier. Julia introduced me to David Brabin, the owner. He hadn’t been present when I’d initially spoken to Priestley here. It seemed so long ago now. He stared at my face before taking us into the office. There was only one chair free once he’d sat down. I stayed on my feet.
‘This is my kingdom’ he said, smiling at us. ‘It’s not much, but I like it.’
I looked around. ‘It’s intimate’ I said.
‘There’s only two rooms and it’s basic, but what more do bands need? It keeps my hand in. I use it for my own band. We play covers, The Jam, The Clash, that kind of thing. It’s good fun and keeps me from getting under the wife’s feet.’ He laughed. ‘I’m one of those who never made it, I’m afraid. I’ve been in plenty of bands, but never a sniff of a deal. It’s the way it goes sometimes, but I’m happy.’
‘You said you knew New Holland’ I said, cutting him off.
‘That’s why they’ve been using my place’ he said. ‘They needed somewhere discreet where they wouldn’t be bothered, and seeing as we go back years, they gave me a call.’
‘Who called you?’ I asked.
‘Kane Major.’
There was something in his voice. ‘You don’t like him?’
‘He said he’d pay me cash up front for the room, but I never saw it.’ He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter now, obviously. I was just pleased to hear from them. I did loads of gigs with them around the city when they first started. I got my band together around the same time, so we sort of hung around together, playing gigs at the Adelphi and Blue Lamp, all the usual places. We even borrowed their drummer to help us record a demo tape once.’ He smiled at us, enjoying the chance to reminisce. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard they were making a comeback. I keep telling my girls I know them, but they don’t believe me. One’s ten, the other’s twelve, so they probably don’t care. It’s hardly cool stuff to them, I suppose.’
I interrupted. ‘You rang the newspaper?’ Julia shot me a look. I didn’t care. I needed to move things on.
He held his hands up. ‘I have no loyalties either way. I want to say that before I say anything else. Having New Holland here was great. It reminded me of my younger days, but ultimately it’s a business I’m running.’ He shuffled forward in his seat, clasped his hands together. ‘I’ve obviously been following the news and frankly I don’t like the way Steve’s being portrayed by you lot. The media are painting him as the bad boy of the group and I wanted to tell you that’s not how it was. Steve was never unpleasant or rude, or anything like that. Not back then and certainly not now. That’s just not Steve’s way with people.’
I walked around the room so I didn’t stiffen up. It was small and there was no natural light. There was something he wasn’t saying. I wanted him to spit it out. ‘Why did you call, Mr Brabin?’
I watched him as he weighed the question up.
‘Like I said, I have no loyalties here, right?’
‘Right.’
‘I read about the fight in the newspaper. I saw it and it wasn’t how it happened.’
I could see Julia reaching for her notepad. It wasn’t how we should play it. I touched her on the shoulder, letting her know she should stop. She understood. I asked him what he knew.
‘Steve isn’t an aggressive man. He never has been. I know the newspaper said he started the fight, but it isn’t true. I was watching them from the doorway. I wanted to hear them play, you know? I’m just a fan at the end of the day.’
I leaned in closer to him. ‘What did you see?’
‘It wasn’t Steve who started the fight. Not at all. It was Greg who had the problem, not Steve. Greg was the one being aggressive.’
We drove back into the city and headed into the bar of Julia’s hotel. I slumped into a comfy chair. Julia ordered us coffee.
‘Major sold the newspaper the story’ I said. It was the only explanation.
‘I’ll ask around.’
I nodded. ‘Good idea’ I said, although I was in no doubt it was Major who’d pulled the strings on the story.
‘Why would he lie?’ she said. ‘Why would he want to make out Priestley was the aggressor?’
‘Loyalty to Greg?’ It was the best theory I had, but it didn’t really explain it. Or what the argument had been about, though I had a good idea. ‘I spoke to Trevor Bilton earlier’ I said.
‘How did you track him down?’
‘He’s a man of habit. He wasn’t best pleased to see me.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He’s going it alone. He doesn’t want my help.’
Julia considered it. ‘He might have the brawn, but he hasn’t got the brain.’
‘His attitude is that if he keeps telling Fitzjohn he hasn’t got the money, he’ll eventually get the message.’ I paused and shook my head. ‘But people like Fitzjohn don’t get the message, do they?’
‘It’s daft, but I can’t help worrying about him.’ She stood up and walked to the window. ‘Despite what he and Gary did to me.’
It was irrational, but it also made sense to me. ‘I understand’ I said. Sometimes your head says one thing, but your heart another, however stupid it seems.
‘Do you believe him?’ she asked me.
I grunted a non-committal reply. I found it hard to believe he was telling me the truth about anything. Anyone could have thrown the punch which killed Tasker. Julia’s mobile sounded again. She said she needed to go to her room and file a story. I waved her off, sat there and rubbed my face. Things were getting worse. But the clock was ticking.
The door to the office was unlocked. This was the last thing I needed. I stopped and tried to recall. I’d definitely locked it this time. There was no sign of anyone hanging around outside. I pushed the door open quietly and took my time walking up the stairs. The office door was also open. If it was Fitzjohn, I wasn’t going to tip-toe in. I needed the element of surprise on my side. I picked up speed and walked in.
Don sat in his usual position. ‘You should change the locks’ he said to me.
My heartbeat started to slow down. ‘Why didn’t you say you were coming back?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
‘You should have called. I’d have picked you up from the airport.’
‘I’m sure you’re far too busy for that.’ He pointed to my face. ‘Want to tell me what happened?’
I sat down at my desk and shook my head. ‘Shouldn’t you be enjoying the sun in Spain?’
‘I think I’ve got more important things to sort here.’ He put the file he was looking at back down. ‘Why haven’t you changed the locks?’ he asked me.
‘Not had the time.’
Don nodded. ‘So I hear.’
‘How’s Sarah?’
‘Enjoying the break.’
‘Lauren?’
‘Loves it. Swimming and the beach. What’s not to like?’
‘Pleased to hear it.’
We lapsed into silence. I wondered how much he really knew about Max Fitzjohn and what had been going on. So long as Sarah was in Spain, I wasn’t going to enlighten him. There was nothing to be gained by it.
‘Sorted things out yet?’ Don said to me.
‘Getting there.’
Don said nothing.
I sat up. ‘What do you expect? I’m here by myself, doing my best. It’s just me. There’s no one else.’
Don stared at me. ‘Are you saying Sarah should be here helping you sort this mess out?’
‘She’s a grown woman, Don. She can make her own decisions.’ I don’t know why I was being argumentative. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want her in danger any more than he did.
‘She’s not stupid’ Don said. ‘And you were given fair warning. This wasn’t what I wanted for us all.’
I knew he’d always harboured thoughts about me and Sarah getting together, making a go of things. I doubted he was so keen now. ‘I need your help to finish things’ I said.
Don held my stare. Nodded. ‘All I’ve ever wanted is the best for her. It was tough losing her mother, but I made her a promise, and I’m going to keep it.’
I understood, knew Don had always been protective. I didn’t blame him.
‘There’s a price attached’ he said.
You meet a new girl and decide to move back to Hull. You need to get away from London and all its distractions. There’s absolutely nothing to stay there for. Kane’s too busy with new projects. You need to live a cleaner life. You decide to open a studio. Music is all you know. When it’s not in use, you record a solo album. You know it’s your best work. You’re proud of it. The music press dismiss it. You’re nobody to them. You pretend their response means nothing to you. But it does. You tour the record. It’s back to the towns and cities you’ve been to countless times before. The same old tired circuit. Except this time the venues and crowds are smaller. You feel naked on stage. There’s nothing to hide behind. You don’t enjoy it. It’s not you anymore. You decide to quit making music and concentrate on the studio. At first, you find it a distraction, but it quickly becomes monotonous. You take a back seat and let your engineers take charge. You brood. What hurts you the most is that Priestley never called. Not once.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I didn’t
want to sit still and reflect on what Don had said. It wouldn’t do me any good. I drove out of Hull, heading towards Priestley’s farm. It was quiet. I couldn’t see his wife’s car. Certainly no sign of the media. They must have had their pound of flesh from him for now. Closing the car door behind me, I heard a dog bark. I knocked on the front door. Nobody answered. I tried the door. Unlocked. I walked in. Technically, I was probably breaking the law, but I’d done worse. Much worse. I walked into the front room. Priestley was lying on the settee. I crouched down, ready to check for a pulse.
‘I’m awake’ he said. ‘I can see you.’
I stood back up. ‘Do you always leave your front door open?’
‘Carly’s gone to the shops. She’ll be back soon.’
‘Do you want anything?’ I said.
He struggled to sit up. ‘I’m alright’ he said, looking at my face. ‘What happened to you?’
I sat down opposite him and told him it was nothing. ‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth about the argument in the rehearsal room?’ He’d told me he’d argued with Tasker over song choice for the secret warm-up gig.
‘What good would it have done?’ he said.
‘It would have been the truth.’
Priestley laughed. ‘Wouldn’t have made any difference, would it?’
I didn’t have an answer for him. I’d thought about it as I’d headed to his farm, but I hadn’t made any progress. It struck me New Holland had given him both the best and the worst times in his life. And I’d played my part in bringing back the worst times.
‘I didn’t expect Major to put the story out there, certainly not like that’ he said. ‘Don’t they say in football circles that what goes on in the changing room stays in the changing room? He should learn the lesson.’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’
‘Because it’s my business. Not yours.’