I prop the large bar of chocolate up on the kitchen table and leave a note telling him how sorry I am. And I am. Not sorry that I thought it, but sorry that I upset the delicate balance of our relationship by speaking so openly about my suspicions. I head up into my room, padding quietly upstairs and then lie down on my bed, my head crammed with many thoughts. Thoughts about Alice. About who she really is. I need to know more. I need to know everything. We have much to preserve, Dad and I. Much to hide. More than he will ever know.
The knock on the door doesn’t take long to come. I sit up, tension pulling at my chest. I hope he’s in a better frame of mind and not still angry at me. Neither of us are particularly good at dealing with confrontation. It makes me nervous and restless and it I know it really takes it out of Dad, leaving him exhausted and frazzled too. Too many unpleasant memories of past arguments.
He peeks around the doorframe, eyes twinkling. Dad isn’t by nature an angry and judgemental person. He gives me a cuddle, pressing me into his chest and then pushes me back and holds out a chunk of chocolate for me to take.
‘Thanks,’ I say with a smile, relief and euphoria coursing through me.
The chocolate melts on my tongue and swills around my mouth. I smack my lips together and savour the taste, letting it wash away the bitterness, the sour taste of guilt that had settled there.
We go downstairs and turn on the TV, me flopping on the sofa and Dad resting his head back in his favourite chair. He’s asleep within a matter of minutes. I think of him today, driving those distances, sorting out customer’s problems, and then think of how proud I am of him. And how sorry I am for upsetting him. I still have my reservations. Not that I will tell him that. This is something I will keep to myself. For now. It’s all about timing, isn’t it?
I spend the rest of the evening watching a horror movie that makes my skin crawl. I watch through my fingers, a combination of dread and joy running through me, the thrill of feeling scared whilst at the same time knowing I am perfectly safe making my senses soar, and all the while, Dad sleeps and snores, never once twitching or stirring.
I wonder what runs through his head when he’s asleep. Is he tortured by nightmares, images of the past that are determined to spoil the present, or does he sleep soundly at night? I suspect that like me, it is the former, what we did firmly embedded in our minds, making sure we never forget.
29ALICE
I drape the bracelet over my wrist, my face hot, my nerves sizzling and popping as the delicate, silver chain touches my flesh. I’ve earned this. This tiny piece of jewellery is the single most expensive item I have ever bought and it fills me with such elation, I almost cry out loud at the sight of it. I’m sure Jack would want me to use his money wisely. He is a capitalist after all, a man who values wise investments and this bracelet is the wisest thing I have ever purchased. The most expensive single item for sure. My own investment. A piece of jewellery that will never age or lose its appeal or value. I didn’t use all of the money. I’m not a complete idiot, spending everything Downey handed to me in one fell swoop, but at £700, I just couldn’t resist. I think this is the prettiest thing I have ever seen. It does sound like a lot of money for something so small. It is a lot of money but I happen to think I deserve this treat. It’s gift to myself for all I’ve been through. A reward for my suffering and servitude. I’ve earned it.
The sun is still warm as I sit in the back garden. It’s not a particularly large space, just an average-sized garden with a small lawn, all surrounded by a high brick wall, but I like it out here. It’s my sanctuary. My own little piece of heaven. I can see nobody and no one can see me. Alone and yet not lonely. Not now I have my purchase. It is deeply satisfying to reward myself. I’ve read about ‘me time’ and balked at such selfish idiocy and now here I am, partaking in it. Making everything about me.
I reach down to the edge of the grass and push it down with my hand, pressing and kneading until the small lump at the edge of the lawn is even and matches the rest of the grass. I haven’t worked that hard in this garden over the past year but it still deserves to be kept neat and tidy, to be loved and cared for.
A banging comes from somewhere inside the house and I stand up, my hackles rising at being rudely disturbed. The thumping continues, coming again more loudly as I enter the kitchen and head into the hallway, to the source of the noise. I pull open the front door and am pushed aside by Sandra, who brushes past me, stalking into the house before grabbing my arm and pulling me with her.
‘Hello, Sandra, lovely to see you. I take it you have a problem?’ I keep my smile hidden, doing my utmost to not enrage her even more. She stands before me, a tall, willowy woman, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, giving her face the appearance of stretch nylon. I knew she would make an appearance at some point and now here she is, trying to conceal her shabby appearance with a bit of make-up and some expensive-looking clothes.
‘Yes. You’re the fucking problem.’ Her face pushes into mine, her foul breath hot on my skin.
I recoil, glance down and remove her fingers from my upper arm then turn tail into the living room. ‘You either come here and play nice, or you don’t come here at all. Now what can I help you with?’
She scurries behind me, her heels clicking on the lino. ‘Don’t play games. You know fine well what I want. Now where the fuck is he?’
I sit and beckon for her to do the same. She flops down, her anger rapidly evaporating as she places her head in her hands and weeps.
‘Sandra, we’ve already been through this, haven’t we? Tom left here after an argument just over a month ago and I haven’t seen him since.’
She continues to cry. I sit and wait for her to compose herself, a series of sentences running through my head. Sentences I will probably never say out loud. Not to her. Not here.
‘I’ve contacted the police. They’re going to treat him as a missing person case.’ She says, raising her head and looking at me, all the fight gone out of her.
I reach over to the sideboard and pluck a handful of tissues from the box then pass them over. She takes them and smiles, rubbing at her eyes and wiping her face. ‘I know that people argue and fall out at times but he’s still my brother. I have to look out for him, don’t I?’
‘Of course you do,’ I say, trying to sound sympathetic, my tone soft and reassuring. ‘You know, he did say as he was leaving that he was going back up to Scotland, back to stay in his little lodge.’
‘The police are going to search the place, although the last time I went, it was full of his fishing gear and not much else.’ She blows her nose and shakes her head at me. ‘I wish he’d contacted me, let me know he was upset. I would have flown home sooner. It was only when I tried to ring him and it kept going to voicemail that I knew something was wrong.’
‘Look Sandra,’ I say, my voice low and croaky, ‘I did try to persuade him to calm down but he’d had a drink and he called me some pretty awful names.’
She stares at me, expressionless.
‘You may think you knew your brother, but there was a side to him that could be very difficult. You’ve been living in Switzerland for the past four years. People change. He changed.’
‘Why are you referring to him in the past tense?’ The sharp edge to her voice has returned, her eyes full of fire again.
‘Oh please! I’m not sure what you’re alluding to here. You need to get a grip. I’m referring to him in that way because he is no longer a part of my life. Don’t start getting all paranoid, throwing around thinly disguised accusations.’
‘Right. Okay. I’m just really concerned, that’s all. With no parents alive to look out for him, I’m all he’s got.’ She nibbles at her nails, her eyes glistening with tears.
‘He’s always been a drifter. You know that. I knew it when I met him. Didn’t he once disappear and live off grid for a year or so?’
Sandra bristles, her brow furrowing into a tight little line. ‘That was different. He told people he was going to do it. He made preparations. He didn’t just up and leave and disappear into the great blue yonder.’
I shrug and bite at my lip. ‘I’m really sorry, but when he left here after threatening me, he was no longer a part of my life. I’m not sure what it is you want from me?’
‘Threatening you?’ She is sitting up straighter now, her spine rigid.
‘He called me a horrible bitch and threatened to hit me.’ I feign sadness, lowering my gaze and sighing as I fiddle with my sleeves, tugging at a loose piece of thread. Tom didn’t threaten to hit me at all. We did argue; that much is true. And he did call me a horrible bitch but I suppose he had every reason to after finding out about me. My capabilities, my past deeds. I like to think of them as strengths. A way of smoothing out the kinks of my disturbed life.
‘Why? Tom was always so kind when he was younger. Why would he suddenly turn into this monster that you’re describing?’ She begins to cry again and I now want her to leave. Her blubbing is grating on me. I planned on having a peaceful evening with a glass of wine. Not sitting here opposite a grown woman who can’t hold it together.
We sit for the next few minutes, Sandra oscillating between being positive that her brother has taken himself off into the wilderness for a break to thinking that I have murdered him and buried him under the patio.
‘Keep me updated on what the police have to say.’ I stand up and briskly rub my hands together.
She looks me up and down before getting up and heading out into the hallway. ‘I’ll definitely keep you informed.’
‘Please do.’
