Chaos Theories Collection

by Moody, David

  ‘Missed you too, Dad.’

  ‘I was passing through and I thought I’d drop in on you. Thought I’d surprise you both. That okay?’

  ‘That’s okay,’ she said, grinning.

  ✽✽✽

  Once she’d calmed everyone down and got her head around Jeremy’s sudden arrival, Michelle invited him to stop for dinner, checking with Scott first. She told him she needed to go back into town and pick up something to eat but Scott volunteered to go instead. It was preferable to sitting in the house with Jeremy, making awkward small-talk and watching the kids fawning all over him. Michelle scribbled out a list and gave it to him, cornering him alone in the kitchen. ‘Here you go. And can you get a couple of bottles of wine in and some beer? Something decent, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘You sure you’re all right about this?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘And you’re okay with Jeremy being here?’

  ‘If it helps the kids, I guess.’

  ‘Good. Thanks, love. This means a lot to them. It’s important.’ He turned to leave but she pulled him back. ‘I love you, Scott.’

  20

  Scott drove into town with George. There was a police cordon around the side of the community hall. A small crowd of people had gathered there, mostly school kids, held back at a distance. Scott just kept driving and didn’t even look up. He didn’t know what had happened and he didn’t care. It was nothing to do with him and he wasn’t about to give anyone any reason to think otherwise. Sergeant Ross was in the middle of it all as usual, and he could see that fucker DI Litherland too. Scott was paranoid that one of them would see him driving past and jump to another immediate, baseless, incorrect conclusion.

  He parked outside the Co-op, and it was only when he had his hand on the door to get out that he stopped and realised where he was and what he was doing. This was where that McBride bloke had worked. Did the other people who worked here know who Scott was and what he’d done? For half a second he considered starting the engine again and going somewhere else, but there wasn’t anywhere else and, anyway, why the hell should he? ‘If they’ve got a problem with what happened then I’m happy to talk about it,’ he told George who didn’t understand and who wasn’t listening anyway and who, most importantly, wouldn’t answer back. ‘I’ll happily tell them what that pervert did and why I punched his lights out. They’re wrong about me. They can all go to hell for all I care.’

  He plucked his son from his booster seat, shut and locked the car, then took a trolley (he might have left this trolley here, the bloke who died) and loaded George into the seat facing him. The automatic doors opened as he approached and he disappeared inside, and for a few seconds the familiarity and normality of the bright supermarket interior came as a relief. He worked his way around the fresh produce first, shopping list in hand, remembering all the things Michelle always said whenever he came back with the wrong stuff: check the best before dates, get bananas that are still a little bit green, check all the apples for bruises, don’t automatically pick up every offer you see; that second pack of mince might look cheap, but if we’re never going to eat it you’re actually spending more money, not less... Most of the time he didn’t give a shit, couldn’t bring himself to be so bloody petty, but it was different today. ‘Can’t give Mummy or Jeremy any reason to have a go at Daddy now, can we son?’ he said. George just looked at him.

  For a shitty little store in a shitty little town, the supermarket was reasonably well-stocked. He managed to get most of what they needed, placating George along the way with sweets. He was looking at coffee, trying to remember which brand he liked best, when he felt someone watching him. He looked back over his shoulder, and a woman looked down as soon as he made eye contact. He didn’t recognise her, hadn’t ever seen her before as far as he was aware, so why was she so interested in him? And she definitely was, because when he’d chosen his coffee and crossed the aisle to pick up something else, he caught her staring again. Does she just not like strangers, or is there more to it than that? Does she know what happened with the police? Did she see them taking me into the station? Does she think I’m the killer...?

  George moaned, still hungry. ‘Won’t be long now, sunshine,’ Scott told him. ‘Got to get nice food in for our special guest. Can’t have precious Jeremy thinking we don’t know how to look after ourselves now can we?’

  ‘’kay Daddy.’

  ‘We’re playing happy families tonight, mate.’

  ‘’kay Daddy.’

  Shit. There was another one watching him now. Another fucking busybody watching his every move. One of the women on the tills was giving him evils, looking down her nose at him, almost sneering. Bitch. And now another dozy fucker, a kid who could barely see out from under his bloody floppy fringe, was waiting to get past. Dumb little bastard. Scott was about to say something but he thought better of it. No point, he told himself. You’re better than all of them.

  He swung the trolley around the end of another aisle and almost collided with a family coming the other way. A man and a woman, two kids. The bloke looked shifty. Dodgy hair, even dodgier dress sense. The woman was about half his age and she was looking at Scott, staring at him. What the hell was wrong with all these people? Scott felt like going home, locking the door and never coming out again. He’d make sure he’d kicked Jeremy out first, of course.

  ‘Hello, George,’ the woman said, taking both Scott and his son by surprise. The woman was grinning broadly at Scott. She held out her hand. He just looked at it. ‘You must be Scott,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah...’ he replied, unsure, and he bit his tongue before he could follow it up with and who the fuck are you?

  ‘I’m Jackie,’ she said, still grinning. She waited for an acknowledgement which didn’t come. ‘Michelle’s friend Jackie from playgroup?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry... I’m not with it today. Nice to meet you.’

  ‘This here’s Dez,’ she continued, and Dez grabbed Scott’s hand and shook it vigorously.

  ‘Good t’meet you, pal,’ he said. ‘Heard you’d had a bit of grief lately.’

  Jackie shot daggers at her partner but he remained belligerent.

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘That Graham was a freaky fucker, mind.’

  ‘I noticed.’

  ‘Dez, don’t... not here,’ Jackie said, turning to apologise to Scott. ‘I’m really sorry about him. He doesn’t think.’

  ‘No worries,’ Scott said. ‘He was right anyway. The bloke was a freak.’

  An awkward standoff followed, both sides blocking the other’s way through. Scott wanted to go, Jackie wanted to know more about what had happened but didn’t dare ask. Dez, however, remained completely ignorant. ‘I’ll tell you sumthin’ for nothin’, mate, this town is full of bloody odduns.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Odduns. Weirdos. Freaks.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ Jackie said, embarrassed.

  ‘S’true.’

  ‘Aye, Dezzie, but your definition of a weirdo is different to the rest of us. In your book a weirdo’s just someone who don’t do things your way, and as there ain’t no one else who does things your way, it looks like that’s all the rest of us.’

  Scott managed a wry smile. He quite liked this woman. Nice face, great tits, and she seemed to talk sense. Couldn’t see what she was doing with this prick, though. George moaned again. ‘We should go,’ he said, glad of the excuse.

  ‘Course. Oh, how’s the kitchen coming along?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The hole in your kitchen wall... it’s going to look lovely when you’re done.’

  How the fuck does she know what’s happening in my house? ‘Not had a lot of chance to work on it this week,’ he said, swallowing down his anger. It wasn’t Jackie he was angry with, it was the others. He hated being kept in the dark and being talked about, and he’d have Michelle about it as soon as they got rid of Jeremy.

  ‘Course,’ Jackie sa
id. ‘I should keep my nose out.’

  ‘You probably should.’

  ‘Let’s get on then,’ Dez said, urging Jackie forward.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said, pushing her trolley around the end of Scott’s.

  ‘Aye,’ Dez added, ushering his kids away. ‘See yous around.’

  Scott watched the family walk away. Fucking inbreds... Talk about strangers, are there any stranger round here than that bloke? With his eighties clothes and nineties hair, married to a woman who looked young enough to be his daughter... there was definitely something odd going on there. He was wearing a frigging Dr Who T-shirt, for fuck’s sake, and it was the old Dr Who at that. Wonder where he was the night Graham McBride died? Wonder where he was when the rest of them were killed?

  Scott finished the rest of the shopping quickly, passing the family a couple more times in the next few aisles, the awkwardness increasing each time they met. He waited for an age at the one checkout which was still open. The woman who was serving barely even looked at him. Are you this rude to all your customers, or do you feel the same way about me as I do you? He loaded up his bags and pushed the trolley out to the car, keen to get out and get home until he remembered who was there.

  21

  He felt like he was a guest in someone else’s house, the way they were all fussing over bloody Jeremy. It made him sick. They never treated him like this. All he did for them, and Phoebe and Tammy had barely even looked at him when he got back with the shopping. And Michelle was just as bad, checking Jeremy was comfortable and that he’d got a drink, asking if he wanted to watch TV or use the bathroom before dinner.

  To his credit, Jeremy looked as uneasy as Scott felt. When he saw that Scott was back he immediately got up from his seat and offered him his hand. ‘You okay, Scott?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine. You?’

  ‘Jeremy has been planning to take in the sights and sounds of Thussock,’ Michelle shouted from the kitchen.

  ‘Good luck finding any.’

  ‘Quite a place you’ve found here,’ Jeremy said, grinning broadly. ‘Shame I’ve only got a few days. It’ll never be long enough. So much to see, so much to do...’

  ‘It is a bit like that, isn’t it?’ Scott said, taking a beer from Phoebe who’d brought in a bottle for him and a coffee for her dad. ‘We’ve got a brewery one way, a fracking site just over the hills behind us...’

  ‘The fun never starts,’ Tammy said sarcastically.

  ‘I’d be interested in seeing the fracking site,’ Jeremy continued. He stopped, conscious that the others were looking at him. ‘What? I’m interested, can’t help it. It’s not a million miles removed from my line of work. I’ve been talking to another firm about going into partnership on a project in Yorkshire of all places. Once they’ve sorted out the PR side of things, of course. Have you had any earthquakes yet?’ George waddled into the room. ‘I can’t get over how you’ve grown,’ Jeremy said to him. ‘When I last saw you, you were just a titchy little fella, not a big strapping man like this.’

  Michelle came in from the kitchen and watched Scott from a distance, trying to gauge his reaction as Jeremy interacted with his son. He looked as uncomfortable as she’d expected, but at least he was keeping his temper in check. Conflict between the two men had been an issue in the past, particularly when the girls had been younger. Scott had always accepted that Tammy and Phoebe needed to spend time with their father, but he’d struggled with the realities and practicalities. In fact, it hadn’t been until he’d become a father himself that he’d finally started to understand the emotions and unspoken needs at play.

  ‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ Jeremy said, ducking back out into the hall to fetch a plastic carrier bag. Glass bottles clinked together as he picked it up. He gave a bottle of wine to Michelle (her favourite label... she was touched that he remembered) and handed a bottle of scotch to Scott who seemed genuinely surprised. ‘The best I could find on the way into Thussock, so not great I’m afraid. Supermarket’s own.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Scott said, checking out the label. ‘A malt. You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Nonsense. You’re both being very hospitable and I appreciate it. Understanding too.’

  ‘Want a shot of this in your coffee?’

  ‘No thanks, I’m driving.’

  ‘You could stay here if you wanted a drink,’ Michelle said. Scott bit his tongue and glared at her. ‘We’re out of beds, but the sofa’s pretty comfortable.’

  She might not have picked up on her husband’s unease, but Jeremy did. ‘What, and miss out on staying over at the Black Boy? Hell of a place, your local.’

  ‘Something to do with a sheepdog, isn’t it?’ Scott said. ‘You’d think they’d change the name. I thought twice about going in there for a drink, so fair play to you for spending the night.’

  ‘I haven’t done it yet,’ he laughed. ‘Not a lot of choice around here though.’

  ‘You’re lucky you managed to get a room,’ Michelle said. ‘It’s not the biggest pub.’

  ‘Don’t think that was ever going to be a problem. I think I’m the only guest there right now. And judging by the state of the room they’ve given me, I get the impression I’m the first person they’ve had there in a long time.’

  ‘Can’t say I’m surprised,’ Michelle said. ‘Anyway, the offer’s there. If you feel like getting drunk or decide you can’t stand the thought of the pub, you can bed down here.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m looking at it as an adventure. I’ve stopped in far worse places. At least here we all speak the same language.’

  ‘You reckon?’ Tammy laughed. ‘Have you heard how they talk, Dad? I don’t have a clue what they’re saying half the time. I had to ask a teacher to say the same thing four times today. Made me look like a right idiot.’

  ‘I just keep nodding my head and make the right noises when they pause for breath,’ Michelle admitted.

  ‘So you’re finding the locals a challenge?’

  ‘Everything’s a challenge,’ Tammy answered quickly.

  ‘She’s exaggerating,’ Michelle said. ‘She always exaggerates. The people are fine.’

  ‘Those who are still alive,’ Tammy said under her breath.

  Michelle felt the mood in the room immediately change.

  ‘What did you have to say that for?’

  Tammy shrugged her shoulders then turned to her dad. ‘You’ve heard about Thussock’s little problem, I take it?’

  ‘I’ve heard.’

  ‘And what do you think?’

  Jeremy looked around the room. Michelle was watching him, Scott was glaring at him, Phoebe was chewing her bottom lip anxiously... even George looked unsure.

  ‘I think it’s very sad and very worrying,’ he said. ‘But I also think you’ll all be okay. Scott’s here, and he’s not going to let anything happen to any of you, isn’t that right, Scott?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Another pregnant pause. Awkward. Uncomfortable.

  ‘Right, let’s eat,’ Michelle said, her voice overly enthusiastic. ‘Who’s hungry?’

  ✽✽✽

  Jeremy stayed at the house until almost eleven. The evening was, for the most part, unexpectedly enjoyable and inevitably awkward in equal measure. The girls had gone up to their rooms just after ten, the initial novelty of having their dad around having worn off. He joked that they’d always liked the idea of being with him better than the reality. They made plans for him to pick them up after school tomorrow and spend a little time together.

  Things soured soon after the girls had left. Scott disappeared, leaving Jeremy and Michelle alone in the living room. ‘Weird, isn’t it?’ Jeremy said.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘This. The fact it feels reasonably normal to be sitting here talking like this. We’ve lived apart for years yet it’s like we’ve hardly been out of the room.’

  ‘Suppose. We spent a lot of time together. A lot of good times to start with.’

&nb
sp; ‘I know, but when you think how long it’s been... In some ways you’ve hardly changed, Chelle.’

  ‘Is that meant to be a compliment?’

  ‘I guess,’ he said. Jeremy watched his ex-wife watching him, wondering whether he should stop talking now. He’d had a question on the tip of his tongue all evening. ‘Look, if I’m out of line, tell me to shut up, but are you sure you’re okay?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she answered quickly. ‘Just tired, that’s all. It’s been a tough few months. Mentally and physically.’

  ‘I’m not convinced.’

  ‘Honestly, Jeremy. Look, I hear what you’re saying, but we’ve barely seen each other for years. How do you know I’m not always like this?’

  ‘I hope you’re not. That’d make it even worse.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  He sighed. Did he really want to do this? Then again, could he afford not to? ‘I’ve got a memory of one particular night just before we split up. You probably wouldn’t even remember it. We weren’t fighting or arguing, we were just trying to live together and failing miserably. I remember watching you watching TV and thinking, something’s not right here... but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It’s hard to explain, but looking back I think that’s when I first knew we were in trouble. It was what you weren’t saying that was important, not what you said. There was no connection anymore. The spark had gone out. You looked like you were lost. Remember that tatty old armchair we had? The one Mum gave me? You were sitting on it with your knees pulled up to your chest, watching TV. You looked so small, so vulnerable... I didn’t realise it was me making you feel that way.’

  ‘What point are you making?’

  ‘That you’ve been giving off the same vibes all evening.’

  ‘So maybe it’s having you around again that’s making me feel this way?’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe it is.’

  ‘All due respect, like I said, we’ve hardly seen each other in ages.’

  ‘You’re right. But like I said, if you are usually like this, then that makes me even more worried.’