Fragile Minds Page 0,45

her kitchen a few months ago; she was obviously just another dalliance for a lonely man who still mourned his marriage. As for the children issue – well, Philippa might have her own opinions when it came to fathers and child-care – but Silver would come to the right conclusions soon enough, of that she was pretty certain. He wasn’t terrified of a little self-reflection, as so many men were – though he was still a selfish child at heart, like them all. Philippa expected no more of the male species, and her cynicism ran deep. She drained her last centimetre of rum and checked the time. Where the hell was her disobedient daughter?

As Silver hit the bed, he heard the slam of the front door downstairs announcing Leticia’s arrival home. He could sleep easy now. But exhausted as he was, Silver found it impossible to doze off. Thoughts of Lana and the rolled car outside Hebdon Bridge six years ago haunted him; and eventually when he slept, he saw his ex-wife pirouetting through the fields with a muscle-bound Ray Steen, Molly panting behind in bloodied ballet shoes, reaching out in vain to her mother.

He woke sweating at 5 a.m., and put another call in for the track and trace.

Still nothing. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. If Lana wasn’t back by lunchtime, he was going home.

THURSDAY 20TH JULY CLAUDIE

In the cab that smelt of old sick and new air freshener, I stared out of the window as the London night slid by, turning the little pink and black card for Sugar and Spice over and over in my hand, feeling the embossed tassels on the huge breasts of the cartoon girl on the front. Passing under a street light, I gazed down at her lascivious wink as she curled one arm above her head.

As we pulled onto the high street, I had leant forward and tapped the Asian driver on his back.

‘Can you take me to this place please? It’s in London Bridge.’

I thrust the card at him. He swore and swerved, nearly taking a female cyclist out.

‘Yeah all right, love,’ forcefully he pushed his arm back against my hand. The girl on the bike was busy flicking him a V. ‘I’m driving. Just tell me where you want to go.’

‘It’s called Sugar and Spice.’

‘The titty bar?’ he sounded incredulous. ‘Are you sure?’

I wasn’t at all sure. ‘A titty bar?’

‘Yeah, you know. Lap-dancers, pole-dancers, that type of thing. Girls with no clothes on.’

‘Oh I see.’ I took a deep breath; I had no idea what I was going to do once I arrived. ‘Yes, there please.’

He eyed me in the mirror. ‘Are you one, then?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘A dancer?’

In my old green parka and jeans, grazes still covering half my left cheek, I hardly looked like the girl on the card.

‘No. I’m just—’ I looked down at her sly come-hither leer. ‘I’m just looking for a friend.’

Muttering, he swung the cab towards London Bridge.

There had been a time that whenever I’d crossed the Thames I’d been amazed by the night beauty of this great city, at the skyline and the mix of new and old. Only gradually, it had begun to feel different … recently it had felt too crowded; full-up, no sky left, electric light cancelling out the black. No room for anything except artifice, Rafe had said to me sadly one day, citing a need to get back to basics some time soon to save us all. ‘We’ll be living in a crater soon.’

On the edge of London Bridge, beneath the arches, I paid the surly driver. In an ironic twist, Sugar and Spice was situated opposite Southwark Cathedral, between McDonald’s and a bike store; it had a big black door, a bigger, blacker doorman with an earpiece and a curly-lettered gold-plated sign – all of which looked thoroughly uninviting to me.

‘You’re not going to get seen looking like that.’ The doorman folded his gloved hands before him, his face implacable. ‘I’d go home and come back when you’re feeling better.’ He didn’t bother looking at me when he spoke.

‘I’m perfectly fine, thanks, and I don’t want a job.’ I tried a winning smile. I realised I hadn’t smiled properly in days; it almost hurt my face. ‘I’ve come to see Mr Piper.’

He did look now. ‘Mr Piper?’

‘Yes,’ I smiled harder. ‘Mr Piper. Is he here?’

‘Never heard of him,’ the man shrugged.

‘He’s expecting me,’ I lied.

‘Not here, he ain’t.’

‘Oh.’ I didn’t believe him. ‘Maybe