The Black Sheep

  I sat back. What the hell did that mean?

  7

  Revelations was a strange choice of bar, I thought. Dex loved the place, with its wrought-iron furniture and pseudo-religious erotic iconography dotted around the walls. To me it seemed both over-ornate and trying too hard to be shocking. Not that I really cared where we met. What mattered was trying to put everything about PAAUL and Dad and Caspian’s death out of my mind and seeing if Harry and I had any kind of potential future.

  I wandered over to the bar, my eyes flitting over the smattering of customers to see if anyone else was here yet. Maybe Dex was right about Harry liking me – it certainly explained why he’d tried to help me investigate PAAUL. But I was still wary. I hadn’t seen myself as a sexual being for such a long time it was hard to believe anyone else might. Plus I needed to know why Harry’s name hadn’t been on that list of conference delegates. And I also had to factor in Lucy’s interest in him. I sighed. Dex would say I was getting ahead of myself, overthinking it. But it was hard to know what to do.

  I vaguely recognised a few of Dex’s friends across the room but neither Harry nor my sister and Ayesha were here yet and I decided to stay by the bar until they arrived. Dex himself wasn’t present either but then Dex was habitually late for everything. As I ordered a white wine spritzer my phone beeped with a text from Lucy explaining she was running late. Ayesha, I knew, was still on her way from work. I settled into the nearest booth and sipped at my drink. Madonna’s ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ gave way to Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Hungry Heart’ in the background. They were weird choices for such a trendy bar, weren’t they? Or had we stumbled across an eighties night?

  ‘Hello.’ Harry appeared at the end of the booth, eyes twinkling, a bottle of beer in his hand. He was underdressed for the bar, in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, but the clothes looked perfect on him.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, my throat tightening. I gestured to the seat opposite and Harry slid into it.

  ‘How’ve you been?’ I asked.

  ‘Hard at work,’ Harry said.

  ‘At Devora Pharmaceuticals?’ I realised my fingers were digging into my palms and released them. ‘They let you wear jeans?’

  ‘Dress-down Friday.’ Harry smiled, but there was something guarded in his expression. I hesitated a fraction, then ploughed on.

  ‘You don’t act like a sales rep.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘You don’t seem . . . I dunno . . . slick enough.’

  Harry laughed.

  I frowned. ‘Slick’ wasn’t exactly what I’d meant, but I couldn’t put my finger on what that was. There was an air of adventure about him, a recklessness. Which meant what? A sense of foreboding shivered through me.

  ‘Not slick is good, no?’ he asked.

  I shrugged. What was the matter with me? I should just come straight out and ask him.

  ‘I . . . I was going through Caspian’s things and I found the programme from the conference you were both at.’ I looked straight into Harry’s dark-brown eyes. ‘Your name isn’t on the list of delegates.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, without missing a beat. He rolled his eyes. ‘Conference admin cocked up. They were very apologetic.’

  We looked at each other as the music swirled around us. Another track came on, a tune I’d heard on the radio recently but couldn’t name. Was Harry telling the truth? He had answered me fast. Which surely meant he hadn’t had time to make up an answer.

  Unless he’d already prepared one.

  No, that was taking me to insane levels of paranoia. I gave myself a shake. I had to stop seeing subterfuge and lies at every turn.

  ‘What’s this about?’ Harry asked. ‘I understand you’re on edge because of what we found, but . . . don’t you trust me?’

  ‘It’s hard to trust anyone, not in a world where people get taken away from you in the blink of an eye.’ I looked down. For goodness’ sake. I sounded hysterical, more like Lucy than myself.

  There was a long pause, then Harry reached for my hand. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you whatever you want.’

  His fingers felt warm on mine.

  ‘Just tell me the truth,’ I said.

  ‘Okay.’ Harry didn’t take his eyes off me. ‘This means something . . . being here with you.’

  My heart bumped in my chest.

  ‘And maybe there are things . . .’ He hesitated. ‘Things I haven’t said but I want you to know that—’

  ‘Hey, guys!’ Ayesha loomed over us. I snatched my hand away from Harry’s but I could see from the look in her eye that Ayesha had clocked our linked fingers. ‘Having fun?’ She grinned, sliding into the booth beside me. She was dressed in a silky red dress and high heels, a slash of scarlet on her lips.

  ‘Where’s Lucy?’ I asked, hoping the dim lighting was concealing my blush. A new song rang out. This one was a Hozier track. I knew it because Rufus played it constantly.

  ‘Bar.’ Ayesha’s gaze flickered sideways to where Lucy was drifting across the half-empty room towards us, an ice bucket containing a bottle of white wine in her hand. A young waiter followed behind with a tray of glasses.

  My sister was dressed, as usual, in white. Her dress was made from a soft fabric, similar to Ayesha’s, that clung to her, floating around her as she walked. The effect, however, was very different. Next to Ayesha with her sexy curves, Lucy looked positively angelic – far younger than her years. As she set down the ice bucket she shot a shy glance at Harry, looking up at him coyly through her eyelashes.

  I remembered what she’d told me about fancying him and felt both guilty and annoyed. Had she seen us holding hands? Should I care if she had?

  ‘Franny?’

  I realised Ayesha was speaking and turned my head.

  ‘How’s work?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine,’ I said absently. God, it was too much: my worries about Dad and PAAUL had given me enough grief this week without all the additional turmoil over whether or not I should get together with Harry. Surely, if it was the right thing it would feel simpler. I glanced up. Harry was still looking at me, an infuriatingly sexy and mischievous smile in his eyes. Desire surged through me.

  And hope. Maybe everything was going to be all right? Dad was innocent, I was sure of that. And Dex was right that knowing who killed Caspian wouldn’t bring him back.

  If Harry liked me, I should give him a chance. Lucy would surely understand.

  ‘How ’bout you, Harry?’ Ayesha went on.

  ‘I’d rather hear about Fran’s work,’ he said, raising his eyebrows as he gazed at me. ‘I realised earlier I don’t really know what you do.’

  ‘I work in event management,’ I said.

  ‘She’s basically a fundraiser,’ Ayesha added. ‘Ace at getting money and promises out of people.’

  ‘I’m sure she is.’ Harry smiled. ‘What kind of projects d’you work on, Fran?’

  ‘It’s all business to business: conferences, product launches, award ceremonies.’ I shrugged. Work was the last thing I wanted to talk about, I’d certainly paid very little attention to the project I was supposed to be progressing this week; distracted when working from home on Tuesday, then coasting through a series of meetings in the office today and yesterday.

  ‘How did you get into that?’ Harry went on.

  ‘After Mum died I thought about being a therapist for a while. Even started a course in bereavement counselling – my degree’s in psychology so I was always interested, but it wasn’t for me.’

  ‘Mmn, I guess bereavement counsellor might be a bit of a downer at parties,’ Harry said. ‘People telling you about their losses over the canapés.’

  Ayesha laughed then turned to help Lucy with the wine.

  ‘You’re probably right.’ I smiled at Harry. ‘Like being a doctor and hearing how the man with BO who you’ve just met has a rash.’

  ‘Or an estate agent and hearing from the attractive woman in the low-cut top that she has a house wanting a valuation.’

/>   ‘Actually that sounds like it might work. For the estate agent, I mean.’

  Harry laughed. ‘Well, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I haven’t been bereaved. Ever. Unless you count a couple of hamsters when I was a kid.’

  ‘Both parents still living, then?’ I asked lightly.

  ‘Sure. Well, my mum is. I don’t know about my dad, he legged it when I was six, haven’t seen him since.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Tough.’

  ‘I don’t really think about him to be honest. Not any more,’ Harry said. ‘I think my sister got the worst of it . . .’ He sighed. ‘She’s had one bad relationship after another.’ He lowered his voice. ‘In fact Mum and I think she’s depressed. That’s why I spent the past few days there. She’s really down. Didn’t want me to go, but there’s only so much compassionate leave I can take.’ He cleared his throat. ‘To be honest with you, I called earlier to check on her and I’m a bit worried that she hasn’t rung back yet.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ At the other end of the booth Lucy was deep in conversation with Ayesha. The music surely made it impossible for them to hear what we were saying, but even so I lowered my voice. ‘I worry about my sister sometimes, she’s so . . . so other-worldly and . . .’ I stopped, feeling disloyal.

  ‘She’s the black sheep of the family, yeah?’ Harry gave a rueful smile. ‘I can relate to that.’

  ‘Actually I’ve always thought I’m more the black sheep in my family,’ I said. ‘Apart from my Uncle Graham, who’s estranged from almost everyone. The rest of them are these diehard Catholics. Well, not my cousin Dex, but he gets on with everyone anyway. Whatever, if you’d known me as a teenager you’d definitely have seen me as the outsider.’

  Harry’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘Maybe everybody thinks they’re the black sheep. Maybe—’

  Ayesha’s squeal cut through our conversation. I turned to see Dex himself at the end of the booth wearing a stylish, slim-fitting suit and a big grin. Lucy, as ever, hung back shyly while Ayesha gave Dex a massive hug. I scrambled out of the booth feeling awkward. Harry was really opening up to me. And I liked it. I glanced at Lucy. She was still standing back, head hung. She looked miserable. My heart sank. Was that because of Harry?

  ‘More drinks, ladies?’ Dex asked.

  Lucy pointed to the bottle of wine, still half full, in the middle of the table.

  ‘Oh, we can always do with more,’ I said. ‘I’ll come with you to the bar.’ I took his elbow and led him across the room. I was intending to ask him how to handle Lucy’s interest in Harry; Dex was good at things like that – he certainly had plenty of practice at dealing with lovesick admirers. But as soon as we reached the bar Dex was surrounded by three of his workmates and shooed me back to Harry with a tsk.

  Feeling troubled, I returned to the booth where Lucy was still sitting with her head bowed as Ayesha and Harry chattered together.

  Ayesha was laughing, teeth gleaming against the scarlet lipstick. That dress was perfect for her. She had a great trick of never revealing too much flesh, but always looking sexy as hell. A flash of jealousy roiled through me, hot and hurtful. I told myself not to be ridiculous.

  ‘So, Manchester?’ Ayesha asked.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Harry said.

  ‘City or United?’

  ‘City,’ Harry said. ‘Though I don’t get to many matches these days.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Lucy said, too intently.

  The others looked at her.

  ‘London has compensations,’ Harry said with a twinkle, glancing up at me.

  Lucy blushed. I sipped at my wine, waiting for Dex to join us. He would understand. He would help me.

  A few minutes later and Dex flopped into the booth beside Ayesha. He said something about the bar and the conversation shifted to the painted icon opposite of a heavily made-up Virgin Mary cradling a bottle of vodka.

  ‘Actually I think it’s blasphemous,’ Lucy said softly.

  An uneasy silence descended on the table. Around us glass tinkled, voices chattered and music thundered. Ayesha rolled her eyes at Lucy, who reddened and hurried off to the loo.

  ‘Got the kids this weekend?’ I asked Dex, mostly to change the subject.

  ‘Nope,’ Dex said. ‘And I can’t stay long ’cos I’m on a promise with the blonde bob over there. The one with the legs.’ He jerked his head in the direction of a pretty woman at the bar. She was wearing an extremely short skirt and thigh-high boots.

  ‘She looks like Marla,’ Ayesha said.

  ‘That’s Dex’s ex-wife,’ I explained to Harry. ‘She’s a model.’

  ‘Was a model,’ Ayesha corrected. ‘She’s a stay-at-home mum now.’

  ‘She’s a black bloody hole sucking all creative and meaningful life out of the universe,’ Dex said with a snarl. ‘Still arguing over maintenance payments even though we agreed the court order over a year ago.’

  Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘How did you meet a model?’ he asked.

  ‘She was on an early morning beach shoot in Sydney. I happened to be walking past on my way home from a club.’ Dex gave a lascivious smile. ‘I was travelling in Australia. You know how it is. All that free time when you’re a student.’

  ‘Not really.’ Harry grinned. ‘I worked on a building site the whole time I was at college.’

  I suppressed a giggle. Most men were a little intimidated by Dex with his expensive suits and breezy self-assurance, but Harry didn’t seem fazed at all.

  ‘Whatever.’ Dex shrugged. ‘Looking back, I’m certain Marla only wanted me for the visa. But at the time I was young and naïve . . .’

  Ayesha snorted.

  ‘Really?’ I laughed. ‘Was this before or after your “I only sleep with married women” phase?’

  ‘Dex is a commitment-phobe,’ Ayesha added.

  ‘What?’ Dex widened his eyes in mock protest. ‘I got married, didn’t I? I stuck it out for years, the whole thing: nappies, listening, fidelity.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Ayesha rolled her eyes.

  ‘Give us a break, Dex,’ I said. ‘You hated changing nappies, complained constantly that Marla moaned all the time and you stuck at the fidelity thing for about five minutes.’

  Ayesha roared with laughter and high-fived me. Grinning, I looked across the bar. There was no sign of Lucy. She must still be in the ladies. I felt a pang of concern. Was she all right?

  ‘At least I did kids the conventional way,’ Dex countered. ‘Not like single mum over there . . .’ He pointed at Ayesha, then turned to me, ‘. . . and shotgun wedding over here.’

  ‘You got married ’cos you fell pregnant?’ Harry asked me. ‘How old-fashioned.’

  ‘It wasn’t really like that,’ I said, feeling awkward. ‘We were already engaged.’

  I hadn’t been sure how I felt about falling pregnant at the time – I hadn’t envisaged having a baby that young – but within a few weeks it seemed like it was meant to be. Caspian had seemed the perfect choice to be a father: loyal and steady. Everyone said he’d be a great dad. Everybody liked him. That is, nobody disliked him, though Dex and he didn’t really have much in common. In fact I saw very little of my cousin for the next few years. We reconnected when his younger child was born, when his own marriage was already in difficulties.

  ‘See you guys later.’ With a wink, Dex wandered back to his friends. Ayesha headed to the ladies, from where Lucy still hadn’t returned, and Harry and I were alone again.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Simon pinner’s death,’ Harry said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. ‘It’s got to be another PAAUL assassination. It’s surely too much of a coincidence otherwise, after your Caspian dying in such a similar way.’

  I stared at him, surprised by the sudden change of conversational tack.

  ‘That’s what I told the police,’ I said. ‘But they weren’t interested.’

  ‘Right.’ Harry hesitated. ‘Fran, there’s something I need to tell you.’

  ‘Okay.’ I s
wigged my drink, feeling emboldened. ‘Spill.’

  Harry hesitated again. Across the room Dex had his arms around the leggy blonde. They were swaying in time to the music, their eyes locked. Dex was smiling, clearly enjoying the way her hips were moving under his hands. I looked away, wondering again what Dex had that made him so successful with women. I had never been jealous of anyone he’d hooked up with – Dex was like a brother to me and I had never thought of him in that way – but sometimes I felt envious of the ease with which he picked up women.

  I turned back to Harry. He was watching me and, as our eyes met, I felt a pulse of electricity thrill through me.

  What was I waiting for? I took a deep breath.

  ‘This thing you’ve got to tell me?’ I asked. ‘Could you tell me at my home?’

  Harry stared at me, and I watched, suddenly full of confidence, as the realisation of what I was suggesting dawned in his eyes and a slow smile spread across his lips. I sipped at my drink, enjoying the thrill of my own impulsiveness. It had been a long time since I’d done anything remotely spontaneous. Caspian liked to plan everything in advance, from holidays to shopping trips, and since he’d died I’d tried hard to give the kids what everyone seemed to think they most needed: steadiness and routine. As for sex . . . I could barely remember the last time.

  Oh, God. I was going to have to be naked in front of Harry. I looked up, suddenly gripped by anxiety.

  ‘Of course,’ I started, ‘if you don’t want—’

  ‘I do,’ he said. And there was such warmth and strength in his voice that my anxiety vanished.

  A moment later Ayesha’s high-pitched giggle announced her arrival back at the booth. Lucy was with her, smiling gently as Ayesha gabbled away, full of some incident they’d just witnessed in the ladies. Lucy seemed fine. Feeling reassured and wanting to make a move before they had a chance to sit down, I set my glass on the table and stood. ‘I think I’ll be off,’ I said, edging out of the booth.