I Choose You by Gayle Curtis

Author:Gayle Curtis [Curtis, Gayle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542008181
Published: 2020-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THEN

Having seen Steven at the group, Nathaniel had arranged to meet him the following day but had decided not to tell anyone. He wanted to work some things out for himself first – he felt so ostracised from the investigation, so cut off from knowing the facts of what had happened to Ida that he needed some space to think. He couldn’t help feeling like the obvious answers were right in front of him, loosely laid out within his day-to-day life, but he couldn’t see them.

Sitting opposite Steven in a café, Nathaniel realised why he hadn’t recognised him immediately – his left eye was completely blacked out, no white left, as if his pupil had burst and leaked. He’d also grown a beard, which was auburn against his darker hair. Nathaniel could see he was nervous; his forehead glistened, and he continually raked his fingers through his hair. The movement began to irritate him. Someone else he knew did that, but he couldn’t recall who.

‘So, why were you at the support group?’

‘I told you, I’m just doing a bit of research, for a book I’m writing. I’ve been discharged from the army.’ Steven pointed to his injured eye. ‘And I’m looking for material.’

Nodding, Nathaniel observed him again as Steven told him what he was writing about. He was trying to be casual, leaning back in his chair then pushing himself forward, linking his fingers together and resting them on the table – a sign, Nathaniel thought, that he was desperate for Nathaniel to be okay with him.

‘Why didn’t you answer my message?’ Nathaniel had tried to contact him, and many others, when Ida was attacked – just a long shot that someone might know something. He hadn’t realised until he recognised him that he had been one of the few who hadn’t answered.

‘I’ve been off the radar for a bit, to be honest . . . I quite literally came back the day before I bumped into you.’

‘Oh?’

‘I went away for a few months; a digital detox, shall we say.’ Steven laughed but Nathaniel didn’t laugh with him; none of this was funny.

‘You know Ida has been attacked . . . you know what happened?’

‘Yeah, sure, of course I do. I’m really sorry . . . it’s awful, I don’t really know what to say, to be honest . . . To be honest, mate, I was worried about getting in touch after what happened the last time I saw you . . . we didn’t exactly part on good terms.’

To be honest, to be honest, to be honest, Steven tagged these words on to every sentence and Nathaniel began to analyse what they meant. When was he not being honest? He thought about asking him but decided against it. He could see Steven was uncomfortable, which was nothing new; he was used to people not knowing what to say, cutting themselves off. What few friends they did have had drifted away gradually over the last few years, unable

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