The Wolves of London Read Online Free Page B

spread my hands. ‘Talk away.’
    ‘Not here,’ she said, looking around. I couldn’t see who she thought might be listening – the rest of the smokers standing out in the cold with us were strangers – but her expression was furtive all the same. ‘Let’s go inside, get a drink and find a quiet corner in the downstairs bar.’
    ‘Lead the way,’ I said, taking a last drag on my cigarette before dropping the stub, stamping on it and following her back inside.
    There was a little round table next to a group of fat, beardy blokes in T-shirts who were laughing a lot. Candice squeezed herself through to the built-in padded leather bench that ran the length of the wall while I queued at the bar for drinks. By the time I got back she was texting on her phone, a troubled expression on her face, her fingers tapping the tiny keyboard so swiftly they were almost a blur. The tink of our wine glasses on the wooden tabletop and the glassy scrape as I pushed hers towards her caused her face to bob up and produce a tired smile.
    ‘Cheers,’ I said, sitting down and raising my glass towards her, ‘and happy birthday again.’
    ‘Cheers,’ she responded, the Sauvignon Blanc catching the light in little darting shimmers as she lifted her glass and touched it to mine. As I took a gulp of my plummy Merlot she barely wet her top lip before putting her drink back down. She pressed her hands together, aligning her fingertips, and hunched her shoulders as if she was drawing herself in. Her eyes flickered downwards and her lips tightened, as though she’d spotted something unsavoury in the bottom of her glass.
    ‘Think a bit harder,’ I said. ‘My mind-reading powers aren’t what they were.’
    This time my comment didn’t provoke even the twitch of a smile. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘This isn’t easy.’
    ‘Why? Because it’s embarrassing? Because it’s complicated? Because you think I’ll be angry?’
    She made a face, snatched at her glass and took a hefty swig. The beardy blokes on the next table burst out laughing, drawing her gaze for a moment. Then she said, ‘You know I’ve got this boyfriend, Dean?’
    ‘The one you’re hiding from us?’
    ‘I’m not hiding him.’
    My comment was meant as a joke, but her reply was enough of a snap to make me raise my hands. ‘Sorry if I touched a nerve. You mean the one who couldn’t come to your party because he had to work a shift at Nando’s?’
    ‘Yeah… but that’s not the reason.’
    ‘Not what reason?’
    ‘The reason why he couldn’t come.’
    I looked at her and frowned, but she purposely averted her gaze. ‘So what is the reason?’
    It wasn’t only the expression on her face that told me she was in trouble; it was her body language too. She held herself stiffly, the tautly clenched muscles in her neck and exposed arms making me think of a rabbit or deer poised to flee at the slightest sign of danger. I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach; it was a feeling I hadn’t had for a long time, but it was instantly familiar nonetheless. It seemed to take an age before she said, ‘He’s scared.’
    Even now I hoped I was reading the situation wrongly, that my sudden apprehension was misplaced. ‘Scared of meeting us all?’ I asked, but she shook her head.
    ‘Scared of being out in public. Scared of being seen by… certain people.’
    ‘What people?’ Unconsciously my voice hardened. ‘What’s he been up to, Candice?’
    My daughter flinched as though I’d raised a hand to her. ‘Don’t get angry with me , Dad. None of this is my fault.’
    I controlled myself, took a swig of wine. ‘I’m not angry with you, sweetheart. I’m just worried about you. It’s obvious that whatever this boyfriend of yours has done, it’s had a knock-on effect. So why don’t you tell me what you’re involved in?’
    ‘ I’m not involved,’ she said. ‘But that doesn’t mean they won’t take it out on me.’
    ‘Who?’ I asked, and this time the nerves didn’t