Only a Mother

by Elisabeth Carpenter

  ‘We’re walking today, girls,’ he shouts from the hallway, ‘so we need to leave five minutes earlier.’

  They both appear at the door from the lounge.

  ‘Alice says she doesn’t like walking,’ says Megan. ‘She says she doesn’t know if her legs will take her all that way without hurting.’

  ‘Has Alice got something wrong with her mouth?’ says Luke. ‘Come on, get your coats on. We’re going to be late. Alice, your legs will be fine – it’s only a ten-minute walk.’

  He hands them their coats, bending down to zip up Alice’s.

  ‘I can do it, Daddy,’ she says.

  ‘No time,’ he says, standing up and opening the door. ‘Come on, come on.’

  ‘Daddy must’ve had too much beer last night,’ says Megan to her sister. ‘That’s what Mummy says when she’s up in the morning and Daddy’s still in bed. I don’t think Mummy drinks beer, though. She likes wine.’

  Luke makes a mental note to advise Helen on the disadvantages of speaking so honestly in front of their children. Megan’s teacher looks at him strangely as it is; what on earth has his daughter been revealing to her?

  He breathes in the fresh air – somehow it seems sweeter in the mornings. It’s bloody freezing, though – none of them have gloves or hats. Tomorrow, he’ll make sure he’s more organised.

  ‘Stick your hoods up, girls. And put your coat sleeves over your fingers,’ he says, moving between them so he can hold hands with them both. ‘We can swap hands as we go.’

  Alice’s teeth are chattering.

  ‘Come on,’ says Luke. ‘If we walk faster, we’ll warm up.’

  He feels like today is a turning point, for him and the story. He needs to check whether Denise has replied to his Facebook message, then prepare a list of questions for her. He can say he’s running a piece on the cold case of Jenna Threlfall – see if she remembers anything from that time. That way, he could slip in a few questions about Erica and Craig. She must know who the father of her best friend’s child is. Ex-best friend. That might come in handy. No loyalties on Denise’s part. Perhaps that would work in Luke’s favour with Erica, too.

  Writing a cold case appeal for Jenna Threlfall isn’t such a bad idea, he thinks.

  At last they’re at the school gates, having swapped hands at least seven times, but Alice is almost in tears because she’s too freezing.

  ‘It’ll be lovely and warm inside,’ says Luke, rubbing her arms. ‘And I’ve made you your favourite sandwiches.’

  ‘Peanut butter?’

  ‘I didn’t know you changed favourites. I made you jam.’

  Her lip wobbles.

  ‘I’ll make you double peanut butter tomorrow. How does that sound?’

  She nods, her little bottom lip sticking out in an effort to stop the tears, and wraps him in a hug.

  ‘Come on, Alice,’ says Megan, taking her sister’s hand. ‘We don’t want to miss the register.’

  ‘Bye, Daddy,’ says Alice, before Megan tugs her gently away.

  ‘See you later, girls,’ he shouts after them. ‘I’ll be picking you up from after-school club today.’

  Megan lifts her arm in a wave without turning around. When did she get so grown up? He’s been asking himself that a lot lately. Is it because he’s been so distracted these past couple of days that he’s not been there to do the little things for them? He didn’t know that Alice doesn’t like jam sandwiches any more. But he does his best; that’s all anyone can do.

  He watches as the teacher beckons them into school. At least they’re not late today.

  He puts his hands in his pockets, feeling warm from holding his daughters’. He stops to cross the road, at the place where the lollipop man helps the children to cross, and feels a bit ridiculous when he’s the only person waiting.

  ‘Cheers, mate,’ he says to the man who always has a smile on his face. What’s his name again? Mr Bailey, that’s it.

  The car that stopped to let him cross is still there, even after Mr Bailey reaches the other side of the road. The man in the driving seat is looking at Luke. Luke can feel his eyes on him.

  The man’s hair is short and Luke recognises those eyes. Is it Craig? Luke doesn’t want to stare but he’s sure it’s the same man he saw at the end of Erica’s street last week.

  The car is an old Renault Clio, dark red. It’s only a few feet away.

  Luke stops.

  What’s Craig doing here? Has he followed Luke? Alan Lucas will have told him that Luke was asking about him. And now they will both know that Luke lied about knowing Craig to get information.

  Shit. He must’ve seen him with his children. Luke feels dizzy, like he’s going to be sick. He rests his legs against the garden wall on his right.

  Car horns sound from behind the Renault.

  Craig shakes his head at Luke.

  Luke sits fully on the wall. His hands are shaking as he gets out his mobile phone, taking a picture of the car as it screeches away.

  Oh God, thinks Luke.

  Now Craig knows where his children go to school. He might even know where they live.

  Luke is breathless by the time he almost collapses through his front door.

  ‘What happened to you?’ asks Helen. She’s standing at the bottom of the stairs in her dressing gown, a cup of tea in her hands. ‘Are the kids OK?’

  ‘Yes, yes. They’re fine. Got to school fine.’ He walks to the kitchen and sits on one of the chairs, breathing hard. Helen follows him. ‘I saw Craig Wright.’

  ‘He’s up early.’

  ‘It’s not funny, Helen. He stopped at the crossing … looked straight at me. That girl’s missing and he was at our daughters’ school.’

  ‘There can’t be anything in it, though. It’s a coincidence, that’s all. What would he want with you? If he went after all the reporters who covered his story, he’d be busy for the rest of his life.’

  ‘But I was at Erica’s house yesterday, and he could know that I lied to his father to get information. I said I knew him.’

  ‘OK, OK, calm down. Well, it’s not as though you’ve done much wrong. I bet this whole town is talking about him. You’re too invested in this case, but the man probably doesn’t even know you’re writing a story about him.’ She pours the cold tea down the sink and refills the kettle. ‘Listen. Phone the police and tell them what you saw. Perhaps you could hang around the house for a bit, just in case. You were up until two last night on that laptop. I’d say that more than makes up for having a few hours off this morning and the sleep will calm you down.’

  She’s putting on a brave face, he can tell. Trying to stay calm because she’s trained to. Or is it because she doesn’t care? Too invested, she said. Isn’t it right that he should put all his efforts into getting the best story he can?

  Luke opens his laptop and brings up the police non-emergency number. After several minutes, they answer, and he gives the details of what he saw.

  ‘Shall I email you the photo of the car?’ he says.

  ‘Just the description of the vehicle and its registration, please, and I’ll make sure it gets to the relevant person.’

  Luke gives the woman his details before hanging up.

  ‘It’s like she wasn’t really interested,’ he says to Helen.

  ‘People report sightings all the time and they turn out to be nothing.’ She sighs as she pours boiling water into a fresh mug. ‘I bet they’ve had hundreds.’

  Luke walks into the living room, going straight to the window. He waits for several minutes. He almost jumps when he hears a bang, but it’s only the couple from next door leaving the house for work. They do everything together, those two.

  ‘No, you’re probably right,’ he says. ‘There’s no one out there.’

  But Luke can’t shake the feeling that he and his family are being watched. He’s seen those cold eyes close up now. Craig is capable of anything.

  29

  Erica

  I need to go outside today. I c
an’t just lie around while my son has gone off God knows where. I haven’t spent so long waiting for him to let him get into trouble again. Perhaps Denise knows where he is – Craig tells Jason everything.

  Sleeping has made me feel so much better this morning. The pain is still there, but it doesn’t seem as bad. The only knocking last night came from the house opposite. About midnight, there was someone banging on his door for about ten minutes – didn’t even glance in my direction when I peeked through the curtains.

  It made a change for there to be goings-on with someone else. Perhaps Jason was true to his word and he’s made sure that no one bothers me at this house. There has been nothing through the letterbox, no bricks through the windows. I can only conclude that people are afraid of my son.

  I knew Craig wouldn’t return last night. I don’t want to think about what he’s up to, but I have to face it. Like Lucy, I’ve met Leanne Livesey. It changes everything. She’s not just a pretty, silent face in a photograph. She’s a living, breathing human with problems of her own, and by the sounds of it she’s had a terrible childhood. She must have suffered, too, in her seventeen short years. Life can be so unfair.

  I’ve tried ringing Denise’s landline, but there’s no answer. I don’t have her mobile telephone number, so I have to go round there. I must be brave.

  I get my coat from the back of the under-stairs cupboard. I haven’t been to Denise’s since the day the police searched my house. She sat me down, made me cups of tea that she had laced with whisky and sugar. They helped, then. I’ve nothing to bolster me now. I should’ve taken to drink years ago. I wouldn’t be going through this – I probably wouldn’t be here at all.

  I grab the packet of co-codamol from the cupboard, taking two out of the blister packet and washing them down with a handful of water. They should keep the pain away for the next couple of hours.

  The sky is clear; I think it’s cold because some of the cars have a dusting of ice, but I can’t feel it. I don’t need my scarf, though the ends of my fingers catch the icy breeze.

  There are no cars outside Denise’s house. Jim must be at work. He must have a good position now. If I were in their situation, I’d have moved from here years ago.

  I knock three times, but there’s no answer.

  Their letterbox is at the bottom of the door and I’ll be damned if I’m kneeling on the ground to shout through.

  I put my ear to the front window and there’s a faint murmur from the television. I tap gently on it – it doesn’t take much to make a lot of noise.

  ‘I know you’re in there. It’s me, Erica. Can you let me in?’

  A figure stands, walks out of the living room. I wait at the front door, the footsteps getting closer. It opens, but it’s not Denise who answers: it’s Jim.

  ‘Erica!’ he says. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m looking for Denise.’

  He leaves the door wide open and walks back into the lounge. I step inside, closing it behind me. They’ve changed the carpet in the hallway. It used to be dark brown, the hardwearing type. Now it’s laminate – all the way through to the kitchen. It’s the same layout inside as mine, but it seems bigger. On the window sill at the bottom of the stairs is a glass vase with real flowers in. They don’t look fresh. Some of the white ones are browning; petals litter the base. Next to it are five, six photos in paper frames of numerous children in their school uniforms.

  I’m waiting for Denise to appear when Jim shouts, ‘Come through!’

  I walk through to their living room. It’s so modern, with its flooring and red rug near the wood-burning stove. The television’s on low, it’s a wonder I heard it. At least there’s nothing wrong with my ears.

  ‘Will Denise be down in a minute?’ I say.

  ‘I doubt it,’ says Jim.

  He’s sitting on their plush grey sofa that looks as though it’s made of velvet. He’s wearing a denim shirt and black jeans. I can see that underneath his slippers, his socks don’t match.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I say.

  I don’t think we’ve ever talked alone. He hardly ever looked me in the eye then, and he seems to be avoiding my gaze now.

  ‘I think she’s having an affair,’ he says. ‘She didn’t come home last night.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have an affair … that’s not like her.’

  ‘How would you know?’ He’s staring at the television. He looks so tired; there are shadows under his eyes. ‘You haven’t seen her for God knows how long. You wouldn’t know her at all, now. She’s not like she was back then.’

  ‘What makes you think she’s having an affair, though? What if she’s in trouble – she might’ve been in an accident.’

  ‘I’ve spent all night phoning the hospitals, even driving round them. Preston, Blackpool – even bloody Blackburn, on the remote chance she was unconscious and wasn’t able to give her name. I’ve rung round her friends and no one has seen her. She’s been acting weird since that new bloke started at work a few weeks ago … he’s moved on to your street, as it happens. You haven’t seen her hanging around there, have you?’

  ‘No. She came by yesterday, but I didn’t see her go into another house.’

  ‘She visited you? Out of the blue like that?’ he snaps. He leans forward, his hands on his knees as though ready to stand. ‘I bet she was covering her tracks.’

  ‘Did she say who it was that’d started at her work?’

  He’s frowning, looking at the floor.

  ‘What?’ He shakes his head. ‘No … I didn’t pay much attention. She’s always yakking about something. Wish I’d listened now, though. Not that it would make any difference to you – you wouldn’t know him even if I gave you his full name, address and date of birth. Not up to mixing much, are you? What do you do there in your house all day? Why the hell stay round here when you get treated like shit by everyone? I’ve never understood that. It’s like you wanted it, like you felt you deserved to be treated like that. If it were my Jason, I’d have been long gone … and I wouldn’t have visited him in prison like you did. Fuck, no. Not if he were capable of those things.’

  Jim used to be such a quiet, brooding man. This is the most I’ve heard him talk since their wedding night, when he’d drunk too much whisky.

  ‘I’ve got friends!’ I say, sharply. ‘You can’t possibly know anything about my life! And you don’t know how you’d react about things until it happens to your son.’

  ‘I can imagine. Look, I’m sorry, Erica. I didn’t want to be shouting at you. I’ve been up most of the night worrying … Maybe she’s not having an affair after all. You say you saw her yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, because she was worried about Jason – he was seen with that missing girl, Leanne Livesey.’

  Jim stands and grabs the remote control from the side of the television and switches it off.

  ‘That bloody lad.’ He puts a hand through his hair. ‘He’s going to be the death of me. He’s been sent to prison three times. Three times! You’d think he’d learn. Can you imagine what that’s been like for me at work? Bloody shameful. I seriously thought of changing my name at one point. People don’t care about talking about it – even when you’re right there and they know you can hear them.’

  ‘I know.’

  He sits down again.

  ‘Shit. Yeah, of course you know.’ He stands again and walks to the shelf in the right alcove. He takes a bottle of whisky from it and pours himself a glass. ‘Want one?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  He downs it in one, refills his glass and replaces the bottle on the shelf.

  ‘I remember when Jason and Craig were lads, I used to take them both fishing at the canal … nearly every Saturday.’ He sits back down. ‘Good memories. I think Jason might have preferred it being just him and me sometimes, but … you know.’ Jim glances at me. ‘I didn’t mind, Craig was a nice lad.’ He swirls the drink in his glass. ‘Denise thought Craig could do with a father figure … She worried about hi
m more than Jason sometimes.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Did you ever tell Craig who his father is?’

  My back stiffens. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You heard me.’

  ‘No, I haven’t. What business is it of yours?’ I pull my coat around myself. ‘Anyway, it wouldn’t do him any good – if anything, it’d make him feel worse.’

  ‘Hasn’t he been curious?’

  ‘I said I didn’t know his name – that it was a one-night thing.’

  ‘Ah. So that means that the opposite is true, eh?’

  I just nod. I owe him nothing – I don’t want to talk about Craig’s father any more.

  ‘You know,’ he says, ‘people thought it was me! As if I’d have had a chance with you.’

  ‘Enough! The subject’s closed.’

  My face flushes. It feels uncomfortable sitting here with Jim talking like this; a dream, unreal.

  He holds one hand up, the one not clinging to his large glass of whisky.

  ‘OK, OK. I didn’t mean any harm by it.’

  I need to leave. I feel cold – the tablets must be starting to work and the fire’s not on in here.

  ‘Get us, eh?’ he says, obviously enjoying the sound of his own voice. ‘We’ve probably said about five words to each other in the past, and now we’re having a proper heart-to-heart. Who’d have thought it?’

  I stand and do up the buttons on my coat.

  ‘Stay a while longer, love,’ he says. ‘We can have a right good catch-up.’ He steps closer to me and holds the top of my arm. ‘I’ve always liked you, Erica. You’ve kept your figure, too. Even though you hide under those middle-aged clothes.’

  ‘You’re drunk, Jim. And you’re trying to get back at Denise. What if something’s happened to her?’

  ‘She’ll be fine … she’s a tough one … can look after herself.’

  He’s slurring his words and I can smell the whisky on his breath.

  ‘But something might be wrong. Can I have her mobile number?’

  He’s still holding my arm. For a few moments I think he’s not going to let go, until he sighs and almost stomps into the hallway.