‘You should have asked me. They’re my things. They mean a lot to me. Didn’t you think to ask?’
‘You weren’t here, they were in your bottom drawer and I’ve not seen you wear them for ages.’
‘Put him on the fire, Daddy,’ Emily growled, hands on hips.
Max bared his teeth and swung the cloth body up in the air, his past life landing on the hungry fire. They all stood back, quiet now, watching the Guy being swallowed up by flames.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Alison: November 2019
Alison calls out to Jamie for his dinner. For once he’s switched off the TV and gone to his room. He doesn’t answer. This is the third time she’s called him. She stomps up the stairs. He’s probably plugged in to some music or a game and can’t hear a bloody thing. She pushes his door open and is about to shout at him but he’s not there. He’s not in bed because it’s been made. She looks behind the door then opens the wardrobe. He’ll jump out at her in a second and scare her to death. She searches in their bedroom and the bathroom. Did she hear him creep downstairs or was that Poppy moving?
‘Come on, Jamie, no more games, your dinner is getting cold.’
The house is quiet except for the extractor in the bathroom and the wind howling down the road. The back door slams giving her a start. ‘Jamie?’ she calls over the banister. Still no answer. She marches down the stairs. This isn’t funny anymore.
Jamie is standing in the hallway in his coat. His face is red, tear tracks shining on his cheeks.
‘Where’ve you been? I didn’t say you could go out, did I?’ She grabs his arm and he pulls away from her. ‘Why did you go out without asking me?’
‘It’s all your fault Dad hasn’t come home,’ he sobs and runs past her up the stairs. She shakes her head, unsure of what just happened. She’ll leave him to calm down.
* * *
A removals van is parked on next door’s drive when Alison and Jamie arrive home the next day. Two men carry a large box marked ‘kitchen’ through the doorway. A Yorkshire terrier runs out between their legs and stands there barking at her and Jamie. Jamie whimpers and jumps behind her. A middle-aged woman wearing beige cotton trousers, dirtied by dust, steps out and shushes the dog away.
‘Sorry about that, he won’t bite,’ the woman says in a deep smoker’s voice. She steps forward, a large stride for a woman. ‘I’m Natty.’
‘I’m Ali and this is Jamie.’ She manoeuvres him forward, gently tipping his face up by the chin. ‘Jamie’s dad, Adam, is away on business.’ She cringes. She’ll kill him for embarrassing her like this.
‘He’s always away, and it’s all your fault.’ Jamie stamps his foot and pushes his fist into her side.
Alison gives Natty her best smile, but tears are pricking her eyes. She still hasn’t got to the bottom of why Jamie went out yesterday. He’s being very secretive. Her fingers slide over his lips. He frowns up at her, but she won’t look directly at him. She will not put up with this behaviour.
‘George.’ Natty catches the arm of a white-bearded man as he appears behind her. ‘Come and meet our new neighbours.’
George is a short stocky man with surprisingly skinny legs. He’s wearing a big knit sweater, over-the-knee shorts and canvas shoes with no socks. He salutes and tips his sailor’s cap then disappears indoors.
‘We’ll be ship shape by this evening,’ Natty chuckles, showing an uneven set of rotten teeth.
‘Really?’ Alison says. She needs to sit down. This baby feels so heavy today.
‘We don’t have many things, lived on a boat up till now.’
‘Oh.’ Alison doesn’t mean to be abrupt, but she’s put out by people who are more organised than she is.
‘Mind you, it’ll take a while to find our land legs.’ She chuckles. ‘When’s your husband back?’
Alison doesn’t like people assuming she’s married, but she also hates not being able to call Adam her husband. She’s not about to correct her. ‘He probably won’t be back today.’
‘Busy man, is he? That’s a shame.’
Alison thinks she says it like she doesn’t mean it.
‘He works very hard.’ Her voice quivers slightly, making her sound unsure like a child.
Natty smiles widely. It’s more of a disbelieving smirk, meaning we both know the truth: he’s left you and he’s not coming back.
Alison goes to push the key into the lock but misses. She tries again, conscious of being watched. It slides in and she opens the door. Poppy races out barking. The terrier re-appears, growling. Alison pulls Poppy by the collar and shoos him indoors shutting the door behind them.
In the hallway, she detects a fresh lemony smell. The laminate floor looks shiny. She tries to think if it’s ever looked that way since they moved in. The pile of magazines on the bench behind the door has vanished. In fact, all the clutter piled there has gone. In the sitting room, everywhere is tidy. Dusty shelves have been wiped down, fingerprints buffed from the windows. There isn’t one speck of dust or hair on the rug.
Jamie is holding a photo. Even upside down she knows she’s never seen it before. Adam is younger, standing with a dark-haired woman. Their arms are around each other in a garden, but Jamie’s thumb is obscuring the woman’s face. Without thinking, Alison snatches the photo out of his hand.
‘Mum!’
‘Where did you get this?’ She looks closely at the woman, but the quality is grainy. She seems familiar but she can’t place her.
‘On there.’ He points to the coffee table. The glass is gleaming. Not a single smudge or fingerprint.
‘Do you know anything about this?’
He runs upstairs shouting, ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’
What is going on with him? She catches her reflection. The further time goes on, the more she is convinced that Adam isn’t coming back to live with them. But is he trying to torment her to make her leave? Where would she go? She’ll have to ring his work again, but last time she did they hadn’t seen him for ages. She’ll look so stupid asking where he is, like she’s lost him. She’s thought about going to the police, but it’s his house too and none of what he’s doing is a crime they’d recognise. A couple of people on Facebook thought they’d seen him in The Black Bull in Brampton, but nothing came of it when she checked with the landlord.
Upstairs, their bed has been made, smoothed out so there are no creases. All her make-up has been lined up according to size and everything on her dressing table has been placed symmetrically. In the wardrobe, the clothes that are left have been sorted into groups according to colour. But there are big gaps where her clothes have been removed, disposed of, as though bit by bit Adam is trying to erase her from his life. She slumps down on the bed. Why is he doing this to her when they’re about to have their second child? His absence feels like history repeating itself. She knows she’s not perfect and her messiness drives him mad, but does she really deserve him cleaning up after her and ignoring her? The baby gives a sharp kick. What is she going to do? She’s not sure she can face being a single mum again, this time bringing up his two children on her own.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Max: Early December 2017
The remains of the winter sun splashed in vivid lines across the sky. Emily and Chloe were up ahead on their bikes, side by side. He followed on his, bought by Maddy last Christmas. He’d meant to go out on it more during the year, but he never seemed to find the time.
‘Round this last corner then we’ll make our way back,’ he said, catching up with the girls. The park was almost deserted.
‘Do we have to go?’ Emily asked.
‘It’s getting dark. I’ll have to take you camping, won’t I?’
‘Can we? In a big tent?’ Emily asked and Chloe repeated it.
‘Yeah, why not. When it’s warmer though, hey?’
When they got home, Max sent the girls indoors while he wheeled their bikes into the garage. Once he’d locked the door, he did his usual check for messag
es on his silenced mobile phone. Eight missed calls, all from Ali. What the hell? Was Jamie all right? This was their third week in the new house. He wasn’t due to go back there for two days. He hurried inside and put the leads on the dogs.
The girls were already sitting with Maddy, drinking hot chocolate and watching a TV adaptation of Jane Eyre.
‘I’ll just take them for a quick one,’ he said to Maddy, pecking her cheek.
‘What about your drink?’
‘It’ll be too hot for me. Can you cover it and I’ll have it when I come back?’
He crept out, closing the door quietly behind him. The daylight was fading fast. Perhaps the heating wasn’t working, or they’d had a power cut. But would she call him repeatedly for that?
As soon as he reached the field up from Uxbridge Common, he called Ali’s number.
‘Hello?’
Silence.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Her voice sounded broken and distant.
‘What’s wrong?’ Max stopped mid-stride. He automatically unclipped the dogs’ leads.
‘Jamie’s fallen out of that bloody apple tree.’ Her words came in sobs.
Poppy and Daisy ran around him in circles as flashes of white in the near darkness.
‘What’s he doing up a tree at this time of year?’ Stupid, stupid thing to say. Shit, Jamie!
‘Playing, of course. You’re the one who said he watches too much TV.’
Max wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
‘He’s unconscious, Adam. Please hurry up. I have to go in the ambulance now.’
‘I can’t,’ he said, but the line cut off. He stared at the phone, hand trembling. Had she heard him? He couldn’t see where the dogs had gone. He called out to them. A flock of birds rose up from a cluster of trees, silhouettes against the clear moonlit sky. He called the dogs again and crouched down as they bounded up to him licking his face and hands while he struggled to fasten their leads.
As soon as he reached home, he told Maddy that John had phoned and asked him to check on a job, ready for the morning. He said he probably wouldn’t be back until late.
* * *
An hour into the seventy-mile journey, his legs began to stiffen with shock and, soon, he could hardly feel his feet. At the next lay-by, he pulled over by a truckers’ food van. He was trembling all over even though the heating was on full blast. He opened the van door and swung his legs round, but his shoes felt like bricks on his numb feet. He tried stamping the life back into them then walked like a robot towards the aroma of animal fat.
A bald trucker leaning against the side of the van eating a burger, nodded to him. Max nodded back. He bought tea and gripped the scalding polystyrene cup with both hands. What if the fall was serious? What if Jamie had brain damage? He pictured Emily’s tiny blue feet and the paramedics trying to save her. He put the cup back down and touched his brow. No way could he go through that again. His legs wobbled and gave way. Someone grabbed his arms as he was falling.
‘You all right, mate?’ The bald trucker held him up against his wide chest.
‘Not feeling great. Bad news about my boy,’ Max’s voice wavered. His eyes rimmed with tears, grateful for the man’s solid arms around his middle, wishing for a split second that his own dad had been there for him.
The man nodded. ‘You’re in shock. Let’s get some sugar in that tea, Barbs.’ He took the cup and reached out to the counter and the woman dropped in three cubes and stirred. ‘Here you are. You need to take a few minutes, mate.’
‘Thanks, it’s not far to go now, only a couple of junctions.’ Max finished his tea and returned to his car.
Back on the road, he began picturing what he might have to face when he arrived at the hospital. He imagined Ali weeping by Jamie’s bedside, blaming him, except it wasn’t her stricken face he could see, it was Maddy’s. Part of him wished he could turn the van around, drive away and disappear.
He had to pull himself together. Jamie would be fine. He switched on the radio and turned the music up to calm his thoughts, but his hands were trembling again, his legs cold and stiff. He lifted his right hand off the wheel and it hung in mid-air like a dog’s wounded paw. When he focused back on the road, the car was swerving across the white dashes into the next lane. The mournful sound of a lorry’s horn filled the misty night air. Max’s hand snapped back onto the wheel, his heart drumming in his chest.
Chapter Fifty
Max parked under a flickering sallow light in the hospital car park. Inside he followed signs to a desk behind a sliding window. A man with a bandage around his head spoke in a droning voice to the receptionist. A patch of fresh blood marked out the hollow of his eye. The man stepped aside, looking Max up and down.
‘I’m Jamie Wood’s dad. Head injury.’
The receptionist directed him up a flight of stairs. He peered through the wire-enforced glass. Ali sat alone, hunched in one corner of a dim waiting room. He wanted to walk away; he couldn’t face this – he knew the script. As he turned the handle, Ali looked up with her dark smudged eyes, face pale and ragged. Unsteady on her feet, she flung herself at him, burying her head in his chest.
‘He’s in surgery for the gash on his head.’ She drew back from him and pointed to the same spot on her forehead.
‘You never said.’ His heart knocked against his chest.
She guessed its size for him with her thumb and forefinger. ‘They don’t know yet. They don’t know if…’ She slumped back in the seat. Max crouched in front of her, cupping her hands in his, gently jogging them up and down.
‘He’ll be fine, I know he will.’ But as he said it, he hoped he hadn’t somehow unstitched his son’s destiny. It seemed like the right thing to say. He hoped it turned out well. He remembered saying it to Maddy, and her nodding, believing every word. And thankfully Emily had been fine. The brain damage was slight. It meant she was a bit slower at times and susceptible to fits, but she’d been lucky. A few more seconds under water and it would have been a different story.
Ali wiped her face with a crumpled tissue, rocking back and forth. He slipped into the chair next to her and leaned back, his head touching the wall. Perhaps there was no point in worrying if the outcome of their lives had already been decided. His gran had believed a person had little influence over fate. All he knew for certain was that wishing with every cell in his body was never enough.
The door swung open and a nurse in silent black shoes came towards them. She crouched down and took Ali’s hand in hers.
‘Jamie’s out of surgery and he’s responding well.’
‘Thank God.’ Ali covered her eyes and sobbed.
Max put an arm across her back and kissed her wet cheek. He swallowed hard and pressed his lips shut.
The nurse turned to Max. ‘Are you Jamie’s dad? I’m sure you realise, he’s a very lucky boy.’
Max squeezed Ali’s hand. ‘Is he going to have any… lasting effects?’ He pictured himself and Maddy asking the same thing about Emily. He could feel Ali’s eyes flash at him. He guessed she hadn’t wanted to think that far ahead, but they had to know.
‘The doctors think not,’ said the nurse. ‘They’re as sure as they can be at this stage, but the next 24 hours are critical in assessing the outcome of a head injury. All his vital signs are normal, so it’s looking positive.’
After the nurse had gone, Max leaned back in the chair, his arm covering his eyes.
* * *
Two nurses wheeled a bed-sized cot into the space nearest the door of the Children’s Ward. Max and Ali clutched each other’s hands, peering at Jamie tucked under the sheets, most of his head covered in a wide bandage. His sleepy eyes fluttered open then shut again. Max sat in a high-backed chair next to him, while Ali folded the small, bloodstained clothes into a neat pile. A nurse wearing transparent gloves pulled the curtains around the bed.
‘Is it mum staying tonight?’ she asked, pulling a camp bed alongside Jamie’s.
Max glanced at Ali and the
y both nodded. He leaned over the bed and kissed his son’s cheek. He lingered, wanting to inhale the sweet warmth of the boy’s skin, but all he could smell was iodine and bandages.
Max flicked his wrist. He stared at his watch. How could it be 9.40 p.m. already? He rubbed his stomach. The last thing he’d had was that cup of tea. It felt likes days ago. ‘Are you hungry?’
Ali shook her head. The lights dimmed and the ward fell quiet except for their hushed voices.
‘You try and get some sleep,’ he said and moved round the bed towards her. ‘I better be off.’ For a few moments their bodies relaxed into each other.
‘When will you be back?’
‘As soon as I can, I promise.’
Back in his van, Max dragged his hands down his face. It would be easy to fall asleep now, but he wanted to get away from the hospital. He flipped open the glove compartment and pulled out a packet of Rothmans. He knew he should chuck them out of the window; he’d promised Ali he’d kick the habit. He lit one anyway, inhaling long and hard, watching the end pulse and burn as if it was his last. He squashed the remains into the ashtray and lit another. He needed a drink.
The Dog and Duck nearby was packed. A girl elbowed him in the chest as he pushed towards the bar. He knocked back a whiskey and ordered a lager top before last orders. Gripping his glass, he pushed his way outside and sat on a bench, pressing the dull ache in his chest. The waning moon was a mere sliver in the sky. The vast incomprehensible space filled him with awe and reminded him he was an insignificant dot in the whole scheme of things. For a moment, calmness settled on him, but like a sprinkling of unforeseen snow, it soon melted.
Finishing his drink, he checked his phone for messages as he headed to his van. None, good. He climbed into the back and covered himself with his jacket. How long could he keep doing this? It was time to choose between Maddy and Ali. But he loved them both and neither of them deserved to be cheated on. He didn’t know what to do. He shut his eyes. A quick nap, then he had to get home. Home. The word expanded in his mind. His eyes opened again, and he stared into the near darkness. Two squares of streetlight glowed through the windows. The musty smell of dogs and paint filled the air in the hollow space. He wasn’t even sure where home was anymore.
Every Little Secret Page 19