Chapter Seventeen
“Don’t say it’s over.”
Roman’s mother sent a text early on Monday morning to tell him she was coming to Blyham. When he explained he had to go to work, she made arrangements to meet him at lunchtime in a coffee shop close to his office. Despite the alcohol he’d consumed the day before, his low mood had nothing to do with his hangover. He’d had a fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep, and when he woke up, all he could think about was Phil’s lifeless body on the bed.
His mother was waiting when he entered the coffee shop just after one and leapt to her feet, hauling him into a tight embrace. “Oh, son, you look terrible. Have you even slept?” She pressed kisses to the side of his head, the way she used to do when he had been little.
“I did, yes.” A lie, but the truth was something he didn’t want to discuss.
She stepped back to look him over more carefully. “You’re ill. The shadows under your eyes are as black as coal. You shouldn’t be at work today.”
“I didn’t have a choice. I had to go in.”
She furrowed her brow. She seemed on the verge of making an argument before she apparently softened her stance and tried a different approach. “Then you need to eat. Sit down, and I’ll order for you. You need feeding up as well as everything else.” She picked up her purse and went to the counter without asking him what he wanted.
Sophie Ballentyne was a no-nonsense woman of forty-nine. She had been a nurse at the local hospital for as long as Roman could remember, and the firm-but-fair attitude she delivered to her patients was mirrored in her parenting. Roman didn’t argue with her. Right now, he realised he needed some of those home comforts.
He checked his phone while he waited for her to return, but still no messages from Mallon. There was nothing to stop him from calling Mallon himself, but given how the Frenchman hadn’t bothered to tell him he was back in the UK, Roman didn’t see why he should make the first move.
The local news sites and Facebook groups were full of stories about the latest murder. Roman had skimmed them at breakfast time and couldn’t bear to read them again. There had been no further developments, and it annoyed him that Phil barely got a mention. The Strangler was the sensation everyone wanted to talk about. His latest victim was little more than a side note.
His mother returned carrying a tray with two massive cappuccino mugs. “They don’t have much to choose from here. I’ve ordered you a ham and cheese panini and a chocolate brownie. They’ll bring them over when they are ready.”
He thanked her. “I’m really not that hungry.”
“Try to eat as much as you can. Please, darling, do it for me.” She settled herself in the chair across from him, and he immediately felt the scrutiny of her professional eye.
“Aren’t you working today?” he asked, emptying a sachet of brown sugar into his coffee.
“Long weekend off. I’m not back on the ward until tomorrow.” She put her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. “So, why are you at work? Given the circumstances, surely they’ll allow you some time off.”
He busied himself stirring the coffee, avoiding her intense stare. “I can’t afford to take any time off. They’re going to make redundancies at any minute. I can’t give them the slightest excuse.”
She caught her breath. “Do they know what happened to you?”
“They do.”
“And they still made you work today? Any decent employer would have sent you straight home on full pay.”
“That’s not the way it works. If you’re not there, you don’t get paid. I’m on a rolling temporary contract. They can terminate it at any time.”
“You didn’t go to university to work for a bunch of unethical shits. Tell them where to stuff their job. For God’s sake, you discovered a body less than twenty-four hours ago. If they can’t give you time off for that, they don’t deserve to have you.”
He sipped the hot coffee. His mother had been in the same job for almost thirty years. She didn’t have the first idea about current employment methods or how cutthroat the market was. “I’ve got to pay my share of the rent. I have responsibilities.”
She grimaced. “I’m not sure what you find so appealing about this city. It’s a dump. It uses people up and spits them out. You’re scraping by in a job you hate. What’s the big attraction? Come home, and you won’t have to worry about paying rent.”
“I won’t have a job, either.”
“There are plenty of opportunities in the area. There was an accountancy firm in Morpeth advertising for staff just before Christmas. You could be back doing the job you trained for rather than answering phones.”
“I don’t want to move back to Nyemouth. Not yet. You know small-town life is not for me. I love living in the city. Sure, I have a shitty job, but I’m always on the lookout for something new. I will find it eventually.”
“And if you don’t?”
“I’ll worry about that later. If I don’t find another accountancy job by the time I’m thirty, then I’ll think about leaving.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Thirty? That’s four years’ time. Your qualifications will be out of date by then.”
“I’ll do a refresher course if I have to.” He heard the irritation in his voice and fought to get it under control. It wasn’t her fault, and his mother meant well. “Can we talk about something else? I’ve got enough on my mind without going through this today.”
Their food arrived, giving him a few moments reprieve from her nagging. As the hot panini was put in front of him, Roman realised he was starving. He couldn’t remember eating anything after breakfast yesterday, and he’d had no appetite this morning. All he’d had was half a glass of orange juice.
“This looks lovely,” he said. “Thanks, Mam.” He picked up the panini and took a large bite. The sight of him eating caused his mother to visibly relax, and she started on the tuna sandwich she’d bought for herself.
“It would be nice if you could come home, even if it’s just for a few days. Your dad and I worry about you. After you were attacked last year and now this? It’s not safe. We’d love to see more of you.”
She had tried a different, softer tactic and had succeeded in laying a guilt trip on him. “I’ve got next Saturday off. I’ll see if I can make it home then.”
Her face lit up. “Come Friday night. You can get the train after work, and your dad will collect you from the station. He’ll love that. And I’ll book a restaurant for Saturday. There’s a new place just opened in the marina that I’ve been dying to try. Your brothers will come, too.”
Roman had two younger brothers, who, unlike him, had felt no urge to flee the town they grew up in. Both still lived in Nyemouth. Bryce, the youngest, had a house just two streets away from their parents. It should be enough that they were still there, but his mother was determined to bring her eldest back into the fold.
“Don’t make any huge plans. I’m not up for it. I just want to come home for a bit of peace. I don’t want all your friends pestering me for details on the murder, okay? Saturday night pizza with the family in the house will be enough.”
She nodded, smiling. “Of course. I understand, son. Having you home for a few days is enough for me.”
Roman knew it wouldn’t be. Once in Nyemouth, she would pester him to return more often, show him half a dozen job vacancies and try to tempt him with the allure of coastal living. She probably had a few single hotties lined up to convince him, too. He shouldn’t complain. He had a family who cared about him, and after recent events, a couple of days of small-town mundanity would do him good.
* * * *
That night Roman did an hour of unpaid overtime to make up for taking his full lunch break and didn’t get home until after seven. It was a relief to find the flat empty. Ashley had left a note to tell him he was going out with Patrick and would spend the night at his place but to call if he needed anything and he would come home. Roman balled up the note and threw it on the bin, relieved that he would not have to endure Patrick that night. He still needed to have the talk with Ashley about boundaries, but maybe he wouldn’t have to. The note suggested Ashley had taken the hint to keep Patrick away from him.
Roman was in no mood for company, anyway. He was exhausted. He had little idea of what he’d done at work, having gone through the entire shift on autopilot. If he was questioned about any of it tomorrow, he would not be able to answer. Right now, he didn’t care. He just wanted peace, quiet and some time alone.
He scrubbed and pricked a large potato and put it in the air fryer to cook before going to his bedroom to change. The TV was playing in the flat below, but he didn’t bother to turn his own on. He didn’t have the patience required to watch the news or any of the soaps that cluttered the schedule at this time of night. If Ashley was home, he would be glued to all the usual trash— Emmerdale, Corrie, EastEnders . Roman usually managed to tune them out, but for once he wouldn’t have to.
After changing into sweatpants and a T-shirt, he went back to the kitchen to decide what he was going to have on his baked potato. He rooted through the fridge and narrowed his options down to tuna and mayonnaise or cheese when his phone rang. He hoped it wasn’t his mother calling to make further plans for the weekend.
He glanced at the screen. Mallon .
He grabbed the phone and answered. “Hi.”
“Hello, handsome, did you miss me?” Mallon murmured in his cool, sexy accent.
It struck Roman as a strange introduction after everything that had happened. “Yeah,” he answered without enthusiasm.
“Good. I missed you. I missed your hot ass.”
Roman slumped against the counter. For the first time since they’d met, the things Mallon said did not thrill him. “When did you get back?”
“Today. I hoped we could get together tonight. Are you going to come over? You can wear your sexy pants.”
Roman stiffened at the lie. “Today? You returned to Blyham today ?”
“Hey, what’s wrong? I thought you’d want to see me. I want to see you.”
“Do you have any idea of what has happened?” Roman clenched his jaw. Is this guy for real?
“What happened? No…I’ve been working.” A defensive tone crept into his voice.
“The latest murder. Phil Logan, the manager of Julie’s. Even you can’t have missed it. It’s all over the news.”
“Oh, well, sure. Yes, of course. You knew him?”
Unbelievable . “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
Roman inhaled and let it out slowly. “Yes, Mallon, I knew him. I was one of the people who found his body.”
Now he heard Mallon take a fast breath. “You… Shit . Are you all right? Did anything happen to you?”
“Of course I’m all right,” he said, suddenly impatient. “I’m alive, aren’t I? Phil isn’t so fortunate.”
“I had no idea. Of course, I read about the murder this morning, but the report didn’t give any details. They never mentioned you. I would have called much sooner if I’d known. I’m so sorry, Roman.”
“Whatever.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you.”
Roman straightened, possessed by anger. “Oh, really? Call you in France? Is that where you were yesterday? Or were you having coffee down on the riverside?”
There was a long beat before he answered. “All right, I’m sorry. You’re right. I came back late on Saturday night. I…I should have called, but I needed time. I was working, too, over the weekend. I couldn’t have seen you, but if I’d known what you’d been through, I would have been there for you.”
“Let me get this right… You got back on Saturday, but you didn’t call me until now. We’ll overlook the blatant lie you told me earlier. What changed between Saturday and now? I guess you weren’t horny then and only remembered to call me when you were lonely and needed a hole to fuck.”
“That’s not the way I think about you,” Mallon said in a rush.
“Isn’t it? It certainly feels that way. You’re only interested in me when you want to get off. I don’t sit around waiting for your booty calls, if that’s what you think. I have a life, friends, things to do. I wouldn’t have demanded to see you just because you were back, but a text at some point over the weekend would have been nice, instead of having to hear you were back from somebody else.”
“Roman, I’m sorry, I should have—”
“Just…just save your breath. I’m exhausted. You know that. This is one drama I can do without. I don’t know what you think of me, Mallon. Sometimes I think it’s just sex, and other times I feel there’s something stronger there.”
“There is. I promise there is.”
He sighed. “You’ve got a strange way of showing it.”
“Let me prove it to you now.”
“No,” he said firmly. “Not now. I don’t need you now. I don’t need you to fuck me to feel better. I need time on my own. I can do this for myself.”
“Roman, please. Don’t say it’s over.” There was a genuine note of alarm in Mallon’s voice.
“Mallon, I don’t know how it can be over when I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what I mean to you. I don’t know if we have anything in common beyond sex. I’ve got enough on my mind as it is to even think about it now, okay? Just…just leave me alone, and I’ll figure things out when I can.” Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “I need to go.”
Roman hung up before his voice gave away his emotion. Everything was so damn confusing. Could it get any worse?
He slid onto a chair, put his head and hands on the table and surrendered to the tears.