10
Z ayn
She barely mumbles a word to me on the drive from the city centre to our base at Caernbro Ghyll, and when I speak to her, all I get in return is monosyllables.
“I’ll go over to your room in Stirling to pick up your stuff. Can you let me have a list of what’s urgent?”
“Okay.”
“Is there anyone you need to tell? About not attending lectures for a week or so?”
“No.”
“Have you eaten today?”
“Not hungry.”
A whole two words. Wow!
I give up for now. It’s uphill work, and today’s events are a lot to get her head round.
I pull onto the Caernbro Ghyll forecourt at the same time as Jack’s Range Rover. He gets out, gives me a wave, then goes round to the rear passenger door and carefully lifts his two-year-old daughter out of her car seat in the back. His partner, Ruth, hops out of the passenger side and immediately rushes around to greet us.
“Jack said you’d be staying with us for a while. It’s Leila, isn’t it? I’m Ruth, and that little angel is Faith. She’s two.”
“I…I…”
Seems Leila can’t even rustle up so much as one word for Ruth.
“I was just showing Leila her new home,” I interject.
“Temporary home,” Leila mutters, before turning her attention to Jack. “I wonder, could you ask Mr Savage to keep my room open for me? I’ll continue paying the rent…”
“What rent?” he replies. “But I’ll tell him.” He turns to regard me. “I need a chat, in my office, as soon as you’re free.”
“Give me half an hour or so.”
“No need for that,” Ruth interrupts us. “I can show Leila round. You can keep Faith occupied for a while, Jack, can’t you?”
Jack grins and jiggles the toddler on his hip. “We’ll have fun. She can play while we talk. That okay with you, Zee?”
“Sure, as long as I get a go with the music book.” Faith’s favourite toy at the moment is a nursery rhyme board book with a small keyboard attached to it with instructions for how to play the tunes. ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ is my speciality.
“We’ll see.” Jack is already striding towards the house while Faith grabs at his shirt collar.
“Wait! I was thinking, maybe…”
Jack halts at the sound of Leila’s voice and turns. “Is there a problem?”
Leila stiffens beside me. “Well, yes.” She chews on her lower lip, clearly far more intimidated by Jack than she was by me. I need to work on that. She continues. “Perhaps. I was thinking, well, after this latest…thing, maybe I should go to the police. Zayn said that with the video, they’d get years in jail. They couldn’t bother me then, and I’d have no need to trouble you. I could go back home and just get on with things.”
Jack takes the few paces back to where we are standing. “No,” he replies. “No. I don’t think so.”
“But the video…”
“Would implicate us as well as your family.”
“As witnesses. You rescued me. You’d be heroes, not suspects.”
Jack shakes his head. “We generally prefer the police to give Caraksay a wide berth. We find that suits everyone.”
“But, if you want to stay out of it, I could tell them I have no idea who rescued me or where they lived.”
“It’s obvious the video was taken from somewhere. Any IT boffin could work out where.”
Leila falls silent, then, “This is about protecting Zayn, isn’t it? He injured my uncle, put him in a wheelchair.”
“That, too, though there’s no evidence linking any of us to that unfortunate incident.”
“But there must be. My uncle…”
Jack shakes his head. “No, there isn’t. You see, Ms Mansour, we are very, very good at what we do. Your uncle deserved what happened to him, leave it at that. So, no police. You can rely on us to make sure your cousins don’t bother you again, and in the meantime, you’ll remain here. Is that all?”
He waits. Even Faith is silent suddenly. “Well? Are we clear?”
Leila manages a brief but obviously reluctant nod. “Very well. It seems I have no choice.”
Jack’s lip quirks in the most fleeting of smiles. “So, we’re done here. Zee?”
“With you in a sec.” I give Leila a wink and what I hope is an encouraging smile. “You’ll be okay with Ruth. I’ll see you later.”
“But—”
“Come on, we’ll start downstairs. You need to know where the kitchen is, and the spa.” Ruth links arms with Leila and tugs her towards the house. “I hear you’re a medical student. Sounds like hard work…”
“So, these two jokers?” Upstairs in his office, Jack lifts Faith onto his lap and offers her half a chocolate finger biscuit from the stash he keeps in the drawer of his desk for just such occasions. “What are your thoughts?”
“They were warned,” I reply. “I told Abdul there would be no more chances.”
“Fair enough. It’s obvious they’re slow learners, so no more warnings. What do you know about them? Their habits? Their movements?”
“Fuck all. Yet. I was thinking I’d get Frankie on it.”
“He’s back at uni right now, but Casey is at Caraksay.”
“Even better. I’ll give her a ring.” What Casey Savage doesn’t know about online surveillance would fit on the back of a stamp and still leave space for ayat al-kursi and a dozen more passages from the Quran.
“Do that. Come up with a plan, then come back and tell me what you intend to do. If you need backup…”
“Understood. Thanks, boss.” I leave him to negotiate with a determined two-year-old about the appropriate number of chocolate fingers to consume at one sitting when she hasn’t had her tea yet. Rather him than me.
Leila
Caernsbro Ghyll is huge. And imposing. My new friend, Ruth, provides a potted history as we wander around.
“The first and second floors are converted into apartments. There are twelve altogether, and six guest rooms.”
“I see. So, a lot of people live here?”
“About thirty, including partners and children. The kitchen is this way.”
We find ourselves in what must be the largest kitchen I’ve ever seen. Three of those classy pot sinks line one wall, and as well as what I’m told is an Aga on the wall opposite, there are three microwaves in a row on one of the granite worktops.
“Jenna, that’s Tony’s wife, occasionally cooks for everyone, but mostly we just look after ourselves. The larder is through there.” She indicates a door in a corner. “Just help yourself and make a note of what you had. We send in a grocery order every two weeks and Tesco delivers. Same with the fridge and freezers. They’re through there, in the utility.”
She leads me over to another door and opens it to reveal the customary three washing machines and a massive dryer, along with a walk-in fridge and massive chest freezer.
“Most of the men have their own microwave and kettle in their apartments, probably small fridges, too. But generally, we all come down here. It’s more sociable, but it does get busy, especially with kids all over the place.”
I can imagine, and I cross my fingers that Zayn has a microwave and a fridge of his own. The communal approach might be a bit overwhelming.
“Don’t worry about the food. There’s a halal shelf in the fridge; Zayn requested it a while back. If there’s anything you want and it isn’t there, put it on the list and either me or Jenna will order it in.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “Who do I pay?”
“No one, it’s all part of the house running costs and covered by the firm.”
“Oh. I?—”
“Through here is the lounge. There’s a big television and music system, but most of us have our own TVs so it tends to be quiet in here. The games room next door, mind, that’s different.”
She opens a huge carved door at the far end of the lounge, and at least a dozen heads turn. I recognise one or two. Rome, Tony, and couple of other familiar faces from my brief stay on Caraksay. Bigger than the lounge, this room has two full-sized snooker tables, a bank of slot machines and pinballs, a dart board, and a well-stocked bar.
“The bar’s free as well, but woe betide anyone who gets pissed,” Ruth warns as we close the door and continue on our way. “Jack insists that everyone is ready for duty, whatever, whenever.”
“No time off?” I wonder aloud.
“Nope. Business is business. That door over there is my husband’s office…” She pauses, listening. “Sounds like Faith is giving him a hard time.”
“Should we?—?”
“No, he’ll be fine. The apartments are up here.”
I follow her up the first flight of stairs. The main staircase is wide, carpeted, with a gleaming carved handrail. I imagine the young Ethan and his brother sliding down it.”
“These are the slightly larger apartments,” Ruth tells me when we reach the first-floor landing. “Two or three bedrooms, for families. Me and Jack are in number three. Tony and Jenna have four, and Rome and Amina have number six. Ethan and Cristina or Aaron and Beth tend to use number five on the odd occasions they stay over here. You’re this way.”
We ascend another, slightly narrower and less ornate staircase to the second-floor landing.
“These are all studio-type flats. Okay for singles and couples. You’re in number eight, second door along.” She leads the way to the second door on the right. “Nice view of the gardens at the back,” she informs me, opening the door and gesturing me inside.
“Isn’t it locked?” I’m surprised.
“No need. The house itself is very secure, and everyone respects each other’s privacy, so this works okay. Can you find your own way around?”
The flat consists of just one room, admittedly large. A king-size bed flanked by wardrobes occupies the space by the bay window. At the other end of the room is a seating area with a two-seater settee, a coffee table, and a portable TV. A basic kitchenette is tucked into an alcove, and I’m pleased to see that Zayn does indeed have a microwave, a toaster, and a kettle.
“There’ll be milk in the fridge. Get more from downstairs when you need it. Bread, too. You won’t fit much in the fridge; he probably filled it with beers anyway. Other stuff will be in the cupboards. I’ll leave you to check all that out.” She smiles brightly. “Is there anything else you need right now?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Except…”
“What?”
“There…there’s no spare room. Just the one bed.”
“Yes,” she answers, “is that a problem?”
“We don’t… I mean, we haven’t… We never…”
“Oh. I see.” Her amused grin suggests she doesn’t see at all.
“I can’t… I mean, he won’t want me to…”
She shrugs. “You’ll sort it out, I’m sure. Remember, I’m in number three downstairs. Just give me a knock if you think of anything. Or you could phone me.” She rattles off her mobile number. “Zayn has all our numbers if you need them.”
“I…thank you.”
“I’d best get off and rescue Jack before he stuffs our daughter full of chocolate biscuits. I’ll see you downstairs soon enough, I daresay.”
I barely have time to stammer out another ‘thank you’ before she’s hurrying off to relieve her husband. I’m left alone in this strange, alien room, studying the huge double bed and wondering how on earth I ended up here.
I don’t have long in which to contemplate that question. Less than five minutes later, while I’m still engaged in investigating the contents of his cupboards, Zayn saunters in.
“I’ll bring some of your stuff over as soon as I can. Meanwhile, help yourself to anything of mine.”
I whirl to face him. “I don’t have any clothes, only what I’m wearing.”
“Write me a list. I’ll drive over to Stirling later.”
“I could go…”
“Not happening. Not until this is sorted.” He strolls over to the kitchen area and flicks the switch on the kettle. “Coffee? I don’t have any tea up here, but I could get some.”
“I don’t want anything right now. Thanks.”
“Fair enough. Did Ruth show you round?”
“Yes. It’s…it’s a nice house.” Not that I intend to become too familiar with it. “I’ll stay here for a day or two, if you really think that’s best, but I have an exam on Friday. Toxicology. It’s my final exam this year, and I need to pass it to move on to clinical practice next year. I can’t miss it.”
“Where is it happening?”
“In the department.”
“What time?”
“Two o’clock until five.”
“Okay, we’ll be there.”
“We?”
“You and me.” He grins as he pours hot water into his mug. “You didn’t imagine you’d be going alone, did you?”
“But you can’t…”
“We’ll see. Do you need anything to revise for it? Notes or suchlike?”
“Just internet access. I did it all on my laptop. It’s in my bag.” My university bag was with me when he waylaid me at the bus station. “I think it’s in your car.”
“I’ll bring it up.” He scribbles a series of letters and numbers onto an envelope that was lying on the table. “This is the Wi-Fi password. Is there anything else?”
“No. I mean, yes.”
“Okay?” He sips his coffee and winces.
“Where am I to sleep?” I demand. “There’s only one bed.”
“This is true. It’s a big bed, though, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Are you serious?”
“Oh, yes. Perfectly serious.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I protest. “Or you could.”
“I don’t think so. Have you seen the size of that thing?”
“But we can’t. You know we can’t. You said it yourself when…when…”
“Sharing a bed is just that. Sharing a bed. It doesn’t have to be anything more. Unless you have other ideas, in which case you have only to say.”
“Me? Say?”
He nods and tries his coffee again. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”
“What are you talking about?”
“A coffee. It’s only instant, but good stuff.”
“Fuck the coffee,” I snap. “It was you who said?—”
The memory of that mortifying episode on Caraksay still makes me shudder. I totally humiliated myself, threw myself at him. I practically begged him, but he turned me down flat. “You should just make up your mind.”
“I have. Things are different now. Moved on, you might say.”
Different? Moved on? “What’s different?” I demand.
“Well, to start with, you’re two years older. And you haven’t just survived a murder attempt. I’ll agree that the photograph and being stalked by insane cousins who mean you harm would be upsetting, but as far as I can tell, there’s no reason to suppose you might be in shock and not thinking straight.”
“It’s you who’s not thinking straight if you think?—”
“Okay, okay. Like I said, it’s your choice.” He sets his cup down on the worktop and advances on me. “You have my mobile number. WhatsApp me a list of what you need. Keys?” He holds out his hand.
“Keys? What bloody keys?”
“To your room. In Stirling. I’ll just fetch your bag from the car, then I’ll go over there now.”
Utterly confused, I fish in my pocket and hand over my door keys. “It’d be easier if I came along.”
“No. You make yourself comfortable. Have a bath, a shower, go downstairs for a game of snooker if you’re so inclined.”
“I’m not.”
He tilts his head to one side. “You know, this really isn’t so bad.”
“Easy for you to say. Your life hasn’t been turned upside down.”
“At least you still have a life, and I mean to keep it that way. Things will be back to normal soon.”
Normal? I’m beginning to doubt if things will ever be normal again.
He bows his head, tipping my face up towards his. The brush of his lips on mine is featherlike but sends a shiver through my entire body.
“Until later, may-ri-jaan .”