Hanging Hill - Mo Hayder [142]
Zoë dusted her hands off. She touched her nose tentatively, and looked up. The clouds that all day had been loitering near the horizon had, in the last few minutes, slipped almost unnoticed across the sky, thinning themselves out in a flat, opaque blanket of grey. The air seemed to have dropped several degrees in temperature – almost as if winter had changed its mind and was coming back to claim the world.
‘Zoë?’
She turned her eyes to Sally’s. They were very dark and serious. ‘Nothing. Nothing for you to worry about.’
36
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