Page 14 of Pressure Head
“Her handbag. Her iPad was in it.”
“Did she put it in specially?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see her. She always carried it around, anyway. She used to read books on it.”
“Did she seem worried? Annoyed? Furtive?”
Graham’s knuckles were white on the handle of his mug. I hoped he wasn’t about to snap it off. “She was . . . annoyed with me for making such a big deal about it. The last time I ever saw her, and she was annoyed with me.”
“But before that?” Phil’s voice was soft and coaxing, a tone I didn’t associate with him at all.
“She was . . . puzzled, I think?” Graham frowned. “Yes. But it was almost like she was pleased too. Like she wanted to go. More than she wanted an evening in with me.”
I didn’t need to look at his face to see how much that hurt him. The pain in his voice was already almost more than I could bear.
“Well?” Phil demanded as he strode away from Graham’s flat.
There was a cold wind blowing old newspapers and discarded carrier bags through the estate, and my hip ached as I hurried to keep up. It didn’t improve my mood. “Well what?”
The breeze ruffled Phil’s blond hair, but he looked snug and warm in his posh body warmer, the git. “Was he hiding anything?”
I stared at him. “How the hell should I know? I’m not a bloody lie detector.”
Phil frowned. “I thought you could tell if things were hidden.”
“Yes—things. Actual stuff. Not if someone’s telling porkies. And it doesn’t just happen, either. I have to, you know, think about it. So if you want me to find something, next time just ask me, okay?”
“How does that work, then?” His tone was curious. “I mean, how did you first find out you could do it?”
I shrugged. “Don’t remember. I mean, I was a kid when it started. Far as I know, I’ve always been able to do it. Even when I was a toddler.”
“Have you got brothers and sisters? Because I bet they just loved you.”
I had to unclench my teeth to answer. “I’ve got one of each. Both older than me. If I’m lucky, they send me a Christmas card, but apart from that, we don’t see each other.”
“Christ, what did you find? Hard-core porn? Pregnancy tests?”
“Amongst other things. Why the bloody hell do you think I kept so quiet about it at school?”
Phil laughed, the unsympathetic bastard. “Are you having me on?”
I was going to get toothache at this rate. “What about your family? All right with you turning out bent, are they?”
He didn’t answer, which had the predictable effect of making me feel about three feet tall.
“Look, I’m sorry—”
He cut me off. “Forget it.” We got back into his car and headed off to St. Albans in silence.
I hadn’t planned on being the one to break it, but as we neared Fleetville, a thought that’d been nagging at me earlier resurfaced. “Anyway, I thought you were on Graham’s side. Why do you think he’s hiding something?”
“Because everyone does.” He didn’t even sound bitter about it. Just matter-of-fact, like this was something everybody knew.
“Well, maybe—but it doesn’t have to be anythingbad. Not if they’re innocent.”
“Bollocks. Still believe in the tooth fairy as well, do you?”
“Does it make you happy, believing the worst of everyone? Because I’d rather give people the benefit of the doubt.”
“You’ll learn.” He parked in front of my house, pulling on the hand brake so viciously I wouldn’t have been surprised if it’d come off in his hand. I didn’t bother to argue anymore; my headache was bad enough already. “And no, it doesn’t,” he said as I got out of the car.
I leaned back down despite myself. “What?”
His eyes were haunted. “It doesn’t make me happy, all right?”
Then he revved the engine and put the car back in gear, so I had no choice but to close the door and let him go.
