Greenwich Park by Katherine Faulkner (primary phonics .TXT) 📕

it a secret that we knew each other from the club. I didn’t really understand why, but she just kept saying it was important, that I needed to trust her.’ He raises his eyes again, looks at me. ‘She said there was something she needed to do, and she couldn’t do it if people knew who she really was.’

I stare at him, incredulous. ‘You went along with this? Knowing she was lying to your sister – moving herself into their house?’

‘I didn’t know she had moved in with Helen. She said she was just staying a night or two. I didn’t think – that she was lying, exactly. Oh, I don’t know – she was so intense about it. I just agreed because … well, it seemed a bit easier, for one thing.’

I frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on, Katie,’ he hisses. ‘Obviously I didn’t want you to know about me and her. You’d given me another chance, I didn’t want to fuck it up again. All right?’

I stare up to the ceiling, try to focus on the line of brass lights, the mahogany pillars, the mirrors bordered in green and gold. I try not to let the tears welling in my eyes spill down my face. This is not what’s important, I tell myself. There is a girl who could be dead.

‘So Rachel wasn’t having an affair with Rory?’

Charlie’s eyes widen. ‘With Rory? God, no. I mean – God, not as far as I know. What makes you say that?’

I ignore him.

‘And the baby? If there was a baby?’

He drops his head, pulls at his hair again.

‘As far as I know, she really was pregnant,’ he says miserably. ‘I asked her if it was mine. At Helen’s party. When you saw us talking.’

I nod, grimly. At least I wasn’t going mad. I knew it wasn’t some casual chat. The look in her eyes. It was important.

‘She told me it wasn’t. That I shouldn’t worry.’ He pauses. ‘But honestly?’ He swallows, looks away. ‘The timing would … sort of fit. So … I don’t know.’

The waiter returns, takes Charlie’s empty bottle. I order another glass.

We are silent for a long time, after that. My wine arrives and I take a large gulp from the glass.

Charlie clears his throat. ‘Katie, I swear you and me weren’t back together then, or I would never have –’

I cough my wine back into my glass, then slam it down, cheeks flaming. ‘Oh my God, Charlie. Are you fucking serious? This is so far from being about you and me. Jesus.’

I fold my arms. I can’t look at him. And when I finally do, I realise it is over between us. It has to be. And in that moment, I can see that he knows it too.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ I say eventually. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’

‘I want you to believe me.’ His eyes are wide. He grabs for my hand again, over the table. ‘Katie, I have no idea what happened to Rachel, OK? I had nothing to do with any of this. I was telling the truth about the cellar thing – whoever you saw her go down there with, it wasn’t me. That time you saw us together, when we were talking – that was the last time I saw her. I swear. She told me the baby wasn’t mine. We talked a bit. Then we parted as friends. That was it. Honestly.’

We sit in silence for a while. I have another sip of wine. I can tell that Charlie is searching my face, trying to work out what I’m thinking.

‘I still haven’t told the police about the cellar thing,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m starting to wonder if I even saw it. Maybe I was just pissed. Maybe I was seeing things.’

Charlie says nothing. I rub my hands over my face.

‘This is a fucking mess, Charlie.’

‘I know.’

I finish my wine. When the waiter arrives, asking if I want another, I nod without even thinking.

‘How have you left things with the police?’

Charlie scowls, rubs his knuckles against the side of his head. ‘At first they didn’t seem that bothered when I went in and made that statement,’ he says. ‘But now this new team have taken over, they’re all over me. Taken my phone, searched my flat. It’s because of getting done last year. They’ll pin something on me if they can.’

‘So why has Rory been arrested?’

He shrugs. ‘No idea. If Rory knew Rachel, that’s news to me.’ He pauses. ‘Can we go for a smoke?’

I wince. ‘It’s so cold out there.’

‘Have my jacket.’

So we sit on Kensington High Street, and he smokes, and I cradle my glass of wine in both hands, his jacket around my shoulders. I look over at the blinking Christmas lights, the sparkling window displays. People are flagging cabs, gloved hands outstretched. Shiny black taxis purr up beside them, their wheels quiet in the slush.

‘I know what people think,’ he says. ‘What the police think. You can see it all over their faces. They talk to me like I’m a drug dealer or something.’

He looks so sad.

‘Come on, Charlie. No one thinks you’re a drug dealer.’

‘Not you. But them. Them and my fucking brother. You know after everything, he still expects me to bring him stuff, to his parties. It’s the only reason the two of them want me around. Fucking hypocrites.’

‘What do you mean, the two of them?’

Charlie shakes his head. ‘Forget I said anything.’

‘Charlie, come on. What are you talking about? Does Serena ask you for stuff too?’

He exhales a plume of smoke into the night air. ‘No. Well. Not coke, anyway.’

I stare at him.

‘What then?’

‘It was only once recently she asked me for something. It pissed me off, that’s all. I told her no way. Anyway, she wanted weird stuff – stuff I’d have no fucking idea how to get.’

‘What?’

‘Some kind of benzo, something heavy-duty. Xanax, maybe, or diazepam?’

I’m stunned. ‘Are we talking about the same Serena here?’

He