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used to hang round with would never call me William, it was always either Bill or Billy and O’ Casey was after Sean O’Casey. I’d been reading Shadow of a Gunman at the time and loved it.’
Another half-smile.
‘But then … James Archer?’
‘Ah, now you mightn’t like this one, but I was reading a fair bit of Jeffrey Archer at the time. A writer who gets slagged off mercilessly, but you can’t deny he writes a great page-turner.’
‘Okay, but what about Oscar Butler then? Hang on, let me hazard a wild guess; you’d been reading Oscar Wilde at the time,’ she said dryly, but he noticed her mouth twisted down into a smile again.
He shrugged and nodded.
‘So basically, every false identity you’ve ever had has been in homage to a writer, either living or dead?’
‘Something like that,’ he told her, armed folded, sitting well back, ostensibly taking her in, but his mind was miles away. What was it to her? Why did she even care? And what was really going on here?
On and on she went with all her questions, almost as though she was carrying some kind of image in her head of what he should be like, how he should behave, and was trying to make him fit that same identikit picture. And it certainly sounded like she’d already done her homework. Because this one was thorough. Seemed to know as much about him as his own mother did.
He was wrong there though, because just as she was wrapping up to leave, it looked like there was still one question she was burning up to ask him.
‘So, emm,’ she began, picking her words carefully. ‘One last thing, if that’s okay?
‘Fire ahead.’
‘Well … Can I ask you what your plans are once you get back outside? Do you plan to finish the degree course you started, maybe even get a decent job out of it?’
The implication was there, hanging in the air between them. Jake had got very good at reading the unspoken.
Did he intend going straight after he got out?
But he couldn’t give her a straight answer to that one.
Because at this particular point in time, it was a question there was just no answer to.
Chapter Six
One month later and to Jake’s utter astonishment, Ms. Eloise Elliot had been as good as her word. Surprising absolutely no one but himself, he sailed through his parole hearing and following one kick-up-the-arse pep talk from his parole officer along the lines of I’ll-be-watching-you-and-don’t-think-I-won’t, he found himself a free man for the first time in two long, long years.
He had nowhere to stay of course, only his mam’s, but he didn’t want to go there. At least not yet. It would be too easy for them to find him, too easy to get sucked back in. And if there was one thing he was certain of, it was this; there was no going back for him. Not now, not after everything he’d been through. And he knew of old that it could all happen so frighteningly easily, a phone call here, a recalled favour there and next thing he knew he’d end up right back where he’d started.
Not long before his release date, Eloise called to visit a second time, to ask him a few more questions, again under the pretext of commissioning a feature for her paper.
She couldn’t stay for long she said, as she had to get back to work, even though it was a Sunday and he figured she’d take a day off, like anyone else. No, she told him, no such thing as a day off in her gig, the news didn’t stop and so therefore neither could she. It struck him as funny that even though it was ostensibly the weekend (ostensibly was his new word for that day, he loved the sound of it, loved the way it rolled off his tongue), here was Eloise still dressed head to toe in black, in one of those interchangeable power suits she seemed so fond of. Neat, structured, minimalist cut, no frills or ornamentation of any kind; almost a bit like how a bloke would dress.
The apparel oft proclaimeth the man, Jake thought, looking through the grille at her. (He’d been reading Hamlet for his course at the time, and some of the quotes just stubbornly got into his head and stuck there.) She was still white as a sheet, still utterly exhausted looking; yet another mystery to Jake. What in the name of God did this woman do in her spare time anyway? Did she have any kind of private life, or even family? Or did she really just work, sleep and visit ex-cons whenever she could? Was her life really that empty, almost as empty as his own? Didn’t make sense, but then none of this did. Why would someone this smart, successful and together be bothered with the likes of him?
‘Guess what?’ Eloise told him excitedly. ‘I’ve got news. Well, more like an offer. That is, if you’re interested.’
‘Tell me more,’ he said, smiling even as she uttered the words, if he was interested. Without even hearing what it was, he was just about ready to jump down her throat at whatever it might be and say yes. When did anyone ever offer him anything, bar trouble? And what other offers were there for him on the table at this point in time, only dangerous crap that would surely be a shortcut to him landing back inside in no time?
‘Well,’ she began, ‘I’ve got a sister Helen, who rented out her flat in Dublin a few years ago when she moved down to Cork.’
‘OK …’
Now, I won’t bore you with the details,’ she explained in that enunciated, school ma’am way she had, ‘but basically now my sister’s staying somewhere else in Dublin. Emm … staying indefinitely. Anyway, her tenant moved out months ago and for the life of her, she can’t get anyone else to take the place. You know what it’s like renting in this market.’
Jake didn’t, but nodded politely.
‘Anyway, now Helen desperately needs someone to house-sit for her. She was about to put an ad in the paper, and then I thought of you. So basically, there’s an empty flat that you’re welcome to stay in until she’s able to rent it out again properly. I thought that it might just suit you for a few weeks, at least until you find a proper place of your own. Plus it’s on the other side of town, so at least you’d be out of harm’s way there, none of your, well, let’s just say no one from your past could possibly ever find you. You’d be doing her a favour too and all she asks is that you look after the place. It’s been empty for seven months now, and needs someone to live in it.’
He sat back, digesting this.
‘So … What do you think?’
‘It’s incredibly generous of you and your sister, but Eloise …’
Shit. It was no use. He couldn’t contain himself any longer.
‘I have to ask you something.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Why are you doing this? I mean, why me? You’re a busy lady, you hardly have time for this. What are you anyway, like one of those Victorian philanthropists who spent their time visiting the prisons and helping the less fortunate? Like some kind of angel in disguise? Don’t get me wrong, I’m hugely grateful to you for the offer, but none of this makes the slightest bit of sense to me.’
She blushed at this. And took her time before answering him, he noticed.
‘Because … Well, I mean, just look at you Jake, you’ve got such potential. All your brilliant exam results? You could easily make something of yourself outside of here, build a whole new life, a better one. I just … I really believe in you and if there’s any way I can help out, I’m here. That’s all.’
He looked intently back at her.
‘And that’s the whole truth? Just look me in the eye, Eloise. If you’re holding back, trust me, I’ll know.’
‘Well …’ she said a bit shiftily. ‘It’s partly the truth.’
‘Partly?’