Last Night Page 8
We’ve not seen one another for a week or so and talk for a while about what’s been going on. It’s all surface fluff, however. Even more than usual, it doesn’t sound like Ellie’s been out much since her accident. She got her groceries delivered this week.
As well as the accounting, she’s taught herself website design. Anything that means she can be in the house. She never had any interest in maths or technology when we were at school but she’s been doing these jobs for a while now. She learned much of the accounting from her father. I sometimes wonder what our teenage selves would think of us now. It was all music, ciggies and bunking off back then. Now it’s white-collar jobs and mortgages.
I don’t tell her about waking up in the field, or the blood. The more time passes – and I realise it’s not even a full twenty-four hours yet – the more it feels like something I imagined. I remember it through a blurry haze, not clear and crisp like real life.
‘We might have had a break-in,’ I say, finally remembering why I came here.
Ellie looks up, concerned: ‘A break-in?’
‘Someone put through the window of our back door. It was unlocked but the key was still in the drawer. We don’t know if anyone actually got inside.’
‘Did they take anything?’
‘Possibly fifty quid from the kitchen drawer but, other than that, nothing. I can’t be certain they took the money, either. It might have been Liv. She hadn’t got home from work when I left.’
Ellie scrunches up her face in confusion and then glances at her own back door. ‘What would be the point of all that if they didn’t take anything?’
‘No idea. Perhaps they were distracted by a noise from next door, something like that?’
‘What did the police say?’
‘Not much. Gave me a crime reference number. I think it’s because I said nothing had been taken. I didn’t notice the money then. Dan reckons it was kids with a ball. He says he always locks the back door but I’m pretty sure I didn’t leave it unlocked.’
Ellie raises her eyebrows, illustrating the scepticism that I had. We’ve talked about Dan a lot in the past few years. I wouldn’t say I tell her everything – but I share a lot. It’s that, or drive myself crazy.
‘We might have to get the locks changed,’ I add. ‘I was figuring out who had keys for the house – and all I could come up with was Dan, me, Liv, the spare one in the kitchen, and you.’
Ellie glances across to her fridge. There’s a small whiteboard pinned to the front with a shopping list written in neat capital letters. Next to that is a row of magnetised hooks, with keys hanging from each.
‘I don’t suppose someone could have used your spare key…?’
I’ve already said it before I’ve thought too much about the words. It’s been in my mind since Dan said he’d seen Jason on the street. Perhaps someone simply let themselves into the house and the broken glass is there to confuse us. Nothing was taken but maybe that wasn’t the aim of whoever broke in.
Ellie knows what I mean straight away. Her lips twitch as she takes a second or two to think of her response. I know she’s holding back.
‘You mean Jason,’ she says.
‘That’s not what I mean,’ I reply, hoping the lie isn’t too obvious. Of course I mean him.
‘What do you mean?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know…’
Ellie could force the point, turn this into an argument, but she’s too diplomatic for that. She has more patience than me. ‘Are you sure there isn’t another key?’ she asks. ‘Hidden under a flower pot or something?’
‘Dan’s really funny about that sort of thing. I locked myself out once and he made me wait until he was home from work. He didn’t even leave early. I thought about breaking a window but didn’t...’
Ellie shrugs and then winces from another twinge. It’s not long after that I say I have to go. It’s a little after nine and Olivia is due home from work. I wasn’t joking when I said her father and I needed a word with her, even if she wasn’t there to hear it.
Ellie and I hug softly – she says she’s still a little fragile – and then I head back to the hallway. I’m about to open the front door when I notice the unopened letter sitting on the small table close to the exit. It’s perfectly normal – white, with a plastic window – but it’s the name that grabs my attention.
It’s for Jason Leveson – and, even though I’ve now seen him for myself, the two words somehow feel more powerful. It all feels real.
Jason Leveson: A walking, talking, living, breathing reminder of the worst thing I ever did.
Chapter Twelve
There are no further updates on Tom Leonard. The hotel worker is still missing, with no reported sightings. There are also no other reports of hit-and-runs, or killed animals on those country lanes. The blood on my car remains a mystery.
It’s a few minutes after half past nine when the front door opens. I can’t help but notice that Olivia is a lot quieter when entering the house if she knows her father is home. The door doesn’t bang off the wall and she takes her boots off before padding into the living room in her socks.
‘I’m going upstairs,’ she mumbles, before turning back to the hall.
Dan and I exchange the briefest of glances and it’s he who speaks. ‘We need to talk to you, Liv,’ he says.
She turns and looks between the two of us before dropping her bag onto the floor and lurching across to one of the breakfast bar stools. She removes a phone from her pocket and starts tapping on the screen.
‘Go on then,’ she says, not looking up.
‘We actually need your attention,’ I reply.
Olivia scowls at the pair of us. It must have been warm in the café this evening because almost all of her make-up has evaporated or rubbed away. There are a few streaky smudges towards the back of her cheeks but she looks otherwise free of cosmetics. It’s unlike her – but so is wearing her glasses, and she’s doing that.
‘We’ve been trying to sit down with you for a few evenings now,’ I say.
‘I’m here now.’
‘First of all, someone might have broken into the house earlier.’ I nod towards the boarded-up glass behind her and Olivia turns to take it in. ‘Nothing appears to have been taken,’ I add, speaking quickly, fearing she’ll run off to her room to check. ‘I want to make sure you have your key with you.’
I don’t bring up the £50 for fear she’ll think I’m accusing her of something.
Olivia reaches for her bag and digs out a grubby keyring, holding it up for us to see.
‘If they broke a window, why are you worrying about my key?’ she asks.
‘The back door was unlocked,’ I reply. ‘We don’t know if one of us left it open by accident, or—’
‘I didn’t leave it open!’
‘I wasn’t saying you had. Like I said, we don’t know if someone broke through the window and then unlocked the door somehow, or if it had been left open. Your father thinks it might have been some kids with a football who broke the glass and that the unlocked door is simply a coincidence.’
Olivia looks to Dan and then back to the door. ‘But nothing’s missing…?’ she says.
‘We don’t think so.’
She starts to stand, apparently deciding this was the only thing we wanted, but then she jabs an accusing finger in my direction. ‘You think this was Ty, don’t you?’
‘What? No.’
A lie. Obviously, I’d thought that.
‘Yes you do,’ she storms. ‘You think he copied my key, or something. You—’
Dan cuts her off and, for once, I’m grateful for his input. ‘It’s not that, Liv,’ he says. ‘We’re simply asking if you have your key with you. That’s all.’
Olivia calms at her father’s voice and I can’t pretend it doesn’t annoy me. I’m the dragon and he’s the soothsayer. I breathe fire and he breathes poetry.
‘Oh,’ she says, suddenly unsure of herself. ‘Is that it, then? Can I go?’
There’s a moment in which I think he’s going to do the hard work. That he might say those difficult words. But he doesn’t: he turns to me instead. Olivia follows his gaze until they’re both staring, both expecting. I’m not sure why I thought this might go differently. Dan and I have known each other for too long, after all. This is precisely what I thought would happen.
‘Your father and I are separating,’ I say.
It’s as quick as that, like ripping off a plaster in one go. Bang. Done. It doesn’t even hurt.
It’s like time has stopped. Dan and Olivia both continue to stare at me; him with knowing acceptance, her with wide-eyed shock. Olivia’s mouth bobs open, closed and open again. She turns to her father but he’s still watching me.
‘You’re divorcing?’ Olivia replies slowly, disbelievingly. Her voice cracks midway through the sentence.
‘Not yet,’ I reply. ‘We’re going to separate first and see how things go. We’ve not quite figured everything out yet.’
I’m not sure what reaction I expected. Olivia is eighteen – an adult – but it was always going to be a shock when we told her. She has both hands pressed together into one giant fist, her knuckles white as she squeezes her fingers tight.
I look to Dan, hoping he’ll pick things up from here, that he’ll know what to say, but he’s staring through me uselessly.
‘What does that even mean?’ Olivia’s voice is pained. She cradles her knees up to her chest, somehow keeping her balance on the stool.
‘We’re going to try living apart for a while,’ I say. ‘I’m staying here, your father is—’
‘Why do you get to stay here?’
‘I, um…’ I don’t have a good answer, not an immediate one in any case. I stammer for a moment and then turn to the third person in the room. ‘Do you want to say something, Dan?’
He jolts in his seat, as if I’ve just awoken him. ‘Right, yes…’ he says. ‘We, er, decided it’d be for the best.’
I look to him and my whole body slumps. Is that it? In all the conversations we had over this, over how we’d tell Olivia, this is the best he can do?
‘Why now?’ Olivia demands.
It’s clear Dan’s out of this conversation, not wanting any part of it.
‘We decided it was time,’ I reply. ‘We’ve not been getting on for a while and, rather than continue to make each other miserable, we thought we’d try something else.’
‘If Dad’s moving out, are you making me choose between you?’
‘No!’
Dan and I reply at the same time – but there’s no follow-up from him.
‘What, then?’ she demands, turning between us. ‘Are you kicking me out?’
‘Of course not,’ I say. ‘It’s not that at all. Your father’s going to be renting a small apartment for himself – at least for now. He’s moving out in a few weeks. We’ve not quite figured out the date yet. It depends on a few things. There won’t be room for you there, so we assumed you’d want to continue living here.’
Olivia’s eyes narrow ferociously and there’s a moment where I think she’s going to race upstairs, grab her stuff and tell us to go to hell. There’s fire in her, the same way there was in me. I was very careful to use the words ‘small apartment’, as opposed to ‘bachelor pad’, but I have my suspicions over what Dan’s single life might bring.
‘Oh, so that’s it, is it?’ Olivia spits. ‘You’ve made all the decisions for me. I don’t get a say at all.’
‘We want to try to make this as easy for you as possible. Everything can continue on at the house as it has been. Your father won’t be moving far – only to those new flats down by the river. You’ll be able to see him more or less when you want.’
I look to Dan once more and – finally – he opens his damned mouth.
‘It’s for the best, Liv,’ he says calmly.
I remember the first time he used that soothing voice on me. We knew one another in the way people do when they go to the same school and live in the same town. We’d nod when we passed each other in the street, or say hello if we saw each other in the same bar. Then, one evening, I was standing at the bar in the Red Lion waiting to be served. He asked if I was seeing anyone and, when I said I wasn’t, he said he’d like to take me out. It’s clichéd, unromantic even – but it is what it is. Our first proper date was on my twenty-first birthday. He took me out to a posh restaurant a couple of towns over. I ordered steak and chips, while he went for some Japanese thing that I couldn’t pronounce then and wouldn’t attempt to now. Afterwards, we went for a walk on the canal bank. It was cold and he lent me his jacket. Then, in that exact same voice he’s using now, he asked if I’d like to see him again.
A little over a year later and we were married. Another year after that and Olivia was born.
She might be eighteen, but she looks so young now. Olivia’s dinner-plate eyes make her look like a frightened nine- or ten-year-old, not a fully-grown adult.
‘It’s for the best for you.’ Her voice begins croakily but the final two words are hissed towards the pair of us. She pushes up from the stool and grabs her bag from the floor. The spread of badges rattle into each other as she adjusts it on her back and heads for the stairs.
‘Oh, and F-Y-I, Tyler is still missing,’ she adds with venom. ‘Not that either of you care.’
Stomp-stomp-stomp, plus one slammed bedroom door later and she’s gone. All in all, everything went more or less as I’d expected.
Chapter Thirteen
Wednesday
The house feels lonely the next morning. Dan and I are cordial with each other but there’s little for us to say. We did much of our talking when we decided to separate. I know people will ask which of us first suggested it because the important thing in any break-up is who’s the dumper and who’s the dumpee. For the record, it genuinely was mutual. We’d argued over something stupid – me leaving a pair of shoes on the bedroom floor, if I remember rightly. He shouted, I shouted back and then we sat on the bed. He said something like, ‘This isn’t fun any longer, is it?’ and I agreed. From there, it was easy. It was like the sun had finally come out after a long, long winter. We decided on a few things, set about figuring out what it would mean practically to separate and now we’ve finally told Olivia.
None of that cooperation has stopped our sniping at one another, of course. It’s automatic now: a defence mechanism for me, at least.
I’m eating a bowl of bran flakes on the sofa when the doorbell sounds. Dan’s pottering in the kitchen, sorting himself out some sort of healthy breakfast, but our eyes lock at the sound. It’s 6.45 a.m., far earlier than any sane person would ever call round.
It’s the way that Dan charges around the kitchen counter that lets me know he’d rather I didn’t see who’s at the door. He calls that he’ll get it as he’s moving but I’m much closer. By the time I’m in the hallway, there’s no space for him to push past. I take my time turning the deadbolt and then pull the door open to be met by a smiling blonde in lycra. She’s short, probably not even five foot, and bobbing on the heels of her trainers. I doubt she’s much over twenty-one or twenty-two – if that.
I don’t recognise her at first and it’s only when she sticks out her hand and says, ‘Alice’ that I clock she works at Dan’s gym. Our gym, I suppose – even if I rarely go. She did my induction when I went at the very beginning.
Dan had told me he was having a few personal trainer sessions but it’s only now that everything is slotting together.
Alice starts to jog on the spot as Dan edges around me onto the path. He’s grabbed his gym bag on the way through.
‘We should get going,’ he says, talking to Alice and then looking over her to me. ‘I’ll be going straight to school after this,’ he adds.
Alice is ludicrously smiley. It’s like someone’s painted the grin on her face, because it doesn’t slip. We shake hands and she has the smoothest skin I’ve ever touched – not
that I routinely go around stroking people.
‘We’ll have to get you out one of these days,’ Alice laughs – although I sense the hilarity isn’t at my expense.
‘Not my thing,’ I reply.
‘That’s what everyone says. You’d be surprised how quickly that can change after a few sessions.’
‘I still don’t think it’s for me.’
She pats her stomach. It’s perfectly flat and there’s a weighty thud as if she’s slapping a rock. ‘My brother just got back from holiday. Brought back all sorts – including so much chocolate. I can’t stop eating the stuff. I only do this so I can eat what I want.’
Yeah, I think, it looks like you eat whatever you want – as long as whatever you want is green and tastes of damp paper.
Dan has all his weight on one leg and is edging towards the road, desperate to get Alice away from the house. His lack of subtlety is hilarious – which only makes me want to prolong things.
‘Where did your brother go?’ I ask.
‘Croatia. Have you ever been?’
‘No. I’ve seen a bit of France, Spain and Italy – the usual places. Nothing that exotic.’
‘Me, either. He said it’s very nice.’
Alice continues bobbing on the spot. ‘Sure we can’t tempt you out? If not today, then another time…?’
I put a hand across my front. ‘I can’t do too much. I broke my ribs when I was a teenager and it hurts if I overstretch myself.’
Alice shrugs. ‘Oh well – I suppose I’ll see you again.’
She waves sweetly and then turns to my husband. It’s only a fraction of a second, the merest of glances, but it’s unmistakeable. Dan’s eyes widen slightly, his lips arching up into a glimmer of a smile. It’s gone as soon as it appeared and then he swivels and Alice follows him along the path, through the gate, onto the pavement.