Pat Barker - Border Crossing

All this was comforting, in a way. It raised his morale not to have to see himself as Lauren’s victim. Determined to start work on the book again, he went into his study, only to stop short in the doorway. For there, propped up on his chair, obviously not forgotten, left deliberately, was Lauren’s last painting of the river.

The sun hung over the water, a dull red without rays and without heat, as it might look in the last days of the planet. Beneath was an almost abstract swirl of greys and browns, and in the bottom right-hand corner, barely in the picture, a dark figure, himself, looking out over the water.

All the way through his conversation with Lauren he’d been aware of the answering machine’s irritating beep. When he finally played it back, the messages included five requests for telephone interviews about the Kelsey murder. Because of his special interest in conduct disorder he was usually asked for his opinion whenever a crime involving children hit the headlines. Some of these interviews he would have to do, but he didn’t feel like calling anybody back at the moment. Lauren’s departure was too raw, and he needed to plan how he was going to respond to questions about Danny.

The person he needed to talk to now was Martha. He reached her at the third attempt. She said she’d come round and he went to the window to wait for her. Downstairs, in the kitchen, the answering machine clicked on again. He couldn’t make out most of the words, but he thought he heard Danny’s name. Leaning over the banister, listening to thevoice, he felt a tremor of foreboding, and for the first time understood how hounded Danny must feel.

A gust of wind buffeted the glass, and splashes of rain began to darken the pavement. He watched Martha park the car and run towards the house. She turst in, laughing, running her fingers through her short, dark hair. ‘I hope to God it’s better than this tomorrow,’ she said, as he took her coat.

‘Why tomorrow?’

‘I’m going to a wedding. In fact I’m the chief bridesmaid. I won’t tell you how many times that makes it. But it’s a hell of a lot more than three.’

They walked through into the living room. He saw her noticing the gaps, the absences.

‘Of course, I wish now I wasn’t going. Ian,’ she said, when he looked puzzled. ‘The murder.’

‘You’re allowed a private life.’

‘Yeah.’ She sat down, and laughed. ‘I just wish I was better at it.’

He glanced round the half-empty room. ‘Yeah, me too.’

The rain was heavier now, pelting against the glass, sealing them in. It was dark in the room, but Tom didn’t want the glare of electric light. Maltha’s face was a pale oval. He sat down opposite her, lowering himself into the chair. That was another thing he’d noticed: he was moving like a much older man, levering himself out of bed in the mornings, leaning on the banisters when he climbed the stairs, as if the injury were physical.

‘As you can see,’ he said heavily, ‘Lauren’s moved out.’

‘Yes.’ She wasted no time on expressions of regret, and he was grateful to her for that. ‘And I gather Danny showed up in the middle of it?’

That was the first time she’d used his real name. ‘Yes. I could’ve done without that.’

‘He’s frightened.’

‘Is he exaggerating the risk, do you think?’

In the kitchen the answering machine clicked on again.

‘I’m being pursued,’ Tom said, listening.

‘Well, that’s the answer, isn’t it?’

‘They’d be ringing me anyway. Every time there’s a child involved in a serious crime…’ He waved in the direction of the voice.

‘Like this?’

‘No, this is a bit worse. I’m not returning the calls. But no, you’re right. Something happened when Danny came to the house. A lot of things had gone, so it looked empty, and I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but it sounds different as well, hollow, and Danny was in the middle of all this, and I suddenly thought, I shouldn’t be doing this. I mean — what I’m trying to say is, You don’t want an empty space at the centre of your life when you’ve got somebody like Danny prowling round the edges. He’s always pressingfor more, you know? And the emptiness gives him a way in.’

‘You make him sound like a virus.’

Tom shrugged. ‘He’s dangerous.’

‘Violent?’

‘Don’t know. Probably not.’

‘Probably not?’

‘Yeah. Probably. I don’t know, you don’t know, the parole board certainly didn’t know. I suspect Danny doesn’t know.’

She was listening intently. It was curious this feeling of intimacy, in the darkening room. ‘Are you sure that’s a fair assessment?’ she asked. ‘I’m wondering a bit whether you don’t see him as threatening because you’re…. feeling threatened anyway. I know what it’s like when a relationship breaks up — my God, I ought to. You do feel threatened.’

‘You mean, I’m cracking up?’

‘Of course I don’t mean that.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, you might. Might be true. Did you know he accused a teacher at Long Garth of sexual abuse?’

She looked surprised. ‘Are you sure? There’s nothing on the file.’

‘The headmaster decided a public investigation wouldn’t be in anybody’s best interests.’

‘So the teacher got away with it.’

‘Or Danny.’

‘You think he was lying?’

‘I don’t know. The teacher had been bending the rules, but then people always do bend the rules with Danny.’

Martha was worried. ‘Do you want to give up?’

‘No, in fact I’m seeing him again tonight. I suppose I’m just reminding myself to be careful.’

‘How’s it going?’

‘Too soon to say. Danny’s agenda gets clearer all the time. Everything I said about him at the trial’s been systematically contradicted.’

‘Convincingly?’

Tom hesitated. ‘Persuasively. But he hasn’t got on to the murder yet, and that’s when reality’11 start to bite. And of course at the moment he’s distracted by this other case.’

‘Well, it must be a hell of a shock to open a paper and find your own photograph there. After all these years.’

‘I suggested giving it a rest for a while, but he says he wants to press on.’

‘He needs to do it. And there mightn’t be that much time. They’ll be looking for him.’

‘Could they find him?’

‘They can find anybody. If they want to badly enough. And this is a very good story. Here are these two little thugs — and what do you know? Here’s this other little thug they’ve just let out. Are we too soft on crime? Should life mean life? It’s gold dust.’

‘It’s depressing.’

‘Yeah, well… I wish I wasn’t going.’

‘To the wedding?’

‘Yes. Though it’s not that far. It’s only York.’ She sat brooding. ‘If it gets too bad we’ll have to move him.’

‘I don’t see the point of a false identity if it can be broken as easily as this.’

‘It’s just bad luck. He could’ve gone ten years before anything like this happened.’

Tom thought for a moment. ‘Okay. Suppose it blows up while you’re away?’

‘He’s got my mobile number. Obviously, I can’t leave it switched on all the time, but I’ll keep checking. And he’s got two emergency numbers he can ring, but that’s only if things go really pear-shaped. Anyway, he knows when to use them. There shouldn’t be a problem, and even if there is, there’s no need for you to be involved.’

‘Well, good.’ He looked round. ‘I’m trying to think if there’s anything else.’

‘We’ve got it covered, Tom. There’s no need to worry.’

‘All right.’