The door opens, but not so much that Luke can get a look inside the house. It’s a woman of about thirty-five; she’s wearing far too much make-up to be lounging around in a dressing gown.
‘Is Jason in?’ says Luke.
She narrows her eyes and pulls the collar of her dressing gown together, resting her hands on her chest.
‘Who’s asking?’
‘I’m Luke from the Chronicle. Just wanted a quick word.’
‘Who is it?’ shouts a man’s voice from inside.
‘Some journo,’ the woman hollers back.
Another hand grabs the door and opens it fully. Jason. He has dark hair with flecks of grey, and his face is clean-shaven. His shirt is expensive-looking, and he’s teamed it with jeans and loafers.
‘I’ll deal with this, Becks,’ he says. His voice is quiet, well-spoken, even though Luke knows he grew up in this town and is as northern as the rest of them. ‘Liv wants some more toast.’
‘Is Liv your daughter?’
‘Yes. Why are you here?’
‘I’m doing a piece on Jenna Threlfall. You knew her, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, we went to the same school,’ he says, frowning, ‘but we weren’t close. Listen, you’re wasting your time talking to me, I don’t know anything.’
‘Did Craig ever go out with her?’
‘No.’ The man takes a deep breath. ‘You’re chasing the wrong story here. What happened to Jenna had nothing to do with Craig. Don’t you think he’s been through enough? And his poor mother. Do you know what people round here have done to her? They covered her front door with dog shit, they spat at her in the street, she was ostracised. But she stayed here for Craig.’
He goes to close the door. Luke’s tempted to place a foot inside but imagines it might not come out in one piece. His rant about Craig and Erica has left Jason red in the face. The door opens again.
‘You’re not allowed to name Craig in connection with Jenna, you know,’ he says. ‘We had all this years ago. It wasn’t taken to court – so leave him alone.’
‘I just want to know what Jenna was like as a person – who she hung round with.’
‘You’re the reporter – do your fucking job. I’m not doing it for you.’
He slams the door shut.
Luke takes a few steps back, glancing up at the bedroom window. Rebecca is now dressed, her arms folded as she stares at Luke. She gives him the briefest of smiles but he’s unsure whether it’s mocking or genuine. She tilts her head to the side.
He gets back into his car and switches on the engine. Jason seemed clued up about the legalities of naming suspects in connection with crimes. Luke’s sure he knows more about Craig and Jenna than he’s letting on, but he’s covering for his friend. Why would he flip like that – calm one minute and raving the next? He’s definitely hiding something. Luke looks back up to the window, but Rebecca has gone. Jason might not talk to Luke again, but she might.
12
There’s a knock at the door. It’s 10.35 a.m. and I’m still in bed. As usual, I didn’t sleep well. I close my eyes and hope that whoever it is goes away.
Why, now that Craig is back home, does it feel as though these walls are closing in on me? Maybe he brought some of the prison back with him – the feeling of hopelessness, perhaps. I don’t even want to get up.
Jason didn’t come round yesterday. I thought Craig would explode by eight in the evening. It had gotten dark outside, so he’d stopped going to the window. He was upstairs and silent in his bedroom by half past. I hadn’t wanted to bother him; I couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not. I know he couldn’t have been reading. I’m trying to forgive him for that, for not telling me about those books. It’s never good to dwell on such slights. It’s likely he meant nothing by it – he probably hadn’t wanted to upset me when he was in there after I told him I’d chosen each book so carefully. It doesn’t matter in the bigger scheme of things. He’s out and I should be happy enough about that.
I wish I’d appreciated him more when he was younger – treasured him, loved the little moments instead of counting the minutes until bedtime when I could finally get some peace. It’s both a blessing and a curse that I have such a good memory.
Someone’s whistling outside. Knocking again. Louder this time. It sounds like they’re using their foot instead of their hand.
Craig pounds down the stairs and opens the front door.
‘Are you coming out to play?’ says a man’s voice.
‘Jason!’ says Craig. ‘About fucking time!’
I doubt he realises I’m listening.
‘What kind of a welcome do you call that? After everything I’ve done for you.’
‘Come in before anyone sees you,’ says Craig, laughing.
‘You ashamed of me?’
‘Yeah, very funny.’
They go into the living room.
I sit up in bed and swivel my feet to the floor. I quickly dress and walk quietly across the landing.
‘Will you look after this for me?’ says Jason in the living room.
‘What is it?’ says Craig.
‘Just some stuff… Becks has it in her head I’m seeing someone else. If she finds this, she’ll probably kick me out.’
‘Are you seeing someone else?’
Jason laughs. ‘Maybe,’ he says. ‘Anyway, I had a visit from some reporter yesterday… he was asking questions about Jenna.’
‘What did you tell him?’
Craig sounds worried.
‘Don’t worry,’ says Jason, ‘I didn’t say a word. They won’t be able to find anything, will they?’
‘I had nothing to do with Jenna.’
‘But you were seeing her.’
‘I was going out with Lucy.’
‘Don’t worry, mate,’ says Jason. ‘We’ve all got our little secrets.’
I tread loudly down the stairs. Their voices quieten, and Jason comes to the living room door.
‘Morning, Erica,’ he says.
‘You’re up and about early, Jason,’ I say, even though it’s nearly quarter to eleven.
‘You could say that.’
He winks at me. Does he think I’m someone else?
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘None for us thanks, Mum,’ says Craig.
I go into the living room where Craig’s sitting on the settee, a cardboard box on his lap.
‘What’ve you got there?’
‘A few bits Jason got for me.’
‘Is that a computer? A phone?’
‘A laptop, and yeah. No offence, Mum, but neither of the phones you got me sends pictures. I’ll give you the money back for them.’
‘What do you want to be sending pictures for? I thought you weren’t supposed to have anything like that. Your supervising officer said—’
‘Everyone has them these days. It’s not like I’m some criminal mastermind organising human trafficking on the internet.’
‘What a strange thing to say.’
‘I was joking.’
He pockets the mobile telephone and brushes past me as he takes the box upstairs. Jason and I look at each other. He’s dressed smartly again – his suit looks expensive.
‘No more trouble then?’ he asks. ‘Since the dog muck.’
‘Just a firebomb through the door.’
His eyes widen. ‘Really.’
‘Oh, I’m used to them, Jason. I’ve got myself a fire extinguisher.’
‘But what if you were in bed? And they poured petrol in first?’
His face is expressionless. Is he joking with me? It’s not very funny. And it’s a terrible thing to suggest if he’s being serious. I fold my arms.
‘Well then, I’ll be done for, won’t I?’
‘We’ll take care of you,’ he says, lightly touching my shoulder – he’s a good seven inches taller than I am. ‘Though I think we’re off to the pub now.’