Chapter 51

Ray's composure crumbled as soon as they were out of the salon.

'Oh, Tala.' Ray looked up at him, tears sliding down his cheeks, and Tala put his arms around him, enveloping Ray in a massive bear hug. 'I'm so glad to see you. I've been feeling so . . . so on my own.'

When he nodded, Ray realised that Tala had guessed this already; it was why he'd come to see him. So that Ray could talk about Bryan with someone else who had known and loved him and was as miserable as he was.

More, probably, Ray thought with a pang, because he'd only known Bryan for a few days. Tala had been his closest friend for years. They had told each other everything, shared –

BEEP-BEEP! tooted a passing transit van, and through the open passenger window a series of wolf-whistles was followed by a roar of, 'Go on, mate, give her one from me!"

Tears turned to wry laughter as Ray wiped the back of his hand across his wet face. He was very used to being mistaken for a girl with his long hair. They were quite the centre of attention, it appeared. Everywhere he looked, people were watching them, possibly waiting for him to be given one, as the men in the transit had so sensitively suggested.

'What's her name?' said Tala, nodding in the direction of the salon.

Ray peered around his arm. Bev, who had been staring at them, hurriedly looked away.

'That's Bev, our receptionist.'

'Is she always that friendly?'

'She was trying to protect me. Come on, let's go somewhere.' They were still being watched. 'Now I know how it feels to be a panda in the zoo.'

Tala led him down a narrow side street and into a quiet, dimly lit wine bar. They ordered coffee and sat down opposite each other at a corner table. Tala sighed, pushing his fingers through his already dishevelled hair before leaning back in his chair and lighting a cigarette.

'I didn't know where you lived. That's why I had to come to the salon. He did finish with Daisy,' he said quietly. 'In case you saw her weeping and wailing on the telly and were beginning to wonder.'

Ray nodded, his throat aching.

'Thanks.'

'He really did love you, you know.' Tala drew hard on his cigarette. 'The way he talked about you was amazing. I mean it, a real first.'

Ray's nose was beginning to run with the effort of keeping his eyes dry. Surreptitiously he made use of a napkin.

'Sorry about this. Bev did warn me not to get involved with Bryan. She said it would all end in tears.'

Tala shrugged and shook his head.

'Yeah well, for me too. Look, the other reason I needed to see you was to find out if you want to go to the funeral. Because if you do, you can come with me.'

'I won't, thanks.' Ray didn't even have to stop and think about it. He knew he didn't want to tag along incognito, and have to witness Daisy Schofield hurling herself across the coffin and generally playing star mourner.

Tala nodded, understanding.

'If you change your mind, let me know.' He patted Ray's hand then reached into the back pocket of his decrepit corduroy trousers. 'Oh yes, and I've got something for you.'

Ray took the copper pig, warm from Tala's pocket, and held it in the palm of his hand.

'Some lucky charm this turned out to be.'

'He won the race, didn't he?'

Ray felt an uneasy squirming sensation in his stomach.

'Was he wearing this when he had the accident?'

'No. The leather snapped after the race while we were all celebrating. Fairly riotously, I have to admit. Bryan gave it to me to look after,' Tala explained. 'So you see, it did bring him luck.'

His icy blue eyes were filling up. It was Ray's turn to squeeze his arm.

'You're going to miss him so much.'

'Bloody hell, you think you're half prepared for it when your best friend's a racing driver.' Tala heaved a sigh. 'But this is cheating, getting smashed into by a lorry on the fucking M1. It definitely wasn't meant to happen like this.'

At five to one, he walked Ray back to the salon.

'Your minder's still got her eye on us,' Tala observed, as he held open the smoked-glass door and Bev – like Owl in Winnie the Pooh – swung round on her stool behind the desk.

'Thanks for everything.' Ray hugged Tala again, his nose finally unblocked enough to be able to breath in the scent of his Armani aftershave. He liked the contrast of scruffy clothes and sophisticated cologne.

'I'll be in touch,' Tala told him. Then, gazing steadily over the top of Ray's head, he said, 'That's a bad habit, you know.' Bev, at whom this comment was directed, bristled instantly.

'What?'

'Biting your nails.'

Indignant wasn't the word for it. As she thrust out her hands, splaying her long fingers to prove beyond doubt that her polished acrylic nails were flawless, there was practically steam gushing out of Bev's ears.

'I don't bit my nails,' she informed Tala icily.

No rings on the relevant finger. Excellent.

'That's because they aren't real.' He smiled at Bev, having discovered what he'd set out to discover. 'If you tries you'd probably break your teeth.'

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'Oh dear, I think I'm getting that spooky déjà vu feeling,' said Ray. 'It seems like every time the doorbell rings, it's you again, coming back to hurl a few insults in my direction.' He eyed the bunch of pale-pink roses with suspicion. 'Who are those for, anyway? Florence isn't here, Max hasn't had the baby yet and it's nobody's birthday.'

'Can I come in?'

'Why not? You usually do.'

'I came to apologise,' said Kai. 'And the flowers are for you.'

'Pink roses?' Caught off-guard by this, Ray instinctively went on the attack. 'You saw pink roses and thought of me?'

'Yes, well, they'd sold right out of cactus plants.' Striding past Ray, plonking the flowers down on the hall table, Kai said, 'Just humour me for a minute, will you? This is about Bryan. I didn't believe you before, but I do now. And I'm sorry.'

'Sorry you didn't believe me, or sorry he's dead?' Ray shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark-blue fleecy top. The weather had worsened dramatically over the last few days and since watching the funeral on the six o'clock news he hadn't been able to stop shivering.

'Both. I would have come over sooner but I thought you might not want to see me.' Kai paused. 'I suppose I felt I'd done enough damage.'

Imagine that, Ray thought. Kai Hiwatari has a conscience.

'How did you find out?'

'I saw the pre-race interview. He was wearing your copper pig . . . talking about you . . . I realised it was all true.'

'Oh well, not to worry,' said Ray. 'It would never have worked anyway. As you so kindly pointed out. Another couple of weeks and he'd have been off, chasing after the next conquest.'

'Look, where's Max?'

'Antenatal class. Learning how to breath.'

'And Florence?'

'Love's young dream? Still up in Scotland with Tom.' Ray smiled, recalling the look of shock on the postman's face when he had glanced at Florence's last postcard. 'They're visiting old friends from their army days.'

'Did you go to the funeral this afternoon?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Take a wild guess.' Ray paused. 'She came into the salon this morning, to have her hair done for it.'

'Daisy Schofield,' said Kai.

'Who else? And get this, she brought a photographer along with her, from Hi! magazine.' Ray assumed a Hi!-type voice. 'To take pictures of the grieving fiancée as she prepares to say goodbye to the one true love of her life.'

'You're not serious.' Kai looked appalled. 'And Takao did her hair?'

'No. He told her we were fully booked and packed her off to try her luck with Nicky Clarke.'

'Are you hungry?' said Kai. 'Let me take you to dinner.'

It was Friday evening. Exactly this time a week ago, Ray remembered, they had gone out together for a let's-be-friends-again drink. And that hadn't gone well.

'I don't know.' It seemed a bit pointless. He wasn't even hungry.

'Hey, I'm trying to say sorry here.' Kai held out his hands, palms upwards. 'Humour me, okay? Anywhere you'd like to go.'

'Anywhere? Oh well,' said Ray, 'if you put it like that . . .'

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The bridge over the M1 was banked high on both sides with flowers, their cellophane wrappings crackling in the stiff breeze. Candles flickered in glass jars amongst the multi-coloured bouquets. Mourning members of the public walked the length of the bridge, peering silently down on to the southbound carriageway of the motorway where the accident had happened, and wept on each other's shoulders.

Ray didn't weep. He dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his fleecy jacket and gazed without speaking at the moving spectacle stretched out before him. How could the loss of someone he had known for only a few days affect him so much?

His fingers closed around the copper pig in his pocket. As he stroked its soothingly familiar curves, Kai came up behind him. Having discreetly hung back for a few minutes, he now rested a hand on Ray's shoulder.

'Okay?'

'Okay.'

'I've got a handkerchief if you want one.'

'No.' Ray shook his head. 'I'm not going to cry any more. I've done enough of that.'

'Right.'

'I told you a lie last week, by the way.' Ray twisted round to face Kai, his golden eyes bright. 'When you asked me if I'd slept with him, I said I had.' He paused. 'Well, that wasn't true. I never did.'

Relieved to hear it, Kai gave Ray's shoulder a squeeze.

'Doesn't matter.'

'It does matter,' said Ray. 'I wish I had.'