Andy McNab - Dark winter

'Did the police come?'

'There were police swarming all around the flats the next day, but we made sure we all told the same story. We thought we were murderers. I'd never felt so scared.'

Kelly looked up at me. 'Do you ever get scared now?'

'All the time.' I chanced a smile. 'And before you ask, I have absolutely no plans to die until I'm very old.'

'But no guarantees, right?'

'Whoa, that's one for Josh and his Bible college.'

She winced. 'Not funny, Nick. I know you don't care what happens to you, but I do. It really matters, you know? I mean, what if people come after you like they came after Dad? What happens to me then?'

I squatted down in front of her, our faces now level. 'There'd be Josh. They all love you.'

'I know that. But it's you I need, Nick. Like I said, Mom used to call you and Dad her two strong men. Now there's only one of you left.' She let go of the ropes and touched my cheeks with surprisingly cold hands. 'Will you be my strong man, Nick? Will you?' There were tears in her eyes.

She took her hands out of mine and looked down at her trainers again before I could answer, which was just as well because I didn't have a clue what to say. 'There aren't many places I've felt safe since… well, since I was on my own. I listed them to myself once. There's the house in Norfolk. Remember, we put up that tent in the bedroom? You nailed it to the floor instead of pegs and I thought that was so cool. I loved that. Then there's here – sometimes. And…' She looked away. 'That place you took me to…'

I gave her shoulder a squeeze. 'Dr Hughes?'

She nodded. 'She understood.'

In the silence that followed, I realized it was time for me to start being her strong man. Josh was right. 'Would you like to talk things over with her again?'

Her face lit up as if I'd thrown a switch. 'Could I? I mean, how?'

'The twin miracles of flight and Mastercard. We could be there tomorrow if we wanted.'

'I'm supposed to be going to Josh's Bible college on Friday and-'

I waved my hand. 'Not a problem. Let's go to England instead. I'm sure he'll understand. We can go and see your grandparents, spend some time with Dr Hughes, spend some time together, just you and me.'

Practically falling off the tyre, she threw her arms round my neck and planted a huge kiss on my cheek. Her face was radiant. 'I feel better already.' Then she frowned. 'How did you get here? Did Josh bring you?'

'Yeah. He's gone down to the stores for a coffee.'

'He doesn't know about Disneyland, does he?'

'Our secret.' I gave her a grin. 'How do you get in anyway?'

'I borrowed the key way back and got one cut, stupid.' She couldn't stop smiling about it. 'OK, let's go.'

We walked around the backyard a bit as Kelly looked at the swing and then we locked up. A bird swooped across the grass and up into the sky, and I called Josh on my cell as we headed out of the driveway.

Bromley, UK Thursday 8 May, 09:10 hrs Kelly's grandparents stood outside their 1980s bungalow, beneath a small wooden sign saying 'The Sycamores'. Carmen was still fussing. 'Have you got your key? We're going to Safeway's later.'

I dangled it at her as Kelly put on her seat-belt, the expression on her face as dull as the day outside. I started the engine and they waved us off as if we were leaving for ever, not just for the day. Carmen always got anxious when it came to departures. Apparently she hadn't been the same since her sister, her only other flesh and blood, went on holiday to Australia soon after Carmen's wedding and ending up marrying a guy in Sydney who had the money to buy his own house. Something like that, anyway – I'd glaze over when she got to the bit about Jimmy never really earning enough to buy a whole house in Bromley.

Carmen and Jimmy hadn't changed at all since I'd last seen them quite a few years ago, and neither had anything in their lives. But I guess they must have been like that pretty much since they first got married and Jimmy started to work his bollocks off to keep Carmen up with the Australian Joneses. He still had the same nearly spotless fifteen-year-old Rover, and Carmen still kept the place as immaculate as a show-house. She still blamed me for her son's murder, even though I hadn't been there. We'd both been in the same line of work, and that was good enough for her. They were both still pissed off that Kev and Marsha had made Josh and me joint guardians of their kids in their will.

Kelly just sat there, not saying a word, staring out of the window at the busy streets. Josh was right about the mood-swings; right now she was so down I wasn't sure she'd ever swing back, but then I remembered how far she'd come since I first found her. I wondered if it was something I'd said, or something she'd heard me saying to her grandparents. I'd always tried hard not to let her know what I really thought about them. This morning it was especially tough, because I'd overheard Jimmy agreeing with Carmen that Kelly's problem was entirely my fault. Nothing to do with that nice man Josh: he'd taken her on out of the kindness of his heart, introduced her personally to God and given her lots of love and care. No, mark her words, none of this would have happened if I hadn't insisted on looking after her myself in the beginning, and left her with that good Christian family instead. Well, tough shit. It had happened and, fuck it, they'd be dead soon, so they'd better get all their complaining in while they could. I caught a glimpse of myself grinning like an idiot in the rear-view mirror. Somehow Carmen and Jimmy really brought out the best in me.

We were just south of the Thames and passing a big McDonald's. I felt a need to fill the silence. All I'd been getting for the last ten minutes was 'yes', 'no', 'maybe', 'whatever'. I pointed at the McDonald's window posters, doing my best to keep the grin in place. 'Hey, look, the McRib's back. Shall we get some afterwards?'

'Yeah, whatever.'

I stole a glance at her. What the fuck was going on inside that young head of hers? Probably much the same as went on in mine. I'd just learnt to hide it better. The Moorings was a large townhouse in a leafy square overlooking central gardens that were fenced and gated so that only the residents could enjoy the trimly cut grass. Everything about the area and the building said that this was an institution that specialized in the disorders of the rich, which was unfortunate because I wasn't.

I found a parking space for the cheapo-hire-deal Corsa, turned off the engine and looked at Kelly as I undid my seat-belt. 'Looks as lovely as ever, doesn't it?'

No response.

'I always wonder why they call it the Moorings. I mean, we're half a mile from the Thames – where are the boats?'

Still silent, Kelly unbuckled her belt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. I got out and fed a few pound coins into the meter, and we walked together up the three stone steps, between the nicely painted wrought-iron railings and through the glass doors. The reception area was as plush as the head office of a private bank, had Victorian oil paintings on the walls and smelt of furniture polish. An immaculately dressed woman came out from behind the desk and ushered us towards the waiting room with an offer of drinks. Kelly was still in 'whatever' mode so I asked for a Coke, and white, no-sugar coffee. We knew the way, and settled down side by side on a big red leather chesterfield. A spread of property magazines for the South of France and the Caribbean lay on the low glass table in front of us. Nice work if you can get it, this therapy business.

Kelly rested her hands on her jeaned thighs, but the rest of her seemed to crumple. Her index finger was still red and the skin was flaking under the plaster. I nodded down at it. 'Does that thing hurt? I thought it would have cleared up by now.'