Next of Kin by Sue Welfare

you do?’
    ‘I went home to talk to Woody.’

Chapter Eight
     
    Riding the bus way back from the hospital, Sarah kept glancing over her shoulder, just in case the men who beat up Ryan were there, just in case they were following her. Would they follow her onto a bus? Worse, would they follow her home? She glanced round at the faces; the boy in the hoodie, the man with tattoos, ponytail and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped out, busy reading his newspaper, were they after her? Or the two men in tee shirts or the fat man in the scruffy suit? She tried hard not to meet anyone’s eye, wishing she had asked Ryan more questions, like what did the men look like? How old were they? She kept her head down, willing herself small and invisible.
    By the time Sarah got through the city the bus was almost empty, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. When they got close to her stop, she got up and stood by the door so she could get off quickly. The driver had barely stopped before she clambered down the steps and headed for home, sticking to the middle of the path, keeping in the light till finally she got to her turning and then she upped her pace, taking one more long glance behind her, before she hurried along the road, ran up the path, slammed the front door behind her and slid across the bolts, top and bottom, her heart thumping like a drum in her ears.
    Sarah stood for a few moments to catch her breath, pressing her back up against the solid wooden door, as if there might already be someone there on the other side, and that she could hold them back. She felt tired and lost, the scent of the hospital clinging to her clothes and hair.
    After a minute or two Sarah took a deep breath, slipped off her coat and hung it up on the hallstand before heading into the kitchen. Her plan had been to make a tea, settle herself, and then go upstairs to see if Woody was in, but it seemed there was no need. He was already in the kitchen. He had his mobile phone in his hand, and was standing by the sink waiting for the kettle to boil. She had a sense that he had been waiting for her to get home.
    ‘So how did it go? How is Ryan?’ he said, glancing over at her, before she had time to say anything. He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket. ‘How’s he doing?’
    Sarah stared at him. Something about his expression unsettled her. ‘How did you know about Ryan?’ she asked.
    ‘Sorry, it was me who took the phone call. The hospital rang here first. I was upstairs working. I hope you didn’t mind me answering the phone. I was expecting a call. I gave them your mobile number. Do you want a tea?’
    Sarah shook her head.
    He dropped his teabag into the bin. ‘So how is he?’
    ‘Awful. His face is a total mess. I didn’t recognise him when I went in. He’s got god knows how many stitches, a broken nose – lost some teeth. Cuts, bruises, cracked ribs. They broke some of his fingers.’ Sarah closed her eyes and made an effort to swallow down an unexpected flurry of tears. She didn’t want to share this with Woody of all people, but who else was there that she could talk to?
    ‘They said they’re going to keep him for a day or two for observation. They’re worried that there might be swelling in the brain. The doctor said he’s lucky he didn’t lose an eye. Or worse. Ryan’s frightened, but he won’t say anything about who did it.’ Sarah met Woody’s gaze. ‘They could have killed him.’
    Woody nodded.
    ‘Why on earth did you have to introduce Ryan to people like that? You told me you were frightened of Farouk, and you know what Ryan’s like. He’s a complete disaster with money. How could they let him borrow so much?’
    ‘Are you sure you don’t want some tea?’ Woody said. His voice was gentle, even, sympathetic. Sarah’s shoulders slumped. Before she could say anything else he was switching the kettle back on, finding a mug. It unsettled her. She didn’t like how proprietorial