Peter May - Runaway

Jack closed his eyes and felt his stomach lurch at the thought that he had refused to even entertain since Maurie had told him that Flet was not the killer.

Rachel never had come home. And Maurie had always refused to say where she’d gone or what had happened to her.

He said, ‘I don’t know, Rick. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.’

Early the next morning, Jack and Luke walked on Hampstead Heath with Luke’s black schnauzer, Odin, leaving the others at breakfast with Jan. Wild flowers grew among the long grasses in this gently undulating pasture, and Jack found it hard to believe that they were still in the heart of the city. Beyond the tops of the trees he could see chimneys and skyscrapers in the hazy distance of the cool, grey morning, but it felt like they were miles from anywhere. And a little of the sense of oppression that had descended on him since their arrival in London lifted like a weight off his chest. Suddenly it seemed easier to breathe.

A jogger, in clinging mauve Lycra, passed them on the half-gravel path that cut through the grass, an iPod Nano strapped to her arm, earphones firmly plugged in her ears to shut out the world. She almost certainly did not hear Odin’s playful bark or Luke’s call of rebuke, which brought the dog smartly to heel.

‘Did you ever contact your folks?’ Jack asked him.

Luke gazed thoughtfully into the distance. ‘Never did.’ He turned to Jack. ‘Was that cruel of me?’

Jack shrugged. ‘No more cruel than what they put you through, I guess.’

‘I often wonder how my life would have been if I’d gone back.’

Jack smiled, ‘Probably as often as I wonder how mine would have been if I had stayed.’

Luke was lost in a moment of reflective silence. ‘I sometimes think I should have got in touch. But I didn’t, and I don’t regret it. Regret is such a waste of energy. You can’t undo what’s been done. But every new day offers the chance to shape it in the way you want. And that’s how I’ve lived my life, Jack. Looking forward, not back.’ He paused. ‘Only thing I regret. Only thing I wish I could go back and change is what happened to Jeff. I’ve wondered so many times how different it might all have been if only we’d got up to the roof sixty seconds earlier.’ He looked at Jack again. ‘Do you ever think about those days?’

Jack nodded. ‘Often.’

‘Whatever any of us have or haven’t done since, Jack, those were the days of our lives. I don’t think I ever felt quite so alive.’ He smiled fondly. ‘Poor old Jobby Jeff...’ he chuckled, ‘as Dave would have called him. He missed out on so much.’

‘It’s different with me and Veronica,’ Jack said.

And they both laughed.

Odin cocked his head and looked at them, no doubt wondering what was signified by the strange quacking sounds that issued from their mouths.

When their laughter died and their smiles faded, Luke said, ‘Your grandson tells me he graduated with honours in maths and computer studies.’

‘The boy’s a bloody genius, Luke. Don’t know where he gets it from. Certainly not me. He’d give you a run for your money any day.’ He stooped to pick up a stick and throw it ahead of them for Odin to chase. ‘But he’s in danger of chucking it all away. I guess he’s self-conscious about his weight. Got no real confidence. Locks himself away playing computer games half the night and sleeping most of the day. And his parents are a dead bloody loss.’

Odin returned with the stick, and Jack threw it for him again.

‘Nightmare though it’s been, I think this trip might actually have been good for him. Although we’re both going to get it in the neck when we get home.’

They walked, then, in silence for a time.

Luke seemed lost in thought before he said, ‘My boys are just about to commission an IT developer to write software for a custom-made database and accounting system for the agency.’ He looked at Jack. ‘Is that something Ricky might be able to do?’

Jack smiled. ‘That’s good of you, Luke. And I appreciate it. But you run a professional business. You need a professional software developer.’

‘If he could do it, I’d rather the contract went to friends or family. And we have plenty of space in the house here. He’s a nice lad. I think Jan’s taken a fancy to him.’

Jack said, ‘I twisted the boy’s arm to get him to bring us down here. He really didn’t want to do it. But, you know, we’d never have made it without him.’ He tilted his head towards Luke. ‘Why don’t you ask him? See what he says. He’ll not bullshit you. If he can’t do it, he’ll tell you.’

Luke grinned. ‘Then I’ll ask.’

They were almost back at the house when Jack said, ‘Luke... about tonight.’ He avoided looking at him. ‘You don’t have to come with us, if you don’t want to. We’ve already burned our boats, but none of this has to touch you. And God knows what it is that Maurie’s got planned.’

But Luke shook his head. ‘You think I’m going to let you old farts go out to the Victoria Hall on your own?’ He lifted his head to stare in thoughtful wonder at the sky. ‘The Victoria Hall. The very name of the place brings it all back. I’ve thought about that bunch of people a lot over the years. J. P. Walker. And that crazy woman, what was her name? Alice. Both dead now.’

‘Are they?’

‘She died sometime in the seventies. You probably wouldn’t have heard much about her up there, but she was a minor celebrity in London for a while. Cured by JP. Her art became quite fashionable. There were exhibitions, she wrote a book, started making a lot of money.’ He paused for a moment of reflection. ‘She dropped dead suddenly at a vernissage, a glass of champagne in her hand. An aneurism, apparently.’

‘And JP?’

A sadness crossed Luke’s face, like the shadow of a cloud as the sun slipped momentarily behind it. ‘His philosophy and his writings were à la mode for a few years. But he seemed simply to drop off the radar in the seventies. Overtaken by age and fashion, I suppose. Then I saw his obituary in The Times . Must have been mid-eighties. He’d got into a tussle with the American immigration authorities over a conviction for possession of cannabis in the seventies. Sometime before that he’d established a home, and some kind of relationship, in New York City. Came back here for the funeral of his ex-wife, the mother of his children, and they wouldn’t let him back into the States. He’d developed a drink problem by that time, too. Full-blown alcoholic, it seems. Anyway, they found him dead in a hotel room in the West End. Massive overdose of barbiturates.’

Jack was shocked. ‘He killed himself?’

Luke nodded.

And Jack remembered that day he’d found JP weeping in his office. And the last time he’d seen him. Dancing wildly on the roof of Dr Robert’s house in the moments before Jeff jumped to his death. And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.

Luke stopped and turned earnest eyes on his old friend. ‘I’m going with you tonight, Jack. Whatever really happened back then, I was as much a part of it as any of you. And I still am. I want to know what happened, too.’

The last light of the evening had gone by the time they cruised slowly through the backstreets of Bethnal Green in Luke’s Mercedes, turning finally into the square that was bounded on its south side by the Victoria Hall, dark and dominating against a sky of low cloud that reflected back the city lights.

Rising up around the other three sides of it were the same blocks of council flats that had been there fifty years before. Face-lifted now, many of them privately owned and lived in by Arabs and Asians, Eastern Europeans, and a handful perhaps of native East Enders.