The Judas Tree, page 20
Will recalled the malice in Alastair Farrow’s voice. He was much older than them, a senior prefect and captain of cricket. He was popular and respected in his peer group and the staff room. He had brown hair that flopped over his eyes and that air of confidence that came from a combination of good looks and sporting prowess. But there was a look in his eyes, the Devil’s look, Luke called it. He had a way of staring at the younger boys, nostrils flared, lip curled, as if he wanted to slice them up into bits. When the group had found them, cigarettes clamped to their mouths, cans of lager clutched in their hands, Farrow’s eyes glinted in a way that turned Will’s stomach, in a way that told him he and Luke were in serious trouble.
Farrow and the others had laughed and jeered as they drew on their cigarettes and drank from their cans.
‘Look at the little prick!’
‘Thinks he’s David fucking Bailey with that camera.’
‘What a wanker!’
‘How many of them were there?’ Harmony asked.
Her voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Five,’ he said.
Will had looped his camera over his neck and looked desperately around for an escape route. He’d glanced back at Farrow, who smiled unpleasantly and shook his head slowly. Will felt sick. He turned to look at Luke. His eyes were set like stone, staring at the boys like he wanted to kill them, his lips twitching, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides like beating hearts. ‘Don’t do anything,’ Will had pleaded silently. ‘Please don’t do anything.’
He kept telling himself they were OK, it was just Farrow and his friends having a laugh, messing about, that soon they’d get bored and leave them alone. He willed Luke to keep calm, willed him to keep his temper in check, but he could see him seething.
‘Alastair told me to give him my camera,’ he said to Harmony. A vivid image of Farrow flew into his head. The older boy putting his arm around his shoulders, drawing him close.
‘So who do we have here? David fucking Bailey and Puke Crawford – Bible Boy – hiding out in the woods like a couple of homo-hobbits.’
Will recalled the smell of his warm, sour breath laced with cigarettes and lager.
‘He said if I didn’t give him the camera they’d beat the living daylights out of us.’ He glanced at Harmony. ‘Those were his words. The living daylights.’
Harmony shook her head, lips parted, eyes reflecting her horror.
‘I didn’t want him to have it so I took it off my neck and threw it as far as I could into the bushes. I don’t know what I was thinking, looking back on it. It was only a stupid camera, but it was my favourite thing in the whole world, and the thought of him breaking it or stealing it was unbearable.’ Will sniffed and clasped his hands in front of him. ‘Anyway, Alastair Farrow didn’t like that too much.’
The older boy had angered like a wasp.
Go and get it.
But Will had stood his ground.
Farrow shoved him so hard he went down on his knees. Then a kick to the stomach. Luke began to scream.
‘Don’t hurt him! Get off him! Get off him!’
Will tried to tell him to be quiet, but was too winded to speak.
‘Alastair was …’ Will hesitated and glanced up at Harmony, who looked horrified. ‘He was hurting me. The others were laughing. Luke was screeching at them to leave me alone and all I could think was: shut up, Luke. Shut up. Stop screaming at them, you idiot. You’re making it worse.’ Will paused and laid his head back against the chair. ‘The next thing I knew Farrow was on top of me, had my face pressed into the ground. I had all these leaves and dirt in my mouth, and he was punching my head and body again and again.’ An unwelcome memory of the earth and grit in his mouth passed through Will and made him want to spit.
‘Oh my God.’ Harmony whispered the words. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Will didn’t want her sympathy. His skin crawled with guilt.
‘Luke began to make this awful sound, like some weird war cry, and he ran at Farrow and the next thing I knew he’d pushed him off me. Then I heard Alastair scream. When I looked up I saw his face was covered in blood. Luke had sliced his face open with my penknife.’
Dread filled Will as he watched Luke standing there, panting, eyes crazed, hand tightly clasping Will’s knife. The silence that fell around them was terrifying. All he could hear was the slight rustle of the wind in the leaves of the Judas tree that towered over them. Farrow’s eyes glinted. A sheen of bloodied saliva coated his lips. One side of his face was scarlet, blood flowing from a cut that ran from his eye to his chin.
You fucking bastards.
Will closed his eyes as he recalled Alastair’s words. He’d stared, horrified at the blood on the older boy’s face and the fury blazing in his eyes, lips curled back to show gritted, bloodied teeth.
‘It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it! Don’t hurt me. It was him!’
Will felt sick as he recalled the look on Luke’s gaunt face. Bewilderment and shock. Will’s hand flew up to his mouth, but it was too late, the words were out.
‘You’re pathetic, English. Get the fuck out of here.’
‘No, Will. Don’t leave me!’
Luke and Will had locked eyes.
‘You watch my back, I’ll watch yours. Remember, Will? You remember what we promised?’
Then he lifted his right hand like a Red Indian to show Will the scar that crossed his palm.
Farrow began to laugh and he shoved Will backwards.
‘You’re pathetic.’
Will remembered Luke screaming for him to help him as Farrow set upon him like a ravenous lion on a deer. But he just stood there, frozen to the spot in fear.
‘They hurt him. Badly.’
Nausea swept through Will.
Harmony stood up and walked over to him. She sat on the side of the armchair and stroked his head. He leant against her, his eyes squeezed closed trying to block out the memory of Luke’s screaming.
Her phone buzzed, the ringer on silent, the vibrations making it dance on the tabletop.
‘Sorry,’ she breathed.
She got up and turned the phone off then went back to Will and smiled softly.
‘Take the call if you want to,’ Will said.
‘No, it’s not important.’
‘I should have told you years ago. But it’s so painful thinking about it. Alastair is a bastard, but I promise you, I’m fine. He did what he did, he’s a nasty piece of work, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Some people are just arseholes.’
She nodded then wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on the top of his head. ‘I’m so sorry that happened to you.’
Will woke in the middle of the night and felt for her. She wasn’t in bed and the duvet was neatly pulled up on her side, the pillow untouched. Then he heard a soft cough from her study. He checked the time. It was quarter past two. He lay still and listened. She was talking to someone. Though he couldn’t hear her words there seemed to be a level of urgency, as if there was some sort of problem. He got out of bed, walked down the corridor, and opened the door to her study. She wasn’t on the phone, which was beside the keyboard, but her computer was on. She sat at her desk in her dressing gown and slippers. She jumped when he said her name.
‘You scared me,’ she said, with a nervous laugh. ‘Have you been there long?’
‘No, but I heard you on the phone. Is everything all right?’
‘It was Emma. What she’s doing calling at this time, I don’t know.’ She was tense; something wasn’t right. ‘She said she couldn’t sleep. She’s pretty upset, but I told her I’d call back in the morning.’
‘Anything serious?’
‘Problems with Ian. Sorry if I woke you.’
‘You didn’t. Are you coming back to bed?’
‘I don’t think I’ll get back to sleep at the moment. I’ve got so much on with work so thought I’d do a bit until I feel sleepy.’ She glanced at him with a tight smile. ‘I’ve got a small problem I need to sort out.’ She put the tip of her thumb to her mouth and chewed on it gently.
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thank you,’ she said, turning back to her computer screen. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘But then you’ll come back to bed?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘When I’ve dealt with it, I’ll come back.’
Chapter Twenty
Harmony walked into the restaurant and scanned the place for Luke. It was a huge, airy room with modern furnishings. It bustled with noise as conversation fought to be heard above the sounds of the open kitchen where a dozen sweating chefs could be seen cooking and yelling orders. She watched a flame leap a foot out of a pan, the chef turning his head and leaning back to avoid it then heaving the pan upwards a couple of times, expertly tossing the food into the air. He swept his arm across his brow and called out in rapid Italian to someone behind him. It was reassuringly busy, every table filled, and nobody noticed her as they talked avidly, laughed and ate. Her stomach buzzed with nerves. Luke had called seven times yesterday and sent a handful of texts, each of them incriminating should Will happen to see them. When he’d called as Will was telling her what happened at school she knew she couldn’t ignore him any longer. She’d waited until Will was asleep then crept into her office. She’d panicked when she heard Will getting out of bed.
‘I’ll call you in a minute,’ she whispered hurriedly. ‘Don’t call me back.’
He said he was desperate to see her. He couldn’t get her out of his head. He was going insane.
She couldn’t believe she’d got herself into this mess. She’d let her anger at Will muddy her thinking. She would give anything to turn the clock back and stop herself getting into Luke’s car. But she couldn’t. And now she had to put an end to it.
She’d spent the morning at the British Library rather than in the office. Libraries calmed her. Row upon row of stacked shelves, insulating her, holding her safely. She’d always felt at home with books. While Sophie had spent any rare free time attempting to cook up half-decent dishes from the meagre supply of store-cupboard ingredients her grandmother kept in stock, Harmony would curl up on the sofa and read. She read anything from Ray Bradbury to Stephen King, Jane Austen to Jilly Cooper. There was always a dictionary beside her. If she came across a word she didn’t know she’d stop and look it up. Sophie teased her and called her a nerd, but Harmony didn’t care. Stories were an escape from her fatherless, motherless world, a security blanket for whenever she felt vulnerable.
‘Can I help you, madam?’ asked a man dressed in a spotless black polo shirt, the name of the restaurant stitched across his left breast.
‘I’m meeting someone,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if he’s here already.’
‘And the name of the reservation?’
‘Luke Crawford,’ she said. ‘I think it was for one o’clock. I’m a bit early.’
The man looked down his list then nodded. ‘Mr Crawford hasn’t arrived yet. Shall I show you to your table?’
The table was near the back of the room and as she sat down she felt immediately less conspicuous and her body relaxed.
‘Would you like something to drink?’
‘Iced water, please. Tap is fine.’
He smiled at her and placed two leather menus on the table. ‘I’ll send someone over with your water. Can I get you anything else?’
‘No, thank you. I’ll wait until my friend arrives.’ The man left. Harmony wished she hadn’t used the word friend. It sounded too intimate, too telling; she should have said colleague instead.
When Harmony saw Luke walk in through the double glass doors her heart missed a beat. She reached for her water and had a sip, lifting her eyes over the rim of the glass to watch him talk to the waiter in the polo shirt. She saw the waiter point. Luke smiled and nodded in her direction. She cast her eyes downwards so as not to catch his gaze.
As he approached the table she looked up. ‘Hello, Luke,’ she said, her voice shaking.
He leant in and kissed her cheek. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said. He sat down and immediately gestured to a nearby waiter.
‘Yes, sir?’ said the waiter, hurrying over.
‘We’d like to order some wine and some sparkling water.’ He looked at Harmony. ‘Red or white?’
‘Not for me, thank you,’ she said, trying to keep her voice level.
‘Just the sparkling water.’
She resisted the urge to thank the waiter, who didn’t seem to mind Luke’s brusqueness.
‘I’ve haven’t stopped thinking about you,’ he said.
‘Shhh.’ She looked nervously around her.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want anyone to hear.’
He laughed loudly. ‘Who’s going to care?’
‘Me.’ She picked up the menu and fixed her eyes on it. ‘I gave you specific instructions not to call or text me.’
‘Specific instructions?’ he repeated with amusement.
‘Yes.’
‘I was desperate.’ He leant forward and laid his hand on her lower arm. ‘I can’t think about anything else.’
She laid the menu on the table and looked at him. ‘I told you not to call me. Will was with me when you did last night. I can’t believe you did that.’
Luke fell silent, his disappointment plain. She recalled Will telling her last night about the incident with Farrow and the older boys and felt a pang of pity for him.
She lifted the menu. ‘So what’s good?’ she said, wanting to avoid the hurt in his eyes.
‘It’s all good but if you like seafood, the salt and pepper squid is fantastic. If you don’t, the carpaccio is delicious. Their pasta dishes are excellent.’
‘I dislike carpaccio,’ she said. ‘Remember? The well-cooked steak and the liberal’s conscience?’
‘With all the guilt cooked out of it.’
She nodded, lips pursed. His eyes were fixed on hers, but he looked at her differently to the way he had before their illicit afternoon. The desire had gone. The playfulness. There was a coldness there now and the hairs on her arms and back of her neck prickled.
‘Luke, I came here to—’ She was cut short by the waiter who arrived with a bottle of sparkling water. He opened it and poured each of them a glass, then retrieved an electronic notepad. Harmony hadn’t even looked at the food, so hurriedly scanned the menu and ordered the salt cod soup and a fennel risotto. Luke then asked for the carpaccio and a seafood linguini.
‘You ignored my recommendations?’
She closed the menu without replying.
Luke leant forward, his forearms in front of him.
Harmony stared at his hand on the white tablecloth, those long fingers and perfect nails, gentle moons of white at the base of each one. She recalled his fingers on her skin, grasping her hair, inside her. He moved his hand so the tip of his middle finger rested against hers. She drew away from him. ‘How was your business trip?’ she asked, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her.
‘All I could think about was you, so it was both a waste of time and frustrating. Did you think about me?’
She paused, took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to look at him. ‘What we did was wrong.’
‘Wrong?’ he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. ‘Nothing about it was wrong.’
‘Everything about it was wrong, Luke.’
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. His features had set hard, eyes narrowed, burning now with the same angry intensity they had when they’d had sex.
‘I’m married and having sex with another man is wrong.’
‘Your marriage isn’t working.’
‘My marriage is fine.’
‘If your marriage was fine you wouldn’t have come looking for me.’
‘I didn’t come looking for you,’ she said, making an effort to keep her voice down. ‘We met at the party and then you …’ She paused as the waiter appeared with a basket of bread, continuing only when he left. ‘Then you pursued me.’
He lifted his eyebrows. ‘Pursued you? Is that what you think?’
She reached for her glass and drank some water. She didn’t want to rush, didn’t want to say the wrong thing, something that would lead him on. She needed to keep her head straight. ‘You made your feelings pretty clear at the party. Then you came to my work and took me for a drink and then asked me, in no uncertain terms, to sleep with you. Then you said you wanted to apologise. We were supposed to go for coffee and …’ She tailed off, leaving the rest of that afternoon unspoken.
‘And you got into my car. You let me kiss you.’ He reached for some bread, then tore a small piece off it. ‘Then you directed me to your husband’s photography studio, unlocked the door, took me inside, and we fucked.’ He put the bread in his mouth.
‘Keep your voice down,’ she whispered.
‘Is it easier to believe I chased you? That I made you do it?’
‘Yes,’ she retorted. ‘Of course it is. If I think too hard about what I’ve done, I feel sick.’ She drew another deep breath. ‘But there were reasons. Things have happened in the last six months that left a chasm between Will and me.’ She hesitated, wondering if she should be opening her and Will up to Luke like this. ‘Neither of us dealt well with losing our baby. He wasn’t able to support me and I felt very alone. I was angry at him.’ She paused. ‘And there was this numbness around me, like all my anger and resentment and sadness was forming a wall around me. Then I met you and I seemed to feel something again. Something powerful and it was confusing and, yes, exciting. And I lost control of myself and—’ She stopped herself, aware she was talking too much, drifting away from her objective of finishing whatever this was and trying to justify it.
‘And what?’ he said. ‘I want to know.’
She took a moment to compose herself. ‘Will and I might be going through a rough patch, but I love him. Deeply. What we did should never have happened.’
‘But it did happen.’ He reached beneath the table and laid his hand on her knee, slowly moving up her thigh, stroking her gently.
His touch sent tingles down her spine and for a split second she let it start to carry her away. But then she caught herself. She pushed his hand away. ‘No.’ She reached for her water again and found she was shaking. ‘I love Will.’
