Beyond Here Lies Nothing (The Concrete Grove Trilogy) by Gary McMahon Page A

swigged his coffee like a navvy on a tea-break, enjoying the way he almost choked on the now lukewarm liquid. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, almost slobbering. “Jesus... you must think I’m a pig.”
    Abby shook her head. “I worked you hard last night.” Beneath the table, he felt her bare foot touch his leg, rubbing along his shin bone. “You need to replace that energy.”
    “About last night...” He shook his head when the cliché came out of his mouth. “Fuck, that sounds crap. I’m sorry. I’m trying to be original, I really am.”
    She shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ve been here before, too many times. I know the script by heart. It was a one-night stand. You don’t want to see me again. Don’t even want my number.”
    “No, wait...”
    “It’s fine. Really, it is. I don’t want to give you my number anyway. I’m not after a boyfriend, or even a fuck buddy. I don’t need anybody permanent in my life.”
    “Listen, that’s not what I meant.”
    She stopped talking, started pushing the eggs around her plate with a fork.
    “I meant the opposite, actually. I... I would like to see you again. I do want your number.”
    She raised her eyes and stared directly into his face, as if examining him for facial scars. Her eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared.
    “My daughter wasn’t the first one to go missing. She was the fourth. The final one.”
    Marc said nothing. He didn’t want to break the spell. That’s exactly how it felt; as if some kind of magic was being weaved, some form of urban witchcraft.
    “The Press called them the Gone Away Girls. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Like poetry, or a song lyric. They loved that fucking name, the reporters. They used it all the time...I think they were gutted when my Tessa was the last and they didn’t get to use it again, except whenever they resurrected the case to sell some extra copies.” She was rubbing her hands, as if soaping them at the sink, trying to scrub off the dirt.
    Marc put down his knife and fork. “You don’t have to tell me any of this. It’s okay. I understand. It’s personal.”
    She stood, carried her plate to the sink, and left it there. Then she sat back down at the table. “Tess’s father is still around. He lived in the area. Not in the Grove, not anymore, but nearby. He comes round here sometimes. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he always wants to have sex. He cries when he comes. He weeps like a baby into my shoulder.”
    Marc sat and stared as she spoke, unable to focus his thoughts. Was this a brush-off, or something else? The woman was maddening. She always made him feel as if he’d not quite understood what she’d said, or had missed the crucial point of the conversation.
    “I think he wants to save me,” said Abby, looking down at the table, still wringing her hands. “But that’s the last thing I need. They always, always want to save me, and not once do they stop to even think that I might not want to be fucking saved.” Her eyes were shining. She blinked several times before continuing. “Just promise me one thing, Marc. Promise me that you won’t try to save me.”
    He could not fight her. The will was too strong.
    “I... I promise,” he said, not entirely sure what kind of promise he was making. It felt so much wider, deeper, than what she’d asked.
    She nodded her head. “That’s the only thing I’ll ever ask of you, and if you break that promise I’ll ask you to leave and never come back again.” She stood and went to a cupboard, opened the door and took out a cardboard box file. “Every man I’ve ever met seems to think I want to be saved, when all I want is a nice fuck and a warm body next to me at night.”
    She dropped the box file onto the table and stepped back, folding her arms across her tiny chest. “There they are. The Gone Away Girls.”
    Marc reached out and opened the file. Inside was a sheaf of newspaper clippings, each one reporting the