Warhol's Prophecy

75

HAILEY THOUGHT HOW pale he looked.

Rob sat right on the edge of the chair, a tumbler of brandy cradled in his hands. Hair, plastered by the rain, sticking to his forehead.

Every now and then he would take a sip of the Courvoisier, gazing down into its depths as if seeking answers there.

Hailey perched on the arm of the chair beside him, gently massaging his shoulders.

He had blundered into the house less than fifteen minutes ago, eyes bulging, face set in hard lines. She had been thoroughly frightened by his appearance, especially when he brushed past her into the sitting room without speaking. His clothes were soaked with rain and perspiration. His skin was cold and waxy.

When he had finally managed to force out words, they were ones like ‘police’ and ‘murder’ and ‘maniac’. What he was saying made no sense. His sentences were garbled, like a message breaking up over radio waves.

Outside, the storm continued to rock the night, and not for the first time Hailey glanced upwards. The thunder had already woken Becky once that night, and it had taken a while to get her back to sleep. But at the moment Hailey’s main concern was for her husband, who just sat gazing blankly ahead. It was as if he was seeing something beyond the walls of the house. Something that she could not see herself.

‘He tried to kill me,’ Rob said finally, still staring ahead.

‘Who?’ Hailey wanted to know.

‘The fucking nutter who tried to run me off the road.’ He swallowed more brandy.

‘Did you get a look at him?’ she asked.

Rob shook his head.

‘What about the make of his car?’ Hailey enquired.

‘It was too dark, what with the rain and everything . . .’ He allowed the sentence to trail off.

‘Why would someone want to kill you, Rob?’

‘How the fuck would I know?’ he snapped, downing what was left in his glass and getting to his feet, swaying unsteadily.

Hailey took the glass from him and refilled it before handing it back to him.

‘All I know is that’s what happened,’ Rob said, slumping back down in his seat. ‘Some fucking maniac came out of nowhere and tried to run me off the road.’

‘It could have been a drunk driver you annoyed. Or some delinquent kids in a stolen car.’

‘Could have been.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Jesus, Hailey, you should have seen it happen. I thought I was going to die.’

She put both arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her.

‘I’ve got to call the police,’ he said, moving away slightly.

‘What’s the point?’

‘Are you serious? There’s some fucking lunatic out there on the road, pissed or drugged up, or both. He might decide to have a go at someone else, and they might not be as lucky as me.’

‘But, Rob, what can you tell them? You didn’t see the driver, so you can’t give them a description. You didn’t even see the car.’

He swallowed more brandy and got to his feet.

‘I’ve got to tell them,’ he insisted.

Hailey stood too, blocking his way to the phone.

‘No,’ she said flatly.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ he demanded.

‘Don’t call the police.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Why not?’ he wanted to know. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘I can handle it, Rob.’

‘You can handle it?’

‘I know who tried to kill you – and why.’