Claire said. ‘Not through choice. I was lucky that people helped me and eventually I got myself back on track. Most people genuinely try not to think about it. It’s as if they think about it, it might happen to them – as if it’s somehow contagious. So they actively choose to ignore it.’
Imogen pulled out a card and handed it to the woman. ‘Please call us if you hear anything.’
‘I will.’ She smiled and paused as though she was thinking for a moment. ‘It’s good to see you’re taking it seriously.’
‘One more thing, if you don’t mind.’ Adrian stepped in. ‘Do you know of anyone who used to sleep in that signal box? Or have you heard of anyone who maybe hung out there?’
‘The only one I can think of is a man called Bricks,’ Claire said slowly. ‘But the last I heard he had been arrested and put in prison. He had some mental health issues – he tried to rob the post office last year. He’s spent his whole life in an out of the system in one way or another.’
‘You don’t happen to have a picture of him, do you?’
Claire frowned and shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry, I don’t.’
‘OK, Claire, thank you for your time. We’ll see ourselves out,’ Imogen said, not wanting to make the poor woman stand up again.
‘Feel better,’ Miles said as they pulled the door closed.
Imogen was glad to be outside again, out of Claire Morgan’s house which seemed to be an incubator of sorts, the air so hot and thick you could feel yourself getting sicker with every passing moment. She breathed in heartily, ignoring the myriad of smells coming from the industrial wheelie bins in the alley adjacent to the charity.
‘Never thought I would be grateful for the smell of old kebabs.’
‘Come on, a nice doner with a big salad and chilli tomato sauce is one of your five a day!’
‘You disgust me.’ She smiled and walked on ahead.
The prison bed wasn’t comfortable. The blanket was itchy and the pillow may as well not have been there at all. At least there was a mattress – something that hadn’t been in the police holding cell. Gabriel’s eyes were closed as he tried hard to block out his surroundings. He thought of Emma and her white skin. She wore talcum powder instead of foundation to make it even whiter and when they would kiss he could taste it on the edge of her lips. He imagined her lips on his and realised he was holding his breath. He couldn’t ask her to wait for him. It would possibly be weeks until he got a trial date and the sentence he was likely to receive would mean that it would be foolish to hope that she could put her life on hold. They had been apart for nine days now and already he found himself giving up on the idea that he would be with her again. Without that hope he didn’t know what else he had to hold onto. He’d had relationships before, but this was different. She was the one. They just fit together. He couldn’t imagine never seeing Emma again; his stomach hurt at the thought of it.
He found his mind returning to that day. Why had he not checked the building before starting the fire? Why had he even gone there in the first place? He deserved this punishment. He had taken someone’s life.
He was grateful for the darkness. His eyes were so sore from the air in here; it was noxious, unclean and unfiltered. He sucked in a breath hard as he tried to fill his body with clean air. Any air. He gulped to try and stop the tears that refused to stay beneath the surface any longer. Ready to burst from his bloodshot eyes.
Surely this was all a big mistake? Prison? He couldn’t be here. This couldn’t be real. Just over a week ago, he and Emma had been making plans for the summer. Everything they had talked about was now gone. No going back to college or work or holidays. No more hope. No future. Or at the very least, a future he hadn’t accounted for and most certainly didn’t want. This would never go away. It couldn’t. Someone had died because of him. Someone had lost their father, brother, son – all because of Gabriel’s stupidity.
He couldn’t feel sorry for himself, but he could feel anger. The numbness inside had gone. He had spent so long focussing on how to behave and making sure he didn’t upset anyone that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel anything. His eyes no longer stung and he realised he was crying. Thank God he was alone.
Gabriel turned on his side and drew his knees up to his chest. The release of pressure was immense; he could feel himself letting go and breathing for what seemed like the first time in a week. Tears coming until there were no more. The short burst of emotion had calmed him down. His breathing normalising, he drifted into thoughts of Emma, wishing he had that T-shirt so he could at least inhale her scent.
That’s when he noticed the light. A break in the darkness. His heart stopped as he heard the sound of metal against metal. The bolt sliding across and his door opening, followed by shuffling and quiet footsteps. Should he hold his breath or pretend to be asleep? Should he turn and look? He balled his hand into a fist, ready to punch anyone who touched him. No one had said anything to him when he was arrested, but he knew what they had all been thinking. It had been his first thought when he’d been told he was going to prison. Prison rape was a joke to most people. Don’t drop the soap. It had stopped being funny the second the prison gates opened and the van pulled inside.
Gabriel heard whispering in the room now, but the sound of his exaggerated heartbeat in his ears made it impossible to discern the words. This was the most vulnerable he had ever felt in his life. This was worse than the strip search, which at least had taken place in the daylight. This was worse than using the servery for the first time, shoulder to shoulder with the unknown, eyes all over him. He didn’t recognise the whispered voices but there were more than one. It was becoming clear that they weren’t here for him though. They were going through Jason’s things. Taking them away. He heard them toss the mattress aside and check underneath it. What had Jason done? What had happened to him? Whatever it was, Gabriel hadn’t heard Jason’s name spoken among the other inmates in the nine days since he had gone. He didn’t want to get himself in trouble by bringing it up, but he found it very odd how quickly the disappearance was accepted. Why wasn’t anyone else curious? The lack of curiosity was more upsetting to Gabriel than Jason’s unexplained departure.
When Gabriel was sure he was alone, he opened his eyes. The room was dark again, silent once more. He allowed his sight to adjust before turning over in his bed. He wanted to see what had been taken. He moved as though he were still asleep, eyes open a sliver. Everything belonging to Jason was gone, the cupboard empty, door open. The books and pictures on the wall had vanished. It was though he had never been there.
Imogen knocked on the door of the church and pushed lightly against it. It swung wide open. The building inside looked empty. She had never been a religious person but she found the church quite calming in itself; the well-worn wooden seats, the dancing light from the stained-glass windows, the smell of incense and burning candles. It reminded her of her childhood; her mother was always burning incense and leaving candles lit through the night. It was a miracle there had never been an accident. She thought of her mother, painting by candlelight and she knew that was why she liked churches: they reminded her of her mum, the peaceful mother that would quietly paint in the half-light
