an end to the conversation.
Janusz pocketed the change the kid gave him. ‘No, nothing like that,’ he said with a grin.
The man didn’t move his gaze from the screen. ‘What sort of business are we talking about then?’
Janusz held his silence until, finally, the man turned to look at him.
‘I suppose you’d call it a fitness club,’ he said. ‘Used to be run by a good friend of mine. It’s called Jim’s Gym.’
The man blinked, once. Left a pause that was just a fraction of a second too long. ‘I’m not familiar with it. But I’m afraid I am not a great exercise enthusiast.’
‘Pity. But if you do change your mind, drop in any time,’ said Janusz, holding out one of Jim’s cards. ‘We do a really competitive off-peak membership.’ When the man made no move to take it, Janusz left it on the countertop.
It was almost dark when he emerged onto Hoe Street and the temperature had taken a nosedive, but after the warm sweet fug of the café he welcomed the clean chilly air. As he navigated his way through the rush-hour throng he reflected on what he’d just done. It had been a moment of impulse, an urge to heave a boulder into the lake, to see where the ripples might meet land. He had no idea whether the Turk who owned the Pasha Café would report back to his Romanian associate. Nor had he any clue to the nature of their dealings, or whether they were in some way connected to Jim’s murder. All Janusz had was a powerful hunch: that the girl Varenka leaving flowers for Jim meant something. And he’d bet his apartment that the ‘something’ would lead him right back to Scarface.
Outside Walthamstow tube, he paused, and pulled out his phone: by the time he surfaced at Highbury it would be past office hours.
‘Czesc, Wiktor! How’s the weather in Swansea? … Oh? Shame. Listen, have you had a chance to check that reg number I texted you? That’s right, a black Land Rover Discovery …’
His big face creased in a smile. ‘Wspaniale! Text me over the address, would you?’
Kershaw woke from sleep with a violent start, convinced there was an intruder in her flat. She held her breath, straining to hear what might have woken her. Then she heard the fridge door slam, hard enough to clank the bottles in the door against each other. Ben.
She threw herself back down and, putting a pillow over her head, waited for her heartbeat to subside. Just as she was starting to drift off, she heard the ringtone of Ben’s mobile, muffled at first, like it was in his pocket, then getting louder as he retrieved it.
Fuck! Until now, having their own flats – hers at the wrong end of Canning Town, his in leafy Wanstead – meant that even though they spent most nights together, if she felt in need of a bit of space or a solid night’s sleep, she could always escape. It struck her that in ten days’ time, after they moved in together, that would no longer be an option.
Pulling on a dressing gown, she padded into the kitchen where she found Ben, bleary-eyed, a half-eaten kebab in front of him on the table, his mobile clamped to his ear. He looked up, and waved his free hand at the phone, his face telegraphing comic apology.
‘Yeah, I know,’ he said. ‘Great to see you, too. Remember what I said, alright? Yeah, mate, definitely.’
She checked the clock – it was 2.30 a.m.
Ben hung up. ‘Sorry, darlin’,’ he said, his words indistinct. ‘That was Jamie, checking I got home.’
‘Do you know what time it is?’
With the literalness of the very drunk, he squinted down at his phone. ‘Two thirty-three,’ he said.
‘Did it slip your mind that I’m on earlies this week?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got to get up in three hours’ time.’
‘I’ve gotta get up early tomorrow, too,’ said Ben, an aggrieved expression on his face.
Kershaw snapped. ‘And if you want to get shit-faced on a school night, that’s up to you! But you’ve got no right to come back here crashing around and waking me up!’
‘Fine! If you don’t want me here, I’ll go!’ Ben got to his feet, swaying. They stared at each other for a long and terrible moment.
‘Don’t be daft,’ she said finally. ‘I never said I wanted you to go.’
When the alarm started nagging her at half past five it was still dark outside, and properly chilly in the flat – she’d forgotten to reset the central heating timer. Kershaw hated being on early turn at this time of year – the cold she could tolerate, but the shortening of the days as autumn tumbled into winter stirred in her a near-primitive sense of dread.
She made a mug of tea and took it into the bedroom.
‘Ben?’ A muted groan came from under the duvet. ‘You said to wake you before I leave.’
Ben pulled the duvet from his face and blinked a few times. ‘Morning,’ he croaked. Manoeuvring himself to a sitting position, he pulled a penitent face. ‘I’m really sorry I woke you up last night. Twattish behaviour when you’re on earlies, I know.’
Kershaw smiled. It was one of the things she loved about Ben: when he was in the wrong about something, he apologised quickly and with real class. It was a quality she had never really mastered.
‘You’re forgiven,’ she said, handing him his tea.
‘Are we good?’ he asked, throwing her a look under his eyebrows.
‘Yeah, we’re good,’ she told him. ‘So, you never said, how was Jamie last night?’
‘Not good.’ A spasm of distress crossed his face. ‘He’s full of anger, still guilt-ridden for letting Hannah out of his sight – and drowning it all in beer and Jameson’s. He says she’s totally changed – despite the Downs she used to be a confident kid, always nagging him and Cath to let her do the things her friends were allowed to.’
Kershaw remembered that, agonisingly for Hannah’s parents, it had been one of her first trips out alone to buy her favourite Cherry Coke that had thrown her into the path of Anthony Stride. ‘I just can’t imagine what they’re going through, let alone her,’ she said.
‘Do you know the worst thing Jamie told me?’
She shook her head.
‘Apparently, Hannah used to be a real daddy’s girl, but since it happened, she hasn’t let him near her. When she wakes up in the night, Cath’s the only one she’ll let comfort her.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Kershaw. She took a swig of his tea.
‘I saw that … bastard in the street the other day,’ said Ben.
She looked at him, alarmed by the sudden and unfamiliar ferocity in his voice. ‘Really? You never mentioned it.’
‘Didn’t I?’ he
