35
CHARLEY
The first thingI did was to ring my old boss at the warehouse, to beg for my job back, but he took way too much pleasure in informing me he’d filled my spot within two days. I tried not to take it personally.
It was ten times worse being home without the distraction of a job to while away the hours. Nita tried to fuss over me at first, but after I shouted at her to leave me the fuck alone, then promptly burst into tears — a first for me, and a huge shock for Nita — I apologised and she backed off. Or rather, she changed her tack. As I stood prepping spring onions and bean sprouts on the second evening, without having been asked, I realised I’d been uneasy skulking in my room, and playing the part of the angsty goth teen I’d done so well before shit had gone south. A few days with people around me who’d encouraged and supported me while I figured out who I truly was had altered my world view somewhat.
“Nita?” I’d not called her Mum since I was old enough to understand parents had names. I wondered if she didn’t mind or if it hurt her feelings. I didn’t feel able to change now though.
“Yes?”
“You know how you and David go away and leave me here? Like, when I was younger. I don’t mean last month.”
“Ye-e-s.” Her reply this time was unsure.
“I was just thinking. Did you leave me because I was such a little shit you couldn’t bear to be around me, or for some other reason? I know I’ve always been kind of independent.”
Her eyes became glassy as she stared at me, her mouth a perfect O. “Charley,no.Never! You were always…challenging, but we’d never have just given up on you and abandoned you to jet off to the sun. You are independent, so fiercely so at times it worries us, but no. It wasn’t that at all.” I cocked an eyebrow. “We took you to Greece, Rhodes actually, not long before you turned two. You were okay on the ’plane, but heavens, you were so desperately miserable. You cried in the sun, on the beach, by the pool, on excursions, in the restaurants.” She turned away to blow her nose, then managed a watery smile. “Not all the restaurants actually. There was this little place tucked away practically in a cave, it felt like, down an alley in the old town. Funny place, all shadows and ‘atmosphere’.” She made finger quotes. “We never did find out if they spoke any English. They were a couple, or we assumed they were. Weird sort. But they doted on you. Took one look at you and plied you with all sorts of local food. I suppose it was local anyway. Lots of leaves and fruits and— Heaven knows what was in their meals, to be honest. They simply brought us a plate every evening, and a bottle of wine — there were no menus — and we ended up eating there for the remainder of the trip. It was worth it to see you actually eat. And drink.” She stifled a laugh. “They made these insanely lurid baby cocktails for you. I dread to think what was in them, but we didn’t think it would hurt for ten days. It was quite embarrassing really. After the second day, you ran in and went straight to the woman, tugging on her skirts and pointing at the shelf where they kept the glasses and straws.”
I tensed. “Lurid in what way?”
“Red. Always so red. Over the top red with cherries and strawberries and even pomegranates, I think.” She shuddered suddenly. “Looked like someone’s Halloween idea of a vampire’s blood punch. Not that there is such a thing, obviously. But anyway, you drank them, and ate your vine leaves or whatever the hell they served you, and were a lot less fractious. Your father said it would be worth weaning you off the E numbers later to have you calm for the trip.” She smiled. “It was definitely worth it. You loved that weird place.”
It couldn’t be, surely? Had someone, somevampire,recognised me and fed meblooddisguised as fruity baby drinks? No, they wouldn’t have. Or would they? I needed to get off the subject before I exploded my own brain with overthinking.
“So, this holiday was a disaster, and then what?”
Nita took my cue. “We never thought of taking you abroad again. We stayed in the U.K. after that, very deliberately. Went away a few times in the autumn half term instead of the summer. You particularly loved the Yorkshire coast, when the wind stole your breath and the rain came down horizontal. But it wasn’t really a holiday for your dad and me. Then you kept begging us to let you stay home. By the time you hit high school age, you’d worn us down enough we agreed, even though we argued about it being safe enough. We filled the freezer and fridge, taped a list of phone numbers to the wall by the phone, and asked Mrs Jeffries down the road to pop her head in every evening to check you seemed happy. Which she said you did. And you certainly seemed happier to be left in your own home. We thought it was kinder.” She took the chopped vegetables and added them to the piles ready to stir fry. She came to stand next to me, brushing a lock of hair off my face. “It was never, ever because we wanted to be rid of you. You’re ourson,Charley.”
Ouch.
I rinsed my hands, then took a blood pouch from the fridge. It felt brazen to sip neat blood in front of Nita, but she and David had enthusiastically endorsed anything that brought lustre to my cheeks, so they’d made room in the fridge for the new delivery of my ‘protein drinks’ that had turned up earlier today without a murmur.
“I hurt you, didn’t I, saying I wanted to find my birth parents?” God, was there nowhere I wouldn’t stick my size nines?
She sighed. “Of course it hurts. But it would be naïve of us to think you’d never mention it.” Her smile this time was tender. “We’re probably not very good parents, or not by mainstream standards, but we’ve done the best we could, and I hope you know we only want what’s best for you. If you trace your birth parents, and they’re kind, and care about you, we’d be pretty awful to oppose you getting to know them.” She squeezed my arm. “Don’t get your hopes up, eh? I’m not sure there’s even anywhere to start looking. A hand-drawn Norwegian flag on a piece of paper torn from a generic notebook doesn’t give you much to go on.”
I’d forgotten about the little red and blue colouring in the corner of that bit of paper with my name on. My hankering to learn Norwegian took on a different meaning now. I’d have to mention it to Dalziel.
Nita glanced up at the kitchen clock. “Your dad will be home soon. We’ll eat at six, okay?”
Baxter called the following lunchtime.
36
LUC
My apartment was cleanerthan it had ever been. There wasn’t so much as a takeaway menu out of place. Every surface sparkled, my suits were at the dry cleaners, my shoes polished, old and out of date clothes bagged up and in the boot of the SUV, destined for the charity shop. I’d even emptied my bookcases and individually dusted each book before replacing them. When I found myself contemplating repainting the perfectly pristine living-room ceiling, I knew I had to get out of town.
I gunned the SUV along the country lanes that led me north, until I picked up the A roads, where I went a lot faster still. Approximately a hundred miles from the outskirts of Tratton St Mary was Middle Cranford, the Lincolnshire home of my grandfather. I debated heading for his home out in the surrounding countryside, but figured it wasn’t worth the potential aggro of facing down someone from his pack who didn’t know me. Instead, I made for the headquarters of Milton’s, confident of a welcome there. Parking the car in a space reserved for board members, I turned off the engine and had second thoughts.
Turning up unannounced wasn’t one of my brightest ideas. For all I knew, Grandpa wasn’t even in the office. Plus, I wasn’t sure I could bear the look of disappointment in his eyes if he asked about my current dating status. He defended me staunchly in public, but I knew he struggled with my sexuality. And I knew myself well enough that I’d be bound to bring up the subject of Charley, because I wanted to shout about him from the roof tops.
No, I’d wait for a more appropriate time to spring a visit. Sighing, I refastened my seat belt, and headed instead for the nearby coast. I parked in a quiet side street in the shade of a row of tall straggly hedges. I slipped my trousers and top into a carrier bag, left the rest of my clothing on the back seat, and exited the car on the hedge side. I locked it, and stuffed the key inside my rolled-up top, then wedged the knotted bag under the wheel arch, and shifted. It was a substantial risk in daylight, but this part of the coast was usually deserted at this time of day, especially as winter had begun to bite, with a piercing wind off the sea. I slunk my way carefully down to the shore, and ran for a few miles, up and down. By the time I wriggled back under cover of the hedge to shift back, I was nicely relaxed, no longer feeling as if I would crawl out of my own skin.
I stopped en route to load up with delicious greasy takeaway, because I was starving. I ate again when I got home, then took a long time in the shower. I was exhausted from the effort of trying to make it through a whole day without devoting hours to worrying about Charley. He hadn’t called or texted, which I knew was a possibility with his Fae tendency to short out his phone, but I was uneasy being away from him. However, I’d achieved my goal of keeping busy, and I was pleasantly tired from my run and the drive, so perhaps I would actually sleep.
37
