The Verdict

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The Verdict Page 8

by Olivia Isaac-Henry


  ‘You see?’ she said.

  ‘Is this Dominic?’ Julia asked.

  ‘Yes. But don’t you see?’

  Julia studied the picture. It had been snapped in the back garden at Downsview Villa. She recognised the terrace and bushes, which had grown several feet since the photograph was taken. For the first time it struck her how strange it was that there were no pictures of Genevieve’s son about the house. Perhaps she kept them in her bedroom or the lounge, which was off-limits to the lodgers.

  ‘You must be able to see it.’

  Julia wasn’t sure what was required of her. Genevieve looked on, willing her to understand the picture’s significance.

  ‘See?’ Genevieve said again.

  The awkwardness was becoming tangible.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Julia said. What was Genevieve talking about?

  ‘They’re so alike.’

  ‘Who are?’ Julia asked.

  ‘Dominic and Brandon.’

  Julia studied the photograph again. They were both male and, had Dominic lived, they would be about the same age. The similarities ended there.

  ‘Is that why you like Brandon so much?’ Julia asked.

  ‘It’s some sort of miracle. I don’t believe in them in the religious way. But my astrologer—’

  ‘Your astrologer?’

  Alan’s irritation with this woman was becoming more forgivable.

  ‘My astrologer said I would find solace for Dominic’s loss. He has come back. Not in the way I thought. But he has come back.’

  Julia examined her face to find traces of acting but Genevieve appeared completely sincere. Perhaps she’d been playing the role for so long she’d forgotten who she was. Forever Genevieve and never Jenny.

  ‘And you think Brandon is Dominic?’

  ‘Not exactly, but in essence they are the same. I’m letting him have Dominic’s room – you know, the one overlooking the garden – rather than the downstairs one directly below yours. It feels fitting.’

  Neither Valium nor vodka could produce this. Genevieve needed help.

  ‘Have you told your sister any of this?’ Julia asked.

  Genevieve sat upright and looked a little panicked. ‘Ruth? No. She wouldn’t understand, and you mustn’t mention it to her. Or to Alan.’

  At least on some level she must realise how far-fetched her claims sounded.

  ‘Of course, if he reminds you of Dominic.’

  ‘It’s more than that.’

  ‘Genevieve, I know you want Dominic to return in some way, but Brandon is, well, Brandon. You can see that, can’t you?’

  ‘It’s his eyes. I can see it in his eyes.’

  ‘After Dominic …’ She needed to choose her words carefully. ‘After Dominic left, did you ever see anyone, a counsellor perhaps?’

  ‘Oh, they tried. But I wouldn’t go. You pay them a fortune to talk rubbish and they tell you all your problems are down to sexual repression.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s quite like that. Maybe if you saw someone, they might help you accept—’

  ‘Accept what? What are you saying?’

  She should never have started the conversation. Looking at the pain in Genevieve’s eyes, she could not say, Accept that he died eight years ago on a Swiss mountain. Instead she said, ‘Accept that Brandon is Brandon, not Dominic.’

  Even this was too brutal. Genevieve stood up and snatched the photo from Julia.

  ‘I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have spoken to you. For some reason I thought you’d understand. I’d never have shown you the photograph otherwise. I don’t show it to just anyone. I hate strangers gawping at him. That’s why I don’t keep pictures around the house. I showed you because I thought you’d believe me.’

  ‘Genevieve, I’m sorry.’ Julia stood up too.

  ‘No. It’s my mistake. Sorry to have disturbed you. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘Please, Genevieve.’

  The door slammed and Julia was left staring at the white-painted wood, before she moved to the window and stared out onto the green bank rising up before the house. She’d done nothing wrong, had no reason to feel guilty. And yet her conscience troubled her. She could have done more, but what? Perhaps humour Genevieve a little. Yes, I can see the likeness. How marvellous for you. Or would that have been crueller in the long run? Genevieve really did need help. She’d speak to Ruth, next time she was in the garden.

  Pearl’s book could no longer hold her attention. Part of her wished she’d gone drinking with the boys. The weekend was three days away and she’d be in London from Friday to Sunday. On Monday, she’d start looking for a new place.

  That night she dreamt of a thin teenage boy, sitting on her bed.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Dominic. I’m moving back in and you’re moving out.’

  The scary PhD student from her original house search came into the room and picked up Julia’s packed suitcase.

  ‘You’ll be living with me now. Come,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ Julia shouted. ‘No. Where’s Genevieve? Tell her I’m sorry.’

  The front door banging woke Julia up. She switched on the bedside lamp, expecting to see the indent of a lanky teenage boy in her duvet. Noises came from the hall below. Some drunken shushes and a female giggle. Footsteps ascended the stairs. She heard Alan say, ‘Night, mate.’

  Then two sets of footsteps went towards Brandon’s room. He didn’t waste any time.

  Chapter 17

  2017 – Archway, London

  Despite my troubled night on the sofa, Audrey manages to slip past me and I’m woken by the door shutting behind her. I sit up and stretch the knots out of my spine as I try to digest last night’s events. The silent phone call spooked me more than the police visit. It can’t have been a coincidence, coming straight after they left. I’d think it was Gideon trying to mess with my head, if I didn’t know that his self-interest always comes first, even before his spite.

  Thank God I’m going to Pearl’s tonight. If I spend any longer rattling around in my own head, checking Garrick’s phone every five minutes, freezing with fear each time my other one beeps, I’ll end up losing my mind.

  When Rudi answers the door to his and Pearl’s Maida Vale town house, I immediately feel safer. It’s the first time I’ve seen them since their return from America and my separation. He gives me a massive hug and leaves his arm around my shoulders as he leads me inside.

  ‘The only thing I blame you for is sticking with him for so long,’ he whispers in my ear.

  I envy Pearl. Rudi’s just so … reasonable. He doesn’t scream at her if she breaks a glass or tell her she’s getting fat if she puts on two pounds. He buys her packets of Minstrels when she’s feeling low and whisks their twins, Elsie and Lola, off to the Natural History Museum if she’s frazzled. I don’t fancy him, my envy is entirely benign. It’s just a longing for the marriage I never had. And the girls adore him, as does Sam. He’s closer to Rudi than his father, who he circles at a distance. Perhaps having discovered a joint enemy in me will draw them together. In the past, the only good thing my husband had to say about his son was that he was a son and not a daughter. He would have demanded another child if he’d been a girl. All through my pregnancy I was convinced I was carrying a girl. She was to be called Ariadne. We would be best friends and I would avoid all the mistakes Audrey made with me. But Sam turned out to be a boy and I just made different mistakes.

  As we near the stairs Lola runs into the hall and clutches my legs. Elsie jumps from four steps up and wraps her arms around my neck. I fall backwards, and Rudi has to step in to stop me toppling over.

  ‘Girls, are you trying to knock Auntie Jules out? You’ve only been allowed to stay up for a goodnight kiss.’

  ‘Come and sleep in our room, Auntie Jules,’ Elsie says.

  ‘I’m not staying over this time,’ I say.

  ‘But we want to see you,’ Lola says.

  ‘You can make us pancakes for breakfa
st,’ Elsie says.

  ‘You could stay, Jules,’ Rudi says.

  ‘Yes, do stay. I should have said.’ Pearl comes out of the lounge and tries to give me a hug but can’t get close enough because of the girls. She prises Elsie’s hands from my neck.

  ‘Aw, Mum.’

  ‘Time for bed, you two. You’ve seen Auntie Jules.’

  ‘But she’s not staying.’

  ‘I’ll come another time,’ I say.

  ‘Come and read us a story.’

  ‘Bed,’ Pearl says.

  ‘Just a short one,’ Lola pleads.

  I look at Pearl. She shrugs her shoulders.

  ‘Maybe I could manage a short one,’ I say.

  Elsie and Lola are six and still share a room. Their beds sit either side of a shared nightstand with matching lamps, yellow with a fringe. I sit on Elsie’s bed with my back against the wall, a twin either side, leaning into me. They still have the clean sweet smell of small children. I open The Gruffalo. And though they’ve heard it a hundred times, they sit silent and engrossed, as if it’s their first listening.

  They remind me of Sam at that age, wide-eyed and excited about everything. Each bedtime story is an adventure. He used to sit with his knees tucked up under the duvet. ‘Again, again,’ he’d say, and I’d read for much longer than I’d intended. Then I’d tuck him in and kiss him on the head. ‘I lubs you, Mummy,’ he’d say. Now he’s six inches taller than me and calls me a whore.

  When I finish the story, Elsie demands another, though Lola’s eyes are drooping.

  ‘Next time,’ I say.

  ‘Please, Auntie Jules.’

  ‘I’ll come over again soon.’

  I carry Lola to her bed and tuck her in as I used to do for Sam.

  ‘Night, night,’ she says softly, her eyes closed.

  ‘Night, Lola. Night, Elsie.’

  ‘Auntie Jules?’ Elsie says.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You can come and live with us. You can share with me and Lola. We wouldn’t mind, and you could read us a story every night.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Elsie.’

  ‘Mum says you’ve nowhere to live.’

  ‘I have a flat now.’

  ‘But you argued with Uncle.’

  ‘Everyone argues sometimes, even friends.’

  ‘Will you make friends again soon? We want to see Sam.’

  ‘We’ll see – now go to sleep.’

  I slump onto the sofa next to Pearl. She puts her arm over my shoulder. Rudi doesn’t bother asking me if I want a drink – he just hands me an enormous goblet of red wine. ‘Are you hungry? We’ve some Thai curry left.’

  ‘I’ve no appetite.’

  ‘Are you all right, sweetie?’ Pearl asks.

  ‘Of course she’s all right,’ Rudi says. ‘She’s just got rid of that arrogant shit.’

  ‘Rudi!’ Pearl says.

  ‘I’m only speaking the truth.’

  ‘What if they get back together?’

  ‘Then this conversation never took place.’ He fixes his eyes on me. ‘You’re not getting back together, are you, Jules?’

  ‘No,’ I say.

  ‘See.’

  ‘If you put it like that,’ Pearl says. ‘You’ve got to do what’s best for you, Jules.’

  ‘She already has,’ Rudi says and screws up his face. ‘I never liked him and neither did you, Pearl.’

  Pearl opens her mouth to protest.

  ‘It’s all right, Pearl, I did realise,’ I say. ‘You’ve both been unbelievably patient.’

  ‘Not as patient as you,’ Rudi says.

  ‘And Sam’s a sweet boy,’ offers Pearl.

  Why has she tacked this on the end – overcompensation? Doesn’t she like Sam either? Has he become too much like his father and I haven’t noticed? Rudi seems to sense the direction of my thoughts.

  ‘If Sam’s taking this hard, I can speak to him. I’ve tickets for the Quinns game next week.’

  ‘Is he still coming?’

  ‘As far as I know.’

  I look at Pearl. ‘You know it was him who found us, saw us together.’

  ‘I heard. Andre told me.’ She grimaces. ‘At that age you don’t want to think of your parents having sex with each other. Let alone with your rugby coach.’

  ‘You know, the few friends I’ve told almost slap me on the back. Wahey, a rugby coach. Well done.’

  ‘It’s the female equivalent of shagging an air hostess,’ Rudi says.

  ‘They wouldn’t have been so congratulatory if they’d seen him.’

  ‘No Jonathan Joseph then?’ Pearl says.

  I shake my head.

  ‘Better luck next time.’

  I clasp my wine glass in both hands. ‘Our marriage was over years ago, but this … I could cope with all of it, if it weren’t for Sam. He hates me.’

  ‘He’ll come round,’ Pearl says.

  ‘Will he?’

  Pearl rubs my back and Rudi refills my glass.

  ‘And I’ve been getting weird messages.’

  ‘From shithead?’ Rudi asks.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  I feel a compulsion to tell someone, though I should really shut up.

  ‘A body’s been found near where I used to live on the Downs.’

  ‘Where?’ Pearl asks.

  ‘The North Downs, near Guildford,’ I say.

  ‘I’d forgotten you used to live out that way.’

  At the time, Pearl had been far too busy building a stellar career in the music industry and falling in love with Rudi to notice much.

  ‘The police came to see me. They think it was one of my old housemates,’ I say.

  ‘Christ – I could have murdered a few of mine.’ Rudi laughs. ‘Do you remember that one who used to keep maggots in the fridge for his fishing?’

  ‘Shut up. This is serious,’ Pearl says.

  I put my glass down so they can’t see my hand shaking. ‘It sounded like the body had been there for some time.’

  ‘So, you did kill someone?’ Rudi is still laughing.

  ‘Shut up, Rudi,’ Pearl says.

  ‘We thought he’d just done a bunk,’ I say.

  ‘Some guy in Fairbridge Road did that. Owed us two hundred quid.’

  ‘The thing is, his parents claimed he never contacted them after that and the year after he’d last been in touch, they paid a private investigator to come and speak to us. I didn’t know anything.’

  ‘Weren’t the police involved back then?’ Rudi asks.

  ‘They thought what we did – that he’d done a bunk.’

  ‘But what’s to link him with this body?’

  ‘I don’t know. And now someone’s been texting me about it.’

  ‘It’s that shithead trying to freak you out,’ Rudi says. ‘He’s pissed off enough.’

  ‘And spiteful enough,’ Pearl adds.

  ‘But the way they’re worded. It’s just not him. I know it.’

  ‘If not him, then who?’ Rudi says.

  ‘The boy’s parents?’ suggests Pearl.

  ‘How did they get my number?’ I ask.

  ‘You can find out anything these days, with the right sources.’

  Rudi’s a corporate lawyer, so knows what he’s talking about.

  ‘And then the police came.’

  ‘Surely that’s routine for them to come and ask questions, if you were sharing the house with him at the time,’ Pearl says.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘It’s made me nervous. I keep thinking someone’s watching me.’

  ‘That’s stress and paranoia.’ She looks worried.

  ‘Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean they aren’t after you,’ Rudi says.

  ‘Thanks, Rudi. Not exactly helpful.’

  ‘I have to trust a lawyer on that one, Pearl,’ I say.

  ‘This isn’t what you need right now, Jules. Not with everything else that’s going on. It’ll make you ill again.’ Her brow creases with conc
ern.

  ‘I’m fine, Pearl.’

  ‘But all this stuff about being watched – it’s like before. Why don’t you stay with us tonight, Jules?’

  ‘It’s not like before, and I can’t turn up to work in yesterday’s clothes.’

  ‘Borrow some of mine.’

  ‘They’ll never fit.’

  ‘I’ll find some that do.’

  ‘Yes, stay,’ Rudi says. ‘Or Pearl will spend the whole night fretting and I’ll get no sleep.’

  ‘Thanks, you two,’ I say.

  A night in a house filled with people will chase away a few ghosts.

  ‘I’ll go and make up the bed,’ Rudi says.

  ‘He’s so lovely,’ I say to Pearl when he’s gone.

  ‘Oh, Jules, why did you ever marry that hateful man?’

  ‘I can’t remember,’ I say.

  But I do remember. It’s the same reason that, despite everything, I want to be with him now.

  Pearl clutches her wine with both hands and looks me straight in the face.

  ‘What did happen in Guildford? You’d changed by the time you moved to London.’

  ‘I grew up, that’s all. You’d done all that before, when you left home at eighteen. I was just catching up.’

  ‘You were different, Jules. Angry, volatile, even before—’ She shakes her head. ‘Don’t you remember swearing at Audrey?’

  I have a vision of a mug smashing into the kitchen wall. I can’t remember the words.

  ‘Audrey’s enough to make anyone lose their patience.’

  ‘And now you’ve moved back to Archway. I’d have thought that’s the last place you’d want to be.’

  ‘The flat’s cheap.’

  ‘Is that all? I wish you’d move over this way. Even stay with us for a while.’

  It’s more than tempting. But the cheer and harmony of their household only serves to remind me of my own desperate situation.

  ‘It’s kind, but it’s easier where I am. If you want to help me …’

  ‘Do you need some money?’

  I’d been preparing the question all evening. I need to get rid of my phone and buy a new one, eradicate all traces of those messages.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘You never turn up empty-handed,’ she says.

 

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