Darkside_ A Novel - Belinda Bauer [117]
'Steven! Talk to me, please! What happened? What's wrong?'
Finally the boy turned his haunted eyes towards her.
His lips trembled as he whispered:
'Nothing.'
*
Reynolds laid out his case on the cheap brown bedspread.
He had almost everything he needed.
He could hardly wait until the case here was officially closed so that he could go and see the Chief Super with his damning evidence. The thought of how that interview would unfold consumed Reynolds like porn.
'Sir, could I speak to you on a matter of some delicacy?'
He knew there might not be an actual promotion in snitching on his boss, but he was sure there would be some benefits for him somewhere down the line.
He anticipated taking Lucy Holly's statement with pure pleasure. At last, hearing critical words coming out of a mouth other than his. Around colleagues he'd always been discreet, but every little eye-roll, every murmur of discontent, every sudden cessation of chatter when Marvel walked past, he'd squirrelled away like winter nuts to sustain him whenever he felt he was all alone and that nobody else noticed what was going on. Even now the Senior Investigating Officer was probably knocking it back in the musty farmhouse with Joy Springer. It made Reynolds ashamed to be a policeman.
He hoped Lucy Holly would remember lots more about her confrontation with Marvel when she made her statement. What she had told him on the phone was good enough, but he would draw more from her. Nuances, looks, implied threats. Reynolds wanted them all, like an egg collector wants to shake a rare bird through a tiny hole in a shell.
He put his notes and Lucy's statement away in their folder, then turned on Mastermind.
*
Steven sat at the kitchen table with his hands around the first cup of tea he had ever accepted from Lucy Holly.
He was wearing a pair of Jonas's trousers. She had told him where to find some in the bedroom cupboard. It had been strange opening the Hollys' wardrobe, but no stranger than opening their front door. He'd tried several pairs before he found some newly washed jeans which were only too big, rather than ridiculous, and rolled them up, then cinched them with his school belt.
He'd put his trousers and underwear in the laundry basket, as she'd told him to, and gone back downstairs to the sound of the kettle whistling.
Now they sat on opposite sides of the table and Steven watched Mrs Holly pretending she was OK. He knew she wasn't. He'd seen her hands shake while making tea and he'd seen her wince as she put her cup to her broken lip.
He had registered these things but had detached himself from thinking about them too hard. Instead he had become a vague little ball with a shiny shell, so that he could protect himself. He knew now that that was his job, and his alone.
She smiled faintly at him, so he moved his mouth in response.
'You haven't drunk your tea,' she said.
It was no longer hot, but Steven drank it anyway - for her - and saw that this gift made her smile much better.
'I want you to have this,' she said, getting up and rummaging in a cupboard. She took out a tin and removed the lid with difficulty, then handed him a thick wad of PS20 notes, so he took it, even though it made his stomach roll over. It made him think of his nan sellotaping names to her nick-nacks, so they'd all know who was getting what when she died.
Then Mrs Holly said 'thank you' and 'goodbye' and hugged him so hard that it squeezed tears from his eyes, which slid down his nose and fell on to her blue sweater.
Halfway down the hill Steven stopped and took the notes out of his pocket and fanned them out. Even in the dark he could see there was about PS600.
He drew his arm back and threw the notes hard into the night sky, where the biting wind whipped them away.
Then he put his head down and walked on through a blizzard of snow and money.
After Steven left, Lucy took the knife Jonas had given her, and inched slowly upstairs with it.
Steven had left the cupboard open and several pairs of Jonas's uniform trousers on the bed. Leaning her