Life on Mars: A Fistful of Knuckles. Tom Graham

see it. Together.’

      ‘But we can see it right now, Sam, it’s just over there.’

      ‘No, no, I mean the real thing. In Rome.’

      But she was smiling at him, teasing him.

      ‘I’ll take you to Rome,’ Sam declared. ‘How does that sound?’

      ‘It’s a long way, Sam. And expensive!’

      Sam opened his mouth to say they could easily pop over for a weekend – and then reminded himself that here in 1973, flying visits to Rome were out of the league for humble DI’s like himself to afford.

      ‘I’ll get you there one day,’ Sam promised.

      ‘First Greece, then Italy,’ Annie said, raising her eyebrows. ‘You must have ants in your pants.’

      ‘I lead a jetset playboy lifestyle. Play your cards right and you could be part of it.’

      ‘A chance to live the dream, eh? How can I refuse?’

      Live the dream. Is that all Sam was doing – living a dream, a fantasy? It was the thought that had been haunting him for so long, that none of this existed outside of his own head.

      It exists, he told himself. It’s real. It’s more real than life in 2006, anyway. Stop thinking about all that. Don’t let the doubts gnaw away at you like this.

      He was determined to rid his mind of all the poison planted there by the Test Card Girl. When he was with Annie, the world made more sense. It seemed right and natural to be sitting with her in a restaurant – even in this place – sharing a bottle of wine and just joking around. His place was with Annie. He knew that, deep inside, without reservation. And he was damned if he was going to let anyone or anything destroy that feeling. To hell with the Test Card Girl and her song-and-dance routines; they were nothing – wisps of smoke rising from his subconscious – bad dreams to be woken up from and forgotten.

      And yet. And yet.

      ‘Tell me about your past, Annie,’ he said, topping up her wine glass.

      ‘My past?!’ exclaimed Annie. ‘Oh, it’s one big riot of glamorous people and exotic locations.’

      ‘I don’t know anything about your family, your parents …’

      Annie rolled her eyes. ‘I haven’t come here to talk about all them!’

      ‘I’m interested. What are your mum and dad like? Have you got brothers or sisters?’

      ‘You’re starting to sound like an immigration officer.’

      ‘I just want to know,’ said Sam. ‘How were things at university when you did psychology? Did you have lots of friends? And lots of boyfriends? And what was it like when you started in the police, before I showed up?’

      But Annie just smiled and waved all that away. Why? Why wouldn’t she engage with him about her past? Was she genuinely not interested? Was she hiding something? Or was there some other reason?

      Suddenly, their waiter – who went by the name of Stavros – paused at their table.

      ‘Is-a every-a-thing-a all-a-right-a?’ he enquired.

      ‘Si, grazie mille,’ said Sam.

      ‘Ah, you-a speak-a da Greek-a!’ Stavros beamed.

      ‘I’m fluent,’ said Sam, fixing him with a look.

      ‘Ah! Good! Good!’ grinned Stavros, his face locking into a strange rictus. ‘Moltos bonnos, monsieuro. Avanti, avanti.’

      And with that he vanished back into the kitchens, sharpish.

      ‘I take it all back,’ said Sam. ‘He’s 100% Greek. Absolutely.’

      ‘I haven’t been out like this for ages,’ said Annie. ‘I know it’s a silly place, but it’s doing me the world of good. Work’s been getting me down.’

      ‘Are you still trying to get that girl to speak to you?’

      ‘Tracy Porter? No. No, she’s refusing to name her boyfriend as the bloke who beat her up. She’s discharged herself from hospital and gone back to him. So that’s that. Case closed … until she turns up in A&E again, beaten to a pulp once more. And then I suppose we’ll go through the same song and dance all over again.’

      ‘Like I said before, you can only do what you can do. But Annie, I didn’t come here with you to talk about work. I wanted to talk about us.’

      ‘Of course, Sam. Sorry. My head’s been so full of that stuff.’

      ‘I know. No need to apologize.’ He smiled at her, and she smiled back. ‘Do you remember, Annie, a little while ago – I told you I had a strange feeling of needing to be somewhere important … but I didn’t know where or why. Do you remember that?’

      ‘I remember it,’ said Annie. ‘Of course I do. I told you then that I felt the same thing.’

      ‘And do you still have that feeling?’

      ‘Sometimes. And you?’

      ‘Often,’ said Sam. ‘Most days, in fact. It won’t go away.’

      ‘What does it mean, Sam? Are we going slowly bonkers together?’

      ‘I don’t think so. And if we are … well, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather end up sharing a padded cell with than you.’

      ‘How very romantic,’ said Annie.

      ‘I’m not sure that came out quite right. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because I’m pretty sure we’re not going mad.’ He tried to push out of his mind memories of coming here to the restaurant – mad memories of the Test Card Girl and the hallucinatory worlds she kept dragging Sam into. ‘Do you believe in Fate, Annie?’

      ‘I don’t know. It’s not something I think about. Why? Do you think it’s Fate that’s making us feel the way we do?’

      ‘That’s how it feels.’ He looked for the right words and completely failed to find them. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I can’t express it.’

      ‘Can I tell you something, Sam?’ Annie asked, dropping her voice.

      ‘Something confidential?’

      ‘Yes. It’s about that girl who got beaten up – Tracy Porter – but it’s about me too.’

      ‘Go on.’

      Annie thought for a moment, then said: ‘There was something about her that kept playing on my mind. I lost sleep over it. I thought it was just one of those things … you know, pressures of the job … but now I’m not so sure.’ She paused, looking for the words, then went on slowly: ‘I can’t express it any better than you can, Sam, but … it’s like … it’s like when I looked at Tracy, I felt I was somehow seeing myself … or … a version of myself. No, that’s not quite it. It’s … it’s like …’

      ‘It’s like you needed to save Tracy Porter in order to save yourself,’ said Sam.

      ‘Maybe. Something like that,’ said Annie, looking intently at him from across the table. ‘But … it doesn’t make any sense. Save myself from what?’

      ‘The million-dollar question. I feel the same. And I ask myself the same question, Annie: what is it that’s out there that I’m so afraid of?’

      ‘Because there is something out there … isn’t there, Sam.’

      Sam nodded, and said: ‘God knows what, but yes, I think there is.’

      Instinctively, they reached for each other across the table. Their fingers interlaced.

      ‘Whatever it is out there that’s so frightening,’