Work Text:
01:15
Hey
U up?
01:25
Not like that
FR
RU awake?
01:37
Id call Jack
But i cant obvs
01:42
Call me rn
Please
YG
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked, when Susie picked up.
“Oh hey, babe!” Her voice was bright and brittle and young. A cold wash of adrenaline poured down from Eddie’s scalp. “I’ll be home soon, yeah? The girls and I went a little late. Sorry. I’m on my way.”
The total number of scenarios in which Eddie Horniman would make a call to Susie Glass at this hour, and receive that reception, resolved to exactly three. The first scenario was a mistake: her thinking that he was someone else. The second scenario was her pretending to be someone else. The third was some beautiful alternate universe where she was actually coming home to him after last call, tipsy and footsore, wearing a dress she’d put on to drive him out of his fucking mind, probably because he’d cocked up something major like a birthday or anniversary or some other cliché, because in that other universe those were the sum total of his problems. He wanted to kill that other chap, in that alternate universe. Kill him, then steal his life, and his girl, and his tiny little problems.
He heard a siren pass her.
“Fuck me, are you being followed?” Eddie asked, flicking on the bedside lamp.
“Yup!” she said. “D’you want me to get anything on my way?”
“Yes.” Eddie grabbed his glasses and ripped back the covers. There were several possible explanations. It could be an agent of the NCA, or the Met. It could also be a rival, eager to kill their new firm in its cradle. Or it could just be what it almost always was for all women in this situation: some weird arsehole, useless as tits on a nun. “Are you near an off-licence, or a Tesco Express or something like that?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Good. Go inside, and see if he follows you.” Eddie frowned. “We are talking about a man, aren’t we?”
“Definitely. For sure.”
Fuck. Eddie swung his legs free of the bed. “Okay, look up toward the ceiling of the furthest corner of the shop. There should be a convex mirror-”
“Right, right, I can get that-”
“I want you to watch and see if he follows you in.”
Eddie heard doors chiming open. He dug his toes into the rug. It would be better, safer, if she were wrong. If they were both paranoid. If there were no reason whatsoever for her to text him after midnight. They could have a laugh about it, later. He could let Jack or Freddy tease her about being scared and needing him. (Eddie himself would never, ever tease her about being scared, or needing him.) It would all be terribly funny. A story to tell Charlotte’s baby.
“That’s a big 10-4,” Susie said.
His stomach went cold. He rocketed up out of the bed and went for his armoire. “Okay, Susie? I need you to take a selfie, for me.”
“For you?” Her voice dropped a little. She sounded more like herself.
“Yes, for me. Just go flip the camera around and wait until he’s behind you, and take the picture. Okay?” He swallowed. “Just stay in character. Take a selfie for your boyfriend.”
“I don’t do that kind of thing in public.” Susie sounded mildly offended. Like he’d insulted her honour or dignity or basic common sense. “I don’t really do that kind of thing at all to be honest-”
“Please.” This was like a teenage boy’s dream abruptly swerving into a nightmare. Eddie, begging her for selfies like a simp, and Susie, about to be fucking strangled by some deranged mouth-breathing cunt. Or arrested by one. Eddie grabbed a pair of twills that wouldn’t show blood right away. “Please do this for me. All right? Please.”
“If you say so,” she muttered. “Lover.”
“That’s more like it,” Eddie growled.
By the time he had his trousers, belt, and shirt on, she’d sent him two photos. He picked his phone up off the floor and paged through them. He willed himself not to look at her dress (red lace, mesh, high neck, sequinned collar, surprisingly girlish and absurdly pretty), or her neck (gloriously bare, with her hair up) or her smudged eyeliner (Christ, she’d been dancing), and focus only on the image behind her. As he looked, another image came through a minute later. This one was much clearer. Obviously, she’d waited quietly for the man to come up behind her. She was doing a V for Victory and a big cheesy smile and Eddie would’ve melted, if it weren’t for the chap standing just behind her, looking at his own phone.
Eddie knew that posture. He knew the exact angle of the cap pulled down, the deliberately brand-less jacket and boots, the loose drape of his pockets because, in all likelihood, his holster hung under his arm. Worse — and he wouldn’t tell Susie this until she was safe, here, behind his gate and his door — he recognised the faint outline of a tattoo under his right clavicle, through a clean white t-shirt that had obviously been ripped free of its plastic shrink-wrap a few hours ago.
2 PARA, Henry Collins had told him. Three tours of Sangin. Far be it from Edward to impugn the honour of the 2nd Battalion Parachute Regiment, but it was possible that whatever had drummed out Collins had also drummed out men who were more loyal to him than they were to the Crown. Men who now wanted revenge.
“D’you not like it?” Susie really did sound sad at the prospect of Eddie's disappointment.
“It’s perfect,” he said, quickly. “You’re doing so well. You’re really aces at this. You’re wasted in a life of crime, Susan. We need you over in MoD.”
“Sweet of you to say, but I really like money,” Susie told him. Then she cleared her throat, as though belatedly remembering she was playing a role: “So no, angel mine, I will not be staying home with the kids. You want someone to keep barefoot in the kitchen and pregnant, you can bloody well marry an American.”
I fucking love you, Eddie thought.
“Noted,” he said. “Are you listening? Pay attention.” He sighed through his nose. “First, has anyone else come into the shop?”
“No, not yet.”
“Good. Now, don’t look, just give me your first impression. Is there anyone else outside the shop? Someone smoking a cigarette, or waiting on a bus?”
“…Maybe?”
Eddie should have cut Collins up into little pieces and mailed them to his entire contacts list. “All right. I want you to buy the biggest bottle of wine they have. The cheap stuff. Bottom shelf. Can you see it?”
“Got it,” Susie said. He heard glass clinking.
“Now go over and find some tampons.”
“But I’m not-”
“Please just do it.” Maybe they’d leave off — because it couldn’t just be one man, Eddie thought — if they thought she were bleeding. And anyway, it couldn’t hurt. If there was one place a man like this wouldn’t follow her, it was the sex aisle. Speaking of which: “Forget the tampons. Buy a pregnancy test.”
“I beg your pardon?”
This was wonderful; she sounded genuinely hacked off with him. “I mean it. Go stand in front of the pregnancy tests, and read the boxes. Pick them up and take them off the shelf, like you’re reading the instructions. Do it slowly, so he sees you doing it.”
“Well now I feel a right heathen, don’t I, carrying all this wine around,” Susie groused. She raised her voice. “I hope you appreciate me buying you all this alcohol in my delicate condition, darling. You’re getting the snip after this, and no mistake.”
“Remember to thank the BFI,” Eddie murmured.
“How can there be so bloody many types of piss tests?” Susie whinged. “It only does one fucking thing!”
“Some of them detect ovulation.”
Susie scoffed. “You don’t need a test for that.”
“Well, I suspect people taking fertility treatments-”
“Why the fuck is there an app for this?” Susie shrilled. “Oh, sure, I’ll just hand over all my cycle data to some startup who’s about to be acquired by a Russian hedge fund, or whatever. That should end well.”
“Is our new friend leaving you alone?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good. Now, take a picture of the tests. While you’re doing that, drop a pin and send it to me.”
The pin showed up a moment later. “Thank you. Now go and pick up whatever snacks you like best, and head up to the cash. Not the self-scan; I mean where the cigarettes are. When you’re there, I want you to buy a whack of scratchers.”
“Good God, we’re just playing all the hits tonight, aren’t we?”
“Trust me. I’m buying you time.”
Eddie flipped over to his little-used rideshare account, and directed a very big black car to Susie’s pin, post-haste. There was a chance Susie’s enemies had cloned her phone, but Eddie himself got out very rarely, these days, on account of wanting to be home for Chuckles. So the likelihood that someone had pounced on his accounts was rather minimal. And in any case, it wasn’t like his address was a secret. Halstead was a click away. If these people wanted a fight, they knew where to get it.
“Thank you,” Susie said, loudly and obnoxiously.
“All right, go up to the front window, and start scratching,” Eddie directed her. “In about…” He checked the app. “Four minutes, there’s going to be a black Land Rover Freelander out front. You’ll know it because it has a ski rack. All right?”
“Right.”
“How far is the front door from the kerb?”
“Um…”
“Doesn’t matter. Take off your shoes.”
“Excusez-moi?”
“You might have to run, Susan; take them off.”
“But-”
“I’ll replace them. I’ll buy you all the shoes you could ever want. Just do this for me. Please.”
“All right, Quentin, have it your way,” Susie muttered.
“Just step out of them slowly, like your feet hurt. Roll your ankles.”
“Should I describe it in detail?” she asked, airily. “Would you like a photo?”
“No, I want you to take your shoes off and grab that wine bottle by the neck. When your ride shows up, I want you to run for it. And if someone tries to take you, duck down, and swing the bottle directly at his kneecap. Use both hands. Like a cricket bat.”
Edward watched the progress of dots on the map. “It should be there in about ninety seconds. You remember what I said?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“Pretend I’m waiting for you,” he said. “In the car. Pretend I’m right behind that door. Okay? Because I am. I’m standing here at Halstead, but I’m with you. That ride is bringing you straight to me. I’ll be standing at the gates to let you in. I’m waiting for you, Susan.” He swallowed. “I’ll wait as long as it takes, I promise you.”
“Your-”
“You can tell me when you get here.” His phone pinged. “Is the car outside?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good. Run. Now.”
Eddie heard a chime, and a curse, and some shouting, and the sound of a struggle, which became the sound of his heart stopping. Then he heard her shout, “Drive!” and heard his own breathing resume. He sank into what he now thought of as his red chair, beside the fireplace. He reached for the whiskey decanter, but couldn’t lift it. His hand shook too badly.
“Lock the doors,” he croaked.
“Done.” Susie sounded giggly. It was adrenaline. At any other time, he’d be delighted. His brave girl. His precious, darling, reckless, bright, mad girl. She would be the death of Edward, sooner or later. Whether he died by violence or a stress-induced cardiac event brought on by loving her, that was the real question.
“Open up your snacks; you need sugar.”
“You really do think of everything, don’t you?” she said, breezily. “They didn’t have gummy cola; I had to get sharks.”
Eddie clicked his tongue. “Poor lamb.”
“I got you those pistachios you like, too.”
His eyes flooded. He squeezed them shut. “Thanks.”
“It’s me who should be thanking you, Your Grace.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Sorry,” she said, quickly, and he felt like he’d slapped her in the face. “And I’m sorry about the bother-”
“Don’t.” Eddie tried to control his breathing. “Don’t apologise. You’ve nothing to apologise for. You did exactly the right thing, and you did it perfectly. I’m…” I’m happy you’re alive. I’m glad you’re coming here. I’m never, ever letting you go. “I’m proud of you.”
“Edward…” She breathed his name like it meant slipping into a hot bath, or cool sheets. He should really have a room made up. He’d get on that any second, now. Really. When his legs could move, again. When he stopped wanting to throw up.
“Just come home. Here. Just come here. In one piece. We’ll sort the rest later.” He rolled his toes in the carpet again. “Eat your sharks. Have some water. Traffic’s light; you’ll be here in…” He checked the app. “Thirty-nine minutes.”
“That must be a record.”
“Well, it was very clever of you to narrowly avoid abduction so close to the A3.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” He heard cellophane opening and gummy shark populations being decimated. “Just think how it might’ve gone next year, with all the M25 closures.”
Eddie’s heart found his throat. Susie’s adrenaline was still high; later, when it crashed, that little joke of hers would no longer be a joke and she’d realise how real the threat was. “I guess you’ll just have to move in, won’t you?”
She chewed. Made pleased little yummy noises behind her teeth. “…Planning to hire me as an au pair, Edward?”
“Well.” He forced his legs to stretch out. Maybe he wouldn’t make up the other room. Maybe he’d sleep in the dressing room himself. “You are the perfect candidate. You’ve already raised one boxing champion, you’re strong enough to run after the little imp all day, you’re excellent at sums, and you know your way around a machine gun. And, as has just been amply demonstrated, you’re extremely brave and resourceful. What more could Chuckles possibly want?”
Dead fucking silence. Eddie’s throat dried. Suddenly he was able to easily open, lift, and pour from his decanter. “Edward,” Susie started to say.
“You don’t speak any other languages, do you? Because that would be the hat trick, in my opinion.”
“Portuguese,” she said, softly. “From Mum.”
“Wonderful. Something neither I nor Chuckles can do. Fantastic.”
She remained silent. Even her chewing had stopped. Eddie threw back his drink. He started to sweat. He’d been very cool, up until now. Cool in all senses of the term. But he’d almost lost her, and she had no idea, no idea about any of it, and- “You owe me new shoes.”
“Send me a link.”
“No.” He heard her lean back against leather. “I think I should maximize the humiliation quotient. Make you take me out. Do the shoe shopping in person. Place a blind item in the gossip columns.”
“That’s just us going shopping. We go shopping all the time.”
“The Village of Hetheringham farmer’s market doesn’t count. It doesn’t sell shoes.”
Eddie checked the app again. “I suppose I should get dressed,” he lied. “So I can open those gates without scandalizing the staff.”
(What he really needed to do was run cold water over his wrists and his neck. Possibly even just have a shower. And clean his teeth. And figure out what he was going to say to Mother. And decide how to tell Susie’s dad. And scream himself hoarse into a pillow until the taste of tinfoil left his mouth.)
“Oh.” She sounded surprised. “Right. Okay. Be seeing you.”
She rang off. Perversely, Eddie found himself unable to move, and unable to let go of his phone. But eventually his bladder won out, and the taste in his mouth. And then she was within minutes of the gates, and he was putting on shoes and stopping at the gun cabinet before jogging outside. Chuckles had insisted that all the firearms be safely stowed and locked away. This was, of course, exactly the right thing to do. But Eddie missed having the Lee-Enfield under his bed, just a little. Especially at moments like this.
Eddie left the rifle propped against the gate tower when the Rover made the turn. He’d checked the trailcams earlier; no one had driven up. Once Collins’ men knew where she was going, he surmised, they would have let her go and RVP’d elsewhere to re-group. He should see if anyone new was renting one of the nearby houses, for the summer. The Wards might know; they watched the lanes like no one else did.
Susie exited the car like this was a completely ordinary airport drop-off, and not a witching hour rendezvous with a barefoot woman carrying candy and wine and nothing else. She didn’t even have a coat. Eddie’s throat closed. He threw back the chain. The iron gates squealed and shrieked as he opened them.
“Hi,” Susie said, shyly.
“Your dress,” Eddie rasped. “What happened to your dress?”
It was just barely hanging off her. Someone had ripped it. Ripped it all the way down at the back so it flapped open at the front. Half the sequins at her throat were gone. The red lace was in tatters.
“Well.” Susie shrugged. “You know how it is. My adoring fans just can’t leave me alone.”
The rear lights on the car flared red, and then the headlamps disappeared, and with them their light. The two of them stood so still that the motion sensor lights at the gates doused, too. Night fell anew all around them. Gravel crunched as she stepped forward, and then Eddie wrenched her to him. Their bodies met, and the lights came on.
“It’s all right.” She reached up hesitantly to pat his shoulders. “Really. It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t.”
His fingers tangled in her hair. It had fallen out, somewhere between here and there, and now it was loose again. Eddie couldn’t remember ever being allowed to hold Susie like this. Maybe once, in a crowded lift? Or partying with the Wards? But even then, he doubted it was this close, with one hand spanning her bare ribs and the other cradling the back of her head and his lips drifting mindlessly over her hair. How was he supposed to let her go, after this? How was he supposed to live without this, now that he knew what it felt like to have her melt so trustingly into him?
“No,” Susie agreed. Her breath hitched a little. The night was catching up to her, now. “It isn’t.”
“I’m here.” He squeezed tighter. “As promised. I’m right here, Susan.”
“I know.” She was nodding into his chest, digging in, and he would never have her close enough, not even if he cut himself open and plucked out his heart and let her hide inside the space left vacant. “You said you’d wait, and you did.” Her nails bit into his shoulders. She sniffled slightly. “Were you waiting long?”
Only nine months, he thought, as the lights went off. Only my entire life.
“Well. It felt like forty years, and not forty minutes. I’ll say that much.”
“I’m sorry,” she quailed.
“No, Susan, don’t, don’t say that, please don’t say that-” Eddie perched his chin on her head. Then her shoulder. Than against her neck. She was so much smaller without her heels on. Strong and lithe and undefeated, still, but smaller, with a ripped dress and running mascara and no shoes because they had tried to take her away from him. “Let’s go home. All right? Let’s get you inside. You’ll feel better inside.”
“Okay.” She paused. “I forgot to tell you; we won fifty quid.”
Eddie withdrew a little. “What?”
Susie lifted her hands, and the lights flooded the drive again. She pulled a scratchcard from below what remained of her collar. “See?”
He couldn’t do this, anymore. It was beyond bearing. He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “You earned it.”
“I earned more than that, thanks very much,” she said, and stretched up on her toes. The kiss was clumsy, almost girlish in its eagerness and uncertainty. But when Edward finally realised it was actually happening, he righted himself, and opened for her, and breathed her in. They moulded so close for so long that the motion sensors threw them into darkness. It was this that spurred him to break the kiss. He needed darkness of another sort, if this were to go any further, and it could only be found behind the door to the ducal apartments. Susie tucked her winning card inside the outer pocket of his jacket. She continued their conversation as though the world had not just fundamentally tilted on its axis: “And so did you, for that matter. Can we walk on the grass? Just it’s, you know, nicer on bare feet.”
Eddie groped blindly for the rifle and slung it back over his bad shoulder. The lights found them again. “I’ll do you one better,” he said, and hitched Susie up over his right. “I’ll carry you over.”
“You don’t have to do that-”
“Yes.” Edward fixed his gaze on the orange glow of banked coals in the reception hall fireplace, just barely visible past the threshold. “I do, rather.”