Every Touch

by Parke, Nerika

  Eventually, Trish brought up one last photo on her laptop.

  “This is the last one I have of him,” she said, gazing at it.

  He was leaning against a brick wall, Jay standing next to him. Both of them were laughing and Denny was making bunny ears behind Jay’s head.

  “I took it at the park near his flat, I suppose you know it. We were having a picnic, the three of us. It was such a fun day.” She sighed and her voice became quiet. “A week later, he was gone.”

  Laila looked at her and saw tears rolling down her face. Her own eyes brimmed with moisture. Without thinking twice, she reached out and took her hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said, wiping at her eyes with her free hand.

  Trish sniffed. “It’s been almost five years and I still miss him so much,” she said. She squeezed Laila’s hand. “Thank you for giving me the chance to remember what a wonderful person he was. I’m glad you will be writing about him.” She looked at Laila and smiled.

  Laila’s heart was breaking. The urge to tell Trish about Denny was so strong she had to clamp her jaw shut to stop herself. Instead, she just nodded and said, “Me too.”

  If the ritual worked, Trish would see her brother again. If it didn’t, she didn’t need to lose him a second time. But it would work. Laila had to keep hold of that hope.

  She needed to get what she came for.

  “Do you have anything personal of Denny’s? Something I could include a picture of, that was important to him? Maybe something with a story.”

  Trish thought for a moment, then smiled. “I have the perfect thing. I’ll be right back.”

  Laila went back to looking at the photos as Trish went upstairs.

  “Oh, you’re still here.”

  She turned at the voice to see Jay standing in the doorway.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling, “I’m Laila. I’m writing an article about your uncle. Your mum has been showing me photos and telling me all about him.” She turned the screen so he could see the photo of him with Denny.

  Jay walked over and sat down, looking at it. “That’s cool. I remember that day,” he said, pointing at the screen. “We were playing football while mum was putting out the food and I kicked the ball and it almost landed in the salad. She was really annoyed, but Denny said he was the one who’d kicked it and then he made her laugh so she wasn’t angry anymore. He always did stuff like that. He was the best uncle.”

  “He sounds like it,” she said.

  “I miss him,” he said quietly. He stared at the photo for a little while, then he looked back at Laila. “You’re hot,” he said. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Aren’t I a little old for you?” she smiled.

  He shrugged. “Maybe now, but in four years I’ll be eighteen and you might want a ripped younger man.”

  He waggled his eyebrows and Laila burst into laughter. “I’ll let you know in four years,” she said.

  He nodded. “Fair enough.”

  At that moment Trish walked back into the room. “Jay,” she said, “stop making passes at our guest. Please excuse my son,” she said to Laila, “he’s fourteen going on thirty.”

  Jay stood so his mother could sit back down, taking advantage of her turned back to wink at Laila. She smiled at him and he grinned as he headed to the kitchen.

  Trish shook her head, smiling. “He’s got Denny’s self-confidence as well as his looks. He already seems to be with a new girl every week. I sometimes wish Denny was still here to guide him. He’s close to his father, but he always looked up so much to Denny. He would listen to him more.” She sighed. “Anyway, how is this?”

  She placed two small wooden boxes onto the table and opened them. Denny had told Laila the story of the Christmas boxes, but she listened as if it was the first time she’d heard it as Trish relayed the tale. She took photos of the two boxes and their contents, smiling at the sweet note ten-year-old Denny had written to his sister and put in the box with the set of pink hairclips he’d bought her, telling her how he was glad she was his sister because she was fun and stood up for him when he got into trouble at school. It was so Denny. It was perfect.

  As Laila folded the note back up and replaced it in the box, she heard the front door open and close.

  “That’s my husband,” Trish said, then called, “John, come in here.”

  A tall, good looking man with dark blond hair and strong features walked through the door.

  “Honey, this is Laila Smith,” Trish said. “She’s writing an article about Denny.”

  Laila stood and held out her hand. John took it in a strong handshake.

  “About Denny?” he said, smiling.

  “I’ve been boring her with photos and endless stories,” Trish said, slipping her arm around her husband’s waist.

  “Oh, no,” Laila said, “I loved hearing all of it. I really feel like I know Denny now.”

  Trish smiled. “I wish you’d got a chance to meet him. He would have liked you.”

  Laila’s heart ached. She liked Trish a lot. She liked the whole family. She hoped that one day they would be able to forgive her for the lies. And for what she had to do.

  “I really should be going,” she said, “but could I get a shot of the three of you together?”

  “Of course,” Trish said.

  After they posed in front of the group of photos hanging on the wall, so that Denny’s face was in the picture with them, Trish walked her to the door.

  “Thank you,” Laila said, “for all your time and help.”

  “This is going to sound weird,” Trish said, “but I feel like I know you somehow. I don’t know what it is, but you just seem... familiar.” She smiled and shrugged. “I suppose it’s just one of those things.”

  Laila smiled. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Let me know when you’re finished with the article?”

  “Of course. I won’t do anything with it until you’re happy.”

  Laila was beginning to hate the way the lies were coming so easily now. When they’d said their goodbyes and she was driving away, she couldn’t help but feel that, whatever happened, Trish would hate her for the rest of her life.

  ***

  Denny had been waiting in the lobby for almost the whole time since Laila left to visit Trish. He was too anxious to do anything else. He hadn’t expected it to take so long, but he told himself that must be a good thing. If she’d come back quickly, it would mean Trish hadn’t believed her.

  When he finally saw her car drive by and then pull into the car park at the side of the building, he breathed a sigh of relief. Thirty seconds later she walked up the steps to the door and he opened it, smiling when she held up her hand as she walked in.

  Taking it, he kissed her palm and her answering smile lit up the lobby.

  “I know I was a long time,” she said as they rode up in the lift. “Trish really seemed to want to talk about you. You were an adorable baby, by the way.”

  “Oh no, tell me she didn’t,” he said, drawing a question mark into her palm.

  “Photo albums,” she said, “lots of them. And the stories your sister had to tell about you...”

  She laughed when Denny dropped his head onto her shoulder. “I should have known Trish would do that,” he said, smiling.

  “I recorded everything,” Laila said. “I thought you’d want to hear it.”

  His sister’s voice. He did want to hear her again, even if she was telling embarrassing stories about him. He tapped Laila’s wrist as they stepped from the lift and went into the flat.

  “And I got this.”

  She took out her phone and held it up for him to see. The screen showed a picture of Trish, John and Jay together. His family. He took the phone and stood gazing at it for a while, feeling the ache of missing them all over again.

  “I like Trish a lot,” Laila said. “I think we could be friends. If she ever forgives me for what I have to do.”

  He put one arm around her, tugging her to him
and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He hated that she had to do all this alone and he couldn’t do anything to help.

  “She still has the box. Hers too. And the concrete hedgehog is where you said it would be. It will work.”

  “It will,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

  “Oh, and your nephew hit on me.”

  He paused at that and then grinned. “Way to go, Jay.”

  “You Carpenter men certainly do have a way with the ladies,” she said. “I don’t know, give him a few years and I may be taking him up on his offer.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t believe I have competition from my fourteen-year-old nephew.”

  Picking her up, he spun her around as she laughed, then lowered her to her back on the sofa and kissed her, both in thanks for what she had done and to emphasize that he was the only Carpenter man for her. She wound her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth and he deepened the kiss until nephews and families and rituals and embarrassing baby pictures were temporarily forgotten.

  Eventually, Laila uploaded the audio file she had recorded with Trish onto Denny’s laptop and they curled around each other, spending the next couple of hours listening to Trish’s stories and laughing together.

  Thirty-Seven

  A few days later, Laila was sitting in her car along the road from Trish’s house again, waiting. The number of times she had done this was beginning to make her feel like a bona fide stalker.

  “Please let this be the last time,” she muttered, “before the neighbours start noticing and calling the police.”

  She saw the front door of the house open and shuffled down in her seat, peering through the steering wheel. After a few seconds, John came out, climbed into his car at the end of the driveway and pulled away.

  One down, two to go.

  After another fifteen minutes or so, during which time Laila began to wish she’d given her morning coffee a miss, the door opened again and Jay emerged, followed by Trish. Both climbed into Trish’s car, which she backed out of the driveway and drove away.

  Laila stayed where she was for another five minutes, then checked up and down the road for anyone who might be watching. There was no-one about.

  “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, “this is it. I can do this.”

  Getting out of the car, she took one last look around then crossed the road and walked along the pavement towards the house. She had almost gone past when she suddenly changed direction onto the driveway and jogged to the side of the house, getting through the wrought iron gate into the back garden and out of view of the road as fast as she could.

  Her intention had been to look as nonchalant as possible. She was fairly sure she couldn’t have look more suspicious if she’d tried. Her only hope was that no-one had seen her and to get in and out as quickly as possible.

  Moving round to the back of the house, she found the concrete hedgehog garden ornament by the patio doors and lifted it up, mentally crossing her fingers.

  “Yes,” she whispered, taking the key from underneath and straightening.

  Thank goodness for the hard dying of old habits.

  She took the key to the kitchen door and hesitated. What if the house wasn’t empty? What if they had a guest she didn’t know about? She considered going back to the front door and knocking, but then she’d be in full view of the neighbours again and double her chances of being seen.

  Placing the key in the back door lock, she turned it carefully, deciding to search the house quickly and quietly before getting what she came for. Opening the door, her heart pounding, she crept inside.

  She did a rapid sweep of the ground floor, tiptoeing as silently as possible and only getting delayed for a few seconds as she gazed at Denny’s photo on the living room wall again.

  Not now, she thought. If I get this right, I’ll be able to gaze at the real thing. The thought made her smile as she quietly made her way up the stairs.

  The first two rooms she checked were bedrooms, the smallest looking like a spare and the next obviously Jay’s. Both were thankfully empty and neither was what she was looking for. Next was a bathroom, then a small study. Finally, she found the master bedroom. If the boxes were anywhere, they would be here. Somewhere.

  She looked around. The small hope she had that they would be in full view on a shelf somewhere vanished as she scanned the room. She would need to search.

  Careful to keep away from the window, she began opening drawers.

  Guilt gnawed at her as she hunted. This wasn’t like her at all. Even as a child she’d valued her privacy, and other people’s, so poking through the belongings of people she barely knew went against every fibre of her being. Trying not to notice what she was looking at, she tuned her mind into seeing square, wooden objects.

  The sound of a car door slamming outside made her freeze. Probably just a neighbour, she told herself, nothing to worry about at all. She crept to the window, just to reassure herself she absolutely didn’t need to freak out.

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach when she saw Trish’s car in the driveway.

  Downstairs, the front door opened and closed. Footsteps thumped on the stairs.

  Laila looked around frantically. She lifted the valence on the bed, but it was a divan. There would be no hiding in the two inches between it and the floor.

  Her eyes went to a door, slightly ajar, opposite the door to the landing. She spotted the edge of a bath.

  At that moment, the footsteps reached the top of the stairs. Laila dropped onto her front on the floor beside the bed, hoping whoever it was didn’t come in and almost crying in relief when she heard them walking away.

  Peering over the bed to make sure there was no-one in sight, she crawled to the bathroom and pushed the door to behind her.

  It was then that she heard a voice.

  “I can’t see it.”

  It was Trish.

  “No, it’s not on your bed... well, when did you last have it?... come on, Jay, I’m late already... which drawer, no wait, found it... I’ll drop it off at reception... I love you too... see you this afternoon... no, I won’t forget... bye.”

  Footsteps sounded on the landing again. Please go back downstairs, Laila silently pleaded from the master bedroom’s en-suite bathroom. It didn’t work.

  Laila shrank back from the door as she heard Trish walk into the bedroom. She held her breath, her heart thudding so hard in her chest she thought it would give her away for sure.

  “Damn where is it?”

  Laila listened to Trish rummaging around in a drawer she herself was probably searching through minutes earlier. The rummaging stopped.

  “Did I leave it in the bathroom?”

  Laila’s eyes widened in horror. She looked around for somewhere to hide in the tiny room. There was none.

  Feet padded across the carpet, coming closer. Laila pressed herself against the wall behind the door as it began to open. She was moments away from discovery.

  “Oh no, wait...”

  The door stopped.

  “I know where I left it.”

  Footsteps moved away again and a few seconds later Laila heard them descending the stairs.

  She breathed out.

  After another minute or so, the front door opened and closed. Laila inched to the window and looked out over the driveway, seeing Trish getting into her car and pulling away.

  “I am not cut out for this,” she said, placing her hand over her racing heart and trying to slow her breathing.

  Looking around again, her gaze fell on the built-in wardrobes. She opened a door, but it was just hanging clothes. Behind the next door were shelves and on the third one up, towards the back, sat Denny and Trish’s two Christmas boxes.

  Relieved beyond all reason, Laila picked them both up and closed the door. With a last look outside, she went back downstairs and out the kitchen door, remembering to replace the key under the hedgehog, making it back to her car without incident.


  ***

  When Laila got back to the flat, she was greeted with the sound of creaking, hammering and some mild cracking. Leaving the boxes in her bag on the kitchen island, she wandered through to the bedroom.

  The chest of drawers had been moved to the other side of the room and the bed was also closer to the window. A hammer, chisel and screwdriver lay on the floor while a crowbar hovered in the air. One of the floorboards was buckled and chipped.

  Denny’s laptop sat on the floor next to it, a paused YouTube video on the screen.

  “Um...” she said.

  The crowbar dropped to the floor.

  Laila walked to where she knew Denny had to be, reaching out and encountering him kneeling on the floor, his shoulders hunched, head down. She lowered to the floor behind him and slid her arms around his waist, laying her head against his back.

  “You have many other wonderful qualities that don’t involve home maintenance,” she said.

  His back began to quiver as he laughed.

  He took her left hand and kissed it, then pulled the laptop closer to them, bringing up a blank page.

  [I couldn’t just sit doing nothing while you were out. I was so worried. How did it go?]

  “Smooth as clockwork, more or less. I got them.”

  [You’re amazing]

  She smiled when she felt him kiss her cheek.

  [This looked so easy on the video. They don’t explain what to do when the floorboard seems to be superglued down. I don’t think I have the DIY gene.]