by Moody, David
‘You went into the back of me and I was stationary, so there’s no argument really.’
‘I know. Sorry,’ he said, sounding unexpectedly docile.
‘I’ll take some pictures with my phone, okay? Doesn’t look like there’s a lot of damage to either car. We can swap insurance details in the morning if it’s easier. It’s not like we don’t know where the other driver lives.’
Tom stared at Mercer who just nodded his head. His apparent lack of concern was infuriating. You cantankerous old bastard, Tom thought, that was completely your fault. I’d be well within my rights to go absolutely fucking mental if I wanted to.
‘Sorry... don’t know what happened.’
‘Have you been drinking, Mr Mercer?’
‘No. Haven’t touched a drop.’
‘You sure?’ he asked.
Mercer mumbled something unintelligible.
Tom sniffed at the air. He couldn’t smell booze. ‘Maybe you’d better go home. I’ll call around and see you tomorrow and we can sort everything out. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ the older man said, and with that Tom stepped back out of his way.
He watched as Mercer tried to turn the car around in the mouth of the junction. He stalled, then restarted the engine, bumped up the kerb, then drove back up the hill towards home.
Wish you’d been as agreeable as that when I pruned your bloody tree, Tom thought, remembering the battles they’d had. The two of them had almost come to blows over his Laburnum. Mercer had been like a Rottweiler, going for the jugular before Tom had even had chance to explain.
✽✽✽
Tom finally reached Siobhan’s flat. The street was quiet. The calm before the storm? He had a key, but he didn’t want to presume. He rang the buzzer and waited. And waited. Was she ignoring him? He was on the verge of trying to phone her again when she answered. Her tinny voice crackled through the loudspeaker. ‘Hello.’
‘Siobhan, it’s me. Can I come in? I need to talk to you.’
Nothing. He was about to ring again when the door clicked open.
The door to Siobhan’s flat was slightly ajar and he went inside. There were no lights on, and the only illumination came from the TV in the corner. Siobhan sat opposite the flickering screen, still dressed in her work suit. Tom waited at the door, not sure if he should go any further until she’d acknowledged him. He looked into her face, her perfect features picked out by the constantly changing light.
He cleared his throat. ‘There’s nothing going on between me and Clare, you know,’ he said before adding, ‘if that’s what you were thinking.’ He continued to watch her anxiously, desperate for a reaction. He thought she nodded slightly – or was it just the light? The movement was so slight he thought he might have imagined it.
Then she spoke. ‘I know.’
He walked further into the room and crouched down in front of her, kicking away food wrappers and moving an empty mug. Almost afraid of what her reaction might be, he took hold of her hand. It remained limp at first, but then her fingers slowly moved, her grip tightening around his own.
‘I love you, you know,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, I didn’t mean to. You’re the only one for me, do you know that?’
This time her movement was more definite. She turned away from the TV and looked straight at him. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘So what was that all about on the phone?’
‘I don’t feel too good.’
‘What’s wrong? Something you’ve eaten? Have you had any dinner today?’
‘Not yet.’
‘So what’s up?’ He felt her head for a temperature. ‘Do you have a headache?’
She nodded. ‘Had it all day.’
‘Want me to make you something?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Do you want to go out?’
‘Want to stay here.’
‘Shall I run you a bath?’
‘That’d be good. Thanks.’
‘Are you going to be okay?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘If you’re still like this in the morning, maybe you should see the doctor.’
‘I think I will.’
Tom stood up and went through to the bathroom where he closed the blind and started her bath running. He returned to the living room and switched on the light. Siobhan flinched at the sudden brightness. He watched her closely, concerned by her apparent lethargy.
‘That too bright?’
‘It’s okay,’ she replied, squinting.
Tom looked around. ‘Bloody hell, this place is a tip,’ he said, instinctively picking more stuff up off the floor.
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise to me, sweetheart, it’s your flat.’
She smiled briefly, and sat up in her seat. Tom closed the curtains then fetched her a drink. She took it from him and managed a couple of sips before putting it down again. She took off her jacket and unbuttoned the front of her blouse, then moved towards Tom. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.
‘Sorry,’ she said again.
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Talk about what?’ she asked, her face still buried in his chest.
‘Whatever it is that’s going on. Whatever it was you thought I’d done. I just don’t want there to be any problems between us. You’re all that matters to me.’
‘I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,’ she said, kicking off the rest of her clothes as she disappeared into the bathroom.
‘But to accuse me of—’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, and Tom sensed he should end the conversation. He watched her as she turned off the tap, checked the temperature of the water, then slid slowly into the bath, stark naked and completely uninhibited. He watched for a moment longer, catching glimpses of her under the water, intermittently hidden by patches of bubbles.
‘You sure you’re okay?’
She nodded and smiled. ‘Hungry.’
He went through to the small kitchen, pausing only to pick up her clothes and lay them on the end of the bed.
‘Tom,’ she shouted to him, ‘could you turn the TV up please?’
25
Tom spent the night with Siobhan. She was quiet all evening, and was asleep virtually the moment her head hit the pillow, but Tom lay awake for hours, staring at her in the darkness. What had happened between the two of them earlier concerned him. If he’d given her the wrong impression or made her doubt his feelings towards her, then he needed to know. He couldn’t afford to let it happen again. He couldn’t risk losing Siobhan. He blamed himself. I’m spending too much time alone. I’m on the outside of everything else. Have to start making more of an effort.
He woke briefly when she got up and left for work. He lay in bed and watched her dress and get ready in the half-light of morning. She stood opposite him and brushed her hair in the mirror on the wall, then put on a little make-up, not as much as usual. She left without eating breakfast or even drinking anything.
‘You all right?’ he asked as she pulled on her coat, about to leave.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied.
‘Will I see you tonight?’
‘Okay.’
She opened the door. He called her back. ‘Wait, is that it? Don’t I even get a kiss?’ She smiled, walked back to the bed, then leant down and kissed him.
‘See you later,’ she said.
Siobhan had been gone for some time when Tom finally got up, got dressed, and left the flat. The light outside had the cold blue-white sheen of early morning and the air was cool and still. It was unexpectedly quiet as he drove home, and the house too was empty. Rob and Jall had gone. Remembering that his cupboards were bare, before taking off his coat and boots and settling down he walked into the village to re-stock.
The normality of the day-to-day unfolded all around Tom. People went about their daily routines, literally side-stepping him as he ambled down the footpath, everyone else keen to get
past and get on with their lives. He didn’t miss work at all but he couldn’t help feeling a real disconnection this morning. It felt almost as if everyone else had a reason – a right, almost – to be there but him. Even the school kids, who crowded into the supermarket to fill up on chocolate and junk food for the day, looked at him as if he shouldn’t have been getting in their way. He stood in front of a chiller cabinet, taking his time to choose something decent to cook for Siobhan later. Someone reached past him to take something from the display, then Mrs Grayson asked him to move the other way so she could replenish the stock. He could almost feel their eyes burning into the back of him. Look at that lazy bastard, they were all saying. He does nothing all day, every day. Self-conscious, he picked up some steak – Siobhan’s favourite – and moved on.
Is it me? Am I pushing everyone that matters away?
Mrs Grayson was back at the kiosk when he was ready to pay. He tried to make small-talk, not wanting to say anything but doing his best to be pleasant all the same.
Tom walked up the hill towards home, the handles of the plastic carrier bags digging into his hands. He stopped when he drew level with Ray Mercer’s house, his heart sinking when he remembered he’d have to speak to the odious old bastard about the crash last night. Maybe he could put it off until tomorrow...
It was only when he walked a little further that he noticed Mercer’s garage door was wide open. His car was parked inside. And was that Mercer sitting in the front seat? He was probably off out somewhere, Tom decided, but to all intents and purposes the strange old bugger looked like he hadn’t moved since last night.
26
Siobhan left work early, feeling unwell. Tom forced himself out for a short run and didn’t find out until he found a message on his phone when he got back. Siobhan’s flat was closer to the office than Tom’s house, so Mona had dropped her home. Tom showered and changed, then grabbed a few things and drove straight over. He found Siobhan in bed, already asleep. She woke up a while later, the smell of cooking and the noise of Tom in the kitchen disturbing her. She sat up in bed, bleary-eyed.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Not long. I got your message. Let myself in and made you some dinner. Is that okay?’
‘Not that hungry.’
‘You feeling sick again?’
‘Not sick, just tired. Been overdoing it, that’s all.’
‘I’m cooking steak,’ he said, returning to the kitchen. ‘It’s your favourite. Will you at least try and eat something?’
She nodded and waited for him to bring her food over. She poked and prodded at it and managed to swallow a few mouthfuls. He sat in a chair and ate, his appetite slightly reduced by gnawing nervousness and concern for Siobhan.
‘I’m really worried about you,’ he said.
‘Don’t be. I’m fine.’
‘You don’t seem fine. This isn’t like you.’
‘Seriously, I just need some sleep. Stop fussing.’
‘I’m not fussing. I care about you. I get worried when—’
‘I’m fine,’ she said again, her voice louder, bordering on angry. ‘Stop it.’
‘Okay. If that’s what you want.’
Tom’s phone rang. He glanced at it and then put it back in his pocket.
‘Not going to answer it?’
‘No.’
‘Who was it.’
‘No one.’
‘So no one phoned. That’s weird. Tell me, who was it?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay, it was Clare.’
‘I might have known. What did she want?’
‘How am I supposed to know? I didn’t bloody answer it, did I? Don’t start accusing me of—’
‘I’m not accusing you of anything.’
‘Not directly. Look, Siobhan, for the last time, there’s nothing going on between me and Clare. I don’t know why she called.’
‘You should go and phone her.’
‘To give you another reason to have a go at me?’
‘Maybe you should just go.’
What the hell is going on?
‘Siobhan, I can’t keep up here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done or why you’re acting like this. It makes no sense. I haven’t done anything to—’
‘I’m tired, Tom. I want to go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?’
She shoved her tray further down the bed then lay down and turned her back on him. Tom remained sitting in his chair, stunned. What had he done now? She’d made it clear she wanted him to leave. He didn’t seem to have any choice. Staying was only going to antagonise her further. He took his plate to the kitchen and scraped the remains of his half-eaten meal into the bin, then picked up his coat, close to tears.
‘I’ll come back in the morning, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘I love you, Siobhan.’
Nothing.
27
Rob was back at the house, fast asleep in his room. Tom was relieved to find no sign of Jall. The last thing he needed tonight was to have to listen to that sanctimonious prick droning on.
There was nothing on TV other than the usual mix of reality TV, third-rate dramas and documentaries, and Tom wasn’t in the mood for any of it. He tried watching a film but turned it off before he’d got even half an hour in. He couldn’t even derive any satisfaction from hunting down and killing aliens in video games tonight. Instead he sat in the dark in front of the gas fire and stared into the flames, trying to make sense of what had happened tonight, toying between either going back to try and talk to Siobhan again or drinking himself stupid. He’d just gone to get his first beer when the phone rang. He picked it up quickly, hoping it would be her. It wasn’t. It was Clare. Tom struggled to hide his disappointment. She immediately picked up on his tone and he explained what had happened.
‘So where is she now?’ she asked.
‘At home asleep, I think. She pretty much threw me out.’
‘Doesn’t sound like Siobhan. Time of the month?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s you,’ she said.
‘And how’d you come to that conclusion? What do you know that I don’t?’
‘It’s the reason I was phoning. I wanted to check you were feeling okay.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘I think there might be something going around. Some kind of bug.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Penny’s not right.’
‘Is she ill?’
‘Not as such...’
‘Could it be something to do with her birthday? Her dad, maybe? I’ve heard about kids who don’t outwardly react to something, but then—’
Clare interrupted. ‘It’s nothing like that.’
‘What then?’
‘It’s hard to explain... she was a little off-colour this morning when I took her into school, but I couldn’t afford to miss work so I made her go in thinking she’d pick up once she was there. Since I collected her this afternoon, though, it’s like she’s...’
‘She’s what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I feel stupid even saying this, but it’s like she hates me, Tom.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I swear, I’ve never known her like this before. It’s like I’ve brought someone else’s daughter home by mistake.’
‘Why? What’s she doing?’
‘Last night she was fine. In fact, we had a lovely evening after you’d dropped us back. We sat and watched telly for hours, a proper girly night in.’
‘So maybe she’s just tired after that. Is she—’
‘Please don’t patronise me, Tom. I know when my daughter’s tired. This is different.’
‘Sorry,’ he said quickly, feeling embarrassed. ‘Maybe it does have something to do with yesterday? You’re her mum, Clare. You’re the closest person to her, the one who’s always there for her. So maybe it’s just t
hat she’s angry about something, and you’re the easiest one to take it out on. She’s only young. Christ, I find it hard enough trying to work out how I’m feeling half the time, a kid’s got no chance.’
‘You think she picked up on my vibes yesterday and now she’s paying me back?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe me being there didn’t help. Probably made her realise how different this birthday was to the last. I should have stayed away.’
‘It’s nothing to do with you, you’re just paranoid.’
‘You might be right about that.’
‘No, there’s more to this, Tom, I’m sure there is. Maybe she is coming down with something. You should have seen her, though. She kept hanging back at school like she didn’t want to get into the car. Can you imagine what that felt like? She went straight up to her room when we got in and I’ve hardly seen her since. She came down for her dinner but barely touched it. Christ, she could hardly bring herself to look at me. I tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t say a frigging word. She all but blanked me. She’s been up in her room ever since.’
‘Do you think her dad’s been in touch through the school?’
‘I doubt it. Like I told you, Aiden doesn’t give a shit. If he can’t be bothered to come around and see her on her birthday, he’s hardly going to be trying to get to sneak in and see her at school, is he?’
‘Maybe someone saw us out last night and said something to her?’
‘You’re not listening to me, Tom. This has got nothing to do with you or the three of us being out together yesterday. It’s more than that.’
‘One of the other kids then? Trouble with a teacher?’
‘They’d have told me. Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this is different. I’ve never seen her like this before.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to see what she’s like in the morning, and if she’s the same then I’ll...’
‘Clare?’
For a few seconds all Tom could hear was the static hum of the phone line. He was about to hang-up, thinking he’d lost signal strength, when he heard more. Clare’s breathing. Heavy footsteps. The creak of a floorboard. Then a loud crashing noise which clearly startled Clare as much as it did him.