Page 20 of A Face in the Crowd
It was Ben, of course. It’s always Ben. I’ve seen him everywhere in the five years since the train crash. He’d be a customer walking out of the supermarket, or someone on the opposite side of the street. It was always half glimpses, or sideways stares, never anything firm. I looked it up on the internet and the pseudoscientists and blogger therapists all say it’s normal after a trauma. Ben’s in my mind again after I dumped my life story on poor Harry. His debt became my debt – and that became my life.
‘Are you okay?’
I turn back to Quinn, but both boys are now staring up at me with puzzled expressions.
‘Of course,’ I say, ‘let’s get back home.’
I risk another quick glimpse towards the wolf – but he’s no longer in the alcove and the only other people at that end of the street are theStar Warsparents with their weary kids.
Billy is flagging – he’s not used to all this late-night walking – and I have to carry him up the stairs of Hamilton House until we’re on our floor. I take the boys past my apartment to Karen’s and then use the spare key to let them in. Quinn shoots straight off to the bathroom as Tyler starts trying to pick the rest of the twigs from his costume. Billy wanders around, confused at why we’re in the wrong flat. I’m about to flick on the kettle when the front door creaks and pops open, to reveal an out-of-breath Karen.
‘You’re back,’ I say, apparently unable to do anything other than state the obvious.
Karen unbuttons her coat and bats Tyler away from taking up the entire sofa before flopping onto it herself. She thanks me for looking after the boys and then Tyler pours his entire haul of sweets onto the floor to show her the type of night he’s had. Quinn returns and does the same and then they start trading back and forth. It’s a bit like the stock exchange, but with less childishness.
Probably unsurprisingly, Karen leaves them to it and joins me in the kitchen.
‘How was your evening?’ I ask.
She looks towards the boys and says ‘Fine,’ seemingly unwilling to say much more about it. ‘How was yours?’ she adds.
‘Not bad. Tyler had to keep telling people he was Groot and not a random tree – but good other than that.’
We watch them for a moment and then I remember the other thing I spent money on. I dig into to my bag and take out the pair of £50 gift cards.
‘I got these for the boys,’ I tell Karen as I pass them to her. ‘I didn’t want to give them over tonight without checking with you.’
Karen twists the cards around and squints to read the words on the back. The children will be able to upload the credit to their phones and use it to buy games, apps, music, or whatever.
‘It’s so much money,’ Karen whispers.
I hold my hands up to say it’s fine and she bats away a yawn, before apologising. Her eyelids are sagging and she looks ready for bed.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ she adds. ‘It’s too much.’
She doesn’t need to say it because I can practically hear her thoughts. This is money I’d usually need for rent, food and to get around. One hundred pounds is more than I can afford. Strangely, when I saw the cards near the till at the shopping centre, it hadn’t crossed my mind that I’d have to justify buying them.
‘I won a bit of money on a scratch card,’ I say, surprising myself at the ease of the lie.
Karen’s eyes widen. ‘You lucky cow!’ She leans in and lowers her voice: ‘How much?’
I shrug non-committedly. She can read into it what she wants, but my lies are already piling up.
‘Bloody hell,’ she mutters. ‘Well, if anyone deserves it, it’s you. I hope you spend the rest on yourself.’
I smile wanly, not sure what to say.
‘How are the party plans going?’ I ask, hoping she doesn’t notice the obvious segue.
Karen’s features brighten. ‘Good. The boys are off to their dad’s for a bonfire, plus everything else is all booked. Just got to hope people turn up.’
‘I’m sure they will.’
She yawns again, which I take as my hint to go. I leave my tea largely unfinished on the counter and she leads me to the door. Billy trudges behind, also ready for bed, as I say goodnight to the boys. They’re more concerned with hedging whether two mini Bounty bars are worth a single Snickers, with Quinn insisting that ‘nobody likes Bounties’.
It feels dark as I head into the corridor, something I seemingly missed when I was rushing inside with a toilet-bound Quinn. Karen notices it too and we take a moment to realise the light in the corner is out.
‘I don’t think it was like that yesterday,’ Karen says as she leans on her door frame. ‘I’ll text Lauren.’
