David Trevellyan 03 -More Harm Than Good (47 page)

       
“It was a coincidence,
you working for Box too?”

       
“A complete coincidence.
He said he liked it, though, cause he could keep an eye on me.”

       
“So why tell you now?”

       
“Because you and I were
getting too close to finding out what he was doing. Despite everything, I was
his daughter and he didn’t want me to get hurt. And he couldn’t ask Hardwicke
to pull me off the case. You can’t wear a different aftershave around a guy
like that without him putting two and two together.”

       
“And the meeting with
his snout. Here, at the workhouse. That came up straight afterwards.”

       
“It did. He was trying
to help. He wanted to throw me something that would keep me out of harm’s way,
and make me look good at the same time.”

       
“And something that
would keep his misdirection on the rails. He wanted Hardwicke’s eyes firmly on
that school.”

       
“That too, I guess.
Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you straight away, but it was a lot to process.
I’ve been all round the houses. I’ve been in shock. I’ve been confused. I’ve
been angry – I even met my mother and screamed at her for lying to me.
I’ve been relieved. I don’t even know what else I’ve been. I’ve just been a
mess, I suppose.”

       
“How do you feel now?”

       
“That’s the funny part.
My mother had told me my fictitious dead father was a good man. A good lawyer,
if such people exist. And I felt empty and alone. Now, I know my father was
what?
A scheming psychopath?
A man who killed people
with wrecking balls and barbed wire? And you know what? I feel happy.”

       
I didn’t comment, but
not for the first time in my life I was glad I’d brought a switchblade with me.

       
“And here’s why. Do you
know what’s really important about my father? Two things are. First, he really,
honestly believed what he did was right.
He saved innocent
lives, too
,
remember
. And second, he could have
walked away from this mess alive, with everything he’d worked for intact. But
he didn’t. He came here to save me. And he died for me. Imagine that.
Someone being prepared to give his life for yours.
It’s
humbling.”

       
I didn’t reply.

       
“The same goes for you,
I
realise
,” she said. “You didn’t have to come back
here. I should thank you, too.”

       
“Even after what I did
to your hand?” I said.

       
“You saved my life.
Twice.
In one afternoon.
Right now I’d consider
marrying you.”

       
I looked away.

       
“That might be
difficult,” I said.

       
“Why?” she said.

       
“You’ve got nowhere to
put the ring.”

       
Melissa was still for a
moment,
then
she peeled her left arm away from her
chest and held it unsteadily in front of her, with the bloody jagged remnants
of her wrist just below eye level. At first I could see her physically battling
her neck muscles, forcing
herself
not to turn away.
Ten seconds ticked past. Twenty. Thirty, and she still didn’t flinch.

       
“Don’t worry,” she said,
after forty-five. “I’m not serious about the wedding. But there’s nothing here
I can’t deal with.”

       
“Really?” I said.

       
“Absolutely,” she said.
“Look. I may have no hand, because of you.
Probably no job,
either.
But that’s better than having no breath in my body. My father
just gave me back my past. I’m certainly not going to squander my future. I’m
going to be a lot more careful how I spend my time, now, in general. And I
think you should be, too.”

       
“I’ll try.”

       
“I’m serious. No repeats
of the last few days. Not the crazy parts, anyway. Like what just happened
here. Promise me.”

       
“I can’t promise. It
depends on too many things.”

       
“What kind of things?”

       
“People keeping their
thieving hands off my boots, for a start.”

MORE HARM THAN GOOD

With Special
Thanks To:

Bill Cameron – Cover Design

Stacie Gutting – Copy Editing

Janet Reid – Literary Representation

Tom Robinson - Publicity