скачать книгу бесплатно
‘Hi Julia. It’s Grace.’
‘Oh. Grace.’ Definite disappointment.
‘Listen, I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to ring you. I’ve just been a bit … Well, you know. How are you doing?’
There’s a very brief pause as Julia processes the fact that it’s not Adam on the phone, or the police, or anyone with any information about what’s happened to him or where he is. Then she takes a deep breath in, and starts to speak, and what she says next disturbs me almost as much as Leon.
‘Oh, love, it’s so kind of you to ring. It’s so terrible, isn’t it, this whole thing? I just can’t … I just can’t think … But listen, Grace, I’ve had an idea. About three this morning, I’m sitting in the kitchen, OK, and I’m trying to work out the answers to the crossword, only the coffee time one, I never get the hang of those cryptic ones, they don’t make sense, do they? And of course the neighbour’s dog is barking – must have been shut outside again. I hate that, drives me totally bananas. On and on it went, bark bark bark, and then the occasional howl. Poor thing. Good job I was awake anyway, otherwise it would’ve woken me up. Anyway, it goes on and on and suddenly it starts to sound different, not like barking any more but more like someone whispering to me, over and over, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. What do you make of that?’
This is the most she’s ever said to me. My ears are thinking, ‘Hang on a minute, we weren’t ready, can you start again?’ I blink. ‘Um, well, I don’t …’
‘It must have been Adam! Mustn’t it? I was thinking, you know, that it was probably definitely him, wasn’t it, trying to contact me, don’t you think? From the other side, or wherever he is, I mean. Because of course he would try to get in touch, wouldn’t he, if he could. He’d definitely try and contact me, I know he would. I’m his mum after all, aren’t I?’
I can’t answer for a few moments. There are so many things about this outburst that have surprised me, I’m not sure which one to react to first. She called me ‘love’. She thinks Adam’s dead. She’s not sleeping. She thought she heard Adam trying to contact her in a dog’s bark. She thinks Adam’s dead.
‘Julia, he’s not even dead.’
There’s a brief pause during which I can hear pages turning, or paper shuffling. Sounds like she’s looking through a newspaper. ‘Oh, my love, no, no, no, I know that. It’s just we have to, you know, consider every alternative, don’t we? I mean, if he did try to contact me, somehow, from wherever he’s been taken, I’d want to try and get back in touch, you know, to try and find out what … or who … you know …’
Ginger appears suddenly in the doorway and gestures at the phone, making ‘Who’s that?’ movements.
I mouth ‘Julia’ at her, and roll my eyes. She grins and makes drinking motions with her hand, then crosses her eyes and sways. I shake my head and look away. Ginger’s theory for Julia’s erratic behaviour is that she’s an alcoholic, or a drug-oholic, or sniffs glue or marker pens or air freshener. I don’t agree. Well, I’m not sure what I think, but I’m pretty sure I don’t think it’s stimulants.
I remember my birthday last year, when we’d all gone out for a meal. Ginger was completely psyched-up about seeing what Julia was likely to get up to, and arrived at the restaurant in a high state of anticipatory tension. She kept looking around for Julia, longing for her to arrive, wondering when she would. She had brought Fletch along, of course, and they were being loud and demonstrably loving with each other, in a mutually abusive kind of way. Adam and Fletch always seemed to get on, in the way that men whose girlfriends are close are forced to. Adam used to smile and nod and clutch Fletch’s shoulder, but I’d sometimes wished he’d join in with their banter a bit more.
‘All right buddy!’ Fletch always said when he and Adam met. ‘Still alive then?’
‘Hello, Fletch. How’s things?’
‘Living the dream, man. Doesn’t get much better, does it, eh?’
‘Damn straight,’ Ginger cut in at this point, punching Fletch’s arm. ‘Just remind yourself every ten minutes how bloody lucky you are, you snivelling wretch.’
‘Gotta love her, the whore,’ Fletch said with an affectionate smile.
We were in the Harvester because it was simple food with large tables, not too intimate. The four parents sat together at one end of the table, while we four youngsters sat at the other end. Adam and I were in the middle, effectively screening his parents from Ginger and Fletch. A sour expression had appeared on Ray’s face the second he’d heard the night before that Fletch was going to be there, and now that he could see him, it was only getting worse. His hands were starting to fist-up, probably without him even realising it. Ray watched Fletch; I watched Ray; Ginger watched Julia. Fletch and Adam, oblivious to all of it, had a conversation about Arsenal.
The reason behind Ray’s hostility was that the first time Julia had met Fletch, something very odd and uncomfortable had happened. It was another occasion, someone’s birthday – probably Adam’s – and he’d brought Ginge and Fletch over to where Julia was standing, to introduce them. Julia had not even acknowledged Ginger. She had kept her gaze firmly locked on Fletch’s face the entire time. And as Adam had said, ‘This is Gracie’s friend, Fletcher’, she had sidled in very close to Fletch and put her hand on his chest.
‘Fletcher,’ she had breathed huskily. Fletch’s head had moved back almost imperceptibly. ‘It’s so very lovely to meet you.’ She had put her nose even closer, practically touching the skin at Fletch’s neck, and had taken a deep breath in through her nose. ‘Mmm, you smell lovely.’ She hadn’t moved then for another four or five seconds, but had carried on staring straight at Fletch’s neck, which was just about at eye level for her, lost in some kind of trance. Or overpowered by his liberal use of Lynx. Ginger and I glanced at each other, wondering what to do, and I remember the panicked look in poor Fletch’s eyes, like a small animal in a snare. He thought he was going to be consumed. Eventually, Ginger pulled on Fletcher’s arm, saying, ‘You can move, you know’, and Julia had wandered hazily away.
‘Oh my God, how gone was she?’ Ginger had stage whispered, then giggled. Adam had tried, unsuccessfully, to eviscerate her with his eyes, before stalking off after Julia.
So a few months later on my birthday, Ginge had been fidgety with interest, waiting to see what was going to happen. ‘Oh God, I hope she gets stoned again,’ she kept repeating, much to Fletch’s annoyance. ‘Oh shut up moaning, Fletcher. Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.’
‘I fucking well didn’t,’ he snarled, and opened his mouth to elaborate on the awfulness of it all. Then closed it abruptly as Adam joined us.
‘What are you all talking about?’ he’d asked, taking his jacket off.
Ginger had grinned. ‘Remember on your birthday?’ she started, but I couldn’t let her continue.
‘Yeah, remember that delicious tiramisu I had?’ I cut in. ‘I was just wondering if they did anything like that here.’
Ginger had frowned at me, but I ignored it. Talking about Adam’s family was completely off the agenda. Particularly his mother. I didn’t need that lesson twice.
‘Um, Julia,’ I start now, not because I have anything at all to add to this awkward rambling, but just to cut her off so I can ring my own parents, ‘do you want me to pop round and see you both? Today? So we can talk about this properly?’
There’s a brief pause, then she’s off again. ‘Oh, yes, yes, it would be wonderful to see you, love. I want to talk to you about my idea, Ray won’t listen, he’s just gone into a trance, with his headphones on, you know, that’s his way of dealing with things. But he’ll definitely want to see you too. Yes, it will help to have you here. When are you coming?’
I close my eyes. I have never been to Julia and Ray’s place without Adam. In fact, I’ve never been in their company without him. I offered to go out of duty, really, and didn’t really expect her to take me up on it. She’s never shown much interest in me before. But at least we’ll have a good, solid conversation starter. ‘I’ll leave as soon as I can,’ I tell her. ‘Probably within an hour.’
After we’ve hung up, I realise I don’t have any means of getting there as my normal ride is currently languishing in Linton, so I sit down on the sofa next to Ginger, who is now glued to SpongeBob SquarePants.
‘Ginge, you’ve got to drive me.’
She turns to me with her thirteen-year-old’s face and says, ‘Why do I? And more to the point, where?’
‘I’ll tell you in the car. Come on, make yourself decent. You can use my toothbrush.’
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up outside the house. I had to drive in the end, as Ginger claimed to be too ill. We get out of the car slowly and carefully – Ginge with a poorly head, me with almost overwhelming reluctance – then stand together on the pavement for a few moments, trying to get up the nerve to go in. At least one of the people inside that house is going to be sympathetic to Adam’s position here, and I’m not sure I can stomach it.
‘Don’t just stand there like buffoons,’ Ray says suddenly from the front lawn, ‘come inside. Julia’s desperate to see you.’
We both start a little, neither of us having spotted the grown man standing right in front of us. We both greet him with a dutiful cheek-peck, and follow him in through the open front door. As we enter, I feel immense gratitude for the fact that Ginger is here with me. I’m not one of those selfless kinds of friends for whom a descent into hell is made more bearable by the knowledge that at least all their friends and loved ones are not there to endure it also. I need as many people around to support me as I can get.
Ray leads us into the living room, and there in front of us is Julia.
I’m shocked at the sight of her and find myself staring to take it all in. She’s absolutely immaculate. She is dressed smartly and conservatively as usual in navy trousers, a pale pink blouse and a navy and white patterned scarf looped loosely round her neck. Her hair is washed and smooth. Her make-up is flawless. Her hands, one on her chest, even have polish on the fingernails. There isn’t one thing out of place. I am absolutely staggered.
‘Hi Julia,’ I hear Ginge saying next to me as she moves forward to kiss Julia’s cheek and give her a brief hug. Oh, yes, good idea. Can’t believe I didn’t do that first.
‘Hi Julia,’ I say then, and move in to repeat Ginger’s actions. ‘How are you doing? You look very well.’
‘Oh I’m not well, Gracie, I’m not at all well. How could I possibly be? I’m a complete wreck.’
She really isn’t. ‘Oh dear …’
‘Well what did you expect? Of course I’m going to be a mess, my only son has disappeared off to who knows where, probably dead in a ditch somewhere, or dying, panting his last breath right now, this very second, wishing his mummy would just come and get him and take him home.’
‘Now what would you two girls like to drink?’ Ray cuts in jovially at this point and we both turn to find him grinning in the doorway. ‘Tea? Or something stronger?’
‘I’ll have one, Raymond,’ Julia replies, and I notice for the first time that the hand not pressed dramatically to her chest is wrapped firmly around a glass. She holds it out to Ray. ‘Water please.’
Ginger glances at me as if to say, ‘Water? Really?’ but I think that’s unfair. Julia’s had a terrible shock and anyway it could well be water. I turn to Ray gratefully. ‘A cuppa would be lovely, thanks Ray.’ I go over to the sofa to sit down, and thankfully both Ginger and Julia follow suit.
‘I’ve not been sleeping, I’ve not been eating, I must look like skin and bone by now,’ Julia announces. ‘I must look like absolute death.’
Ginger and I both make the soothing sounds of denial, while discreetly taking in Julia’s healthy, fresh-faced youthfulness and groomed coiffure.
‘No, no,’ she insists, ‘I look dreadful. I’m grey, I’m sallow, I’m shadowy and I’m thin.’
‘You’re really not—’
‘I am.’
There’s a brief pause while Julia tips her completely empty glass back as far as she can and sucks the air out of it, as if she might absorb some fumes from it that she’s missed before. I’m longing for Ray to come back so that I can at least hold a cup of tea.
‘Did Gracie tell you about my idea?’ Julia bursts out again, addressing Ginger.
‘Um, no, she didn’t.’ Ginger turns slowly to me. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Gracie?’
‘I didn’t … I mean, I haven’t … It wasn’t …’
‘I had a vision, you see,’ Julia goes on, undaunted. ‘Well, no, that’s not right, it wasn’t really a vision. It was more a kind of … auditory vision. If that exists.’
‘An ausion?’
‘Shut up, Ginger.’
‘What was that? What did she say?’
‘Doesn’t matter, Julia. Go on.’
‘Well. Yes, I heard this noise. During the night. I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t been able to sleep properly since … Well, since everything happened with, um …’ She glances up at me and for a horrible moment I’m convinced she’s forgotten her own son’s name. ‘Um …’
‘Adam?’
‘Yes, of course Adam, who do you think I meant? For God’s sake, Grace, I know my own son’s name.’ She tuts loudly. ‘It’s going to take more than five days for me to forget him.’
At this point, an angel of mercy appears in the form of Ray bearing a tray with two mugs and a glass on it. He dispenses the drinks silently, gives me a smile and a wink, then retreats to the other end of the room. There’s an armchair there with a lamp above it, and a low bookcase full of thick, difficult volumes. This is Ray’s refuge; not for him the garage or shed.
Julia takes a large gulp from her glass of ‘water’, closes her eyes briefly and then looks back at us excitedly. ‘So after I’d heard Adam calling to me during the night, I got this idea. I can’t imagine why we haven’t thought of it before, actually. All this time we’ve been wondering what on earth has happened, and the answer is staring us straight in the face.’
‘He’s only been gone five days, Julia,’ I interrupt. She’s acting as though he disappeared months ago and no one’s done a thing to find him.
‘Wait,’ Ginger says quietly to me. ‘He was calling to her?’
‘I’ll tell you later.’
She raises her eyebrows. ‘Total fruit loop.’
‘Look, anyway,’ Julia goes on, her eyes getting wider and wilder, ‘here’s my idea. I’ve read about these people, investigators, they find people who’re missing. Psychics.’ She points vaguely across the room. ‘They’re in the paper, everywhere. We’ll get one of them to maybe sniff his toothbrush or handle one of his biros or whatever it is they do and then they’ll be able to sense him or something and find out what happened to him. Oh Gracie, this is the answer, don’t you think? She’ll be able to see where he went, and then we can find him. It’ll all be over, Grace. Won’t it?’
Ginger says, ‘A psychic? Seriously?’
Ray says, ‘Bloody ridiculous.’
I say, ‘He’s not dead, Julia.’
‘No, I know, but—’
‘What use is a psychic if he’s not dead?’ Ginger again.
‘Julia, a psychic is not the answer, whether he’s dead or alive.’ I glare at Ginger. ‘We just have to let the police do their investigation, the traditional way, with computers and cameras and evidence. No sniffing of toothbrushes or handling stationery need be involved.’
She’s momentarily flummoxed, but then rallies and starts in again. ‘No, no, no, the thing is they don’t need to be dead for these psychic investigators to find them. They can find anyone, no matter how long they’ve been missing, whether they’re alive or dead. It’s just easier if they are dead, that’s all.’
‘I’m starting to agree with that.’
She continues as if she hasn’t heard me. ‘This is just perfect, though, Grace, you do think so, don’t you? I mean, the psychic will be able to tell us whether he’s … you know …’
‘Still alive?’
‘Well. Whether he’s well.’
I sigh. ‘So even assuming that this actually works and that some stranger has some kind of spiritual communion with his underpants or something and tells us that he’s well. How will that help? What possible good can that do?’
There’s a moment’s absolute silence. Then, ‘How can you say that?’
I shrug wearily. ‘Oh it’s simple, Julia. Finding out whether he’s well or otherwise doesn’t make things any easier, does it? We still wouldn’t know where he is or whether he’s coming back.’ I look at her frankly. ‘Or why he left in the first place.’
She gawps at me in apparent horror and, as flaky as she is, she still manages to make me feel like the worst person in the world. A family trait. I open my mouth to say something soothing, something conciliatory, but as I watch, her face morphs slightly into a harder, less pitiful version of itself. Her eyes narrow, her jaw sets, her lips thin. It’s as if she’s just drunk a potion of some kind.
‘You actually think it won’t do any good to find out whether or not he’s well? As if it doesn’t matter in the slightest to you whether he’s alive or dead?’ Her voice is low and quiet now, and much more measured. There’s more than a hint of steel in it. She snorts out a puff of air. ‘Well that just goes to show the absolute difference between a mother and a wife, doesn’t it?’
‘Well, yes, it does, Julia! Of course it’s different for both of us.’
‘Oh, really? Would you like to explain that to me? Because as far as I knew, we both loved him. Didn’t we? Or maybe you think I didn’t love him as much because he was my son, not my husband? Maybe you think he loved you more, because you were his wife? Or maybe you’ve given up on him?’ She pauses a moment, then adds, ‘Can’t say I’m surprised.’
‘Well that’s unnecessary,’ Ginger butts in. I glance at her nervously, then look back at Julia. She’s swivelled her head and is now staring in fury at Ginger.
‘You don’t have a flipping clue,’ she says in a voice so low it reminds me weirdly of The Godfather. I expect her to come over all Sicilian suddenly. ‘You’re not a mother and never should be. Us mothers know stuff about life that ordinary people like you can’t dream of.’
I’m getting chills and have to fight the urge to look over my shoulder defensively. ‘Julia, I’m not in competition with you …’ I say, but I get the sense that what I’m saying is bouncing off her like vodka on wool.
‘Anyway,’ she goes on, turning back to me, ‘as the wife, it was you he left, not me. You obviously failed him in some way. And now thanks to you, we all have to suffer.’ She rolls her eyes, then takes a deep swig from her glass. Apparently the venom in her words has dried her mouth up.
‘Julia,’ I start to say, a bit quietly, if I’m honest. At this point in my life, I should be raising my voice, taking a step forward, maybe pointing a finger, defending myself. Adam’s not here, I don’t have to worry about upsetting him at this moment. But Julia’s words have sliced into me, drilled directly down into my gigantic reservoir of insecurity, and it’s bubbling up. A geyser of tears is threatening to erupt, and I sidestep towards Ginger. She turns her head, sees my face, and moves towards me too, so that our arms are pressed together. Right now, I feel, yet again, the most enormous gratitude for her presence in my life, and in this room.
‘It’s OK, Grace,’ Ginger says between gritted teeth, her eyes locked on Julia’s the whole time. ‘It’s absolutely fine. I’m sure in a moment Julia is going to realise how vile and unpleasant she’s being, and how completely unfair and unjustified that appalling accusation is. Aren’t you, Julia?’
Julia doesn’t move or speak for a couple of seconds. Then she blinks, her face crumples and she staggers backwards, her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh …’
Ginger coolly watches her, still without moving, but I step forward and grab her arm. Finally I feel like I’m some use. ‘Come on, Julia, come and sit down.’
I guide her to the sofa and she sits down heavily, leaning her head back and immediately closing her eyes. ‘I’m so tired,’ she says on a long exhale.
‘I know. You’ve been through a lot.’ I hear Ginger ‘pah’-ing behind me, but I ignore it. ‘Why don’t you try and have a little snooze now?’
