by Chris Curran
I was grateful he stayed in the kitchen chopping and frying, while she was gone. Billie Holliday was singing something about heartache in a low voice and, instead of sitting, I wandered round the room – an exact replica of mine, but more cluttered and comfortable. A book shelf sagged in one corner and an untidy desk with a wide screen computer and a large printer stood in another.
Most obvious of all were the photographs on the walls. They all featured people: some close ups of individual faces or figures, but also group studies. Most of the pictures were black and white and the faces were interesting rather than attractive. On one wall, there was a small group of old people, and some of what looked like down and outs sitting around fires on waste ground, or standing in shop doorways. Then a larger collection, evidently taken in hospital wards or hospices.
I was looking at them as he came in with cutlery and a bowl of bread. ‘Those are from the book I’m trying to interest a publisher in – no luck so far.’
‘They’re very good.’
‘Thank you, I think so.’ He pointed to a small dark man in a dressing gown sitting on a hospital bed. ‘That’s my dad, just a couple of days before he died. I took that set of pictures in the hospice – wonderful place.’ His finger stroked the frame, then he sighed and turned back to the kitchen.
The food was good and Nic chatted non-stop while she demolished at least a bottle of wine, so it was easy just to sit and smile as I resisted the temptation to have more than a couple of glasses myself. Once or twice Kieran caught my eye and I knew I was blushing, and when we’d finished I collected the dishes, saying I would wash up. It hadn’t been too bad, but all the same I was glad to be alone in the kitchen.
Molly started to grizzle from the bedroom and I heard Nic say, ‘Well that’s it. Better get her to her own bed before she wakes up properly.’ She poked her head into the kitchen, hanging on the door with one leg raised. ‘Bye, Clare, take care.’ Then, laughing, she almost overbalanced, ‘Whoops, did I drink that much?’ Kieran raised his eyebrows at me as he carried Molly through the door.
The sink was still full, there was no way I could leave, but I very much wanted to, not only to avoid being alone with Kieran but because Nicola’s drunken stumble had reminded me of the DVD.
Kieran was back within minutes. ‘I see you’re house-trained,’ he said, taking a tea towel to start drying. I tried to relax and to clear my mind of the image of that other Clare – to drag out some casual remark – but it was impossible and the silence grew heavier as the minutes passed. At last, I was able to drain the sink and dry my hands.
Kieran took my waist and turned me to face him. My skin flared at his touch. ‘Clare,’ he said, ‘I need to tell you something.’
I met his eyes and his expression stopped my breath for a moment. Then I forced a laugh. ‘What?’
He took my hand. ‘Come and sit down.’ I let him lead me to the sofa and, as I took in what he was saying, I slumped back. ‘I know who you are,’ he said. ‘I didn’t at first. Just thought you looked familiar. But it niggled at me and I couldn’t let it go. Must have remembered your face from the papers … ’
As I stood, he caught my elbow. ‘No, Clare, don’t go. I’m sorry, that was clumsy. I just wanted you to know it doesn’t matter.’
I pulled free and turned away, folding my arms across my chest. ‘If it doesn’t matter, why did you say anything?’
‘Because I want to be honest with you. And I’m hoping you can be honest with me.’
I walked over to the window, gripping the sill until my fingers hurt. The darkening sky was streaked with orange and purple. I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. What a fool I’d been to think I could try to fit in with normal people again. ‘So you know I’m a criminal and an ex-junkie? Then how can you want anything to do with me?’
His voice was soft. ‘Because that’s not you. Maybe if I hadn’t got to know you first I would have … ’
‘Would have what?’
‘Well, made assumptions about the kind of person you might be, I suppose, but I’ve seen what you’re like and … ’
I cut him off. ‘Have you told Nicola?’
‘Of course not. Oh, Clare.’ He was behind me now and I turned to face him. His voice was thick. ‘It’s come out all wrong. I’m not going to tell anyone, and I won’t mention it again if that’s what you want. But I thought maybe you’d be glad I know, and that it doesn’t make any difference to me.’
I knew I should stop this now. Go down to that dreary flat and, tomorrow, find somewhere else to live. Instead, I stared at his white shirt, at the place under his shoulder where I longed to rest my head.
He was still talking. ‘I realise this isn’t the best time for you to start seeing someone, but I like you very much. We don’t need to rush into anything, but … ’
I was suddenly too tired to hold out any longer and, when I leaned into his arms, his shoulder was as comforting as I knew it would be.
Kieran held me, saying nothing. But I could feel his heart beating faster and my own drumming urgently, too. Before it was too late, I pushed myself away and went to sit on the sofa. Kieran held my hand in both of his and I found myself telling him everything. It felt wonderful, talking to someone who had no connection with any of it and who, for some reason I knew, I could trust not to judge me.
‘But I need to think about Tom and only Tom. I can’t let myself get too close to anyone else.’
He laid his warm hand on my knee and I was just able to stop myself leaning into his arms again. ‘I understand that, Clare.’
‘I should go down.’
He came to the door with me and kissed me very gently. ‘It’s not my place to tell you how to deal with your son, but I was a thirteen-year-old boy once and I think you can trust him to understand. Whatever the truth turns out to be.’
My bruises, and the thought of what had happened with Kieran, kept me from sleeping well, but I couldn’t be unhappy because I was going to spend the whole next day with Tom. I got up before seven and made some coffee and toast to eat as I watched the TV news.
I was still aching, so I ran a bath and soaked in it for a long while. The warm water was soothing and I let my mind play with fantasies of my future with Tom. The little house we would live in, how I would let him decorate his own bedroom and have his friends over. But when I started to visualise the garden, big enough for him to kick a ball about, but with space for me to grow some vegetables, I stopped. Oh Steve! We always joked that if any of his clients ever saw our own garden they’d be horrified because he never had time to tend it.
And I saw him handing me a glass of wine as we sat, amid the scrubby grass, in two old deckchairs I’d found in the shed when we first moved there. The twins were babies, asleep in their pram next to us and Steve was looking at me, head to one side, his grey eyes crinkling at the corners.
‘What?’ I said.
‘Just that you’re gorgeous and so are our sons.’ Then he leaned over and kissed me, his hands twined into my hair.
I could almost feel his fingers on my scalp as I lay back in the bath and he seemed closer than he had for so many years. The tears were hot on my cheeks and I pressed my hand to where my heart must be – where the pain throbbed white-hot. One enormous sob burst from me with such force it sounded more like the cry of a wounded animal. It frightened me and I moved my fingers to my mouth, holding it shut so it wouldn’t make that noise again.
And, slowly, slowly, the pain began to ease. Steve was gone, but I knew he would want Tom to be with me. For us to make a new life together.
I was in my dressing gown, a towel wrapped round my hair, when I heard the tap on my door. It was too early for Tom and Alice, and no one had buzzed the main door, so it could only be Kieran or Nic.
I wiped the steam from the mirror. My face was blotchy from the hot bath, and for a moment I hesitated. But I couldn’t worry about that. I didn’t want Kieran to be here when Alice and Tom arrived.
When I open
ed the door, the ground shifted beneath me.
Two uniforms filled the space: a young fresh-faced policeman and a bulky WPC, a spit for one of the worst screws on my last block in prison. I swayed and clutched the dressing gown around me, very conscious of my naked legs and feet. A million thoughts, all of them horrible, fought with each other in my head. They’d come to arrest me, to take me back to prison. Or worse, it was something to do with Tom. Oh God Tom was hurt.
‘Mrs Glazier?’
I managed to nod, dislodging the towel on my head, so it flapped over one eye.
‘We’re here about your accident.’
‘What?’ I pushed the towel back, goggling at him helplessly, until I saw the woman’s eyes on my legs, taking in the bruises. ‘Oh you mean the other night? It was nothing, my fault. I didn’t look.’ I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop. ‘I didn’t report it.’
The young man looked at me, and I squirmed again, aware of my naked body under the thin covering. He flipped open a notepad. ‘We’ve had a report, apparently from you.’
‘No, no it wasn’t me. I’m sorry. There’s been a mistake.’
The woman spoke, now, more kindly. ‘They do speed down that road and if you were hit, we really should look into it. Don’t forget, there’s kiddies live round here.’
‘Yes, but it was my fault and I don’t want to take it any further. I’m sorry.’
The man closed the pad with a click, and moved his hand to the radio on his shoulder. ‘Well, if you’re sure, Mrs Glazier …’
They glanced at each other, as if considering saying more, but then the woman shrugged and they turned away. I closed the door, shaking and weak, waiting for what seemed an age until I finally heard the front door open and close and watched them stride off down the path.
I dressed quickly, half-fearing they would come back, my bruises throbbing with renewed viciousness. Then knocked on Nic’s door.
‘Hi there, babe,’ she said. ‘Come in and have a cuppa.’
I made an effort to keep my voice even. ‘Sorry, I can’t stop, I’m expecting visitors. But I’ve just had the police here about my accident. You didn’t call them, did you?’
‘Not me, babe, wouldn’t go sticking my nose in like that. I let them in, that’s all. Went to the front door to collect Kieran’s paper before the boy shoved it through the letter box. Molly’s asleep and it makes such a racket it always wakes her up. The cops were coming up the path so I held the main door open for them. When they said they wanted to speak to you I guessed it was about the accident. Thought you’d called them. Have you asked Kieran if it was him?’
It was the last thing I wanted to do, but she held out a plastic bag with the Observer inside. ‘You can give this to him while you’re up there.’
I couldn’t think of a way to refuse and she watched as I started up the stairs. ‘Thanks, Nic, sorry to have bothered you,’ I said, but she stayed where she was, smiling and leaning on the side of her door.
I was almost relieved when there was no answer from Kieran and I left the paper outside his flat. When I came down Nic was gone, but I heard my own phone ringing. I ran inside and grabbed the handset without looking at the caller id. ‘Alice?’
‘No sweetheart, it’s me, Lorna.’
I took a breath. ‘Hello.’
‘I’ve been thinking hard about your email, doing some heart-searching, and I’ve decided there’s something I have to tell you.’
‘What?’
‘I can’t talk about it on the phone. My knee’s very bad, so could you come and see me? I’m having the op this week – what about visiting me in hospital?’
‘All right, I’ll do that of course. But surely you can tell me whatever it is now. Is it about the arthritis drug situation?’
‘No, but … ’
‘Lorna, please.’
‘Well there was more to that than I said, although I don’t think it could possibly have any bearing on what happened to you.’
I sat on the sofa, softening my voice. ‘I’d like to know anyway because it’s what Tom seems to have focused on.’
There was silence for a moment, then she said, ‘I’m sorry to say this about Dr Penrose, when he’s dead and can’t defend himself, but he was incompetent and always making mistakes. Your father sacked him and that’s why he was so determined to get his revenge. They could never be sure about it, but the mistakes with the data were probably his errors.’
‘So there were mistakes.’
‘Your father thought so, yes. But that didn’t mean the pills were dangerous.’
I let that go. ‘What about Mr Gardner, the families’ rep? What do you know about him?’
‘Well, he and your dad reached some kind of agreement and he went away very happily, if I can put it like that.’
‘Dad bribed him you mean.’
‘I honestly don’t know, but there was a lot of bad feeling from some of the other families. Mr Gardner had apparently persuaded them to settle and later they began to think they could have got much more.’
‘So Tom’s theory does have legs. There were plenty of people who were angry with Dad. And I don’t blame them.’
‘They were mainly upset with Mr Gardner, not your father. And Robert was only following his lawyer’s advice and doing what was best for the company.’
‘And for himself.’
Her voice was cool. ‘For his family too, Clare. As he always did. And you weren’t there so you can’t understand the kind of stress he was under. There was an enormous amount of bad feeling in the firm. And it was just about the time when the Americans were trying to take us over. People were in fear for their jobs. Rightly so as it turned out.’
‘You said Dad was close to Matt, but were there problems between them at that time?’
‘If there were I didn’t know about them. To be honest, I was wrapped up in my own worries. Robert and I were no longer that close and, in any case, he had never confided in me about work issues that didn’t concern my job.’
We were silent for a while and her voice was gruff when she spoke again. ‘But that’s not what I need to tell you. It’s something much more important.’
A thump inside. ‘What is it?’
‘Clare, I really can’t, not on the phone. Please come and see me. I’m having the op on Tuesday, so any day from Wednesday onwards.’
‘Give me the address, then, and I’ll come on Thursday.’
I put down the phone knowing it would be agony to wait because I was sure she was going to answer one of my most urgent questions: who I got the amphetamines from.
*
Alice was laughing as she and Tom came into the flat. ‘I hope you’re prepared. He says you’re going to let him choose whatever he wants to do and he’s already wearing his swimming trunks.’
He was in a white T-shirt and long blue cotton shorts and looked taller today, dumping his rucksack on the sofa as he made his way into the kitchen and threw open the fridge. ‘Oh good, you got some cokes.’
I swallowed and bit my lip. He was beginning to treat the flat as his home.
Alice pulled me back into the hall. ‘You sure you’re OK? You don’t look all that well to me. I could hang around for a bit if you like.’ When I told her I was fine, she said, ‘Have you got a swimsuit?’
‘No, but it’s only five minutes to the shops. We can go there first.’
She smiled. ‘Just as well I thought of it then.’ She opened her large handbag and pulled out a plastic carrier. ‘Got you this at the supermarket yesterday, just a cheap thing, but it’ll do for today.’
For some reason I wanted to cry. ‘Oh, thank you.’
She waved her hand in front of her face, her eyes glistening. ‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘I just grabbed it when I was shopping.’
I put my arms round her and for a moment we stood like that. She smelled lovely: of clean hair and warm skin with just a hint of floral perfume. And I whispered the words I should have said so many times before. ‘Thank y
ou, Alice, for everything.’
She stroked my hair then pulled away. ‘Well, if you want to make me happy, go and have a lovely day with your son. You both deserve it.’
I couldn’t meet her eyes, shaken by my own rush of emotions. It seemed as if something really was thawing inside and I didn’t know whether to be glad or frightened. I managed to ask what she was planning for her own day. ‘Lunch with Gareth.’ She laughed and gave my arm a little push. ‘And before you say it, we’re still not serious.’
When she’d gone, I went to the bedroom and slipped on the swimsuit, covering up again before I could get anxious about the bruises on my legs.
Tom was on the sofa and when I sat beside him he gulped down the rest of his drink and began poking in the side pocket of his rucksack. ‘I’ve got some questions you could ask Jacob Downes and Mr Hillier.’
‘That’s great, but what say we look at them on the beach? The weather’s set to cloud over later on and we don’t want to waste the sunshine.’ When he looked sideways at me, his mouth turned down, eyebrows pulled together, I added, ‘Besides, there’s something I want to tell you first. Something I just heard about from Lorna. We can talk as we walk down.’
As we stepped through the main door, Tom stopped to retie his laces, and Nic opened her kitchen window. Her eyes moved from him to me, then to the towel under my arm. ‘Off to the beach, Clare?’
I smiled, she’d obviously been on the lookout since Alice and Tom arrived. ‘While the sun lasts. This is my son, Tom, by the way.’
If she was surprised she hid it well. ‘Hello there, Tom, I’m Nicola, Nic.’
Tom gave her a little wave and outside the gate he turned to me, his eyes sharp with interest. ‘What did Lorna tell you, then?’
I explained that Lorna thought it was possible that Dr Penrose himself had been responsible for any mistakes in the report. ‘Your granddad had to sack him, so that was probably why he wanted to cause trouble.’
‘But didn’t Granddad tell anyone about the mistakes?’
A vision of my dad smiling as we sat in the garden of Beldon House one weekend, watching the twins playing with the miniature cricket bats he’d bought them. He wasn’t one to show emotion, but I remembered him rubbing my shoulder and saying, ‘They’re great lads, Clare.’ He really loved them and they had adored him.