Like This, for Ever

5




‘WILL YOU BE working on the murders when you go back?’ Barney asked Lacey, as they turned into the road where they both lived. Lacey looked down at the boy, only a few years away from becoming a man, and yet whose face was so fresh, whose skin so clear and whose thought processes so blindingly obvious. He was thinking that his stock with his gang of mates would soar if he had an inside track on a murder investigation. Especially one involving kids. People were invariably most interested in murders when they were potential victims themselves.

She was almost sorry to disappoint him. ‘No, I don’t work on murders,’ she said. ‘My job isn’t anything like that exciting.’

She could see him watching, waiting for her to tell him what her job was, hoping it would be something like Drugs, Vice or the Flying Squad. But how could she explain to a boy she barely knew that she didn’t think she would ever work as a police officer again?

‘You and your mates are good,’ she said. ‘I’ve watched you a couple of times now. If the light catches you the right way, especially against the mural with stars on it, you look like you’re flying.’

‘My mates are scared of you,’ he said.

The words seemed to take them both by surprise. Barney’s lips were clenched tight and he had an oh shit look in his eyes.

‘Are you?’ she asked him.

‘No,’ he said after a second. ‘But then, I knew you before.’

Before. This child, whom she’d spoken to less than a dozen times, could remember what she’d been like before. Jesus, even she couldn’t remember that any more.

Barney had stopped moving. ‘He’s here again.’ His voice had lowered, giving a hint of the man’s that was to come in a few years, and something about its tone put her on full alert. She stopped, too.

‘Who’s here?’ she asked. Two middle-aged women were walking away from them further up the street. There was no one at Barney’s front door.

‘The man that watches you.’

Lacey wondered at the complexity of the human heart that could feel fear, misery and joy, all at the same time. All with the same root cause. ‘What man?’ she asked, although she knew perfectly well.

‘The one who sits in his car outside your house,’ the boy replied. ‘Who knocks on your door a lot.’

‘Where is he?’ she asked him. ‘Don’t point or look, just tell me.’

The kid was bright, he did exactly that. ‘He’s in a green car on the left-hand side of the road about six – no, seven – cars away from us.’

So strong, the temptation to look for the car, to make sure he was right. ‘How on earth did you spot that?’

Barney shrugged, looked uncomfortable. ‘I just see things,’ he said.

‘What do you mean, you just see things? I wouldn’t even have known there was a green car that far down the street, but you not only see the car, you see a man sitting inside it, in the dark.’

He sighed. ‘The colours of the cars are reflected in the water on the road,’ he said. ‘There’s a silver one, a black one, red, two more silver, white van, then his green one.’

He couldn’t see the line of parked cars any more. She was blocking his view. If he was right, it was extraordinary. Incredible powers of observation and recall.

‘The streetlights are shining through the cars,’ he went on. ‘The light comes straight through most of them, but in the green one there’s something that gets in its way. A dark, solid shape, which can only be a largeish head and shoulders. A man, sitting inside a green car. It’s obvious.’

‘I think we need to get you working for the Met,’ said Lacey.

His face softened. ‘I’ve always been good at finding things,’ he said. ‘When I was a kid, I used to find four-leaf clovers in the grass. My mum collected them in a box for me. I’ve still got them. If you lose anything – you know, jewellery and stuff – just give me a ring. I’ll probably find it.’

‘I have very little jewellery,’ said Lacey. ‘But I could use a four-leaf clover, next time you find one.’

‘I don’t really see them any more,’ he said, taking her seriously. ‘I grew out of that. I see other things now. Lost things.’

They crossed the road and stopped at Barney’s front door. Neither of them had looked back at the green car but Barney’s eyes couldn’t settle. ‘Are you worried about him?’ he asked her.

She shook her head. ‘No, we sort of work together. Actually, he’s more of a friend.’

A look altogether too mature for an eleven-year-old appeared on his face. A friend? Who hung around outside her flat, banging on the door because she wouldn’t answer his telephone calls?

‘He’s worried about me,’ she went on. ‘I’ve been ill, you see. I just don’t want to talk to anyone right now.’

The too-grown-up look disappeared, to be replaced by one that was all kid. ‘Except me,’ he said, smiling at her.

It was surprisingly easy to smile back. ‘Yeah, except you.’

Lacey was about to wish Barney goodnight when she thought to glance up at the house. All the windows were in darkness. There wasn’t even a light in the hallway.

‘Is your dad home?’ she asked him. It was after half nine. Kids of his age, mature or not, shouldn’t be on their own that late. If someone reported it to her at the station, she’d be duty bound to check it out.

‘Probably,’ said Barney. ‘He may have nipped out. Or he could be in his study. It’s at the back of the house, so you wouldn’t see a light.’

He couldn’t make eye contact any more. He was lying. He knew perfectly well his father wasn’t in the house.

‘Do you want me to come and sit with you till he gets back?’ she asked, knowing it would keep the occupant of the green car at bay a little longer. Maybe he’d even give up and go home.

Barney shook his head. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘He’s probably in. I’m just going to go to bed.’

‘Do you have a phone?’

He pulled it from his pocket and held it out. ‘Have you cut yourself ?’ she asked him, holding back from taking it.

A look of panic, as sharp and unexpected as a slap, crossed his face. He looked down quickly, as though noticing for the first time that his fingers were smeared with something that looked a lot like blood.

‘Yuck!’ He wiped his hands backwards and forwards on his jacket, a look of extreme distaste on his face. Then he shuddered. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just something I must have touched.’

Lacey smiled, took the phone and tapped both her mobile and landline numbers into his contacts list. ‘Just in case you need me,’ she told him. He nodded, unlocked his front door and turned to say goodnight.

‘Wash your hands before you eat anything,’ she called. He was looking over her shoulder, at the line of parked cars in the road.

‘I expect he’ll be knocking soon,’ he said, before disappearing inside.