The Elephant Girl(21)

‘My crime?’

Her eyes flew to his and suddenly there was such a fiendish rage in them, a deeper and older rage different from the one before, that he almost stepped back in alarm. Then her shoulders slumped.

‘Let’s just say someone died who shouldn’t have,’ she said softly.

‘Who?’

For a moment she stared at a point somewhere over his shoulder. He feared this was her way of saying she wasn’t going to answer his question, and if she didn’t, he couldn’t allow her to have the room, simple as that.

Which would be a crying shame.

Finally she said, ‘A child.’

‘A child?’ he repeated and sent her a startled look.

It was the first thing which had sprung to mind because there was a certain, odd truth to it – a part of her had died that day and her childhood with it – but she could see now that perhaps it hadn’t been the smartest thing to say. Everyone hated child killers, and rightly so. However, it was too late to take it back. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe her now.

She found herself torn. She rarely went out of her way to make people like her, would often push them away because it was easier that way, and she’d prefer Jason’s condemnation to him knowing the real reason she was here. At the same time the thought of being condemned by someone who seemed so tolerant of others was almost unbearable. Dammit, she wanted him to like her.

When he said nothing, just continued to stare at her, she turned away and headed down the stairs. Talk about messing up. Story of my life, she thought.

He caught her arm, the lightest of touches. ‘Was it an accident?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, surprised he even bothered with her.

Something must have made him think she wasn’t the devil incarnate. He smiled suddenly, and she basked in the glory of that smile like a sun-starved tourist. It transformed his face, lit up the intensely blue eyes, and the little goatee she’d scoffed at so rudely no longer looked like a gravy stain, but instead soft and beguiling, inviting her to trace it with her finger. She stopped before she made another mistake.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘There’ll be time enough to talk about that another day. Now for the boring bit. The rent money covers bills and council tax. I don’t charge much because most of my tenants are on benefits of some kind. I’m not making a profit, but that’s not why I do it anyway.’

They had reached the bottom of the stairs and Jason pushed open the door to the kitchen.

‘Why do you do it?’ she asked.

The television was blaring and Fay was grinding coffee beans. Helen didn’t quite hear his answer but it sounded like ‘indulgence’, which puzzled her because he didn’t seem like the self-indulgent type.

‘So what do you think?’

Coffee ready, Jason put mugs on the table with a carton of milk and a sugar bowl. Helen counted five cups, so they obviously expected her to stay for coffee whether she moved in or not. As she wondered about the last mug, she caught the eyes of the woman who’d made her life a misery. Fay was smiling.

One day you won’t be smiling like that.

‘I like it,’ she replied to Jason’s question.

‘Fantastic,’ said Charlie. ‘We could do with another woman in the house.’ She reached for the coffee pot, sloshed coffee into four mugs, then passed them around. There seemed to be a special unity between the three of them, the way they would follow up on each other’s actions. It was like a strange, modern dance, beautifully choreographed, and Helen wondered if she’d ever find that.

The last mug was still standing empty in the centre of the table. As if on cue, the kitchen door banged open and a young man came in. He was lanky with mocha skin and almond-shaped brown eyes framed by thick dark lashes, and his black hair was arranged in thin plaits running across his scalp in a sideways pattern. He wore a tight-fitting T-shirt, low slung hipster jeans, and a chunky silver chain around his neck, and looked like a cover model for a hip hop fashion magazine.

She wasn’t the only one affected by his presence. Charlie had gone rigid, but it was hard to say whether this was due to attraction or dislike.

‘This is Lee,’ said Jason. ‘He lives on the top floor. Lee, Helen’s going to move in across from Fay.’

Lee filled the last mug, stirring in milk and sugar. ‘C-cool,’ he stuttered and left the room.

‘He doesn’t say much,’ Jason explained.

Charlie scowled. ‘That’s because he has nothing to say for himself.’

Definitely dislike.

‘Charlie,’ Jason warned.

Charlie ignored him. ‘He’s nasty. He mugged some old lady and kicked her in the stomach when she was too terrified to let go off her handbag. I just think Helen ought to know before she moves in that Lee’s done time for violence.’