Читать книгу Three Steps Behind You - Amy Bird - Страница 29

Chapter 17

Reaching Adam does not take long. Rather, reaching his office. Reaching him is a different matter.

It’s just a matter of a simple train journey from West Hampstead to Farringdon. We always used to get the train together, Adam and I, so it’s odd to be taking it alone. When I say together, I allow for the fact we were in separate carriages. We had a little ritual, after we were released. Adam’s parents sent both of us to college to get our A-levels. Different colleges, but the same train-line went to both, if you made a few changes. I made a few changes. First of all, I had to get the train to Staines. It wasn’t that far from Uxbridge, where Adam’s parents had rented me a flat. I could have used my inheritance then, to rent it, but they said they felt in loco parentis, that they’d let me down. Being in loco parentis didn’t mean they treated Adam and I as brothers. We were to be separated. Luckily, I fought back for the both of us. Every morning, I made sure we boarded the same train. Every evening, after Adam came out of his college full of maths and economics, I would walk to the station with him (well, behind him). My bag had business administration in it but my brain didn’t. My brain was full of Adam. On the last day of college, after exams, Adam dropped back to talk to me. It was nice to hear him talk about how well he’d done. He sounded so clever, so self-assured. We sat next to each other on the train and he told me more about it. I asked if he wanted to come back to my flat. He couldn’t. He had a date. He got off the train two stops early. I stayed on.

From Farringdon, I take the Tube to Liverpool Street. People in dark suits zap around holding document cases. I do not exist to them; I have to stand aside in the street to let them past otherwise we would just collide, and I would have to apologise. I try to be how Luke must be – imagine the suited swagger, battering people out of the way with his broad chest. I make an attempt but I don’t have the armour, so I am knocked off the pavement into the gutter. Nicole is close behind me, I know without looking. The red ties and poppies that people are wearing remind me. Nicole and I are like the poppy really – I am that deep black circular centre, and she is the red, constantly surrounding me, but flimsy. I could tear her away in an instant. But Luke in all his greenery is our stem, uniting us. Pinned to Adam until he chooses to cast us off.

Adam’s building is like a granite spaceship. I step on an escalator at street level, and am carried up and up through dazzling black and glass, until I reach reception. They won’t let me past the security barriers without an appointment, so I phone Adam and try to make one. His mobile is off. I sit down on a cream leather sofa next to the barriers and consider my next move. As I do so, I see one of the side gates open, and a man comes out, depositing a pass on the counter. The gate is still open. The receptionists are busy with new visitors. I could slide through it, if I go now, now NOW!

And I’m in.

But I don’t know where Adam is to be found. I walk to what I think are lifts, but there are no buttons to press, just a small digital display on the granite pillars between each one. I stand staring at them. A suited man appears beside me.

‘Infra-red,’ he says, holding his pass to one of the displays. ‘Visitor?’ he asks.

‘Yes,’ I say.

There is the sound of an ocean. I can’t think why and then I see the man go into the lift. I was expecting a ‘ping’ but apparently here tsunamis announce ascension. I get into the lift with him.

‘Which floor?’ he asks.

‘Banking,’ I say.

He stares at me. I try to remember more detail about where Adam works, and my brain delivers a name. The suited man nods.

‘Me, too,’ he says, waving his pass at another digital – or is it infra-red? – display. The lift starts to carry us up. ‘Who are you here to see?’

‘Adam,’ I say. The man waits expectantly. Apparently there is more than one Adam. ‘Lomax,’ I add.

The man nods and the lift door opens. I wonder if that is his party trick.

I follow him through to another reception. Women with red neck scarves sit behind a shiny white curve, blocking my way.

‘Good meeting, Mr Shipley?’ asks one of the women.

‘Nothing to the pleasure of seeing you,’ Mr Shipley replies.

The woman smiles and blushes lobster-red to match her scarf. I wonder how many times a day she has to do that, whether it’s stipulated in the job description.

Mr Shipley does a sideways head movement in my direction.

‘He’s here to see Adam Lomax,’ says Mr Shipley.

The women notice me for the first time.

‘Take a seat, sir,’ one of them says, dismissing me. ‘He’ll be right with you.’

I sit down on another white leather sofa and wait. Beyond the receptionists is a city of glass. Glass rooms interconnect with other glass rooms through glass corridors. Everyone can see everyone – but they can’t touch them. Inside their little glass boxes, they strut around, men standing, women sitting. Imprisoned, in their own way. I spot Adam in one of the closer rooms. I see him talking but there is no one in the room with him. Then I see a blue glow emanating from his face. Bluetooth. Or digital. Or infra-red. Nothing physical. Adam looks up in my direction, and he nods to me. I nod back. He doesn’t come out, though. I can see him, can communicate with him, but I still cannot get close.

Finally, Adam walks out of the room, through the glass maze, and opens a glass door into the reception area. His poppy sits on his jacket lapel, pretending it is an innocent icon. He winks at the receptionists as they walk past. This time they’re not just blushing because it says they must in their job description. They must think he’s flirting, but he’s not. Or rather, he is, but it’s not sexual. He flirts with everyone, makes them feel loved, gives them a promise of sharing with him. It’s up to him whether he delivers. With me, he doesn’t need the routine – I know what we mean to each other.

‘What brings you here, mate?’ he asks, shaking my hand because we are in business world. The additional touch on the elbow is a concession to our friendship.

‘They mentioned Feltham,’ I say.

‘Shh!’ Adam looks over his shoulder at the receptionist. ‘Not here,’ he whispers, turning back to me.

‘I thought everyone here knew?’ I ask.

‘Not everyone,’ he says. ‘Come with me, we’ll go somewhere private.’

He leads me through the glass labyrinth and I wonder how we can possibly be private with everyone watching us. He takes me back into the room he was in earlier, when I arrived.

‘Soundproof,’ he says

I wonder if they are also bullet proof – I imagine one shot being fired and shattering all the offices into tiny shards, people and rooms fragmenting.

‘Who mentioned Feltham?’ asks Adam. ‘HR or the police?’

He knew, then, that the police were coming?

‘HR weren’t there,’ I say. ‘It was my colleague, Prakesh. Why would the police be there?’

Adam shrugs. There is a little bit of sweat on his forehead. He takes off his jacket, so that the poppy is no longer next to his heart. I would like to pin it to his shirt, let the pin graze his naked skin, but I resist.

‘So why did Prakesh mention it?’ Adam asks.

‘Previous conduct,’ I say.

‘Did you indecently assault anyone at work?’ he asks.

‘No,’ I say. ‘Not at work.’

Adam looks at me.

‘No,’ I say again, more conclusively.

‘So it’s not relevant,’ he says. ‘And besides, it’s a spent conviction.’

I nod. ‘That’s what I told them.’

Adam flicks through some paperwork on his desk.

‘So, what else did you talk about?’ he asks, studying a bit of paper.

‘Jeremy Bond.’

Adam looks up at that.

‘What about him?’

‘Loaning cars to him without proper paperwork, who he was, all that kind of stuff.’

‘You didn’t tell them anything?’

‘No,’ I say.

Adam takes a breath. ‘Good,’ he says.

It’s nice of him, always to be so concerned about me.

He goes back to looking at his papers.

‘They’re keeping an eye on me, the police,’ I say. ‘They were at Narcissus Road. I think Nicole called them.’

Adam frowns.

‘About last night? She said she wouldn’t.’

I shake my head. ‘About Helen.’

Adam stands up and thumps the table. The people in the glass boxes nearby look up. He sits down again.

‘Mate, you’ve got it wrong. Why would Nic do that?’

‘Are you saying I’m paranoid?’

He doesn’t answer. I think about the red that followed me on the train. There was no way that could be paranoia.

‘She’s outside now, if you want,’ I say.

‘What? Where?’ asks Adam, looking around.

‘You won’t be able to see her,’ I warn him. ‘She’s hiding. Biding her time.’

‘Right.’ He nods. There is a pause. He does, he thinks I’m paranoid. ‘Well, I won’t disturb her now, but I’ll talk to her. Tell you what – we’ll go out to dinner, all three of us, start over. Lobster and champagne – our treat.’

‘Do you need me to do the kill?’ I ask.

He looks at me blankly.

‘The lobster,’ I say. ‘Do you want me to kill it for you?’

Adam laughs. ‘No, mate – the chef does that for you. Lobster halves, all nicely cut up, bit of mayo.’

‘Oh,’ I say. I thought I could have been of use. ‘I’ll get a suit.’

‘No need to dress up, mate, it’s just us.’

‘With the money,’ I say. ‘They offered me a settlement agreement.’

‘I’ll have my lawyer look over it,’ Adam offers.

‘One of those nice suits, in Moss Bross.’

‘You don’t want a suit, mate. Have one of my old ones – you’ll have to lose that gut though.’ He slaps my stomach. His hand pauses there. ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Seems you already have.’

‘I’ve been running,’ I say. ‘You can see if you like.’ I start to untuck my polo shirt under his hand.

He jerks his hand away.

‘You’re in a glass box, mate – not the time to show off your abs!’

I nod.

‘Maybe later,’ he says. ‘Show them off to me and Nic.’ He winks at me. I am beyond blushing. Instead, I think about how we can have a best torso competition. The loser has to eat lobster off the abs of the winner.

‘Anyway, mate, you don’t spend your cash on a suit,’ Adam tells me. ‘Live a little. Get something that makes your heart race.’

I wonder if he knows what he’s inviting.