Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
L uke had no trouble finding the area of York known as the shambles. There was plentiful signage in the city centre and they all seemed keen to direct him to the cobbled shopping street. It was easy to see why it was a tourist draw. The beautifully-preserved medieval buildings and attractive shop fronts were picturesque as hell. It was also simple to find the place where the Shambles Book Emporium had stood. What wasn’t easy to understand was how the police hadn’t marked the fire as ‘highly fucking suspicious’. The space where the bookshop had stood was a boarded-up space, but the buildings on either side looked essentially untouched. Luke didn’t know enough about fires to know for sure, but it seemed weird that it hadn’t spread. Especially in old structures. Perhaps fire-safety measures had been installed over the years. There was also still a distinct smell of charred wood and soot in the air.
Further up the cobbled street, past a fudge shop and a place that sold handmade miniature statues of ghosts, he found a pub. Inside the tavern, which wasn’t just ‘ye olde style’ but ‘actually extremely old, thank you very much’, was inviting. It had gleaming brass fixtures, a polished bar, and a large wood burner. If he hadn’t been on a mission, he could have happily hunkered down for the evening and worked his way through the forty-two craft beers they listed on a large chalkboard. Instead, he ordered an alcohol-free pint and asked the man who served him about the bookshop. Small talk wasn’t Luke’s strongest suit, but he had developed a few techniques while looking for his brother. He leaned against the bar and asked: ‘How’s business this time of year?’
‘Not bad,’ the guy replied. He had a neatly tended short beard and was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a velociraptor and the words ‘clever girl’ underneath.
‘Shame about that fire. The bookshop. You can still smell the smoke out there.’
‘Yeah.’ The guy shook his head. ‘Makes you think. The place was full of paper, but still. Wouldn’t have thought it would have gone up like that.’ He looked around the wood-filled room and the fire leaping merrily in the burner. ‘Makes you think.’
‘Do they know who did it?’
‘Oh, man. You didn’t hear?’
Luke shook his head.
He lowered his voice. ‘Guy killed himself.’
Luke played dumb. ‘Really? Doesn’t seem like a good way to go… Not that there’s a good way, but you know what I mean.’
‘Pills or something? I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Can I get you anything else?’
‘Do you do food?’ Luke asked, purely to prolong the conversation.
The man fetched a menu and slid it across the bar. Luke sat on a stool and scanned it while the barman served a couple.
When he came back, Luke asked for a packet of dry roast peanuts from the display behind the bar. ‘Did you know the guy?’
‘Graham? A bit. York’s not that big. And all the businesses along here keep in touch. We run group promotions and stuff like that. Graham’s heart wasn’t in it over the last few months, though.’
‘Is that why you think he did it? You’d noticed he was down?’
‘He wasn’t just down, he was distressed.’ The man leaned his elbows on the bar. ‘One of his regular customers topped himself. He took it really badly.’
‘God,’ Luke said. ‘That’s rough. Do you know the man who died?’
‘Not really. I recognised him when I saw it in the paper. He was one of the mental ones. Not supposed to say that, now, are we? He was weird, though. Intense guy.’
‘And you think Graham was really upset about this customer dying?’
‘That’s why he did himself in. It was the last straw, I reckon. Graham had been down for a while, like I said, but that business must have just tipped him over.’
Sitting in The Rising Moon with Fiona, Esme was reminded that her own problems were petty and inconsequential. Fiona had been in a bad marriage. Her husband had terrorised her son and she would carry the guilt for that for the rest of her life. Esme knew fine well how that felt. She had often counted her blessings that she hadn’t fallen pregnant while with Ryan.
‘He’s going to be okay,’ she said. ‘He’s got you.’
Fiona nodded briskly. The conversation had clearly got too touchy-feely for her practical nature and she looked ready to change the subject.
‘And me,’ Esme added. Keen to get it in before they moved on.
She smiled at that. ‘Thank you.’
Seren stopped by their table on her way back to the kitchen. ‘Anything else?’
‘Has she been in today?’
Seren shook her head. ‘Not so far.’
The door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. Tobias entered, Winter close on his heels. There were general greetings and a burst of conversation. Esme was almost too distracted to notice when Kate Foster arrived. Almost. She felt a rush of energy at the realisation that she wasn’t with Luke. Wherever he had gone, it wasn’t with her. And that was something.
‘What can I get for you?’ Seren asked the newcomer. ‘It’s butternut squash and chilli soup or venison pie.’
‘Or both,’ Tobias said, patting his flat stomach. Winter was pressed against his side and Tobias shooed him toward his usual spot in front of the large fireplace. The dog seemed reluctant to leave his master, whining pitifully until Tobias walked over to the fire with him. Winter’s gait was staggered and he collapsed rather than lying down.
‘I’ve already eaten, I’m afraid,’ Kate Foster replied. ‘More’s the pity. It smells amazing in here.’
Seren smiled, pleased. ‘Drink?’
‘Is it too early for a G and T?’
‘We don’t judge around here,’ Seren said.
‘Join us,’ Fiona said and Esme felt her chest tighten.
She chided herself for being unfriendly. It wasn’t Kate’s fault that Luke liked her. It wasn’t her fault that she looked like the perfect example of modern womanhood. That she exuded youthful beauty and spoke with the kind of careless confidence that made you think she was smarter than she was.
Now, that’s not kind, Esme chided herself again. She might be just as smart as she sounded. Or smarter. Just because a woman happened to be beautiful didn’t mean she deserved judgement. Esme was a feminist. She believed in the sisterhood. She was not going to allow petty jealousy and years of social conditioning by the patriarchy twist her into bitterness or force her to see other women as rivals. That was misogynist bollocks and she was better than that.
‘I love your outfit.’ Kate chose that moment to speak.
It took Esme a second to realise that she was addressing her. ‘Thanks.’
‘It’s so cute.’
And there it was. The unmistakable note of derision under the words. Kate Foster obviously hadn’t heard the sisterhood pep talk.
‘We dress for comfort here,’ Fiona said, seemingly oblivious to Kate Foster’s Mean Girls impression. ‘Or I do, at any rate.’
‘Very sensible,’ Kate said, making it sound like an insult.
Esme blinked. She knew that tone. Had encountered it at school and in group homes. She knew the technique. But she was an adult now. And Fiona was her friend. ‘When you’re as naturally stunning as Fi, you don’t have to make an effort,’ she said, smiling warmly at Fiona. ‘It’s not fair.’
Fiona looked uncertain and her cheeks pinked. ‘Don’t make fun.’
‘I’m not,’ Esme said airily. ‘More’s the pity. You have luminous skin and eyes to drown in.’ Too late, she realised that was possibly an unfortunate turn of phrase, given Fiona’s true nature.
Fiona was laughing, though. Delighted. ‘Too right,’ she said with a tinge of satisfaction.
Kate Foster was watching the exchange with a small furrow between her perfectly shaped brows.
‘You’ve got great skin, too,’ Esme said generously to the newcomer. ‘Honestly, it looks airbrushed. But in real life.’
Kate nodded, still slightly stunned. ‘Thank you.’ She looked at Seren, who had just arrived to take Esme and Fiona’s plates. ‘And you have incredible eyebrows. You must give me the name of your person.’
Seren shook her head. ‘I do them myself.’ She piled the plates and placed the cutlery on top. ‘And I’m not taking on clients. I’ve got enough to bloody do with the pub.’
‘Fair enough,’ Kate said, looking genuinely disappointed.
Once Seren had left, Fiona asked Esme whether she had any spare paper and pencils. ‘Not your good stuff, obviously. I just wanted some around for Euan. He mentioned some YouTube person who did painting tutorials.’
‘I’ll put a box together. I’ve got some acrylic paint and brushes, pastels…’
‘Not your good stuff,’ Fiona repeated, looking alarmed. ‘Just some bits to start him off. I don’t even know if he will want to. He might just like watching them.’
‘Like Bob Ross.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Happy to encourage him having a go,’ Esme said. ‘And I’ve way more supplies than I’ll ever use. I always over-order.’
‘You paint?’ Kate asked, and Esme braced herself for the putdown.
‘Just for fun,’ she said. It was a lie. She painted because she felt compelled to do so. The enjoyment was part of it, but that came in flashes and usually after having painted. Not during.
‘Interesting,’ Kate said and pursed her lips. ‘You’re a dark horse.’
Fiona left at the same time as Esme. They paused by the door, pulling on coats and hats for their short walks home.
‘Euan’s babysitting, I don’t want to be late,’ Fiona was saying.
Esme was only half-listening as she was watching Kate Foster out of the corner of her eye. She was at the bar, chatting to Seren. The older woman was usually too busy at this time of the evening, but she had paused in her tasks to give Kate her full attention. There was something magnetic about Kate, Esme supposed. Magnetic, beautiful, interesting. That had to be why she couldn’t stop looking. She pushed down the feeling of foreboding.
‘Where’s Luke tonight?’ Fiona asked as they pushed out of the warmth of the pub and into the cold smack of the evening air.
‘I’m not sure, but I would guess York. There have been fires in bookshops and he’s investigating.’ They had been investigating, she thought. Together.
‘Investigating?’ Fiona paused. ‘That sounds very formal.’
‘You know what happened with the book? He doesn’t want it to happen to anybody else. He’s trying to work out where it came from.’
‘It’ll be a freak occurrence, surely? Just a mistake. One dangerous book amongst thousands that are fine.’
Fiona seemed so sure it was tempting to accept that version of events. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘I’ve got to go,’ Fiona said apologetically. ‘You’re welcome to come with?’
‘Are you sure?’ Esme said. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be good company this evening.’
Fiona waved off this objection and they began the short walk together. ‘There’s something else I have been meaning to say… about Euan.’ She spoke quickly, as if wanting to get the words out before they reached her home.
‘Is he all right?’
Fiona smiled at her concern. ‘Just a friendly warning. Don’t approach him when he’s near the sea. Wait to see if he greets you.’
‘Okay,’ Esme said, thinking guiltily of the previous night when she had walked up to talk to Euan on the beach.
‘He might be about to change, and that’s a dangerous time. Until he’s got used to it, anyway. And then he’ll choose when it happens. Until then, it’s not so controlled and his instincts will be all over the place. The animal part of him might perceive company as a threat and that wouldn’t be good.’
‘No. Right. Got it.’
Fiona’s smile was strained. ‘I don’t want you to be frightened of him. He would never intentionally hurt anybody.’
‘I know that,’ Esme said. ‘We need to protect him.’
Fiona’s smile softened. ‘That’s exactly it.’