Unsound, p.7
Unsound, page 7
Olivia keeps her hand on his arm, warming him and making him forget Natalie. The earlier part of the night vanishes like smoke. There is only now. ‘Jonno, are you sure about this?’
Jonno seems to have sobered up and is now the picture of a gentleman. ‘Perfectly. Oh ye of little faith.’ And he strides forward into the dark, rapping on a door in a part of the alley that smells of piss and takeaways. Nothing happens. Colleen groans and Olivia lets out another giggle.
‘Oh, man,’ Arran says. ‘You’ve finally lost it.’ Jonno swipes playfully at him and then turns back to the door. Arran’s about to suggest they run back and see if they can wave down the cab, when the vast door opens a crack, revealing a sliver of a person – a suspicious eye peering at them.
‘Not tonight,’ the voice says.
Arran feels himself rocking backwards, deflated. But the words have the opposite effect on Jonno, who rises a step and holds out a card he has pulled from his blazer. He says something that sounds like ‘salt’ or ‘saltire’ to Arran’s addled ears and the door swings back. Before he knows what’s happening, Olivia grabs his hand, her skin warm and smooth as silk. Arran is up the steps with the rest of them and they are swallowed by the house.
The man who opened the door is dressed in black tie. He takes their coats and gives Jonno a gleaming brass disc with a number on. Jonno hands over a credit card and Arran says, ‘Can I…’ but Jonno shakes his head.
‘You have to be a member,’ he says.
‘How do you even know about this?’ Colleen looks both awed and disapproving. Arran can see she feels as much a fish out of water as he does, but her dislike of privilege and pomp are holding her back. Jonno doesn’t answer, is already following the man through a series of poorly lit rooms sheathed in dark wallpaper, where dripping plants and sumptuous velvet furniture make it glamorous and cosy at the same time.
He takes Colleen’s arm and leans in to whisper to her.
‘I never do anything like this. Let’s enjoy it?’
She looks up at him, face clouded, but then it clears of guilt and a grin spreads over her lips. Arran straightens his back, tries to pretend he’s born to this and follows the others.
They are led to a booth so circular that it’s like a teacup ride at the fair. The walls are lined with ancient-looking books, and voices sparkle around them, refracting from the crystal chandeliers and the glasses and bottles on the bar. Men with slicked-back hair and embroidered waistcoats shake cocktails and bring dishes of nuts and crackers to place before them.
Arran looks at Jonno, perfectly at home, with his arm slung over the back of the booth, and a burst of love and envy explodes inside him. As they nestle in and talk, dissecting their lives, the people around them in halls, the things they feel so deeply, he experiences a level of connection and happiness so strong that he thinks it cannot be contained.
Jonno sees his face, reaches out and ruffles his hair. They all lean in together in one amorphous heap of warmth and Colleen, several cocktails down, mumbles what Arran is feeling deep inside. ‘I think I love you guys.’ No one laughs at her.
When Colleen and Jonno are engaged in an intense debate on the fairness or unfairness of inheritance tax, Arran turns to Olivia. She is incandescent, her blonde hair down for once and tumbling around her face. He’s reminded that she was asleep until Jonno roused her for this adventure. To him, she looks like an angel.
‘I’m glad you got out of bed for this,’ he says.
‘Me too.’ Her fingers entwine with his and it’s hard to explain, but there’s no expectation or agenda between them. It’s more than that. He drinks in the proximity of her, happy to sit here forever just to be close to these people. He’s never had friends like this before.
It’s a grey dawn when they finally leave the house and stumble out into the main street. They were almost the last ones left inside.
‘When does it close?’ Arran asks in wonder, looking back at the alley, which seems to his exhausted eyes to have melted away. Maybe all of this is a dream or an illusion.
‘It doesn’t,’ Jonno says. ‘As long as people want to drink, it stays open.’
‘Imagine not knowing what time you’re going to finish work,’ he mutters, without thinking. Jonno roars with laughter and slings his arm around Arran’s neck.
The street is still wet, but the rain has stopped and the early-morning quiet is punctuated by the clip of the first commuters on their way to work. What do they think of these drunken students in their midst? What would his father think if he could see him now? He pushes the thought away. It wouldn’t be good. He’s here to work, to learn and then implement. Not for frivolity.
‘Bacon rolls, anyone?’
Arran is saved from introspection. They all chorus their agreement and link arms, following Jonno as he leads the way once more, a Pied Piper taking them into another world.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CAL
Shona drops him off at the station. They talked last night, about Arran. Cal gently suggested that suicide looks a distinct possibility – the personality change, the absence of a body or a lead. Shona was adamant that Angie knew her son, that this wasn’t an option. It’s so unlike her to be irrational. It’s almost as if he and she are taking different sides on this because it’s the easier fight to have. She hasn’t brought up the topic of him moving in again, but it’s there, hovering between them like mist.
‘I’ll call you later,’ he says, leaning in for a kiss.
‘Aye,’ she tells him, accepting rather than returning it.
The train from Aberdeen to Edinburgh takes two and a half hours. Cal watches the sea, grey and rolling, as the carriages make their way south. He has called Chrissie to let her know that he’ll be there for a few days, making enquiries, but he hasn’t heard back from her yet, though he keeps checking his phone.
To distract himself, he goes through the notes he made when talking to Arran’s mother. Arran had told her he was friends with people in his corridor – a boy and two girls – but she wasn’t sure of their names. None of them materialised when she was there, looking. She thinks maybe the girlfriend, Natalie, might know more.
The lack of detail strikes him hard in the gut. He makes a mental note to ask Chrissie the full names of her friends, in case he ever needs them. Maybe she should give him their numbers too. Just in case. At least Natalie has been easy enough to track down. She now works in policy in the Scottish Executive and has agreed to meet him for coffee.
At Waverley station, he leaves his bag in left luggage and walks up in the direction of the Scottish Parliament. Arthur’s Seat looms over the city; the sky above is laden with heavy clouds, not so much threatening as promising rain.
Cal waits for Natalie in a small coffee shop painted purple – even the tables and chairs are shades of indigo. A glass-fronted display houses an indecent number of cakes, cut into doorstop-shaped wedges, and he imagines bringing Chrissie here at some point, feels the need to see her. He checks his phone, but she still hasn’t replied. Lectures, perhaps. He hates the swelling feeling in his chest that accompanies this lack of contact. It’s the habit of anxiety, that’s all.
After a few moments, a woman in a pair of smart black trousers, turquoise shirt and beige mackintosh enters the cafe and hovers just inside the doorway, scanning the patrons. Her brown hair is neatly clipped back. Cal stands and waves uncertainly, and she crosses to him, relief on her face.
‘Natalie? Thanks for meeting me.’
‘Not at all. I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll try. Arran disappeared in our first year – it seems such a long time ago.’ Her brown eyes are big and soulful, her most distinguishing feature. Cal wonders what she was like as a student in the city. Will his daughter seem this grown-up soon?
‘Let me get you a coffee.’ He stands in the queue for drinks for a few minutes, shifting from foot to foot, wishing the barista would stop chatting, as Natalie is giving up her lunch break for this and will have to get back soon. But when he looks over at her, she’s gazing out of the window, not checking her phone. Her posture is so still, it’s unnatural, like she isn’t actually here at all.
‘I still think about Arran quite often,’ she admits when he sets the latte down in front of her. ‘It’s the not knowing that kills you. I can’t believe it’s been thirteen years. I used to think about him constantly, even when we left uni. Used to see him in the street. The number of times I ran after some poor man and scared the life out of him.’ She looks down, her cheeks reddening.
‘Forgive me, the only information I have is from Arran’s family so far. His mum seems to think you and he were—’
‘Yes,’ she cuts in, instead of dancing around the topic. ‘We were together. I fancied him rotten from the first time I met him.’ Natalie cups her hands around her coffee and looks down into the foam. ‘We started going out a few weeks into term. He was my first proper boyfriend, really. There had been one or two at school, but this was different, you know? Being away from home. Being an adult.’
‘What was he like?’
‘You’ll have seen the pictures. He was good-looking, tall and strong from all the time outdoors on the farm. It wasn’t that he was quiet in a shy way – he just didn’t always seem to need to talk, to be the centre of attention. But people looked up to him. He was confident and good at what he did. Everyone on the course liked him.’
‘You must have spent a lot of time together, then? Doing the same course?’
‘Yeah, he hung out with us sometimes, but he had this intense thing going on with some people in his halls, so he spent a lot of time with them too.’
‘His mum seems to think he was friends with someone called Jonno. Is that who you mean?’
‘That’s him: Jonathan Keble. Very posh, moved in different circles to the rest of us. His father was a lord, I think, had some big estate somewhere. And two girls, Olivia and Colleen.’
‘They were close?’ Natalie nods. ‘If you were seeing him, you must have spent some time with them too.’
‘Not that much. The four of them were such a tight unit. There wasn’t really room for anyone else. It was a bit of a bone of contention between us, to be honest.’ She looks uncomfortable. ‘We used to invite him out all the time, for drinks and things. He came sometimes, but it always felt to me that he was waiting to get back to them, if you know what I mean?’
Cal nods. ‘Have you heard what they’re up to now?’
‘I don’t know about Jonathan, but Olivia did law and works in-house for a big Edinburgh landlord now. I have a friend who works there – I can dig out the details if it helps?’
He pauses, scribbles down some notes. ‘That would be really helpful. And the other girl?’
‘I’m not sure about Colleen – she was hard work, to be honest. Always had a cause she was invested in and prickly about, but I don’t know what she went on to do. I don’t think she liked me very much.’
‘Do you remember what Arran was like before the Christmas holidays?’
‘He was quieter than usual, a bit withdrawn. I didn’t worry too much about it at the time. It was the end of the first term, we were all knackered. There were loads of Christmas parties and plenty of hangovers. Everyone needed to go home for a break. I got the flu for the last few days so ended up shut in my room until my dad came to pick me up.’
Natalie shifts in her seat, glancing at the crowds in the street outside. It has started to rain and people are pulling up hoods, some unwisely wielding umbrellas against the stiff wind. She has barely touched her coffee. He feels like he’s losing her.
‘And were you together when Arran went missing?’
Then Natalie hunches in on herself, and he realises she’s actually trying to hide tears.
‘I’m sorry, asking these questions after all this time.’
‘No…’ She sniffs. ‘It’s fine. If any of this helps… then it’s worth it.’ She clears her throat and takes the tissue that Cal has fished from his bag.
‘We had a huge argument a couple of weeks after the Christmas break. He was different when he came back, really moody and preoccupied, didn’t come to lectures. He said he’d had a row at home, a really bad one, but he wouldn’t talk about it.’ Natalie drops her head into her hands. ‘I should have been more understanding.’
‘None of this is your fault.’ Cal leans forward, trying to help her see that he means it. The legacy of blame and guilt left behind when someone goes missing is breathtaking. His mind is spinning, though, remembering Gilly’s words.
‘There was something else weird going on…’ The words spill out of her. ‘I think maybe, I thought… he’d had something with Olivia behind my back. He swore that wasn’t it, but she wasn’t speaking to him and he was so cut up about it. It’s all he seemed to care about. I’d be talking and then I’d see he wasn’t even listening to me.’
‘That must have been hard.’
‘I flipped out at him.’ Natalie takes a shaky breath. ‘He just wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. I screamed at him in the street and we broke up. I thought he’d come after me, I didn’t really think that was it. That I’d never see him again. I sent him so many messages on Facebook but he didn’t reply.’
‘When was this?’
She looks up at Cal, no longer trying to hold back the tears. ‘It was the day he went missing. That afternoon.’
‘That must have been awful.’ Something strikes him about what she’s just said.
‘I didn’t think Arran used social media.’ He remembers what Angela said. All they had was his university email account and there was nothing useful in there.
Natalie looks up through her tears. ‘He didn’t, really. But we had a group for our course, so he set one up. It was a joke between us all how little he looked at it.’
It takes a few moments for Natalie to collect herself.
‘I feel so responsible.’
‘Natalie, people break up. You couldn’t have known. Did you tell the police all this at the time?’
‘Yes. I said we’d had a fight.’
The lack of police interest is starting to make sense now. Teenage boy has bust-up with his girlfriend and vanishes – doesn’t sound like foul play. In fact, Cal has a strong suspicion that the explanation is actually this simple. Poor Natalie.
But, he hears Shona’s words in his head, he is jumping to conclusions. If that’s the case, what happened to his body? Why has he never been found?
‘Natalie, do you think Arran would have done something to himself?’
‘That’s just it,’ she says. ‘Before that day I never would have thought that. But he was so lost and angry… I don’t know.’
She stares back at the rain-soaked street, dotted with churning puddles. The cafe window is misted with condensation, the door swinging wildly when someone leaves. Her eyes are distant, lost in past thoughts and memories.
‘I just wish we knew,’ she says finally. ‘Dead or alive, how does someone just vanish into thin air?’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ARRAN, 2009
They sleep for most of Sunday and then bundle into Olivia’s room for pizza, mugs of tea and biscuits to feed their hangovers, slouched in pyjamas or joggers and T-shirts. Olivia’s skin is pale and her hair scraped away from her face – Colleen’s still dripping from the shower. When someone knocks to return a textbook, Olivia squeaks, ‘Oh God, I’m such a state, don’t let them see me!’ So Arran opens the door and takes the book from the surprised coursemate.
It doesn’t matter that they can see the state of each other – it’s different. They’re a unit, bonded in a way the outside world could not understand.
‘Thank you.’ She smiles at him when he hands it to her and he feels his skin going hot under her scrutiny.
They collapse in a line on the bed, leaning on each other, watching films on Olivia’s laptop, barely talking, only playing rock, paper, scissors to decide who’s going to make the next round of tea. At midnight they separate, heading to their rooms. Jonno clasps his shoulder.
‘Just so you know,’ he says, ‘Olivia has a date with a guy from her course this week.’
‘Oh… right. Why would that matter to me?’
Jonno just gives him a sympathetic smile and shuts the door.
* * *
When he gets to his first lecture on Monday, Natalie is waiting outside the room, a folder held tight against her chest, biting her lip and shifting from foot to foot. Even Arran, usually oblivious to these things, can tell she’s waiting for him. Her face flushes when she sees him and her smile makes him feel better again. In a flash, the club on Saturday comes back to him – normal life bursting the false bubble he has been enveloped in.
It’s easy to fall into step with her and take the seat next to her in the lecture. As they listen to their tutor and he takes notes, he’s aware of her beside him, can feel the glances she throws his way.
After the lecture, a group of them go for coffee together. It’s cold, but the sun is shining so they sit at an outside table with their cappuccinos, talking about the course and their backgrounds. He can’t help but compare the earnestness and lack of laughter with the hilarity at the speakeasy.
Several of them are the children of farmers, like Arran, learning the latest thinking at a time when the industry is squeezed and struggling, trying to keep family businesses going for the next generation, bound by tradition in some ways but desperate to innovate in others.
‘How about you?’ he asks Natalie, who’s seated by his elbow, one of two women in the group of eight. He’s noticed how a couple of the other lads keep looking at her for approval when they speak. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. Only one kiss, he can hardly lay claim, yet something about being chosen sets a flutter inside him.
She shrugs. ‘My dad’s trying to persuade me to choose something else.’
‘Sounds like the polar opposite to mine, then.’
‘He always wanted to travel and never got to. He keeps saying he doesn’t want me to miss out.’
