Waiting for Wednesday

girl from my own village.” I’m not a child,
Frieda. It’s not just the plumbers and the haircutters who come here from my
country.’
    ‘I don’t know what to
say.’
    ‘I do not say that it is a good job. I
see her apartment. It is dirty and damp and I see the signs of drugs. That is not
good.’
    ‘Do you want us to do something to
help?’
    ‘Ah,’ he said again,
dismissively. ‘You start there and you finish nowhere. I know this. It is bad to
see but I know it.’
    ‘I should have been the one doing all
of this. It’s my problem not yours.’
    Josef looked at her with concern. ‘Not
good for you to do right now,’ he said. ‘You not well. We are both sad about
her, about Mary. But you were damaged too. Not all better.’
    ‘I’m fine.’
    Josef gave a laugh. ‘That is what
everybody says and it means nothing. “How are you?” “I’m
fine.”’
    ‘It means you don’t need to
worry. And I also want to say that I’m sorry I wasted your time.’
    ‘Waste?’
    ‘Yes. I’m sorry I dragged you
all the way down here.’
    ‘No. Not wasted. The one woman, the
Romanian. I think Romanian. She also have the drugs, I think. You see it in the
eyes.’
    ‘Well, not always …’
    ‘I see it. I talk to her of your Lily.
I think she know her.’
    ‘What do you mean you think?’
    ‘She know a Lila.’
    ‘What did she say about
her?’
    ‘She know her a bit. But this Lila,
she was not completely … What do you say when someone is a bit part of it but
not complete?’
    ‘A hanger-on?’
    ‘Hanger-on?’ Josef considered
the phrase. ‘Yes, maybe. This girl Maria knew Lila a bit. Lila also with the
drugs, I think.’
    Frieda tried to digest what Josef had said.
‘Does she know where we can find her?’
    Josef shrugged. ‘She not see her for a
while. For two months or three months. Or less or more. They are not like us with the
time.’
    ‘Did she know where Lila had
gone?’
    ‘She did not.’
    ‘She must have moved away,’ said
Frieda. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to start. That’s fantastic, Josef.
But I guess it’s the end of the trail.’ Then she noticed a faint smile on
his face. ‘What is it?’
    ‘This Lila,’ he said. ‘She
have a friend. Maybe a friend with the drugs or the sex.’
    ‘Who was it?’
    ‘Shane. A man called Shane.’
    ‘Shane,’ said Frieda.
‘Does she have a number for him? Or an address?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Did she know his second
name?’
    ‘Shane, she said. Only
Shane.’
    She thought hard and murmured something to
herself.
    ‘What you say?’
    ‘Nothing, nothing much. That’s
good, Josef. It’s amazingyou found that out. I never thought
we’d get anything. But what do we do with it?’
    Josef gazed at her with his brown, sad eyes.
‘Nothing.’
    ‘Nothing?’
    ‘I know you need to rescue this girl.
But you cannot do this. Is over.’
    ‘Is over,’ repeated Frieda,
dully. ‘Yes. Perhaps you’re right.’ That evening, Frieda put the plug
in her bath. She had bought oil to pour in and a candle that she would light. For a long
time now, she had imagined lying in the hot foamy water in the dark, just the guttering
candle and the moon through the window to give light. But now it came to it, she found
she wasn’t in the right mood. It would just be a bath. She pulled out the plug and
stood under the shower instead, briefly washing away the day. The bath would have to
wait. It would be her reward, her prize.



THIRTY-NINE
    Before interviewing Paul Kerrigan, Karlsson
Skyped Bella and Mikey, sitting in his office and looking at their photographs in frames
on his desk, and at their jerky images on the screen. They were excitable, distracted.
They didn’t really want to be talking to him and their eyes kept wandering away to
something out of sight. Bella told him about a new friend called Pia who had a dog. She
had a large sweet bulging in her cheek and it was hard to hear what she was saying.
Mikey kept twisting his head to mouth something urgently at whoever was in the room.
Karlsson couldn’t think of anything to talk about. He felt strangely
self-conscious. He told them about the weather and asked them about school, like some
elderly uncle they’d barely ever met. He tried to make a funny face at them but
they didn’t laugh. He ended the call early and went to the interview room.
    Kerrigan’s face was swollen from his
attack. There was a purple and yellow bruise on one cheek and his lip was cut. There
were also pouches of fatigue