The fleeting taste of British summertime in spring had passed. On Friday, as Shelley traipsed through Hampstead Heath, the sky had returned to an overcast grey. At the top of Parliament Hill, she slumped on a bench that had taken a battering from the elements. To protect herself from them, she pulled her jean jacket tighter around her.
This was the first time she’d been out of her flat since the Wednesday morning breakfast with her aunt. She’d been busy with her friend, heroin, anesthetising her pain. She hoped that today she’d actually make it to the library.
She lit a cigarette and sat back, listening to the chatter of the birds and looking over London from her favourite spot at the top of the world. In the distance, near the foot of the hill, she noticed Nicole strolling effortlessly up the steep gradient towards her. She looked like a 1950s movie star in her black trouser suit teamed with a headscarf, her blonde hair curled out at the sides and a pair of oversized sunglasses shielding half her face.
“Sorry I’m late. Were you waiting long?”
“It’s okay.” Shelley smiled. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Nicole. “Will you do it? I want to get it over with.” Shelley held out her mobile phone, too scared to be delivered the bad news by a stranger.
“Go on then. Give it here.” Nicole joined Shelley on the bench and made the call. “Good afternoon. I’m calling on behalf of my client and I’d like to ask you some questions before making a reservation . . . He’s an international celebrity and I need to book him into one of the very best hotels in London . . . It’s about security. We’ve had issues in the past so this is exceptionally important . . . Do you have CCTV? . . . Where do you have it? . . . Thank you for your time.”
“They have it, don’t they?” Shelley was horrified. She looked anxiously at Nicole.
“In the entrance hall and the corridors, but it doesn’t mean anything. They might not even monitor it and you look totally different now anyway. Don’t worry love, really. I look more like you than you do.”
Shelley forced a smile.
“No more secrets, my Resident Most Precious.” Nicole hooked Shelley’s pinkie finger with hers and shook it.
“No more secrets. There aren’t any left.”
“I hope so.” Nicole smiled. “And by the way, it doesn’t include other people’s secrets.”
Shelley slipped her finger from Nicole’s and took a cigarette from her box.
“Angel told me. That’s about the only secret I can think of that you were right in keeping from me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shelley asked.
“I only found out when we took you to the clinic.”
“Why didn’t you ever talk about The Lanesborough?” Shelley clasped the ruby pendant on her necklace.
“I wanted you to trust me, Shell. To be honest with me, not because you were off your head and didn’t know what you were saying, but to confide in me. I’m supposed to be your best friend.”
“Oh.” Shelley drained her cigarette as she watched the kites – expertly flown as they always were on the top of the world – breathe life into the dull sky with their primary colours. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at trusting people, but I always trusted you the most.”
Now she didn’t need to ask why Nicole had never mentioned her heroin habit. She had the answer. She looked at Nicole and felt tears welling in her eyes. She tried to blink them away. She had the most wonderful friend, the most caring, loyal, forgiving and understanding friend, and yet she’d felt unable to trust her. Nicole had asked what that said about her, but it was no reflection on Nicole. It spoke reams about Shelley.
***
“How’s it going with your dad?” she asked Nicole as they wandered out of an open field, heading into the woods. Shelley scratched her nose, looking up at the tall, white-barked birch trees. She was always itchier there. She wondered if she had an allergy.
“I’m seeing him on Sunday. He’s bringing my other brothers and my sister. It’s sad Enda and Milly won’t see him but Susie’s gonna come.” Nicole retied her headscarf. “Even if Jim’s not your dad, he is Will’s dad. You could keep in touch.”
“I hate him.” Shelley smiled at the old lady walking towards them.
“You’ll feel better if you forgive him. You’re the one being hurt by the anger you’ve got for him. You could go back to Dr Fielding, work through it.”
Open-mouthed, Shelley stared at Nicole. “Forgive him? How could I?”
“It doesn’t mean you’re saying it’s all right what he did. It’s not right to abandon your kid. But you can forgive him for who he is now, not who he was then.”
She wouldn’t forgive Jim. Not for being her absent father, if he was. And even more so, not for leaving her brother. It would invalidate the pain Will suffered – the rejection he felt, the inadequacy – like it didn’t matter, like it never happened. Had Jim been a proper father, Will would still be alive.
***
Having ambled for an hour, they approached the edge of the Heath. As Shelley walked on the shorter grass, parallel to East Heath Road, she gazed up into the lacklustre sky. She needed a hit but they were headed to The Magdala where later they were meeting with Angel. Now that she knew Nicole and Angel could tell when she was high, she hoped she could wait until she got home to have her next fix.
As they walked towards the street, Shelley caught sight of The Freemasons Arms on Downshire Hill, which reminded her of the library. She was sure it was on a road in that direction, although during the two years she’d lived in Hampstead, she’d never been.
While they carefully navigated their way down a sloping grass verge that led to the pavement, Shelley asked Nicole to accompany her to the library.
“Not this canal and tape thing again. There’s no point. If the canal’s shallow or the tape stops sticking, we can’t do anything about it, can we?”
“I just wanna know, that’s all. So I can stop thinking about it.” Shelley lit herself a cigarette and passed one to Nicole.
“You know what? I don’t even care.” Nicole stopped walking. She turned to face Shelley. “You do things the right way and you get jack shit. Look at the sentences those fucking nonces got. They’ll be out in a few years, free to do it all over again, fucking up more kids’ lives. At least that rapist can’t rape anyone again.”
“It’s all so fucked up, the law, the judges. It’s all so wrong.” Shelley took a hard draw on her cigarette. She watched the school-run traffic. The noise resounded in her head.
“Getting justice is a farce,” Nicole said.