‘They’ll put you in touch with organisations, won’t they? Somewhere you can feel useful.’
He opens his eyes, but he’s looking at the ceiling.
‘Useful?’ He gives a short laugh then sighs. ‘Yeah. I’ve always wanted to feel useful.’
Is he making fun of me?
The grandmother clock behind him suddenly begins to tick – for the first time in over thirty years. My mother loved that clock, but the sound of it used to make me so anxious. The house was rarely quiet, except for when Mother was in one of her moods. She could go from being cheerful to affronted in a second. Granted, I was a little clumsy as a child – always knocking cups of tea over. She recovered as quickly, though. Always apologetic, but during her silence all I could hear was the ticking of that stupid thing.
‘Did you wind that clock up?’ I say.
He shrugs. ‘No one ever believed me when I said I could never have done those things to Lucy,’ he says quietly, ‘but you did, didn’t you, Mum?’
His eyes are glazed and won’t meet mine. He must’ve taken something; this can’t be just from the drink. I can’t predict his mood from one second to the next.
Tick, tick, tick. I want to smash that thing with a hammer.
‘I never thought you were capable of doing something like that.’
The clock is taunting me.
He brings his head level again and his eyes meet mine.
‘Why won’t you tell me who my father is?’
I unfold my arms and rest my hands on my hips.
‘What?’ I say. ‘Where did that come from?’
He finally lowers his head and meets my gaze.
‘I’ve had a lot of time to think about things,’ he says, tilting his head to the side. He’s almost too calm now. ‘I didn’t want to bring it up during our visits – wanted to keep them nice and light for you… well, most of the time. I was ignorant at the start – unseasoned, you might say. But I’ve always wondered about my father. How could I not? Did you think I’d just forget about him?’
I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears.
‘I… I’ve nothing else to tell you. I don’t know his name.’
‘You’ve said that before, but you’re not like that… you were never one of those women.’
‘What sort of women? There aren’t those women.’
He shrugs again.
‘He gave me the wrong name,’ I say. ‘I tried looking him up in the phone book when I was expecting you. He wasn’t listed.’
‘And he wasn’t local?’
I shake my head. ‘No.’
‘Does Denise know who it is? Did she meet him?’
‘How could you bring her name up in this house – after what she did?’
‘For fuck’s sake, Mum!’ he shouts. He leans towards me and I startle, taking a step back. ‘Stop changing the subject all the fucking time!’
My whole body is shaking.
‘I wasn’t trying to change the subject, I was only—’
‘A lot of people have wronged me,’ he says, leaning back again. ‘I used to believe in karma, but now I know it’s a load of bollocks. Bad people get away with murder, and good people… they’re the ones who suffer.’
He’s staring at the wall behind me, with a look on his face that’s chilling – like he’s wearing the mask of someone I don’t know.
Slowly, his eyes meet mine again.
‘Yes, Denise. Good old Denise, eh?’ he says. ‘I wonder what happened there. Did you say anything to her? About what you did for me?’
‘No, of course I didn’t. And I wouldn’t have done that if I thought you were guilty. She betrayed me, too, Craig. We were friends for over thirty years before she did that – she was like a sister to me. What she did hurt me – and you – so much. She’d known you since you were a baby. I’ll never forgive her.’
‘Jason said she was asking about you.’
‘I don’t want anyone talking about me.’
He takes a deep breath that lasts for nearly ten seconds.
‘Mum, Mum, Mum.’ He’s shaking his head. ‘I asked you about my dad and you’ve turned it around.’ He brings up the bottle and toasts it in the air before taking a sip. ‘You’re clever. I’ll give you that. But I’m not a kid any more!’ He barks the last sentence through gritted teeth.
‘I don’t know his name, Craig!’ I shout. ‘What would it solve now?’
The tears are building behind my eyes, but I don’t want to cry in front of him.
‘Just because it happened to you – that you never knew your father – doesn’t mean everyone is like that. I want a name, that’s all.’
‘It’s something I can’t give you! How many times do I have to repeat myself? What do you want me to do, make up a name? That would be pointless!’
I wipe my face. The tears stream from my eyes despite my efforts.
He sits forward suddenly, making me jump, but he’s only reaching for my hand.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I know you’ve been the one who’s been there for me. We’ll save this conversation for another day.’ He drops my hand and looks around at his grandmother’s belongings. ‘Why do you keep all this crap? You don’t have people round much, do you?’
‘It’s not crap. And I don’t mind not having visitors,’ I say. ‘It’s better for me that way.’
‘Why?’ he says. ‘Why is that? What have you got to hide?’
I wipe my face.
‘Nothing. But if you don’t get close to someone, then they can’t hurt you.’
The sentence hangs in the air. I’m always saying stupid things.
He tilts his head to the side.
‘What if I already know who he is?’
‘What?’ I say, feeling a panic that almost strangles me. ‘How can you know that?’
He wavers from my gaze and shrugs.
‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t know his name. You get yourself to bed. I’m all right here. I need to think about what I’m going to do next. I don’t think this is the life that I wanted.’
‘What do you mean? You have to give yourself a chance – make something of yourself.’
‘But what if I’m broken? I’ve been treated like shit. Where’s the justice in that?’ He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. ‘Nothing’s fair in this world.’
‘You need to get some sleep,’ I say. ‘You’re not thinking straight.’
‘I’m thinking just fine. Goodnight.’
I start to back out of the room. The conversation has finished because he’s shut down; the barrier has built up between us. As I reach the door, in the quiet I notice that the ticking of the clock has stopped. I close the door tightly and walk to the foot of the stairs. I grab the banister post for support.
Why is Craig suddenly asking about his father again? How easily the lies came out of my mouth. I should be ashamed of myself.
But he can never know who his father is. The truth would break him even more.
13
I knew it wouldn’t be hard to find another. It was almost too easy. I had to do the groundwork first, of course. Lay down the trap, so to speak. And I’ve learned a few more things since then. There’s a whole internet’s worth of chemicals, instruments, weapons, if you look hard enough, though I’ve been researching them for a few years anyway. And preferably, you should have a different address to send things to.
I should write a book on it. Wouldn’t that be a first? A person like me getting a book out there to help others. It’d have to be a work of fiction, though. And who’s to say life isn’t just one long storyline? A mate of mine inside – let’s call him Mark – said to me one night, years ago when neither of us could sleep: