She’s drizzling dressing on the salad. ‘No.’
‘Not at all?’
‘David Robinson. There you go - that’s the first time I’ve said his name in months. I did think of changing back to my maiden name when we got divorced, but I couldn’t be bothered getting a new passport and driver’s licence.’
Annie is about to light a candle. ‘Is this too much?’
‘Probably.’
‘OK, no candle.’
She opens the oven door. They’re still not ready.
‘You mentioned a photograph of Gordon Ellis and Novak Brennan.’
‘Yes. Come look.’
I follow her into the bedroom where she pulls out an old photograph album from the shelf in her wardrobe. We sit side by side on her bed, leafing through the pages.
‘That’s me there,’ she says. ‘I’m with my friend Jodie and that’s Heidi and her boyfriend Matt. You see Gordon? He’s with Alison. They went out for about three months and then he started dating Jodie. She’s the blonde. They went out for almost a year. The longest of anyone.’
Jodie’s hair is cut short and she has a long slender neck and big eyes.
‘She looks about twelve,’ I say.
Annie laughs. ‘Jodie was always getting carded when we went out.’
She turns the page. ‘There’s Gordon again.’
He is wearing a trench coat cinched at the waist, which he probably bought from a charity shop because he thought it made him look urbane and cool. Instead he looks like he’s dressed in his father’s clothes.
The photograph was taken at a party. Ellis is grinning at the camera with his arms draped around Jodie and Annie, his outspread fingers suspended above their breasts. There’s nothing wolfish about the pose, but he’s a man who knows what he wants.
‘This is the photo I was talking about,’ she says, pointing to another image taken in the same series. A person hovers at the edge of the frame, trying to avoid the camera - a younger Novak Brennan with longer hair and fewer lines. His face is partially obscured by Annie’s raised arm holding a beer glass. Only one eye is visible and the camera flash has turned it red.
‘Did you know him?’ I ask.
‘I didn’t remember him at all until I saw the picture. I think he shared a house with Gordon. They were always hanging around together.’
‘But if you were friends with Gordon . . .’
‘He dated my girlfriends, remember?’
‘Where were these taken?’
She shrugs. ‘Some party. You’re not supposed to remember them - that’s the whole point of college.’
Annie turns more pages of the album. There are photographs of a holiday in Turkey, Annie in a bikini, lying on the deck of a sailing boat. She looks good.
‘You don’t want to see these old things,’ she says, not closing the page immediately.
We’re sitting close enough for her breast to brush against my forearm.
‘Maybe those quiches are ready,’ I suggest.
Annie cocks her head, having read the signal.
‘Do you have to be somewhere?’
‘I promised I’d take Emma to the park.’
It’s a lie. Annie knows it.
‘Well, at least have something to eat.’
She leaves me in the bedroom. I keep turning the pages of the album. There are more photographs from college. Foundation Day celebrations. Theatre productions. A charity car rally with a customised VW beetle. A black-tie dinner on a bridge.
Gordon Ellis features in several more images, often in the background. One particular shot stands out because two girls are dancing in the foreground. Behind them, to one side, Ellis can be seen kissing a girl on a sofa, twisting her head towards his. Both their mouths are open, an inch apart, and he looks like a bird about to deposit food in a chick’s beak.
The glass coffee table in front of them is littered with drug paraphernalia and traces of white powder in smudged lines.
I study the girl on the sofa. Gordon’s hat obscures most of her face, but she has a small dark mole on her shoulder blade, just below her neck. I have kissed that spot. Felt her pulse quicken beneath my lips.
Annie calls from the kitchen. Taking the photograph with me, I slip it on to the table next to her plate. She glances at it but says nothing. Instead a strange transformation seems to take place. Rising from her chair, she walks around the garden, examining the shrubs and new blooms.
‘It’s not just the parties you forget,’ she says. ‘A lot of things about college are best left alone.’
‘You’re kissing Gordon Ellis.’
‘I’m snogging him, to be exact.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I dated him twice. That’s as far as it went.’
Annie sighs and her eyes grow brighter as though a generator is spinning inside her.
‘What about Novak Brennan - how much more do you know about him?’
‘He had a reputation on campus for dealing.’
‘Dealing?’
‘Hash. Ecstasy. Speed. Cocaine. Novak could get it. He was always very mysterious. People said he’d been to prison, but I don’t know if that’s true.’
Annie takes the photograph and tears it into pieces, letting the scraps fall into the garden. She keeps her face turned away from mine.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘The past is the past.’
The chemistry of our conversation has changed. Annie picks up her wine glass, her hand trembling slightly. The quiches are growing cold.
‘Sienna tried to commit suicide on Friday. She took an overdose. ’
Annie doesn’t react. Dissected by the afternoon sun, the skin on her face looks coarse and grained.
‘Is she going to be all right?’
‘She’s out of danger. Before she went to hospital she told me something that puzzled me.’
‘What was that?’
‘She said you asked her if she was seeing Gordon Ellis outside of school. It was late last year.’
Annie holds the glass to her lips for a beat. Her eyes meet mine over the rim, a private thought buried within them.
‘I heard she was babysitting for him.’
‘You suspected something?’
‘I thought it was inappropriate.’
‘But you didn’t say anything to the school or to Sienna’s parents.’
A sharper edge in her voice. ‘You think I covered it up.’
‘I think you knew. I think you protected Gordon. I want to know why.’
She puts down the wineglass. All remaining warmth has gone.
‘It’s time you left.’
‘Explain it to me, Annie.’
‘Go now or I’ll call the police.’
Taking my coat from the lounge, I walk to the front door. Annie unlocks it for me. I want to say something. I want to warn her about getting too close to Gordon Ellis because everything he touches begins to rot and perish. Suddenly she grasps my forearms through my shirt and plants a kiss on me, hard but not mean, whispering into my mouth.
‘That’s what you’re missing.’
41
The problem with secrets and lies is that you can never tell which is which until you dig them up and sniff. Some things are buried for safekeeping; some are buried to hide the stench; and some are buried because they’re toxic and take a long time to disappear.
Annie Robinson lies as easily as she kisses. I can still taste her. I can see her eyes beneath her fringe, awkward and sad. I see a woman ready to surrender completely - to freefall into love, if only to escape the memories of a bad marriage.
Thirty minutes later I’m almost home. My mobile is chirruping. Ruiz.
‘I’ve found the freak with the tattoos.’
‘Where?’
‘I was watching the minicab office, thinking he was never going to show, thinking I got better things to do, thinking about how I’m retired and I’m too old for this shit . . .’