Montague Street was about a mile from where I lived, slap bang in the middle of town. Drew had purchased number twenty-two, a dilapidated and frankly rather ugly two storey building, on moving back to Stow Newton three years ago. He'd intended to do the place up in his spare time, convert it into two flats and flog them off at a profit as soon as possible.
In the event, he'd done everything except sell the flats, staying put in the top flat where he'd camped out during the renovation and renting out the bottom flat to a work colleague. It was far too convenient a location to leave, what with its proximity to the High Street, secure off-street parking, the fact it was staggering distance from his favourite pub and also—the cherry on the cake as far as Drew was concerned—that it was two streets away from the railway station.
But there was no getting away from the ugliness. It didn't help that the rest of the street wasn't exactly picture postcard material, being comprised of ramshackle terraced houses, a row of disused garages and a second hand car lot. Understandable then, that the taxi driver appeared somewhat dubious about the prospect of dropping me off there.
"Is this the right place?" he asked with a frown. "You sure you meant Montague Street?"
I smiled grimly. "Yep."
"Will you be okay here? Do you want me to wait?"
I resisted the urge to laugh. Right now, there seemed to be enough adrenalin coursing through my veins for me to consider going a couple of rounds with a heavyweight boxing champion. "I think I'll be fine, thanks." Gathering up Drew's jacket and my handbag, I leaned forward to inspect the taximeter. "How much do I owe you?"
"You don't, love. It's all been paid for already. Charged to the hotel."
"Oh!" Trust Marco. I hadn't even known you could do that sort of thing. "Well, er—thank you." Was I supposed to tip him anyway? Deciding to err on the side of caution, I gave him a couple of pound coins. "Thanks."
"No, thank
you
love," he called as I got out. "And hey, wait a mo?" He wound down his window and held out a business card. "Take this, just in case? I'm on all night. Just ask for Joe."
I pushed it into the side pocket of my handbag with a smile. "Thanks."
He nodded, gave me one last concerned glance then drove on, leaving me alone in the dimly lit street, the roar of the engine fading into the distance.
Right then.
Pulling my coat around me more tightly, I looked up at Drew's flat, somewhat surprised to see there weren't any lights on. For a split second, I knew a moment of regret. Perhaps it might've been wise to check he was home before letting the cabbie go. But a quick peek through the slats of the wooden gates guarding the small parking area to the right of the building reassured me on that score. He was there all right—well, his car was there. And anyway, he'd said he was going home, hadn't he?
Oh yes. If I remembered rightly, he said he was tired because he'd 'ended up having a late night last night'. He'd been 'helping a friend do something she'd never done before' but luckily, she was a 'fast learner' and—what was it, again? She was 'already putting her new-found skills into practice'?
The mere recollection was enough to set me in motion again. I hammered on his front door, knowing full well there was little point in ringing the bell. It hadn't worked for over a year.
A dog barked twice. Other than that, nothing.
Shivering now, I stepped back to the pavement and looked up at the flat for signs of life. He was up there, I was almost certain. But no lights were going on and I couldn't see any fluttering of curtains. Either he was choosing to ignore the racket or he was in such a deep sleep, nothing short of Armageddon was going to wake him.
I banged on the door once more, wishing I had something heavier than my fists at hand. "Drew!" I shouted when there was still no response. "Come on!" And deciding I no longer cared that it was late at night or that I might just upset his neighbours, I thundered on the door yet again. "Drew! Get down here now and—oh!"
I practically fell inside the door as it swung open, only saved the indignity of hitting the floor because Drew reached out and dragged me inside, his strong fingers cutting in through the sleeves of my coat as he kicked the door closed behind us again. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded gruffly, his breath warm on my face in the darkness.
"Trying to get you to hear me. Where the hell were you?"
"In bed." Drew sounded aggrieved. "Sleeping. Well, I was almost asleep, anyway. What's going on? What are you doing here? Are you okay?"
"Am I okay?" I echoed sarcastically. "Okay? Sure, I'm fine, Drew. Never better. And how are you? Have a nice evening, did we?"
"Jesus." I felt rather than saw him shake his head. "You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk!"
"You bloody well are. I can smell it on you. You're four sheets to the fucking wind!"
"I am
not
bloody drunk, okay?" I growled, wrenching myself out of his arms. "If you must know, I came here to bring you your fucking jacket, you ungrateful, miserable git."
"I see." It was Drew's turn to sound sarcastic. "Well in that case, I s'pose I'd better say thank you, hadn't I? Cos I don't know how I could possibly have managed to live through the night without it."
"Oh, you—" I made a frustrated growling sound through my teeth, threw his jacket at him and blundered towards what I hoped was the stairs. It was difficult to see anything in the darkness, but I was pretty sure they were straight ahead of me.
"Yes, why don't you come on in?" I heard Drew say behind me as I fell headlong over the first step, that dry note back in his voice. "Go on up, make yourself at home, slap me about a bit more. And I'll make us a nice cup of tea, shall I?"
"Why the fuck can't you—
ow
—put any lights on?"
"Because," he said with a heavy sigh, making me squeak as his hands looped around my waist, "some of us can see perfectly well in the dark. Come on."
Hauling me upright, he frogmarched me up the stairs and into the flat, only then pausing to flip on a light switch. I blinked hard, momentarily blinded. "I didn't think you'd really be in bed," I muttered as he tugged my coat from my shoulders and hung it up with his jacket. "I thought..."
I squinted around the room, searching for evidence he hadn't really turned in for the night, glancing at the battered brown leather sofas, strewn with newspapers as usual, the multitude of discarded mugs on the coffee table and finally at the overflowing bookcase on the far wall, legal tomes and paperback thrillers contending for shelf space. No clues here. Drew only tidied up on very special occasions. "I thought you were just saying that to..."
"To what?" He swept past me to switch on a lamp.
"To make a—" I stopped again when he came straight back, realising for the first time he was clad only in a grey t-shirt and plaid boxer shorts, his blond hair sleep-tousled. He reached around me and turned off the main light again, returning the room to a more comfortable level of brightness. "Point," I finished wearily.
"Damn right I was making a point." Drew left his hand against the wall, half-trapping me in place, his body casting a long shadow over mine.
I winced, noticing the faint but distinct pink mark to the right of his top lip. Holy crap, had I really hit him that hard? "Drew..."
"What's that?"
The steely note in his voice brought all thoughts of making an apology to an abrupt halt. I followed the direction of his gaze to my wrist.
Damn
. "It's—it's a watch." I'd meant to take it off. Why hadn't I taken it off?
"I can see it's a watch, Sam." He snatched up my hand to make a closer inspection, whistling under his breath. "A fucking expensive one at that. Very pretty. You let him give you this?"
He said the word 'him' as though Marco was a particularly unpleasant slug who'd just crawled out from beneath a rock.
"It's a birthday present," I told him, trying to pull my hand from his. "That's all. I couldn't—"
"You let him get you a watch when I've wanted to get you one for years? Telling me you wouldn't wear one even if I did so there was no point—"
"I'm
not
going to wear it, okay?" I could feel my eyes prickling as I finally managed to yank my fingers free and began grappling with the catch on the delicate bracelet. "I could hardly say I wasn't going to wear it, could I? That the last time I wore a watch..." I trailed off, too close to tears to finish.
I didn't need to finish anyway. Drew knew that the last time I'd worn a watch had been at the hospital when I donated a kidney to my brother. In that small, two-bedded side ward, the night before our operations, Paul and I had become embroiled in a half-serious, half-joking debate about how he'd never be able to repay me for my generosity which had evolved into a kind of 'shucks, we're family, what's mine is yours' play fight.
We'd swapped socks, shampoo, towels, even the cardboard vomit bowls sitting on top of our lockers and had eventually traded our watches. Mine was a simple but girly affair with a big face and a black leather strap which Paul had had to buckle on the last hole, his a day-glo orange Velcro diver's watch. It had looked ludicrous perched there above my hand, but not nearly so ludicrous as my watch looked on Paul's rather less dainty and considerably more hairy wrist.
By the end of the evening, we'd swapped most things back again but kept our newly-acquired watches. It seemed a comforting thing to do, even if we would have to take them off before going into surgery.
The watch Paul was wearing stopped during the night. He showed me it in the morning, the hands frozen at three forty-seven.
Hope that's not a bad omen, sis.
I managed to unfasten the clasp at last, pulling the golden chain from my wrist with trembling fingers. "What was I supposed to do?" I croaked, wrenching my handbag from my shoulder and dropping the watch inside. "Tell him thanks but no thanks? I was in his room, for heaven's sake. I could hardly—"
"What the hell were you doing in his room, Sam?" Drew demanded. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
That brought me up short. Blinking hard, I gave him an incredulous look. "What do you mean, what was I thinking? What do you think I was doing there? You think I
wanted
