LITMIR.BIZ

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left when he did and followed him so I knew where he was going, so I could help, or get him help, or something, anything.

      But I didn’t. I’d made me wanting to have a coffee with him about me needing a distraction from my problems. That’s why I had given up so easily. Running towards the exit I left the train station and stopped in the middle of the quiet road. Looking to my left and then right I saw nothing, only the dark footpaths lit by orange lights. No one could be seen in the gloomy spring night, everything was deathly quiet as if the night couldn’t speak of what had happened and what had not.

      Only the wind remained unaffected as it blew through the trees that lined the pavements. The way their limbs swayed looked so peaceful, reminding me of his gentle swaying when I first saw him. I thought of how I had just inadvertently saved a life and yet I was worried that he would just find another time, another place, to do what I had stopped.

      ‘Shit, Sarah, he was right there and you let him just walk away,’ I said out loud. Looking at the letter once more I learned his name, which was neatly printed at the bottom: Chris Hayes. I called out desperately. My voice jagged, on the verge of crying. ‘Chris? Chris!’

      But only the breeze, rustling the leaves, and my echoing voice, desperate and delicate, replied.

Chapter 4

      10.52 p.m. – somewhere on the A605, near March

      Chris felt numb as he stumbled into a taxi, giving his address. The same taxi that had dropped off the stupid girl who had unhinged his plan. The journey back was the longest of his life. Unable to fully comprehend what had happened and its impact, he rested his head against the window, looking out. His cheeks vibrated as the cab picked up speed. He watched the rain fall and hit the glass in such a way it sounded like it had a pulse. Almost like the weather mocked him for being alive when he should be dead. The driver spoke, interrupting his thoughts.

      ‘You look like you’ve had a rough day?’

      Chris looked at him in the rear-view mirror, shrugged his shoulders, and returned to the rain. Not knowing what else to say or do. He saw the driver’s toothy smile change to worry. Chris wondered why he would care about a stranger.

      ‘I see, well we all have them.’

      Chris just nodded his head. Looking out of the window again.

      ‘When I’m feeling down I try to see the world through someone else’s perspective. For instance, we’ve not got it as bad as those poor folk in Aleppo. You hear about it on the radio. No water, no electricity. Bombs falling every day. That’s someone who’s got it rough. And here’s you and me, in a warm taxi driving on a quiet little road.’

      ‘I guess.’

      ‘See, perspective. I’m Giles, mate.’

      ‘Chris.’

      ‘Name suits you. Not like mine. Giles - sounds a bit posh for someone like me. Although, I do have a lord in my family tree going back a few hundred years. Could have left me a few quid mind.’

      Chris smiled in spite of himself and then quickly cursed himself for it. He looked back towards the rear-view mirror to get a better look at his driver. Chris noticed he was maybe sixty-five with greying hair, weathered skin, and a thick neck. A scar ran across the bridge of his nose and the nose itself was slightly bent to the left – he had clearly been on the wrong side of someone’s fist in his youth. Maybe even done a little time.

      Giles began to talk about the weather and how it wasn’t like when he was growing up but Chris wasn’t paying attention. After a while Giles noticed and quietened down. He turned up his radio and listened to a song by Status Quo, which mumbled over the sound of the taxi’s diesel engine as they rattled along the A605. Cutting through small villages and towns.

      Twenty minutes into the journey Chris could see the lay-by he had visited once before coming up on his left. He saw a tree that stood taller than any other. One he and Julia had both rested against once. He watched the tree as he passed – focusing on the intertwining roots, which could be seen curving out of the earth – until it was consumed by the darkness. Once it could no longer be seen, Chris felt a sense of loss. He wanted to ask the driver to go back so he could sit where he and Julia had sat one night a long time ago, him sweeping the hair off her face, holding her tightly as neither spoke; but he didn’t ask. Instead he closed his eyes. Pretending to sleep.

      It took him the rest of the journey to calm his heart rate, which pounded in his head. A journey that, including a long wait at a train crossing, took just over fifty-five minutes and cost him £60.

      Chris opened the door to the house, a modest three-bed he bought after meeting Julia. He hoped there would be some sound coming from within. It was silent besides the ticking clock on the kitchen wall. As Chris closed the front door he looked back to see the old chatty taxi driver give a small wave before coughing, this time without covering his mouth, as he pulled away.

      He felt a small pang of guilt for being so dismissive. At first, he’d been suspicious of the old man but it was clear that the taxi driver was lonely and actually trying to care for a stranger by talking to him. It made him think of his father once more.

       ‘Everyone you will ever meet is fighting a battle you do not know, so be nice. Be nice always.’

      Chris felt ashamed of himself. He briefly wondered what his father would think of the way he had just treated another human being but soon shrugged it off despite his father being right. After all, he was supposed to be dead right now and therefore the driver wouldn’t have anyone to talk to anyway. Besides, his father’s view of other things mattered a lot more.

      Putting his shoes under the stairs Chris saw there were two new messages on his home answerphone. He pressed play and sat on the stairs near his front door. Unsure what else to do. The first message was from Ben, a work friend of his. The automated voice told him Ben had left it just after midday.

       ‘Hi Chris, it’s Ben. I hope you’re okay. I’ve tried to call you on your mobile but can’t leave a message. So I got your number from our records. I thought you wouldn’t mind. Mate, we’ve been chatting in the office and it came up today was, well, you know. Anyway. We’d like to take you out for a drink, just a few of us. Just to catch up. No pressure to come back to work or anything, far from it. We miss your face around here and want to see how you are. So give me a ring back when you can and we can set something up.’

      The second was from Steve, sent at eight minutes past ten. The same time Chris had been aimlessly walking through March.

       ‘Hi, mate. Thought I’d just give you a quick call. Haven’t heard anything from you in a few weeks and Kristy reminded me today was your anniversary. I’m sorry, mate. I should have remembered. I’m rubbish with dates. I came over earlier today, about seven, but you weren’t in. Listen. I’ve got some time off work soon and I was thinking we could go and have a pint or something? Anyway, give me a call.’

      Chris was tempted to call back but thought better of it. He remembered the last time he and Steve went for a pint, three weeks before. It was a goodbye drink that Steve didn’t know he was sharing. Like a wake for the living. It was a huge risk meeting up with Steve. Chris usually told his best mate everything, but he couldn’t tell him the thing that really mattered.

      He couldn’t tell him about Julia being killed; as far as he and everyone else was concerned, Julia was with her dad in Australia following her mother’s death, taking a sabbatical from work to do so. Because if Steve knew what really happened, he would be in danger. Chris knew her killer was close, and watching. One little slip would mean Steve would be next. He knew because the night the man killed his wife he promised he would kill again unless Chris kept quiet.

      When they had last met at their usual haunt – the same bar where Steve had instigated Chris meeting Julia – it was a quiet Friday due to the pouring rain that hadn’t lifted all day. Chris had spent the day in his house, waiting for nothing

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