‘A little from column A…’
I laugh and cross to the kettle, asking Ellie if she wants a tea. She says there’s wine in the fridge if I fancy it – but my mind is muddy enough. Alcohol is the last thing I want.
Ellie is still working on her jigsaw but it’s not that much further along than it was when I saw it last. She has got the straight pieces along the sides all in place. The box is on the table, leaning against the wall with a photo of a canal. It’s a night scene, lights streaming down from windows above as a narrow boat drifts along serenely. I think it’s probably Venice but I’m not sure and have never been. It’s beautiful and, wherever it is, I wish I could see it for myself.
‘How’s Olivia?’ Ellie asks. ‘She cancelled our accounting session earlier.’
‘Did she? I didn’t know. The police were over to talk to us about Tyler – so it was probably because of that.’
I empty the recently boiled kettle into two mugs and then realise I haven’t answered the question.
‘She’s upset,’ I say. ‘It’s been five days since he was last seen and it’s gone a bit beyond his usual disappearing acts.’
‘What do you think?’
I return to the table and cradle the mug until the heat makes my fingers tingle. ‘I don’t know. I assumed he’d be back by now. I don’t know enough about him to know what might have happened. I told them about his cannabis, so perhaps they think he owed money, something like that…’ I tail off and run a hand through my hair, tugging at a knot that has appeared. ‘If it is drugs, I hope Liv isn’t involved.’
Ellie touches my wrist. ‘I’m sure she’s not.’
‘I feel like an awful mother. I don’t know how it’s come to this.’
When I look up, Ellie is tight-lipped and I realise my mistake. She can’t have children. Her mother died of ovarian cancer and Ellie had hers removed as a precaution. Olivia called her ‘Auntie Ellie’ for years – but that’s as close as Ellie got to a child of her own.
‘Sorry,’ I say.
She blinks and, for a moment, she’s no longer in the room. She breathes and then the moment has gone and she tells me it’s fine. I know it’s not. I’m usually careful with what I say around Ellie but I’m shattered from the past few days.
‘Liv was talking about the mill,’ I say lightly, trying to make it sound like a joke. ‘I didn’t know you were telling her our secrets…?’
Ellie bats it away with a wave of her hand. ‘It sort of… came out. She was saying how you didn’t like Tyler and I told her it wasn’t that straightforward. I said we used to get up to all sorts when we were her age and that you were concerned. I hope you don’t mind. I was trying to help.’
She doesn’t look up, reaching for a piece of the puzzle instead and slotting it into place. I guess there’s nothing wrong with what she told Olivia.
‘It’s like the boy who cried wolf,’ I say. ‘Liv and Tyler break up and there’s a week of devastation, then it’s all fine again. I don’t know if I believe he’s missing in the sense that people go missing. He might be at some hippy weed festival in a field somewhere.’
Ellie winks: ‘Sounds like fun.’
‘Not at our age.’
‘Speak for yourself.’
It’s good to talk about this. A small part of that weight is finally shifting. ‘I’ve got a feeling he’ll waltz back into everyone’s lives in a day or three as if nothing’s wrong.’
I’ve been looking at the puzzle, trying to see if I can help. Rather unhelpfully, all the water pieces look the same – which I guess is the point. I glance up and realise Ellie is staring at me.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Can I say something?’
‘I think we’ve known each other long enough for that.’
She bites her lip. ‘It’s just… you don’t seem massively concerned.’
‘About what?’
‘Tyler.’
As always, she’s seen right through me. I spoke to the police; I’ve tried to say the right thing to Olivia… but it’s forced. None of it is real. I glance off to the fridge, the wall, the window. Not making eye contact.
‘Does that make me a horrible person?’ I ask.
A shrug. ‘You tell me.’
It takes me a few seconds to find the words. ‘It’s not like I wish he was dead or anything. It would just be nice if he sort of… sodded off and left Liv alone.’
‘He’s done the sodding off part.’
I’m not sure if she’s joking: I’m playing with my hair again but catch myself this time. It’s the type of thing that annoys me when other people do it, so I stop. There’s a bump from upstairs – Jason, presumably – and we both stop for a moment.
‘I hope Tyler’s safe,’ I reply. ‘I honestly do… but I kind of wish he was with another girl. Something like that. It’ll turn out he’s got someone else pregnant and she’s busy having the kid. Something big that will make Liv walk away.’
I realise what I’ve said but it’s already too late. More children talk.
Ellie doesn’t seem to mind this time. She’s back to the puzzle. ‘You got work tomorrow?’
It’s a tactful – and timely – change of subject. I tell her I do and then we’re uncharacteristically silent for a minute or two. I slot a piece into the puzzle and then accidentally knock another onto the floor, before retrieving it.
‘Can I tell you something?’ I say. It’s me who’s fumbling this time.
Ellie looks up from the table and we lock eyes for a moment. ‘Of course.’
I take a breath and can’t keep the eye contact. There’s so much I could tell her. So much I want to tell her.
‘I lied to the police.’
The words hang between us like a knife on a rope swinging back and forth. Something dangerous that could go either way. I can’t believe I’ve said it.
‘Not lied,’ I say. ‘I didn’t tell them something. Kept it back. I don’t know if that’s lying.’
‘About what?’
‘They were asking about Tyler, about how we argued over his lack of job and Olivia’s money. They asked where I’d been since Saturday. I told them I was in a hotel on Monday night, it’s just…’
I tail off, wishing I’d said nothing. It’s too late now, of course. Ellie edges forward a minuscule amount, hanging on my words.
The memory wasn’t clear at first. In the aftermath of waking up in that field, everything was blurred and hazy. It’s not soap opera amnesia in that I’ve suddenly remembered everything I’d forgotten, but the pictures have sharpened and smoothed.
‘I was with another man,’ I say.
Nothing happens for a moment. It feels real now I’ve said it out loud. I’ve sort of known it since waking up in that field – but knowing and admitting it to myself are two different things.
When it comes to separation, to Dan’s possible infidelity – which is based on nothing other than the way he looked at Alice – I’ve been able to take a high ground. But after the night in the hotel, there’s a part of me, perhaps a big part, that wonders if I’m the bad person here. Perhaps it’s not a fifty-fifty thing in that Dan and I were never matched. Perhaps he’s a perfectly loving husband and father – and it’s me who’s destroyed everything. That’s who I am and what I do.
‘Wow,’ Ellie says.
‘Maybe not with another man,’ I add quickly. ‘Not like that. I don’t remember everything… I remember bits…’
Ellie takes a second or two to reply, picking her words. ‘Does Dan know?’
‘No.’ I pause and glance towards the hall, wondering if I heard a creak from the stairs. ‘I’m not sure Dan would care.’
‘So what have you done wrong?’
‘It’s not much of an example for Liv, is it? We’re separating and trying to do it amicably. Irreconcilable differences is one thing; adultery is something else entirely.’
Ellie has a gulp of tea and then clanks the mug back onto the table. She walks around me very deliberately and pulls the kitchen
door closed with a quiet click. Perhaps the creak from the stair wasn’t in my imagination.
‘How did it happen?’ she asks.
I don’t want to talk about it – but can hardly back away now.
‘I was at the hotel to meet a client but he didn’t show up. He texted to say he was running late and then that he couldn’t make it at all. I was waiting in the bar. One drink became two and then I got talking to this guy. He bought me another drink and then I insisted on buying him one. One thing led to another and then we went upstairs…’
Ellie is silent for a moment but then she reaches across the table and grips my hand. The veins in her fingers are a vibrant blue but the skin is smooth. An accountant, not a builder.
‘Did the police ask if you were alone in the hotel?’
‘No.’
‘So you didn’t lie. You’re clear with them – and, for Dan, you’re separating. The only reason you’re still living together is because it’s taken time for him to find a flat. If it wasn’t for that, you’d be apart anyway. If he meets someone else – or you do – then that’s fine.’
It sounds logical and reasonable. It is a matter of timing. If Dan had found a flat more quickly, we would be living apart already. We’ve not discussed precisely what the separation means, although there’s an understanding that it’s a prelude to divorce. Neither of us believe we’ll spend a month apart and suddenly fall for each other all over again. So, with that, why would either of us have a problem with the other having a relationship with someone else? Living together now is about timing and the divorce will be paperwork. Emotionally, we’re already separate.
The problem is that this is about more than that. It all is. I woke up in a field in a car drenched with blood. I have no idea if that’s connected to the man at the hotel, or, indeed, what happened after we went up to my room.
I want to tell Ellie this as well – except I can’t. It feels like a secret only for me.
There’s no chance to elaborate anyway because my phone starts ringing. Olivia’s name flashes – which is unusual because she rarely calls. It’s all texts, emojis and acronyms I don’t understand. I have to google them to figure out what it all means.
‘Hi,’ I say.
Olivia’s voice quivers as she replies.
‘I need you,’ she says. ‘I need you now.’
Chapter Thirty
Olivia is pacing the living room when I get home. As I enter, she thrusts her phone into my hand with an imploring, ‘Look!’
She’s showing me the Find Tyler Facebook page but the font is too small for me to make out much.
When I tell her this, she jabs the screen. ‘The picture!’
I squint at a grainy image that looks like one of the dodgy CCTV images police put out all the time. It’s been zoomed to such a degree that most of the definition has gone.
‘It’s Tyler,’ she says.
I twist the phone to view the image diagonally. It is definitely a person. Whoever it is has longish, shaggy hair and is wearing dark clothes. He might have a goatee – but it could be a scarf. I’m not even sure it’s a ‘he’. The goatee might be a shadow.
‘It’s from an hour ago,’ Olivia says. ‘Someone uploaded it onto the Find Tyler page. He’s in Bashington.’
I move the phone further away and then closer, trying to see what Olivia’s seeing.
‘Is this the only photo?’ I ask.
‘One’s enough. It’s him. The poster said they saw him at that statue thing in the town centre.’
I look at the name of the person who uploaded the photo – Sam Jones – but it means nothing to me. Olivia doesn’t know him or her, either. The profile photo is of a tree.
‘Can you drive me?’ Olivia asks. ‘We’ve gotta go now or he’ll be gone.’
‘It’s getting on for eleven.’
‘Exactly – that’s why we’ve got to go now. If he’s sleeping rough, he’ll be bedding down.’
‘What did your father say?’
Olivia is a bundle of frustrated energy. She tugs at her short hair and strides across the room and back again. ‘He has to be up early…’
That means he said no.
I tell her I’ll drive her to Bashington and know deep down exactly why. The photo could be of anyone and I’m not convinced we’ll find Tyler there, so it isn’t for that. Part of it is because I know Liv will worry all night otherwise. She might even try to make her own way there. The biggest reason is that Dan said no. I don’t know if he has been trying to make me doubt myself and I don’t know why he has a stun gun in his locker – but I do know this is me getting one over on him with our daughter.
It’s pathetic and childish. A game of brinksmanship – but that’s what we’ve come to, after all. Perhaps I am the baddie in all of this. For now, I don’t care. I grab my car keys and, moments later, we’re on the road.
The light from Olivia’s phone in the passenger seat is a constant in the corner of my eye as we follow the street lights out of North Melbury until we reach the darkened lanes on the outskirts of town. The stars are out tonight and the moon is so much brighter than when I was waking up in the field. There’s little fear of these roads with Olivia at my side.
‘Any other comments on the picture?’ I ask.
‘No.’
‘Any updates? New photos?’
‘No.’
I want to tell her not to get her hopes up, that the blurry mess could be anyone, but there’s little point.
‘Did you try messaging Sam Jones?’ I ask.
‘I’m not stupid.’
‘I know, Liv. I’m only asking.’
‘Well I did – and they’ve not got back to me.’
‘Do you know a Sam Jones?’
‘No.’
I leave it there, more certain than before that this is a wild goose chase with no goose – and that we’re probably only one more question away from an argument that will undo any of the good work between us from the past couple of days.
It’s a silent drive the rest of the way, though Olivia’s phone screen never dims. Bashington is as unremarkable as North Melbury; both typical British towns that run on gossip, tea, summer fetes, suspicion of the young and, whisper it quietly, anyone who doesn’t look quite British enough. Most of the shops are closed after five o’clock and all day on Sundays. That’s why it’s no surprise that the town centre is empty when we arrive. Everyone’s always complaining about the lack of parking spaces – another telltale sign that people have little to do – but it’s no problem on this occasion. I park next to the obelisk in the square and switch off the engine.
‘Where do you want to start?’ I ask.
Olivia is out of the car and doesn’t reply. By the time I’m out and around her side, she’s already off along a lane that has darkened shops on both sides. She’s ducking to peer into the shadows and criss-crossing to the doorways in case any bodies are shadowed by the murk. I say nothing, pulling my coat tighter and following.
We’re almost at the end of the street when she makes a small squeak and darts into a covered archway. It’s only a moment until I catch up but, when I do, she’s crouching over a man in a sleeping bag who’s using a crammed bin bag for a pillow. Even before he rolls over, it’s obvious that it’s not Tyler. His hair is greyer and he’s a bag of bones. Olivia makes him jump by touching his arm. He growls at her, a startled wolf protecting cubs as she leaps away, apologising and saying she thought he was someone else. He eyes her – and then me – with understandable suspicion as he cradles his pillow filled with what are likely his only possessions. He shouts something along the lines of ‘get out of it’ – but the words are slurred and barely understandable. The sentiment is clear.
This time I don’t allow Olivia to walk ahead, gripping her wrist like she’s a child until she relents and remains by my side. We reach the end of one street and double around to follow the parallel one.
Olivia says nothing but she’s shivering. I offer my coat but she dismiss
es me with a rapid shake of the head.
There are two more homeless people on the next street but we continue with only a squint in their direction. It’s awful but what am I supposed to do? Drive them home to ours for the night?
Olivia’s pace starts to quicken as we arrive back at the car. A man is hurrying past, hands in pockets, likely on the way home from the pub – and she calls him over, showing him the photo on her phone and asking if he’s seen anything. He looks back and shakes his head before carrying on.
We try the main High Street and then a final row of shops near to the river – but there’s no sign of Tyler. It’s close to midnight and Olivia catches me checking my watch as we head back to the car.
‘It could be someone playing a trick,’ I say.
I half expect a fiery response, though it doesn’t come. Instead, Olivia replies with a solemn whisper: ‘I know.’
‘I saw the comment left on the page earlier.’
No reply.
‘How many have you been getting like that?’
Olivia takes my hand and squeezes her fingers into mine. I can’t remember the last time she did this. She rests her head momentarily on my shoulder as we continue to walk slowly.
‘A few,’ she says.
‘C’mon,’ I tell her. ‘Let’s get you home.’
Chapter Thirty-One
Friday
I wait at the top of the stairs and watch Olivia go into her room. I want to follow her in, read her a story and tuck her into bed like the old days but I don’t know that many happy endings nowadays. There’s a shuffling as she gets undressed and then quiet. I don’t know if she’s settled down to sleep – but I hope so. I suspect she’s on her phone, refreshing her Find Tyler page in case there’s an update.
Our room is directly ahead. Dan will be asleep and I doubt he’s stirred much since we left. He’s always been something of a heavy sleeper – all the more reason why it’s so odd he answered my phone call in the early hours of Tuesday.
I’m touching the handle to enter when I change my mind. I’m not sure what I think of him and his secrets and, though there isn’t fear at being in the same house as him, I don’t want to share a bed.
Last Night Page 18