“What the fuck’s happened to you?” Shelley asked Hugo. He’d been unrecognisable from a distance when she’d first seen the unkempt man sitting on a bench outside The Freemasons Arms. It wasn’t until she was farther along Downshire Hill, barely more than an arm’s reach away from him, that she realised the man in the beer garden was Hugo – her friend with the rugged good looks. But now the goodness had gone and only the ruggedness remained.
“Tars happened.” Hugo spoke like he was possessed and he looked like he had been too – by a tramp who’d ousted his suave style. “Do you have a spare cigarette?”
Shelley passed him a cigarette then lit it with her purple Clipper. “When did you last have a wash?”
“Wednesday... or was it Tuesday. The day Tars came back.”
“Are you still stopping at hers then?” Nicole sat down on the wooden picnic bench next to him.
“My dad’s banned me from my own flat. Can you believe it? I’m disowned until I go into treatment.” He pulled his woolly hat lower over his ears and forehead. His blonde locks were still able to find an escape route down the sides and the back of his neck.
Shelley took a seat on the uncomfortable bench. “Maybe you should go.”
“That’s rich coming from you, love,” Nicole told her.
“Look at him. He’s fucked.”
“Thank you, Shelley, darling, I am here you know.” Hugo gave her a crooked smile as well as a nasty waft of decay. “I am going, I just haven’t decided when. You should see the place... swimming pool, five-star food, luxury private rooms.”
“You might wanna have a bath first,” Shelley said, smiling at him.
Nicole leaned forward over the picnic table, in Hugo’s direction. “Did you ever find your camcorder and your laptop?” she asked him.
“How would I? Tars’s lowlife dealer pilfered them.”
“What make was your laptop?”
Shelley cringed. She hoped the conversation wouldn’t result in Nicole disclosing the crimes she already knew with certainty Tara had committed.
“Toshiba. Why?”
“And your camcorder?” Nicole continued investigating.
“Sony,” Hugo replied. “Do you know something about this that I don’t?”
“Don’t be silly. I was just wondering what the good makes are.”
“Do you know if Tara’s all right? I can’t get hold of her.” Shelley picked up her handbag and in one smooth manoeuvre, the strap was over her shoulder.
“You think I’m in a bad way?” Hugo raised his eyebrows and they disappeared under the rim of his hat. “You need to see her.”
“Tell her to call me, please. I’m worried about her.” Shelley motioned with her head for Nicole to leave.
“You’re off so soon,” Hugo said to Shelley as she stooped by the bench to kiss him on the cheek. Their faces brushed, and he whispered in her ear, “Have you got any crack on you, darling?”
***
From Downshire Hill, Shelley and Nicole turned into Keats Grove. After a few steps, Shelley tried to sneak a look through the window of a grand house. She tripped on the uneven pavement. Nicole steadied her, preventing her fall.
“Are you sure it’s down here?” Nicole asked.
Shelley had thought it was a library she’d driven past on the leafy street countless times before, but now she was walking, and not driving, she wasn’t as certain. When she caught sight of the black iron gates, she changed her mind again. Through those gates, she believed was a path that led to the library. Having walked under the iron arch and down the passageway, they reached their destination.
Once inside the old building, she stopped for a moment, gazing up the stained glass, domed roof. She imagined how beautiful it would look with the sun shining through it. Her brief dreamlike moment was brought to an end by Nicole’s clonking footsteps on the parquet floor behind her.
“Shhh.” Shelley put her index finger to her mouth and glared at Nicole. Faces looked up at them from the tables scattered across the room. Shelley disregarded the disapproving stares and continued towards the books. She studied the section titles. She was at a loss where to look for the information she required. It would be quicker to ask the librarian. If she didn’t, she might not find what she needed before the library closed.
As she made her way across the floor to the enquiry desk, she concocted a story to explain why she needed to know the depth of the canal. Her boss had bought a barge and instructed her to come up with a route for his first trip. She repeated it to herself to make it more believable when she spoke.
“Can you help me with something please?” Shelley called to the stout woman behind the desk who stood with her back towards them. While she was being ignored, Shelley took the time to develop her second lie about parcel tape.
“Yes, dearie. What do you need?” The woman turned around. Shelley realised he was a man.
“It might sound a bit strange but I’m trying to find out the— What are those?” Shelley pointed to the floor by the cupboards behind the enquiry desk. The librarian’s eyes followed.
“Newspapers. You have seen—”
“What newspapers are they?”
“Local and national. What is it that you need, dearie?”
“What about the canal?” Nicole whispered in Shelley’s ear.
“When are they from? Are they recent?” Shelley attempted to wink at Nicole when the librarian turned his back, but she could never wink like Nicole could. Instead, she simultaneously shut both her eyes.
“Very recent. We only store a few weeks’ backlog here.” The librarian looked down, fiddling with the books on his desk. “You might be better off at Swiss Cottage. They’re bigger than we are,” he mumbled.
“Can I see them, please?”
“Which ones do you want to see, dearie?” He didn’t look up, but Shelley could hear the impatience in his tone.
“All of them,” she said defiantly.