He shrugged. “Well, I wanted to see you in person anyway, and now I can ask you for your number meself.”
I studied his face to see where he was going with this but his smile, whether fake or not, showed no signs of dropping from his chiselled features. He noticed me hesitate and sat forwards in his seat. “Look, I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I shouldn’t have let myself get so angry. Again…” he shrugged. “You must think I’m a right arse.”
I smiled back at him, glad he hadn’t come to shout some more, but puzzled over his insane cheeriness. I got my phone out of my pocket and put it on the armrest; I still hadn’t memorised my number despite having it for years, and would need to get it from the directory to give to him.
I decided to try and relieve the tension. “Hell, everyone around here is more than a little odd, as I’m sure you’ll discover soon. Anyway, I just assumed it was some random bad Irish temper thing…”
He laughed and sat back, crossing one leg over the other, but in a manly way with his right ankle resting on his left knee. “I’ll have you know that us Irish are gentle folk.”
I gave him a look.
“Well, most o’ the time.”
“Thanks for the apology, I’m sorry as well. As you could probably tell, I get a bit, erm, chatty when I’m drunk. And defensive.”
“No problem. At least you don’t get violent or anythin’.”
I laughed uneasily. Something about that sentence, and his tone of voice, set me on edge. Was he a violent drunk? Was he threatening me?
I really hoped I was reading too much into this.
I tried to keep the mood light. “Well, you obviously haven’t seen me when I’m very drunk.” As soon as I said it I cringed to myself, remembering a certain tipsy stalking adventure.
He winked at me, smiling cheekily. “Maybe we should make that happen.” He looked at his watch and seemed to hesitate. “No time like the present, d’you want to go out for a drink? Maybe the Inn rather than Cocktail, I’ve had enough of that bleedin’ place today.” He looked at my casual clothes and lack of make-up. “I can wait here while you get ready.”
I didn’t know whether to be flattered at getting asked out or insulted by his second remark. After my last two run-ins with Connor, I knew it would be stupid to spend an evening with him, but I could use it to my advantage; I could try and extract information from him. Knowledge, as Rach was always telling me, is power.
Plus, hot Irish men were not to be turned away lightly.
I tried to get my thoughts under control. If we went out then I’d have the benefit of being surrounded by people in case Connor got nasty again, but the thought of going for drinks at the Inn - while my mum spied on me from the bar - really didn’t appeal. And as Cocktail was out, and the Diner was definitely out, that only left one place.
I stood up and casually wandered over to the windows that faced the street, with the apparent intention to close the curtains against the darkness. While I did, I sneaked a look at School Road. At least three of the houses opposite had their living room lights on; it would only take a few seconds to run over there and start banging madly on the door if I needed to.
I turned round and pretended to think. “My mum works at the Inn. She’s kind of nosy; we’d never get rid of her. But if you like wine, my parents have a ton of the stuff. We could just drink here?”
He smiled, seeming eager and also kind of relieved. “Sounds grand.”
I smiled again, thinking I must look like some kind of creepy grinning clown, and walked over to the TV to turn everything off, paranoid that the DVD might start playing again of its own accord. I turned back round to Connor who was looking at me questioningly. “My parents are always going on about not wasting electricity…”
He nodded and replied, “Sounds like me mam,” as I walked out the room and into the kitchen. Walking over to the freezer, I reached up to grab a bottle off the wine rack, before realising I hadn’t asked him what kind he liked. I walked back to the kitchen door and through the hall, but stopped myself just before I entered the living room.
Connor was hunched over, looking at something in his hands. It could have been anything, but the way he was sitting didn’t look natural to me at all; when I’d left the room he’d been relaxing back in the sofa. It was almost as if he was leaning towards the chair I’d been sitting in. I glanced over at the seat and realised with a shock that my phone wasn’t where I’d left it - it wasn’t anywhere. I looked back at Connor but couldn’t see what was in his hands from this angle.
I took a deep breath and said, “Red, white or rosé?”
He physically jumped and looked round, guilt etched over his previously smiling face. He quickly pushed both his hands into his pockets, my phone with them, and tried to look natural. “Sorry?”
“Which wine do you prefer? Red, white or rosé?”
He visibly relaxed as he registered my cheerful face. I wasn’t the only one who could fake a smile.
“Oh, whatever you want is fine by me.”
I nodded and walked quickly to the kitchen, grabbed the nearest rosé bottle off the rack - not caring that it wasn’t chilled - and picked up two wine glasses and the corkscrew, which were always placed within easy reach, before walking back to the living room. It took me less than ten seconds.
Connor was once again leaning back into the couch and my phone was back on the armrest. It was just the other armrest to the one I’d left it on.
I put the wine and glasses on the coffee table and handed Connor the corkscrew. “Do you want to do the honours?”
“Sure.”
I watched him open the bottle of wine, wondering if I should confront him about my phone or not. I still hadn’t decided what to do when he handed me a glass, and I took it eagerly. Maybe some wine would help me with my decision. “Thanks.”
“Thank you. Are you sure your parents won’t mind us drinkin’ their wine? They won’t come back and yell at us or anything?”
“It’s cool, they have enough. They’ll be out for a while, thank God.” Why I told him that, I had no idea. If he was dangerous, the last thing I should be telling him is that no one would be coming home for hours. I mentally kicked myself.
Connor took a sip of his wine and sat forward again. “You don’t get on with your parents?”
I snorted into my drink. “Not recently, no.” He waited for me to carry on. “It’s a long story, and boring, I won’t depress you with it now! How about you and your mum?”
“Yeah we’re pretty close, especially since my dad…” His words drifted off and his eyes did the same. He looked genuinely upset, and I knew that this part, at least, was no act.
I felt stupid for bringing his parents up and took a large gulp of rosé, knowing that alcohol wouldn’t stop me from putting my foot in my mouth but wanting the wine anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up any crap.”
“That’s OK.”
He drained most of his glass and I reached for the bottle to top us both up.
“Woah, you tryin’ to get me drunk?”
I smiled, nodding. “Just paying you back for yesterday, your seductive strawberries! Did you know your concoction made me go and lie on the ground in the woods and wish I lived in the past?”
Connor looked confused for a second, then laughed. This one was real; it was high and loud and it even sounded Irish. “What…? Wait, what?”
“I’m just telling you what your cocktail did! So drink up.”
He nodded, laughing to himself as he took another sip. By the time he put his glass down his smile had faded. “Do you usually hang out much in the woods, then?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘hang out’, exactly. My friend Will does, though. He’s a total hobo.” My friend Will; that’s something I never thought I’d say.
Connor picked up his glass again. “Where?”
“Sorry?”
“Where does he ‘hang out’?”
His sudden change from carefree laughter to direc
t questioning caught me off guard. “I don’t know… near the path, I didn’t really notice much apart from the abundance of trees. Why?”
Connor stared into the distance for a second and then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. So who else do you hang out with?”
“Well, you know Rach, have you had the pleasure of meeting her boyfriend, Max?”
“No, not yet.”
“He probably wouldn’t say much to you anyway. Then there’s Veron…” I stopped, wondering if I should go into all this.
“Is she the one you’ve fallen out with?”
I took another gulp of rosé. “Actually, she’s fallen out with me. And I still don’t know why, and to be honest, I don’t really care anymore. If she wants to lose all her friends then that’s up to her. I think she’s leaving the village soon anyway.”
My mini-rant had caught him off guard. “Oh, sorry. Don’t you want to know why, though?”
I shook my head, then gave in and nodded. The wine was doing its thing and having the usual effect on the speed of my mouth. “Of course I do, but she refuses to speak to me. Or Will, or Rach, or anyone. The thing that’s really pissing me off though, is that we were meant to leave together. We were going to go to London together and go to all these cool clubs and go and see plays and meet amazing people in expensive cocktail bars. Now that’ll never happen. Not for me, anyway.”
“Hey, you don’t know that. She might get to London and realise she misses you so much that she comes back to make up, and then you can both go and live the high life in the city.”
He was being suspiciously nice to me. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but I don’t think that’s ever going to happen now.”
“You were really close, then?”
I nodded. “Friends since primary school. Since birth pretty much, our birthdays are only one day apart. Our mums went into hospital at the same time.”
I thought I’d better change the subject before I went into full on depressed mode. Then I looked at my phone on the armrest and had an idea. “Excuse me a second, I’m just going upstairs to the bathroom. There’s one at the end of the kitchen down here if you need it any time, by the way.”
Connor smiled as I left the room, and I ran up the stairs to the bathroom. I shut the door from the outside, in case Connor was listening, and waited for a few seconds. Then I walked to the top of the stairs, peering down into the semi-darkness.
I was concentrating so much on trying to listen to any noises coming from the living room that I jumped when Connor walked past the bottom of the stairs and into the kitchen. I stood still, waiting for my rapid heartbeat to slow down, glad that I’d left the landing lights off so I was hidden in the darkness.
I strained my ears to listen for any sounds, but I couldn’t hear anything at first; maybe he’d just gone to the downstairs loo. Then I heard one of the kitchen cupboards slam shut.
What was he doing? Was he looking for something? I couldn’t believe he’d come here and been all friendly to me just so he could search through my phone and cupboards; no wonder he’d wanted to wait downstairs while I ‘got ready’.
I tiptoed down the stairs, grateful that none of them were creaking like usual, and entered the kitchen before I could think any more about what I was doing.
Connor was standing next to the fridge, looking through one of the cupboards. With the cupboard door open and him standing with his head behind it, he hadn’t noticed my presence, and it took me a few moments to realise that the cupboard he was looking in held all of my parents’ bills, letters and my mum’s diary. I couldn’t believe him.
“Connor?” He looked round so quickly he banged his head on the cupboard door, and I smiled despite myself. “Are you looking for something?”
Connor’s pale complexion quickly coloured and he closed the cupboard abruptly. “Yeah, I was lookin’ for a glass. I wanted some water, you know, take the edge off that wine.”
I looked at the draining board next to him, which had at least five washed and dried glass tumblers on it. He followed my gaze and barked a short, strange laugh. “Right, thanks.”
He picked up a glass and filled it with water while I looked on in silence.
***
The rest of the evening was more awkward than the first part, and although Connor kept trying to keep the atmosphere light, the drawn out silences and my lack of friendly laughter must have given him some hint of what I was feeling. I wouldn’t be a very good undercover agent; I could never hide the fact that I was pissed off.
After around another hour or so I was bored of talking about work and my family and I brought the conversation onto Emma Harris and how ‘Jerusalem’ had brought Norman to tears. As soon as I said Norman’s name, Connor started acting weird again, but this time he was the one asking the questions.
“He was cryin’? At her funeral?”
“Yep, not just the odd tear either. Mega falling-apart crying.”
“Did you talk to him after?”
“No, he didn’t go to the Harris’s house.”
“Did he speak to anyone else?”
“Not that I saw. He was probably embarrassed after his little outburst.”
Connor shook his head, looking past me at the now-closed curtains. “He sure knows how to call attention to himself.” His tone of voice was sharp and he suddenly looked extremely angry again.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothin’, nothin’.” He finished his most recent glass of wine and put it down on the table. “Anyway, I’d better be goin’. Thanks for the wine, Beth.”
He stood up and I mirrored his actions, relief flooding through me; I thought he’d never leave. I walked him to the front door and opened it, letting in a cold waft of air.
“Well, thanks for coming.”
Connor smiled. Whether this was one of his fake ones or not, I had no idea; I was too tired to keep guessing anymore. “Thanks for havin’ me.”
Polite, kind, and good-looking - on the surface Connor Maguire was certainly a catch. It’s just a shame he spent his evenings snooping around people’s houses.
I was about to say bye when he suddenly lurched towards me, making my body go rigid. The potential attack, however, turned out to be a hug. An extremely awkward hug as my torso was still far too tense to respond in any way.
He let go of me and winked. “See you around.”
I exhaled slowly as I watched him step through the door.
“Oh!” he looked back at me, and from the dim light of the front garden, I couldn’t tell what expression he was wearing. “Next time your man Will asks you if you want to chill out in the woods, maybe tell him no, OK?”
He left without another word. Was he warning me off Will now, too?
After a few seconds of trying to decipher his last comment, I remembered something. I nearly yelled out to let him know that I’d never given him my number, but then thought better of it. I wasn’t sure I wanted Connor Maguire to have my phone number.
I sighed, shut the door, and walked back into the living room, glancing at the empty wine bottle and the glasses on the coffee table.
Connor’s much needed water had been left completely untouched.
***
I woke Will up early (well, early for him) the next day, and filled him in on Connor on the way to the library. He seemed as shocked as I was and kept going on about giving Connor a piece of his mind, which was pretty funny; Will was the least threatening person I’d ever met. I left a few details out, like the hug and the wink, as I didn’t think Will needed to know about them. I figured it would be better just to concentrate on the important things, like the phone stealing and cupboard rummaging.
It was quite busy when we got to the library and the one woman working behind the desk looked rushed off her feet. I steered Will towards the local legends area and smiled at a couple of little girls who were sitting on a beanbag and looking through a giant ‘Legends of Covershire’ book. They were pointing at one of the pictures and laug
hing.
It reminded me of V and I when we were little; we used to come in here and read together. I felt a small, sharp pain in my stomach and tried to focus on the task at hand instead. I took one of the bookshelves and Will took the other. After a couple of minutes, he called my name and I went over to him.
He was holding a kid’s book in his hands. The title was ‘Beware of Spring Heeled Jack!’ and the cover picture was quite a disturbing drawing of a hideous man with pointy ears, crouched over as if ready to pounce on a small child.
“I don’t remember him looking that creepy… well, now we know there’s one here.”
Will shook his head and lowered the book so I could see the shelf properly. “Not just one.”
He was right. There was a whole section dedicated to the sinister Mr Jack. “OK, so more popular than I thought?”
He nodded and I sat down on one of the beanbags that were meant for the kids, with Will joining me a second later.
I looked at the book again. “So, Connor could have heard some of the stories from Norman, and the others from here.”
Will nodded again. “Or he could have looked it up online, or… well, anything really. I still don’t get why this is so important.”
“I just think we need to get a clearer picture of Connor and what he’s up to. And besides, if he did learn about it here, he was lying to me. He made it sound like he had no idea about the local legends section, as if he’d never been here.”
“That still might be true.”
“He also told me he hadn’t heard of any of the stories. Definite lie.”
Will had his confused face on again. “So what does that tell us exactly?”
I shrugged. “Nothing really, apart from he’s not really the good guy he pretends to be. He can turn on the lies mid-conversation without blinking an eye, not to mention the whole phone thing and going through my kitchen. That is not normal person behaviour.”
“It’s sneaky moron behaviour.”
I looked at Will’s cheerful face; he was loving the fact that Connor wasn’t as perfect as he seemed.
“True. But it doesn’t exactly make him a murderer, does it?”
I took the Spring Heeled Jack book off Will and started idly flicking through it. I stopped when I got to the middle, where there was a two-page intricate drawing of Spring Heeled Jack running over the rooftops, a ghoulish smile on his horrible face. There was a verse written in red near the bottom of the page: