Splintered Ice

by Stuart G. Yates

  Some of the story, he had heard before, but he let her continue uninterrupted. For the most part, it differed little from the one Matthew had told, until she came to what happened after the two men in her life, her husband and her lover, had come to blows.

  “Matthew's father,” she said, her voice quiet, self-conscious in a way, “he was like someone possessed after I left. He would go to my mum's, pound on the front door, screaming, shouting. I had to go away, so I arranged to go up to the Lake District. We had family there, we still do. They took me in and everything was fine, at the beginning. I tried to put my life together, tried to come to terms with what had happened and what I had to do next. I waited for David to come and visit me. That was the plan, you see. We were to be together. We knew it was going to be difficult. I was a married woman, despite everything that had gone on, and it was a different world then. Very different. It was considered scandalous for a woman to leave her husband, seek a divorce. But to be with another man…” Jed looked up and he could see her pain. She brushed away a tear, shook her head, and continued. “What about Matthew? What was to become of him – it was all so horrible.”

  She paused and looked out of the window, and he could see her reliving how dreadful it all was, how impossible. The memories and the talking brought everything back with such immediacy, as if it had only recently happened. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Jed sat, without speaking, watching her, wishing there was something he could say or do to lighten her load, but he knew there was nothing for him to do, or say. Merely listen.

  Her voice continued, ragged with emotion, “In those days a single mother was looked down on. Almost as if they were a criminal. And for a married woman to have had an affair – my God, that was just too hideous to contemplate. So we had to stay apart, for the sake of Matthew, my family, and what other people would have said. Where I stayed was a close community, small, intimate. Everyone knew everyone else. It was impossible. So we decided to stay apart for a short while, until my divorce came through. We had no idea how long that would take, but we prepared ourselves for the fallout – my name would be dirt, the woman from hell they'd call me as they dragged me through the courts. And my poor child, Matthew…What was to become of him?” She shook her head, more tears coming, her tissue now a sodden mess.

  Jed went out and came back with some more paper handkerchiefs. He pressed them into her hand, holding onto her for a moment. “Mum, you don't have to say anymore.”

  “Yes I do. I need you to understand all of this.”

  Jed nodded, knowing this was a form of catharsis for her, an act of cleansing, ridding herself of the guilt and shame she had stored away for so long. He sat beside her on the sofa, feeling her pain.

  “We tried. David tried. But he was young, very young. I don't think either of us really realized how difficult it was all going to be. He'd come and see me, whenever he could, but my family were beginning to make concerned noises. Not for me – but for them. Always conscious of what others might think, neighbours and the like, they said that I shouldn't see him, at least not until the court case was all out of the way. So, I – I had to tell him. I can still see him now, his face, crumpling. One minute so smooth and bright and young…then I told him it was all over and he became like a little old man, all twisted up, his face…” She pressed a tissue against her nose and tried to steady herself. “We promised we'd keep in touch. Letters, that sort of thing. Then my cousin, Maggie, she got a job working for the Civil Service down in Middlesex. She said she could try and get me a job too. I didn't know what to do for a while, Matthew was so small, the divorce was always being held up because of Frank and his demands. I had to go and have a meeting with our solicitors. His and mine. We spent whole afternoons fighting, backwards and forwards, he wanted this, I wanted that…It was horrible. In the end, the solution seemed so stupidly simple that everyone wondered why we hadn't thought of it before. Frank's mum. She legally adopted Matthew in the end. So I left, went down to Middlesex with Maggie. Got a job. The Civil Service.”

  Jed, stunned, didn't know what to think or say. Matthew had been adopted? He'd never mentioned anything about that …

  “…great it was, at first.” She laughed, catching Jed's blank expression. “You still with me?” He nodded quickly. “I said, we got ourselves a little flat, just the two of us. It was great, at first. Freedom. Memories soon faded and we had a wonderful time, going out, meeting blokes…nothing serious. I'd had quite enough of that. Frank and I were divorced and I ended up with nothing. Not that we had very much to start with, but what we had he got. Apart from Matthew. Frank's mum had Matthew. She was very good, writing to me once a month, letting me know how it was all getting on – Matthew and his new mum…” She stood up suddenly and Jed watched her as she went over to the window and looked out towards the main road. She sniffed loudly, chose another tissue. She turned, continuing. “Then, by sheer chance, I met this bloke. Very handsome, always joking. We got on so well because, you see, he was from here. Wallasey. I couldn't believe it – there I was, working in London, trying to get away from my past, and who should I meet but some bloke from my home town!” She laughed, looking out into the road again. “I'd got a letter, about six or nine months before. David had gone off to Korea. My God – another bloody war! It seemed things were out of my control, so what was the point in trying to resist? I started going out with this new bloke, on a regular basis, put David to the back of my mind, tried to forget. Maggie thought this bloke was 'dreamy'. She would! But, in all honesty, he was. Still is, I suppose.” Her shoulders sagged and she looked at him, her smile full and open. “He was your dad.”

  Jed walked down towards the docks, alone and looked across to the enormous cranes, standing like fairytale giants against the leaden sky. Here, beside the Penny Bridge, was one of the few places he could think, no distractions, no people. The night pressed in and he allowed his mind to wander, to pick through the snippets of a life gone haywire. The murders, Sullivan, Matthew, Jon, Dad's accident. The doctors had said Dad was 'lucky'. How could pushing a cupboard result in such agony, almost cost someone their life? But they said exactly that. Massive internal bleeding

  He kicked at a stone and wandered along the quayside, thinking back to what else his Mum told him when they had gone into the kitchen. As she prepared some food for them both, she spoke, quietly, almost to herself.

  “The years rolled by, and we got married, your Dad and me. We moved back to Wallasey and a year later you came alone. We hardly ever saw Matthew and you grew up believing Matthew was just another distant relative, one who drifted in and out every other weekend or so when we visited your gran.”

  Jed prodded at his food with his fork. “I never really understood why you went to see that hard, unforgiving old lady every fortnight, why you insisted on dragging me along with you.”

  “Frank's mum?”

  “I didn't know who she was. Not then. I do now, of course, now that it's all fallen into place. It was to see Matthew, wasn't it? Not the old lady – Frank's mum – who looked after him. Sometimes, a man was there, accompanied by a tiny sparrow of a woman by the name of Phyllis. I'll always remember her stick thin arms, used to make me feel sick.”

  “The man was Uncle Frank,” said Jed's mum, caught his look and shrugged. “Although why he became known as 'uncle' I can't fully explain. Just seemed the easiest thing to say, I suppose.”

  “You mean he…” Jed shook his head, pulling back the curtain, revealing the years. “He was…that man, he was—”

  She exhaled slowly. “Matthew's father – Frank. We agreed it would be for the best if you didn't know all the details. It didn't do any harm.”

  “No, maybe not. I remember that the atmosphere was always very tense when Frank visited. You'd tighten up, face rigid, eyes cast downwards. Not much was ever said, you'd all sit there, perched on the end of sofas and armchairs, twiddling thumbs, talking about the weather. I loathed it, all of that pretence, forced politeness and false laughter. I
grew to hate Sundays with a passion and swore that, if ever I had children, I would never, ever lock them inside the ritual of Sunday visits to the grandparents.”

  “You should have said something.”

  “Oh, and you would have taken notice?”

  She smiled, “No, I suppose not.” Slowly her smile faded.

  Jed felt the change and pushed his plate away. “This is the hard part coming up, isn't it?”

  “You could say that. I'm not sure if it's something you want to hear.”

  “I do, trust me.”

  Her eyes became moist as he held his gaze. “I don't want you to hate me.”

  “I won't hate you, I just need to understand why.”

  She closed her eyes, preparing herself and Jed waited, remaining patient, knowing how difficult this all was. “The day came when, by sheer chance, David and I met each other once more. It was at Port Sunlight, at a Christmas fair. I'd only gone inside to browse around, and there he was, like he'd never been away. He looked exactly the same and for a moment I thought I'd gone back in time! He saw me and his mouth fell open. When we had both recovered from the initial shock, we went to the little cafeteria for a cup of tea and found that the feelings that we had had for one another were still as strong as ever. Both of us had built other lives, of course. I had Dad and you, but David had a wife too. A daughter and a son. His daughter was very ill, had been from a very early age and her condition had taken its toll, both on him and his relationship with his wife. Things weren't good, and the girl, Susan, was not going to get any better. So, we talked, and we laughed, and the years between us faded away. It was as if we had never been apart. And we both realized, there and then, that we should have toughened it out, stayed together, lived with the sidelong glances, the muttered voices of disapproval. But we chose not to and now there were two lifetimes' worth of emotional baggage to sort out.” She paused, pressing her face into her hands for a moment, breathing hard.

  “Mum,” Jed reached out, touched the back of one of her hands with his fingers. She didn't flinch. “Mum, you don't have to talk anymore. What's done is done.”

  “No,” she said, face still behind her hands. Then, very slowly, she pulled her fingers away, and she took his hand and squeezed it. “The thing is, we both knew, in that chance meeting, that we still wanted one another. So, amongst the cold teacups, we made a pact, that we would be together as soon as our children were old enough to look after themselves. You in particular. We would wait until you were eighteen, then we would run away – elope.”

  “So, is that what you've done? Eloped? I would have called it abandonment.”

  She looked sharply, searching his face for any signs of anger. But Jed merely leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. He met her gaze, stared her down. “You should have done it years ago, when I was younger.”

  “But you wouldn't have coped – your father wouldn't have coped.”

  “And you think he's coping now?” He gave a dismissive laugh. “Jesus, you're so fucking sanctimonious.”

  “Jed!”

  “Have you any idea what this has done to him, have you?” She shook her head, face flushed. “No, I didn't think so. Me, me, fucking me! How could you possibly think that by waiting until I was eighteen it would make any of this okay?”

  “I never said it would be okay, just easier.”

  “Well, it's not. Dad has fallen apart. He's not the same, and neither am I. You should have left years ago.”

  “You could be right, but we made our plan and that was it. But life has a habit of getting in the way of plans. Susan died. It was expected, but it still came as a terrible blow. David suffered, he argued constantly with his wife. Neither of them could share their grief with the other, and the tragedy pulled them apart, not together. Recriminations followed, words that should never have been said and David finally left.” He blew out a long breath. “A few months later, I walked out on you both.”

  Leaning against the side rail of Penny Bridge, he stared out across the gently rippling water of the dock, recalling his mum's words. How she had sought to justify it all, finding some way to ease her conscience. He laughed, the revelations serving only to stir up more confusion in his already over-burdened mind. Life was such a shit at times.

  He didn't notice the policeman until his large form loomed over him. Jed sighed and turned to offer up his explanation; he wasn't contemplating suicide, he was merely thinking. But before he could speak, the uniformed officer was placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Jed Meres? You're wanted for questioning.”

  They sat in the same sweaty room, Sullivan looking as if he hadn't slept for a week. His crumpled suit mirrored his face. Old before his time, laden down with the current case. The biggest murder investigation the Wirral had ever known, so the newspapers said. And it was getting worse. Sullivan's voice was low when he told Jed about Miles and for a long, long time, the words hung like lead in the thick, tobacco-ridden air. The walls, streaked with damp, the colour of nicotine fingers, pressed in on him from all sides.

  “Miles, dead? Why the hell didn't anybody say anything? For Christ's sake, Miles was the only real friend I've ever had.”

  “No doubt your dad would have said something, if he could. It wasn't his fault that he happened to injure himself just as you returned from Scotland.”

  Jed's mouth stretched into a thin, taut line. “What – why do you keep investigating me? If you know all about my visit to Scotland then you must know I couldn't have murdered Miles.”

  “I never said you did, Jed. I don't believe you did.”

  “Then…” Jed shook his head, running his hand over his face, sniffing loudly, battling to keep the tears at bay. Miles. My God, Miles…

  “It's time you knew the truth, Jed. At least, as far as we have been able to piece it all together.”

  “Truth? What truth?”

  Sullivan's eyes were like beads, lifeless, unfeeling. “I think I'll leave it to my colleague to fill you in on everything we know.”

  “Your colleague? Sullivan, I don't—”

  Jed's words died on his lips as the interview room door opened and Sullivan's colleague stepped in. He stood there, a slight, awkward smile on his face. And Jed stopped and stared, trying desperately to make some sense of everything whilst Matthew, his half-brother, pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him.

  30

  Wandering home through Liscard, Jed, in a sort of half-world, lost between Matthew's words and a rapidly escalating feeling he was losing, not only control, but his mind, tried to finding some meaning. The trip to Scotland, the old lady, drugs, and now Matthew, and what he had said. Was any of it true?. “We've been watching developments for quite some time,” he had said. “We didn't know the extent of the operations, but when you made contact with Kepowski, we knew that we were close to cracking this case completely.”

  “Matthew what you're telling me, it doesn't make any sense. What case? What are you talking about?”

  Then had come the words that he still couldn't fathom, words which turned Jed's world upside down and inside out “I'm a police-officer, Jed. Drugs' Squad.”

  He'd heard the words, but he couldn't dare to believe them.

  “No,” he said quietly, “no, you told me about you going down, and I saw you, up at the bowling green. You said—”

  Matthew reached out to touch his arm gently. “I made up the part about me being a thief, Jed. I had to. How else was I to explain my absence? As for the rest, I was undercover, Jed. Even then. I work everywhere, trying to break into drug rings, uncover dealers, all of that. I've been doing it for years.”

  Jed left Manor Road police station in a whirl of mixed emotions. He'd been used, right from the beginning. And all the while, the person who had used him the most, psychologically raped him, was his own brother. Yet, how had they worked it all out? What parts were planned and scripted and which down to sheer luck? How could they have orchestrated his meeting with Jon at the park, the rescue, the
time in hospital? And what about Brian, his mother and Sullivan? Scotland…

  His head buzzed, so loudly he didn't hear the voice, calling him, calling him over and over. And when she tapped him frantically on the shoulder, he whirled around, hands coming up defensively and he froze like that, nothing registering. It was all just another part of his unfettered consciousness. None of it was making sense; he was spiralling out of control.

  “My God, Jed – you look awful.”

  But so did she. Wild, hunted eyes, darting around as if she expected something, or someone, to pounce at any moment.

  “Janet?” He struggled to find his voice, but now that he had, it came out in a rush and he knew he sounded angry, “What are you doing here?”

  Her voice held no reaction at all, “Looking for you” She swiftly took hold of his arm and steered him away down a side street, shooting sideways glances every so often, her pace rapid. He felt like a toddler, propelled away by his mother after doing something naughty.

  She took him through the rear entrance of Woolworths. It was late Saturday afternoon and the shop was closing. As if to underline the fact, they received a scathing stare from one of the shop assistants. Ignoring it, Janet took him over to the far side, checking down the aisles.

  “Have you seen him, have you seen Jon?”

  He shook his head. “I haven't spoken to him since I got back from Scotland.” She closed her eyes, as if the memory of their trip was too painful. “Janet, what happened to you? Where did you go?”

  “It doesn't matter. Look, everything is falling apart. It's Jon, he's…Listen, I want you to take this.” She pressed a screwed up piece of paper into his hand.

  “Your dad, he … Jesus, Janet, I've been thinking through how he was when I phoned him.” Her face remained stoic, not even a flicker. “I wanted to talk to you, but he sounded furious, almost as if he thought you were—”