Sebastian is waiting outside and looks up anxiously as we are led from the room. Somehow Naomi and I manage to maintain decorum until the Prosecutor and his assistant have departed, and the judges have exchanged a few muttered words with Sebastian before leaving also.
Then we explode.
Naomi turns and throws her arms around me, screaming ‘OhmyGod! OhmyGod!’ over and over, then we’re jumping up and down, and I’m shouting along with her ‘We did it! We did it!’ and hugging her tightly back, tears streaming down my face.
Finally we disentangle and I look up to see Sebastian, his eyes already filled with dawning realisation and a triumphant smile spreading across his face as he strides towards us. Naomi hurls herself at him and nearly knocks him to the floor with the force of her hug. He pats her on the back as she sobs on to his shoulder, all the while his eyes burning into mine. When Naomi finally releases him, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, the next thing I know Sebastian has closed the step between us and is picking me up and spinning me around, and we’re both laughing and I think I am crying, oblivious to the guards still lurking somewhere behind us.
My feet find the ground again and I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from Sebastian’s eyes as we continue laughing crazily.
‘I can’t believe it.’ He’s beaming, his whole face illuminated as he stares down at me. ‘They made the decision there and then?’
‘There and then. Sentence reduced from nine years to five, but with six already served, so instant release.’ I hear myself giggle hysterically and hardly recognise myself. ‘Did you hear that, Naomi?’ I call over Sebastian’s shoulder. ‘Instant release!’ I expect Naomi to start jumping up and down and shouting again, but instead she’s looking at me with a Cheshire Cat smile, wiggling her eyebrows at me meaningfully. I look down and realise Sebastian’s hands are still firmly gripping my waist.
‘Erm, it won’t actually be instant,’ he says, taking a hasty step back and bringing us all back down to earth with a thud. ‘There is paperwork to do now. Naomi, you’ll have to be taken back to the prison today to wait until the official release warrant is issued – that will take a couple of days, I’m afraid.’
I stare back at him, horrified. ‘What? You mean she has to go back to prison? But they just said she’s now a free woman – the revised sentence length has already been served!’ I turn to Naomi, expecting to see her distraught, but she’s rolling her eyes and smiling at Sebastian.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know how it works – seen it happen enough times to the other girls. I get to go back and say my goodbyes and pack my stuff up, not that that will take long!’ She’s still grinning exuberantly as the guards finally decide enough is enough and come back over to refasten her handcuffs and make gestures that it is time to go.
‘But… Sebastian, you’ll tell my mum, right?’ She’s suddenly serious, calling over her shoulder as the guards start to lead her towards the doorway. ‘And you’ll make sure she gets my flight details?’
‘Of course,’ Sebastian promises, ‘I’ll phone her as soon as I get back to the office, and I’ll get on the case to find out when you’ll be able to travel. We’ll push for the end of next week.’
Naomi grins at him, then turns to me and mouths ‘thank you’, before giving a little wave, then turning back to follow the guards.
I watch her being led meekly away, back to the prison, and feel overwhelmed with a childish disappointment that there wasn’t some dramatic gesture of freedom, the yanking off of her handcuffs and running out on to the street screaming ‘I’m freeeee!’ to total strangers.
‘It feels weird, doesn’t it?’ Sebastian seems to read my mind, and comes to stand close beside me as we watch Naomi get into the police car outside. ‘But she’s past the final hurdle now. Three or four days more and she’ll be on a flight home, as a free woman. I only pray her dad can hang on a little longer.’
‘Me too.’ We stand in silence for a moment in the empty reception of the courtroom, watching the police car pull out into the afternoon traffic and drive away. I feel bizarrely as if we are two parents watching their only child depart for university or a round the world voyage. Sebastian is standing close enough for me to feel the rise and fall of his breath beside me. It would only take the slightest movement, the most minimal gap to be crossed, for him to put his arm around me again… I don’t move an inch but let my eyes slide sideways towards him.
Then I jump nearly a foot in the air as I feel someone reach out and take hold of my arm.
‘Miss Morgan?’
It takes me a second or two to realise that Sebastian is still standing to my right, but the person now resting his hand on my left arm and looking up at me through thick spectacles and an anxious expression is Dr Vélez, Naomi’s public lawyer.
‘Er – yes?’ I answer a little abruptly, my heart rate gradually slowing down again from the surprise. Had he been lurking there the whole time as Naomi, Sebastian and I jumped around like maniacs?
‘I wanted to give you my card.’ The little man reaches into his shirt pocket and produces a business card. I stare down at it for a moment, uncomprehending, reading the words Dr Xavier Vélez – Public Defence Unit Quito – President.
‘I am, in fact, the head of the Public Defence Unit for this city,’ he continues, as if he almost expected my surprise at this fact. ‘And I have to say, I was deeply impressed by your defence of young Naomi Barker today.’
I’m dimly aware of Sebastian stepping away from us to answer a phone call, and I cast around for something to say that isn’t completely inane.
‘I wasn’t actually defending her…’ I reply weakly. ‘I just wanted to support my friend.’
‘I am aware of your legal background,’ Dr Vélez continues, regardless. ‘And I wanted to tell you that if you ever wish to return to Ecuador and spend some time working in our offices – to gain experience of another country’s legal system, for example – we would be most content to have you.’
I stare back at him, feeling a spark of excitement stir inside me.
‘We could discuss salary and duration at your convenience,’ Dr Vélez goes on. ‘But our workload is such that we can always benefit from competent, legally trained individuals such as you. Even if you only wanted to come for a month or two.’
‘Thank you… that would be…’ Words fails me as his words sink in and I look around for Sebastian. I spot him pacing the other side of the room, frowning at the floor and nodding with his phone pressed tightly to his ear. ‘Dr Vélez, I don’t know what to say… only that this is a real honour, thank you.’
‘Consider it, okay?’ Dr Vélez reaches to shake my hand. ‘If you ever want to do it, just call me.’ Then with that he turns and shuffles to the door, leaving me standing open-mouthed in his wake.
Come for a few months… gain some experience… my mind starts whirling with possibilities as Sebastian strides back over, his face apologetic.
‘Kirsty, I have to run.’ He looks devastated. ‘I’m so sorry, I was going to drive you home, but I just have to get back to the office right now, and it’s in the opposite direction… there’s been an accident involving a tourist.’ He runs his hands though his hair in an agitated gesture.
‘Don’t worry, I can get a taxi.’ I smile encouragingly at him, swallowing back my irrational disappointment. What had I expected – that we’d go out for dinner, order wine and raise a toast to Naomi, then spend the evening dissecting the court hearing and reliving my final speech to the judges? Of course not. You’re being ridiculous, I tell myself firmly. And not just about Sebastian.
He’s already backing away from me towards the door, reaching for his car keys, and with him also goes the brief spark of excitement I felt at Dr Vélez’s offer.
How could you even consider it? Your place is back in the UK.
In Fenbridge.
With Harry.
Yet even as I tell myself these words, I realise I barely believe them anymore.
‘Look, make sure you get a registered cab, okay?’ The look on Sebastian’s face is of pure anguish, oblivious to the turmoil of a different kind going on inside me. ‘And text me when you’re home, right?’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll be fine – you go! Don’t worry.’
Still he lingers, looking positively tortured. ‘Also I’m sorry if I was a bit… just now, I didn’t mean to come across as…’ He trails off just as his phone bursts into life again. ‘Oh God.’ He jogs forward again and gives me a hasty cheek-kiss, then turns to run towards his car. As he draws level with it he turns back. ‘And Kirsty – thank you, so much, for everything.’ Then the car door slams shut behind him and he disappears with a screech of tyres to visit his disaster.
Will I even see you again? I find myself wondering, taken by surprise at the feeling of plummeting desolation that follows.
I stand on the pavement holding my arm out listlessly for a taxi, feeling suddenly and acutely alone. After being part of something so monumental, getting a cab back to Liza and Roberto’s house for tortillas and an episode of The Colour of Sin seems like a bit of an anticlimax. I feel like Naomi and I should be going for a wild night out on the town in sparkly heels, knocking back tequilas and toasting her new future.
Instead, I have to face Harry. With a cold shudder of adrenaline and dread, I remember my promise to myself this morning that I would talk to him today. About his secretive behaviour… but not just that. The uneasy feeling that has been hovering on the edges of my consciousness for days now makes its presence known again, in the form of a churning sick feeling. I have to talk to Harry about everything. How I feel. What I want. Where we go from here…
I am so mired in these uncomfortable thoughts that I almost don’t notice a taxi has pulled up in front of me.
I step forward to get in, and with a start recognise the swinging red dreadlocks of the man climbing out.
‘Luke!’
He looks up from paying the taxi driver, and I can tell it takes him a few moments to recognise me. ‘Oh, Kirsty, hey!’
We cheek-kiss awkwardly. ‘So, how are you finding life in Quito?’ Luke’s brummy accent lilts. ‘And, wow! You look… smart.’ He takes in my clothing and lingers a little too long on the skirt. ‘Have you been somewhere, like, important?’
‘Oh, it’s a long story,’ I laugh dismissively, desperate not to have to explain why I am standing outside a courtroom with a tear-stained face and a too-tight suit on a Friday morning.
‘I’m sure it is…’ Luke continues, still addressing my skirt. ‘Well, anyway, say hi to Harry for me.’ He visibly shakes his head and forces himself to look at my face. ‘He’s been great these last few weeks – a real help to me, all the students love him.’
Well, at least this proves he has at least been showing up there sometimes, a jaded voice somewhere in my head tells me, besides whatever else it is he’s been getting up to.
‘I’m only glad I could accommodate him,’ Luke goes on. ‘We get quite a lot of applications from teachers, you know – foreigners passing through for a few months, Brits, Americans, Aussies… but I’m glad I gave Harry the chance. He really has been a help. In fact, do you know how much longer you guys are planning on sticking around?’
My heart has started to pump faster, its echoes roaring in my ears.
‘You mean… Harry asked for the job?’ My voice comes out strangely high-pitched.
Luke peers back at me with an expression that tells me he thinks I might be a little bit deranged.
‘Yes… of course. The night we met in that bar. He was so keen, I was impressed. Few too many drinks that night, eh, Kirsty? Memory loss, at all?’ He winks and nudges me awkwardly with his elbow. I just stand there.
‘SEÑORITA! You taking this cab or not?’ I realise distantly that the taxi driver has been waiting for me, leaning impatiently out of the window, now hooting his horn to get my attention. I wave him away distractedly, and he pulls out into the road shaking his head and tutting. I turn back to Luke.
‘And the teacher whose aunt died… in the USA… your desperately needing cover…’ My voice is barely more than a whisper now, the traffic roaring behind me and my knees starting to shake.
‘Sorry, not following you now, love. Nobody’s died yet, as far as I know…’ Luke makes an awkward guffawing noise and starts to edge away, my derangement now a certainty to him. ‘So, anyway, I’d better be going… need to pick up some supplies from the, er, stationer’s…’ He gestures limply somewhere at the street behind him. ‘Erm, so, just let us know, yeah? Whenever you’re planning on leaving. I’d be sorry to see Harry go…’ With that he turns and flees in the opposite direction, and I stand rooted to the spot, watching him go, as the traffic and pedestrians bustle around me, the implications of his words painfully sinking in.
***
I don’t remember getting home. In the same way that after so many years working in London I would sometimes end up walking up to the front door and putting my key in the lock with no memory at all of the commute, I now find myself marching up the stairs to the apartment, my mind a strange blank. All I can think about is Harry, on the other side of that door, knowing all the things I need to know, yet still determinedly, infuriatingly hiding them from me. I fumble for my keys impatiently then fling the door open.
All the blinds are pulled down inside the apartment, blotting out the midday sunlight, the only sound the muffled chatter in Spanish from the little radio on Harry’s side of the bed. Then a door creaks behind me and Harry is standing there, framed in the bathroom doorway wearing just a pair of shorts and rubbing his hair dry with a towel.
‘Hey…’ He eyes me with a cautious expression, then reaches past me into the wardrobe for a T-shirt. ‘I just got back from a run. So… how did it go?’
I watch him pull the T-shirt over his head, observing with detachment his taught abs, ruffled blond hair, the tan lines on his upper arms where the skin has turned a warm caramel colour. I feel nothing towards him except burning resentment, and, buried somewhere far below that, like a layer of sediment at the bottom of the ocean, the beginnings of a deep sadness.
‘I want to talk to you.’ My voice comes out icy, controlled.
Harry’s head snaps up at my tone. ‘Okay…’ He sidesteps past me into the kitchen. ‘Want a drink?’
‘No. I want to know if you’re involved in drugs.’
I hear the clatter of something falling to the floor and follow Harry into the kitchen diner, finding him standing in the debris of what used to be the coffee pot.
‘What the fuck?’ He picks his way over the shards of glass and plastic, staring at me. I back away from him, knowing that if he touches me I will lose my tenuous grip on self-control.
‘You heard me. Harry, I just need to know. I can’t carry on just—’
My phone makes a rude vibrating sound against the worktop, bursting into life with an incoming call.
‘LEAVE that!’ I bark at Harry, seeing his eyes slide longingly towards it. ‘Now answer my question.’ I can feel the hysteria rising in my throat and struggle to control it. ‘We’ve been together nearly six years, we’ve got a mortgage, you persuaded me to come to fucking SOUTH AMERICA with you… whatever it is that’s going on between us, Harry, you owe me an answer.’ Tears threaten to choke my voice but I swallow them back in determination. ‘So, I want you to tell me honestly – are you or are you not involved in some sort of drug-related…’ I flail around for the right word, ‘…situation?’
Harry stares at me. My phone starts buzzing and singing again, but neither of us looks at it. After an agonising silence he lets out a blunt, humourless laugh, shaking his head.
‘Kirsty, I really think you’ve been spending too much time at that prison…’ He trails off and rubs the back of his head, frowning. ‘What on earth would make you think—’
‘I bumped into Luke.’
‘From the school? Okay… and?’
I turn away from him, take a deep breath, then spin back towards him and look up to meet his eyes. If only hours ago I found the courage to stand up in court and plead compassion to a whole panel of anti-narcotics judges … I must surely be able to confront my own boyfriend, once and for all.
‘Luke told me there was no teacher from the USA whose family member died. No favour you were doing him, agreeing to work there at his request. YOU, in fact, asked for the job. You applied.’ I stare at Harry, daring him to oppose me. ‘All this about being nearly ready to leave, just waiting until that teacher gets back from America… it’s all been a load of crap, hasn’t it? You could have left whenever you wanted! We could have…’ The sob comes out now and I let it. Tears roll down my cheeks and I furiously wipe them away, keeping my eyes fixed on Harry.
He sits down suddenly on the coffee table with a long sigh, all the air rushing out of him like the last helium balloon at a children’s party. My phone starts up again, the noise jarring and invading the space around us.
‘Will you just – shut that fucking thing up!’ Harry waves in the general direction of the phone with jerky irritation. ‘And come over here, and sit down?’
I stride over to the phone and cut off the call with a stab of my finger, not even looking at the number, then switch it off and slam it back down again on the side.
‘There – happy? And I’ll stand, thank you very much.’ My voice is shaking but I stand opposite Harry with my arms folded. ‘I’m still waiting for your answer.’
‘Oh, God!’ He runs his hands through his hair again and stands up abruptly, sending the coffee table flying backwards behind him. ‘Okay, okay. Kirsty, will you just… okay.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘First of all, it’s not what you’re thinking, all right? Jesus, so you’ve been going round thinking I’m some sort of a…’ He trails off and laughs bitterly. ‘Yeah. Well. I suppose you would.’ His blue gaze meets mine for the first time today. ‘I was actually going to tell you everything.’
At that moment a strange noise explodes behind us, and it takes me several seconds to realise it is Harry’s phone, launching into a badly rendered polyphonic version of the James Bond theme tune. It gets as far as the ‘de-de-DUM, de-de-DUM’ crescendo then abruptly cuts off, before starting up again immediately, the urgency of the caller coming through in the disjointed repetition of the sound.
‘I’m going to get that,’ he says, speaking slowly and holding out his arm towards me in the way one might with a hysterical person standing on the edge of a tall building. ‘Someone is clearly trying to get hold of one or other of us.’ He backs towards the phone, keeping his eyes on me. ‘Then we’ll keep talking, okay?’
‘Harry, don’t you da—’
‘Hello?’ I watch in silent fury as Harry holds the phone to his ear, his eyes flicking back and forth in concentration as he takes in whatever the caller is saying. Then he visibly pales and his other hand goes to his mouth.
‘Yes… yes, Kirsty Morgan. Yes, she’s my girlfriend… I’ll put you on now.’ He holds the phone out to me, his eyes wide. ‘It’s your dad. He’s in hospital.’