The landlord seemed satisfied with that, and the brawlers were made to leave, separately. Mike turned back once to look at Rachael. She couldn’t even face him.
Steph had disappeared it seemed, then Rachael spotted her over the other side of the pub where people were still rubbernecking. Eventually, she returned to her friend.
“I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.” Rachael felt like hiding under the table.
“Hey, I’ve never had two men fighting over me. Don’t knock it ... By the way, his name’s Tom.”
Rachael was thrown by this. “Who?”
“The hunk in the denim over there,” Steph explained.
“I really can’t believe you!”
“Hey, what did I do?”
Rachael didn’t answer her. She just downed the vodka and coke, finally, then slammed her glass on the table. “I’ll tell you what you can do. Get me another drink, and this time ...”
“What?”
“This time make it a double.”
CHAPTER FOUR
They emerged from the bar at gone midnight, long after most of the other patrons had left, holding each other up for support.
“Either ... either there’s something wrong with my eyes,” said Steph, “or I’ve forgotten my glasses.”
Rachael hiccupped. “You ... you don’t wear glasses.”
“Oh yeah!” Steph guffawed. “Must be the world that’s blurry.” She took out her mirror and applied more make-up. Rachael shook her head, not really seeing the point. Then Steph got out her mobile phone. “This ... this is why you need to carry one, Rach. In case ... in case of emergencies.”
Rachael watched her companion trying to reach a taxi service. After several attempts, she gave up. “Can’t get a signal from here.”
Rachael hiccupped again. “See? Useless!”
“One ... one of these days you’re ... you’re going to be glad of one of these ... Come on.”
Steph linked her arm in Rachael’s, and as they were about to walk up the street towards the Holy Grail of phone signals, Rachael suddenly turned.
“What?” asked Steph, having trouble remaining upright.
Rachael stared up the dimly-lit street. She had the funniest feeling someone was watching her.
“What is it?” asked Steph, impatient.
Rachael shook her head. “Nothing.” Her hiccups were gone. “Let’s go and order that taxi.”
But as they stumbled up the road, Rachael couldn’t help looking over her shoulder one last time with a worried expression on her face.
* * *
That could have gone better, he mused to himself.
Still, as introductions went, he’d had worse. At least he’d gained some information, so all was not entirely lost. If that idiot hadn’t shown up and ruined things, he might not have needed to plan this next step at all. Might have been over and done with by now, ditched the friend and gone back to her place. But where would the fun be in that? Plus, he’d have to leave this city immediately—taking on yet another persona. Too many people had seen him tonight, too many unanswered questions would surround her death.
Better to blend into the background for now, to play the game. Then the rewards would be that much greater. He could wait, watch and wait—just not that long.
Tomorrow was another day. And she wasn’t going anywhere—after all that effort to find her today, she’d fucking better not be!
No, she was his for the taking. He smiled at that.
His for the taking at last.
CHAPTER FIVE
The ringing woke her up.
Not all at once, just bits of her. She experimentally moved her head—though not too much as she feared it might come off her shoulders and roll across the bed. Rachael couldn’t work out at first whether the ringing was coming from inside or outside her skull. Then she realised it was the phone out there in the living room; she’d forgotten to close her bedroom door, which usually did a good job of blocking out the noise if she wanted it to.
Groaning, she clambered from the bed—still wearing her clothes from last night, she noted—and half-crawled, half staggered to the phone, which she finally answered, if only to shut the blasted thing up.
“Rachael?” said a voice.
“Who ... who is this?” she spluttered. Her mouth felt like something had crawled into it and died. Then decomposed rapidly.
“What do you mean ‘who is this’? It’s your mother! And I’ve rung twice already today.”
“Mum? Mum, can you keep your voice down a bit—I’m feeling kind of fragile this morning.”
“Morning? Better check your watch, Rachael.”
She looked down at her wrist but couldn’t focus, then stared up at the clock on the wall—until the hands and numbers began to make sense. “Jesus,” she said. “Is that really the time?”
“Yes it is, and don’t blaspheme.”
“Sorry, Mum.” Her mother, the born again Christian.
“So ...”
Rachael shrugged, then realised her mother couldn’t see her. “So, what’s up?”
“You forgot to ring—not that I’m surprised. You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached.”
I’m not so sure it is right now, thought Rachael. But at least that explained why her mother was on the phone. She’d made a promise when she left home to ring on the first Saturday of every month. Today was Saturday the 2nd. Rachael tried to access her mental ‘to do’ list, but couldn’t bring it up.
“I knew this would happen when you moved away,” her mother continued, voice growing louder. “Knew you’d forget all about your poor old mum! I expect you were out gallivanting last night with what’s-his-name?”
“Mum, I wouldn’t know how to gallivant if someone gave me lessons.” But the mention of Mike’s name—or even the absence of it—brought back the events of last night with a vengeance. Rachael went very quiet.
“Are you still there?” asked her mother.
“Yes.”
“I was worried, Rachael. I thought something had happened to you.” And yes, there behind the anger was that familiar concern in her voice.
“Like what, Mum? I keep telling you I’m fine.”
“The city’s not a safe place. You read all sorts in the papers, see things on the news ...”
“I’m fine,” repeated Rachael, rubbing her head. Nothing a few aspirins wouldn’t fix, anyway.
“Fights and gangs and—”
“Mum, there’s nothing ...” Rachael paused. In the last day, she’d seen both a fight and a gang lurking around Handley Crescent, if you could call two youths a ‘gang’. She couldn’t lie to her mother, but at the same time she didn’t want her sitting up all night thinking that her daughter was lying somewhere in a pool of blood. “Look, I’m okay, really. Are you going to stop worrying now?”
“I’ll stop worrying when you come to live back here,” her mother said. It was a standard catchphrase. Ever since Rachael announced that she wanted