Page 4 of Unbind

‘I don’t get it,’ she says. ‘Do you know him, or you’re just not a fan?’

‘You’re friends with him,’ I say.

‘He’s a mate of Anton’s, yes, and I’m fond of him. But not as fond as I am of you, so spit it out.’

Fine. ‘I know him,’ I tell her. ‘He doesn’t know who I am, but he was at school with my brother.’

Gen presses her lips together like she already knows she won’t like what’s coming.

‘Adam used to bully him,’ I say, my voice shaking. ‘Badly.’

‘Fuck.’

The tears are flowing freely now, and I sniff hard and wetly as I drag the heel of my hand over my cheek. ‘Yeah, fuck. And one day, he—Adam—beat Stephen to a pulp, and it was so bad he lost his left eye. They couldn’t save it—they had to take the whole thing out.’

She reacts to this like all normal people do when they hear my story: with utter horror. She gasps loudly, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes huge and appalled. ‘Oh myGod,’ she says, voice muffled.

‘Yeah.’

‘Adam Wright did this.’ It’s not a question.

‘Yep.’

‘I can’t believe it—I mean, I knew he’d done time for GBH, but I didn’t know the exact details. Jesus, Nat, I’m so fucking sorry for bringing him here.’

GBH.Grievous Bodily Harm.So laughably inadequate for what that ruthless thug did to Stephen. ‘It’s not your fault,’ I say feebly. She takes my hand and squeezes it, her other armstill around me, and honestly, it feels nice. Comforting. I think I might be in shock. Coming face to face with the man you’ve loved to hate all these years will do that to you.

‘And your brother? What… is he okay?’

Our faces are close enough that, even in the dim light, I can see the unshed tears brimming in her big blue eyes. I nod. I assume she’s asking for an overview. For a broad yes/no answer. She doesn’t want or need to know about the years of physical and mental struggle Stephen went through after the attack. ‘I mean, he lost the eye, obviously, but he’s alive. He has a prosthetic one.’

She shudders and rubs my arm briskly. ‘Good Lord above. That poor, poor guy. How utterly horrific.’

I stay silent, because it’s hard to disagree with that.

‘I can’t believe I brought him here,’ she says with a groan as she releases me from her embrace. ‘Jesus fucking Christ. What are the fucking chances?’

I love that Gen looks like a supermodel and sounds for the most part like she’s presentingThe Antiques Roadshowbut actually swears like a sailor. I’ve always found it a brilliant proof of her sincerity. There’s no artifice for her. And right now, her F-bombs at the situation she’s unknowingly put me in are little shows of solidarity. It’s not just me who finds this coincidence—if you can call it that—beyond horrific.

‘He’s your friend.’ I shrug weakly. ‘You weren’t to know.’

‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘but he’s also... Oh, fucking hell.Shite.’

Now it’s her turn to drop her head to her hands.

‘What?’ I ask with growing alarm.

She looks up at me, what looks like conflict written all over her face. ‘Nothing.Hell.’ She inhales, nostrils flaring like she’s bracing for something. ‘Right. Here’s what we’ll do.I’m going to put you in a cab home—no, don’t argue. It’s the least I can do. I’ll get someone to cover for you. And I’m going to go and have a little chat with Mr Wright.’

3

ADAM

I’m used to women staring.

But not likethat.

The staring happens a lot. It tends to take the form of recognition or desire or curiosity or intimidation—sometimes a mixture of all those. But I’ll tell you now: that mysterious beauty back there, in a jewel-encrusted catsuit that I’d swear was high-end ready-to-wear if not actual couture, stared at me with nothing short of horror.

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