Mo Hayder - Hanging Hill

It had taken some nerve, looking at her face in the mirror, but at least her nose wasn’t broken, Zoë was sure of that, and when she’d cleared the blood away she saw it just looked fat – as if she’d been born that way, with a big nose and small eyes. There was a split at the top of her mouth, but it could pass as an infected cold sore. Even so she looked crazy in Sally’s clothes. They were too wide in the waist and too short. After they’d been to Kelvin’s the two women separated for a while – Sally to speak to Millie, and Zoë to go to her house to tidy up before they met again for the next step in the plan. Visiting Philippa Wood.

Zoë parked outside her house, checked the sunglasses were straight in case any of the neighbours were home, jumped out of the car and went to the front door. She had the key in the lock when she heard a voice behind her.

‘Zoë?’

She turned and saw Ben coming up the path.

‘Zoë?’

‘Oh, no,’ she muttered. ‘Not now.’

She got inside and turned to slam the door, but he was already there – his hand on the panel, pushing at it.

‘Zoë? Where the hell have you been?’

‘None of your business.’ She tried to close the door, but he put his shoulder against it.

‘I’ve tried calling.’

‘My phone’s broken. I dropped it. Please go away.’

‘No. I want to speak to you.’

‘Well, I don’t want to speak to you. Go away. Please, Ben, please.’

‘Only when you’ve listened to me.’

‘Another time.’

She wedged her foot against the skirting-board of the small entrance hall and put all her weight behind the door. Ben answered with his own weight on the other side. There was a moment or two of silence when they concentrated on the struggle. Then, after a slight wavering, the door flew open and Ben walked in, his back straight, looking around as if he was quite at home and had been invited in.

‘I don’t appreciate this.’ She walked past him, her head down. ‘I really don’t.’

‘I’m sorry. Just let me speak. That’s all I want.’

She went to the table and sat there, sunglasses on, head twisted away as if she was intent on looking out of the window. She kept her elbow on the table, and her hand on the side of her head to block his view of her face.

‘Ralph Hernandez didn’t do it.’

‘Oh,’ she said dully. ‘Well, whoopee to that. How do you know? Did your little fortune teller look in her crystal ball?’

‘No. He had an alibi for that night. Complete stranger saw him about the time Lorne was killed. He was in Clifton, seriously considering jumping off Suicide Bridge. He didn’t tell us because he didn’t want his parents to know. Catholics. He’d rather lie and tell them he was out with friends than admit what was going through his head. His friends told him to lie – said they’d back him up.’

‘Great. Thanks for telling me.’ She wriggled her fingers in a little wave. ‘’Bye.’

He didn’t answer. A long silence rolled out. She was tempted to turn to him but she knew he’d be staring right at her.

‘It seems weird saying this to the back of your head,’ he said eventually, ‘but I’m going to say it anyway and hope it sinks in. I’m going to say I’m sorry. About everything.’

She gave a careless shrug. ‘Don’t be sorry. It’s a free world. You fuck, Ben, who you want to fuck. It was nice when you wanted it to be me. That changed, end of story.’

‘It didn’t change. That’s just it. I never wanted it to be anyone but you I was fucking. Except, unlike you, I wanted it to be something more than just dick meeting pussy. I wanted more than that. Of course, in your world that’s some kind of failure.’

Zoë didn’t answer. She stared out of the window at the cars all parked there.

‘But I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and from where I’m sitting I haven’t committed a crime. It’s not wrong to want something more, is it? I thought that was how the world went round.’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, in a dry voice. ‘Whatever floats your boat. But all of this is academic because it’s too late now.’

‘Debbie, you mean?’

‘Miss Personality.’

‘I’m not stupid, Zoë. I can see through her.’

‘Can you? Interesting. What do you see?’

He sighed. ‘Probably the same as you see. You can’t trust anything she says. She didn’t know what she was talking about with Ralph Hernandez and now she’s walking round the office like she owns it, turning up to every meeting. A sterling careerist.’

‘Oh, you noticed.’

‘And the truth is, I don’t even fancy her.’

‘You did well, then, you know, to sleep with someone you didn’t fancy.’

‘You’ve never had an anger shag?’

She nearly turned to him then. ‘A what ?’

‘I was angry with you. I was doing anything I could to get you out of my head. You’re in my head, Zoë. I can’t get you out. I wish I could, but I can’t.’

‘Sorry I’m not more impressed.’ She shook her head. Her neck was stiff and painful. As if she had a fever. ‘It’s just if I was fixated on someone the last thing I could do is sleep with someone else.’

‘Well, I’m a man and you’re a woman. So maybe you wouldn’t understand. And how the hell would you know what you could and couldn’t do? You’ve never been fixated on anyone in your life.’

She was silent, her teeth clenched so tight she thought they might crack. ‘Have you finished now?’ she murmured eventually.

‘Look at me, Zoë.’ He sat down opposite her.

She twisted her head further away, bent it slightly and pretended to be scratching her scalp.

‘Just look at me. Is that so difficult? Come on.’ He reached out and took her arm. She snatched it away, but he leaned forward and grabbed it again, this time brushing against the sunglasses, knocking them slightly. She fumbled up her free hand to push them back on, but he’d already seen. He sat back on the chair, the air knocked out of him. ‘ Jesus . What the hell?’

‘Shit, Ben.’ She sat with her head lowered, pressing the glasses against her face. ‘I mean, shit, I asked you not to come in.’

‘What the fuck happened to you?’

‘It doesn’t matter. Really – it doesn’t matter.’

He slammed his hands on the table and stood up so he was towering above her. ‘Yes, it does matter, Zoë. It does matter. I am allowed to give a toss about you. Handcuff me, read me my rights, but I do.’

She could feel herself trembling – could feel a cold, hard ball of something ease its way into her throat. ‘There’s no need to be like that,’ she said evenly.

‘Just tell me. Who did it? Where did you report it?’

‘I haven’t,’ she mumbled.

‘What?’

‘ I said I haven’t reported it . OK?’ She sat back a bit, rubbing her arms, embarrassed. She was going to end up crying again if she wasn’t careful. ‘And I’m not going to. I keep saying it doesn’t matter. Please leave it.’

Ben was silent for a long time. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘I’m going to report it.’ He was jabbing in a number. ‘Whoever did that needs to be spoken to.’

‘No.’ She made a lunge for the phone, throwing herself across the table.

He twisted away, holding it out of her reach. ‘Then tell me who did it. Or I report it.’

‘Please, Ben.’ She was definitely going to cry now. ‘Jesus. Just – please.’ She pushed her chair back with a squeal and stood up. Everything was spiralling away, getting out of control. ‘Just please, please -’

‘Please what?’

‘Just please don’t,’ she begged. ‘Don’t call anyone.’