Page 81 of A Face in the Crowd
I step into the hallway and the floor creaks gently underneath my foot. ‘Can you tell me who lived there?’ I ask.
‘We did talk about this. I can go—’
‘Was it someone called Peter?’
There’s a pause that’s long enough to serve as confirmation.
‘I’ll be over later,’ Lauren says, more firmly this time. ‘Is there anything else?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Lauren says goodbye and then hangs up. It’s only as my phone flashes back to the main screen that I realise the time. I have a job interview in exactly an hour.
There’s a part of me that can’t quite comprehend going to it given everything that’s happened in the past twelve hours or so. It feels like such a normal thing in a world that’s now abnormal. I’m not sure what the alternative is, though. There might be a link from Lauren to Ben – or Peter as he calls himself. I could tell the police and let them look into it, but, for now, if I miss that interview then I’m not sure where it leaves me. If Benhasgone for good, or even if he hasn’t, I still have a life to lead.
I blink away thoughts of Jade and what happened to her. It’s selfish, I know, but it isn’t like I’m forgetting her for good. I pull the door to her old apartment closed and then rush back into my flat for a shower.
Fifteen minutes later and I’m almost ready to go – with one small problem.
I hurry down the hall to Karen’s, partly to check that she’s still sentient. The last time I saw her, she was swaying from side to side and slurring. She answers moments after I knock and, to great surprise, is wearing yoga leggings, a vest and her running shoes.
‘I know!’ she says as I goggle at her.
‘I was checking you were all right,’ I say. ‘I didn’t expect you to be in anything other than a dressing gown at best.’
‘It’s a miracle. I drank so much, I thought I’d be hung-over until the kids are back tomorrow night – but I’ve defied science. I’m a medical marvel. I’m going to Parkrun in a bit.’
‘Could you take Billy? I’ve got my interview and—’
‘Of course. Drop him round. He’s going to have to run a bit slower with me, though.’
Karen is on her way out but waits in the corridor for a couple of minutes as I collect Billy and check I have everything I need. The fact it’s all such a rush is probably a good thing because I’ve not had time to be nervous about the interview itself. There are bigger things clouding my mind.
Billy doesn’t seem to mind and happily trots down the stairs at Karen’s side. It’s hard to know who’s the traitor – me for abandoning him, or him for dutifully ambling along with somebody else.
When we get outside, Karen heads towards the park, or, more to the point, Billy sets off towards the park with Karen in tow. She laughs a cheery ‘good luck’ and then she’s off around the corner of the building. I head the other way to the community centre and the bus stop beyond. The last time I walked this way, I was in the middle of the road in the dark, nervously checking the shadows in case Ben had stayed around. It feels different now. Leaves are billowing along the gutters as a pair of lads in football kit walk along the other side of the road. One has a ball under his arm and both have string bags on their backs. There’s nobody else in sight, including at the deserted bus stop.
It’s hard to stop my mind wandering as I wait. I want to think about the interview, how I don’t have a job and that I need this. Ben’s money is upstairs in my flat, but the allure has gone. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to spend it. Jade’s face keeps eclipsing everything else. As mad as I’ll sound, I need to tell the police that I saw Ben and that he’s calling himself Peter. They can check with Lauren and, if there’s a paper trail, they could find him.
The bus chugs into the stop with a guff of noxious air and the doors fizz open. I flash my pass to the driver, who barely looks at it before nodding and punching a button to close the door behind me. The bus is probably half full, with almost everyone staring at their phones. I move along the aisle, but the driver sets off before I sit and I stumble into an empty pair of seats largely by default. The CCTV dome is a row ahead of me and I can’t believe I never noticed it. I stare at it now, thinking of the person on the other side who might have to wade through the footage if a nutter like me phones up.
My thoughts slip to barely a week ago when it all started on this bus. I was standing a couple of metres from where I am now when that envelope of money dropped into my bag and everything changed. Or, to some degree, nothing changed. I’m still paying off somebody else’s debts and living pay packet to pay packet. Everything’s different except nothing is. I might spend the rest of my life wondering if Ben – or Peter – will return. Or, perhaps the memory of last night will dim and I’ll be left questioning whether it happened at all.
The bus pulls in at the next stop and a couple bluster their way along the aisle from behind me to get off. A small queue of people replaces them. Some head past me along the aisle; others risk the disabled seats at the front, hoping nobody with a wheelchair gets on.
I check the address of the office for my interview on my phone and then try to give myself a pep talk.Be confident, be yourself; all that. It’s all fine as long as they’re looking for someone like me.
Another stop and more people get on and off. My palms are starting to sweat now. It’s probably fifteen minutes until my stop – and then, forget being myself, I have to somehow pretend to be a competent, sociable human being. That’s life, I suppose. Pretend we know what’s going on until it becomes apparent to everyone else that we clearly do not. Sometimes that can take a day, other times it is years. Life is a collection of people not really knowing what they’re doing.
I check the address again, even though it’s etched in my mind. The bus is filling up and there’s a shuffling from behind until someone drops in next to me. I glance sideways in the way people do when trying to look at a person without making it too obvious. This time, I stop and stare.
‘Hi,’ Ben says. He’s wearing a cap that’s pulled down and covering his eyebrows. The shape of his face is unmistakeable.
‘I—’
‘Shhhhhhh,’ he says so quietly that I barely hear him. He’s staring straight ahead, not looking at me, but then his gaze flickers down to his arm. I don’t notice it at first, but now I see the glimmer of light catching the tip of the knife that’s protruding a few centimetres from his jacket.
‘What—’
