Warhol's Prophecy

25

AS HAILEY WALKED back into the kitchen, she found Walker standing looking at some photographs that hung on the wall near the cooker.

Photos of Becky.

‘She was a beautiful baby,’ he commented, without turning.

Hailey smiled and joined him, eyeing each of the four framed colour ten-by-eights in turn.

‘Those were taken at three months, six months, nine months and one year,’ she explained.

‘Who do people say she resembles?’ Walker wanted to know.

‘My mum and dad reckon she looked like Rob when she was a baby, but she’s grown more like me as she’s got older.’

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the photos.

‘Yes, she has. She’s beautiful,’ he said quietly.

‘Would you like another coffee?’ Hailey asked. ‘Perhaps you can drink this one in peace. Caroline does tend to go on a bit.’

‘She seemed friendly enough.’ He smiled, eyes still scanning the kitchen walls.

He noticed a couple of roughly drawn crayon sketches, which he guessed had been done by Becky. On another wall hung a calendar featuring different views of New Zealand. Opposite it, next to the phone, a small piece of paper cut from a newspaper had been Blu-tacked to the wall. It featured Sky TV’s live-televised match schedule.

There were a couple of small framed prints, of the Vatican and the Bridge of Sighs, and another of the Duomo in Florence. Beneath it a framed menu from Lindy’s Restaurant in Times Square.

‘You’ve travelled a lot,’ said Walker, studying this array of memorabilia.

‘That’s stuff Rob and I brought back from Italy and New York,’ she told him.

‘What about your trips abroad with Jim Marsh? Didn’t you bring back anything from those?’

She put the cup in front of him, and sat down opposite.

‘Just odds and ends,’ she said. ‘Usually presents for relatives. I never got too much chance to go shopping, you know. It was hard work.’

He nodded and sipped his coffee.

‘What does your friend Caroline do for a living?’ he wanted to know.

‘Believe it or not, she’s a writer.’ Hailey chuckled. ‘I know you might find that hard to believe.’

Walker looked suddenly interested.

‘What does she write?’ he asked enthusiastically.

‘She’s done a couple of non-fiction books about crime. One of them about serial killers. I don’t think either of them sold that well, but she doesn’t need money from her writing anyway. It’s more of a hobby for her.’

‘Why doesn’t she need money?’

‘Both her ex-husbands paid her large divorce settlements, and she invested the money wisely.’

‘Does she still write now?’ he persisted.

Hailey nodded. ‘I think she’s working on something at the moment.’

‘Another crime book?’

‘I’m not sure. She doesn’t talk about it much.’ Hailey grinned. ‘I’m sure if you ask her, she’ll let you have copies of what she’s written.’

‘She sounds like a talented woman. I admire talent in anyone. If they’ve got it, they should use it. Talent keeps boredom at bay.’ He smiled.

‘I don’t think Caroline’s ever had a boring day in her life,’ Hailey said wistfully.

‘And what about you, Hailey?’

‘I haven’t got time to be bored. Not with a house, a child and a husband to look after.’

She was aware of him gazing at her. She met his stare and held it.

‘I’m sorry if I interrupted anything, I should have called first and asked if it was OK to come round,’ he said apologetically. ‘But I didn’t think you’d mind.’

‘I don’t,’ she said softly.

They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, drinking their coffee, gazing at one another. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, Hailey realized. There was no need for them to speak. No desperate attempts were necessary to fill the gulf between their snippets of conversation.

It feels right, doesn’t it?

She watched as he finished his coffee.

This stranger.

You’ve met this guy only twice, and you’re now sitting drinking coffee with him in your own kitchen.

‘You certainly have got a beautiful house,’ he said finally. ‘It must have involved a lot of work.’

She nodded.

‘A lot of ambition too,’ he added. ‘This place is like a sign that you’re both successful, isn’t it?’

‘It’s not meant to be. We liked the house, so we bought it. Quite simple really.’ She smiled, but her smile wasn’t returned.

‘But people will look at this house and know that someone successful lives here – someone with money,’ he insisted.

‘It’s our home, Adam, not a status symbol.’

‘When I’m famous I’m going to have a house so big you’ll need golf carts to get from room to room.’ He laughed.

‘And servants?’

‘Probably. A couple of maids, a cook, a butler. Whatever famous people have.’

They both laughed.

‘Call me if you need a PA,’ she joked.

‘I will,’ he told her, reaching across the table.

Even without thinking, she touched his outstretched fingers with her own.

The contact felt as if someone had pumped a small electrical charge through her.

‘I’d better go,’ he said quietly.

‘You don’t have to rush off, Adam,’ she assured him.

‘I was intending to visit my father,’ he told her. ‘I ought to go now.’

She nodded. ‘Is he very bad?’

‘He probably won’t even recognize me,’ Walker said philosophically. ‘But at least I’ll be there for him, for an hour or two.’

‘It must be hard for you.’

‘Sometimes he remembers things. He’ll talk about things that happened years ago. Other times he just stares at the wall – or at me. He asked one of the nurses to throw me out once. It’s a horrible disease.’

‘What about the rest of your family?’ she wanted to know. ‘Do they visit too?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said quickly. ‘We’ve never been a close family. We don’t keep in touch.’

‘Not even with your sister, the one whose little boy was killed?’

‘Like I said, we’re not that close.’

Hailey nodded, deciding not to press her point.

‘I once said to my father that it was ironic – with him having been a vicar all his life. He’d served God, and then God had done that to him: taken his mind. Amusing in a perverse kind of way, isn’t it? God must have one hell of a sense of humour.’

Walker got to his feet.

She walked with him to the front door.

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ he said. ‘Sorry again for barging in.’

‘I’m glad you did.’ She touched his hand and held it for fleeting seconds.

‘Give my regards to your husband,’ he told her.

She nodded.

‘He won’t mind that I came by, will he?’ asked Walker.

‘He’ll be sorry he missed you.’

She moved to open the door, in the process leaning close to him, close to his face.

Hailey could smell him distinctly, that musky scent from his leather jacket.

She swallowed hard.

Again her heart was thudding that little bit faster.

‘Tell Becky I called,’ said Walker, as he stepped out into the porch.

‘I hope things go all right with your father,’ she said.

He nodded and turned to walk away.

‘See you again,’ she said.

I hope.

He waved.

She watched until he had disappeared around the corner.