Mindsight (21 page)

Oh no
,
Steve, don’t say that.
I had a crazy impulse to rewind the thing. To hope that this time he’d change his mind, and take himself and my baby away in the safe car with Aunt Rose’s friend Sylvia, who would – this time – deliver them whole and well to the hotel.

So that was why the police had given up trying to make me say I persuaded Steve to stay – the evidence was clear: he made the decision.

The recording rolled onwards to take in the empty marquee and the debris of the day. Aunt Rose, shoeless, wandered from table to table, dropping bits of rubbish into a bin bag and waving the camera away, telling Alan to turn it off now.

But here we were again: Dad, his voice too loud as usual. ‘Bye, Alan. Goodnight, Rose.’ He looked drunk, which again was unusual for him. He could down a whole bottle of Scotch with no apparent effect.

Steve followed, carrying Toby. Then me, chiffon stole trailing on the floor.

At the exit, Steve stumbled and a woman rushed forward to steady him. One of Toby’s legs hung loose, and she tucked it back into Steve’s arms, patting his shoulder as she did so. I recognised her too from the trial. She was a friend of Matt’s mum, drafted in to help with the clearing up. She confirmed we were the last to leave. Said she had noticed nothing odd about my behaviour, although she looked doubtful when asked if I seemed drunk or drugged and just said she wouldn’t know about that.

But now, watching myself, I
did know. I was no longer in the frame, but I was certainly nearby. So why had I made no move to help Steve: to protect my son? The answer was in the sound recording – I had laughed – as Steve nearly dropped my child and another woman rushed to save him – I had laughed. A silly, reckless laugh: the kind of laugh I remembered from prison. The one that told us a visitor had managed to smuggle in some dope.

I sat on the floor, hugging my knees and rocking. My mind filled with those images of Toby, playing around the graves, then red-faced and embarrassed as I made him dance with me. And finally, that thin, vulnerable leg, dangling, helplessly, while I laughed my frenetic, junkie’s laugh.

I told myself I could at least be sure I never intended to hurt Steve and Toby. It was Steve who wanted to wait and by that time I was obviously too out of it to know I shouldn’t be driving.

There were things I needed to look at again, to think about, but still no clue as to when I had taken the stuff, where or who I’d got it from and most of all what had made me want it. And no stir of memory. Nothing I could tell Tom.

I was brought back to myself by a tap on the door. ‘Clare, are you in? It’s Kieran.’ I clutched my knees tighter, hardly daring to breathe until I heard his footsteps on the stairs, then moving about over my head.

Finally I got to my feet, splashed my face with cold water, and took the DVD from the machine, putting it back into its case and telling myself that was enough for today.

When I dialled Alice’s number, Tom answered and my heart gave a small skip. ‘So what happened?’ he said as soon as he heard my voice.

‘I found out Mr Hillier knew Jacob Downes, the biker, and I’ve asked him to contact Jacob for me.’ I knew I must let him help me. ‘So, Tom, have you got any ideas about what I should ask if I do get to speak to him?’

He was breathing fast. ‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. I know it was a quiet road, but we should ask both of them if they’re sure they didn’t pass any other cars.’

Clever boy.
‘Yes, that’s just the kind of thing I mean. Maybe you could write out a list of possible questions for me. We’ve got a whole day together tomorrow so we can talk about it properly then.’

‘What about your memory? Did you remember anything?’

‘I really feel as if something may be stirring, but it’s all very vague and I think I need to let it become a bit clearer before I talk about it. Is that all right with you?’

‘Yeah, that’s OK. Alice says minds are delicate and we have to give you time.’

‘Thanks, Tom. And I’m glad you’ve been speaking to Alice about all this. We mustn’t shut her out.’

‘OK.’

When I talked to Alice she asked about Emily.

‘She’s great. Matt wasn’t there so it was just the two of us.’

‘And you’re OK? Glad you went up there?’

‘Oh, yes.’ I knew she’d notice the bump on my forehead when she came over so I told her about the accident.

‘Oh, Clare, I warned you about that road.’

‘I know, but I was tired and thinking of other things.’

‘Bet I can guess what things they were. So are you any further forward?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Have you remembered something?’

‘Not really, but I’ve seen the wedding DVD and Dad didn’t look happy at all. Did you notice on the day?’

She was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking. ‘I can’t say I did, but he was under terrible strain just then, you know that.’

‘And what about the end of the evening?’

‘Well, it all kind of fizzled out after Emily and Matt left so I can’t remember anything much about it.’

‘What time did they go?’

‘Now you’ve got me. I think they just disappeared. I know they were flying out first thing next morning so I suppose they left fairly early. Do you know, I can’t even remember Emily throwing her bouquet.’

‘It isn’t on the DVD either so it looks like she didn’t do it,’ I said. ‘But that’s odd because I remember talking about it at the hen night, don’t you?’

‘Yes I do, now you mention it. She promised to throw it to me. I suppose she forgot in all the excitement.’

I wanted to talk about my sense of a real memory coming to life and my theories on the headlights, but I needed time to process all that. I told her I’d seen Hillier and I hoped he’d lead me to Jacob Downes, and left it at that.

‘Please be careful,’ she said. ‘I remember that biker from the trial and I didn’t like the look of him at all.’

Chapter Eighteen

When the knock came again, I answered the door.

Kieran was dressed in dark trousers that looked to be part of a business suit, his white shirt was open at the collar, and he’d rolled the sleeves back. He was smiling, head to one side. ‘Am I forgiven?’

‘Sorry?’

‘What an arse you must think I am. There you were, in shock, and first of all I frighten you by letting myself in, and then throw a wobbler when you, quite rightly, tell me to piss off.’

I tried to laugh. ‘I didn’t tell you to piss off, just … well as you say, I’d had a shock. I was rude. You were only trying to help.’

‘OK, let’s call it evens shall we? But only if you take me up on my offer of a meal. I’ve had a bloody awful day in London and I’ve already started cooking, so if you say no that really will be rude.’

He turned and walked towards the stairs, looking back at me with a lopsided smile. ‘And you’re quite safe, Nic’s already up there. So, see you in five minutes.’

After I’d closed the door on him I leaned my head against it. In the living room the DVD waited, heavy with its burden of pain. If I stayed here I knew I would watch it again and again. Hoping this time it would be different.

*

Kieran’s flat smelled of garlic and onions. Nic was sitting on the sofa, a large glass of wine on the table in front of her and Molly asleep in her arms. ‘Are you all right?’ she said, her face crumpled with concern. ‘Kieran told me what happened.’

‘I’m fine. Just my own stupid fault.’

‘That road is terrible. I tell you getting the buggy up and down there you take your life in your hands.’ She stood up, Molly lolling in her arms. ‘Here, have a seat. I was just going to put her down on Kieran’s bed.’

I was grateful he stayed in the kitchen chopping and frying, while she was gone. Billie Holliday was singing something about heartache in a low voice and, instead of sitting, I wandered round the room – an exact replica of mine, but more cluttered and comfortable. A book shelf sagged in one corner and an untidy desk with a wide screen computer and a large printer stood in another.

Most obvious of all were the photographs on the walls. They all featured people: some close ups of individual faces or figures, but also group studies. Most of the pictures were black and white and the faces were interesting rather than attractive. On one wall, there was a small group of old people, and some of what looked like down and outs sitting around fires on waste ground, or standing in shop doorways. Then a larger collection, evidently taken in hospital wards or hospices.

I was looking at them as he came in with cutlery and a bowl of bread. ‘Those are from the book I’m trying to interest a publisher in – no luck so far.’

‘They’re very good.’

‘Thank you, I think so.’ He pointed to a small dark man in a dressing gown sitting on a hospital bed. ‘That’s my dad, just a couple of days before he died. I took that set of pictures in the hospice – wonderful place.’ His finger stroked the frame, then he sighed and turned back to the kitchen.

The food was good and Nic chatted non-stop while she demolished at least a bottle of wine, so it was easy just to sit and smile as I resisted the temptation to have more than a couple of glasses myself. Once or twice Kieran caught my eye and I knew I was blushing, and when we’d finished I collected the dishes, saying I would wash up. It hadn’t been too bad, but all the same I was glad to be alone in the kitchen.

Molly started to grizzle from the bedroom and I heard Nic say, ‘Well that’s it. Better get her to her own bed before she wakes up properly.’ She poked her head into the kitchen, hanging on the door with one leg raised. ‘Bye, Clare, take care.’ Then, laughing, she almost overbalanced, ‘Whoops, did I drink that much?’ Kieran raised his eyebrows at me as he carried Molly through the door.

The sink was still full, there was no way I could leave, but I very much wanted to, not only to avoid being alone with Kieran but because Nicola’s drunken stumble had reminded me of the DVD.

Kieran was back within minutes. ‘I see you’re house-trained,’ he said, taking a tea towel to start drying. I tried to relax and to clear my mind of the image of that other Clare – to drag out some casual remark – but it was impossible and the silence grew heavier as the minutes passed. At last, I was able to drain the sink and dry my hands.

Kieran took my waist and turned me to face him. My skin flared at his touch.
‘
Clare,’ he said, ‘I need to tell you something.’

I met his eyes and his expression stopped my breath for a moment. Then I forced a laugh. ‘What?’

He took my hand. ‘Come and sit down.’ I let him lead me to the sofa and, as I took in what he was saying, I slumped back. ‘I know who you are,’ he said. ‘I didn’t at first. Just thought you looked familiar. But it niggled at me and I couldn’t let it go. Must have remembered your face from the papers … ’

As I stood, he caught my elbow. ‘No, Clare, don’t go. I’m sorry, that was clumsy. I just wanted you to know it doesn’t matter.’

I pulled free and turned away, folding my arms across my chest. ‘If it doesn’t matter, why did you say anything?’

‘Because I want to be honest with you. And I’m hoping you can be honest with me.’

I walked over to the window, gripping the sill until my fingers hurt. The darkening sky was streaked with orange and purple. I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. What a fool I’d been to think I could try to fit in with normal people again. ‘So you know I’m a criminal and an ex-junkie? Then how can you want anything to do with me?’

His voice was soft. ‘Because that’s not you. Maybe if I hadn’t got to know you first I would have … ’

‘Would have what?’

‘Well, made assumptions about the kind of person you might be, I suppose, but I’ve seen what you’re like and … ’

I cut him off. ‘Have you told Nicola?’

‘Of course not. Oh, Clare.’ He was behind me now and I turned to face him. His voice was thick. ‘It’s come out all wrong. I’m not going to tell anyone, and I won’t mention it again if that’s what you want. But I thought maybe you’d be glad I know, and that it doesn’t make any difference to me.’

I knew I should stop this now. Go down to that dreary flat and, tomorrow, find somewhere else to live. Instead, I stared at his white shirt, at the place under his shoulder where I longed to rest my head.

He was still talking. ‘I realise this isn’t the best time for you to start seeing someone, but I like you very much. We don’t need to rush into anything, but … ’

I was suddenly too tired to hold out any longer and, when I leaned into his arms, his shoulder was as comforting as I knew it would be.

Kieran held me, saying nothing. But I could feel his heart beating faster and my own drumming urgently, too. Before it was too late, I pushed myself away and went to sit on the sofa. Kieran held my hand in both of his and I found myself telling him everything. It felt wonderful, talking to someone who had no connection with any of it and who, for some reason I knew, I could trust not to judge me.

‘But I need to think about Tom and only Tom. I can’t let myself get too close to anyone else.’

He laid his warm hand on my knee and I was just able to stop myself leaning into his arms again. ‘I understand that, Clare.’

‘I should go down.’

He came to the door with me and kissed me very gently. ‘It’s not my place to tell you how to deal with your son, but I was a thirteen-year-old boy once and I think you can trust him to understand. Whatever the truth turns out to be.’

My bruises, and the thought of what had happened with Kieran, kept me from sleeping well, but I couldn’t be unhappy because I was going to spend the whole next day with Tom. I got up before seven and made some coffee and toast to eat as I watched the TV news.

I was still aching, so I ran a bath and soaked in it for a long while. The warm water was soothing and I let my mind play with fantasies of my future with Tom. The little house we would live in, how I would let him decorate his own bedroom and have his friends over. But when I started to visualise the garden, big enough for him to kick a ball about, but with space for me to grow some vegetables, I stopped.
Oh Steve!
We always joked that if any of his clients ever saw our own garden they’d be horrified because he never had time to tend it.