the group or you are not.’
‘I am with the group,’ Dawn said quickly, nodding apologetically.
Arni stared at her, making Dawn more agitated, until they were distracted by soft footsteps on the stairs as Gemma came into view. John felt a small burst of pleasure. He smiled, he couldn’t stop himself, but before he could say anything, Gemma looked past him, her eyes widened.
‘Someone’s here,’ she said. ‘It’s Henry.’
John followed her gaze towards the woods on the other side of the field. There was movement in the trees from a band of people dressed in black, Henry at the rear of the group.
Gemma waved at them, and someone waved back. She turned to Dawn. ‘Henry’s back.’
Dawn didn’t respond at first, as if she was weighing up the right thing to say, but then she flickered a smile. ‘That’s good.’
Gemma held her gaze for a moment, and then went towards the door.
John watched as the group walked across the field, Henry encircled, and then as he looked, he saw someone new, a woman he hadn’t seen before. She was tall and attractive, her clothing more provocative than the others, in tight blue shorts and a cropped vest top, making her breasts bulge out.
‘It’s Lucy,’ Gemma cried, and she darted past John, running barefoot across the grass. When she got to the group she threw her arms around the newcomer, and the laughs of the crowd drifted across the field. Arni scowled and went back inside.
John watched as Henry got nearer, and when Gemma got back to the house, she skipped excitedly, clapping her hands.
‘What’s the excitement?’ John said.
‘Lucy’s home,’ Gemma said, and giggled.
John was surprised. He’d never heard of Lucy, but from the way the others spoke to her, it seemed like everyone knew her.
Before John could ask anything else, Henry came towards him, looking wound up and edgy.
‘What’s on your mind, John?’ he said.
‘Sorry, I was just wondering who she was.’
‘Interested in her?’ he said, and looked round at Lucy. ‘She’s very pretty.’
‘No, not like that,’ John said quickly, catching Gemma’s glare. ‘I’m just curious, that’s all.’
Henry cocked his head, his dark twists of hair flopping with him. ‘It’s not just about what we do on the demos, or even from here. There are people out there, doing vital work. Lucy is one of them.’
‘And she’s back now?’
‘Yes, she’s back, because the time is getting nearer for positive action.’
‘How do you know?’
Henry’s eyes showed his excitement. ‘I just sense it. Don’t you?’ He banged his chest with his hand and grinned, his teeth bright white, matching the gleam of his eyes. ‘If you have belief, you know it. Do you have belief, John?’
‘I believe in you, Henry.’
‘That’s all you need,’ Henry said, and grinned again.
‘So what do we do?’
Henry looked back across the fields, towards Oulton. ‘You stay here, John, because I trust you to keep watch. When they come for us, fight them. We have a message, and they will try to stop it being heard. We have to be ready.’
John smiled. ‘Whatever is coming, Henry, I’m with you.’
Chapter Seventeen
Charlie tried to focus but the movement behind the bar seemed blurred, patches of light shimmering in front of him. He lifted his nearly empty glass, drained it and went to put the glass on the table, but misjudged it, so that the glass made a bang. The landlord looked over.
He was in The Old Star, a low-ceilinged pub of small side rooms that had avoided the open plan craze of the eighties. The lighting was subdued and the place kept warm by log fires. It was too easy to fall asleep there after a long day at the office.
He put his head back, closed his eyes and the sounds of the bar went distant. The smell of stale beer filtered into his nose, what used to be hidden by cigarette smoke before the smoking ban. He almost laughed. He knew this was too much for a Monday night, but it didn’t feel like the evening would get better if he went home. Then he realised that he was laughing, just a chuckle, but he was on his own, his eyes closed.
Charlie stopped himself as he thought of the message he’d had from Julie that morning, complaining about his Saturday night call. He felt for the phone in his pocket. Perhaps he ought to give her a ring, just to say sorry. But something stopped him; a last shred of common sense still making itself heard above the jangle of drunken musings.
He picked up his glass again. There was solace in there.
There was a noise in front of him. He knew who it would be: the landlord telling him that he’d had enough. He wasn’t interested in hearing that, and so he kept his eyes closed. Then he heard someone say, ‘Mr Barker?’
That ruled out the landlord or any of his clients. He was Charlie to everyone.
Charlie opened his eyes slowly and then waited for them to adjust, as the bar seemed to focus in and out and swirl in front of him. Then he saw that the person who was in front of him was Ted Kenyon.
Charlie closed his eyes again. He didn’t want an argument. He had left his job behind when he locked the door to the office.
‘Mr Barker, please wake up.’
He sighed. There was no escaping it. He sat up and moved around the side of the table. ‘I wasn’t asleep, I was resting my eyes,’ he said, his head bobbing as he spoke. When Ted didn’t respond, he added, ‘I’ll need a drink for this. Can I get you one?’
Ted looked uncertain at first, and then he nodded. ‘I’ll join you.’
Charlie went to the bar. The barman gave him a look as if he was about to refuse service, but then he glanced over at Ted and poured Charlie the same again, along with a pint for Ted.
When Charlie sat down, slumping back into his seat, Ted said, ‘Don’t you think you ought to slow down?’
Charlie lifted the pint to his lips, let some of the beer swim into his mouth, and then put his glass down. ‘Yes, I do, but I’m not making plans for it yet,’ he said, his voice coming out with more of a slur than he expected. He smiled. ‘I’m guessing this is no coincidence. Twice in one day. How has it been for you?’
‘Mixed.’ When Charlie frowned, Ted added, ‘The man I blamed for Alice’s killer still being free is dead, and so I should be happy, even though that is a bad thing to say, but I’m not.’
‘Perhaps because you’re a good man.’
‘That’s
