The Buried Circle - Jenni Mills [83]
But, of course, this isn’t the whole of his private world. Somewhere else, there’s a wife and a farmhouse. Although, if he’s in debt, maybe the farm and barns have already been sold. Or repossessed. Perhaps his wife is in a council house on the outskirts of Slough.
He flashes a bruised grin over his shoulder. ‘Sorry, have to rinse the mugs. There’s only two. Helpful in that it simplifies washing-up, but makes entertaining challenging. What brought you here?’
It hits me in the gut like a fist. I’d completely forgotten. For a moment I can’t find breath to speak.
Ed catches sight of my face. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Maybe you’d better break out the vodka again.’ Then to my horror my eyes start to fill with tears. ‘Bloody vultures. Voyeurs. Sick. Don’t know how they got hold of–’
‘This about YouTube by any chance?’
‘You know? Surprise stops the emotional leakage.
‘It’s been there a fortnight. Or, rather, it was. The Air Accident people managed to have it taken off earlier this week. I had about eight emails, sending me the link, from so-called friends.’
‘And you didn’t bother to tell me?’
‘It would have upset you. Don’t give me that look–it’s on your face that it upsets you. Only a matter of time before someone had it removed, if not the AAIB, then the family–though I bloody well hope they never heard about it. It was the last couple of minutes, mostly the crash itself, not what led up to it.’
‘You saw it?’
Ed looks uncomfortable.
‘You did, didn’t you?’
He sighs. ‘Yes, I watched it. Once, if that makes it any better.’ He picks up a tea-towel from the floor, wipes the mugs and drops a teabag into each, his back to me. ‘Shouldn’t ask this, but…’
‘Oh, my God,’ I say. ‘You want to know what I’m going to say at the inquest, don’t you? What I told the police?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘Well, yes. It would be helpful.’ He swings round to face me. ‘More to the point…Any chance you could get me a copy of the rest of the video?’
No way. I feel sick at the thought of it.
‘Jesus, Ed, even if I could…What the hell would you do with it?’
His fingers are worrying at a piece of loose skin by his thumbnail, reminding me of Martin on the first day of filming. ‘I thought I explained the shit I’m in. No money, no lawyer. If I lose my licence, I’m bankrupt for sure. Do you remember the exact conversation immediately before that last run across the crop circle? I sure as hell don’t, not word for word, but if it’s on the tape, the Air Accident Investigators will know precisely what Steve and I said to each other. I have to know what they know: it’s the only way I can plan my defence.’
‘You said OK. I remember that, I think–you said OK, like it was…a challenge.’
‘Is that all? Didn’t I say–that’s not a good idea? It’s dangerous? Nothing like that?’
‘I don’t know. You might have done. I don’t remember. But the conversation wouldn’t be on the tape anyway. We were planning to dub music and commentary over the pictures so we didn’t bother to take a feed from the headsets.’
Ed closes his eyes in relief. ‘I thought…There were screams on the YouTube piece.’
‘But muffled, right? The camera’s inbuilt microphone might’ve picked up the odd sound at high volume, but any normal chat would have been drowned on the recording by wind and engine noise.’
The kettle starts to whistle. Ed crouches to open the tiny fridge for milk. He says something I can’t hear.
‘What was that?’
‘I said, would you be prepared to back me up at the inquest if I told the coroner I warned Steve about the danger but he insisted? I know it’s a lot to ask…’
My heart stutters. ‘I can’t do that. I told you, I don’t remember who said what.’
‘It wouldn’t exonerate me but it might make a difference.’
‘You’re asking me to