The bar staff were young and hip, and over the bar hung several clocks showing the time in London, Beijing and Riyadh, among others. Helen went to the back of the pub through a doorway decorated with acid-blue fairy lights, so bright against the red-painted walls they hurt her eyes. The room was cosy with dark wood tables and squashy armchairs.
The caller sat in an armchair by a tall window overlooking an outdoor smokers’ area. He was clad in grey trousers, a shapeless anorak, and dirty white trainers, and was nursing a pint of bitter which made him stand out in the wine-bar type surroundings. A packet of crisps had been ripped open on the table in front of him, and by his feet, eyeing the packet intensely, was a large brown dog.
An Airedale Terrier.
Charlie and Jason were ensconced at a table in the darkest corner, heads close together. Lee waited outside as they’d agreed, to distract the man with questions about dogs if he tried to follow Helen.
Approaching him, she said, ‘Are you the dog owner from the Common?’
‘That I am, luv.’ He stuck his hand out for her to shake.
His touch was warm and strong. A chunky gold bracelet hung from a wiry wrist, and the words ‘love’ and ‘hate’ were tattooed on his knuckles. Prison tattoos?
She could be shaking hands with her mother’s killer, but it didn’t seem likely.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he said.
Tongue-tied, she sat down on the edge of the chair. She’d started to think she’d imagined him and the dog, and now here he was, a flesh and blood person, with ill-fitting clothes, crows’ feet, and a lilting accent. The questions which had been queuing up in her head were now falling over themselves to be asked, but nothing came out of her mouth.
‘The name’s Declan. And yours?’
Her tongue untied itself. ‘Helen.’
‘Well, Helen,’ he said, smiling, ‘I often wondered what became of you, what sort of life you had and that, and here you are, all grown up, asking me what happened. Don’t you know?’
She frowned. Was he testing her, trying to figure out how much she saw, and then decide whether he ought to finish the job or not? Or was he just the careful type?
She weighed the possibilities, grateful for Charlie and Jason in the corner, and Lee outside on the pavement. Her own personal backup team.
‘I didn’t see anything,’ she said. ‘I’m an epileptic and had a seizure at the time, so I wasn’t aware of my surroundings. When I came to, my mother was dead.’
It surprised her how easy she found it, using the dreaded E word. She’d started feeling differently about her condition, but the change was so gradual she couldn’t tell when.
‘Right.’ He sent her a look as if he thought she was having him on. Then he shrugged and took a crisp from the packet, left it on the edge of the table in front of the dog, and said, ‘It’s a southern bas’tud.’
The dog drooled but didn’t eat the crisp. Helen was about to say something, but Declan stopped her with his hand.
‘Wait.’
Another moment passed by with the dog staring down the crisp. Then Declan relented. ‘Go on, boy, it’s a northerner.’
The dog hoovered up the snack, then turned his large, doleful eyes at his owner who repeated the action. Southerner, yuk, northerner, yum. It was absurd.
‘They’re clever dogs,’ he said when he’d proved his point. ‘A lot of people don’t know that. They just see these big, brown eyes and the floppy ears, and think Airedales are a bit divvy. I’ve always had Airedales, but Chuck, who I had back then, was something else. I should’ve listened to him.’
‘Could he talk?’
Declan grinned. ‘Sort of. That morning he was dashing here and there, sniffing around in his usual zigzag pattern. You know dogs walk in zigzags, don’t you?’
‘Sure.’ Helen hadn’t a clue.
‘After we’d done one round of the Common, I saw you in that car, and yer ma,’ he continued. ‘And there was another car with a woman in it. I walked by a couple of times, and it was obvious she was spying on you, so I knocked on her window asking her what she was up to. She got arsy, and I told her to hop it.
‘Then she asked if I knew where there was a public loo. Not one open at this hour, I said. Then she got out, started shouting at yer ma who hadn’t actually seen her until then. This led to a right old slanging match, and I had a real job of holding onto Chuck who was snarling and barking like mad. He was a good dog, was Chuck, but he had a temper on him.’ He sighed and patted the placid dog beside him.
‘Do you remember if anyone else was there?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. It’s not particularly clear after all these years.’