‘Not a friend no, but it will make you smile.’ I squeeze Fionn’s hand and ruffle his hair. He responds by stopping and throwing his arms around me. Such a tactile boy. So affectionate and well mannered. I think about his father and wonder how he is coping with the demands and messiness of caring for a sick child. He won’t be finding it easy. Paternal instincts don’t come naturally to him. Everything is forced and contrived. Then I think of Yasmin and wonder if in her muddled and bewildered state, she mentions our little conversations. Not that it matters. I’m done with that family, all ties well and truly severed.
‘I like smiling. You make me smile, Alice. When are we going to get an ice cream?’
‘Ah, here we are,’ I say, ignoring his question. ‘Take a look at the name on there and tell me what it says.’ My finger is outstretched towards one of the headstones, next to the ones I was tending the day Peter finally noticed me.
Fionn gets down on his haunches and peers at the inscription, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he mouths the words slowly and precisely, stumbling over them, murmuring the epitaph until he’s sure he has got it right. Then he turns to me, eyes bursting out of his sockets, his mouth gaping open, and lets out a long gasp. ‘Is that you? Are you a ghost?’
‘No, sweetheart. I’m not a ghost. Look, feel my hand. See how warm it is. It’s just that I don’t like my own name so I thought I would use this one instead. What do you think?’
He reads it out loud, his little voice a squeak in the emptiness of the graveyard. ‘Here lies Alice Godwin. Born 1871 Died 1910. What does it mean, Alice? Is she one of your relatives? Is Alice your mummy?’
I melt as he stares up at me, incomprehension at this aberration evident in his little face. ‘No, sweetheart. She isn’t one of my relatives and she definitely isn’t my mummy. I don’t know her or her family at all. I just liked her name, that’s all. I used to visit this church a lot so I could meet somebody and I didn’t want that certain somebody to know my real name so I used this one instead.’
‘Is that allowed? I mean, you’re not breaking the law or anything, are you?’ His chin wobbles as he speaks and my insides turn into to melted butter. Such a sweet boy. My sweet boy.
‘No, honey, I’m not breaking the law. People can be called any name they want.’
‘Like a nickname?’
‘Exactly. Just like a nickname.’ I take his hand again and trace my fingers over his soft, silky skin. Like rose petals on a warm summer’s day. ‘What would your new name be? If you could choose any name at all in the whole wide world, what would it be?’
He places his finger on his chin and makes a slight humming sound as he thinks for a short while. ‘Maybe I could be called Jack, like my dad.’ He flashes me a big smile, his small, pearly-white teeth glistening in the sun.
Ice pierces my happy little bubble, bursting it wide open as he says those words, that name. Misery rains down on me at the thought of Jack Downey.
‘Let’s be a bit more adventurous, shall we?’ I’m trying to sound jovial but my voice is a little too loud, a little sharper than I intended it to be. It’s knowing that Fionn’s father is still on his mind, that’s what is causing me grief. Fionn belongs to me now. He’s going to have to learn to adapt to my ways and get used to not having his other family around. It might take a little while but he’ll get there in the end. We both will.
‘Hmmm.’ More chin tapping as he squeezes closed his eyes and cocks his head to one side. ‘I know! How about Luke Skywalker?’
‘Yes!’ I reply, my spirits lifting slightly as he learns how to play my game. ‘Maybe that’s what we should do. We should start calling you Luke.’
He is nodding now, his smile bright and enthusiastic.
‘Right,’ I say, my voice chirpy and light. ‘Come on then, Luke. Let’s go and get an ice cream. What would you prefer – chocolate sprinkles or raspberry syrup?’
‘Both!’ He is jumping up and down now, his hair bouncing around, his face flushed with excitement. ‘I would like both!’
We get back home in the nick of time. Luke dashes off to the toilet, desperate for a pee after eating an ice cream and drinking two full cans of lemonade.
‘Make sure you wash your hands!’ I shout upstairs after him, remembering how sticky his fingers were after his many glutinous snacks. ‘And give your face a rinse too.’
I lock the front door and turn on the television, searching for kids’ channels that will entertain him. I find one that seems to have an endless stream of cartoons playing, the loud noises and bright, flashing colours irritating me after only a few seconds, and decide it will have to do. Things aren’t going to be perfect for either of us and there will be plenty of hitches along the way but we will have to learn to solve them and be a team together. Alice and Luke. Luke and Alice. A perfect match.
He comes running into the living room, his face clear of the crimson syrup that was coated around his mouth. He holds out his hands and I inspect them, smiling and turning them over to look at the other side. ‘Well done, young man. I have to say, Luke, you’ve done a fine job of cleaning yourself up.’
‘Luke?’ And then he giggles, his small fingers covering his mouth. ‘I’d forgotten about my new nickname!’
‘Ah, but you must never forget.’ I reach over and tickle him, softly pressing at his tummy. ‘You’re mine now, young Luke. All mine!’
He lets out a squeal of delight and falls back onto the sofa with an exhausted sigh, his limbs spread out, gaze turned upwards to the ceiling. He’s relaxed. That’s good. He feels easy in this house – our house. Things are going to be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.
I’m in the kitchen preparing us both a sandwich when I hear him calling out to me. ‘Who’s that over there, watching us?’
My heart jumps into my mouth as I hurry through to where he’s standing. His head is bobbing up and down in an attempt to peek over the top of the living-room windowsill. I half turn away, refusing to look at who it is out there. I don’t want to see them and I don’t want them to see me. It’s a female, that much I do know. She’s standing over the road, half hidden behind a clump of shrubbery. I whip the curtains closed and carry Luke away from where he is standing staring out, fascinated. I find it hard to believe that Jack has already reported Fionn missing. It’s only been a matter of hours. He thinks he’s at school. So who is she? And why is she here?
I take a deep breath, tell myself to stop it, to calm down and start thinking rationally. She may not even be watching my house. She could be lost, waiting for somebody. A jogger catching their breath.
‘Come on young man. Let’s get you a snack, shall we?’ Before I whisk him away, I pinch hold of the fabric of the curtains and as surreptitiously as I can, I peek out, my body rooting itself to the spot when I see her there. A wave of dizziness takes hold before I right myself and half carry, half drag Luke through to the kitchen, fear and anger blinding me.
I sit him at the table, my mind a vortex of dark thoughts. ‘Come on. Eat up. Once you’ve had this, you can watch some TV.’
He eats and I wander back through to the living room, my legs liquid, my head a tangle of wild and insane ideas. What the fuck is Lauren doing here? She was desperate to discover my address and now here she is, waiting outside, watching me. What the hell does she want? There is no way she can know who I am. It’s not possible. I’ve changed everything – my hair, my appearance, my name. So how in God’s name did she find me?
My stomach contracts, tight with anger and disquietude. I peer out again and see her shadow shift as she leaves the street, wandering off out of view.
My phone rings and a million possibilities race around my head about who it could be – Jack Downey, Peter, even the police who know that young Fionn is in my charge. I snatch it up and stare at the screen, my anxiety loosening.
It’s Peter, the lesser of all the evils, and my God, there are many. My thoughts slow down as I listen to his voice, his gently pleading tone. I know what he wants, his need to see me an all-encompassing, cloying emotion. I now have a child to think about, however. He asks if we can get together tonight. I spin around and gaze into the kitchen at little Luke, who is sitting eating his snack, humming away to himself like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I want to refuse, to tell Peter that I have other things planned but the words won’t come. So I go along with whatever he says, a solution already implanting itself deep in my brain. I have no choice. This is just something that I need to do. I have set this whole thing in motion and now I need to see it through to its bitter end.
39PETER
All the driving is starting to get to him. It’s been a busy few weeks and he’s ready for a break. A proper break, not just a couple of days off at the weekend. A holiday somewhere warm. With Alice. The thought of seeing her has kept him going, helping him to deal with awkward, irate customers and giving him the patience to smile and nod while being berated by his management team for countless imagined misdemeanours by the sales team who work under his direction. The guys in his team are a hardworking bunch who do a thankless task trying to bring in orders from an area that they as a company have yet to break into. It’s a big ask but they are slowly getting there, although according to management, too slowly. They want results yesterday and aren’t prepared to wait, talking already about possible redundancies if the team don’t hit their ridiculously impossible targets.
Peter sighs, shuffles about in his seat, checking the time as he finds a more comfortable position to try and alleviate the ache at the base of his spine. Too much driving. Too much work-related stress. He thinks about ringing Alice, if only to hear her voice, the gentle lilt of it, the way it soothes him and helps keep him grounded. Sometimes, when she isn’t able to speak on the phone, it makes him conscious that he comes across as too demanding: constantly leaving voice messages asking her to return his calls. She too, has a job and a life. He often reminds himself of this fact, aware that she is a grown woman who needs her own space. It’s been a few days since they’ve spoken. It feels longer, time taunting him with her absence.
